Cold Case (24 page)

Frank looked at Barbara enquiringly, and she said, “Not much. Olga Maas is scared to death and will deny everything if pressed, but she gave me a box of stuff to bring home. She had a go at the material first and burned some things. So not much of interest may be left. Right back.” She went inside, helped herself to a glass of wine, returned and took the chair David had left. She told him about Bailey's call. “I'll have Shelley go down that list of party attendees and check each one for dope on who Aaronson really left with that night. Maybe Hulse-Cernick, maybe not. I want to know for sure.” She scowled. “This whole case is one god-awful mess. I keep reaching for things that turn into smoke in my hands.”

“It's early,” Frank said, but he shared her frustration. They had not been able to settle on a good place to dig in.

“I have to find the right approach to get Amy to tell what she knows about Aaronson. Maybe he sneaked in a squeeze, and it's no more than that, but maybe it's something else,” Barbara said.

And he had to find a way to get Lucy to tell him what was on her mind, Frank thought.

“Thumbscrews,” Barbara muttered. “The president would probably okay that.”

Interesting times, Frank thought, echoing David's words silently. He rose. “Time to get busy in the kitchen. We'll have dinner in the dining room. It's getting too cool these evenings for the porch.”

The days were shrinking, Barbara thought, alone on the porch, with November coming too quickly, and there was nowhere to start.
Remember,
she told herself sternly,
you don't have to do anything except instill a reasonable doubt.
Wise words, she knew, and insufficient words to still the doubt in her mind that she had enough ammunition to do even that much.

Darren and David returned, with David carrying the bag of balls, which he placed on the table. Darren went inside and returned with a tray holding two more cans of beer and the bottle of wine. “Todd's in there helping your dad,” he said. “Frank's teaching him to cook,” he told David.

“I wish someone had taught me,” David said. “I'm one of those open-a-can, or thaw-a-frozen-something kind of cooks.”

Barbara laughed. “I'm into thawing entrées and tossing a salad. You want more, you go fix it.” She eyed David closely and asked, “How is it working out at Shelley's house? I hope you're not getting bored.”

“No way. In fact, Alex and I are going to write a book, a graphic novel. His illustrations, my text.”

“Good God!” Barbara said. “Pure subversion, no doubt.”

David glanced at Darren. “Alex is a good artist,” he said.

Quickly Barbara said, “He knows who Alex is, but Todd doesn't. Not yet, anyway.”

“Subversive as hell,” David said with a grin. “Alex talked to his agent about it, and I talked to mine. They'll get together this coming week to work out the details of who gets to handle it. They both love the idea. I may be able to pay my debts, if they're anywhere near the mark on this one.”

“I don't suppose we get a clue about the subject,” Barbara said.

“You're right. Not a clue.”

“Oh, well. I'll buy the damn book. David, change of subject. Amy asks about you all the time, and she would really like to visit. Would you agree to that?”

He regarded her for a moment. “I don't want to put her at risk,” he said soberly. “I know someone's out to kill me and whoever it is might go after her if he thinks that's the next best thing.”

“Your reluctance is only because of a possible danger to her, not personal?”

“Exactly.” He looked out over the garden, the two lazy cats, the birdbath now abandoned by the birds and, as if addressing the vista, he said in a low voice, “I'm no good for her. She isn't a child, but she's very innocent in many ways, trusting, too trusting perhaps, and too transparent. She hasn't learned how to hide. I'm probably a polar opposite, too cynical, too pessimistic. It's infectious, that kind of pessimism. It would be criminal to see someone like her contaminated by it. It tends to change your outlook on life, on other people.”

“Maybe she's the one to decide such things,” Barbara said. “If I arrange something I think is safe, is it okay with you?”

His nod was a long time in coming.

Frank's dinner was pork tenderloin in crust, redolent with herbs and garlic, smooth mashed sweet potatoes, grilled zucchini and sweet red peppers, tomatoes with basil. He and Todd exchanged looks of satisfaction at the praise dinner received.

