Diane: 'I'll kill you!'
Delaney could believe that imagined dialogue; the lady was capable of it. The lady was also capable of lying glibly when it was required. He had asked her if she was surprised by the clause in her husband's will about his patients' bills. No, she had said, she wasn't surprised, because she was aware of what was in his will. And that, Delaney figured, was worldclass lying.
Thinking of what all this meant, he trundled into the kitchen and pulled a long white apron over his heavy, threepiece cheviot suit. The apron had KISS THE COOK printed on the front. Then he set to work preparing dinner for his family.
Since it was Saturday night, they would have hot dogs with toasted rolls, baked beans with a chunk of salt pork and an onion tossed in for flavor, and both hot and cold sauerkraut.
By nine o'clock the Delaneys' brownstone was jumping.
Peter and Jeffrey had arrived, bringing along a new board game called 'Love at First Sight,' in which you threw dice to move from square one (Blind Date) to the winning square (Happy Marriage).
At about the same time the boys showed up, Boone and Jason arrived and were whisked into the study, the door firmly closed against the noisy gaiety in the living room.
'Tis the season to be jolly,' Delaney said ruefully.
'And they're doing it right here tonight. Before you tell me how you made out, let me fill you in on what I've been doing.'
He told them why Diane had revised her statement about her husband's mood swings in the past year and the fact that Simon added the codicil to his will just three weeks before his death. He also discussed Dr.
Samuelson's curious relationship with Diane.
'I called him,' he said.
'He agreed to see me tomorrow at ten. I think I'll lean on him.'
'You want me to come along, sir?' Boone asked.
'No,' Delaney said.
'Thanks. But I think this better be a one-on-one. Also, he knows I have no official position; I'm just a friend of the family, so to speak.
Maybe he'll be a little more open and spill. You've got to realize that everything I've told you won't make the DA lick his chops, but I think it's all evidence that we're heading in the right direction. Now let's hear what you dug up today. You both look like canary-eating cats, so I hope it's good news.'
'The first thing we did,' Boone said, 'was to check the Manhattan garage where the Ellerbees kept their cars. It's just a parking garage, no servicing and no repairs. I don't think they even have a screwdriver in the place, let alone a ball peen hammer. So we drove up to Brewster. We went by the Ellerbee home. She had a crowd up there today, all women from what we could see. Maybe it's her garden club or something.
Anyway, we stopped at a phone, and I called and got the houseman. I said I was from Al's Garage, soliciting business.
He said, sorry, they dealt with May's Garage and Service Station, and were perfectly satisfied. I thanked him, and we went over to May's. It was that easy. Jose, you take it from there.'
'We find the owner,' Jason Two said, 'a fat old tub named Ernest May. We flash our tin and ask him if he's lost a ball peen hammer in the last three months or so. His jaw dropped a mile, and he looks at us like we're from Mars or something.
'How the hell did you know that he says. Well, it comes out that, yeah, a ball peen hammer turned up missing about three months ago. It was the only ball peen in the joint, and he had to go out and buy a new one. He can't put an exact date on when he lost the hammer, but he figures it was early in October. Sergeant?'
'We asked him who had access to the tools in the garage,' Boone said,
'and he showed us around. Hell, everyone had access to the tools; they were laying all over the joint. It could have been one of his mechanics, a customer waiting to have a car serviced, or maybe just a sneak thief.
I wish we could have brought you more, sir, but that's about it. At least we know there's a ball peen hammer missing from a Brewster garage.
Delaney pulled at his lower lip.
'This Ernest May-he knows Diane Ellerbee?'
'Oh, hell, yes,' the Sergeant said.
'She's a good customer.
Brings in all her cars to gas up. And for tune-ups. He put in new plugs in that Jeep station wagon not too long ago. The way he talked, she's at his place almost every weekend she's up there, for this or that.'
Delaney nodded.
'You know where the ball peen hammer is right now?
Boone?
One guess.'
'At the bottom of that stream that runs through Ellerbee's property.'
'Right,' Delaney said decisively.
'Under the ice. And getting silted over.'
'A search warrant?' Jason suggested.
'We could get some frogmen up there with grapples.'
Delaney shook his head.
'There's not a judge in the country who'd sign a warrant on the basis of what we've got. We can't tie her directly to boosting the hammer. We could scam it and send in frogmen claiming they were from some phony state environmental agency wanting to test the water or the streambed or some such shit. But even if they found the hammer, what good would it do us? Tainted evidence. And after being under running water for two months, would there be identifiable fingerprints or bloodstains? I doubt it.'
'Goddamn it!' Boone burst out.
'It's there, I know it is.'
'You know it,' Delaney said, 'and I know it, and Jason knows it. So what?
It's not going to put Diane in the slammer.
'What does that mean, sir?' Jason said anxiously.
'We're not going to bust her?'
'No,' Delaney said slowly, 'it doesn't mean that. But right now we have nothing that would justify arrest, indictment, or conviction. There's got to be a way to destroy her, but at the moment I don't know what it is.'
'You think if we brace her--2' Boone said, 'I mean really come on hard-she might crack?'
'And confess? Not that lady. You know what she'd say? 'I don't have to answer any of your questions.' And she'd be exactly right.
'Snookered,' Jason Two said.
'No,' Delaney said.
'Not yet.'
By midnight, the brownstone had emptied out: Boone and Jason gone, Peter and Jeffrey departed. The girls were up in their bedroom, doing their hair and giggling. Delaney made his nightly rounds, checking locks on doors and windows.
Then, wearily, he dragged himself to the master bedroom, slumped on the edge of his bed, and tried to get up enough energy to undress.
Monica was at the vanity, brushing her hair. He watched her a long time in silence, the pleasure of that sight restoring his strength.
'You want to tell me about it?' she asked without turning around.
'Sure,' he said, and related everything that had happened since he had first decided on Diane Ellerbee's guilt.
'You can't arrest her?' Monica said.
'Not on the basis of what we've got so far.'
'But you're certain? Certain she did it?'
'I am. Aren't you?'
'I guess,' she said, sighing.
