The detective stirred restlessly. 'Have you investigated many homicides?'
'A few.'
'Then you know that even when they're solved there are always a lot of loose ends. I've never worked a case that was absolutely complete with everything explained and accounted for.'
'Another beer?' she asked.
'Why not?' he said. 'I've got nothing to do this afternoon but crack four other killings.'
'That much on your plate?'
'It never ends,' he said wearily. 'There's a lot of dying going around these days.'
Dora went to the bar and brought back two more cold bottles.
'Why do I get the feeling,' she said, 'that you don't totally believe your own story of the way it happened.'
'It's the official line,' he said.
'Screw the official line,' she said angrily. 'This is just between you and me, and I'm not about to run off at the mouth to the tabloids. What do you think?'
He sighed. 'A couple of things bother me. You ever investigate a stabbing?'
'No.'
'A professional knifer holds the blade like a door key, knuckles down. He uses an underhanded jab, comes in low, goes up high, usually around the belly or kidneys. It's soft there; no bones to snap the steel. The blow that killed Starrett started high and came down low into his back. An amateur did that, holding the knife handle in his fist, knuckles up. And it was amateur's luck that the blade didn't break on the spine or ribs. It sliced an artery and punctured the heart-more luck.'
'For the killer, not Starrett.'
'Yeah. Ordinarily one stab like that wouldn't kill instantly.'
'Man or woman?'
'A man, I'd guess. That shiv went deep. Plenty of power there. It cut through overcoat, suit jacket, shirt, undershirt, skin, flesh, and into the heart.'
'A long blade?'
'Had to be. You talk to any of the family yet?'
'The son,' Dora said. 'Clayton.'
'What was your take on him?'
'I got the feeling he wasn't exactly out of his mind with grief.'
Wenden nodded. 'I thought he was controlling his sorrow very well. From what I've been able to pick up, he and his father didn't get along so great. Clayton became president and CEO of Starrett Jewelry when the old man retired, and I guess they didn't see eye-to-eye on a lot of business decisions. Plenty of screaming arguments, according to the office staff. But that's not unusual when a father gives up power and a son takes over. The heir usually wants to do things differently, try new things, prove his ability.'
Dora sighed. 'I hate these family affairs. They always turn out to be snarls of string. It's so sad. You'd think a family would try to get along.'
The detective laughed. 'Most homicides are committed by a family member or a close friend. You talk to the attorney yet?'
'No, not yet.'
'A nice old guy. He was Lewis Starrett's lawyer from the beginning.'
'Who inherits?' Dora asked.
'The wife,' Wenden said. 'For tax reasons. About eighty million.'
'Wow! Nothing to the son or daughter?'
'Well, you say they'll each be getting a million in insurance money. And I guess Lewis figured Olivia would leave everything to the children when she shuffles off.'
'What's she like?'
'Olivia?' He grinned. 'I'll let you make up your own mind. The daughter, Felicia, is the one to look out for. She's off the wall.'
'How so?'
'Crazy. Runs with a rough downtown crowd. But I'll say this for her: She seems to be taking her father's death harder than any of the others.'
'What about Clayton's wife?'
'Eleanor? A social butterfly. She's on a zillion committees. Always planning a party for this charity or that. She loves it. Maybe because she can never wear the same dress twice. Listen, I've got to split. Where do you live?' 'Hartford.' 'Going home for the weekend?'
'I doubt it. My husband may come down if he can get away.'
'What does he do?'
'He's a dispatcher for a trucking company. Works crazy hours.'
'Well, if he doesn't show up, maybe we can get together for a pizza.'
She stared at him. 'I told you I was happily married.'
'And I heard you,' the detective said. 'What's that got to do with sharing a pizza?'
'Nothing,' Dora said. 'As long as we keep it on a professional level. Maybe we can compare notes and do each other some good.'
'Sure we can,' Wenden said. 'Here's my card. If I'm not in, you can always leave a message. Thanks for the lunch.'
'My pleasure,' Dora said and watched him move away, thinking he was an okay guy but he really should get his suit pressed and his shoes shined. She knew he had to deal with a lot of scumbags, but he didn't have to dress like one.
CHAPTER 4
The flagship store of Starrett Fine Jewelry, Inc., was located on Park Avenue just south of 57th Street. It occupied one of the few remaining town houses on the Avenue in midtown Manhattan, surrounded by steel and glass towers. The baroque six-story structure, built in 1896 as the family home of a shipping magnate, was designed by a student of Stanford White, and the exterior had been cited by the Landmarks Preservation Commission.
The jewelry selling area was on the ground level, with silverware, crystal, and china on the second. The third and fourth floors were designers' studios and shops for engraving and repairs. Executive offices filled the top two stories. Starrett's main workshop for the crafting of exclusive designs was in Brooklyn. The company also purchased quantity items and gold chains from independent suppliers in Taiwan and South Korea.
In addition to New York, Starrett stores were located in Boston, Chicago, Beverly Hills, San Francisco, Atlanta, Dallas, Palm Beach, London, Paris, Zurich, Hong Kong, Honolulu, Cancun, Rome, and Brussels. Starrett did not have a mail order catalogue but sometimes sent favored customers drawings of new designs before they were made up and offered to the general public. Many of these were one-of-a-kind pieces: brooches, bracelets, rings, necklaces, tiaras.
Generally, all the Starrett stores, worldwide, offered the same merchandise, although the mix was often varied. The general manager of each shop ordered the items from New York that he thought would sell best in his area. In addition, every Starrett store had its own workshop and was encouraged to produce jewelry on special order for valued clients, usually personalized items designed to the customer's specifications.
During the last year, Clayton Starrett's second as president and chief executive officer, he had replaced the general managers of nine of the sixteen Starrett stores. Some of these men (and one woman) had been with the company for ten, fifteen, twenty years, and their termination had been the cause of the violent disagreement between Clayton and his father.
The late Lewis Starrett claimed they were all experienced, loyal employees who had proved their competence, and firing them was not only an act of ingratitude but, more important, would have an adverse effect on revenues and net profits.
