“Know any of Melvin’s enemies?”
She sipped her tea. “None still alive.” She stayed silent for a moment. “I was one of the people who benefitted from knowing Melvin. I am in debt to him in more ways than one. I know there were dark sides to his career, but I can never criticize him. When my youngest son had medical problems, we had to travel to a hospital in Charlotte. No facility closer had the care he needed. Melvin was frugal, extremely frugal. He didn’t walk out of a room without turning off the light. He made sure his kids didn’t do it either. He would tell them having a light burning in an empty room was a waste of money. He held every dime like it was gold bar. I didn’t even think of asking for fiscal help, not with Mel’s tightness with a dollar. Mamie came over one day with a check and said it was for Ronnie’s medical care. It was a very generous check. I was shocked. If you could pry money away from Melvin, you could do anything. Today Ronnie is fine and down in Florida doing well. He has invited me down to stay with him, but this is my home and I don’t want to leave. I was born here and I will die here.”
April nodded. “I assume you know a great deal about the Woodruff family. Can you think of anyone who would want to kill your brother-in-law?”
“Don’t you mean which family member wanted to kill him? I haven’t forgotten your statement when we had the family meeting yesterday. You still reject the intruder theory.”
“It’s possible, but I think it’s far-fetched.”
“I don’t have a suspect for you. I suppose Melvin and, to be blunt, my sister too made enemies. In their early days Melvin and some of his friends would have conferences around the kitchen table, and Mamie was there. She didn’t leave the room. She stayed and gave her advice and the men took it. She changed or modified a lot of decisions made back in those early days. Mamie knew the importance of money.”
“Is that a nice way of saying she was greedy, Evelyn?”
“Might be. We had a little money. Our parents were not dirt-poor, but we went through some hard times too. There were just us two children, Mamie and me. She always wanted a big house like this one. She was stronger than me, more determined, but always genteel. She was something of a velvet steamroller. At times we had a hard life growing up so she wanted a better one. She may have regretted some parts of that early life. I think that’s one reason she pampered Wade. By the time Wade was born, they were rich and she stepped back from the business and financial affairs to focus on arts and poetry and her genealogy pursuits, and she focused on Wade, more so than her other children. They had a special bond between them…” She picked up her cup of tea. “I’m sorry, my dear, I got distracted. This isn’t helping you solve a murder. To be truthful, I was sitting in that room when you said a murderer was also sitting there, but I have trouble believing that. If it’s true, I can’t imagine who it is.”
“It is getting harder and harder to believe, and I don’t have much evidence,” April said. She rubbed her brow. “Mr. Woodruff said he would reveal secrets, the whole truth, as he put it, in his last interview. Do you have any idea what those secrets would be?”
She shook her head. “No. Frankly, I think everything is known about Melvin. I don’t think there are any surprises in store. I know he had that one regret, the Fordham Project. He wasn’t a man given to reflection, but once or twice through the years, I knew that pained him.”
“Was that one of the projects hatched around the kitchen table?” April said.
“Yes, that was the time four or five of them sat in Mel and Mamie’s kitchen to think of their next scheme. She was akin to the rudder of the ship; she kept them moving and didn’t let them run them aground.”
“Was Jed Markatt a part of the group?”
“Oh, yes, he was there. Jed never let compassion get in the way of making money.”’
“Would he run down someone with an automobile for money?” Clay said.
She grinned. “No one can look into another man’s or woman’s heart but Jed…probably. He’d have no moral objections to it. He’d might have pragmatic ones such as…could he get away with it.”
“I just wonder if there were some secrets, still hidden, that he didn’t want out.”
A harsh laugh was the reply. “I don’t know if Jed would care anymore.”
“Why was it called the Fordham Project?” April said.
“Fordham was the property appraiser who sent out the notices. The scheme picked up his name. He didn’t profit from it, although he thought he would. He died the next year. I forget of what.”
“Natural causes?”
“I believe so. Long time ago, but I think he suffered some serious medical problems and died.”
“Wonder if he knew any secrets.”
“If he did, they died with him.”
Tiffany Woodruff, Wade’s wife, sipped on an orange drink from a tall glass. She was in her second-floor room staring out into the storm.
“Of course I married hubby for his money. I certainly didn’t marry him for his looks or personality. You got a nice-looking hunk, but they were not available for all of us,” she said.
“Clay doesn’t have the money of a Wade Woodruff,” April said.
“In his case I might overlook it. I bet life with him is exciting.”
“It has its moments…more than its moments.”
“Wade knew I was not passionately in love with him. I watched an old Humphrey Bogart movie a few days ago. To Have and Have Not. It was the first film of Lauren Bacall. Bogie and Bacall…what a couple. Well, that was not Wade and me. We went into the marriage for different reasons. We knew love was not part of the bargain.”
April gave a sly smile. “Did you happen to profit from Mr. Woodruff’s death?”
Tiffany lifted her head and her laughter bounced off the walls. “I like you, sweetie. You’re a cheeky little thing. Your boyfriend likes strong women, doesn’t he?”
