“Lieutenant,” Benjy said, “could I speak with you privately?”
“Certainly. Come with me.” Wesner led Benjy from the room. I caught Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce exchanging concerned looks. Neither of them appeared to know what Benjy intended to do. I couldn’t imagine, either, but he might have seen something important that could help solve the case.
The group waited uneasily. Wesner’s crime scene team arrived and asked us to remove to the lobby while they worked. The officer who had been watching us shepherded us out and remained with us. There wasn’t enough seating to go around, so Helen Louise and I, along with Diesel, found a spot against a wall and sat on the floor.
After a few minutes, Wesner came back, but without Benjy. He asked Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce to accompany him, and he took them back to the study he had used for questioning us before.
Slowly he worked his way through the group until Helen Louise and I were alone in the lobby with the police officer and Diesel. At least we finally had comfortable seats. Elmore and Burdine had been called right before us, and Wesner seemed to be taking a good bit of time with them. I wanted to discuss things with Helen Louise, but there would be time enough for that later. I was all too aware of the officer’s sharp eyes and ears fixed upon us. I wondered idly what was going through his mind as he kept watch. It wasn’t a job for which I would have the necessary patience.
Finally, at almost nine o’clock, Wesner sent for us. We both rose wearily and followed another officer down the hall to the study. Diesel chirped plaintively, and I told him we would be back in our room shortly.
Wesner gestured for us to take seats, and so we did. Diesel sat beside me, and I kept a hand on his head to soothe him.
“Before you ask,” Wesner said, “I’m afraid I have no further news on Mr. Ryan. I can tell you that his condition is critical, and it could go either way, the last I heard.”
“That’s horrible,” Helen Louise said, and I nodded. “We’ll continue to pray for him.”
“And that you catch whoever did this to him,” I said.
“You don’t subscribe to the theory that Mr. Ryan intended a public suicide?” Wesner asked.
“No, I certainly don’t,” I said.
“Miss Brady?” Wesner said.
“I don’t, either,” Helen Louise replied.
“Thank you,” Wesner said. “You must know Ryan pretty well then.”
“No, actually we don’t,” I said, all at once feeling uncomfortable. What was Wesner trying to do?
“He’s a smart young man enjoying his life and his career,” Helen Louise said. “I can’t think of a reason he would want to kill himself.”
“Even if he was a double murderer?” Wesner asked.
“Have you been able to prove that Zac is the killer?” I asked.
Wesner gave me a hard look. “What if I told you I have a suicide note in which he claims he killed both Denis Kilbride and Cora Apfel?”
THIRTY-ONE
“I don’t believe it.”
The words popped out of my mouth before I had time to consider what I was saying. A moment’s brief reflection, however, didn’t make me want to take back my words.
“How did you obtain this alleged suicide note?” Helen Louise said.
Wesner nodded approvingly. “Nicely phrased, Miss Brady. Young Mr. Stephens gave it to me. Said he found it when he and the chief deputy were working on Mr. Ryan. It was under his body when they turned him over.”
“Was it supposed to have fallen out of his pocket?” I asked. “Frankly, that’s hard to believe.”
“I agree,” Wesner said. “We’ll be testing the piece of paper, naturally, for fingerprints. We’re looking for examples of Mr. Ryan’s handwriting as well.”
“It was handwritten?” I asked.
Wesner nodded.
“I thought Zac’s generation typed everything on the computer and printed it out,” I said.
“If he recovers to the point when questioning is feasible, I intend to ask him about it,” Wesner said. “Chief Deputy Berry has remained at the hospital to monitor the situation, along with a couple of my officers.” He glanced at his notes. “Now, I’d like you both to think about what you were doing and where you were about ten minutes before Mr. Ryan collapsed, and then take me to the point when you realized he had fallen. Mr. Harris, you first, please.”
I cast my mind back and tried to work out a point roughly ten minutes before Zac collapsed. “We were all moving about the room, chatting briefly with one or more members of the group. People drifted. I believe I was talking with Helen Louise and Ellie maybe eight or ten minutes before Zac fell.” I paused. “We chatted for about five minutes, then I went over to talk to Celia, and Ellie came with me. I was still with them when I heard Elmore say ‘Excuse me’ to Melba. Right after that, I heard Zac fall. Diesel bolted, and I had his leash looped around my wrist. I had to follow him and try to calm him down. It wasn’t until I was sitting on the floor trying to coax Diesel out from under the sofa that I saw that Zac was on the floor.”
“Thank you.” Wesner jotted away on his notes for perhaps thirty seconds before he asked Helen Louise to take her turn.
“I was talking with Charlie and Ellie,” Helen Louise said, “until Charlie went to talk to Celia. I was surprised that Ellie went with him, leaving me standing there by myself, but she said she wanted to ask Celia something. Miss Dickce and Benjy were nearby, so I went over to talk to them. That’s where I was when I heard Elmore say ‘Excuse me’ to Melba, and then the fall. I had my back to them.”
“Mr. Harris, did you have your back to Mr. Gregory and Miss Gilley when he dropped his food on her lap?” Wesner asked.
“Yes, I did,” I said.
