From Here to Paternity (16 page)

There were also a great many middle-aged spinsters and bachelors living with elderly parents, sometimes several in a family. It was hard to realize that marriage hadn't always been the norm. A man who couldn't support a family simply didn't marry. And a woman who never got a proposal had no alternative but to stay at home forever. Jane found herself studying these long-dead families and imagining their lives. It was surprising how much you could tell about a different way of life just from names, ages, and the other seemingly impersonal data on the forms. On one sheet, depicting a New York neighborhood at the turn of the century, not a single adult listed his or her place of birth as anywhere in the United States. On a single street there were Rileys, O'Callahans, Kolenskis, Kleinschmids, McSheas, Pfeiffers, and Joneses. What a rich jumble of languages one must have heard spoken along the sidewalks there!

After a bit, Jane folded up the census reports and put them in a pile, then began looking over the rest of the contents of the file. There were a lot of newspaper clippings, some originals protected in plastic sleeves, some photocopies. Most had to do with the Romanovs. One very old one was a small official portrait of Tsar Nicholas and a cousin Sergei not long before the Tsar had abdicated, according to the text of the article, which was from a London newspaper. Perhaps this man was the father of the Gregor Roman that Doris had followed. There was a much larger duplicate of this picture in the folder as well. It was also much clearer—apparently a copy of the actual photograph. On the back was a handwritten notation of where and when the photo had been taken, and the name of a person in Holnagrad. Presumably this was who had supplied it to Doris.

Jane set the clippings on the pile as well. All the rest of the material was handwritten and typed notes. Many of these had to do with Gregory Smith of Colorado. One sheet, a handwritten one, was a sort of chart. It was labeled "Sheepshead Bay Court Records", with a long film number and three columns. Two names were starred with a red pen:

What on earth was this all about? Jane wondered. Were all these people somehow connected with Gregory Smith? At least in Doris's mind they must have been. The references must have to do with documents, but what kind of documents? The list would surely mean something to somebody who knew how to translate it.

Satisfied that she'd tidied up the file, Jane slipped everything back into the folder and put it on the counter between the kitchen and the dining area. She must remember to give it to Lucky so that it could go to someone to whom it would mean something. She poured herself a cup of coffee, took it back to the living room, and stretched out on one of the sofas to skim through her new copy of
I, HawkHunter
.

That was where Shelley found her an hour later, sound asleep with the book over her face like a tent.

"Jane, wake up. The sheriff wants to talk to you," Shelley hissed.

Jane sat up, angry with herself for falling asleep and feeling so fuddled. "Give me a minute to slap myself awake," she said, tearing toward the bathroom, where she slapped some cold water on her face and brushed her teeth fiercely, thinking at least her gums and cheeks would be awake and they were both fairly close to her brain.

As it turned out, she didn't need any special wits for this interview. The sheriff asked her the same things he'd already asked before. Did she know Doris or Bill before coming here? Was she a member of the group that was meeting here? Why did she go to Mrs. Schmidtheiser's cabin? Why did she head toward the snowman? This was a new one and it made Jane laugh, which the sheriff clearly found a distasteful reaction. "I wasn't 'heading' for anything! It was the first time I ever skied and I had absolutely no control over where I ended up! Do you really imagine I'd have risked running into a tree or something by heading for the woods?"

"I couldn't say. I just couldn't say, ma'am. But it sure is odd that there's two bodies and somebody who says she never knew the people before found both of them, don't you think?"

This was at least the third time he'd made this observation. The first time it had surprised her, the second time it irritated her, but this time—in her own temporary "home" and with her daughter in the next room—it made her furious.

"Are you making an accusation?" she said coldly.

"No, ma'am. Nosiree. Just sayin' as how it's odd."

She stood up and walked to the door of the cabin. "It was unpleasant and unfortunate. And I find this conversation to be even more so. I've told you everything I know. And I've told it to you several times. If you have in mind asking me the same questions again, you'll have to ask them of my lawyer. Frankly, I'm tired of this. Get out of here."

