The Blue Journal (12 page)

“So I was told,” Knoebel replied curtly.

“We place the time of death at about four in the afternoon. Do you find it . . .”

“Unusual that my wife might be in our home, undressed, at four in the afternoon?”

Walker nodded.

“No. I do not.”

Walker thought better of pursuing that line of questioning for now. “It seems there was no burglary, nothing missing from the house.”

“That appears to be correct.”

“Which means that the motive was personal, not monetary.”

Dr. Knoebel nodded slowly, for the first time allowing a facial expression to betray something. It was as if he found the idea unspeakably sad.

“Did Mrs. Knoebel have life insurance?”

Sorrow was replaced by another of Knoebel's feeble impressions of a smile as he sat up and gave a theatrical look around his property. “No, Detective, she did not.”

Walker nodded. “Had to ask.”

Knoebel did not reply.

“Mrs. Knoebel was some sort of a computer consultant, correct?”

“Yes, and a very good one,” he said. Then he added, “When she chose to work.”

“You're aware we impounded your wife's laptop.”

“Yes, although I am not clear about the reason.”

“To check her e-mails and so forth.”

“I see.”

“Might help us with the case.”

The two men were facing each other now, and Knoebel took a moment to close his eyes and rub them slowly. He had long fingers, Walker noticed, like a musician. “I will need to consider that. I never have time to bother with computers for social purposes.” He paused, then added, “I really don't know what manner of unrelated private information she may have entered.”

Walker took a moment to study the man.
Helluva poker player
, he reckoned, given what Blasko, Kovacevic and he had just spent the afternoon reading. “You have any idea what password your wife used to enter her programs?”

With no hesitation, Knoebel replied, “I do not.”

Walker looked directly into the doctor's cold eyes. “I figure if you believe there's anything embarrassing in her files, you'd be likely to try to stop us from gaining access. Like denying you know her passwords.”

“You certainly are a blunt man, Detective Walker. It is not a pleasant quality, but I must say, it saves time.” He shook his head stiffly, just once, back and forth. “I presume, despite your warrant, that I may still have some rights to its return.” Walker did not reply. “I will consider the issue of Elizabeth's computer and let you know tomorrow.”

The way Walker had it figured, Stanley and Elizabeth may have had their problems, but there was no husband who would refuse anything that might lead to the discovery of his wife's murderer—except if the husband pulled the trigger. “It would be helpful if you'd give us your cooperation on this.”

“Tomorrow,” Knoebel repeated.

Walker stood up. “I've taken enough of your time. We'll call you about the arrangements for your wife's release.”

“Very well.” Knoebel stood also. “You can contact the funeral director. Your chief has the information.”

“When we have anything else on the investigation I'll get back in touch with you.”

Walker hesitated and Knoebel said, “You have another question?”

“Yes, Doctor, I do. You first learned of your wife's death when we called the hospital yesterday afternoon.”

“Correct.”

“Then you finished your surgery before coming up here.”

“That is correct.”

Walker hesitated, then asked, “How is your daughter holding up through all of this?”

It was clearly not the question Knoebel expected. “Kara is a bright young woman. It is a sad time for her, of course, but she is doing fine. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Walker did not feel the question required a reply. He said, “Good night, Doctor.”

Knoebel said, “Good night, Detective Walker.” Then he turned and walked back to his house, leaving Walker to find his own way to his car.

CHAPTER 12

The next morning, Walker was back in the detectives' squad room with a database printout concerning Nettie Sisson. Kovacevic had done a preliminary investigation into the backgrounds of some of the people involved with Elizabeth Knoebel. He discovered the housekeeper had an interesting personal history.

Walker poured himself a cup of coffee, then had a look at the information. “Looks like we'll be having another chat with Mrs. Sisson,” he said. “First we need to find someone in that police department in Ohio who was familiar with her case.”

“Already on it,” Kovacevic told him.

“What about Mrs. Knoebel's e-mails? You find anything useful in there?”

“Zero. Nothing threatening or anything close.”

“What about her calendar?”

“Whatever dates she had with any of the people in her diary, she wasn't recording them in her computer.”

They were interrupted by the sound of the intercom, followed by a summons from Gill. Coffee in hand, Walker followed Kovacevic into the chief's office.

Gill was standing behind his desk, waiting. “Shut the door,” he told them.

Walker obliged. “What's up?”

“You had your visit with Doctor Knoebel last night.”

“That's right,” Walker said.

“Sit down, sit down,” the chief said as he took his place behind a large wooden desk strewn with files and forms and various items of unfinished business.

Walker sat in the armchair facing Gill. He was careful as he took a sip of the steaming coffee, but it burned his tongue anyway. “Damn,” he said, “I should learn to use milk.”

“How'd the talk go?” the chief asked.

“It went all right. Is there a problem?”

“No problem. What'd you think of him?”

“Let's say I've met warmer icicles in my day. I hope when I die my family's a little more broken up than he seems to be.”

“You think he killed her?”

Walker rocked back on the hind legs of the chair and perched there while he thought it over. “It's a little early to say. I'll be looking over the coroner's report again this morning.”

“You're not testifying at an inquest here. I just want your gut reaction.”

“Okay,” Walker nodded. “I can't say I liked the guy, but my gut tells me no. I don't think he killed her.” He looked at the coffee, decided to wait before having another go at it.

“They can release the body this morning,” Gill told them. “Jake says he's gotten everything he can from his examination, fully documented.”

“I heard. Still bothers me though. Cremation.”

Gill nodded, a reluctant admission that even he was troubled.

“What about putting the brakes on that? I'll take the hit,” Walker said. “Tell them I asked Jake to run a different test or something.”

