Swan Song (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) (12 page)

It was at times like this that Dianna got angry with Evelyn.

“Yes, Evelyn, I’m sure. Please put me through.”

In a moment, Lee was on the line.

“Dianna?”

“Hello, Lee.”

“Oh, God. I’m so glad to hear your voice. I’ve missed you so much. When can I see you?”

“You’re the one who has trouble getting away,” said Dianna.

“Not for long, that’s what I want to talk to you about. Can you meet me tonight?”

“All right.
Where?”

“Downtown.
Let’s meet at seven, Kres Chophouse. I’ll take you to see the condo after dinner. I’d ask you to stay, but I don’t have a bed yet,”
he said laughing.

Dianna smiled and then steeled herself. She would not be that easy.

•

“Well, how do you like it?” said Lee, as he went about lighting candles that reflected on the dark, polished granite of the kitchen bar and a lonely square glass coffee table in the living room. He flicked on the Bose CD player and soft, romantic music floated through the sparsely furnished apartment. A bottle of wine nestled in a silver bucket of ice alongside two fine-stemmed glasses.

Dianna was fully aware of what he was doing.

“It’s a nice Downtown location. It will probably be convenient for you.”

“For
us
,” he said, taking her in his arms.

All high-minded thoughts flew away as his hands moved over her body.

In the empty living room, with new carpet for a bed,

Dianna dissolved in a pool of pleasure without a drop of pride.

* * * * * 

Chapter 23

“S
o Porter already went to the cops?” asked Joe.

They were in Joe’s Land Rover headed to Lee and Sylvia Porter’s house in Winter Park.

“Yes. Evelyn told him she couldn’t keep the condo secret any longer, even if it meant losing her job. She knew Lee and Dianna were supposed to meet at the condo that night. Dianna had called the office and left a confirming message for him with Evelyn.

“Lee swore up and down that he changed his mind and
didn’t
meet Dianna, that he was with Sylvia all night, but Evelyn wasn’t sure she believed him. She told him she wouldn’t go to the police, but she was going to talk to me about it. You have to give her credit; that took a lot of guts.

“I don’t know, maybe it was weighing on him, too, Joe. She didn’t lose her job, after all. He said he understood and asked her to stay. He just asked her to give him time to volunteer his information to the police.”

“And he agreed to meet with us…
with
his wife,” said Joe. “So, he must have come clean with her, too.”

“Well, she’s his alibi,” said Julie. “This will be an interesting meeting.”

They were in an old established neighborhood on the shores of Lake Maitland. Joe pointed out the Winter Park Racquet Club.

“I heard Brandt was one of the charter members,” he said.

Julie was looking for Moss Drive and didn’t hear him.

“Who was?”

“James Brandt, Porter’s partner.”

“There’s Moss Drive,” said Julie.

Number four-eighty-seven was huge, with pillars and arches and a barrel-tile roof. It was all one floor, but sprawling. Like most homes on the old lakefront street, the original house was long gone. Julie thought that the Porters must have torn down two old houses to build this one with its attached three-car garage. They pulled into the bricked circular driveway, got out and rang the bell. Julie half expected a butler to answer, but it was Lee Porter.

“Hi, Joe.
Julie,” he said somberly. “Come in, please.”

They stepped into a wide, marble-floored room which overlooked a pool and the lake. The room was split into two areas, left and right, by two square tray ceilings bordered with dark wood beams. Matching wrought iron chandeliers hung from each, centered above two identical floral rugs. The left square was a dining area, and the right a living room with a green velvet sofa and floral chairs. On the far right sat a baby grand piano.

Sylvia Porter sat in the living room in front of a fringed ottoman that held a large tray and a tea service. She wore a single strand of pearls over a pale green sweater and skirt. There wasn’t a blonde hair out of place in her French twist. She held a cup of tea and didn’t bother to get up.

Lee directed them to the sofa and took a chair on their left. Sylvia was on their right. A middle chair, directly in front of them sat empty.

Great…a tennis match.

“Sylvia, you remember Julie O’Hara, and this is Joe Garrett.”

He turned to Julie and Joe.

“My wife, Sylvia.”

“How do you do,” she said with a quick smile that involved no other part of her face.

“Would you like some tea?” said Lee.

Julie declined and was glad that Joe did, too. This was going to be uncomfortable.

“First,” said Lee, “I want to apologize, Julie. I should have been more forthcoming when you came to my office. I wasn’t,” he said, glancing at Sylvia, “for a very obvious reason.”

“We understand,” said Joe.

Personally, Julie thought Lee was a cliché, regardless of his misery.

“Would you tell us what you told the police?” asked Julie.

“I told them about our affair and about leasing the condominium by the lake. I told them that she stayed there that night, that I was planning to join her but I never went there. Sylvia and I were at a late dinner party, and then we came home here together.”

Lee’s forearms were resting on the arms of his chair. He unconsciously turned his palms slightly upward as he spoke but not in an exaggerated manner.

He’s relaxed, blinking at a normal rate. The pitch of his voice is normal. He got right to the point, no irrelevant information. His feet and legs are still. His body language is congruent. He’s telling the truth…but a censored version…because of Sylvia?

Julie turned to Sylvia, who was a statue with a teacup on her knee.

“So the two of you were together all night?”

If looks could kill, I would be dead right now.

