‘Thanks for the warning. I’ll remember that.’
I didn’t have to remember it for long.
The resident trooper showed up at the farm not ten minutes after I got home from the Rustic. I was busy poking around in the freezer for something to heat up for dinner. Found a container of caldo verde, a Portuguese potato and kale soup with spicy sliced linguica sausage that Merilee had made a giant vat of over the summer when she’d grown enough kale to feed the entire city of Cleveland. It wasn’t quite dark out when his cruiser came up the gravel drive and Jim Conley get out of his cruiser, put his hat on his head, squared his shoulders and strode toward the mudroom door.
I opened it before he had to knock. ‘Greetings, Trooper. I sincerely hope you’re not here to arrest me.’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Conley removed his hat as he came inside, smiling faintly. ‘Lieutenant Tedone asked me to stop by. He was hoping to swing by himself but he had to report to his captain up at Major Crime Squad headquarters in Meriden.’
‘Can I offer you a beer?’ I asked him, wondering if Merilee had any Pabst stashed in the old fridge down in the basement.
‘I’m all set, thanks,’ he said politely as Lulu sniffed carefully at his brogans and trouser cuffs, snuffling and snorting. He watched her, his jaw muscles flexing. ‘Why is she doing that?’
‘She’s a scent hound. It’s how she gets to know people. If she’s bothering you …’
‘No, no. It’s fine.’
‘Would you care to move into the parlor? I’ll build us a fire.’
‘I don’t want to keep you, thanks,’ he said, sitting down at the kitchen table. ‘I know you’re still recovering from that concussion. The lieutenant just asked me to fill you in on what we know about Michael Talmadge that we didn’t know this morning.’
I sat down at the table with him. ‘OK …’
‘They opened the safe in his office. Found some deeds and legal documents. No money or valuables of any kind. Also, a thorough room-by-room search of the house was conducted by Connie Pike. I accompanied her. I’ve known Connie forever and she made it clear to me that she’d feel a lot less qualmish if I was with her.’
‘And …?’
‘She said nothing seems to be missing. It was …’ Conley trailed off, rubbing the back of his head. ‘A curious experience, I must say.’
‘Curious how, Trooper?’
‘For a man of his immense wealth, Michael had very few possessions. His bedroom closet, for instance, was nearly empty. He had four identical gray suits and a topcoat hanging in there. And a rack with a half-dozen of those clip-on ties he wore. On the floor he had two pairs of identical wing-tip shoes. That was it. Nothing else. In his dresser there were maybe ten white dress shirts, underwear, socks – all of it of modest quality. I’m talking J.C. Penney’s, Sears. He had two V-neck sweater vests. No other sweaters. No sport shirts, sweatshirts, jeans – nothing like the sort of thing you or I might wear when we’re unwinding.’
‘Evidently he never unwound.’
‘There are six bedrooms upstairs, each with a private bath and a view of Hamburg Cove – with the exception of his. He preferred the only upstairs bedroom that doesn’t have a view of the cove. It’s also considerably smaller than the others. He insisted that his security team stay in the nicer rooms when they were there. Each man had his own room. Nice, considerate fellows, Connie said. Did their own laundry. Cooked their own meals and did the dishes themselves. Really went out of their way to make no extra work for her.’
‘What about Pinkie?’
‘Connie said the dog was well trained and no bother at all. He had free run of the grounds but one of the guys always made sure to pick up after him so that Earle, the gardener, wouldn’t have to.’ Conley scratched the back of his head again. ‘Downstairs, there’s a formal dining room that would seat two dozen people easily, and a huge, paneled den with a wet bar. Connie said that Michael never so much as set foot in either room. He preferred the pocket-sized den off of the kitchen where he’d have his dinner on a fold-up tray so that he could watch TV while he ate.’
‘What did he watch?’
His lean face creased into a faint smile. ‘I asked her that, too, because I couldn’t imagine. You’ll never guess in a million years.’
‘The MacNeil-Lehrer Report?’
‘No.’
‘Jeopardy?’
‘No.’
‘Family Feud?’
‘No again. Believe it or not, he liked to watch a situation comedy from the seventies called The Odd Couple with Tony Randall and Jack Klugman.’
‘Based on the Neil Simon play. Sure.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that. Don’t get to the theater much. What I do know is that he owned a boxed set of all five seasons on cassette, which I suppose qualified as his only personal indulgence, and that Connie swore to me he must have seen every episode fifty times.’
‘Did she ever hear him laugh?’
‘Uproariously.’
‘How odd. He didn’t strike me as someone who had even a nodding acquaintance with a sense of humor.’
‘I’m with you there. And get this – he was such a huge fan, he mentioned to Connie a few days ago that it was time for her to start thinking about planning his special menu for Happy Felix Unger Day.’
‘Sorry, it must be my head wound. You lost me back there somewhere.’
‘No, that one threw me, too. Apparently, if you watch the show, a narrator says at the beginning of each episode that Felix Unger’s
