Deception (13 page)

Simon had spared no expense. From the floating balcony cantilevered over the living-dining area, to the huge retractable skylight and soaring stone fireplace, the house was a perfect union of function, flow and formidable beauty.

“I’ve been in this house dozens of times,” Wally said’ “and each time I’m in awe.”

“Simon was never one to do things in a small way.”

Dan’s gaze came back to the fireplace. The fluffy white throw rug was still there, a gut-stirring reminder of another cold winter afternoon when he and Jill had lain naked in front of a roaring fire and made love well into the night.

“That’s the bottle we found.” Unaware of Dan’s momentary distraction, Wally nodded at a triangular-shaped teak bar opposite the fireplace. Behind it, three glass shelves held an impressive assortment of scotches, bourbons and after-dinner liquors. On the counter stood a half-filled bottle of Chivas Regal.

“Any prints on it?”

“Only Simon’s. Same with the glass.”

Dan opened the bottle of single malt and sniffed the contents.

“We tested it,” Wally said. “There was nothing in there but pure scotch. My guess is that Simon drank quite a bit of it before he left.”

“why do you say that?”

“There was liquor splashed on the bar top, next to the glass and on the rug-though it’s been cleaned up since then—suggesting that his coordination was less than perfect.”

“Was anything disturbed? Furniture toppled over?”

“if you mean, was there any sign of a struggle, the answer is no. The place was just as neat and clean as you see it now.”

Silently, Dan walked around the room, inspecting the thick tan carpet, the deep burgundy sofas, the baby grand, the fireplace that smelled of hickory wood. A set of heavy brass andirons stood on each side of the stone hearth. He picked one up and inspected it closely, turning it around several times, paying particular attention to the heavy base and the ball-tipped end. He did the same with the other, then directed his attention to the fireplace poker. Wally was right. Everything was scrupulously clean.

“Did Simon ever bring anyone here outside of the family?” Dan asked. “I know he loved to fish and hunt, but I don’t recall either Amanda or Jill sharing his passion.

“As far as I know, his brother and I were the only ones who came here on a regular basis, but I could be wrong. Simon didn’t always tell me when he was coming up.” He peered out the large window that overlooked a thick cluster of hemlock trees. “if I had known he was at the summer house that Sunday, I would have stopped by, and who knows? I might have been able to talk him into spending the night here.”

“Don’t blame yourself for Simon’s death, Wally. You’ll go crazy if you do. You weren’t his keeper.”

“I know, I know,” Wally grumbled.

With the constable at his side, Dan went through the rest of the house and gave it a quick but thorough inspection.

“We dusted the entire house,” Wally volunteered as Dan went from room to room. “We also checked the pool, the spa and the gazebo. Most of the prints there belonged to Simon. Others belonged to members of his family, Joshua, who has access to the house, the cleaning lady and myself.”

There was nothing here, Dan thought as he made his way down the broad staircase, no clues, no evidence, nothing that could substantiate Jill’s suspicions.

Wally and his men had come to the only conclusion they could have reached under the circumstances. If Jill hadn’t been so adamant in her beliefs, Dan would have accepted the accidental-death theory as readily as Wally had.

“Thanks, my friend,” Dan said as the two men got back into the Land Rover. “You were a great help.”

“No need to thank me. I’d reopen the case myself in a second if I could justify my action to my superiors.” Reaching behind him, Wally took hold of his seat belt and pulled it across his chest. “Let me know what you find out, will you?” he asked. “Because if someone really did kill Simon, nothing would please me more than to have the son of a bitch all to myself for just five minutes.”

Twelve

Dressed in navy leggings, a blue denim shirt and thick white socks gathered at the ankles, Jill stood in front of her pantry, debating what to have for dinner. With her lack of culinary skills, the choice was limited, and not terribly exciting-a can of soup or a bowl of cereal.

She was reaching for the Corn Flakes when the door bell rang, followed by Dan’s voice calling out her name.

“I thought I’d bring you up-to-date on the day’s events,” Dan said, walking in the moment she opened the door. “Maybe over dinner?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on. That little French bistro you and I discovered years ago is still there. Why don’t we see if the pot-au-feu is as good as it used to be?”

