'Not tonight,' I said. 'Let's go.'
I drove, and Al sat beside me juicing up his cigar.
'Tell me what happened,' I asked him.
'Not a lot to tell,' he said. 'Gillsworth was at your place, talked to his wife on the phone, told her he'd see her soon. He says he drove directly home. Says he found the front door open although she had told him all doors and windows were locked. She was facedown in the sitting room. Signs of a violent struggle. Spatters of blood everywhere. Baskets of flowers knocked to the floor. A grandfather clock tipped over. It had stopped about ten minutes before Gillsworth arrived.'
'My God,' I said, 'he almost walked in on a kill-ing.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Did he see anyone when he drove up?'
'Says not.'
'Anything stolen?'
'Doesn't look like it. He can't spot anything missing.'
'How's he taking it?'
'Hard. He's trying to do the stiff-upper-lip bit, but it's not working.'
'She was a lovely woman, Al.'
'She's not now,' he said in the flat tones he used when he wanted to conceal his emotions.
When we entered the house, mother was waiting in the hallway. She wore a nightgown under a tatty flannel robe, and her feet were thrust into fluffy pink mules. She glanced at Sgt. Rogoff in his uniform, then put a hand against the wall to steady herself.
'Archy,' she said, 'what's wrong? Where is father? Has he been hurt?'
'He's all right,' I said. 'He's at the Gillsworth home. Mother, I'm sorry to tell you that Lydia has been killed.'
She closed her eyes and swayed. I stepped close and gripped her arm.
'A car accident?' she asked weakly.
I didn't answer that. One shock at a time.
'Father will be staying with Gillsworth tonight,'
I said. 'I came back with the sergeant to pick up some papers.'
She didn't respond. Her eyes remained closed and I could feel her trembling under my hand.
'Mother,' I said, 'it's been a bad night, and the sergeant and I could use a cup of black coffee. Would you make it for us?'
I hoped that giving her a task would help, and it did. She opened her eyes and straightened.
'Of course,' she said. 'I'll put the kettle on right away. Would you like a sandwich, sergeant?'
'Thank you, no, ma'am,' he said gently. 'The coffee will do me fine.'
Mother bustled into the kitchen, and I led Rogoff into my father's study. The letter was still lying on the desk blotter.
'There it is,' I told Al. 'Both the Gillsworths handled it but not my father and not me. Maybe you'll be able to bring up some usable prints.'
'Fat chance,' he growled, sat down behind the desk, and leaned forward to read.
'That was the third letter received,' I said. 'The first was destroyed by Gillsworth. The second is upstairs in my rooms. I'll get it for you.'
A few moments later I returned with the second letter in the manila folder. I did not bring along the photocopy of Peaches' ransom note. Willigan had told us, 'No cops!' And he was paying the hourly rate.
Rogoff had his cigar burning and was leaning back in my father's chair. He read the second letter and tossed the folder onto the desk.
'Ugly stuff,' he said.
'A psycho?' I suggested.
'Maybe,' he said. 'Maybe someone trying to make us think they were written by a psycho.'
'What will you do with the letters?'
'Send them to the FBI lab. Try to find out the make of machine used, the paper, the ink, and so forth. See if they've got any similar letters in their files.'
'Even right-hand margins,' I pointed out.
'Oh, you noticed that, did you? Got to be a word processor or electronic typewriter. We'll see. How about that coffee?'
When we entered the kitchen, mother was filling our cups. And she had put out a plate of Ursi Olson's chocolate-chip cookies, bless her.
'The coffee is instant,' she said anxiously to Rog-off. 'Is that all right?'
'The only kind I drink,' he said, smiling at her. 'Thank you for your trouble, Mrs. McNally.'
'No trouble at all,' she assured him. 'I'll leave you men alone now.'
We sat opposite each other at the kitchen table, hunching over our coffee and nibbling cookies.
'You suspect the husband, don't you?' I said.
The sergeant shrugged. 'I've got to, Archy. Sev-enty-five percent of homicides are committed by the spouse, a relative, a friend, or acquaintance. These cookies are great.'
'She was alive when he left here, Al,' I reminded him. 'He talked to her on the phone. You think he drove home and killed her?'
'Doesn't seem likely, does it?' he said slowly. 'But what really helps him is that there were no bloodstains on his clothes. I told you that place looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood everywhere. The killer had to get splashed. What was Gillsworth wearing when he left here?'
I thought a moment. 'White linen sports jacket, pale blue polo shirt, light gray flannel slacks.'
Rogoff nodded. 'That's what he was wearing when we got there. And he looked fresh as a daisy. His clothes, I mean. Absolutely unstained. And he sure didn't have enough time to change into identical duds. Also, we searched the house. No bloodstained clothes anywhere.'
We sipped our coffee, ate more cookies. The sergeant relighted his cold cigar.
'So Gillsworth is off the hook?' I asked.
'I didn't say that. He's probably clean, but I've got to check out the timing. A lot depends on that. How long did it take him to drive from here to his place? Also, what time did the victim leave the seance? How long would it take her to drive home? What time did she arrive? Was someone waiting for her? There's a lot I don't know. After I find out, maybe Gillsworth will be off the hook. Right now he's all I've got.'
I stared at him. 'Al, is there something you're not telling me?'
'Would I do that?'
'Sure you would,' I said. 'Look, I know this is your case. You wear the badge; you're the law. You can order me to butt out. You're entitled to do that. But I'm telling you now I'm not going to do it. That woman meant a lot to me. So no matter what you say, I'm going to keep digging.'
He looked at me strangely. 'That's okay,' he said. 'You stay on it. Just keep me up to speed-all right?'
We finished our coffee, went to the study where Rogoff collected the letters. When we came out into the hallway mother was waiting with a small overnight bag.
'I packed father's pajamas, robe, and slippers,' she said. 'And his shaving gear and a fresh shirt for tomorrow morning.'
I'll never cease to be amazed at how practical women can be, even under stress. I imagine that when the flood came and Noah was herding everyone aboard the ark, Mrs. Noah plucked at his sleeve and asked, 'Did you remember to empty the pan under the icebox?'
Rogoff took the little valise and promised to deliver it to father. This time I drove the open Miata; after inhaling Al's cigar, I wanted fresh air-lots of it.
We didn't speak on the trip back to the Gillsworth home. But when we arrived and the sergeant climbed out, he paused a moment.
'Archy, I know Roderick Gillsworth was your father's client. Was Mrs. Gillsworth?'
'Yes, she was.'
'I hear she had plenty of money. Did your father draw her will?'
