When she and Arnott were seated opposite each other on handsome morocco armchairs, she said, “Mr. Arnott, Robin suffered some facial injuries in a car accident several weeks ago and was treated by Dr. Charles Smith.”
Arnott raised his eyebrows. “The Dr. Charles Smith who was Suzanne Reardon’s father?”
“Exactly. On each of two follow-up visits, I saw a patient in his office who bore a startling resemblance to Suzanne Reardon.”
Arnott stared at her. “By coincidence, I hope. Surely you’re not saying that he is deliberately re-creating Suzanne?”
“An interesting choice of words, Mr. Arnott. I’m here because, as I told you on the phone, I need to know Suzanne better. I need to know what her relationship with her father really was, and so far as you knew it, with her husband.”
Arnott leaned back, looked up at the ceiling and clasped his hands under his chin.
That’s so posed, Kerry thought. He’s doing it to impress me.
Why?
“Let me start with meeting Suzanne. It would be about twelve years ago now. One day she simply rang the bell. I must tell you she was an extraordinarily beautiful girl. She introduced herself and explained that she and her husband were in the process of building a house in the neighborhood, that she wanted to furnish it with antiques and that she’d heard that I went with good friends to assist them in their bidding at auctions.
“I told her that that was true, but I did not consider myself an interior designer, nor did I intend to be considered a full-time advisor.”
“Do you charge for your services?”
“In the beginning I did not. But then, as I realized I was having a very good time accompanying pleasant people on these jaunts, warning them off bad bargains, helping them to get fine objects at excellent prices, I set a fair commission rate. At first I was not interested in becoming involved with Suzanne. She was rather smothering, you see.”
“But you did become involved?”
Arnott shrugged. “Ms. McGrath, when Suzanne wanted something, she got it. Actually, when she realized that flirting outrageously with me was only annoying me, she turned on the charm in a different way. She could be most amusing. Eventually we became very good friends; in fact, I still miss her very much. She added a great deal to my parties.”
“Did Skip come with her?”
“Seldom. He was bored, and frankly my guests did not find him simpatico. Now don’t misunderstand me. He was a well-mannered and intelligent young man, but he was different from most of the people I know. He was the kind of man who got up early, worked hard and had no interest in idle chatter-as he publicly told Suzanne one night when he left her here and went home.”
“Did she have her own car that evening?”
Arnott smiled. “Suzanne never had a problem getting a ride.”
“How would you judge the relationship between Suzanne and Skip?”
“Unraveling. I knew them for the last two years of their marriage. At first they seemed to be very fond of each other, but eventually it became clear that she was bored with him. Toward the end they did very little together.”
“Dr. Smith said that Skip was wildly jealous of Suzanne and that he threatened her.”
“If he did, Suzanne did not confide that to me.”
“How well did you know Dr. Smith?”
“As well as any of her friends did, I suppose. If I went into New York with Suzanne on days when his office was closed, he often managed to show up and join us. Finally, though, his attention seemed to annoy her. She’d say things like, ‘Serves me right for telling him that we were coming here today.’”
“Did she show him she was annoyed?”
“Just as she was quite public in displaying her indifference to Skip, she made no effort to hide her impatience with Dr. Smith.”
“You knew that she had been raised by her mother and a stepfather?”
“Yes. She told me her growing-up years were miserable. Her stepsisters were jealous of her looks. She once said, ‘Talk about Cinderella-in some ways I lived her life.’”
That answers my next question, Kerry thought. Obviously Suzanne had not confided to Arnott that she had grown up as the plain sister named Susie.
A sudden question occurred to her. “What did she call Dr.
Smith?”
Arnott paused. “Either Doctor or Charles,” he said after a moment.
“Not Dad.”
“Never. At least not that I recall.” Arnott looked pointedly at his watch.
“I know I promised not to take up too much of your time, but there’s one more thing I need to know. Was Suzanne involved with another man? Specifically, was she seeing Jimmy Weeks?”
Arnott seemed to consider before answering. “I introduced her to Jimmy Weeks in this very room. It was the one and only time he was ever here. They were quite taken with each other. As you may know, there has always been a formidable feeling of power about Weeks, and that instantly attracted Suzanne. And, of course, Jimmy always had an eye for a beautiful woman. Suzanne bragged that after they met, he started appearing frequently at the Palisades Country Club, where she spent a lot of her time. And I think Jimmy was already a member there as well.”
Kerry thought about the caddie’s statement as she asked, “Was she happy about that?”
“Oh, very. Although I don’t think she let Jimmy know it. She was aware that he had a number of girlfriends, and she enjoyed making him jealous. Do you remember one of the early scenes in Gone With the Wind, the one where Scarlett collects everyone else’s beaux?”
“Yes, I do.”
“That was our Suzanne. One would think she’d have outgrown that. After all, it’s quite an adolescent trick, isn’t it? But there wasn’t a man Suzanne didn’t try to dazzle. It didn’t make her very popular with women.”
“And Dr. Smith’s reaction to her flirting?”
“Outraged, I would say. I think that if it had been possible, Smith would have built a guardrail around her to keep others away from her, pretty much the way museums put guardrails around their most precious objects.”
You don’t know how close you are to the mark, Kerry thought. She recalled what Deidre Reardon had said about Dr. Smith’s relationship to Suzanne, that he treated her as an object. “If your theory is correct, Mr. Arnott, wouldn’t that be a reason for Dr. Smith to resent Skip Reardon?”
“Resent him? I think it went deeper than that. I think he hated him.”
“Mr. Arnott, did you have any reason to think that Suzanne was given jewelry by any man other than her husband and father?”
“If she was, I wasn’t privy to it. Suzanne had some very fine pieces, that I do know. Skip bought her a number of things every year for her birthday, and again for Christmas, always after she pointed out exactly what she wanted. She also had several one-of-a-kind older Cartier pieces that I believe her father gave her.”
Or so he said, Kerry thought. She got up. “Mr. Arnott, do you think Skip Reardon killed Suzanne?”
He rose to his feet. “Ms. McGrath, I consider myself very knowledgeable about antique art and furnishings. I’m less good at judging people. But isn’t it true that love and money are the two greatest reasons to kill? I’m sorry to say that in this case both of these reasons seem to apply to Skip. Don’t you agree?”
From a window, Jason watched Kerry’s car disappear down the driveway. Thinking over their brief exchange, he felt he had been sufficiently detailed to seem helpful, sufficiently vague so that she, like both the prosecution and defense ten years ago, would decide there was no purpose in questioning him further.
Do I think Skip Reardon killed Suzanne? No, I don’t, Ms. McGrath, he thought. I think that, like far too many men, Skip might have been capable of murdering his wife. Only that night someone else beat him to it.
