Show of Evil

pantry. Delaney, it seemed, had a passion for LeSueur asparagus and Vienna sausages. She went back to the bedroom, checked through his desk and drawers and found nothing of interest. She found an ashtray, carried it back to the bedroom, and sat down on the end of the bed facing the closet. She decided to have a cigarette before she left. Smoking was not permitted in company vehicles.

Stupid, she thought. But at least I got this little junket out of the way.

Did Edith Stoddard's sense of betrayal over losing her job really precipitate Delaney's death? she wondered anew. It was a persistent question in her mind. The other facts in the case seemed blatant, but the motive seemed so bland. But then she remembered reading about other cases not dissimilar, like the postman who lost his job, went back to the post office with an assault weapon, and killed nine people before turning it on himself. Perhaps it wasn't as bland as she thought.

Thinking about Edith Stoddard, she stared into the closet. From where she was sitting, she could see the entire area, which was adjacent to, and formed a small hallway into, the bathroom; a large closet, empty except for a suit, a couple of shirts on hangers, a bathrobe, a pair of leather slippers, and a pair of black loafers.

But something else caught her attention. As she stared at it, she realized that the closet wall was off balance. One side of the closet was deep, stretching to the wall, the other side was just wide enough to hang a suit. It was at least two feet narrower.

She stared at it for a full two minutes, her old instincts working, a combination of paranoia and nosiness that had made her the best prosecutor of her time.

'Why is that closet off centre,' she said aloud to herself.

She went into the bathroom and checked to see if there were shelves behind the wall, but the commode was located behind it and that wall was tiled. She went back into the bedroom, entered the closet and turned on the light. Only a woman would be curious about this odd bit of interior architecture, she thought. Only a woman would be concerned about the loss of that much closet space. She rapped on the wall with her knuckles, thinking perhaps it was a riser, but the tapping was hollow.

A hollow space, two feet deep and five feet wide? A safe, perhaps? Secret files, something incriminating? Something she could use in court to taint the victim? She traced the seam where the two walls joined but found nothing. She stood at the juncture of the two walls and shoved against one of them.

It gave a little. She shoved harder. It bowed a little at the top.

The wall panel was not nailed; it was locked in the middle. She stepped back and once again scanned the seams, top, bottom, and sides. It was a door. Now she had to figure out how to open it.

She ran her fingertips around the doorsill and along the carpeting. Nothing.

She sighed and sat back down on the end of the bed and stared some more. She looked at the clothes rod. There were no clothes on the narrow side of the closet. She went back in, reached up, and jiggled the rod, then twisted it. The rod was threaded. She turned it four full turns before the whole end of the rod pulled away from the wall. She laid it on the floor and examined the receptacle. There was a button recessed in the threaded rod holder. She pushed it, heard a muffled click, and then the panel popped open an inch or two. A light blinked on inside the smaller closet. She swung it open.

Her breath came in a gasp. Her mouth gaped for a moment as she stared with shock and disbelief at its contents.

'My God,' she whispered.

Then her eyes moved down to the floor of the secret compartment.

The gun.

Twenty-nine

Jane Venable arrived at Vail's office at exactly ten o'clock. The lift doors parted and she stepped out, decked out in an emerald-green silk suit that made her red hair look like it was on fire. She had a tan Coach leather shoulder bag slung over one shoulder. She strode towards his office with the authority and assurance of a show horse prancing past the judges' stand. Everyone in the office suddenly found something to do that would put her directly in their line of sight. Every eye followed her to Naomi's desk.

'Hi,' she said with a bright smile. 'You must be Naomi. I'm Jane Venable.' She thrust her hand out.

Vail came out of his office and greeted her, ignoring the momentary smirk Jane flashed at him, a look Naomi did not miss. Marty, she thought, you're dead in the water. Vail had included Venable in the special meeting because she was an integral part of the emerging Stampler crisis. They entered his office.