Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1) (26 page)

“You know Shauna Jensen?”

“I’ve met her once or twice before.” His eyes returned to gaze at Manziuk’s face. “But surely you can see at a glance that neither of these women would have done a thing so horrible.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t, Mr. Brodie. By the way, since you’re here, what did you do after lunch today?”

“Surely you don’t suspect me?”

“Just a routine question.”

George’s cheeks had reddened. “Inspector, this is outrageous! You should be looking for the criminal somewhere other than in my house. You’re wasting taxpayers’ money questioning my family and my guests. I’ve a good mind to call the police commissioner and see what she thinks of this line of inquiry.”

“The commissioner would just tell you to cooperate with the police instead of wasting our precious time.”

George didn’t speak for a minute. He glanced away and breathed deeply, giving Manziuk the impression of someone gathering his anger back into a box. Then he said quietly, “After lunch, I came to my study to take care of some minor business items. My nephew found me here and we talked for a few minutes. I then played billiards with Mr. Fischer, my son, and Ms. Reimer. Mr. Martin was also present. The others left after a while. When they were all gone, I stayed behind to tidy up. Then I came back to my office to answer some e-mail.

“Kendall came in a few moments later. I think he said he was looking for a book. He and I started talking, and I think it was about a quarter to four when he said he should see if Lorry wanted to go out for a while. I stayed here until Lorry Preston knocked on my door and told me what had happened. I was on my computer during that time, finishing up my e-mail.”

“Can I have someone check your computer?”

“It’s right there.” He indicated the desk, where Ryan had pushed the small laptop to one corner.

“Any private ideas as to who, if it had to be one of your guests, might be the murderer?”

George’s voice was dry. “The only one around here with the guts to commit murder is my nephew, but murdering a woman he didn’t even know would be, I fear, beyond even him.”

“Your nephew exasperates you?”

“My nephew is a leech I could do without.” Brodie managed a tight smile. “If you ever find
him
murdered, you’d do well to question me first.”

“Anything else you can tell us?”

“Nothing relevant to Mrs. Martin’s murder.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brodie. You can tell the others we’ll move along with all possible speed.”

“My guests were planning to leave after lunch tomorrow. Some of them would now like to go tonight.”

“No, I’d like them to stay until tomorrow. And they’ll need to leave their addresses with Detective Ryan here.”

“Very well,” George Brodie said as he went out and carefully closed the door.

The moment he was gone, Ryan leaned her chin on her hand and said matter-of-factly, “He’s worried.”

“Can you blame him?” Manziuk asked. “Not very good publicity to have a murder in your Japanese garden. Especially if the murderer turns out to be your law partner.”

“You think Martin did it?

“It is most often the husband. But as he himself pointed out, he’s already been divorced three times. Why not one more?”

Ryan was willing to speculate. “Perhaps she wasn’t as compliant as the first three. Or maybe he’s tired of paying alimony. Could be a dozen reasons.” There was a pause. “I wonder,” she said, sitting up and tapping the desk with her pen, “what she was doing in the garden? Was she alone or with someone else? I mean, if she’d been with someone she trusted, and he just casually walked around behind her, still talking, and then suddenly slipped the rope around—could that have happened?”

“Don’t see why not,” Manziuk said, but he stood and stretched as if bored. “How about getting Bart Brodie in here before someone else barges in?”

When Detective Constable Ryan reached the games room, she saw that Shauna was sitting beside Bart on a loveseat, his shiny head bent close to her mousy brown one. As Ryan went forward, Bart glanced up and said something. Shauna quickly rose. She walked to another chair and sank limply into it.

Bart’s eyes were hard to read, but Ryan’s initial impression was that she had detected merriment in them. After tossing down the last of the drink he was holding, he followed her. “Lovely weather we’ve been having, don’t you think?”

Ryan ignored him and walked quickly along the hallway to the study door, where she stopped and waited for him to enter.

He halted beside her, a smile on his face. “Now, do I go in first? Are you sure? Even though you’re a cop, you’re also a lady. One never knows what is proper etiquette. And I suppose I ought to have said policewoman, or perhaps police person. I must say you’re the most attractive police person I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Involved in too few murders, I guess.”

“This way, please, Mr. Brodie,” she said briskly, motioning for him to go ahead.

He sighed and raised his hands. “As you wish.”

He entered and sat in the chair Manziuk indicated. He seemed relaxed, but his eyes on Manziuk’s face were measuring. He laughed suddenly. “You must get confessions by just looking at people. Very intimidating. Shall I admit right now that I did it, or do you enjoy the thrill of the chase?”

“Just tell the truth, Mr. Brodie, and we’ll get along fine,” said Manziuk, continuing to lean back comfortably in his wing chair.

Bart also settled back, crossing his ankles and reaching into his pocket. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked casually.

Before Manziuk could reply, Ryan said brusquely, “I do.”