"Now, don't go gettin' all riled up—"

"Get out!"

He put his hands up. "Okay, okay, I'm going." He backed out the door, making vaguely apologetic noises, but Jane cut them off by slamming the door as soon as he was outside. She leaned back against it, shaking.

Shelley looked at her admiringly. "Wow! I've never seen you do anything like that. I'm really impressed!"

"You're rubbing off on me, I guess. That ignorant, nasty-minded hick! How dare he—"

"Now calm down. He's gone."

A few minutes and a restorative cup of coffee and cigarette later, Shelley ventured to reopen the subject. "You see what this means, don't you?"

"I have no idea," Jane said.

"Look, the people here are bright and much more sophisticated than they like to let on. They wouldn't have anybody as sheriff who really is as much of a rube as he acts like. So he must be smarter than he seems."

"He'd have to be!"

"And if he has the wits to stay sheriff, he must know you're telling the truth."

"Rave on," Jane said. "So why is he bothering with me?"

"Because he's at a dead end."

"Are you suggesting that I should be encouraged by this?"

"Not encouraged, but it does mean there isn't any evidence that we don't know about that's helping him any. So we are just as well equipped to figure this out as he is."

"And just as motivated," Jane added sourly.

"Okay, so we can assume that either both deaths have to do with the whole Tsar/Holnagrad thing or they don't."

"That's a big help."

"Jane, it gives us a structure for analyzing what we know."

"If you say so."

"All right. Let's assume first that it does have to do with the Tsar business. Which certainly seems likely, since one death was the person promoting Bill Smith as the heir, and the other death was Bill himself."

"Okay, I see where you're going now," Jane said. "Who are the people involved in any way? Pro or con?"

"Right. There are the two victims, of course. There's Pete, and we've already talked about him pretty thoroughly. There's Stu Gortner, who is really the one with the greatest motivation to get rid of the competition for his candidate."

"Wait—go back to Pete. What would this fight he got into with HawkHunter have to do with it?"

"Hold it, Jane. Don't sidetrack me yet. We're just laying out the groundwork for how we're going to think about this."

"So we're thinking about how we're going to think? You wouldn't like to offer to run a couple states and several major corporations in your spare time, would you?"

Shelley ignored that remark. "So—we have Bill, Doris, Pete, and Stu as interested parties. Now we have to add Joanna. Don't make faces like that. Joanna's very much a concerned party. Suppose Doris had made some kind of grand announcement to the press about Bill being the rightful Tsar. On Bill's behalf as well as her own, that would have a real impact on her life."

"Okay, I'll give you that."

"We've also got to consider Lucky. He's the president of the Society and had both Doris and Stu trying to get him on their sides. Maybe he is quietly involved with one or the other of them."

"But that could be true of practically anyone in the Society."

"Yes, but the rest of them don't appear to have much of anything at stake. Stu sees his candidate as his way to fame and fortune. Same with Pete. Doris saw it as a private coup. Even Lucky, who seems to care deeply about the Society, may feel that the group itself could either triumph or dissolve in the publicity a 'new Tsar' would generate."

"I notice you're not mentioning Tenny."

"No. Except that Tenny didn't want her uncle bothered with it, I can't see a motive for her. Even if she did have a motive to knock off Doris to protect Bill, she'd hardly hurt Bill. So there are the suspects
if
it has to do with the Holnagrad Society."

"What else could it logically have to do with?"

"The sale of the resort, for one thing."

"You suspect Paul!"

"Jane, quit being silly."

"I'm sorry."

"Since the two deaths occurred so close together and right now, I think we have to assume that something in particular precipitated them. Nobody around here is a drooling maniac, so you have an otherwise normal person who has to do something terrible immediately for some reason."

"To keep the sale from going through, maybe," Jane said, nodding. "Or to make sure it does go through. The great problem is Doris. I can't imagine that there's any way that Doris's death would make the slightest difference either way."

"Unless Doris's death was suicide."

"Come on!"

