Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1)

by J. A. Menzies

“Nothing to say she hadn’t.”

  “Okay. Anything else?

  “Only that if my analysis is correct, you’re looking for someone quite strong. Someone who could have held her while forcing her arm back to stab herself.”

  “Not a woman?”

  “Could be a woman, but it would have to be a strong one. Tennis player, swimmer, someone who worked out a lot.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “I’ll let you know if anything else turns up.”

  Manziuk hung up and turned to George Brodie. “Sorry, there’s one thing more I need to check. Do you know if Ford’s still here?”

  “There are still a number of policemen out back.

  “Let’s go see how they’re coming.”

  Ford was still at the body site. He smiled when he saw Manziuk. “Good timing. Just finished up here.”

  “Find anything?”

  “Just one thing which might help. A footprint that isn’t hers or one of the kids. Over here.” He pointed to a spot in the ground. “Looks like a man’s size ten.”

  Manziuk nodded, then told Ford about Munsen’s suspicions.

  “Interesting,” Ford raised his eyebrows. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “What about the clothes?”

  “Kelly’s going to have a look at them tonight. Lots of blood. Leaves, grass, some dirt. It’ll take a while to go over them. If the girl was holding the knife, she could have pricked him, too.”

  “We don’t know what her other hand was doing, either. She could have scratched his face. Okay, I’ve two more interviews and then I’ll see what we have.”

  “Lots of fun,” Ford said in parting.

  Back in the study, Manziuk sat across from George Brodie and waited until Ryan opened her notebook. She’d taken it with her when she went to escort Peter Martin. That pleased him. It wasn’t something to be left lying around.

  George took charge of the conversation. “What do you want to know? Where I was when she was killed? I understand it happened in the middle of the night. Ellen will already have told you we went to bed before twelve. I was up before seven. The rest of the time I was asleep and I don’t know anything that could help you.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe this is really happening.” He sighed. “I’m not a young man, Inspector. At the beginning of this weekend, I was looking forward to seeing my son come into the firm and thinking that in a few years I’d be able to retire and let him take over. It was a good feeling. I can accept the idea of his taking over, my taking Ellen on a cruise, enjoying what time we have left. But right now I feel a hundred years old and completely helpless.”

  “Murder of an innocent young person makes us all feel helpless, Mr. Brodie.”

  “I suppose so. But in my own home!”

  “It’s been violated. You’ve been violated. And you have to sit back and let me do my job. And tell me anything you know that could help me.”

  George shook his head. “I wish I knew one thing that could help you. But I’ve seen and heard nothing that makes me think I know who did it.”

  “Do you suspect anyone?”

  “No.” He dragged the word out.

  “That didn’t sound definite.”

  “Oh, it’s likely just because I don’t like him, but it seems to me Bart has the temperament for it. I don’t know that any of these other people could have.”

  “Mr. Brodie, has anyone been blackmailing you? Jillian Martin, for instance?” Manziuk threw it out as a cast. He didn’t expect George Brodie’s face to turn ashen. “Mr. Brodie?”

  “Do you know what you’re asking me?” he asked in a rasping voice.

  “I do,” Manziuk replied.

  “But I don’t understand.”

  “Mrs. Martin seems to have found weak spots in several people. She didn’t find one in you?”

  “Are you telling me that she was blackmailing people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that was what she was trying to do!”

  “She had approached you?”

  George stood up and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “She called in at my office one day and said she had a problem and couldn’t ask Peter for help. Apparently she’d overspent her allowance. She asked me for money. When I said no, she suggested that I wouldn’t enjoy having my background written up in the gutter press. Sensationalized, she meant. I’m not ashamed of my past, but that doesn’t mean I want it smeared with the kind of headlines they’d use. They twist things so much you can’t recognize them.”

  “Did you give her the money?”

  “Certainly not. I simply reminded her that her husband’s job depended on my firm’s having a good reputation. If she were to do what she’d suggested, we’d lose clients, and all of the members of the firm would suffer. That set her in her place.”

