Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1) (25 page)

“He says she never came. That one of them must have gotten mixed up as to which garden it was.”

“Does he say why she wanted to see him?”

“He says he doesn’t know. That it was her idea.”

Peter smiled. “Likely miffed.”

“What?”

“Well, if he really used to be her boyfriend, as you implied, she probably expected him to be still carrying a torch. Since he wasn’t, she likely wanted to find out why. Make him sweat.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Not unless he’s a very good actor. Of course, he probably is. But my guess is that our Nicky’s been hit hard, and not by Jillian. Lorry Preston’s the one who’s got him in a tailspin.”

“He could be using her.”

“What? To make Jillian jealous? No, I won’t say he might not have started paying attention to Lorry because of Jillian, but I’d put money on it that it’s more than that now.” Peter’s face sagged, the animation gone. “Look, Inspector, I can’t believe we’re doing anything but wasting time talking about the people in this house. But if one of them did it, I want you to get him. Only a beast could do something like this! Whoever did this, I want him punished to the full extent of the law!”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find the guilty party. Now, can you tell me what you did after lunch today?”

“Me?” His face went blank for a second. Then he produced a wry smile. “I suppose I’m the prime suspect, am I? Well, don’t waste any more of your time. I didn’t do it. But if you want to know my whereabouts, all right. I ate on the terrace. Jillian and Shauna were at the same table. Jillian didn’t appear to be very hungry. Neither did Shauna, for that matter. After lunch, I stopped for a drink at the bar. Bart was there. He appeared to be a bit out of humor. He finished his drink and went out. I finished mine and went upstairs. Jillian and I talked for a while.”

“Talked?”

Peter flushed. “I suppose someone heard us. Yes, we disagreed. I didn’t think she needed to be so upset with Shauna. She wasn’t pleased with my suggestion. To be truthful, I liked arguing with her. She stood her ground so well. A worthy opponent. None of my other wives were nearly as capable. Jillian never gave way to tears or recriminations. Clear and cool, that was her.

“Anyway, after a while, I decided to go downstairs. George was getting up a game of billiards, and I sat back with a cold one and watched. And we talked, of course. I think Jillian came down a short while later. She was out on the terrace.”

“Actually, you were overheard talking to her about Friday night. Something about going outside?”

He looked at the floor. “Oh, that.”

“Yes?”

“Friday night, Shauna went out on the terrace with Bart. Jillian said she was going to see what they were doing. Frankly, I didn’t buy it. So I pretended to go upstairs, but I slipped out front and went around so I could watch. I saw Jillian come out, and sure enough she went and found Bart and Shauna, and a few minutes later, they went in. Then Jillian stopped to say something to Douglass, who was sitting alone by the pool. I knew she’d be coming in a second, so I hurried back around the front and upstairs. Jillian came up a few minutes later, but I didn’t say anything then. I did this afternoon, though. I told her that I didn’t think it was up to her to protect Shauna. She’s twenty-seven years old; surely she knows how to deal with men by now. That’s what we were arguing about.”

“Okay, go on with what else you did. You were in the games room, I believe.”

“I watched for a while, and then I played some billiards with George and Douglass after Kendall and Hildy left. Practicing some shots, you know. Seeing who could make the hardest ones. Then about three-thirty, I went up to our room. Jillian wasn’t there. I lay down with part of the newspaper, and after a few minutes, I fell asleep. When I woke up it was after four. I was on my way down to join the others when I was met by George and Lorry coming to tell me they’d found Jillian’s body. I thought it was some kind of very unfunny joke. But of course I was wrong.” Tears came to his eyes and he raised his hand to wipe them away.

Manziuk jerked his head at Ryan. She looked at him. He jerked his head again. This time she got up and walked around to Peter’s chair.

“Constable Ryan will take you back to the others, Mr. Martin. If you think of anything we’ve over-looked, please talk to me later.”

“Yes. All right.” He stood up quickly, then swayed. Ryan started to help him. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He looked toward Manziuk. “Get him, Inspector.”

Back in the day room, Peter sank down in a large easy chair and covered his face with his hands. Hildy Reimer immediately brought him a cup of coffee.

Peter looked at it. “Get me something stronger.”

Ryan turned to look for Shauna. She was huddled in a corner of the room. When Ryan came toward her, she stood up.

“You’re Shauna Jensen?”

“That’s right,” she said tonelessly.

“Inspector Manziuk and I would like to have a word with you, please.”

“All right.”

Ryan led the way and the woman followed. Her shoulders were hunched forward, and she looked like a rag doll, with no life in her.

As the two women walked out, Bart Brodie swore, then picked up the whiskey bottle he’d managed to sneak in from the bar. The cork was stuck. He finally got it out. He held the bottle up for a moment and looked at it. As if in a trance, he turned the bottle upside down and watched as the golden liquid spilled out into a large Rorschach blot on the soft rose carpet.

The others in the room, startled at first, said nothing, except for George, who told his nephew in unprintable terms exactly what he thought of him.

At this, Bart merely started, then laughed, his mood apparently evaporated. He stooped to help Ellen and Lorry clean up.

