Murder in the Air (3 page)

Merry paused, then said, “Of course not, but it’s odd that you happened to be on the scene. Almost as though you’re drawn to dead bodies, or they’re drawn to you.”

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate your support,” she said dryly, and Meredith quickly apologized.

Relieved, Lydia sent her love to Jeff, Brittany, and little Greta, and ended the conversation. Merry seemed happier these last few months, now that she was back teaching school. Lydia was delighted Merry and Jeff had agreed to let her pay half of their new nanny’s wages. Kirsten was a bright, energetic young woman who added a dimension to her charges’ lives. These days, whatever time Lydia spent with her granddaughters were special occasions instead of a baby-sitting chore.

*

The autopsy on the remains showed that the boy had been between fourteen and sixteen years of age when he’d died, and he’d been dead for seventy-five years. But a week later, his identity still remained a mystery. Driving home from Carrington House, Lydia found herself wondering who he was. Had he lived in the house? In the neighborhood? Why hadn’t anyone reported his disappearance? But even if they had, who would have considered investigating root cellars?

Still musing over her unanswered questions, Lydia drove into the garage and stepped out of her car. She was about to press the button that shut the automatic door, when someone called her name. She turned to find Daniel Korman, who lived across the street, standing in the entrance.

“Daniel, I didn’t see you! My God, I almost closed the garage door on you!”

Daniel chuckled. “You can’t imagine I’m too decrepit to move out of the way. You’re speaking to last summer’s winner of the over-seventy-five singles’ tennis tournament.”

“So I’ve been told.” Lydia nodded approvingly at his erect six-foot frame. “Not to mention, you’re the most handsome eighty-five-year-old I know.”

“Much appreciated, my dear, though my birthday’s not till Tuesday.”

“We’re all looking forward to celebrating with you tomorrow night. Evelyn stopped by before to go over some last-minute details. You’re going to have the best party Carrington House has to offer. You’ve my word on that.”

“Thanks, Lydia. I appreciate your special efforts on our behalf.” Daniel’s smile wreathed his face. He was handsome, with his strong chin, classical nose, and high forehead. And a full head of white hair. “I’m not one for a big fuss and dressing up, but Evelyn’s insisted on the works to celebrate my birthday. And who am I to say no? She’s the light of my life.”

“You picked one terrific lady,” Lydia agreed. “Evelyn has more energy than most women half her age.”

“I don’t know how I managed to live eighty-five years without her,” he murmured, retrieving two candies wrapped in gold foil from his shirt pocket. Daniel’s other passion—Bertran’s Best—was probably the most expensive Belgian chocolate on the market.

He extended his hand. Lydia smiled and shook her head. Daniel unwrapped both dark chocolates and popped them into his mouth.

She was about to make a wisecrack about finding romantic love in one’s golden years, but refrained. Despite his joviality a minute ago, Daniel’s expression had turned somber. His shoulders slumped as though weighed down by unseen burdens.

“Is something wrong, Daniel?”

He shrugged. “Could be. If you don’t mind, I’d like to run something by you—get your input, so to speak.”

His manner set off warning bells in her head. “Sure. Come inside and we’ll talk about it.”

He refused her offer of coffee with a quick shake of his head. The gesture struck her as decisive rather than rude. It reminded her that, until a few years ago, Daniel had been a powerful corporate wheeler-dealer. He’d taken over several companies on the verge of bankruptcy, and breathed life into them via bold innovations. She managed not to trip over a hungry Reggie weaving in and out of her legs, and led Daniel into the living room.

“Have a seat. I’ll be with you as soon as I feed the feline.”

A minute later, she perched on the sofa opposite him and offered her full attention. “What is it, Daniel?”

He studied her for a minute as though wondering how she might receive his words, then cleared his throat.

“All my working life I’ve made important decisions, decisions affecting hundreds if not thousands of employees. But this is something else entirely.” He frowned. “Normally I’d discuss it with Evelyn, but she’s up to her ears in plans for my birthday festivities. Since my son, Arnold, and his crew are staying over, she insists on hosting a Sunday brunch at our place.”

Seconds passed. Lydia pressed her lips together to keep from urging him to continue. Daniel would divulge what he had to say in his own good time. When she could bear it no longer and opened her mouth to encourage him, he asked, “What would you do if you learned that a crime you suspected of occurring many years ago actually had taken place? And that you knew who’d committed this crime, but had no way of proving it.”

