The Tree of Death

I took a breath. “The arbol de la vida is an ancient Mexican symbol. Some of them are quite beautiful. Most being created today, however, are a far cry from the originals. They are garish, unaesthetic. Tourists buy them, as they do those terrible paintings on velvet. They make a mockery of a sacred thing.”

“And you felt this particular tree was a mockery.”

“Yes.”

“How is it that Mrs. Cunningham presented this mockery to the museum?”

“Isabel meant well. She liked the tree. Some people do like them, you know.”

“But not you.”

“Most curators would have questioned the wisdom of displaying it.” What were these questions leading to?

“Then, what you’re saying, Miss Oliverez, is that Mrs. Cunningham has bad taste.”

“No.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. “She’s not an art expert, that’s all. She didn’t realize it would reflect badly on our collections to include such a tree. But that doesn’t mean she has bad taste. If everyone were an art expert, we wouldn’t need curators. We’re here to select, to show the public the most definitive pieces… Oh, Por Dios!”

“What’s the matter?”

“This has nothing to do with Frank’s murder.”

“I’ll decide that, Miss Oliverez. If everyone were a crime expert, there wouldn’t be policemen.”

My temper flared. What right did he have to parody my statement about curators?

Kirk evidently saw the anger on my face. He smiled nastily. “You have quite a temper, don’t you?”

“Only when I’m pushed.”

He nodded and looked down at his paper. “All right. If this tree was such a mockery, as you put it, why would Mr. De Palma want to display it?”

“To please Isabel, of course.”

“Was he fond of Mrs. Cunningham?”

“I don’t understand.”

“He must have been fond of her, to want to please her by displaying an ugly tree of life.”

The man was baiting me, and that made me even more angry. “He was trying to please her because she has money. Surely you’ve heard of the influence of money, Lieutenant?”

He didn’t rise to that. Instead, he made a note on his legal pad and said, “What did you tell Mr. De Palma when he said you must display the tree?”

“I told him we shouldn’t.”

“And?”

“He insisted, so we put it on display.”

“Is that all you told him, Miss Oliverez?”

I felt a nervous tightening in my stomach. “There wasn’t anything else I could tell him. He was director here.”

Kirk paged through the pad. “Let me read to you from my notes on my interview with Mr. Leary: ‘Frank told Elena to do it, to set the tree up. She blew her top. She has quite a temper, but I’ve never seen her that mad. She called Frank a son of a bitch. She told him someone ought to kill him.” “ Kirk looked up. ”Is that what happened, Miss Oliverez?“ His mild brown eyes watched mine.

Oh, Vic! Why had he told Kirk about that? “It… happened,” I said.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“There’s nothing else to say. It happened. But I didn’t mean it. You say things in anger, but you don’t carry them out.”

He made a notation on the pad. “Let’s talk about the alarm system here. I take it you’re familiar with it.”

“Yes.”

“How does it work?”

“It’s a simple household system. If anyone opens any of the doors while it’s on, a loud bell rings.”

“What about the windows?”

“They’re not on the system. Since they’re all barred, it isn’t necessary.”

“How many doors are wired?”

“Three. The front, the loading dock, and the courtyard outside Frank’s office.”

Kirk frowned. “What about the doors to the central courtyard?”

“Not necessary. The only way into the courtyard is through the front door. The rear courtyard, the one outside Frank’s office, opens to the parking lot, as you’ve seen. The entry is protected by the padlocked gate.”

“All right.” He doodled on his pad. “How do you set the alarm?”

“Two ways. If you’re inside, there’s a toggle switch beside each door. Flipping it sets the alarm on all three doors. From the outside you have to use a key. That does the same thing-sets all three, no matter which door you use.”

“And the keys? Who has them?”

“There are only two. Mine and Frank’s.”

“And where is yours now?”

“With me.” I patted the pocket of my skirt.

“Have you had it with you all the time period we discussed, from yesterday morning to now?”

“Yes.”

“And Mr. De Palma’s key. Where is it, do you know?”

I paused, picturing Frank’s office. “On the hook on his office wall. Frank was absentminded, so he kept both the alarm key and the key to the courtyard-gate padlock on a large ring, which he hung up when he came to work.”

“You’re certain there are no other keys?”

“Yes. When we moved in here there was quite a… discussion about who should have keys. We decided, for safety’s sake, to limit the number.”

“What about copies? Could any have been made?”

“No. It’s not the type of key locksmiths have masters for. You have to go to the manufacturer, and they’ll provide them only on the request of specified people.”

“Who?”

“Which people, you mean? Me, Frank, and our board chairman, Carlos Bautista. We would all have had to okay the request.”

“And no such request has ever been made?”

“Never.”

Kirk leaned back in the desk chair-my desk chair-and looked at me silently. “All right. Let’s go over what happened when you left last night.”

I sighed. “I went to Frank’s office and asked if he was going to lock up or if I should do it. He told me to go ahead.”

“Where were his keys then?”

“On the hook.”

“And then what did you do?”

“I set the alarm and left.”

“There was no one else on the premises but Mr. De Palma?”

“No one. They’d all left at least fifteen minutes before.”

“So Mr. De Palma was locked in here alone?”

“Yes.”

Again Kirk was silent.

“Lieutenant Kirk, I don’t see why it matters what happened last night. Frank had already arrived here before I did this morning. Whoever killed him probably came in with him.”

Kirk leaned forward, his imperturbable brown eyes on mine. “The coroner’s man estimates that Mr. De Palma died early yesterday evening, possibly as early as five-thirty.”