murdered. They came around asking questions but May and I-she lives next door-decided to keep our mouths shut. We saw it. We know who did it. But that woman was no better than she ought to be, and there was good reason.” “You witnessed a murder and didn’t tell the police?” Ernie asked incredulously.
She snapped her lips closed. “If I said that, I didn’t say it the way I meant. What I meant was, I have my suspicions and so does May. But that’s as far as it goes.”
Suspicions! She saw that murder, Vince thought. He also knew that no one would ever get her or her friend May to testify. With an inward sigh, he said, “Miss Durkin, you sit by the window. I have a feeling you’re a good observer. Did you see Erin Kelley leave with anyone that evening?”
“No. She left alone.”
“Was she carrying anything?”
“Only her shoulder bag.”
“Was it large?”
“ Erin always carried a large shoulder bag. She often carried jewelry and didn’t want anything that could be yanked from her hand.” “Then it was generally known she carried jewelry?” “I guess so. Everyone knew she was a designer. From the street, you could see her sitting at her worktable.”
“Did she date much?”
“She dated. But I wouldn’t say much. Of course, she might have been meeting people outside. That’s the way young people do it now. In my day, a young man picked you up at your home or you didn’t set foot out the door. It was better then.”
“I’m inclined to agree.” They were still standing in the hall. “Miss Durkin, I wonder if we might just step inside for a moment. I don’t want to be overheard.” “Your feet aren’t muddy, are they?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’ll wait right here, Miss Durkin,” Rodriguez promised. The apartment had the same layout as the one where Erin Kelley had lived. It was meticulously neat. Overstuffed horsehair furniture protected with anti-macassars, standing lamps with elaborate silk shades, polished end tables, framed family pictures of bewhiskered men and severe women. Vince was carried back to the memory of his grandmother’s parlor in Jackson Heights. They were not invited to sit down.
“Miss Durkin, tell me, what do you think of Gus Boxer?” A ladylike snort. “That one! Believe me, this is one of the few apartments he doesn’t barge into looking for one of his famous water leaks. And this is the one that has it. I don’t like that man. I don’t know why the management keeps him on. Goes around in those disgusting clothes. Surly. The only thing I can figure is that they get him cheap. Just a week before she disappeared, I heard Erin Kelley tell him that if she found him in her apartment again, she’d call the police.”
“ Erin told him that?”
“You bet she did. And she was right.”
“Was Gus Boxer aware of the amount of jewelry Erin Kelley handled?”
“Gus Boxer is aware of everything that goes on in this place.” “Miss Durkin, you’ve been very helpful. Is there anything else you can think of to tell us?”
She hesitated. “For a few weeks before Erin disappeared, from time to time a young fellow used to hang out across the street. Always when it was getting dark so you couldn’t see him clearly. Now I don’t know what he was up to. But that Tuesday night that Erin left here for the last time, I could make out that she was alone and carrying that big shoulder bag. My glasses had fogged up and I’m not sure if it was that same fellow across the street, but I think it was, and when Erin started walking down the block, he went in the same direction.” “You didn’t see him clearly that night, but you saw him other times. What did he look like, Miss Durkin?”
“Beanpole. Collar up. Hands in his pockets, kind of hugging his arms against his body. Thin face. Dark, messy hair.”
Len Parker, Vince thought. He glanced at Ernie, who obviously had the same idea.
I’ve been looking forward to this.” Darcy leaned back in the passenger seat of the Mercedes and smiled at Michael. “It’s been quite a week.” “So I gathered,” he said dryly. “It was all I could do to catch you in at home or at your office.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry about anything. It’s a great day for a ride, isn’t it?” They were on Route 202 nearing Bridgewater. “I never knew very much about New Jersey,” Darcy commented.
“Except comedians’ jokes. Everyone judges it by that turnpike strip with all the refineries. Believe it or not, it has a longer coastline than most other states on the eastern seaboard and has among the highest number of horses per capita in the nation.”
“So there!” Darcy laughed.
“So there. Who knows? With my missionary zeal, maybe I’ll make you a convert.”
Mrs. Hughes was bathed in smiles. “Oh, Miss Scott, I’ve been planning the nicest dinner since Doctor said you were coming.”
“How nice of you.”
“The guest room at the head of the stairs is all ready. You can just freshen up there after your ride.”
“Great.”
If anything, the day was even more perfect than last Sunday. Cool. Sunny. A hint of spring in the air. Darcy managed to give herself completely to the enjoyment of the canter.
When they stopped to let the horses rest, Michael said, “I don’t have to ask if you’re having a good time. It shows.”
The late afternoon turned sharply cooler. A fire had been laid in Michael’s study. The draft from the chimney was brisk, causing the flames to leap up. Michael poured wine for her, made an old-fashioned for himself, sat beside her on the comfortable leather couch, stretched his feet on the coffee table. His arm went around the back of the sofa. “Do you know,” he said, “I’ve spent more time this week thinking about what you told me. It’s terrible that a chance remark can hurt a child so much. But Darcy, can you honestly say that sometimes you don’t look in the mirror and see the fairest of all?”
“I certainly do not.” Darcy hesitated. “God forbid I should angle for a free consultation, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. No, never mind.” His hand ruffled her hair. “What? Shoot. Spit it out.” She looked directly at him, concentrating on the kindness in his eyes. “Michael, I get the feeling that you understand how devastating that remark was for me, but that you think I’ve been-how can I put this-subconsciously blaming my mother and father all these years.”
Michael whistled. “Hey, you’d put me out of business. Most people take a year of therapy before they come to that kind of conclusion.” “You haven’t answered me.”
He kissed her cheek. “And I don’t intend to. Come on, I think Mrs. Hughes has the fatted calf on the table.”
They got back to her apartment at ten o’clock. He parked the car and walked her to the door. “This time I don’t leave until I make sure you’re safely inside. I wish you’d let me drive you to Wellesley tomorrow. That’s a heck of a long round-trip for one day.”
“I don’t mind it. And I have to make a stop on the way back.”
“More garage sales?”
She did not want to talk about the Nan Sheridan pictures. “Something like that.
Another fishing expedition.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, tilted up her face, brought his lips down to hers. His kiss was warm but brief. “Darcy, call me when you get home tomorrow night. I just want to be sure you’re safe.”
“I will. Thank you.”
She stood inside the door until the car disappeared down the block. Then, humming, she ran up the
