I'd Kill For That

by Marcia Talley

  She was a little tense, but not badly jolted. She raised one exquisite eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that make you look rather foolish, Roman? You could hardly claim to have just discovered. It would make you look like an idiot. Everyone else knows.”

  “You’ve probably slept with everyone else,” he replied, now smiling broadly at her. “And if you are going to say that I was—I think ‘complacent’ is the word—then yes, I was. I really don’t care who you sleep with, as long as it doesn’t have to be me.”

  “Then you should be very happy!” she snapped. “Because there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that it will be!”

  “How about theft?” he said gently.

  She went white.

  “A little dipping into the trust fund here and there?” he went on. “Did you sleep with Arthur to persuade him to do it for you?” He was referring to the lawyer who was the fund’s trustee. “Of course, I have just discovered this.” He pulled a slight face to let her know he was mocking her. “And I am horrified. I am suing you for divorce. If you agree to a very reasonable sum—well, reasonable to me—then I shall not press charges. I think that is very good of me. I am not a vindictive man.”

  She started to speak, but there was nothing to say. She could mock him about her affairs, his temporary lapses into highly eccentric behavior, and she had. But money was serious. Even in Gryphon Gate money was deadly serious. No one forgave crimes of property.

  “Yes?” he said with raised eyebrows. “You have ten minutes to consider your answer. I rather think I have waited long enough. It feels as if there is a storm coming, which might put an end to things like telephone calls, e-mails, and so on. Let’s get it over with.”

  “I’ll … I’ll find a way to put it back!” she spluttered.

  He opened his eyes very wide. “Really? In ten minutes?”

  She shook her head as if to focus her vision properly, and realized at last that something in him had changed. She was beaten.

  He smiled. “A reasonable settlement,” he promised. “And that’s an end to it. You are free to go whenever you wish, and sleep with anyone you like. And so am I. I have things to do, important things. Be gone before the storm hits.” He rose to his feet. “Take your things with you. And please be careful that it is only yours. The alternative would be most unpleasant for you. Good-bye, Mignon.” And without turning around he walked outside into the rising wind.

  * * *

  Tiffany was in the bar, and at last it was empty, and she had an opportunity to use the telephone in private. She had been waiting for over two hours, but every time she crossed towards the office, someone came in gasping, demanding a drink. Now she intended to go, regardless. One offhanded remark about Toni Sinclair from the Reverend Armbruster, of all people, had given her the last piece of the puzzle.

  She picked up the phone and dialed, keeping her eyes towards the open door and the bar. She could not afford to be overheard. It was ringing at the other end. Please, God, let her be at home! Answer! Answer, damn it!

  Someone passed beyond the bar. Whoever it was, let them wait!

  It was still ringing. Where was she?

  The person moved back towards the bar. Damn! It was the guard, Leland Ford. Wish there was time so pursue him. All sorts of ideas were possible. He could be a good detective, without it being for the police. After all, wasn’t she?

  “Isobel Clancy,” the familiar voice said on the line.

  “Ah.” Tiffany caught her breath. “Mrs. Clancy, this is Tiffany here.” She heard the swift gasp, the controlled expectancy. This time she would fulfil it. “I’ll have news for you tonight. I just need to know one more thing. Was Jason Salinger still working at the company offices the day before Lincoln died?”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  Tiffany waited.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Clancy said at last. “Yes, I know he was, because I saw him there myself. Why? Do you think he killed Lincoln?”

  “Yes, I do. I have just a little more to prove, then I’ll have it. Thank you.” And she hung up and went to see what she could do for Leland Ford.

  * * *

  Toni had persuaded Bertha to take Miranda out, late as it was, and in spite of the weather, which was now gray and blustery. There was no rain yet, but it was coming.

  There was a knock on the door and she winced as if she had been hit. Please, heaven, let it be Jason Salinger so she could get it over with. Funny how disadvantaged she felt with her jewelery gone. Every piece of it represented some event in her life. It was as if the thief had taken her past, as well as a great deal of money. If Jason wanted more, she might have to start converting a certain amount of principal to cash. That was her safety, her future. One thing Lincoln had done right. She wished he had not poisoned so much memory.

