Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1) (24 page)

“What were the attitudes of the other wives toward her? Mrs. Brodie and Mrs. Fischer.”

“Ellen and Anne?” Nick shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” He glanced from Manziuk to Ryan and back to Manziuk again.

“How about Mr. Martin? Did he and his wife get along?”

“I guess so.”

“And Mrs. Martin’s sister, Shauna? I understand there was a bit of a disturbance Saturday evening?”

“Saturday evening?”

“Miss Jensen and Mr. Bart Brodie were late for supper.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I guess they were.”

“I understand she looked quite different from before.”

He shrugged. “She had a new dress or something. I really wasn’t paying much attention.”

“According to Lorry Preston, you stopped in at the music room around three-fifteen today.”

“I did. I asked her if she wanted to do something later. She said she was going to play the piano for a while. I told her I’d come back.”

“And you went straight to the rose garden?”

“I knew I was early, but I wanted to think.”

“What did you do when she didn’t show up?”

“To tell you the truth, I was thinking about some other stuff and I had no idea how much time had passed until I looked at my watch and it was nearly a quarter to four. Then I decided she’d stood me up. I really wasn’t worried about it. In fact, I was relieved.”

“What would you say if I told you someone in this house had strangled Mrs. Martin?”

Nick continued to look perplexed. “I can’t believe it was Mr. Martin or any of the Brodies or Lorry. I guess I don’t know the others as well, but I can’t see why any of them would want to do it.” He looked at Manziuk and then relaxed a little. A disarming smile appeared. “I sure wish I could tell what you’re thinking. You know, you remind me a lot of one of my law professors. Absolutely inscrutable.”

Manziuk allowed the slightest of smiles to touch the corner of his mouth. “If you do think of something that might help us, don’t forget it’s your duty as a law-abiding citizen to pass the information along.”

Nick laughed and walked out.

“I’ll bet the part about having lots of girlfriends is accurate,” Ryan commented dryly.

Manziuk stretched back and touched the fingertips of his hands together. “He doesn’t seem to have noticed much this weekend.”

“Perhaps he had other things on his mind,” Ryan suggested.

“Perhaps.”

“Who do you want to talk to next?”

“See if the husband is able to talk with us.”

Peter Martin slowly followed Ryan in and sank without a word into Manziuk’s chair.

Manziuk, who had been considering the titles of the books on the shelves of the study, squeezed himself into the other chair and studied Jillian Martin’s husband. The man certainly gave the appearance of someone who had suffered a sudden shock. His eyes were puffy and red. An air of despondency seemed to have bent his shoulders.

“Mr. Martin, I’m very sorry to disturb you at this time.”

Peter’s hand came up as if to brush away a curtain. “That’s all right,” he said flatly. “You have a job to do. I just hope you get whoever did this. You know,” he said with a small ironic laugh, “I’m one of those people who strenuously supported legislation against capital punishment. But right now I could beat the guy’s brains out all by myself. I guess your viewpoint depends a lot on how close it comes to you, eh?”

Manziuk nodded. “Mr. Martin, do you have any idea who could have done this?”

Peter slowly shook his head. “I wish I did.”

“She had no enemies you’re aware of?”

“No. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to sit here and tell you there weren’t people who disliked her. Everybody has enemies of some sort. But it takes something a lot stronger than dislike to murder someone that way. It takes pure hatred. I don’t know of anyone who felt that way. Nobody who hated her.”

“But someone murdered her.”

“Then you’d better get busy looking for some lunatic.”

“We have police checking this entire area. If there was a stranger on these grounds, we’ll find out.”

“Do that then. And find him.”

“Mr. Martin, I understand your wife and her sister had an argument after supper last night. Can you tell us about that?”

Peter sat up straight. “You surely don’t suspect Shauna, do you? That’s absolutely ridiculous!”

“We’re checking everyone.”

“Well, don’t get carried away. Yes, they had a difference of opinion. Jillian isn’t—wasn’t—very tactful. But by this morning, Shauna realized that Jillian was right and she apologized. Shauna adored Jillian.”

“Jillian was the older of the two?”

“Well, no. Shauna was older. But Jillian was the one with the ideas, the vitality. Shauna’s quite plain and not very outgoing. Most people would take Jillian to be older. She was out in the world more—knew what was what. Jillian used to say Shauna was an innocent babe. No sophistication.”

“What about Bart Brodie? What part did he play in this quarrel between Shauna and Jillian?”

He shifted in the chair. “Who knows why he did it? Likely for his own amusement. Anyway, Jillian was good and mad at him. I wouldn’t be surprised if she told him off. She had a temper, you know. Nobody’d walk over her.” His voice showed his pride. “Ask Bart if you want to know what he was up to.”

“You didn’t go with them to the nightclub?”

“No. I’m not much on dancing and all the noise, especially right after a big meal. There’s a good bar here, so I just took it easy.”

“Nick and Lorry also stayed?”

“Shauna did, too. We had a game of pool and then sat around and talked. Mostly about religion.”

“Religion?” Manziuk asked, surprised.

Peter Martin smiled for the first time. “Lorry’s an unusual girl. Could have a lot of men on her string. But she seems more interested in God than in men. Don’t remember how we got on the topic. Oh, yes. I asked her what she did. Goes to a Bible college. We got into a pretty good discussion about life.”