Being alone with Dan in a candlelit restaurant with romantic French music piping through the speakers was the last thing Jill wanted right now. “I’m too tired to go out.”

“Okay. We’ll eat here.” Before she could ask him what he meant by that, he had removed his jacket and thrown it on the back of a chair. “You won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“You’re going to cook?”

“Why the look of surprise? This is the nineties, you know. Men are no longer helpless in the kitchen. Especially unmarried men.”

She had often wondered why he hadn’t remarried, but didn’t ask. She didn’t want to give him the impression she cared. “I’m afraid you won’t find anything even remotely resembling a dinner in my refrigerator. I’m a big believer in takeout.”

“You’d be amazed at how resourceful I can be when properly motivated.” He made a big production of rolling up his sleeves. When he was done, he pointed to the refrigerator. “May I?”

She shrugged, watching him as he pulled the door open and inspected the contents of her white, side-by-side G.E. “Hmm, let’s see. We have a handful of mushrooms, not in the best condition but they’ll do, half an onion, a loaf of bread, butter and… What’s that?” he asked, lifting the corner of a foil-wrapped package and sniffing it.

“Anchovy pizza.” She fought hard to hold back a smile. “I’m not sure how long the poor thing’s been incarcerated.”

Holding the package at arm’s length, he handed it to her. “In that case, why don’t we put it out of its misery and see what we can do with what we’ve got.” He carried his meager selection to the kitchen counter. “You got any rice? Arborio preferably.”

She looked in a cabinet. “Will Uncle Ben do?”

“In a pinch.” Gently pushing her aside, he glanced inside the pantry. In no time at all, he had located a bottle of olive oil, a package of bouillon cubes and a can of Parmesan cheese. “How did it go in Richmond?”

“Great. The Maitland Group was impressed and we’re rehired.”

“Then we’ll make this a celebration dinner.” Glancing at the wine rack, he selected a bottle of Chateuneuf du Pape and handed it to her. “That used to be our favorite.”

“Really?” She tried to sound innocent. “I don’t remember.” Why was she lying? So she liked the same wine they used to drink. Big deal. “I thought you were supposed to tell me about your day.”

As he washed, chopped and sauteed, Dan told Jill about his visit with Lilly and his trip to Livingston Manor. “What can you tell me about Joshua?” he asked as he threw a handful of rice into the melted butter.

She frowned. “Why? You can’t possibly think of him as a suspect.”

“Sherlock Holmes once said that the quickest way to solve a crime was to eliminate the impossible until you were left with the improbable. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Then you can eliminate Joshua right away. He loved my father.”

“How long has he been working for your family?”

“Five years. He used to work for one of Uncle Cyrus’s friends. When Elliot died, Joshua found himself without a job. The state placed him in a-”

Dan turned around, a wooden spoon in his hand. “Hold it. Backtrack a little. Did you say the state?”

“Didn’t Wally tell you? Joshua is, oh, how can I put it? Mentally challenged.” So Dan wouldn’t get the wrong impression, she quickly added, “He’s also dependable, hardworking and loyal. His only family is an aunt who’s too old to take care of him, so the state had to put him in a halfway house. When my uncle heard about it, he took Joshua to meet my father. Daddy hired him on the spot.”

“And he let him live in his cabin?”

“It was nothing but a dilapidated shack at the time. My father bought what was needed to fix it up and let Joshua and a couple of handymen from the village do the rest.” She smiled. “You should see it now. It looks like a little Hansel and Gretel cottage.”

“Has he ever shown signs of violence?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Haven’t you heard a word I said? Joshua is harmless.” Reaching inside a cabinet, she took out two dishes and set them on the kitchen table with a bang. “And he’s certainly not violent.”

“I’m only trying to get a mental picture of the man, Jill, not crucify him,” Dan said.

“Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Serious again, he said’ “Maybe so, but your father wasn’t killed by a stranger, that much I’m sure of. Whoever went after him knew Simon was at the Catskills house that night. He waited for him, the way he waited for you on MacDougal Street.”