  She opened the door. It was Jason looking smug and handsome. Nothing about him pleased her. She wanted this to be over as quickly as possible. “Come in,” she ordered, stepping back to allow him to pass.

  “Thank you,” he accepted, swaggering a little as he went across the hallway and into the main room. He looked around appreciatively. “I like this house. It has an air to it. I could be happy here.”

  Toni felt as if she had swallowed ice. Fear churned in her stomach, nauseating her. “No you couldn’t,” she contradicted him. “This is my home.”

  He looked at her with a wide, leering smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of putting you out. Last thing on my mind. I was thinking how good it all is. I’ve come to like Gryphon Gate altogether. It’s a great life: golf, swimming, a little bridge now and then, excellent bars, even horseback riding if you want. And the marina, of course, for those who have boats—as you do.”

  “Yes, it’s good.” Why couldn’t she stop her voice from shaking? Could he hear it? “And I mean to keep it!” That was bravado. If he insisted, she would have to pay! She had told him to kill Lincoln, even if she hadn’t meant to. Would any judge take that into account? He might have, in the beginning. She could have simply denied it. It was only her word against Jason’s. Except that, as Jason had pointed out, he had no quarrel with Lincoln. Far from it, he admired him enormously, and they had been friends! And he had nothing to gain, whereas Toni had everything to gain. Which of them would anyone believe? No, she would have to pay.

  “I mean for you to keep it,” he said soothingly. “I expect you’ll live here for the rest of your life. Miranda will grow up here, I dare say be married from here. Why not?”

  She was feeling sicker. What did he want, with his soft voice and his obscene smile? “Probably,” she agreed. Now her throat was so tight she could hardly force the words through.

  “Oh, definitely, sweetheart,” he answered her.

  “Don’t call me ‘sweetheart,’ you bastard!” she snarled.

  “I think it’s a very good idea,” he continued. He looked around again, savoring the room and everything in it. He licked his lips. “Because I think you should marry me. Then we’ll be a nice family, you, me, and Miranda. Of course, maybe a brother or sister for her in time, but let’s not rush things. Three of us, to begin with.”

  She could not believe it. It was preposterous—and disgusting! She could not find a word violent enough to express her loathing. Now her whole body was trembling. “Never!” she said between her teeth. “I’d rather be dead!”

  “If you want, I’m sure that can be arranged,” he answered, still smiling at her. “But after we’re married, not before. I’ll look after Miranda, I promise you—sweetheart! Just as Lincoln would have!”

  She threw herself at him, lashing out with her fists, wanting to strike his face, claw at his skin, tear him. But he saw her coming and caught her wrists, only very slightly staggering backwards under the onslaught of her weight. They struggled for a moment or two, breathing hard, muscles clenched. Then he twisted her arms and threw her back, letting her go.

  She cried out in pain, and fell backwards, stumbling over the settee and collapsing onto it.
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br />   “Don’t do that again,” he warned. “There are laws against hitting your spouse, you know, husband or wife. Wouldn’t want to end up in prison now, would you? Think of Miranda. Terrible to lose both parents, one way or another.”

  I won’t! It beat in her head—I won’t ever! But she did not say the words. The thought was unbearable. She really would rather be dead—except for Miranda. She had to stay alive for Miranda. She had to protect her. She said nothing. It choked her to give in, the words simply would not come.

  He was waiting, watching her suffer.

  “Get out!” she whispered. “Get out of my house!”

  “All right.” He looked annoyed, sulky, almost as if he thought that she might have agreed immediately. “But I’ll be back—in fact I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and you’d better have a different answer for me then. I’m not playing, Toni, I’m perfectly, deadly serious.” And with that he swaggered past her to the door and out into the gloom under a heavy sky.