  “She left?”

  “Yes. But not happily.”

  “Did you talk to Peter about it?”

  “I would have if she’d tried anything else.” George shifted in his chair. “Look, I brought Peter into the firm because I wanted him, and I haven’t regretted my choice. Peter’s a first-class lawyer. His personal life is nothing to do with me. Having said that, I should add that I do regret his choice of wives. At least the two I’ve known.”

  “Hildy Reimer was also one of his wives.”

  “She seems much more suitable, although her decision to crash our house party was deplorable.”

  “So Jillian said nothing else to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Had you heard of anything else, or anyone else she might have approached?”

  “I had no idea that this wasn’t an isolated incident. You mean she was actually blackmailing other people who are here this weekend?” His voice rose in astonishment. “Douglass?”

  Manziuk stood up. “I don’t think we’ll get into that, Mr. Brodie. Thank you for your help. I just need to talk to your son and then I’ll be out of your hair. Could you ask him to come here?”

  “Certainly. And if I think of anything that can help, I’ll give you a call. I want this solved as quickly as possible.”

  “Bad publicity,” Ryan said as the door shut behind George Brodie.

  “What?”

  “He seems to be more worried about the bad publicity for the law firm than about two women’s deaths.”

  “I believe him when he says he feels very old right now. He seems tired and confused. Could simply be shock. Women cry; most men try to be stoic. But that doesn’t mean men don’t feel it.”

  “Do you think he lied about not giving Jillian any money?”

  “Could be. All I know is we’ve got more people with a motive for killing Jillian Martin than I’d have dreamed possible.”

  There was a knock at the door and Manziuk opened it to Kendall Brodie. “Nick and I were hoping to leave soon,” he said. “Do you need to see me?”

  “Just a couple of questions, Mr. Brodie.”

  “Good. I promised Lorry we’d drop her off on our way home. That okay with you?”

  “Fine. Can you tell me where you were after midnight last night?”

  “Sound asleep. Well, it might have been twelve-thirty when I got to sleep. We came upstairs about midnight.”

  “You didn’t leave the room?”

  “No. I was tired. I clicked out like a lightbulb.”

  “Can you testify that Nick was also in the room?”

  “Well, we came up together, and we both went to bed. I assume he went to sleep. But I suppose I can’t swear that he was. I mean, I was really out. But I’m sure I’d have awakened if he opened the door. I’d have heard that.”

  “Thanks. If you think of anything else that might help us, here’s my card.” Manziuk held it out and Kendall absently put it into his shirt pocket.

  As Kendall started towards the door, Manziuk casually asked, “Oh, by the way, Jillian Martin wasn’t by any chance blackmailing you, was she?”

  Kendall stopped and stared. “What?”

&n
bsp; Manziuk repeated the question.

  “Are you crazy? First of all, I didn’t even know her before this weekend, and second, what do you mean, blackmail? Are you telling me Jillian was blackmailing somebody?” His voice went from puzzled to angry. “Or do you think I have something in my life I could be blackmailed over? Just exactly what are you trying to imply?”

  “Oh, it’s just a little thought of mine. Nothing to worry about.”

  “I don’t think you should go around slandering people, even if you are a cop! Does Peter know what kind of things you’re saying?”

  “Sorry. That’s classified,” Manziuk said with an enigmatic smile. “You’re going back to your apartment?”

  “That’s right. But I still—”

  “I may drop in some time.”

  “That would be an honor,” Kendall said. His voice was only slightly ironic. He stood. “I suggest you watch what you say about people in future.” After a quick wave to Ryan, he left the room.

  “Well, that’s the lot.” Manziuk’s voice was tired.

  Ryan said, “Looks like Nick Donovan, doesn’t it? Kendall let out that Nick could have left the room without his knowledge, and then he tried to cover his tracks, but it didn’t work. What if Jillian was never interested in Nick romantically? Since she knew him four years ago, she may well have had something on him. Maybe she was trying to blackmail him, too.”