Wesner scribbled a bit more.
“So neither of you had Mr. Ryan in your line of vision right before he collapsed?” he said.
“No,” Helen Louise and I said in unison.
“No one seems to have been looking at him for several minutes before he collapsed to the floor,” Werner said musingly.
“Not even Kanesha—Chief Deputy Berry, I mean?” I said.
“I wasn’t including her,” Wesner said. “She gave me her evidence already, and I’ll compare it later with what everyone has told me.”
That sounded like evasion to me. He didn’t want to answer my question, and of course there was no reason he had to. This made me think, though, that Kanesha had seen something—or someone, rather. Had she seen who put the poison in Zac’s vermouth?
Vermouth, as I recalled, could have a dry, almost bitter taste. Or so it was in my own experience of it. I didn’t care for vermouth, except in a martini. Not a bad choice to disguise the potential taste of poison, though. The killer couldn’t have counted on that, surely, unless he or she was conversant with Zac’s tastes in liquor.
Wesner was watching me, and for a moment I had the odd feeling that he knew what I was thinking. Okay, let’s see if you’re prepared for this question. “Are there any usable fingerprints on the medicine bottle?”
“We’ll be comparing any prints found on the bottle to those we collected from your group already,” Wesner said. “Frankly I don’t expect to find any other than Kilbride’s, but I could be wrong. Surely this group knows about fingerprints.”
“Of course,” I said, slightly stung by the hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Do you have any other questions for us?” Helen Louise asked.
“Is there anything you haven’t told me before that you think I should know?” Wesner replied.
Helen Louise shook her head, but something did occur to me. “Burdine Gregory accused Zac of being the murderer that first day.”
“She did?” Wesner didn’t appear all that interested. Perhaps he had heard this already from another member of the group. “To his face?”
“No, after
he left the room,” I said.
Wesner nodded. “Right. Anything else?”
“No, not that I can think of.” I broke off. “Yes, there is one more thing.” I had to tell him, though it was more than a bit embarrassing. “Zac came to me yesterday, saying he wanted to work with me to solve the two murders. I agreed, reluctantly, though I was not planning to work on the murders in any formal sense. I know that’s your job.”
“Go on,” Wesner said.
“I suggested to Zac that he might work on a timetable of events based on his own movements and encounters with others of the group. He seemed enthusiastic about it, and he told me earlier today, I think it was, that he wanted to talk to me about it.” I shrugged. “Maybe he had figured something out, I don’t know. He was going to do it on his laptop, he said.”
Wesner finished jotting something down, then looked up. “Thank you, Mr. Harris. That is new information that might be helpful.”
“I’m glad to do anything to help,” I said.
“Right.” Wesner stood. “If there’s nothing else, we’re done here.”
“We’re going upstairs to our suite,” Helen Louise said firmly once we were out of the study. “I’m exhausted, and I’m sure you are, too, by now. Poor Diesel is probably starving. Do not let Miss An’gel or anyone else waylay us, all right?”
“Fine with me,” I said. The amuse-bouche I had managed to eat during the ill-fated gathering hadn’t done much to assuage my hunger. If we wanted anything to eat, we’d have to raid the minibar in our suite. The hotel restaurant was closed by now, and neither of us had the energy to go out in search of sustenance.
We made it upstairs to our suite without anyone appearing, and all three of us breathed sighs of relief once we were inside the room. I released Diesel from his harness and leash, and he bolted for the bathroom. Helen Louise and I collapsed on the sofa.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“I could eat,” Helen Louise replied. “But not if it means leaving this room.”
“No,” I said. “I was thinking the minibar. I’ll go look.” I pushed myself off the sofa and walked over to the console that housed the minibar. With the door open, I recited its contents to Helen Louise. This was not the average minibar, thankfully, because it included various cheeses, apples, pears, and bananas.
We decided to feast on the fruit and cheese, along with wine from Helen Louise’s purchases of the day. Diesel came back the moment he smelled the cheese and insisted on getting a bite or two. That was all I gave him because cheese could cause severe gastric distress in cats. Two small bites were enough to satisfy him, thankfully.
“I can’t stop thinking about Zac,” Helen Louise said. “Do you think he really confessed and then tried to commit suicide in front of all of us?”
“On one hand, I’d say that if he was the killer and knew the police were closing in, he’d probably choose to go out in dramatic style,” I said. “I don’t think he’d ever be one to go quietly, do you?”
“No,” Helen Louise said after a moment’s reflection. “But I don’t think he killed Denis and Cora.”
“I don’t, either,” I said, “but I’m darned if I know who did. Ellie is still the only person in the group who has a strong motive, with the possible exception of Johnny Ray.”
A knock at the door put an end to our deliberations. I was tempted to ignore the knock, but then the person knocked again and called out, “Charlie, are you in there?”
“Melba,” I said with a groan. “What on earth does she want at this time of night?”
“One way to find out,” Helen Louise said.
I went to the door and let Melba in. “This had better be important,” I told her.
Helen Louise greeted Melba and offered her wine. Melba shook her head. “No, thanks. I won’t take up much of your time.”