Lydia immediately thought of the dead body discovered ten days before. Surely Daniel wasn’t referring to that! It was too preposterous. The corpse had been found behind Twin Lakes.

“I’m not sure what action I’d take,” she answered as calmly as she could manage. “It would depend on the severity of the crime. How certain I was of the person’s guilt.”

“A friend of mine disappeared, Lydia. Now I’m sure he was murdered.”

“Are you talking about the body the excavators unearthed? Was that your friend?”

Instead of answering, he stared at her intently. “I’ve no proof, but now it all adds up. The question is, do I let sleeping dogs lie after all these years, or do I make the guilty pay for the crime?”

The guilty. “Are you saying there’s more than one person responsible? I think you should tell the police.”

“Tell them what exactly? They investigated years ago and came up with zilch.”

“But these days the police have DNA and other tests they can use.”

“It’s too late for tests,” he said, then added more softly, “And Evelyn invited them to my party.”

Lydia stared at him. “You still talk to them?”

Daniel stood and patted her hand to soften his dismissal. “My dear, I’m not sure of what I’m saying. You’ve been very kind, letting an old man ramble on.”

“But Daniel,” she protested. “If this has something to do with the body they found, you need to tell the police what you know.”

He kissed her cheek “I’ll take what you say under advisement. Meanwhile, I trust I can count on your discretion not to breathe a word of this to anyone, including your friend, Lieutenant Molina.”

Dumbly she nodded, feeling she’d been sworn to a lawyer-client or doctor-patient oath of silence, and walked him to the door.

*

Daniel’s birthday party was called for seven o’clock. Lydia slipped into the simple black designer dress she knew did wonders for her figure and scrutinized herself in the mirror. Her light brown hair had been cut and blown that afternoon so it framed her face, making her look years younger. It was a pity Sol Molina couldn’t see her now. Even more of a pity that he wasn’t her date for the evening. Actually, she’d considered asking him to be her escort, then immediately squelched the idea. Not only was it a bad move—such an invitation would probably send him fleeing for his life—but he’d feel ill-at-ease mingling with Twin Lakes residents, all of whom were bound to ask a barrage of questions regarding the unidentified body.

She finished applying her lipstick and shook her head. She wouldn’t waste time speculating about Sol Molina. Either he’d call when the case was over or he wouldn’t.

As she lined her eyelids, she ruminated about what Daniel had told her. Clearly, he was disturbed by what he considered to be proof that someone had been murdered. Lydia had assumed this involved the recently discovered body, but now she was no longer sure. Just as Daniel couldn’t decide whether or not to take his suspicions to the authorities. When she’d run into him and Evelyn earlier in the day, he’d greeted her warmly then whisked Evelyn away. She’d heard Evelyn chiding him for being rude and asking where they were off to in such a hurry.

Lydia didn’t hold Daniel’s behavior against him. He probably regretted having shared what he’d told her, and didn’t want to risk her asking questions. At any rate, he was entitled to enjoy his birthday party without worry. She’d wait a few days then bring up the subject with him in private.

Caroline and Benny came for her at a quarter to seven. She greeted them and her closest Twin Lakes friend, Barbara Taylor, already ensconced in the rear seat of the Liebermans’ car.

“Don’t you look stunning!” Benny commented.

“Well, thank you,” Lydia said.

Slowly, Benny backed out of the driveway. “Lucky me, escorting the three loveliest ladies to Daniel’s party.”

“Watch that car speeding toward us!” his wife warned, “or none of us will get there in one piece.”

“Yes, dear,” Benny answered.

Caroline, a tall, lanky brunette whose tan and wrinkled face attested to her many years of playing golf, bent over to kiss his cheek. “There’s only one woman you’re escorting, and that’s me.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t worry about us, Benny,” Barbara teased. “Lydia and I are sure to hook up with some good-looking friends of Daniel’s before the evening’s over.” Petite and slender, and a widow like Lydia, she appeared to be many years younger than a woman approaching the Age of Medicare.

“Lydia, why didn’t you bring Detective Molina along?” Benny asked as they exited Twin Lakes. “I noticed his car outside your house the other afternoon.”