“Not a bad idea,” the chief agreed, “let me speak with the coroner's office.” Then he got to the point. “Your new friend Dr. Knoebel already called here this morning, just before you came in. He was looking for you.”

“About the release of his wife?”

“No. He said you're looking through her computer?”

“Right.”

“He didn't sound happy.”

Walker brought his chair down with a thud. “I don't think happy is in his repertoire. He say anything else?”

“He said when you're done he wants a chance to review everything you find.”

Walker nodded. “That's it?”

“So far.”

“Wonders never cease,” Walker said. Then he leaned forward and said, “I have something to tell you, Chief.” Then he treated Gill to a brief description of what they found in her computer.

At first Gill was silent. Then he said, “A diary of sexual adventures, is that what you're telling me?”

“Something like that,” Walker replied. “A diary, a novel, we're not sure yet.”

“Elizabeth Knoebel kept a diary?” the chief asked again, as if the notion was completely foreign to him.

“That's what I'm calling it. We printed it out, if you want to have a look. I have a sample here,” he said, holding up the sections he brought with him.

Gill gave his head a determined shake. “I'm not leading this investigation, you are. The fewer people who see it, the better.”

“Agreed, but there are names in here. They're in code, but Teddy said it should be easy to figure out. If her diary isn't pure fiction, if she really was having these affairs, she named the men. And some women too.”

The chief looked as if he had just been told his tax returns for the past ten years were going to be audited. “What if there are names? What if they're real people? Local people? You'll turn this town into Scandal City.” He pointed at the pages Walker was holding as if they might catch fire. “We'll have every tabloid reporter in the country camped out on Main Street.”

“Maybe so, but I've got a murder to solve.”

Chief Gill tilted his head back and peered at Walker down his long, uneven nose. “You just said this thing might be fiction. Even if it's not, you don't actually know it has anything to do with her death. You use it the wrong way and a lot of innocent lives could be ruined.”

Walker frowned. “From what I read, these lives aren't so innocent. And as far as I can tell, the only life that's been ruined so far belonged to Elizabeth Knoebel. Who knows, she might have given us a clue to her murderer in here, whether she knew it or not. We've got to do something with the information.”

“Not we, Walker,
you
.” Gill shook his head again. “You go figure out if there's anything in there that helps the investigation. And do it discreetly. We don't make another move on this until you determine whether or not it's relevant to solving this case.”

“Got it.”

“Good. Find out what you can from this . . . this . . . diary, then let me know where we stand. No court orders, no public announcements, no leaks. You clear?”

“As crystal,” Walker said, then stood up. “How about Doctor Knoebel? He told you he wanted to see what we found. That could be interesting, right?”

Chief Gill grimaced. “Let me think about that one,” he said, then waved them out.

In the hallway, Walker told Kovacevic they needed to make some phone calls. Then they would visit Mrs. Fitzmorris, the neighbor who spotted a car leaving the Knoebel driveway on the evening of Elizabeth's death. “See if you can set that up with her.”

“Right,” Kovacevic said, then he hesitated. “What do you think the chief is going to do about Doctor Knoebel and this diary?”

Walker smiled. “Are you kidding? He isn't going to do anything. He's going to hand that little hot potato to me.”

CHAPTER 13

Since Walker's visit to her office on Thursday morning, Randi Conway had been haunted by the images of those photographs of Elizabeth.

Then there was the second anonymous note.

Whatever the persistent Detective Walker thought about lawyers, it was time to call hers.

Robert Stratford had been Randi's attorney since she opened her office in town, and along the way they became friends. Collecting friends was actually Stratford's principal gift. He had parlayed that talent into a successful law practice that had grown into a political career on the rise. After a stint on the Town Council, he became a Selectman, and he was now First Selectman. He currently had his eye on a legislative post in Hartford, and wherever that might lead him.

He was married to Linda Hope, daughter of a wealthy businessman who owned four car dealerships and considerable real estate holdings in the area. The marriage proved helpful to the growth of Stratford's law firm as well as his political aspirations. To everyone's disappointment, he and Linda had no children after more than fifteen years together. All they had, as his wife was fond of saying, was each other.

Since becoming a Selectman, Stratford had cut back on his law practice, but he always had time to help out his friends. When Randi telephoned him at his office that morning, the first thing he did was remind her of the invitation to dinner he had left on her machine a couple of days ago.

He said, “I was wondering if I'd ever hear back from you,” doing his best to sound hurt rather than annoyed.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “It's been a rough couple of days. I'd love to come if the invitation is still open.”

“Done. Now that we have that settled that, what's been so rough?”

“Elizabeth Knoebel,” she said.

“Awful thing, yes. I was just on the phone with Chief Gill about the case.”

Randi hesitated, then said, “She was my patient, Robert.”

“Oh. I hadn't heard that,” he said.

“She was.” Randi then described the visit from Detective Walker.

“You have to be careful here, Randi.”

“That's why I'm calling,” she replied. “I told him Elizabeth's death did not change my professional obligations to keep her confidences.”

“You're certainly right about that.”

“He threatened to get a court order to compel my testimony.”

“I see.” Stratford took a moment to consider her position. “You obviously need to avoid that at all costs.”

“Yes I do.”

“So does the town, I assure you. This could become a nightmare for everyone.”

“It already is, Robert.”

“Of course, of course. Let me look into this and get back to you.”

“Okay.”

He could hear the hesitation in her voice. “Something else?”

She thought about the notes but decided not to say anything about them, at least not yet. “Nothing,” she said. “We can talk more about this when I see you.”

“You know that I'm here for you.”

“Thanks.”