“He does.”
She lifted her glass toward April. “If I had, I would be your prime suspect, wouldn’t I? You’re right. I would not have minded knocking him off. I’ve had my fill of Woodruffs. Seen them coming and going for years. No, I didn’t profit from it. I get a very high allowance from Wade every month, plus extras, and I’ve accumulated a little bit of stock over the years. Don’t look shocked. I put in two years of college before I quit. I can read a stock report and I’ve read about two dozen of Shakespeare’s plays. A nice combination now that I think about.”
“So you do well in art and commerce,” April said.
Tiffany swallowed more of the orange drink. “Yes, and don’t forget it. I must admit I am getting a bit tired of chubby Wade and his mother obsession. To hear him talk, his mother was the finest woman on the eastern seaboard of the United States. I won’t bore you with his opinion of her. If so, I would have to talk the entire afternoon, Needless to say, she didn’t like me and I didn’t like her, but we stayed out of each other’s way. She was consoled by the knowledge her dear little boy was getting laid with semi-regularity and got to show off his wife at all the proper social settings.” She swallowed some of the orange liquor. “I also never had more than two drinks at art gallery openings or community theater events. But at times, I’ve wondered if the money is worth it. I have a prenup of course, but I think the wedding vows are beginning to fade. I’m still young enough to have a good life, and I have an attorney who thinks he has a good chance of breaking the prenup. I’m about ready to give him the chance.”
“You won’t miss the Woodruff family.”
“Not a bit. But Stephen and Mel junior have given me more than one long look. Maybe they will miss me.”
Tiffany Woodruff walked and talked with a sensuous allure, which could swamp young or old men. She was not the likeable, pretty girl next door. Nor was she merely a sexy, attractive woman. On a scale of one to ten, with sexy being seven, Tiffany rated double figures. April became determined not to allow Clay alone in the same room with her. Within six feet of her, a man would have his mind on only
one thing: snaking her out of that tight dress and tossing her on the nearest bed. She was a sexual storm as powerful in her own way as the hurricane raging outside.
“Do you know how much Wade will receive from his father’s will?”
“Not precisely but from hints Wade has dropped in intimate moments, I’m guessing about twenty-five million. I will have to check to see if the prenup covers that, but I think my lawyer can pry a few million for me.”
“You must have been thinking of a divorce for some time.”
“Ever since the day I said ‘I do.’ Momma Woodruff looked awfully distraught the day we married, but she was kind enough to die not too many years after. Frankly, Wade spent about as much time with her as he did with me, which was fine. It kept him out of my way. I took up scuba diving, not because I liked swimming underwater so much, but because I know Wade would not be accompanying me during the dives. The thought of swimming underwater made his stomach queasy. But with his physique he’s not much for beach sports, or any sports for that matter. Now your guy…”
“Likes baseball,” April said.
Tiffany’s lips curled into a smile, a savage and triumphant smile. It said “I could take him from you, honey, but I’m not going to try. I have other things…such as millions of dollars on my mind. It would be fun, but he’s not Tiffany bait, not now.”
“And I have no idea who killed the dirty old man.”
“Why did you call him a dirty old man?”
“Until a few years ago, when I was in the room his eyes followed me wherever I went. About three years after we married, he came over one day. Wade and I were at the pool and he never took his eyes off me. He was like a hound dog slobbering over a steak. It even made Wade uncomfortable. From then on, when his father came over, which was rare, Wade made sure I was not at the pool. I don’t think the missus, when she was alive, gave him much running room.”
She swallowed the last of the drink. “When I’m gone, I don’t think Wade will miss me much. He will be constructing that shrine to his mommy. He’ll have something to do with his time. And I certainly won’t miss him.”
A knock on the door distracted April. She opened it and a maid stood there with another drink for Tiffany. She walked in, took the empty glass, and walked out, closing the door as she left.
“I will say one thing for the Woodruffs, they have good maid service.” She sipped the liquor in her fresh drink. “Wade never liked his father and his father never liked Wade. But then, who did…well, dear old mother of course. But who else?”
9
The rain had stopped. Shards of light broke through the black clouds and spilled orange beams over the land.
Ten minutes later they went into Clay’s room. Both of them wore a solemn expression.
“After dinner, I suggest we get a glass of wine and retire up here. We have a lot to think about and a lot to talk about,” April said.
“I agree. We have a puzzle. I think a few pieces are fitting together, but we still have a few holes,” Clay said.
“I don’t know about you, but I was touched when told Sam Attlee cried at Mamie Woodruff’s funeral. That’s rather touching, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, maybe Wade should put a picture of Sam in the history room. Wade is dedicated to his mother. So was good old Sam.”
“Yes. Mel did have secrets, but I think we know the answer to two of the lethal secrets Melvin was going to reveal. The answers would have been surprising, and one person would want to keep them in the dark. On the down side, I don’t think we can prove our theory so we will have to get a confession.”
“Yes.”
