“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” He took a moment to compose himself, then very calmly said, “Does it give you some kind of sick pleasure meddling in people’s lives like this? Accusing them of murder? And you call yourself a minister. I think you’d better leave my office before I call the security guard.”
“Go ahead, Anthony, call the security guard. We both know that it’s not exactly in your best interest to do that, don’t we? We both know exactly what happened that day. But in case your memory is failing you, I’ll be happy to remind you. Let’s see, where shall I begin? Maybe I should begin the day of the garden party. The day I first knew Scott had hired my father for a reason. He was not mistaken in suspecting his wife of having an affair. What he didn’t realize was that there was more than one man.” I glanced out the window at the Space Needle for a moment, then over at the island across the water, the island that had helped me put all the pieces of this dysfunctional puzzle together.
“It wasn’t Scott, Amy was afraid of that day I heard her talking to her lover in the library. She was telling him that she was afraid of you.”
“I don’t know what you think you heard, but you’re really stretching your imagination here, Mrs. Campbell.”
“She would never have been afraid of Scott. Because he was too in love with her to ever hurt her. But you. You don’t know about love, Anthony, do you? You don’t love anyone or anything. You only possess them. But you had lost possession of Amy. She had moved on to Jake Holbrook. That’s why you ran him down that day. You saw him standing on the sidewalk, about to cross the street, and you could not control yourself.”
“You’re crazy! Amy was the one who killed Jake. The police proved that.”
“Not quite. The police have evidence that Amy’s car hit Jake. They did not realize that you were the one driving it. Two birds with one stone, right, Anthony? You could kill Jake and make Amy look like the guilty party. Only, of course, you weren’t really thinking clearly because Amy would tell the police you were driving her car. You were the spurned lover who had killed the competition.”
“Only one problem with this so called theory of yours, Mrs. Campbell. What would I be doing driving Amy’s car?” He was smiling, the overconfidence revealing the ego state he was in, was always in.
“I’m not sure, but—”
He laughed. “I didn’t think so. Stretching reality a bit here, aren’t we?”
“What I can tell you is that when I stopped by Amy and Scott’s the first time, her car was not in the driveway. But there was a blue Mercedes sedan sitting parked in front of her house, a sky blue Mercedes just like yours.”
He raised an eyebrow as if to discount my words.
“I remember it quite well,” I challenged. “Once I got the rest of the clutter out of my mind. I can’t say for sure why you were using Amy’s car that day, but I suspect it had to do with Danny. I suspect you decided to switch cars for the day rather than transfer the car seat and all the other baby paraphernalia. Wasn’t that something you did on occasion?” I didn’t wait for an answer.
“The problem was, when you got to Amy’s she knew what you had done. She knew Jake had been run down, by a white car. Her car. She knew it was you who had killed him. So you had no choice but to kill her as well, did you, Anthony?”
His arms fell to his sides, and with them, his resolve to appear innocent. “She would have gone to the police, the stupid bitch! Why couldn’t she have left well enough alone. If she had only stayed faithful to me.” His hardened face turned to that of a little boy’s. The charm had melted away long ago. And now the powerful facade was crumbling before me.
“I loved her. I really loved her. But she wouldn’t let me near her anymore. She said I was too possessive, too controlling. She didn’t want me anymore.”
“So, she moved on to Jake, and you continued to threaten her, didn’t you? You threatened to expose your affair to Scott, and she cared enough about him that she didn’t want him to know.”
Anthony’s jaw tightened. “She was afraid if Scott divorced her, she’d never get custody of her baby.”
“That was what it was about, wasn’t it? That was what you held over her. She wanted to divorce Scott. She wanted out of the marriage, out of the whole Morrison family, but you had her convinced that if she left, she wouldn’t be taking her baby with her.” The picture was coming into clearer focus now. “That’s why she was caught between wanting to love him and being afraid to. She was terrified she would lose another child.”
“Another child?”
“She and her first husband lost their baby.”
He looked upset, as if feeling the pain that Amy might have felt. But as much as I liked to give people the benefit of the doubt, I knew the real reason for his consternation. It was not sadness. It was the wounded ego. He had just been told something he did not know. He had not been in control after all.
“Well, now if you’re finished harassing me, I have work to do.” Once again the facade was intact.
He thought this was it. He believed that he could murder two people and go on with his life as usual.
“I don’t think so.”
His laugh was almost a snicker. “You think the police are going to believe this cockamamie story you’ve constructed, just to make it look as if you solved a case where there is none? There is no way in Hell that the police are going to buy your story. It’s all theory and no proof. They have absolutely no evidence of murder. Not one mark on her body—”
“She made it easy for you, didn’t she—drugging herself with valium to numb the pain, escaping to the tranquillity of the Jacuzzi—”
He said nothing, but his grin answered my question. “You see, no proof—no case.”
“Except for one thing. I’m certain that further exploration of Amy’s car will produce plenty of evidence—fingerprints, hair samples, for instance. Besides which, you’ve admitted that my theory was right.”
