Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1) (57 page)

“You’ve remembered,” Manziuk stated.

“No, I couldn’t have.”

“Nick, let’s not have any more lies.”

Nick looked at Kendall. “It’s just…”

“Nick, whatever it is, tell him,” Kendall urged.

“All right. But, I don’t—” He stopped and thought for a moment. “No, it doesn’t make any sense.”

Manziuk glared at him.

“Okay.” Nick ran his fingers through his hair. “After we left here, we drove up the Don Valley Parkway. The traffic was terrible. We were crawling along. Kendall was harping about the job with the firm. I took off my seat belt and started to open the door. I threatened to jump out if Kendall didn’t stop talking about the job. When I was putting my seat belt on again, my hand went under the seat cushions and felt something round. I remember pulling it out and glancing at it. I was going to throw it in the garbage, but it looked interesting. I thought maybe it was Marilyn’s, so I dropped it in my pocket. I meant to give it to Kendall later, but I guess I forgot.”

“Marilyn, have you seen it before?” Ryan asked.

Manziuk held the marble out.

Marilyn looked at it closely, then shook her head. “No, never.”

“That tears it,” Manziuk said. The others looked at him. “I had hoped that there was a connection. But now—anyone could have put that marble there. Even a workman back at the garage. How long did you say you’d had the car?”

“I got it the day after the dinner party. So, since May third. Not many people have been in it. And it’s locked all the time.”

“Then we’re looking at a very narrow list of possibilities,” Ryan said.

“It could have been sitting for a while at the car dealer’s,” Manziuk said.

Kendall quickly shook his head “No, it wasn’t. It was a special order.”

“We’ll have checks done with the factory and the dealership,” Ryan said. “Kendall, you make a list of everyone who’s been in the car.”

Manziuk and Ryan were on their way out the door when a thought suddenly struck Manziuk. He spun around so quickly Ryan almost went flying. “Kendall, what color was your grandmother’s hair?”

“My grandmother’s hair?”

“What color was it?”

“I don’t remember. No. Wait. I believe she may have had red hair. Like my aunt’s. I’m not positive. But I think so.”

“Speaking of red hair,” Nick said quietly. “Lorry’s got red hair.”

Bart had said the same thing. Lorry has red hair.

“A lot of women have red hair,” Manziuk said harshly. “Why shouldn’t they?”

“Where to?” Ryan asked after they’d given the list to Ford.

“There’s one person we haven’t talked to for a while.” He started out. “And I’m driving. We’re in a hurry.”

“What was wrong with my driving?” She hurried to keep up with his long strides. “And what makes you think I can’t drive as fast as you?”

Ellen Brodie was awakened by the buzzer from the front gate. She sat up suddenly and then felt dizzy. She put her hands on the arms of the rocking chair she had dragged into the kitchen and stood up. She tottered over to the intercom. “Who is it?”

“Mrs. Brodie, it’s Inspector Manziuk. May I come in?”

“Oh, Inspector. I’m sorry. I was asleep. I’ll press the button. You have to open the gate and then shut it behind you.”

The button pressed, she went to the bathroom to check her appearance. Not good. Hair a mess, makeup smeared. Foolish to go to sleep like that. She looked at her watch. Seven o’clock.

Ellen opened the door just as Manziuk was reaching for the doorbell.

“Mrs. Winston is sleeping. I didn’t want to wake her up, poor thing.”

“Is your husband here, Mrs. Brodie?”

“George? Why, no. He’s at the office. Working late. He worked late last night, too. He was in court today, and he has the two funerals tomorrow and Friday. Thought he should get as much done as possible tonight. I expect he’ll be here soon, though.”

“Does he often work late?”

“Not a lot. But sometimes, certainly.”

“Mrs. Brodie, did you hear that Nick Donovan had been arrested?”

She sighed. “Yes, and I was so worried. But then you let him go, so I thought it was all right.”

“You didn’t want it to be Nick?”

“I don’t want it to be anyone except the guilty person,” she said with dignity.

“You realize, don’t you, that I’m going to have to arrest someone.”

She nodded.

“Neither of us want an innocent person to go to jail, do we?”

She mutely shook her head.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?”

She looked at the ground. Finally, she nodded.

“You lied, didn’t you?”

“I was asleep. Nothing could have awakened me. He put sleeping powder in my tea. I knew when I woke up later than usual in the morning. My head felt fuzzy.”

“Why did he do it?”

“You’d both better come in and sit down, Inspector.”

Manziuk and Ryan followed her into the kitchen. They found chairs, and pulled them up to Ellen’s rocking chair.

“I’ve been sitting here all day trying to decide what I should do. What’s best.” She clasped her hands. “I even considered turning myself in and saying I was guilty. But that wouldn’t really solve anything, would it?”

“Mrs. Brodie, have you noticed a change in your husband over the last while?”

“I’ve been thinking about that today, too. I think I’ve noticed it without realizing, if you know what I mean. His insistence on buying this house, for instance. I never wanted it. All my friends are in the city. But he had to have it. And the firm. Seeing it continue and be successful. It’s always been important to him, but lately he’s become obsessive about it. Everything has to revolve around Brodie, Fischer, Martin, and Brodie. He was so pleased that Kendall was joining. I think it would have killed him if Kendall hadn’t wanted to. And you know, deep in his heart, I don’t think Kendall does want to. I think that’s why he’s been so upset with Nick. Because, really, he isn’t comfortable with being in the firm himself.