“Then I certainly won’t.” He took his hand out of his pocket and laid it on the chair. “Although I may decide not letting me smoke is a form of torture.”

“Smoking is a form of lunacy,” Ryan said.

“That will do.” Manziuk’s voice was whip-like.

Bart looked from one to the other, waited for a moment, then said, “Fire away, officers. I’ll manage.”

“Why were you invited this weekend?” Manziuk asked.

“I wasn’t. I literally dropped in out of the blue. Well, through the patio doors, actually. My dear Aunt Ellen was just sitting thinking about her party, and I fear I came close to causing a stroke. She definitely wasn’t expecting me.”

“Did she invite you to stay?”

“Not at first. She was all set to throw me out on my ear. In fact, when I said I couldn’t so much as afford a sleazy motel room, she said a few days in the open air would do me good. Very un-aunt-like, I thought.”

“You’re broke?”

“That’s one way to put it. But I always bounce back again.”

“You came here to get money?”

Bart smiled. “You’re certainly direct. How about we say I came here to see if my uncle was interested in making a small investment?”

“And was he?”

“Not yet. But give him time.”

“I see,” Manziuk said dryly. “Why did your aunt decide to let you stay?”

“Well, she’s got a soft side, you know. Love of family and all. And I am family. But primarily, she wanted me to keep Jillian and Anne from each other’s throats.”

“Why was that?”

He shrugged. “Apparently they weren’t the best of friends. In my opinion, Anne hated Jillian with all the anger of a jealous woman.”

“Jealous?”

“You’ve seen them, haven’t you? Jillian was early twenties, blond, gorgeous,
et cetera, et cetera
. Anne is early forties, ten or fifteen pounds overweight, getting a few wrinkles, with two teenagers and all the housewifely attributes. Why wouldn’t she be jealous?”

“You implied more than a simple case of envy.”

“Yes, well.” Bart laughed easily. “Perhaps you’d better ask Anne or Douglass about that.”

“What are you implying?”

“Just that there may have been more to it. I got that impression, anyway. I could be wrong, of course.”

“You think there was something between Mr. Fischer and Mrs. Martin?”

“Merely an impression, officer. Nothing more.”

“I see.” Manziuk paused for a moment.

Bart watched him, eyes twinkling, gaze steady. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“You seem to have been involved in an argument between Jillian Martin and Shauna Jensen. Something about supper Saturday?”

“Oh, that. Nothing much to tell. Shauna needed to learn a few tricks to enhance her appearance, and I helped her.”

“Her sister seems to have disapproved?”

“Since I have no reserves about speaking ill of the dead, I’ll tell you right now that Jillian Martin was a self-centered witch. Despite appearances.”

“Did she confront you?”

“Heard about the dance yet?”

“I know a number of you went to a nightclub.”

Bart proceeded to enlighten them about his talk with Jillian and her resulting anger.

“So she slapped you right on the dance floor?”

“She had a temper.”

“So we’ve heard. Can you tell me what you did after lunch?”

“After lunch? Well, let’s see. I think I went in and had a drink at the bar. Yes, that’s right. Peter had one, too. Then he went upstairs and I went to my apartment above the garage. Used to be a chauffeur’s place. Quite nice, really, if you don’t mind a mouse or two. The little beasties have had their way with it for the past few months. Then what did I do?”

“Did you take a car out, perhaps?”

Bart laughed. “I wondered if anyone knew that. I wasn’t going to mention it unless someone else did. My uncle prefers me to ask him, and then he’s liable to say no. Yes, I did take one out for a short while. Then I got to thinking, why be cooped up in a car when there was a scenic backdrop behind the house?”

“Were you alone in the car?”

“Come, officer. I am of age. But, as a matter of fact, I was alone.”

“And walking later?”

“No. I met Shauna at the back of the house and talked her into coming for a walk with me. Actually, I called her an idiot, and then she said she’d come. Amazing how her mind works. We were gone for quite a while.”

“What time was it that you left?”

“I’m not generally known to go by a clock. No, wait—when I was changing, I remember it was about three. So it was maybe five minutes later we went out the gate.”

“How did you get out?”

“I got the key from Mrs. Winston.”

“And did you lock the gate again after you left?”

“I didn’t have to. It locks automatically. And I know it was locked because Shauna tried it. She was annoyed with something I’d said and tried to go back inside. She couldn’t get in, and I had the only key, so she stayed with me and cooled down.”

“And you got back at—?”

“After four, I know. They’d just found the body.”

“Did anyone see you walking?”

“Witnesses, eh? Well, as a matter of fact, I doubt it. It seems to me someone was on the terrace, but I can’t say for a fact that anyone saw us leave, and I don’t recall seeing anyone on the other side of the wall, either. Afraid you’ll just have to take my word for it, officer. Of course, I realize I could have slipped back for five minutes and killed her, but really I can’t think why I’d have done it. Or how I’d have known she was there. Can you?”