“Which means we will have to run a very good bluff. A very good bluff indeed.”
“How are you at poker?” Clay said.
“I played strip poker a few times in college. I never lost my clothes. I got down to my Skivvies twice but never lost them.”
The next morning as April and Clay were about to knock on Wade Woodruff’s door, it was opened by his wife. She gave them a bright smile.
“Good morning. I just got the news we will be able to get out of this miserable place. A nice house, but I never liked it. It’s a bit suffocating. Evans told me the roads are being cleared. The police and an ambulance should be here within thirty minutes,” she said.
“That’s wonderful to hear. Is your husband in?” April said.
For a moment Tiffany gave her a shocked look. “Oh, him.” She pointed down the corridor. “He’s already in the little trophy room. Spends a lot of his time there. Go down and interrupt his morning. I’m heading for breakfast.”
The door to the history room was open. The two saw Wade staring at a picture of a British aristocrat. They strolled in and said good morning. He gave them a look of annoyance, akin to a stare a man would give a buzzing mosquito. We’re lucky there are no insect repellent spray cans around, April thought.
“I think I might install a large picture of my mother in this room when I move it to my house. She did so much for this community. It would be appropriate here,” Wade said.
There was a gracious, almost gentle, tone to Clay’s baritone voice. “You may not have the time,” he said.
“Why not?”
“The police will be here shortly and an ambulance to take the body of your father away. You should call a good attorney and have him come out too. Actually, Charlie Jones is one of the best defense lawyers in the state. Neville Smith is his partner. They own the firm amusingly called Smith and Jones, but both attorneys are first-rate. They have a statewide reputation. You couldn’t get better representation. They’re expensive but you have plenty of money. Give them a call,” Clay said.
“Why should I do that?”
Clay kept his gentle tone. “Because you killed your father.”
Wade jerked as if he had touched a low-current electric wire, then he blinked and turned his attention back to the painting.
“You are drunk,” he said.
“No, Clay is sober and in very sound mental health,” April said. She walked around and looked at the painting too. “Your father said he would reveal secrets in his last interview. The basic question of this case was, ‘What secrets would he reveal?’ The secrets he was talking about would have taken place decades ago. The last thirty years he had become a legitimate and respected businessman. Why was that secret worth killing for?”
“I am not interested in your speculations. An intruder killed my father.”
“You may be interested in this one. It would affect your museum here,” April said.
He slowly turned his head toward her. “What do you mean?”
“Your idea for the history room is to add a room for Mamie Woodruff. Correct?”
“Considering her huge contributions to this community, yes, such an addition would be entirely appropriate. Somebody should be the keeper of her flame. It’s a job a son should have.”
“True. It’s wonderful you’re so devoted to your mother, but there was one secret your father might have revealed which would have blackened your mother’s reputation. Don’t think anyone would have wanted to tour the history room after it became public.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you do. The black stain on the Woodruff reputation…or at least the blackest stain…has been the Fordham Project. Two dozen or so families lost their homes and fortunes due to some greedy men. With your father planning to make reparations, none of the Woodruff offspring could deny it. Even with his death, the criminality can’t be denied since he admitted it to his lawyer. The public pronouncement Mr. Gould will make, will admit guilt.”
Wade’s chubby features hardened as if the flesh became flint. His hard eyes stared straight ahead.
“One man committed suicide; others had their lives devastated and destroyed. They lived in poverty all of their lives when they should have had a degree of wealth.”
“That doesn’t concern me,” Wade said. “I’m sorry they suffered loss, but it has
no relevance today.”
“Yes, it does, due to your father. He was not quite as ruthless as some tales portray him. He regretted the Fordham Project all of his life. Before he died, he was going to try to make amends for what the band of greedy, heartless men did. A band of greedy men and one greedy woman.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes you do. Your mother treasured her reputation as a cultural sophisticate. She liked the prestige she had in the community, and she gloried in her view that she was the soft glove on her husband’s hand, that she modified his rough actions and humanized him. She needed that to live as much as she needed air. But it wasn’t true, was it? She was hard as nails during the early days of the Woodruff dynasty. Around your kitchen table where many of the decisions were made, she was tough and just as nasty as the men, wasn’t she?”
“No, that’s a lie! A filthy lie!” Wade yelled.
“The decades had buried the truth about her but, with her dead and him dying, Melvin Woodruff was going to reveal the truth. He had the reparations ready. He was going to tell me the whole truth about the Fordham Project in his last interview. He was going to reveal that there were debates about it, but that the one person around the kitchen table who definitely wanted to push ahead with it was his wife. Mamie won out because she was tough and ruthless as nails in a coffin. When a few men balked, including your father, she told them to push on, that those poor, honest people who owned those parcels of land didn’t matter. Even your father relented and backed the project to his eternal regret.”
“You’re a vile…”
Wade yelled and reached for her, jabbing his hands toward her face. Clay collared him, locking his right arm in a hammerlock. Wade yelled in pain.
“Calm down!” Clay told him.
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