“A loan he made for the bank?”
“No. I mean when he purchased the center for his own personal investment.”
“The one at the Route 99 junction?”
“That’s it. Seemed like an excellent purchase when he sunk every dime he had into the thing, but then the whole real estate market went bad and his major tenant broke their lease. He’s got a lemon.”
“I’ve passed it, it’s half vacant.”
“It will probably go under,” Herb said as he picked up and began to polish a piggy bank.
Noah Washington and Raleigh Bridger were huddled in a corner of the small study talking in whispers. They looked up as Will entered. Will sat at the desk, fumbled in his breast pocket for a pad, and then methodically searched the desk for a writing implement. His movements were purposely slow and cumbersome. A sidelong glance at Noah Washington, whose face reflected annoyance, indicated that the calculated effect was working. With a slight grunt, the small attorney reached over the desk and handed Will a gold fountain pen.
“I suppose you want some sort of statement from my client?”
Will’s eyes widened. “Client, Noah? I hadn’t realized that we were at that point. I’m just a small town police officer, a woman has been murdered, and I thought the three of us could talk things over. Right, Raleigh?”
Raleigh glanced at Noah and then back to Will. “I’m ready to make a statement.”
“As to your activities this evening.”
“What else are you interested in?”
“Very well. Let’s proceed. Now, I want to get all the details correct. You worked overtime at the bank, and then left about …”
“No.”
“I don’t understand, Raleigh. You told me a few minutes ago that you were working at the bank, you weren’t sure what time your secretary left, and then you got home …”
“He said no,” Noah said sharply.
“Then where was he?”
“I was upset about some personal matters and left the bank about 5:30 or maybe 5:45. I wanted a drink before I went home. I drove down to the End of the Pier and stayed there until 8:20 or after.”
“End of the Pier,” Will repeated as he laboriously wrote in the pad and underlined the name of the restaurant where he and L.C. had dinner earlier in the evening. “They have terrific lobster there.”
“I only drank.”
“You weren’t there, Raleigh.”
“What?”
“Wait a minute, Will,” Noah snapped. “I don’t care for this type of accusatory interrogation.”
“This isn’t an interrogation, Counselor. This is a brief statement from the murdered woman’s husband. I want to know where in hell he was this evening.”
“It’s not germane.”
“Crap!”
“Now wait a goddamn minute!”
“No, damn it, Noah. Advise your client, as I assume you have, that a simple statement of his activities is not prejudicial nor does it necessarily implicate him in any manner.”
“Small town cop, my foot,” Raleigh said and turned away from them.
“You’re calling my client a liar. I resent that and will instruct him to refuse to answer any further questions.”
“You do that, Noah. But before you do, let me tell you that his first statement to me indicated that he was working at the bank tonight. We have proof from the security alarm people that he wasn’t. He’s now had time to consider that. A moment ago he informed me that he was in a restaurant at the same time Laura Converse and I were. And he wasn’t there, Noah.”
“You were at the End of the Pier?”
“With my date, until after nine.”
Noah put his hand on Raleigh’s knee. “Raleigh, the man only wants a simple statement. A lie can only hurt you. As your attorney, I strongly advise you to make a straightforward statement.”
“I don’t want other people involved.”
“Like it or not she is involved.”
Raleigh was agitated as he paced the room. “People won’t understand.”
“For the present, it’s not necessary that anyone outside of this room know any of this,” Will said. “I can’t make that a firm commitment for the complete future, but I’ll try.”
Raleigh looked at the two men expectantly and seemed to make a decision. He spoke in a torrent of words. “I was with Sandy. Sandra Devonshire. We were at the restaurant for a few minutes. We had one drink and then left. I drove her home and stayed until way after eight.”
“The Devonshire girl who works at the bank?”
“Yes. She’s my secretary.”
“Where does she live?”
“In the Fairlawn apartments off Forum Street.”
“Are you having an affair with Miss Devonshire?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Will nodded. “Perhaps. Now earlier, you told me that you almost hit a man as you drove home.”
“That was untrue.”
“Oh?”
“I said that because of my bloody nose. I hit it on the car as I got out. I thought it would look bad if I had blood on me.”
“I see. Then you did not have a near accident with anyone?”
“No. I drove straight home.”
“And arrived at what time?”
“About a quarter to nine. I walked in and saw … found Mauve and I called Noah right away. A few minutes later, after I had composed myself, I called the police.”
“I see.”
“A simple enough statement,” Noah said. “Obviously a man in Mr. Bridger’s position doesn’t want the slightest hint of scandal concerning Miss Devonshire. Even if it was perfectly innocent, on the face of it there is a certain tone.”
“I’ll grant that,” Will said.
“At this point, you must agree that we have been most cooperative. Now, I want my client to see a medical doctor. He is upset to the point of a complete breakdown and needs attention as soon as possible.”
“Was your wife insured, Raleigh?”
“See here, Will. I told you he’s ill.”
“Yes or no?” Will’s voice was low and matter of fact.