"I know it seems absurd, but it is possible. Jane, we don't know anything whatsoever of her background. For all we know, she could have lived half her life in mental institutions. It's not likely, but it could be that the humiliation of that debate drove her over the edge. On the other hand, we know absolutely that Bill's death was a murder. So let's deal with him for a minute. A handful of people had a stake in the sale of the resort. Joanna again—Bill's death allows her to avoid Florida."

"It also makes her a widow."

Shelley shrugged. "Maybe she wanted to be a widow. A rich widow. Just because she crochets the ugliest afghans west of the Piedmont doesn't mean she might not have simply snapped and said to herself, "I can't stand another day with this man!" Wives have felt that way before. And Pete has any number of possible motives here, too. Bill and Joanna have no children. He and Tenny are their logical heirs. That makes them both suspects."

"But Joanna's still alive. And she's sure to inherit everything."

"According to Tenny, I remind you. Even if she does inherit everything, either Pete or Tenny might have thought they could put something over on her that they couldn't put over on Bill, who could apparently hang onto his money extraordinarily well."

"Are we still just thinking about thinking, or may I speculate?"

"Not yet. If the sale of the resort is the reason for Bill's death, we also have to consider HawkHunter."

"Oh, good. I like him as a suspect."

"Jane!"

"I didn't mean that quite as smart-alecky as it sounded. Sorry. But he is the sort of person who thrives on rousing people's emotions. A catalyst type. Maybe not directly responsible, but the person who makes other people act. Like goading Pete into punching him. Maybe he goaded Pete into killing his uncle. Think about him for a minute while I refill our coffee."

"No more for me, thanks."

When Jane got back, Shelley was deep in thought. "I don't know about HawkHunter. I see what you mean about goading people, but what about a motive of his own?"

"He's a fanatic," Jane said.

"But lots of people are fanatics about one thing or another. That doesn't make them murderers."

"What I meant is, this sale touched on his fanaticism. The tribal graves up on the hill. He could have really believed that the graves were safe from desecration only as long as Bill owned the land, because Bill respected the tribe—oops. I just proved he wouldn't murder Bill, didn't I? No, let me think. Bill was set on selling the land. Maybe HawkHunter learned from Joanna's friends in the tribe that she probably wouldn't want to sell out and leave if Bill died first. How's that?"

Shelley shook her head. "It's still just a matter of time. Joanna won't live forever. Someday the land will be sold. If not now, then later."

"But it might have been time he needed. Maybe he felt that if he only had another six months or whatever, he could prove the graves were up there. Or prove there was something illegal about the original land grant."

Shelley nodded, but without enthusiasm. "I guess that's possible."

The phone rang. "Hi, Mel," Jane said after she'd answered it.

"Are we going to dinner and the big dance? Or is it canceled because of Bill's death?"

"Oh, I'm sure Joanna has insisted that it
not
be canceled. Have you managed to learn anything more?"

"A few useless bits and pieces. We'll talk about it at dinner, okay? Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?"

"Sure," she said, glancing in a nearby mirror at her nap-crumpled hair and thinking,
No way
!

"Say, Janey, I hate to mention this, but I'm starting to wonder if this thin air is doing something to Mike's brain. When he came in this afternoon, he suddenly burst into laughter for no reason at all, then wouldn't explain it."

"What were you doing when he came in?" Jane asked, suspicious.

"Just looking around on the floor of the closet for a missing sock. Why?"

"You weren't humming anything, were you?" She giggled. "Never mind. I'll explain later."

She hung up. "Shelley, talk fast. Mel's on his way over. Girls!" she yelled down the hallway. "We're leaving in a few minutes. Get ready."

"Okay," Shelley said, garnering up cups and saucers and setting them in the sink. "The third possibility, which I mention only for form's sake, is that the death or deaths have nothing to do with anything we know about."

"A ripe field of inquiry," Jane said. "Are we finally through getting ready to think?"

"I believe so."

"So when do we do the real thinking?"

"Oh," Shelley said airily, "we'll let our collective subconscious work on that while we eat dinner. First dibs on the bathroom."