moon through his skylight. Take Niles Seymour-why did he show up at the Saybrook Point Inn flaunting his young girlfriend for everyone to see? The man had even told Jamie Devers about her. Why does a married man who’s cheating on his wife do that? Why be so reckless and foolish?
Baffled, Mitch roused Clemmie from her sound sleep and went downstairs to put on milk for cocoa. It being chilly he built a small fire in the fireplace and lit it, the kindling crackling in the quiet. He fixed his cocoa and sat in his easy chair with it, gazing into the flames. After a moment he heard small plopping noises-Clemmie venturing downstairs after him, step by step by step. She let out a squeak to announce her wee presence in the room, then leapt up into his lap. After a few minutes of pad-pad-padding she curled up and fell instantly back to sleep.
Unlike Mitch, she did not have a lot on her mind.
Questions. He had so damned many of them… If there was a third person, who was it? Bud Havenhurst? The man’s timing was awfully fortuitous. After all, he had chosen virtually the same precise moment to raid Dolly’s funds as Tal Bliss had chosen to murder Niles Seymour. Bud’s explanation was that when he’d seen Niles and Torry together at the inn he felt certain Niles was about to skip town. And so, faster than you can say Rouben Mamoulian, he cleared out her accounts to protect them from the man’s evil clutches. Was that believable? Or did Bud know more than he’d let on? He and Red Peck had been together that day at the inn. Both of them had seen Niles with Torry. This made them the only two people who ever had, didn’t it? Hadn’t Lieutenant Mitry said that none of Torry’s friends or coworkers ever saw Stan? Because if that were the case, then that would mean… Wait a minute…
Mitch suddenly sat up in his chair, awestruck. Slowly, he found his gaze drawn over toward the wall-at the art that was hanging there, aglow in the dancing golden firelight. The more he kept looking at it the more the pieces started to fall into place. Ghastly, horrible place. They fit. Sure they did. All of the pieces fit. He had his answer. But how to prove it? How to prove any of it?
Now Mitch jumped to his feet, dislodging Clemmie. She blinked up at him quizzically, unable to comprehend anything that might be more significant than her natural rest. Mitch raced to the phone. He’d tracked down the lieutenant’s home number when he was thinking about calling her. Now he dialed it, his heart pounding. She answered on the second ring.
“Did I wake you up?” he asked her, not bothering with hello.
“Why, no…” Her voice sounded guarded and cool. “I was drawing.”
“Good for you. How is that coming? Have you thought about what we talked about?”
“I have had a few other things on my mind, Mr. Berger.”
“What happened to Mitch?”
“How did you get my home number, Mitch?”
“I went to journalism school, remember? They teach us things like that.”
“And did they teach you how to tell time? It’s four o’clock in the morning.”
“You said I should call if something came up.”
“That was then. I’m on the shelf now, in case you haven’t been paying attention. So if you don’t mind…”
“I do mind. It wasn’t fair. What they did to you. What they said about you in the papers. It wasn’t fair.”
“It’s never fair. If I hadn’t achieved some measure of closure, they would have said I was in over my head. Either way, I end up as toast. Your classic lose-lose situation.” She fell silent briefly. “Actually, there was something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Tal Bliss told it to me before he died…”
It was about that day in New York, when Mitch had almost been pushed in front of the subway train. Bud Havenhurst had informed the resident trooper that it was Mandy who had done it. That it was a sex game with her. With the two of them. Bud had even been in the apartment later that night when she’d tried to seduce Mitch.
Mitch considered this news for a long moment, his emotions teetering back and forth between anger and just plain revulsion… No, I really do not understand these people… Finally, he said, “I don’t buy it, Lieutenant. Well, maybe I buy that Bud was hiding there in the apartment. After all, why make up anything so sick? But I don’t buy the rest of it.”
“Neither do I,” she concurred. “The numbers simply do not add up. Mandy Havenhurst weighs in at, what, a hundred and twenty pounds? One-twenty-five? And you must weigh-”
“A lot more than that,” Mitch conceded quickly.
“She couldn’t have pulled you back in time. Not even if she’d wanted to. She’s not strong enough. Only a good-sized man could do that.”
“Which means one of two things,” Mitch mused aloud. “Either Mandy really did intend to kill me or Bud lied to Tal Bliss about who was responsible. What do you think?”
“I think that I’m all done thinking,” the lieutenant replied wearily. “Man, what in the hell do you want, anyway?”
“I don’t think this case is closed. I don’t buy that either. And I can’t believe you do. Surely you’re not satisfied.”
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “Satisfied? That is one strange way of putting it.”
“Okay, fine, I’ll put it to you another way-you don’t believe Tal Bliss did all of this by himself, do you?”
“The case is closed, Mitch.”
“You’re not answering me. What do you believe?”
“I believe in evidence.”
“So do I. That’s why I called. I have a very important question to ask you: Is there any chance that Bliss didn’t shoot himself?”
She fell silent for so long that Mitch said, “Hello…?”
“What, you mean like was he murdered?” she finally responded. “Not a chance. I got there in two seconds flat. I saw no one leaving the scene. And the coroner found nothing to indicate a struggle. The man’s clothes were clean. The man’s skin was clean-other than the powder burns on his face. The only prints on the gun were his. And the handwriting on the suicide note was his. No, it was suicide. Bank on it.”
Mitch thought this over carefully. Sheila could be wrong about that element. But that didn’t necessarily blow his theory out of the water. There was another explanation. An even simpler one.
Now it was Lieutenant Mitry who plunged into the silence. “Exactly where are you going with this, anyway?”
“You said Torry Mordarski registered at the Saybrook Point Inn under an assumed name.”
“Correct. Angela Becker was the name on the driver’s license.”
“Did anyone see Angela Becker and Niles Seymour together?”
“Well, yeah. Bud Havenhurst and Redfield Peck did. And they positively identified Angela as Torry from Torry’s photos. This is old news. You know all of this.”
“No, I mean, did anyone else see them together?”
“Such as who?”
“Such as a chambermaid or room service waiter. Another guest in the dining room.”
“I don’t remember. Why, is it important?”
“Ultra.”
“Then let me get my notes, okay?”
Mitch waited anxiously while she fetched them. He could hear her footsteps as she returned. Hear a whole lot of meowing, too.
“I’m showing no other corroborative testimony,” she said, leafing through her notepad. “That’s a no.”
“So Bud and Red are the only ones who saw them together?”
“That’s a yes. What of it?”
“Where are you going to be tomorrow, Lieutenant?”
“I’m driving to Newport in the morning.”
“Pick me up on your way. I’m coming with you.”
“Um, okay, I don’t recall inviting you.”
“But don’t come anywhere near Big Sister. I don’t want people to know we’re still in contact. I’ll be waiting for you in the parking lot of the Super Stop and Shop in Old Saybrook. What are you driving?”
“My usual ride, but-”
“Fine. Shall I look for you around ten?”
“Give me a reason. Give me one good reason.”
