Murder Most Persuasive (12 page)

“Is Joe here yet?” I asked, shrugging out of my coat.

“No, but I expect him any minute.”

No sooner were the words out of Ann’s mouth than there was a rap on the door. The voices fell silent and Ann turned to me, her eyes wary. “Showtime, I guess,” she said and reached to open the door.

As expected, it was Joe who stood uneasily on the front steps. At his side once again was Sergeant Beal. From the thoughtful way she eyed Ann, I suspected that she knew of Joe and Ann’s past. I didn’t get the impression she viewed this information through unbiased eyes.

“Hello, Joe. Sergeant Beal,” Ann said, opening the door wider. “Won’t you come in? Everyone is in the living room.”

“Thank you,” Joe said. He shot Ann a quick look that seemed to express discomfort at having to be here at all. Ann ducked her head in silent acknowledgment before proceeding into the living room.

The uneasy silence that pervaded the room abruptly ended with Joe’s arrival. Scarlett gave a happy bark and scampered over to him while Frances snapped, “Why exactly have you asked to talk to us again? Nothing has changed since last night.”

“Well, actually one thing has changed,” Joe said as he dodged Scarlett’s advances. “I received the coroner’s report. Michael was definitely murdered. His skull was fractured. It appears he was hit with something hard and heavy.”

A brief silence met these words. After a beat, Frances shrugged and said, “Well, did anyone really think it was anything other than murder? I mean, the man was buried under the pool, for God’s sake!”

“If I recall correctly,” said Sergeant Beal with a studied glance at her notebook, “
you
were the one who asked if Michael’s death could have been the result of his falling and hitting his head.” Sergeant Beal looked up from her notes with a studiously bland expression. Frances pressed her lips into a hard line and breathed loudly through her nose.

“I do apologize for the inconvenience,” Joe said evenly, “but in light of the report, I wanted to make sure that I had everything I needed from you. Then I can move on with the investigation.”

Ann moved out from behind Joe. “Won’t you two have a seat?” she asked, indicating the empty couch. Both Joe and Sergeant Beal sat down. Ann and I found seats as well. All eyes turned questioningly to Joe, but it was Sergeant Beal who began the interview.

“Ms. Ames,” she said, turning to Reggie and glancing down at her notebook, “I wanted to go over again the last time you saw the deceased. You said that you ended the relationship with him because of his excessive drinking. Is that correct?”

Reggie smoothed the lines of her skirt before answering. “Yes, that’s right. I felt that his drinking was starting to change him. I didn’t like it.”

Sergeant Beal nodded sympathetically. “I can imagine. What was his reaction to your ending things?”

Reggie’s eyes narrowed. “He was disappointed, of course. I already told you this.”

“I know,” said Sergeant Beal with an apologetic smile. “Please forgive me, it’s just for the report. I have to get every detail.”

From the way the corner of Reggie’s mouth curled, I don’t think she was buying Sergeant Beal’s whole “good cop” routine.

“So,” Sergeant Beal continued, “you say he was disappointed. Was he anything else?”

Reggie stiffened. “What else would he be?”

Sergeant Beal spread out her hands. “Well, was he perhaps angry? I mean, I would imagine that he’d be pretty angry. By ending your relationship with him, wouldn’t you also be ending his shot to take over the company? I mean, I don’t know about
your
dad, but
my
dad certainly wouldn’t want to hand his company over to someone I didn’t trust.”

Reggie’s eyes narrowed until they were mere slits. “What exactly are you getting at?”

Sergeant Beal’s hands fluttered as if she was trying to find the right words to express herself. “Just that if he thought that he was not only losing you but also the chance to control the company, he might react with an emotion stronger than disappointment. He might, in fact, have been angry. Very angry. Since by your own account he was drinking very heavily that night, he might not have been able to control his anger.”

“And?” Reggie bit out the word with barely suppressed rage.

“And he might have reacted physically.” Sergeant Beal softened her voice and leaned forward. “He might have tried to attack you. If that were the case, and you fought back, it would be self-defense.”

Reggie sat perfectly still. Her face drained of color. Her eyes, however, did not. They blazed with unbridled fury. “How dare you! How dare you! You think I killed him! I loved that man. I would never kill him.” My stomach twisted in anticipation of something terrible. Reggie’s temper was not something you wanted to see. Frances apparently agreed with my assessment, because she immediately spoke up.

