and Milo Kershaw knew about it and kept it to themselves, correct?”
“Correct. Poochie because she was told to by her father. Or so she claims. Milo because he was ashamed that John J. Meier had gotten his mother pregnant.”
“Cut to the present. We have one missing Mercedes Gullwing and two dead guys. One is the very same Pete Mosher, who it turns out was worth a fortune, and the other is Guy Tolliver.”
“Who stood to inherit a fortune,” Des put in. “We just found out that Poochie left him her entire art collection.”
“No way! I mean, that’s good. Now we don’t have to ask ourselves why he died. We know why. Are you still looking for a pair of killers?”
“That’s our working theory.”
“Then let’s put a few potential alliances out there. People who share an interest in what’s been happening. Like Milo and Doug. They were childhood buddies with Pete, right? Doug gave Pete a place to stay. Milo was Pete’s half-brother. Pete was way rich.”
“Milo wasn’t provided for in Pete’s will. Neither man was.”
“Which Milo was bound to resent. Doug, too, maybe.”
“The Jeep…” Des said suddenly. “Doug delivered an old Jeep to Poochie while I was there yesterday. He was around Four Chimneys at the time of Tolly’s death. And he was out in his tow truck when Pete was murdered.”
“Meanwhile, Milo’s also allied by blood to that twosome perennially voted Dorset’s least likely to succeed…”
“Stevie and Donnie.” Des picked up this ball and ran with it. “Fact: These crimes occurred as soon as they got out of jail. Fact: The Kershaw brothers were supposed to show up for work at Four Chimneys Farm at the same time the Gullwing disappeared and Pete got whacked. Fact: They were on the premises, finishing up work for the day, when Tolly got it. Fact: They’re lying, scummy bad boys.”
“Then we’ve got their sister, Justine, whose boyfriend happens to be the sole living member of Four Chimneys’ gen-next. And therefore has a huge stake in how the financial future shakes out. Bement has a temper, and no one but Justine to vouch for his whereabouts when Pete was murdered.”
“No one to vouch for him period yesterday. He got back from work well within our time frame of when Tolly died. Claims he was home alone at Four Chimneys.”
“And where was Justine?”
“Good question.” She jotted that down in the notepad she kept in the left breast pocket of her jacket. “Let’s look at Poochie’s two heirs, Claudia and Eric.”
“We know they can’t stand each other. We know Claudia’s not getting along with her husband, Mark.”
“And now we know why she’s been trying to seize control of the family purse strings,” Des added. “Because Poochie recently amended her will to leave Tolly her art collection. Which Eric claims he could care less about.”
“I can believe that.” Mitch bit into another doughnut, sorry he’d settled for a half-dozen. “Eric is way too wrapped up in his farm to care about anything else. The man is over-the-top intense about it. And, let’s face it, madness runs in the…” Mitch trailed off, swallowing.
She looked at him. “Were you going somewhere with that?”
“Not really.” His head was suddenly spinning. Something had just clicked. Something he’d forgotten.
“We also have to look at their respective spouses, Mark and Danielle, who may or may not be involved with each other.”
“Mark’s definitely into her,” Mitch said, chewing on his doughnut. “Danielle’s the iffy one. She may be a caring, good-hearted sister-in-law. Or she may be a scheming slut.”
“She hardly seems that type, does she?”
“Why not? Where is it written that scheming sluts have to be sex kittens in tight skirts and Jimmy Choo stiletto heels?”
“They make for an awfully unlikely couple,” Des said doubtfully.
“Have you caught a look at us in the mirror lately, slats?”
“Good point,” she admitted. “But what’s their motive for mowing down Pete and Tolly?”
“On paper, their respective spouses end up a whole lot wealthier. That could translate to much heftier divorce settlements should they choose to opt out and marry each other.”
“They may have signed prenups. That would cut your argument right off at the knees. Worth looking into, though.” This Des jotted down, too.
Mitch beamed at her. “You’ve come to depend on these skull sessions, haven’t you? Just between us, where would you be without me?”
“Still on the Major Crime Squad, for starters.”
“Okay, now you’re just being outright nasty.”
“We’ve also got to consider Glynis Fairchild-Forniaux, official keeper of secrets. She’s known the truth about Pete’s identity and wealth all along. The details of his will, Poochie’s bequest to Tolly-these are things that she’s had inside knowledge of. And she’s a player, our Glynis. Someone with political ambitions. A thriving law practice. An amazing home, kids, a veterinarian husband who’s handsome and…” Des drew her breath in.
Mitch studied her curiously. “Handsome and what?”
“Plus there’s her ankle. She told me she twisted it yesterday morning while she was training for the marathon. There was a toe skid in the mud near Pete’s body. Someone tripped and fell. Possibly that someone sustained a minor ankle injury. Plus Yolie dislikes her intensely. I’ve never seen Yolie take such an intense personal dislike to someone. That’s worth something, don’t you think?”
“I do,” Mitch said, nodding his head.
“Mitch, is there something else you haven’t told me?” she asked, her eyes locking onto his. “Because on the phone last night I had the feeling you were holding something back. Is it to do with that hypothetical statutory rape?”
“I’ve told you everything I can without putting you in an awkward position.”
“To hell with awkward,” she said angrily. “We’re trying to solve two murders here. Why are you holding out on me?”
“Because I gave my word. I’m a working journalist, Des. If I’m told something in confidence then it has to stay in confidence. It’s a matter of ethics.”
“Know what? I hate it when you invoke your holy journalistic calling this way. It’s like you have a bubble of moral superiority around you and if I try to burst it I’m being all evil. It’s not fair, Mitch.”
“I don’t disagree, but here we are. Doing any better on that self-portrait?”
“Much better. I drop-kicked it.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because you obviously weren’t enjoying it. That’s a clear sign that you should be doing something else. I had a dream about you last night.”
“What was I doing?”
“Drowning in Long Island Sound. We both were, actually.”
“Did you rescue me?”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “No, you rescued me.”
“Glad to be of service,” she said huskily, her eyes softening.
“I believe in you, Des. This is a tough case, but you’ll crack it open.”
“Right now, I don’t see how.”
“Well, I do have another idea.”
“Somehow, I knew you would.”
“We go with my plan but we don’t tell Soave. I’ve got a tape recorder back at my place. We can stash it somewhere in the parlor with Poochie while she braces the suspects.”
“Mitch, we both know that’s not going to happen. I’d lose my job, my pension, my…” She drew back from him, stiffening. “You know who Poochie places that first call to, don’t you? That’s why you’re so sold on this.”
“Not really. But it wouldn’t surprise me if Poochie has her suspicions. She might even be protecting them out of family loyalty.”