TEN

In the study, Shauna sank into the chair Ryan indicated and looked up at Inspector Manziuk. Remembering what Lorry Preston had said, he wanted to ask her to remove the sunglasses, but he chose not to comment for now. He hoped Ryan would keep her mouth shut.

“Well, Miss Jensen,” he said in a fatherly tone. “This must have come as a great shock to you.”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“You realize that someone killed your sister. We have to find out who, so we’ll appreciate any help you can give us.”

She nodded.

“Can you tell me something about your sister? How old was she, for instance?”

“She just had her twenty-third birthday last month. There was quite a party.”

“And your own age?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“So Mrs. Martin was your younger sister. How long had she been married?”

“A year. She got married on her birthday.”

“So her birthday this year was also her first anniversary?”

“Yes.”

“This was her first marriage?”

“Yes.”

“What did she do previously? Did she have a job?”

She shrugged.

Ryan coughed.

Manziuk ignored her. “She finished high school?”

“Yes. She worked as a waitress for a while, but then she left home to go to Toronto and, eventually, she got a good job in a women’s store. A boutique. But she really wanted to be a model, or maybe an actress.”

“And how successful was she?”

“She was making contacts. But then she met Peter, and he wanted to marry her.”

“So she gave up her career?”

“I guess.”

“You aren’t sure?”

She shifted in the chair. “Well, I think she still wanted to get into films. Being Peter’s wife wouldn’t stop her from that, would it?”

“No, I expect not,” Manziuk replied dryly. “Was she happy in her marriage?”

He was looking at her, but the dark glasses were like a brick wall hiding her eyes, hiding her thoughts. She took her time answering the new question, as if she had to consider it.

“Happy?” she said at last. “Well, she had what she wanted.”

Ryan apparently couldn’t keep herself from butting in. “She wanted to marry a well-off lawyer?”

Manziuk frowned.

“She’d have preferred a banker or someone in films. But a lawyer was too good to pass up.” Shauna’s voice was unconcerned.

“I see,” Manziuk said. His glance at Ryan might have been perceived as apologetic. “Was Mr. Martin aware she had married him for his money?”

Shauna mouth dropped open. “Did she?”

“I thought you just said that.”

“Oh.” She moved in the chair. “Well, she wouldn’t have married him if he didn’t have any. But I think she liked him a lot. He’s really very nice.”

“Had your sister or Mr. Martin ever thought of getting a divorce?”

“I don’t think so. She never said.”

“When did you last see her alive?”

“We were at the same table at lunch. I went up first. She came to my room for a minute or so later on. Then I went out.”

“Where did you go?”

“Walking. With Bart Brodie. There’s a ravine behind the house. We went there.”

“And you got back at what time?”

“I don’t know. I was going to my room to change when I met Mrs. Brodie. She said she had to talk to me, and then she said Jillian was dead.”

“Okay. Just a few more questions, Miss Jensen. Saturday afternoon you went and got your hair done and bought a new dress. I understand your sister didn’t approve of it. Is that true?”

She stiffened. Her words were evenly spaced and without any emotion. “She pointed out to me that it didn’t suit me.”

“What did you do with the dress?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Did Bart Brodie encourage you to get the dress and a new hairdo?”

“Yes.”

“Was your sister angry with him?”

“She didn’t think I should listen to him.”

“I see. Well, thank you for your cooperation.” He stood and opened the door for her. She was about to go out when he said, “Miss Jensen, if you had to pick the murderer, who do you think it might be?”

Her mouth twisted and for the first time she looked as though she might have some emotions after all. But it quickly passed, and she said evenly, “I can’t imagine anyone killing Jillian. There’s no reason. It was probably someone who escaped from a mental hospital. You know. For the insane.”

She started out the door.

“Do you always wear sunglasses in the house?” Manziuk flung at her.

“I—My eyes are very sore. Too much sunlight.” She rushed out.

Ryan moved to the door and raised her eyebrows. But all she said was, “Who now?”

“Bart Brodie,” Manziuk replied, a lazy smile on his face. “He seems to enjoy causing controversy. Let’s see what he has to say.”

Before Ryan could respond, there was a sharp rap on the door. and George Brodie walked in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but some of us have been talking and we have a few questions.”

“For instance?” Manziuk asked lazily.

“Well, we…” For a corporate lawyer, Brodie appeared rather nervous. “We were wondering how long we have to remain together. Some of the ladies and Mr. Martin would prefer to go to their rooms. Are you planning to interrogate each of us one by one?”

“When we finish checking through the house, we’ll certainly let you all go and be more comfortable. As to talking with each one—not interrogating, surely!—why, yes, I do like to have a little chat with everyone. So often some irrelevant little detail remembered by someone not even remotely connected with the murder can give us the clue we need.”

“Do you seriously suspect one of these people?”

“Why not?”

George looked around his study, his eyes flitting from bookcases to desk and back to Manziuk. “Well, it’s just—absurd! I know them. They’re ordinary people. Not murderers!”

“You know Hildy Reimer? Did you know she’d been married to Peter Martin?”

George coughed. “No, I didn’t know her. He’s been in the firm five years. I knew the wife before Jillian. My wife knows Ms. Reimer.”

“She knows her well?”

He looked down. “No, I guess not.”