Todd's video was a smashing success, they all agreed after viewing it. He had measured the salinity of the water before and after the melting occurred, listed the species that would be affected, showed diagrams of how the Gulf Stream could be diverted and what it would mean to northern Europe, with coastal flooding.

“I'm very impressed,” David said sincerely. “First-class work. Congratulations.”

Later, in the car with Frank taking him back to Shelley's house, David said, “Now and then kids like Todd pop up here and there, and I feel some of my pessimism fading a little bit. Maybe there's still hope.”

“I know,” Frank said. “He gives us hope.”

O
n Friday Shelley said with evident relief, “I found her. The woman who can refute Aaronson's testimony.”

>
“Wonderful,” Barbara said, putting aside the new batch of discovery that had been delivered that day. “Tell me.”

>
“Her name is Christa Roznick Warner. Lives in Santa Barbara. The night of the party her date was asleep on the sofa and she got a ride to her apartment with Aaronson and a woman named Tiffany something. She doesn't know her last name. They left the party at midnight or a few minutes after.”

>
“Good girl! Will she give us a deposition?”

>
“Yes. I'll go down next Wednesday, be back late Thursday. Made my reservations, all set.”

>
“One down, or at least slowed down,” Barbara said. “That's the day I'm due to argue for the release of the police file. Lucky Wednesday. Let's hope. How's it going at your place?”

>
“Great. Those two guys are like a couple of little boys with a dirty secret. You should hear them laughing. Or one of them vanishes up in the woods or someplace, or just gets as still as a stone for a time. Then there's a flurry of talking or laughing. They won't tell me anything about it. Oh, and we're all set for tomorrow. Good weather, late-summer cookout time. David's been on the phone with Amy this week, by the way.”

>
“She must be floating,” Barbara commented. “If he brings her back down to earth, I hope it's not with a thud.”

>
“He's not easy to get to know,” Shelley said. “I mean, he can be really funny, but I always feel as if there's something else lurking behind the humor, something dark.”

>
After Shelley left, Barbara mulled over her comment, something dark lurking behind David's humor. That sarcastic streak, cynicism, pessimism, whatever it was, almost everyone seemed to sense it. He was a multilayered man who revealed no more than the surface, and that surface was what the jury would see. Would they react with the same unease that many others did, sense something dark lurking? She was very much afraid that regardless of any pretrial coaching, David, like Olga, would be what he was. It was too late to send him to charm school.

>
It was clear, however, that Alex trusted him, or he would not have revealed his own secret identity as the mysterious X whose cartoons skewered powerful people with deadly accuracy.

>
Barbara had given Amy directions to the house, and she arrived promptly at one o'clock, carrying two bottles of wine. “You told me to bring nothing, but that doesn't seem quite fair,” Amy said. Darren came from the bedroom, hair still moist from his shower, and after introductions, they were ready to go.

>
It was a good day, she thought later, perfect weather, a hike in the woods, during which she had noticed that Darren kept a close eye on David for a while, then stopped being a therapist, satisfied apparently. He and David had vanished for a short time for the weekly evaluation, and had reappeared looking pleased. Good omens, she kept thinking. After a quick intake of breath, Amy had accepted Alex's grotesque appearance exactly the same way the others did. Barbara had told her about his birth defect, but no one was ever truly prepared. And if Alex or Dr. Minnick thought it strange that the sister of a murder victim was joining a group that included the accused killer, that had not been apparent.

>
Sitting on the back terrace after their hike, Amy talked about the new project her company had undertaken—a green complex with a medical center, some retail shops, a grocery store and a cluster of houses. She and a partner were in charge of designing the individual houses, to be as energy efficient as modern technology could provide. She appeared excited by the new task.

>
As they chatted, David was holding one of the balls Darren had given him the previous week. Suddenly the ball made a squeaking noise. David looked startled and Darren smiled broadly.

>
“I'll be damned,” David said. “It worked!”