  Manziuk looked at her in surprise. “Good thinking,” he said. “All right, I need the search list from yesterday. Find out what size shoes Nick wears and whether he had a black shirt and pants.”

  “Black?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “We don’t have the completed list yet. Ford wasn’t finished when he was called here this morning.”

  “Okay, we’ll just have to wait until we get all the facts. Mean-while, put a tail on Nick. He’ll be driving back to the apartment with Kendall. Make sure there are enough bodies to cover him.”

  A few minutes earlier, Peter had found Shauna sitting in the upstairs alcove drawing on a small pad. “I’m ready to go. Are you packed?”

  “I’m not going.”

  “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

  “I won’t go back and no one can make me.”

  He took a few steps in a half circle, then stopped. “Work with me on this, Shauna.”

  “What?”

  “You came here with me and you’re going back with me. Your parents and sisters are at the apartment right now. We have to go meet them.”

  She continued making marks on the paper. “I don’t want to.”

  Exasperated, he grabbed her sketch pad. “Look at me!”

  “Don’t!”

  “I’m trying to talk to you!”

  “I don’t want to! You can’t make me!” Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

  “Shauna, I don’t understand. I know you’re upset because of what’s happened, but what do you want me to do?”

  She stood up and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Don’t make me go back there. Please, don’t make me!”

  “To the apartment?” His voice was clearly bewildered.

  “No! Back home!”

  “Home?” He shook his head, completely lost. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

  She was still crying, but quietly. “I want to go to art school this fall. It may be my only chance.”

  “Art school?”

  She nodded mutely.

  It dawned on Peter that the object he was holding was a sketch pad. He held it up and looked at the page on which she had been drawing. His eyebrows raised. “You drew this?”

  She nodded, her eyes desperately watching him, teeth biting her bottom lip.

  He gave her an intent look; then glanced back at the drawing. “This is good,” he said. “Really good.”

  “I’ve wanted to go for as long as I can remember. They’ll never let me. If I go back, I’ll never escape.”

  Peter leafed through the sketch pad. Page after page was covered with exquisite pencil drawings of dwarves, elves, fairies, dryads, centaurs, trees that breathed life, sea people, and a myriad of other imaginary yet appealing creatures. All drawn by Shauna. The realization acted like a sudden punch to his solar plexus. What a fool he was! Seeing only a gawky woman in horn-rimmed glasses and completely missing the delightfully gifted individual inside.

  “Don’t worry, Shauna,” he said to her, his voice husky with emotion. “You’ll go to art school. I’ll see to it myself. And you won’t have to go back home. I won’t let them take you. You can stay at my apartment until we can make arrangements. We’ll get you into the best art school there is. I promise.”

  It was her turn to look intently into his eyes. “You’re not just saying that so I’ll go back with you?”

  “You have my word. But first, you’ll have to help me. All of Jillian’s things—someone has to pack them up. And the funeral. There’ll have to be one as soon as the police release the body. Will you help me get through that? Then, I promise you, as soon as your family goes back home, we’ll start work on that art school.”

  She nodded and ran to her room to throw her clothes into the shopping bag Lorry had found for her.

  Lorry Preston was in the bedroom putting the last of her clothes into her suitcase.

  “I guess I’m going,” Shauna announced.

  “With Peter?”

  “Yes. He said he’ll help me go to art school.”

  “Shauna, that’s wonderful!”

  “He says I never have to go back home again.”

  “That’s great.”

  “But I will have to go there some time. I have drawings hidden away. I’ll have to go and get them. But not alone. I was wondering if you’d go with me? In a few weeks, maybe?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “I have your number. You’re sure you don’t mind if I call you?”

  “I want you to call.”

  Impulsively, Shauna walked forward and gave Lorry a quick hug. “I sure wish I’d had a sister like you,” she said.

  Then she threw the rest of her clothes and toiletries into the shopping bag and ran out.