  * * *

  The lights had been on in Toni’s house, and Roman Gervase saw Jason Salinger inside. Of course he could not hear what either of them had said, but he saw Salinger’s sneer, and he saw very clearly the tension and the revulsion in Toni’s face—the way she moved her body, as if the thought of Salinger touching her made her ill.

  That thought made Roman ill as well. He was glad he had taken certain precautions. He had to muster all the forces of intelligence he possessed in order to conquer the emotion and instinct that urged him to storm in there, pick up a chair, and smash it over Salinger’s head. But he knew that it would accomplish nothing, and make him look absurd. And surely he had done enough of that already. The thought of some of his escapades made him sweat with embarrassment. How on earth would he ever live them down?

  Then he remembered the insane service at the church, and a great many people behaving in ways they would certainly not care to remember, still less to have anyone else remember. Of course it was induced by some substance that Tiffany had brought, or those friends of hers. No doubt she had a reason. She had been inquiring very discreetly into a lot of things since she had been here. He did not know for whom, but he had worked out why.

  Naturally, everyone realized about the substance now, and excused themselves accordingly. But his bizarre behavior was substance-induced as well. The doctor had given him those pills to combat the headaches he still got now and then, left over from the accident and his head injury. Now his medication had been changed, and the whole world had righted itself, so at least he could see it clearly, even if he did not always like what he saw. Especially, he did not like Toni being frightened and obviously threatened in some way.

  At first he had merely liked her. She was less critical than the others at Gryphon Gate, less intolerant, less prone to mock. The small kindness she had shown him had loomed large where he was concerned. Gradually, he had seen the beauty in her beneath the surface polish. Her hunger and her dreams made her vulnerable, human, able so often to think of others before herself. And he liked her anger as well, the way she leaped in to defend the deer and the swans without thinking of possible cost to herself. He loved enthusiasm—and someone who could make him laugh.

  If only there were something he could do to rid her of Salinger. Of course she would not trust him. Whatever he did, he would have to do it without her help. Sympathy would be fine, all very sweet and friendly; but what she actually needed was intelligence, cool thinking, and decisive action. He knew exactly where to go to find an ally with those qualities.

  He turned and walked away from his discreet watching place and made his way back toward the clubhouse and the bar.

  He found two or three people there and was obliged to wait, shifting impatiently from foot to foot until Tiffany was free.

  “Yes, Mr. Gervase?” she said pleasantly.

  There was no time for finesse. He smiled and dropped his voice to the slightest murmur. “I know who you are, and why you are here, Miss Turner. I think you need to act very quickly, or the whole thing will slip beyond your control, or anybody’s.” He saw the denial in her face. “I’m perfectly serious! Jason Salinger has just been to Mrs. Sinclair’s house and threatened her. I couldn’t hear what with, but she attacked him and he threw her off. She looked very frightened, and he walked arrogantly, as if he knew he had won. It will be only a matter of time before she has to give in.”

  She was still uncertain, on the edge of speech and not daring to commit herself.

  “I know you want to find out who killed Lincoln Sinclair,” he said more urgently. “I just don’t know why, or for whom. But I know Salinger is involved, and I think Toni could be next. Maybe…” He stopped. It was stupid. No one could mistake Anka for Toni. “… The jewelry was Toni’s, even if she doesn’t dare admit it to the police. Someone is after her.”

  Tiffany made her decision. “I’ll get one of the other girls to cover for me. Meet me outside in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be there!” he said grimly. “And if I have to do this alone, I will. But I could spoil whatever you are here for!”

  “You don’t need to threaten me, Mr. Gervase,” she replied. “I know that. I don’t want her hurt any more than you do. And I’d love to catch Jason Salinger so far out on a limb he’d never crawl back again—to anything!”

  Roman smiled. She was startled how it changed his face. It lit him from inside, and she realized how attractive he could be.

  “Who for?” he asked her the moment they met outside. The air was colder and fat drops of rain splattered on the concrete. Out in the bay there were broad wind patterns spreading across the water and here and there white crests.