“Reggie, calm down. This is silly. No one thinks you had anything to do with Michael’s death. Besides, you couldn’t have. You said you broke up with him right after the fireworks and then went to bed.”

Sergeant Beal turned to Frances, as Reggie tried to get her emotions back under control. “And why does this mean that Ms. Ames had nothing to do with Mr. Barrow’s death?”

“Because Michael was alive and well long after the fireworks ended. I saw him myself.”

“And where was this?” Sergeant Beal asked with an edge in her voice.

“Down by the docks. With Ann,” Frances replied.

Sergeant Beal’s eyes swung toward Ann. “Really? Well, that
is
interesting. I don’t believe you mentioned this in your earlier statement, Ms. Reynolds. Would you care to explain why that was?”

Ann tried to speak but couldn’t seem to find the words. “I…” was all she got out. I moved over and crouched next to where she sat. Taking her hand, I said quietly, “Ann, it’s got to come sometime.”

Ann looked at me and nodded. Looking back at the room, I saw that Frances looked confused and Reggie curious. Only Joe seemed to sense Ann’s deep level of disgust and discomfort. The words still stuck in her throat, so I said what she couldn’t.

“Michael came down to the dock after Joe left and I’d headed for bed. He talked to her a bit about her plans for school, and then he … he told Ann that he was in love with her.” Frances gasped in horror at this. Reggie didn’t move, her face pale with surprise or fury. “When Ann rebuffed him, he…” I paused and looked to Ann, unsure how to continue.

Taking a deep breath she said, “He attacked me. He tried to…” The words stuck in her throat. Ann wrapped her arms around herself. “He attacked me,” she repeated. “He … he caught me by surprise, but once I realized what was happening … well, I fought as hard as I could.”

Joe’s face was like granite and he gripped the arms of his chair. “Did he…?”

Ann shook her head. “No, I stopped him.” I tried to catch Ann’s eye and caution her to stop, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were firmly fastened on Joe. “I pushed him away,” she continued, saying the words I feared she’d say. “Michael was so drunk that he lost his balance and fell back. I ran like hell for the house and didn’t stop until I got to my room.” Joe relaxed slightly, but his expression was still murderous. I thought once again that it was a good thing Michael was already dead.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Reggie asked, her eyes wide with horror and shock.

“I was going to,” said Ann. “But then I guess I wanted to pretend it never happened. In the morning Michael was gone and you announced that you’d ended things with him. Then we found out about the embezzlement and it seemed pretty clear that he was out of our lives forever. It was hard enough for you already. I couldn’t see how telling you what he’d done to me would help.”

“Oh, my God, Ann, you poor thing!” cried Frances.

Reggie crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Ann, hugging her tight. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. But why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’d been hurt enough,” Ann said. “I didn’t want to add to it.”

“Oh, Ann. How horrible. I had no idea!”

“It’s okay. How could you have?”

Reggie shook her head sadly. “I don’t know … I just somehow feel responsible. I’m so sorry.”

Ann grabbed Reggie’s hands. “Don’t be. It’s over. I’m fine now. But I’m sorry you had to find out. He hurt a lot of people in his life.”

“Well, at least he can’t hurt either of us anymore,” said Reggie.

“Amen to that,” said Frances.

I would have felt much better about this little family catharsis if it hadn’t been for the way Sergeant Beal gazed at Ann like a hungry cat eyeing a trapped mouse.

CHAPTER 12

A woman, especially if she have the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can.

—
NORTHANGER ABBEY

“S
O I TAKE IT YOU FOUGHT BACK
against Michael when he attacked you?” Detective Beal said blandly. Joe blanched at her words. However, if Sergeant Beal noticed, she ignored it.

Ann nodded, not picking up on Sergeant Beal’s real meaning. “Yes, I told you. I pushed him back and ran for the house.”

“You must have pushed him pretty hard for him to fall back,” Sergeant Beal said.

Ann finally realized where Sergeant Beal was taking the conversation. Her eyes widened. “I pushed him from me and yes, he fell back, but he wasn’t hurt. He was just drunk and I took him by surprise.”