“Yes,” said Sylvia, placing her cup on the ottoman tray. “For a change, Lee was with me the entire night.” She stood up, straightening her skirt. “Now that I’ve told the police and the two of you, I think I’ll leave. Unless there’s something else you need
me
for? Lee?”

Her tone was icy, but there was no mistaking the truthfulness of her statement.

“No. Thank you, Sylvia,” said Lee.

Sylvia walked out of the room.

“Well,” said Lee, “that’s it. I couldn’t get away. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

NOW you’re lying. Your hand just went to your face, you shifted in the chair. I can see the whites on the bottom of your eyes. You’re lying.

“Excuse me for being blunt, Lee, but there is something else. Dianna wasn’t waiting in a bar. Evidently, she spent the
whole night
in your condo, so it didn’t matter if you were late. Exactly
why
didn’t you meet her?”

His first phone call to Dianna was at ten o’clock.

“I can’t believe it. We’re just sitting down to dinner! I thought they’d never get past the damn cocktails. I’m calling from the bathroom. I’m sorry, honey, I’m going to be late.”

“Don’t worry, Lee. It’s alright. I’ve got clothes here and everything I need.”

“Okay. Maybe another hour…I’ll be there soon.”

He made the second phone call from his car at quarter to twelve. She was sleeping. She sounded a little groggy. Maybe she had some wine?

“Sorry to wake you, honey. I’m almost there.”

“Good. I was dreaming. I have good news, Lee,” she said, sleepily. “I’m pregnant. I love you so much. See you soon.”

Lee pulled off the road. He sat there for a few minutes.

Then he did a u-turn and headed for Winter Park.

“So that stopped you from going there?” said Joe, shocked and not a little disgusted.

Lee turned and looked right at him.

“Yes, it did. I had a vasectomy four years ago.”

* * * * * 

Chapter
24

“W
ell that was fun,” said Joe, heading back to the office.

“At least we know why Dianna was at Lake
Eola,” said Julie.

“Which means it was a crime of opportunity or she was followed,” said Joe.

“Right. But I don’t think it was random. We already decided that, remember? No robbery, no sexual assault.”

“Yeah, but this changes things, Merlin. We know
that the killer
didn’t
lure her there. The odds are that Dianna woke up and realized Lee wasn’t coming, so she headed to her car. That makes
other
scenarios more likely. It
could
have been a mugging gone wrong, someone drunk or strung out on drugs. That would fit with a switchblade, too; they don’t usually have guns.

“And I know you don’t want to hear this, Julie, but it also strengthens the current theory. Dianna may have realized that Lee didn’t come because of the baby. What would that have done to her romantic dreams of a ‘happy ending?’ Maybe she just wanted an
ending
.”

Julie was subdued for the rest of the drive, even after they split up and she returned to her own office. Joe’s logic was unassailable, but she still didn’t buy the suicide angle. From all that she knew of the woman, Julie felt that Dianna’s reaction to being stood-up would have been
anger
, not despair. Dianna might have been an optimist, but she wasn’t fragile.

Hell, didn’t she manage to grab the knife from an attacker?

Julie knew in her heart that she
did
. Dianna certainly wasn’t walking around with a switchblade in a little Louis Vuitton bag…a zipped bag, at that. Who would bother re-zipping a purse after they slit their wrist?

There’s no way she killed herself.

Okay, that’s settled.

Could it have been a crime of opportunity, though? Was Dianna simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Julie reluctantly had to admit the possibility. Still, there was an awful lot of passion swirling around Dianna Wieland. She was simultaneously involved with two men, one of them married, with the further complication of a pregnancy. That was a volatile situation. And she had a bitter enemy in Mike Menello.

The phone on her desk rang, startling her.

“This is Merlin,” she said.

“
Julie, you’d better come over,”
said Joe.
“Betty Wieland’s on her way. She said she has something she needs to show us.”

* * * * * 

Chapter
25

P
romptly at half-past one, Betty Wieland walked into Joe’s office carrying a shoebox. She greeted Julie and Joe, and looked nervously toward Janet Hawkins, seated at her desk.

It wasn’t the first time a client did that, and Janet immediately pulled her purse from a drawer and stood.

“Do you mind if I go to lunch now, Boss?”

“No. Go ahead, take your time,” said Joe.

As Janet ducked out the door, Joe pulled up a third chair for Betty and offered her some coffee. She declined and sat there clutching the battered shoebox on her lap, her body on the edge of the chair, angled toward the door as if reconsidering her decision to come.

“Frank can’t know I’m here. I told him I had a dental appointment. But you said you
wanted to know my Dianna better, to understand her life. And when I found this box…”

Julie put her hand on top of Betty’s hand.

“We’re glad you came, Betty. It was the right thing to do.”

She looked at Julie gratefully. Sitting back, she set the box on the desk.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Joe knew better than to touch the box in front of him.

“What did you want to tell us, Betty?”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

Julie looked at the old, beat-up Thom McAn shoebox.

“Start in Massachusetts, Betty,” she said gently.

•

“Dianna was in the ninth grade when she began to turn against us,” said Betty. “I shouldn’t really put it that way, I suppose. She was fifteen. All teenagers are embarrassed by their parents at that age, aren’t they? But we’d always been so close, you see.

“Our lives circled around her. I never worked. I wanted to be there for her when she came home from school. That was my job…to help Dianna with her homework, to do her clothes, to drive her to the shopping mall or to a friend’s house. And Frank, he became like her coach with the skating, taking her everywhere.