I resumed my seat on the sofa while Diesel moved his attentions from me and my cheese to Melba. She pulled a chair closer to the sofa. Diesel put his head on her knee, and she cooed to him for a moment and stroked his head.
“What’s up?” I asked.
Melba hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. “What do y’all think about Paul? Is the age difference a problem?”
“Age difference?” I said. “Is he that much older than you?”
Melba scowled. “Are you drunk? Don’t be an idiot. You know he’s younger than me.”
“Not by much, surely,” Helen Louise said. “I don’t see it as an issue.”
“Almost six years,” Melba said.
“Don’t be silly. What’s wrong with that?” I asked. “He really seems to like you, and it seems to me that you like him.”
Melba glared at me for a moment; then her expression softened. “Trust you to bring me back to earth.”
I grinned at her. “That’s what I’m here for. Seriously, though, forget about age.”
“Charlie’s right,” Helen Louise said. “If you two really care about each other, go for it.”
Melba all at once looked pensive. “I’d really like to, but there’s something I’m afraid of.”
“What on earth are you afraid of?” I asked her.
Her hands twisted in her lap, and Diesel meowed, sensing her sudden distress. She took a deep breath.
“I’m afraid that Paul was personally involved with Denis Kilbride.”
THIRTY-TWO
I almost spit out my cheese at Melba’s words. Hastily, I swallowed instead. As soon as I could, I said, “Why on earth would you think that?”
“Has he said anything to make you think this?” Helen Louise asked at the same time.
Melba stared at us for a moment, probably trying to sort out what we had each said to her. “No, he hasn’t exactly said anything to me directly. It’s more what he doesn’t say.”
“What do you mean?” Helen Louise said.
“Anytime I mentioned Denis’s name, he starts acting evasive,” Melba said. “You know me—I’m curious about these murders, and I’m wondering what Denis could have done to make somebody want to kill him. Paul worked with him on some of his finance deals, so I figured he might have picked up a few things along the way.”
“If he did, though, he doesn’t want to talk about it with you,” I said.
Melba nodded.
“Have you considered the fact that the details of Denis’s business with the bank are private, and Paul is ethically bound not to talk about them with you?” I said.
“Denis is dead, for Pete’s sake,” Melba said. “Why shouldn’t he tell me at least a little bit? It’s not like I’m asking for a full rundown on how much he borrowed and all that crap that I couldn’t care less about.”
“What is it you want to know, then?” Helen Louise said.
“Personal stuff that Paul might have picked up,” Melba said. “I know they went out to dinner sometimes, and Denis was a drinker. Maybe he was indiscreet and let something slip. He was that kind of guy.”
“Basically Paul is refusing to gossip with you about Denis, and you’re interpreting that to mean that he possibly had a physical or romantic relationship with Denis.” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but from the look Helen Louise shot me, I was pretty sure I failed.
“I’m sure Charlie is sorry that what he just said came out that way,” Helen Louise said.
Melba glared at me. “I doubt he’s sorry.”
“Blame the wine,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but, honestly, don’t you think it’s a bit of a stretch?”
“I understand how she feels,” Helen Louise said. “You’re at the stage in the relationship where you want to be able to confide in each other, and Paul is obviously holding back on you.”
“That’s it exactly,” Melba said.
“Oh,” I said.
Diesel warbled, and Melba stroked hi
s head. “You understand, don’t you, sweet boy?” The cat warbled again, and Melba shot me another look of irritation.
“I think Charlie might be right, however,” Helen Louise said. “Hear me out. Paul has struck me as a man who’s serious about his profession, and that includes ethical business practices. Paul may simply feel uncomfortable because he thinks you’re trying to get him to gossip about Denis’s business interests. Nothing to do with his personal life.”
Melba didn’t appear completely convinced. “I just don’t know.”
“You need to be more direct with him, then,” Helen Louise said. “Ask him point-blank if he had any association with Denis other than his professional one. You can judge by his reaction whether he has anything to hide.”
“I think you’re right.” Melba sounded decisive. “I’m going to do that right now. Thank you, Helen Louise.” She looked at me and sniffed. “Good night, Charlie.”
“Good night,” I replied.
Diesel accompanied Melba to the door, but as soon as she was gone, he came back to me, hoping for more cheese. By now, however, I had finished it. I showed him empty hands. He gave me a plaintive meow before he turned hopefully to Helen Louise. She, too, showed him empty hands, and with that, he had to be content.
“Not one of your shining moments,” Helen Louise said, her tone mild.
“No, I guess not,” I said, feeling chagrined. “I didn’t mean to offend her, but was I wrong in thinking she was blowing the situation out of proportion a teeny-tiny bit?”
“Probably not,” Helen Louise said. “I think the issue here is that Melba is really serious about Paul, more serious than I’ve seen her before about other men she’s dated. Maybe that scares her a little.”
“So she’s looking for an excuse to back off from Paul?” I asked.
Helen Louise shrugged. “Subconsciously, perhaps. It’s been a long time since she’s had a serious relationship.”
“I would be so happy for her to find someone worthy of her, who’ll treat her well,” I said.
Cat Me If You Can Page 20