“That didn’t bother you twenty-five years ago.”
“Not sure I knew that twenty-five years ago. Which is pretty odd in itself. Like you or Sandy were trying to avoid pointing a finger at somebody else.” Tim reviewed the mounting evidence against Lidia.
“What about my fingerprints? And semen?”
“Dita’s girlfriends all said you were skivvying up there every night to make out with her.”
Sofia pushed Cass’s arm. “Just tell him.”
Cass closed his eyes. “I don’t believe this. And if I tell you, who do you tell?”
Tim offered the deal Evon and he had already agreed upon. Hal was entitled to know the details of his sister’s death. The rest-phony noses and switching places-was an interesting sidelight, but not essential for Kronon. That stuff could stay right here.
“Assuming one thing,” Tim said.
“Which is?” Cass asked.
“That nobody else got murdered.”
Cass started to say something in protest, then shushed himself and scanned the rest area. He was in his blue suit pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. His striped Easton rep tie, which he wore every day, was probably in his jacket, which was on the back seat of Sofia’s car.
“I can only tell you for sure what I know.”
Tim said that would make a good start. Cass pressed his face into his palms to give himself the heart to begin.
“The night Dita died,” he said, “Paul and I left Zeus’s picnic together and went to the Overlook and sat on the hood of my car and drank a few beers. We actually talked mostly about our love lives. There was a lot of ribbing until I told him I was going to ask Dita to marry me, which, to put it mildly, was not well received. Around 10, since we weren’t talking to each other any more, we headed back to our parents’. Our dad was in a state. My mom had told us that Teri would take her home, but she hadn’t turned up and Nouna Teri hadn’t seen her since six. I checked our answering machine, thinking maybe she’d called our number for some reason. Instead, I had this hysterical message from Dita, who said my mother had been there belting her around.”
“That was the call from her phone to yours?”
“Right.” Cass nodded, a weighty motion involving his whole upper body. Lie number one, Tim thought. Cass told the investigators that Dita’s only message was a request for him to call, which he’d immediately erased. “Paul hopped in my dad’s car to look for my mom and I sped over to Dita’s. I climbed up to her room and let myself in through the French window. I didn’t even notice the broken pane until I was inside, when I saw the blood. It was all over the place, on the wall and the window. Dita was on the bed and there was a ton of blood there, too, soaking the pillow and smeared on the headboard. And she was dead. I checked her pulse. She was already cool to the touch.”
“And you realized your mother had killed her?”
In reply, Cass grimaced and seesawed his shoulders. He took a second to give each shirt cuff another roll.
“I definitely didn’t like the way it looked,” he answered.
“Which is why you didn’t call 911 or wake up the Kronons.”
“Right. Which is why I just jumped down off the balcony-”
“Leaving the footprints-”
“I guess. And I ran back to the car. She had to be on foot. I figured that without a car, she’d walk down to Greenwood Village and call my dad to pick her up, so I went in that direction. About halfway there, I saw her. A hundred people must have driven past her. She was sitting up but somehow she’d gone down on the other side of a culvert. This bloody towel was still around her arm. She’d gotten blood all over her face somehow, and she was pretty much out of it. I had her home in twenty minutes.”
“That’s the type-B blood we found in your car?”
“It was Mom’s, right. My father was insane, of course, but Paul and I knew that taking her to the hospital was as good as turning her in. So we called Sofia.”
Tim turned to Sofia, who, up until now, had been listening as she held on to Cass’s arm. Now she frowned. Even twenty-five years later, she was probably embarrassed at having had a part in fooling Tim. Nonetheless, she shared her part forthrightly.
“Lidia had severed the radial vein. No one would answer when I asked how she’d done it, but I knew they were afraid of taking her to the ER. Both boys were claiming Mickey’s illness had made her phobic about hospitals. In any event, closing the wound wasn’t a problem, but the amount of blood she’d lost concerned me. I thought she was on the verge of hypovolemic shock, which could have caused heart failure. Her BP, all things considered, wasn’t horrible, but I told them if she developed a high fever, or any one of ten other symptoms, she had to be transfused. I came back the next day to check on her. She wasn’t good but she was better.”
“And did she admit she killed Dita?” Tim asked.
Cass wound his head about vehemently.
“Never. Absolutely never. She was literally too confused to talk about it for a few days. She admitted that she ‘slapped’ Dita-Mom’s word”-Cass made the quotation marks in the air-“and agreed that Dita might have ‘bumped’ her head, but she said Dita was still shouting at her when she left. Of course, once we knew Dita died of an epidural hematoma, that made sense. But Lidia absolutely denied that she took hold of Dita’s jaw or whammed her skull against the headboard. Nothing like that. No beating.”
“And what did you think of that?”
“We believed, Paul and me, that that was what she wanted to think. And you know, the blood loss could have affected her memory.”
“Did you think she’d killed Dita?” Tim asked again.
“Our mom had quite a temper. ‘
“Of course, a prosecutor probably wouldn’t have much doubt. There were a thousand people to testify how odd it was for Lidia to have shown up at that picnic, let alone end up in Dita’s room. Plenty of folks knew my mom was convinced that my father would never talk to me again, if I married Dita. And my mom had given up any hope of convincing me to break it off, so there was a reason for Dita and her to get pretty heated.
“But even assuming a prosecutor believed my mom’s version, that she hit Dita once and Dita knocked her head accidentally-the best Lidia would have come out with was a plea to aggravated assault. With a death associated, especially the daughter of a guy who was on the verge of becoming governor, Paul and I both expected that she’d catch serious pen time. Lidia said she’d kill herself before she ever set foot in prison. She never backed away from that. I mean, people do that, don’t they?”
“Threaten it? Often. Carry through? A lot less.” Tim had seen a few suicides on the way to the slammer, young men all with obvious worries, a couple of them addicts, too, who couldn’t face withdrawal.
“But even that wasn’t what made it complicated,” Cass said.
“Sounds complicated enough,” Tim answered.
Cass gave him a small, sick smile, somehow meant to be at Brodie’s expense.
“Suppose,” said Cass, “Mom came forward and told the truth. Gave you guys the same story she told us, and you took that as gospel. Where did Dita’s other injuries come from? I’m the only other person who was in Dita’s room before Zeus found her dead. My fingerprints are there, my footprints are in the flower bed. Dita’s message said she was calling the police. My brother and my dad would have to admit that I headed over to the Kronons’. The prosecutors would say I got into a struggle with Dita to keep her from turning my mom in. Or because she was supposedly going to drop me.”
Tim drew back. “You were afraid we’d charge both of you?”
“Why not? Plead my mom to the assault and give her immunity and force her to testify against me. Or better yet, let two different juries sort it out-immunize both of us and call me to the stand in my mom’s trial and her in mine. Pretty, right? Mother against son, and son against mother. They could do it. Each of our stories implicated