“To you maybe, but if you think I’d ever admit this to the police, you’re crazy.”
“You just did.” The door pushed open and Jim Gimble walked in. Behind him was Jerry Bridges, holding the listening device that was attached to the microphone in my pocket.
Jerry kissed me on the cheek and asked, “Are you okay, Jenny?”
“I’m fine. But very glad to see you.”
* * *
“Okay, you two, so you think you don’t need me anymore,” Charlie said.
This time Charlie and I had included Jerry in our celebration at the Shamrock and Thistle.
Jerry winked at me. “Sorry, Professor, but there wasn’t time to call you. Your daughter was heading down to that law office, and I knew you’d want me no more than a step behind her.”
“True. Now are you going to let me in on how you put it all together?”
Jerry nodded in my direction.
Wrinkling my forehead as if that would help me think, I tried to explain. “I’m not sure, but it was all there in my head.”
“That music kept haunting her,” Jerry said.
“What music?” Charlie asked.
“It’s the music from an old movie about a ballerina and her possessive teacher. He’s completely mad. He won’t let her stop dancing. Like Anthony. If you watch him with his things, he’s so controlling of everything in his life. From his statues to his wife, to his mistress.”
“But the music, what does it have to do—?”
“The music from that movie was the same music he played for Amy at the funeral. I finally figured it out.”
“And that’s how you knew he had murdered her?”
“I couldn’t get it out of my head. I knew it had to be there for a reason. And of course, doing pottery with Meredith helped. I couldn’t get it perfect. All my pieces had flaws. And I thought of Anthony Morrison and how everything had to be perfect. Amy seemed perfect, didn’t she? But she wasn’t. He realized that she had a major flaw. She didn’t really love him. She was looking for a man to re
place her father. He wasn’t it. So he destroyed her.”
“That’s it?” Charlie was looking at me in bewilderment.
“Well, not quite. When I was riding the ferry back from Bainbridge the other day, I helped this lady with her car seat. She was taking it to her ex-husband in Seattle. I remember thinking it would have been easier just to switch cars instead of hauling all the baby gear back and forth. I guess it all stuck in my head, and together it worked its way into a clearer picture of what had happened.”
“So, let me get this straight. You solved this case with some music that was playing over and over in your head, making a wee bowl and by helping a woman with her car seat?”
“Pretty much. And then, when I was taking Jerry’s case notes back to him, I noticed where I’d said Amy’s car was still there. The word still kept jumping out at me. Finally it occurred to me that it wasn’t still there because it hadn’t been there the first time I had arrived. But there it was when I returned, a white Jaguar parked in the driveway. The first time I went to the house, I had parked behind a sky blue Mercedes parked at the curb.”
“Anthony Morrison’s,” Jerry interjected. “He had left it there while he drove Amy’s car. And now that you know as much as I do, Professor, I will take my leave. I have an early day tomorrow.”
Jerry raised his mug to us, gulped down the last of his beer, kissed me on the cheek, patted Charlie on the back, and left the pub.
“Sir Walter Scott said it best, didn’t he? ‘O what a tangled web we weave—’”
“‘—When first we practice to deceive!’” I finished for him.
“Aye.” Charlie smiled at me. “McNair and Associates do it again,” he muttered, sneaking a French fry off my plate.
“Oh, no. Don’t you go getting any ideas, Charlie.”
“Holly leaves on Friday and Matt, beginning of next week. What will you do with yourself?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find plenty to do. And it won’t be solving any cases. At least for a while. A long while.” I was smiling as I pictured myself leading my classes, and playing in Meredith’s pottery studio. “I’m looking forward to getting back to my peaceful life,” I told Charlie. “Don’t call me for a while, at least not in a professional capacity. In fact, I might head up to the island for a bit.”
“Sounds like a plan. What about your camping trip with Joe?”
“After that. He’s agreed to go.”
“Has he now?”
“For the weekend.”
“Good for him.” Charlie held his mug up for the waitress to bring another round. When he turned back to me, he said, “You know I never stopped believing in your intuition, Jenny.”
“But you quit—”
“No, actually I didn’t. I was still investigating this one. I just wasn’t getting anywhere.”
“Why did you tell me—”
“I didn’t want you involved any more. I didn’t want you having anything to do with a murderer, to say nothing of Joe’s objections.”
“I would have been okay,” I mumbled. “I am okay.”
“Aye, you are, lass, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I just forgot you were as stubborn as your old dad.”
“I guess you did.”
“So, It looks like the evidence wasn’t completely wrong, after all,” Charlie said.
“You mean Jake Holbrook? She must have decided to forget older men and father figures and go for someone she could laugh with.”
“Laughing is important.”
“Sure is.”
“You could do with a little more of it yourself,” Charlie said.
I smiled, then laughed. “I’ll work on it.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. I will spend at least five minutes a day laughing.”
“Make it fifty and you’ve got a deal.”