“Did Nick say much?”

“Nope. Mostly Lorry and me. She can hold her own, too. Surprised me. I thought I’d have her rattled in a few minutes, but she held out all the way. Knows what she believes in and what she wants out of life, too. A lot like Jillian that way.” His voice lost its animation on the last sentence and he stopped talking.

“Jillian was your second wife, I believe.”

“Fourth. And I know where you’re headed. You figure she married me for my money. Well, why else does a twenty-two-year-old marry a forty-three-year-old who’s getting a pot and starting to go gray? Of course she did.”

Manziuk again looked surprised. “You didn’t mind?”

“Not at all. If having a bit of money can’t get you a gorgeous young dame, then why have it? She married me for my money and I married her because I happened to want a young attractive blonde. We respected each other and I think we had as good a marriage as most people I know.”

“What about your other marriages?”

“As I was telling Nick yesterday, you make a few mistakes. I got married early. College sweetheart and all that. It lasted twelve years. We got a divorce. I’d already met Hildy. She contracted to do some personnel stuff for the firm I was with before I joined this one, and we got married a short time after my divorce was final. We lasted five years. I felt a little, shall we say, tied down, and she got mad and divorced me. I played the field for a while and then married Genevieve. She took me for a good deal of alimony and went off with some guy from a rock band. She could have done a lot better.

“I decided since my first wife had brown hair, Hildy black, and Genevieve red, it was time for a blonde. I met Jillian at a party. She was with a doctor. She left the party with me, and we ended up married.”

“Would you have eventually gotten a divorce?”

Peter laughed. “What a question!” He leaned his face against the back of his hand for a moment, then looked Manziuk in the eye. “Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Sooner or later. One of us would have gotten itchy feet. As I was saying to Lorry last night, life is to live. I don’t believe there’s anything after. What difference does it make if you get married once or a dozen times, just so long as you enjoy yourself? But,” he said more seriously, “a friendly divorce is one thing. No one has the right to cut off life, especially from someone who was so beautiful. Whoever did this deserves a very slow and very painful death.” His voice quivered. “You get him. And when you get him—”

“Were you aware that your wife knew Nick Donovan?”

Surprise, then bewilderment registered. “What exactly do you mean?”

“About four years ago, he asked her to marry him and she turned him down. That’s what he says, anyway. Did she ever mention this to you?”

“That’s what he says?” Peter repeated.

“Yes. However, he also says he’s had no contact with her since, and was completely unaware of her marriage or that she would be here this weekend.”

“I certainly don’t know anything about it. Nick and Jillian, eh? That’s a bit humorous. He reminds me a little of myself twenty years ago, except I was married with a couple of kids. Maybe he reminds me of what I should have been, unencumbered. So he tried to marry her? I wonder if she cared about him at all?”

“He says she would have married him if he’d had money.”

Peter laughed. “Smart girl. She was no fool, inspector, no matter what anyone might tell you. She knew what she wanted and she worked hard to get it. I don’t mind telling you I wasn’t particularly in a marrying mood when I met her. But she said it was marriage or nothing. So I married her. She was one smart cookie.”

“What’s your opinion of Nick Donovan?”

“I’ve got a kid somewhere that must be nearly his age. Maybe a few years younger. Same age as Lorry, come to think of it.” He paused momentarily. “But you asked about Nick. You know we offered him a chance to join us?”

Manziuk nodded.

“He turned it down. I told him he’s making a big mistake because it may be his one big chance. If Nick goes into this skiing—say he’s good for five years. He’s what? Twenty-five. He can’t last long. Most skiers are young. So a few years from now he wants to get a good place in law, who’s going to want him?”

Manziuk consulted the list Carnaby had given him. “What about Hildy Reimer? Someone mentioned that she’s your ex-wife. Did you know she was going to be here this weekend?”

“No, I did not.”

“Do you know why she came?”

“I was told it was because she was having her apartment redecorated and she had no more idea of my presence here than I did of hers.”

“Is there a chance Ms. Reimer is still in love with you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Hardly,” he said with a twist of his lips. “She divorced me.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t like my spending time with other women. As a matter of fact, she was surprisingly sticky. I thought she was more—well, modern, I guess. But she certainly didn’t murder Jillian. I’m sure she was merely curious, no more. She’s deceptive. Much softer than you’d guess.”

“What exactly do you mean?”

Peter coughed and adjusted his position. “Well, she looks like a real hard-boiled female executive—and she is. She does a good job and she works like a man. But she’s got a feminine side, too. She’s a good mother and, I guess for the right man, she’d be a good wife. Like Ellen. Home and family first. But I wasn’t the man she should have married, and we both realized it.”

“There is a child?”

“Yes. A boy. She has custody.”

“Have you seen him recently?”

“Look, no bones about it. I’m not the family type. My first wife and I had three kids. If they turn out okay, it will be entirely her doing. It’s the same in Hildy’s case.”

“Has she tried to talk to you this weekend?”

“No.”

“Did she try to talk with your wife?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Mr. Martin, what would you say if I told you your wife asked Nick Donovan to meet her in the rose garden at three-thirty?”

“But she wasn’t in the rose garden, was she? Or was she killed after that?”