>
“You worked,” Darren said. “Good job. Stick with that one for a while before you move on to the next. Make sure it works every time.”

>
The squeak punctuated the conversation for the next few minutes until they were all laughing. Then David put the yellow ball aside, went into the house and came back with a blue one. It didn't make a sound.

>
Amy picked up the yellow ball and asked David, “May I keep this? A memento of today.”

>
That afternoon Frank took a plastic bag with iris rhizomes and his cooler out to the car and drove to Lucy McCrutchen's house. She met him at the door with a smile.

>
“What is all that?” she said, pointing to the cooler.

>
“A surprise for later. Now it's planting time.”

>
She had the spot picked out, and stood aside as he dug the rich soil and planted the irises, then watered them in.

>
“They should do well in that spot,” he said. “What color are those?” He pointed to adjacent irises.

>
“A lovely monochrome periwinkle-blue. That will make a nice combination.”

>
He nodded. It would. As he started to move away from the flowers, he happened to glance at the hedge and saw Henry Elders. He quickly vanished.

>
Lucy evidently had not seen him, and Frank made no mention of it as they walked back to the house and he went in to wash his hands. Lucy had prepared another tray with wine and snacks. He carried it out to the deck.

>
“The weather will change so soon,” she said with regret. “We always liked sitting out here at this time of day. I miss it when the rains start.”

>
“We always liked this time, too,” Frank said.

>
“It doesn't go away, does it?” she said softly. “You still miss her.”

>
“For some of us, I don't think it goes away,” he said after a moment.

>
They were both silent for a time, then she said in the same low voice, “Frank, I think we could be friends, and I'd like that, but you should know I'm not looking for someone else.”

>
“Neither am I,” he said, just as softly. “Friendship is a precious gift, one to be treasured.”

>
They both lifted their wineglasses, and while they didn't touch them together, they signaled a message given and accepted.

>
“When the sun dips behind that golden chain tree,” Lucy said, motioning toward the western sky, “it gets chilly out here this time of year. Time to go inside. And then you have to tell me what's in that mysterious cooler.”

>
“Deal,” he said, eyeing the tree. “Ten minutes? Not much longer than that.”

>
She looked at her watch. “I'll time it.” She glanced at him. “Barbara asked if Nick Aaronson spoke to me before he left the party that night, or if David did. I've been thinking back to it, and I'm sure Nick did. I just thought it likely before, but I'm sure. I was in the living room, and I remembered that Nick hadn't been drenched in sweat from dancing like the rest of the kids. I'm certain that David didn't come in.”

>
“Did you notice the time?” Frank asked.

>
“Not particularly, but they were still dancing, the stereo was still loud. Henry came in when they turned off the stereo, and Nick had already gone. I remembered noticing the difference, how cool Nick had seemed, and how hot Henry was.”

>
“Good,” Frank said. “Thanks. If it becomes important, will you testify to it?”

>
She nodded. “If it's important.”

>
“Thinking about that night, can you recall the early events, when people arrived, who was opening the door, things like that?”

>
“Some of it,” she said. “They started arriving at about six-thirty. Robert agreed to be the doorman and I didn't pay much attention to who was coming or when. I had put food out on the dining-room table, and most of them began to help themselves. There were hamburgers and sausages to grill, and we left it up to them to tend to the grill if that's what they wanted. Mac, Henry and I made up our plates and came out here, out of the way, to eat our dinners. A lot of the young people were on the deck, milling about, finding chairs and so on. At some point Henry fixed a plate to take home to Harriet. His wife. He came back when they turned on the stereo and started to dance. At about eight, I think.”

>
“Tell me something about Mrs. Elders,” Frank said. “How ill was she?”