“You might think because of this house and his Porsche and all, that Kendall is used to having a lot of money and things, but he really isn’t. George made sure he didn’t think he was special because his dad had a successful law office. He delivered newspapers and had to earn his money just like any other kid. I think he could be perfectly happy anywhere—in his and Nick’s apartment, which isn’t fancy at all. Now—now—none of that matters now, does it?”

“Did your husband tell you what happened? Was Jillian trying to blackmail him?”

She stared at him. “Jillian? No, not Jillian. Crystal.”

“Crystal? All right. Tell me about Crystal,” Manziuk said.

“She saw Kendall coming out of the garden,” Ellen said simply. “She told George she wouldn’t say anything. She liked Kendall and knew it must have been Jillian’s fault. She didn’t want Kendall to go to prison.

“So George asked her what it would take to get her to keep it to herself. She said she needed a car to get back and forth next year, and he said he’d get her one. And then she said she’d be awfully tight for money for gas and insurance, so he said he’d give her ten thousand dollars. She wanted some of it up front. So he told her to meet him that night.” She shook her head. “He took the money, but something went wrong. She threatened him with a knife. When he tried to get it from her, it slipped.” She looked at them. “You don’t believe that, do you? But I’m sure it’s true. George would never do anything like that on purpose. He has too much at stake. The firm. His family. He was only doing it to protect Kendall, you see.”

“So George told you that Kendall murdered Jillian?”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. “She told him she was going to marry Kendall. George hired a private detective and found out Kendall had been meeting her. So George paid her a lot of money to stay away from Kendall. And he got a tape of her telling Kendall it was over. It was last Friday morning.

“But Kendall was upset. He thought Jillian had been lying to him; that she had been toying with him.” She leaned forward in the chair, eyes brimming with tears that splashed down her cheeks, her gaze imploring Manziuk to believe her. “She mesmerized him. Like those women in that story about Ulysses. Sirens. She made him think he was in love with her. And then when she told him it was all off, he didn’t know what he was doing. He never would have done it if he was in his right mind.”

“So Kendall killed Jillian and then told George?”

“No, George only realized Kendall was guilty when Crystal came to him.”

“George told you all this?”

“Not then. But after I woke up Sunday morning, I felt so funny. And then they said the policeman had been drugged. So I knew George had put something in the tea.”

“Could he have?”

“I made the tea,” Ellen said. “But I left it in the kitchen. George brought me a cup. Then he gave me a second cup and suggested I take it to the policeman. I thought it funny that he would think of that, but it never occurred to me that—well, that it was wrong. And he seemed pleased. The policeman, I mean.

“I drank my tea and went to bed. I barely made it. In fact, I think George had to finish undressing me and put me into the bed. And in the morning, I felt so strange. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. Then when Bart said the officer had been drugged, I realized what had happened.

“Of course, George made a second cup after he got back from—from the meeting with Crystal. He washed my cup and the officer’s and put them away. And he crushed the Seconal in the Coke that was left.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Her eyes filled with tears once more. “I thought—I thought he must have an explanation—or a good reason—something…” Her voice broke and she took a few moments to compose herself. “Last night, after you arrested Nick, I got up the courage to tell George I wouldn’t let anything happen to Nick. But he said I shouldn’t worry, that Nick would be represented by the best counsel. But that wasn’t enough. I didn’t want Nick to go to trial at all.

“But George said there was no other way if we were going to protect Kendall. He just assumed, you know, that I would agree with him. That I wouldn’t tell you. I’ve always supported him in the past, you see. Never questioned what he did. So I’ve been sitting here all day wondering what to do.”

She was sitting on her hands now, rocking back and forth, “How can I ever tell Mrs. Winston? She’s all alone now, her beautiful daughter gone….” Her voice trailed off and she looked down. “I wouldn’t have let Nick take the blame, you know, or anyone, even Anne. But Kendall—” her eyes filled with tears, and her whole body trembled. “To think that I should have to lose him this way! And George, too. I’ve lost them both, haven’t I? I’ve already lost them?” Her eyes appealed to Manziuk for support.

“Once you’ve killed, you aren’t the same person you were before,” he said.

She nodded.

“Do you have a friend we could get to stay with you tonight?”

“My friends are all down in the city where we used to live. George doesn’t seem to understand that.”

“What about Hildy Reimer?” Ryan asked.

“Good idea,” Manziuk said. “See if she can come over. Try to get hold of Kendall and Bart Brodie, too. And have someone go by George Brodie’s office and pick him up.”

Twenty minutes later, Hildy was on her way, having dropped Stephen off at her sister’s. There was no answer at Kendall and Nick’s apartment. Bart had left Peter’s apartment, and neither Peter nor Shauna had any idea where to find him. He was going to pick Shauna up for the funeral the next day.

George Brodie was not at his office.

Manziuk stopped to talk with Ellen for a moment before he left. “Mrs. Brodie, I think your husband was lying to you. I don’t think Kendall killed Jillian Martin. I think your husband did.”

Her eyes grew wide. “But—”

“Kendall says he found Jillian just moments after she had been killed, and I’m inclined to believe him. He said his dad told him to say they were together in order to provide Kendall with an alibi. But I think it was really to provide himself with an alibi.”

She clasped her hands together and half-covered her mouth. “But he said he was in his office at the time she was killed. He said he was sending out e-mail. He said he could prove it from the times they were sent.”