“And that’s another reason why Joshua couldn’t have done it. He’d never come to New York. All that noise and traffic would terrify him.”

She watched as Dan stirred a handful of Parmesan cheese into the rice mixture before transferring the contents of the pot into a serving dish. “And you can’t question him the way you would someone else. He’s very shy, you see, especially around strangers, and he still hasn’t recovered from my father’s death.”

“He talked to Wally, didn’t he?”

“That’s because he knows him. It would be different with you. He would be scared and I don’t want that.”

“Why don’t you come with me when I go up, then? For your peace of mind. And if I screw up, you have my permission to punish me, any way you like.” Glancing at her over his shoulder, he moved his eyebrows up and down a few times, Groucho Marx-style. “How’s that?”

“Better.”

“Good. Now let’s eat.”

Suddenly famished, she took the platter from him. “Mushroom ri sotto I’m impressed.”

“That was the idea.”

She knew that wasn’t true. For all his complexity, Dan was a simple man who never worried too much about what others thought of him. And he never tried to impress. Quite the contrary, he hated it when attention was focused on him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. From time to time, Jill darted quick glances at him, amazed at his easy confidence, at the way he filled the room, as if he had never left it.

She shook the disturbing thought away. “Tell me about your life as a professor,” she said. “Is it everything you thought it would be?”

“I’m only an associate professor,” he corrected. “But yes, it’s a very rewarding job. No two days are ever alike.” He glanced at her. “How did you know I was teaching?”

“My mother and your mother keep in touch. Is Glenwood a large college?”

“A small one, but with a large enough endowment to allow courses other schools don’t offer.”

Jill took another bite of her ri sotto which was excellent. His culinary talent was no surprise to her and his willingness to take over the duties of cook had certainly come in handy during their short marriage. Before she could stop it’ the memory of the day he had tried to teach her how to flip pancakes brought a smile to her lips. She had flipped a little too hard and had sent the pancake flying onto the floor.

“What’s so funny?”

She shook her head as if coming out of a dream. “What?”

“You were smiling just now.”

“Oh. No reason.” Jill took another bite of her food. “What exactly is applied criminal psychology?”

“Simply put?” He poured them both another glass of wine. “The study of the criminal mind.”

“Are all your students future cops?”

“No.” He laughed. “No one wants to be a cop anymore. My students are hoping to become criminal attorneys. This course will give them an advantage other attorneys don’t have.”

“You know, I wasn’t all that surprised to hear you’d become a teacher. You always had a knack for making people listen to you.”

His eyes filled with mirth. “Present company included?”

The remark lured another smile to her mouth. “I listened. Occasionally.”

She pushed a slice of mushroom around with her fork. The wine had mellowed her, making her feel relaxed, almost… happy. “You never remarried.”

It was more a statement than a question and she regretted it the moment the words were out of her mouth. Whatever had possessed her to say that? Besides a burning curiosity.

“Neither did you.” Dan’s eyes made a slow, searching inspection of her face. “How come?”

She shrugged. “Too busy with my career.”

“But there must have been… “Men?” She picked up her glass and studied the wine’s ruby color for a second or two. “There were a few.”

“Nothing serious I take it.” He said it almost too casually.

“Oh, don’t look so smug. And don’t think for one moment that I kept comparing those men to you only to find they didn’t measure up.”

He feigned innocence. “Why, Jill, the thought never crossed my mind. Seriously, why didn’t you remarry?”

She tore off a piece of bread from the slice on the edge of her plate and chewed it slowly. “To borrow a man’s favorite expression, maybe I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Or maybe,” he said, “you never gave marriage a chance.”

“Maybe.” How could she tel him that the day their marriage broke up, a little piece of her heart had broken along with it? That she had never wanted to fall in love again? “Your turn, Professor. Why didn’t you remarry?”

“That’s easy. I never found anyone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the way I’d hoped to do with you.”

Jill’s eyes widened in surprise. Brought up in a mostly male Italian family, Dan had always been fiercely protective of his feelings, as if exposing them would somehow make him less of a man. “if you felt that way, why didn’t you try to keep me?”

The bantering tone faded from his voice. “I did try to keep you. You weren’t interested.”