  Lorry finished packing and sat down on the edge of her bed. Every bone in her body felt as though it was made of iron. She realized that the shock of the murders topped by the strain of trying to support Shauna had exhausted her more than she’d realized.

  She felt guilty, but nevertheless she couldn’t wait to get out of this house. It would be difficult to ever come back.

  There was a soft tap on her door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Nick. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  She hesitated, but then got up and opened the door. “Is Kendall nearly ready?”

  “He’ll be a couple of minutes. Look, I just wanted a moment to talk to you alone. This has been a heck of a weekend.”

  She stepped aside and he walked into the room and stood looking at her. At last, she said, “You wanted to talk?”

  “I’m sorry. My usually ready tongue is on holiday, I guess. Maybe being the chief suspect in a murder investigation has done something to me.”

  “Are you?”

  “Looks like it. Not that I did it. But there’s a threatening note that looks like it came from me. Now they want the clothes I was wearing. If they match fibers, I’m in big trouble.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Could they match fibers?” Lorry asked.

  Nick looked steadily into her eyes. “You really think I could have done it?”

  Her look was just as steady. “I don’t know.”

  “You really think I could have done it?”

  “I’ve only known you since Friday. How could I know what you might do?”

  He walked over to the window. His voice was low, tinged with bitterness. “I thought you… at least…”

  “Oh, Nick, this isn’t a movie. This is real.”

  He faced her. “What are you talking about?” he asked impat
iently.

  “In the movies, when everyone thinks some man did it, there’s always a woman who says she knows he couldn’t have done it. And she never has any reason for believing he’s innocent other than that ‘she saw it in his eyes’ or ‘she just knew’ or something like that.”

  “Is that so impossible?”

  “Yes.”

  Neither spoke for a long time. Nick turned to look out the window again.

  “Nick, I wish I could say that I can’t believe you could ever murder another person, but I would be lying.”

  He spun to face her. She could see the anger in his eyes and his clenched fists. “Well, you’d better get out of here then. Don’t you think you’re being a little too brave, being alone in a room with a murderer?”

  “Oh. Nick, I didn’t say I wanted you to be the one! Or even that I thought you were. Just that I don’t know you well enough to know. Does anyone ever know another person that well?”

  “Well, if it’s not me, it could be a relative of yours, couldn’t it? So I guess it better be me.”

  “Not necessarily. There’s Hildy, or Shauna, or—Oh, don’t you see, Nick, it could be anyone! Any person here, including myself, is capable of murdering another person. Anyone here.”

  “Oh, come on! Ellen? Anne? Shauna? They couldn’t. You couldn’t, either.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know, that’s all. Instinct.”

  “Well, I think you’re wrong. For different reasons, perhaps. But anyone could kill another person if the reason was right.”

  “Self-defense, maybe. But not cold-blooded murder.”

  “Every person could, Nick. Not just some people. Every one. I don’t know what could drive each of us to murder, but something could.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lorry’s exhaustion overwhelmed her. Not knowing what else to do, she picked up her suitcase and started for the door.

  But Nick moved quickly and reached it first. He was a foot in front of her. She stopped and looked up into his face. With a sudden shock, she realized that he was under a great deal of strain. His eyes were dull and the muscles around his mouth sagged. Without realizing what she was doing, she put her free hand out.

  Nick grasped her hand in both of his. “Lorry, do you have any idea what this weekend has been like for me? First, I feel really bad because I’m disappointing my best friend by turning down a job offer he went out of his way to get me—one anyone in his right mind would kill for. Then, as soon as I get here, who do I see but a girl I once asked to marry me and who turned me down so hard I decided I’d never allow myself to be vulnerable with any woman again. Right after that, I meet you and all the barriers I’ve put up against women go flying in all directions. It’s as if all my life I’ve been stumbling around in the dark and now the sun has come out and I can see what’s possible. And then I realize you are definitely not likely to be attracted to me, and what happens? I want you even more!