“Okay. Hey, wait a minute, what’s your part of the deal?”
“To not call you to help me with another case.”
“For how long?”
Charlie winked at someone across the room. I didn’t bother turning to see who she was. “A week.”
“A month. No! A summer.”
“You’ve got a deal, darlin’.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “Usually a slow season anyway. Besides, I thought I might nip over to Edinburgh for a few weeks.”
“With a stop over in New York?”
“How did you know?”
“I’m their mother, remember? I know everything.”
“Aye, that you do, lass, that you do.”
Chapter 19
I was sitting at the dinner table with my husband, flowers in a less rustic vase than one I would make, lit candles, my favorite Cabernet, his favorite Chardonnay, and our children off in other parts of the world.
“Not so bad, is it?” I said.
“What’s not so bad?”
“Being alone. Together.”
He smiled and clinked his glass with mine. Then he leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious. “This is kind of a sore subject, I know, Jenny, and I hate to bring it up, but—”
“What?”
“I really don’t want you working with Charlie anymore.”
I stood up to clear our plates from the table. “Joe, I won’t do anything like this one again. This is the first time I’ve been involved with a dangerous case.”
“I know, but you didn’t think it was, until you got into it.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
He leaned back from the table, exasperated.
I did what any respectable non-confrontational person would do. I changed the subject. “Hey, I’ve got a great idea. After our camping trip, why don’t you come up to the island with me?”
He glanced up at the ceiling, then back at me. “I wish I could, Jenny, but I’ve got a huge case load right now. Maybe at the end of the summer.”
Finished clearing the table, I served my super dooper apple strudel with chocolate chip ice cream on top.
“What’s it like at the office these days? Does it feel strange knowing that right down the hall—” I had forgotten. He did not want to talk about it. He did not want to hear the details that had brought the case to its resolution. I had told him bits and pieces, taking as little credit as I could, but for the most part he had put up his hand and shaken his head.
“Each day gets a little further from the memory,” he said.
“It must really be hard for Scott. Have you seen him?”
“A couple times. He and Jim are working together. Richard has gone to work with another firm.”
“Probably had something to do with Erica. Jim never did like her.”
“Possibly.”
“It must be very healing for Scott though, working with his birth father, getting to know him in a different way.”
Joe poured himself another glass of wine. “I’m sure it’s very healing,” he mimicked.
I felt a jolt in my stomach. I hated it when he poked fun at my choice of words, especially words that meant a lot to me.
“Yes, healing,” I repeated. “Most of us are in great need of it.”
Joe turned away, not wanting to get into a battle over a word. But I must have been in an ornery mood, because I kept at it.
“Even you, Joe. And me. Us. Our relationship.”
This got his attention. “What are you talking about, Jenny?”
“Our relationship needs healing, just like Erica and Richard’s, and Hugh and Meredith’s, and just like Scott and Amy’s did. We have to do the inner work”—another expression he did not appreciate—“and strengthen ourselves so that we can strengthen our relationship. I don’t want us seeking solutions in other people, like Amy did. If she had only gotten the help she needed, she wouldn’t have turned to Anthony. And then, when that got difficult, she sought out someone else to take care of her. She—” Chills running up and down my spine, I stopped talking and stared at my h
usband. “But you already know this, don’t you?”
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I shook my head and sat back down on the chair I had abandoned in my exuberance. “That’s why you didn’t want to hear about the case. That’s why you didn’t want me involved, isn’t it? You already knew everything. You knew Amy and Anthony were lovers. You knew—Oh, my God, you must have known that he murdered her!” I was suddenly standing again, backing my way across the room. “You knew he murdered her because she tried to end their affair. You knew, because you were the reason.”
“What the Hell are you talking about, Jenny? You’re hysterical. Sit down. Get a hold of yourself. You’re not making any sense.”
“Yes, I am. For the first time in a long time.” I laughed quite hysterically, then catching my breath, “It’s suddenly all so clear. Why Amy seemed to know I was watching her. And why she was the only one who knew I was a minister. And why neither Charlie nor I could ever seem to spot the other man in her life. And how he managed to disappear from the library that day so quickly, so easily.” I heard myself laughing again, the kind of laugh one attributes to the insane. “Because he didn’t. He was right there, wasn’t he? He was right there all the time. You went out the French doors, and came back around into the house to find me in the hallway.”
“That’s ridiculous, ludicrous— That’s— You’re—” He stopped. His head fell into his hands. It was over. All I could hear were his muffled words, “I’m sorry, Jenny. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how it happened. I wasn’t looking for it. Believe me, I wasn’t. She came after me. Me!”
It really wasn’t all that hard to believe. Amy was desperate for someone to take care of her, and my husband was desperate to take care of someone, more desperate than I had realized.
“I don’t know why she fell in love with me, but I admit that I was flattered as Hell.”
“You really think she loved you?” My vindictiveness was emerging. “She didn’t love you. She wanted someone to take care of her. She was looking for a father.”
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