“Yes she was. I believe there is a $250,000 policy outstanding. It was taken out years ago by her father, and we always kept it up. It was term with no cash value, and so I never borrowed on it.”
“Then you have been borrowing recently?”
“That’s it.” Noah stood up and pushed Raleigh toward the door. “Unless you have a reason, and there’s no legal reason I can conceive of, I’m taking my client to his physician.”
They stood in the door as if waiting for a thundering reply from Will. Instead, Will walked slowly toward them. “I think that’s a fine idea. But, Noah, as an officer of the court, I charge you with the responsibility of seeing that your client presents himself at my office by ten tomorrow morning.”
“He’ll be there.”
Will stood in the center of the small study tapping Noah Washington’s pen on his pad. There would be a lot to do in the morning: a talk with the liquor store owner, Sandy Devonshire should be interviewed, and it wouldn’t hurt to get in-depth information on Raleigh’s financial condition. He feared the direction in which the investigation was leading, and that didn’t include dealing with the television and newspaper people in the morning.
“Wait just a damn minute!” It was patrolman Dave August’s voice from the hall.
Will leaped for the door and was halfway down the hall when he realized the situation.
Dave was crouched by the door with drawn service revolver. He had the gun extended in text book fashion and aimed at Noah and Raleigh.
“They’re trying to leave, Chief,” the voice croaked from the nervous officer.
“Oh, Jesus,” Will said half to himself. “It’s all right, Dave. Mr. Bridger has permission to go with his attorney. By the way, Raleigh, we’ll have to seal your house for a few days. If it’s not too inconvenient, could you stay somewhere else?”
“Dave, we haven’t shot down an attorney and banker in Lantern City for a number of years.”
“The bastard gave me a shove.”
“Who?”
“The banker prick, wouldn’t give me a mortgage loan last year either.”
The door flew open to admit a tall man wearing a long black cape with a vivid red lining. He stomped his feet in a quick one-two that was almost a parody of a dance step. Doctor Joseph Farley laughed in a high falsetto.
“In case they didn’t tell you, Chief Barnes, the body is next door. Or maybe you don’t like the sight of blood. “He cackled wildly.
“You have anything, Doc?”
“She’s dead.”
“Jesus, that really helps.”
“The carotid artery has been severed causing an extreme loss of blood.”
“That occurred to me, Doctor. How about an educated guess as to the time of death?”
“Sometime between 7:30 and 8:30. We’re taking the bag to the office now. I’ll get you a full report in four or five days.”
“Four or five days? You’re out of your mind.”
“Well, I’m busy too, you know.”
“Wait a minute, Farley. I want a report in my office by noon tomorrow. Understand?”
“I just happened to be on call tonight so you don’t have to get huffy. I also have guests waiting for me at home.”
“Your guest is going to be on a slab in half an hour, and you had better goddamn well be bent over her doing your bit. Understand?”
“Well, I never …” With a swirl of his cape the doctor stormed from the house.
“Can we go home now?” L.C. asked from the couch in the living room.
Will turned to see her curled up on the sofa with her legs pulled under her slim body. “The forensic people must be over there by now. I have to check on a few more things.”
“Will.” She pulled him toward her and whispered in his ear. “You’ve got your striped boxer shorts on.” She covered a laugh as he glared and left the house.
In order to avoid further conversation concerning dear old dad, and to preclude a further pig tour, it seemed circumspect for her to lie back on the couch and close her eyes. She felt a blanket pulled gently over her, and then heard the soft pad of the bulky man leaving the room.
They would be taking Mauve Bridger to the ambulance, and then to wherever it was that Doctor Farley did his thing. Will and the state lab people would be combing the house, taking finger prints and a multitude of photographs.
She stared at the ceiling and thought about the Bridgers. The first time she had met Raleigh was that day in the old house when Will forced her to come downstairs. She had found Raleigh at the kitchen table with the agency’s books and financial statements spread before him.
He had looked up and smiled boyishly. “You need immediate operating capital in order to survive, and I think I know how we can get it.”
She had numbly followed his tracings of possible secondary financing, remortgaging and establishing a line of credit with a commercial bank. The figures had tumbled and wavered before her until after an hour, clarity had returned, and she had pulled a chair closer to the table and begun to make notes.
Five years ago the Bridgers had only recently arrived in town. Raleigh, a minor officer at a large Hartford bank, had been recruited by Wadsworth Strickland and brought to Lantern City. She thought back to what she knew of Raleigh.
Evidently there wasn’t any money on his side of the family, as she knew he had been a scholarship student at Trinity. Immediately after graduation he had gone to work as a bank trainee. His natural abilities and looks had stood him well in a banking career, and eventually he had met and married Mauve.
She had never known the dead woman well. Their life styles were so different that they had only occasional social contact. She knew that Mauve’s father had been an extremely successful bond salesman, and that the dead woman had attended that type of boarding school and junior college where the girls majored in athletics and sexual innuendo.