>
“It was bad. When we first came, she seemed relatively well with mild symptoms of ichthyosis, not disabling or disfiguring, but it progressed year by year, until she never left the house except for medical appointments. Other things were wrong with her—diabetes, hypertension, a glandular problem. She had gained a great deal of weight and she had no tolerance for heat and couldn't expose herself to sunshine. Her skin itched unbearably and movement had become painful. She often used a walker, she was so unsteady in her gait. Eventually she needed a wheelchair. They had to have central air-conditioning installed, and afterward she kept the house extremely cool, too cool for anyone else, I suspect.”

>
“That poor woman,” Frank said. “Her life must have been a torment for her.”

>
“It was. I felt so sorry for them both. I think everyone was relieved when she had a stroke and died within a day.”

>
They both became silent for a time and watched as the sun dropped below the tree. “Eight minutes,” she said, and they went inside.

>
He opened the cooler and began emptying it. “A few tomatoes,” he said. “A cold roasted chicken, potato salad, green salad, tomatoes stuffed with shrimp and mushrooms that I'd like to pop in the microwave for a minute. I can't entice you to go out to dinner with me, so dinner has come to you.”

>
She laughed. “A picnic! I was planning to eat leftovers. This looks a lot better. Thank you.”

>
Frank had been gone only a few minutes when Amy got home that night. She looked in at Lucy in the family room, said good-night and went upstairs. Sitting at her desk, she took the yellow ball from her bag and held it. Foam, as soft as a marshmallow, her slightest pressure caused it to make the squeaking noise. A small child could have done it. She felt tears well in her eyes and closed them. She wanted to find whoever had done that to David and kill him.

>
There had to be something she could do. She knew her testimony about what she had overheard was not enough. Jill's words had been too ambiguous and she had been so young, who would believe her? Remembering what her mother had said, that it would not be hard to prove that Jill had been gay, she was afraid that her own statement, believed or not, would be irrelevant.

>
There had to be a way the pictures could help. She saw again her mother's anguish and her fear that Robert had gone out after Jill. And maybe he had. He had been a blackmailer. Where would he have drawn the line? A feeling of dread verging on horror accompanied the thought that she didn't know if her brother could have committed murder.

>
She wanted more than anything to talk it over with her mother, to confide in her, get her opinion, her advice. For the first time in her life she couldn't do that.

>
“The only thing I've found that's even mildly interesting is the fact that no one seems to know who tipped off the police that David had given his key to Jill Storey,” Barbara told Frank on Sunday. Darren had gone to pick up Todd at his mother's house, and afterward they had some more school shopping to do. They would be along later. She and Frank were on his back porch.

>
He told her about his visit with Lucy. “She's prepared to say that Aaronson left while there was still dancing going on.”

>
“And McNulty will tear into her,” Barbara said. “Why would she remember the order of guests leaving after so many years? On the other hand Nick Aaronson had an excellent reason to recall a bloody hand, a bloody face. He was alarmed enough to collect his date and another woman and get out of there. That, backed by Chloe's version, and Elders's claim that David was possessive and had monopolized Jill all evening will seem conclusive even without several people who remember that David and Jill had been inseparable during high school.”

>
They were both silent until Barbara said, “I have a bad feeling about this, Dad. I know, I always get anxious before a trial, but this is different. McNulty can make a case and I can't refute it. I have Amy's story, a kid who had a crush on David, and still does. He'll back it, of course, but that means very little. And Lucy's testimony will be easy to discredit as a faulty memory of an insignificant event from twenty-two years ago. The same goes for the woman Aaronson gave a ride to that night along with Tiffany someone. Did they leave before or after the fight on the deck? Who can say? As for Belinda Hulse, now deceased, Aaronson was thinking of a different party, different night. Or he can simply stick to the story that he took Hulse home. He said/she said. I can muddy the water a little, but that's all I can do. Also, I'm worried about David's taking the stand. I'm afraid of how the jury will react to him. One or two get turned-off, there it all goes.”

>
Although Frank had his own dark misgivings about how the case was shaping up, he did not voice them, not with Barbara as gloomy as she was. He told her instead what he had learned about Henry Elders's dead wife. “Now he keeps an eye on Lucy like a lovesick boy.”