'Who then?' Steinberg asked in a voice whose fury dwarfed his own earlier rage.
'I don't know – the door was locked, bolted, and the windows… Jesus, I don't know…'
'Curt,' Dennis said, 'get him his robe.'
'And call the police,' Steinberg added. When Sid looked up at him, he was surprised to find that the man's eyes were filled with tears, and the loose flesh of his face was trembling as if with a life of its own.
What a lesser man you will be without Sid. And without Donna. Even your loyal Jew shows signs of failing. Coming closer now, Dennis. Taking away your loved ones, wearing you away bit by bit. Remember the song we sang together? -
'And though the minutes wear away the years,
Time can never dry up all my tears.
And every tear that falls, as long years roll,
Like rain on rock, does wear away my soul.'
Not Davis's best, was it? But fitting, quite fitting.
A suitable epitaph.
The king is dying. Long live the Emperor.
Scene 6
'This time there's no doubt,' Dan Munro said. 'It's a case of homicide.' He smiled grimly at Dennis Hamilton across the top of his littered desk. 'We're going to have to recheck Mr. Harper's alibis for the other deaths as well. It's very possible that he's the one who's given you all this trouble.'
'No,' Dennis said. 'You're wrong.'
'Really?' Munro tilted his head, trying not to act too cocky. 'You think this was a suicide too?'
'That's not what I meant, and you know it. I mean that it wasn't Sid who was responsible… if anyone was.'
'And what makes you think that?'
'Because he… well, he just wasn't. Sid couldn't have had anything to do with those things. There's not a mean streak in him.'
Munro sighed. 'Mr. Hamilton, face the facts. Harper's suite door was bolted from the inside – not just locked, but bolted. All the windows were locked, there was nobody in the suite but him and the victim, and I've got three witnesses, and you're one of them, who say that the two of them had an altercation just an hour or so before you went over and found them. So what's the logical conclusion to draw?'
'I still tell you that Sid didn't do it.'
'The man had the means and the opportunity, Mr. Hamilton, and I have no doubt we'll find a motive as well.' Munro stood up. 'Thanks for your cooperation, sir. Harper will be transferred to the county prison in the morning, and a judge will determine if bail can be set.'
'Do you think it will be?'
'In a case like this, I doubt it.'
John Steinberg came into Munro's office next. After going over the ground that he had on the scene, Munro asked Steinberg if he knew of any reason why Donna Franklin would be angry at Sid Harper.
Steinberg cleared his throat and looked toward the ceiling. 'Sometimes Donna would get upset when Dennis required Sid's services at… inopportune times.”
“Like when they were in bed together.'
'Yes.'
'How long had they been lovers?'
'Years.'
'Did that bother you?'
'No.' Steinberg, Munro thought, had paused just a bit too long.
'Were you ever involved with Miss Franklin?'
Steinberg fixed Munro with a look of withering scorn. 'In what way?' The words dripped acid.
'Romantically.'
'No. Never.'
'But you were close?'
'She was very much like a daughter to me.' Steinberg's voice grew softer. 'I did love her in that way.'
'Were you happy with the situation between her and Harper?'
'My happiness had nothing to do with it. It made Donna happy. That was sufficient.'
'Did they quarrel much?'
'Not that I ever knew of.'
'Could there be any possibility that Miss Franklin wanted a permanent relationship and Harper didn't?'
'I don't know.'
'Was there any indication that she could have been pregnant? Morning sickness? Whatever?' 1
'That's highly unlikely. Miss Franklin had a tubal ligation several years ago.”
“Oh. Oh, well, the autopsy will turn that up.' Munro sat for a moment shaking his pen, trying to decide what to ask next. 'Mr. Steinberg,' he finally said, 'Mr. Hamilton sincerely believes that Harper is innocent.' He waited, but Steinberg said nothing. 'Just between us, what do you think?'
'I really don't know. I thought that's what the police were for.'
'You know the circumstances. You see any other possibility?'
'That's not what I am paid for. It's you, I believe, who gets a check from the town. Do you have any other questions? It's very late,' Steinberg said, glancing at the wall clock, whose hands read one-thirty in the morning.
'No. Not right now.'
Steinberg stood up. 'Robert Leibowitz, who will be Mr. Harper's attorney, is flying down from New York. I trust that he will not be questioned further until Mr. Leibowitz arrives.'
'Of course not.' God damn, Munro thought, I wish I didn't feel like a kid in the principal's office around this guy. He stood up as well, thanked Steinberg, and was left alone with his thoughts and a feeling of triumph.
He knew it. He knew all along that there was more to that fucking theatre than met the eye. Accidents, bullshit. He had known that it was only a matter of time before a flat-out obvious-as-hell murder took place. But now the question was, had Harper done it all? Did his original alibis stand up? And if they didn't, why had he done the nasties? Other than the crime of passion/lovers' quarrel that had killed the Franklin woman, the other deaths didn't fit into any pattern that he had ever heard of. Serial killers didn't coolly and methodically snuff their coworkers over a period of months – that was stupid. It would be impossible to evade capture. If you had a lust to merely kill people, you offed strangers. Hell, you could do that for years and not get caught – the Green River killings were proof of that.
As for a highly motivated series of killings, Munro could understand why Harper might want to kill Hamilton's wife, but why the assistant stage manager? And for crissake, why a janitor? Just to throw the attention off the intended victim? That was right out of Agatha Christie, and as improbable in reality as it was clever on paper.
Still, with all the doubts, one thing was for damn sure – he had the guy who killed Donna Franklin. Locked doors, caught with the corpse, no doubt about it. He had even fucked her before he killed her, if the wadded towel in the bed was any indication. Hell, maybe he'd even done it again while he was strangling her. The State Police lab could determine that.
The son of a bitch was caught with his pants down, all right. It would take more than a fancy New York lawyer to get him out of this. Yeah, Donna Franklin's killer was safely under lock and key, and the royal bastard would stay there.
Scene 7
What a horribly vacillating thing the mind is, Dennis Hamilton thought, lingering over the breakfast he had made himself. His thoughts had swung between two poles innumerable times that morning. At one moment he was certain that the Emperor had killed Donna Franklin, and at others he believed that it might really be Sid.
In his way Sid had loved Donna, and to Dennis's best knowledge he had never committed a violent act in his life. Still, the unpleasant and newly discovered truth remained that anyone was capable of murder. What Robin had planned to do to Ann was proof of that.