There must have been turmoil and disappointment in their life when Wadsworth Strickland indicated to the board of directors of the bank that he wanted his son to be president. There had also been rumors about the marriage as Herb had indicated, but then again there were always rumors concerning attractive couples who lived on the point.
A hand shook her shoulder and she awakened with a start. The uneasy dream of a man chasing her through the snow with an upraised ice skate was still vivid and real.
She looked up at Will bending over her. “What time is it?”
“Two. We’re through for tonight. Come on and I’ll take you home.”
Will flipped the car keys toward her and let her slide into the driver’s seat. He leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes. “I’m beat, and tomorrow’s going to be a hell of a day.”
“Raincheck on that brandy?”
“No, I could use a nightcap.”
She drove carefully and competently, applying the brakes when necessary, in an easy pedal action so as not to skid in the deepening snow. In ten minutes they pulled into her parking area at the apartment.
Lantern City Harbor Condominiums had been built three years earlier, and she had been one of the first to buy a unit with a choice view of the water. Outside of the countless hours of work at the agency and garage, it had been the first positive action she had taken after Frank’s death.
L.C. gave Will a poke in the ribs. “I’ve got some Four Star that’s been hibernating in the cupboard.”
“You talked me into it.”
They rode silently in the elevator, and he leaned against the hall wall as she fumbled for her door keys.
The apartment consisted of two bedrooms, a bath and a half, kitchen, dining area and long living room with a spectacular view of the water. Although the rooms were tastefully furnished, the lack of personal objects gave it an aura of impermanence. It was simply a place for her to sleep, while waking hours were spent at work, or in summer weather on the Sound in her day sailer.
Will sank on the couch, kicked off his shoes and planted his feet on the coffee table.
“Hurry with the brandy.”
“In a second.” L.C. threw her jacket over a chair and hurried to the kitchen. It took only moments to locate the brandy pushed to the rear of the cupboard and to rinse two dusty brandy snifters. She poured them each half full and returned to the living room.
“I’m going to change, be back in a sec. You can take your pants off.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“That’s an offer to sew your trousers.”
He gave her a long look. “I’ll be ready.”
She softly closed the bedroom door and stripped off her clothes until she stood naked in the center of the room. She ran her hands over the slightly rounded protrusion of her stomach and down over the long sheen of her legs broken only by the scar on her thigh. Exception for the accident, the years had been kind to her physically. She still had the body of a young woman.
She laughed aloud at what she had decided.
It had been five years, and now there had been a full year dating Will … although they hardly seemed like formal dates, but meetings between two lonely friends who enjoyed each other’s company. The sexuality was there, it had always been present in his looks, his jesting remarks, and his attempts to make love to her. He had tried, in gentle ways that retreated quickly if she showed the slightest resistence.
Her self-imposed continence had been born out of senseless deaths, and perhaps it should end fittingly on the night of another senseless death.
Yes, if would be so.
She rummaged through the bottom drawer of the small dresser until she found the red peignoir that had never been worn. She selected matching bikini panties and decided not to wear a brassiere.
There was a dull but not unpleasant ache in
her lower stomach and her hands began to tremble. She went into the bathroom and dabbed a small amount of perfume behind her ears. As she looked in the mirror an apparition of Eddie Bennett leaned against the doorway and stared insolently at her. She put the perfume back in the medicine chest and slammed the door to break the hazy fantasy.
It would be an act of love, and it would cleanse them of the horror they had witnessed at the Bridger house.
She opened the bedroom door and saw that he had stretched out on the couch with his pants neatly folded on a nearby chair. She walked softly over toward him and knelt on the floor.
Will Barnes was in a deep sleep. With a bemused shake of her head, L.C. crossed the room, sat down and began to mend his trousers.
Chapter Four
The alarm went off at seven.
L.C. awoke to find herself clutching a pillow tight against her chest. She pummeled the pillow in frustration a moment and then reached across to the bedside clock to click off the alarm. She felt chilly, and realized that somehow during the night she had squirmed out of the peignoir. She clasped her hands over her bare breasts and ironically smiled. Five years to make a decision and then …
There was a hesitant knock on the bedroom door. “You awake, L.C.?”
“I’ll be right out, Will.”
“I found some instant coffee and made two cups. Can I come in?”
She laughed. “Why not?” As the door opened she hastily pulled the sheet around her neck and lay back on the pillow.
Will handed her a cup of coffee and sat on the edge of the bed. She tried to hold the sheet against her neck with her chin and hold the coffee cup at the same time.
“Of course you know that under the laws of this state, two people who occupy the same domicile for an entire night are presumed to have.”
“How little the law knows,” she replied with a small laugh. “You fell asleep on me.”
“I’m sorry, I was really beat. I drank the brandy, and then when you didn’t come back I thought I’d close my eyes for a minute—and that was it.”
“I took a while because I had decided something.”
He ran his hand over her hip. “Oh, what’s that?”
The Killing Edge Page 4