  “Mrs. Clancy,” she answered. She might as well tell the whole truth now. Time was getting short, and she had a strong conviction that Roman Gervase had both seen and understood a lot more than most people imagined. “She’s Lincoln Sinclair’s sister. She knows he was murdered, but she doesn’t know by whom. She does know that whoever it is is blackmailing Toni, and what she is terrified of is that Toni will pay them and lose all the money Lincoln left her. But what she’s most afraid of is that it will come out why Toni would have wanted to kill Lincoln, apart from money, which she had anyway.”

  “Toni wouldn’t kill him!” he said instantly, anger and defiance sharp in his eyes and his voice.

  Tiffany smiled. So Roman was at least a little in love with her. Why not? His wife was a tart, albeit an expensive one, and Toni Sinclair had a gentleness about her that would last far longer than a good figure or flashing eyes. And she could be funny and brave as well—more than could be said of most of the women here. They were like expensive collectors’ eggs—perfect to look at, very brittle, and totally empty inside. Maybe Toni went a little overboard about the deer, but it was a good eccentricity. Everyone needs a little madness to be perfectly sane.

  “No, Mrs. Clancy knows that,” she soothed. “But she had plenty of cause, and that’s what she wants to hide.”

  “Cause?”

  “Lincoln was rather heavily into schoolgirls,” she said patiently. “On the Net, but he’d begun practising a little ‘in the flesh’ as well, so to speak. It was only a matter of time before it got extremely ugly. Toni was pretty broken up when she found out. It shattered her world. That was about the time Salinger showed up rather a lot.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Vanessa Smart-Drysdale had come out of the club door and was looking at them.

  Roman saw her, too, and started to walk away. Tiffany lengthened her stride to keep up with him.

  “Poisonous woman,” he said between his teeth. “Reminds me of my wife—my ex-wife, as soon as it can be arranged! Sorry—I shouldn’t have told you that—it’s just such a relief.” He looked relieved as he said it; there was a weight gone from him, he stood straighter, there was more color in his face, and he walked with a certain new grace.

  But he was still anxious. “Why?” he asked. “What has Salinger to do with it? Did he kill Lincoln? Why would he do
that?”

  “Yes. I’m pretty sure he did,” she answered, regretting the next bit. “I think Toni asked him to.”

  “That’s a lie!” he said immediately, anger rising in his voice.

  “It’s a good one,” she pointed out. “He’s been blackmailing her ever since, and she’s been paying him nice big slices of all that nice big inheritance she got from Lincoln’s death. Not that Lincoln wasn’t a thorough turd,” she added. “He was. Unfortunately, that doesn’t give anyone a license to electrocute him on the john, more’s the pity. I could think of a few for whom that fate would be particularly fitting—starting with Jason Salinger himself.”

  “What does Mrs. Clancy want?” he demanded. “Justice, I suppose?!”

  “Certainly not,” she answered decisively. “I think she’s not convinced that he hasn’t already got it. She wants silence. She’s older than he was. Got a couple of children herself, with big ambitions socially. Ivy League, good marriages, all that sort of thing. Tend to find a few doors closed if uncle was a bit of a pedophile.”

  “So she doesn’t want Toni prosecuted for it?” He turned to look at her hopefully.

  “Last thing she wants,” Tiffany agreed. “She wants her protected.”

  “Then we need to get rid of Salinger quickly. He’s closing in for a kill of some kind,” he urged. “And if he murdered Lincoln, then if it suited him, he’d murder Toni, if he thought he’d get away with it.” Now he was afraid. She could see it naked in his eyes.

  “I know,” she agreed. “I’ve finally got the proof that he killed Lincoln.”

  “Then use it! We don’t want him tried, but wouldn’t it be enough to make him go away?” he asked. “Lodge it somewhere safe and say that if he ever comes anywhere near Toni again, even writes to her or calls her, it goes straight to the D.A.”

  She hesitated. “He would say he did it for her. He thinks he’s been terribly clever hiding it, but there’s ample proof she paid him and is still paying him. If she wasn’t involved, then why doesn’t she tell him to go to hell?”