spoke rapidly to a slender young officer who made quick notes. “Possible chisel marks apparent on the pedestal. No cement particles on balcony. Vase may have been loosened earlier, resulting debris removed. Hammer and chisel likely needed. A crowbar may have been used to tip the loosened vase.” His gaze swept the balcony. “No tools on balcony. Fingerprint and film the site.”
“Yes, sir.” The young officer hurried toward the stairs.
Chief Cobb looked at Kay. “Did you call 911?”
“I did not. I have no explanation for that call. I assume the call was made in error.” Her expression was bemused, a woman obviously puzzled.
I was indignant. She appeared determined to block any investigation into the attack on her.
Cobb drew a small notebook and a pen from a back pocket. “The call came from the house. Who’s staying here tonight?”
Kay folded her arms. “Since the call was in error, I fail to see the point of your question.”
“It’s a misdemeanor to place a false 911 call. Until the origin of the call is explained, the investigation will continue.” His gaze was unrelenting.
Kay shrugged and spoke rapidly, as if in a hurry to answer and be done with his questions. “Evelyn Hume. Diane Hume, James’s widow. Diane and James’s son, Jimmy. Laverne and Ronald Phillips, friends of Diane. Margo Taylor, the housekeeper, and her daughter, Shannon Taylor, occupy a small cottage on the grounds.”
“Why were you in the garden?”
“I read late. I wasn’t sleepy.” She sounded relaxed and untroubled. “I decided to take a stroll.”
Cobb looked both suspicious and puzzled. “Were you alone?”
“Yes. I walked down to the second terrace. It was lovely in the moonlight. I paused by the cul-de-sac that faces the pond. I heard a noise. I was turning to see and the vase landed behind me. My lucky night.”
Cobb glanced at her torn slacks. “How did you rip your slacks?”
Her eyes flared a little. If she’d faced the balcony and fallen forward, she would have been hit by the vase. “Everything happened so fast.” She made a deprecating gesture. “I suppose—yes, I think I was turning to look up and I realized something was falling and I whirled and stumbled toward the pond.”
“Did you see anyone on the balcony?”
“It was dark.”
“When you came to the front porch, you were with a tall, thin woman in black.”
“Laverne Phillips. She heard the crash and came to see.” The tension had eased from Kay’s body. She knew the interview was almost over. Laverne Phillips had seen me with Kay, but I supposed that Kay doubted the police would speak to Laverne. Or, if they did, Kay would deny Laverne’s claim of a redheaded woman. After all, the police would find it hard to prove I had been there. Kay obviously was willing to gamble.
Cobb flipped shut his notebook. His face creased in thought as he looked toward the steps leading down to the garden. “The balcony seems to be a site for accidents.” His gaze swung to Kay. “Were you here the night of June sixth?”
Kay’s face was somber. “No. I was at home.”
“Where is home, Mrs. Clark?”
“Dallas.”
“What brought you to The Castle?”
He could not have been as eager as I to hear her answer. If only I’d been more attentive when Wiggins had briefed me.
Her lips moved in a faint smile. “Business.”
He waited.
She met his gaze in silence.
How maddening.
“Very well.” His words were clipped. “Get in touch if you remember anything helpful.” He turned to walk away.
I seethed. Kay was not only foolish, but an ungrateful wretch. Refusing to tell the police that someone had toppled the vase placed her, in my view, in further danger. I’d saved her once. Who knew if I could manage to save her again?
If I’d been visibly present, I knew my eyes would be glinting and my lips pressed tight. But I wasn’t visibly present. So…I took two quick steps and plunged my hand into the capacious pocket where she’d dropped the note found on her pillow.
Kay made a gurgling sound in her throat. She seized my wrist.
Chief Cobb turned to look. His eyes widened.
As we struggled, she listed to her right. To an observer, Kay’s posture was odd.
“Let go,” she hissed.
“Mrs. Clark?” The chief took a step toward her.
She yanked herself upright, but maintained her tight grip on my wrist. “Sorry.” She was breathing fast. She made an effort to move forward, but I braced my feet against the balcony floor. She continued to appear strained. “I’m a bit unsteady. Shock.”