Lydia felt her face redden, but before she could answer Caroline was chiding her husband again. “Benny, watch out for that truck!”

Benny took the hint and dropped the subject. As they turned onto the main road, he said, “The police say we can resume work on Monday. They’ve investigated the land around the root cellar, but haven’t found anything to give them clues about the body.”

“Glad to hear it,” Lydia said, though Sol had told her this the day before. Caroline turned around to stare pointedly at the Bertran’s gift bag Lydia had placed on the seat between Barbara and her. “I see you’ve disregarded the invitation’s ‘no gifts, please’ and bought Daniel a present.”

“It’s only a box of his favorite chocolates,” Barbara explained.

Benny laughed. “Admit it, Caroline. We have a gag gift in the trunk.”

“Much as we try, we can’t break the habit of bringing a present to a birthday party,” Caroline admitted.

Minutes later they drove up the winding road that led to Carrington House. The stone manor house, built by a rich entrepreneur in the early twentieth century, sat atop a crest, behind which flowed a two-tiered bluestone patio and an extensive lawn, bounded by woods on each side. They followed the road to the parking area, passing azalea and rhododendron bushes bursting with red and purple blossoms. Lydia smiled as they climbed the wide stairs rising to the front entrance. Though she worked here three days a week, she never failed to admire the graceful lines of the mansion enhanced by its perfect setting.

She winked at Thomas, the evening manager, who showed them into the small cloakroom to the left of the entrance. Lydia and Benny placed Daniel’s birthday presents on a table beside other gift-wrapped boxes. Clearly, they weren’t the only guests to ignore the “no gifts” request.

From there, Thomas ushered then into a high-ceilinged, tastefully decorated salon, its trio of floor-to-ceiling windows allowing the last rays of sun to filter through the sheer curtains. A harpist played softly in the corner while young servers circulated among the thirty or so guests, offering champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Lydia, finding herself separated from her friends, reached for a glass of champagne. She sipped, exchanged greetings with a Twin Lakes couple, and then went in search of her host and hostess.

Evelyn and Daniel stood welcoming their guests beside a brocade sofa in the center of the room. They made an elegant couple: Evelyn in a pale green satin gown that set off her salon-coiffed, auburn hair; Daniel, tall and dashing in a tuxedo.

Lydia kissed them both. “What a wonderful party, Evelyn. Happy birthday, Daniel. And many, many more.”

They embraced her warmly. Daniel slipped an arm about her waist.

“Thank you, Lydia. You’re one of our favorites, and we’re delighted you’re celebrating with us.” He grinned and lowered his voice. “Stay tuned to the big announcement later on.”

Evelyn reached inside her beaded purse and slipped a ring on her finger. She extended her left hand to show Lydia the sparkling diamond. At least three carets, Lydia surmised, in an exquisite modern platinum setting.

“It’s beautiful! Congratulations, both of you. I wish the two of you every happiness.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Daniel said, looking past her, “but please keep it to yourself for the time being.”

“Certainly,” Lydia murmured, watching Evelyn return the ring to her purse. She was puzzled. Surely others must have noticed this display. But she had no time to wonder about it, because a flurry of people were descending on Daniel, hugging him and nodding to Evelyn. Lydia started to move away, when Daniel called after her.

“Lydia, come and meet my children!”

“With pleasure,” she said, though she would have much preferred to leave Daniel to his family. She knew and liked his youngest daughter, but the older two—Evelyn had confided—were bad news.

Daniel made the introductions, his hand resting on the sloped shoulder of the fifty-something, balding man in glasses who stood beside him. “This is my son, Arnold; his wife, Madge.” He presented their two children and their spouses, whose names Lydia quickly forgot. “And my favorite great-granddaughter, Elizabeth.”

“Your only great-grandchild, Poppy,” the ten-year-old informed him.

Everyone laughed. Lydia, knowing Daniel’s son and his offspring had rented a van so they could all travel together from New Jersey, asked about their drive to Long Island. To her dismay, Arnold told her in detail how bad the traffic had been on the Garden State Parkway and the George Washington Bridge, and of the accident on the Cross Bronx Expressway. Before he could complain about the traffic pattern on the Long Island Expressway, his daughter, Carolee, a younger, prettier version of her matronly mother, interrupted.