“Can you get through to him?”
“Yes. Hold on.”
It was a full three minutes before Green got on the line. “Geoff, I’m in the middle of something. This had better be important.”
“It is. Very important. It has to do with the Reardon case. Frank, Robin Kinellen is staying at Jonathan Hoover’s home tonight.”
“Kerry told me that.”
“Frank, I’ve just learned that Jonathan Hoover gave that antique jewelry to Suzanne Reardon. He’d been having an affair with her. I think he’s our killer, and Robin is with him.”
There was a long pause. Then in an unemotional voice Frank Green said, “I’m in the home of an old man who specialized in repairing antique jewelry. He was murdered early this evening. There’s no evidence of a robbery, but his son tells me his Rolodex with the names of his customers is missing. I’ll get the local cops over to Hoover ’s place fast.”
98
Jonathan opened the door for Kerry. The house was dimly lit and very quiet. “She’s settled down,” he said. “It’s all right.” Kerry’s fists were hidden in the pockets of her coat, clenched in fear and anger. Still she managed to smile.
“Oh, Jonathan, this is such an imposition for you and Grace. I should have known Robin would be frightened. Where is she?”
“Back in her room now. Fast asleep.”
Am I crazy? Kerry wondered as she followed Jonathan upstairs.
Did my imagination go hog wild? He seems so normal.
They came to the door of the guest bedroom, the pink room as Robin called it, because of the soft pink walls and draperies and quilt.
Kerry pushed the door open. In the glow provided by a small night-light, she could see Robin on her side in her usual fetal position, her long brown hair scattered on the pillow. In two strides Kerry was beside the bed.
Robin’s cheek was cupped in her palm. She was breathing evenly.
Kerry looked up at Jonathan. He was at the foot of the bed, staring at her. “She was so upset. After you got here, you decided to take her home,” he said. “See, her bag with her school clothes and books is packed and ready. I’ll carry it for you.”
“Jonathan, there was no nightmare. She didn’t wake up, did she?”
Kerry said, her voice even.
“No,” he said indifferently. “And it would be easier for her if she didn’t wake up now.”
In the dim glow of the night-light, Kerry saw that he was holding a gun.
“Jonathan, what are you doing? Where’s Grace?”
“Grace is fast asleep, Kerry. I felt it was better that way. Sometimes I can tell that one of her more powerful sedatives is necessary to help ease the pain. I dissolve it in the hot cocoa I bring her in bed every night.”
“Jonathan, what do you want?”
“I want to keep on living just as we’re living now. I want to be president of the senate and friend of the governor. I want to spend my remaining years with my wife, whom I really do love, still. Sometimes men stray, Kerry. They do very foolish things. They let young, beautiful women flatter them. Perhaps I was susceptible because of Grace’s problem. I knew it was foolish of me; I knew it was a mistake. Then all I wanted to do was to take back the jewelry I had so stupidly given that vulgar Reardon girl, but she wouldn’t part with it.”
He waved the revolver. “Either wake up Robin or pick her up.
There isn’t any more time.”
“Jonathan, what are you going to do?”
“Only what I have to do, and then only with great regret. Kerry, Kerry, why did you feel you had to tilt at windmills? What did it matter that Reardon was in prison? What did it matter that Suzanne’s father claimed as his gift the bracelet that could have so desperately harmed me? Those things were meant to be. I was supposed to continue to serve the state I love, and to live with the wife I love. It was sufficient penance to know that Grace had so easily spotted my betrayal.”
Jonathan smiled. “She is quite marvelous. She showed me that picture and said, ‘Doesn’t that remind you of my flower-and-bud pin? It makes me want to wear it again. Please get it out of the safe-deposit box, dear.’ She knew, and I knew that she knew, Kerry. And suddenly from being a middle-aged romantic fool… I felt soiled.”
“And you killed Suzanne.”
“But only because she not only refused to return my wife’s gems but had the gall to tell me she had an interesting new boyfriend, Jimmy Weeks. My God, the man’s a thug. A mobster. Kerry, either wake up Robin or carry her as she sleeps.”
“Mom,” Robin was stirring. Her eyes opened. She sat up. “Mom.”
She smiled. “Why are you here?”
“Get out of bed, Rob. We’re leaving now.” He’s going to kill us, Kerry thought. He’s going to say that Robin had a nightmare and I came to get her and drove off with her.
She put her arm around Robin. Sensing something was wrong, Robin shrank against her. “Mom?”
“It’s all right.”
“Uncle Jonathan?” Robin had seen the gun.
“Don’t say anything else, Robin,” Kerry said quietly. What can I do? she thought. He’s crazy. He’s out of control. If only Geoff hadn’t gone to see Jason Arnott. Geoff would have helped. Somehow, Geoff would have helped.
As they were going down the stairs, Jonathan said quietly, “Give me your car keys, Kerry. I’ll follow you out, and then you and Robin will get in the trunk.”
Oh God, Kerry thought. He’ll kill us and drive us somewhere and leave the car and it will look like a mob killing. It will be blamed on Weeks.
Jonathan spoke again as they crossed the foyer: “I am truly sorry, Robin. Now open the door slowly, Kerry.”
Kerry bent down to kiss Robin. “Rob, when I spin around, you run,” she whispered. “Run next door and keep screaming.”
“The door, Kerry,” he prodded.
Slowly she opened it. He had turned off the porch lights so that the only illumination was the faint glow thrown off by the torch at the end of the driveway. “My key is in my pocket,” she said. She turned slowly, then screamed, “Run, Robin!”
At the same moment she threw herself across the foyer at Jonathan. She heard the gun go off as she hurtled toward him, then felt a burning pain in the side of her head, followed immediately by waves of dizziness. The marble floor of the foyer rushed up to greet her. Around her she was aware of a cacophony of sound: Another gunshot. Robin screaming for help, her voice fading into the distance. Sirens approaching.
Then suddenly only the sirens, and Grace’s broken cry, “I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you do this,” she said. “Not this. Not to Kerry and Robin.”
Kerry managed to pull herself up and press her hand against the side of her head. Blood was trickling down her face, but the dizziness was receding. As she looked up, she saw Grace slide from her wheelchair onto the floor, drop the pistol from her swollen fingers and gather her husband’s body in her arms.
99 Tuesday, February 6th
The courtroom was packed for the swearing-in ceremony of Assistant Prosecutor Kerry McGrath to the