“By your own account, you just said that you pushed him off of you hard enough that he fell down and that you ran for the house and didn’t look back. How do you know he wasn’t hurt?”

“Because I was there. I saw him fall. It wasn’t the kind of fall that injures people.”

“You’d be surprised the damage a simple bop to the head can produce,” Sergeant Beal continued.

Next to her, Joe said, “Erica…”

“Erica” held up her hand to stop him. “I understand your reluctance to see someone you were once … friends with come under scrutiny like this, Detective. And I know you would hate for it to seem that you were biased in this investigation. But the fact remains that we have a dead man. A dead man who this woman claims she attacked.”

Ann’s jaw dropped open. So did most every one else’s, for that matter.

“Now wait a damn minute!” cried Miles. “She did not say that she ‘attacked’ Michael. She said that she pushed him off of her and he fell back! I don’t know how you got to be a police officer if that’s how you interpret facts. Any fool can see that Ann not only didn’t kill Michael but that she simply didn’t have the strength to do him any real harm. Michael was a big man. Ann is a petite woman. Her pushing him couldn’t have done any real damage.”

“Oh, I would agree with you there. In fact, I don’t see how he could have fallen if it was just a push,” said Sergeant Beal.

“What the hell does that mean?” snapped Ann.

“It means that you were scared and probably mad. Furious, even. Who wouldn’t be? He’s your sister’s fiancé—practically part of the family—and he’s attacking you? No one would blame you if you, let’s say, picked up a tree branch or a log and bashed the guy’s head in,” Sergeant Beal said evenly.

Ann opened her mouth, but it was Miles who spoke. “Don’t say a word, Ann. Not one more damn word. Not until we’ve gotten you a lawyer. This interview is over.” He stood up and marched over to Sergeant Beal. Looking down, he said firmly, “Let me show you out. We’ll be in touch.”

Sergeant Beal didn’t answer or move right away. It was Joe who nudged her into action. “As you wish,” she said, but if it was in response to Miles or Joe, I couldn’t tell. She bent her head to tuck her notebook back into her pocket. As she did so, she missed Joe catching Miles’s eye and pointedly mouthing “Thank you.”

I gave a sigh of relief. At least Joe still believed Ann. I just hoped it was enough.

*   *   *

Miles was on the phone to his lawyer seconds after the front door shut. The rest of us circled around Ann, not that any of us really knew what to say. It was all so absurd. But it seemed clear to me that in her haste to discredit Ann in front of Joe, Sergeant Beal had squarely put Ann in the position of number one suspect. Not with any of us, or with Joe for that matter, but the rest of the police department might not see it as we did.

“Scott,” I said, “can you get those records for us? The ones listing all the employees from Michael’s time at the company?”

Scott nodded. “Absolutely. Do you think they’ll help?”

I shook my head. “I really don’t know. But we have to do something. We can’t let Sergeant Beal railroad her theory about Ann without a challenge. Maybe the list will provide some other ideas.”

“That woman…” said Ann, “that woman thinks I killed him, doesn’t she?”

“Who cares what she thinks?” I said. “She’s an idiot. The fact is that you didn’t kill Michael and we’re going to prove that.”

Ann looked up at me and said one word. “How?”

“
We’re
going to find his killer,” I said. Apparently, I was going to direct the Christmas pageant after all.

CHAPTER 13

Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.

—
EMMA

A
FTER EVERYONE LEFT,
I put Ann to bed. She was in a state of semishock. Once she was settled, I called Aunt Winnie and told her the news. She was horrified, of course—both at the fact that Michael had attacked Ann and that she was now suspected of killing him. Peter had much the same reaction. However, knowing me as he did, he was doubly upset because he knew that I was now bound and determined to help prove Ann’s innocence. “I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he said. “Just promise me not to do anything stupid—at least until I get there.”

“I promise to save the stupid for until you get here,” I said. He didn’t laugh.

When Ann got up the next morning, she was still reeling from Sergeant Beal’s accusation. I tried to talk her out of going to work, but she insisted that it was the very thing she needed to keep her mind off things. We agreed to meet for dinner at six at the Old Ebbitt Grill. As Scott had promised that he would get us the list of past employees this afternoon, we planned to discuss it over dinner.