Deadly Fall (38 page)

“Said when? Have you talked to him recently?”

Hayden realigned the manuscript. He rolled the corner of the top sheet, which was covered with damp, brown smudges. “I met Kenneth a few days after the shooting, at the debating club. He said they took care of it. I didn't ask questions. I think we both wanted to avoid the whole thing. We avoided each other from then on, too.”

“I hadn't known you played chess until Kenneth mentioned it at the funeral.”

“I don't. To this day, the sight of a pawn makes me nauseous.” Hayden added that he assumed, or convinced himself, that taking care of it meant they had called the police, who judged the incident an accident, which he'd thought it was.

“Wasn't it?” Paula said. “They didn't know the guns were loaded.”

“They knew.”

“In Felix's story—”

“The boy told them he'd loaded the guns.”

“Why?”

“Who knows? He was a troubled kid. Probably self-destructive.”

“I mean, why would the others fool around with loaded—”

“Young people can be stupid, especially in groups when they're doped on drugs.”

“I can't believe Callie—”

“That's why she never told you about it, Kenneth thinks. She was so ashamed she could barely discuss it with him.”

Paula banged her mug on the desk. “The day after Callie's murder, the cops questioned you, in this very room. Did you tell them any of this?”

“I didn't think it was relevant.”

“Had they known, they would have grilled that whole group. Felix, for one, might have caved. It would have saved him.”

“Don't you think I feel guilty about that?” His jowls quivered. “I swear to God, it didn't occur to me this old event was connected to Callie's murder until two days ago, when I saw that monkey-shaped candle at your house. It reminded me of a game . . .”

Monkey in the middle, he had said. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. His body had been shaking. Why hadn't she clued in? She got up and tottered on rubbery legs to the corner windows. Fourteen stories down, street lights fanned south and west through blackness. They tapered at the suburban fringe. She heard Hayden's footsteps behind her.

“When the cops were here, it did cross my mind to tell them.” His low tones flowed with his onion breath to her ears. “To be honest, I was ashamed, too, by my weakness and not doing anything. I knew there was something fishy about Kenneth's ‘take care of it' remark.”

“Your response was normal.”

“Would you have puked and run away?”

She pictured Felix dead on his recliner chair. “I might have puked at that young age.”

“And told your parents or someone about it, or more likely, marched back into the house and helped deal with the mess.”

“I don't know.” Even at twenty, she couldn't imagine herself not getting involved. “My way's not the only way.”

“You do give that impression sometimes,” he said.

Her stomach knotted. Hayden's words echoed her daughters' complaint that she expected everyone to live up to her standards. Paula had always answered, “What's so wrong with that?” What was wrong was that Hayden had withheld information from the cops and Callie had kept the grubby crime secret for thirty-one years because Callie and Hayden believed, if Paula knew, she would judge them harshly. And she might have. Wasn't she judging them now? What if one of her daughters got into a jam some day and, fearing her judgment, didn't come out in the open or turn to her for help?

Hayden segued to his first meeting with Callie. A few months after the shooting, she showed up to watch a debate. Kenneth introduced her as his girlfriend. “I remember wondering how a geek like him got someone so hot.” Hayden next saw Callie about five years later, at a charity ball, shortly after his marriage. She looked stunning in her off-the-shoulder dress, her hair up in a French twist, jewels dripping from her ears.

“Don't tell me you were in love with her, too?” Paula said.

“Callie wasn't my type. When she saw me, she turned white. It was so obvious my wife later asked if I'd dated her in university. As if I could have gotten a girl like that.”

“Thanks.”

He fluffed his gray sideburns, mock-preening. “Now that I'm older and distinguished, I got someone better; for a while, at least.”

Paula's face warmed from his compliment and vulnerability. Hayden had withheld his information, in part, because it might have cost him her respect. Were she more forgiving of human failings, he might have come forward, preventing Felix's death. She deserved a share of his blame for that, although she couldn't help being who she was. Could she?

Hayden figured Kenneth had told Callie about his presence at the shooting and seeing him reminded her of the dreadful event. “It still didn't occur to me that Callie had been there. That was probably why she avoided you all summer, so she wouldn't have to deal with me, the ghost from her past, the witness.”

The ring of the telephone ripped through the room. Both waited for his voice mail to pick up. This would explain why Callie had chatted so intently with Hayden's nephew the night Paula and Hayden met, at the theater. Callie's avoidance tactic had left Paula alone with Hayden to talk and connect. Strange, how that had worked out.

The shrill rings ended and gave way to the hum of florescent lights. Hayden said Paula's talk of wanting to poke around Felix's house made him worry she would poke too much. Last night, he went to Kenneth's to find out if the old shooting was related to Callie's murder or not. Kenneth agreed to tell him the truth in exchange for his not going to the cops.

“I'm surprised he'd be so forthcoming.” She stepped back for a better look at Hayden's face for signs he was lying.

“He views you as an old friend and wants to protect you,” Hayden said. “If Kenneth has a driving trait, I'd say it's loyalty.”

Kenneth had been loyal to Callie to the end, even though she dumped him for Dimitri.

“You'll be pleased to know that Sam is innocent.” Hayden stifled a grimace. “Sam couldn't afford to live away from home with the group. Normally, he and Anne would have been out on a date Saturday night, but he was filling in for someone at his restaurant job. Lucky stiff.”

Paula's heart relaxed. She was glad Sam had no part in the shooting. Did this mean she was still judging the others for their involvement? “I gather Callie was threatening to come out with the truth?”

“Kenneth blames Dimitri and his religion for dredging up her guilt. There was her health scare last winter.”

“A shadow on her mammogram.”

“Her big breakup with Dimitri that sent her career plans down the tube. Kenneth wonders if my sudden reappearance pushed her over an edge.”

“Good God.”

“It all prompted her to confide her worries to Felix. She remembered the boy's name. Kenneth said none of the others did. That was thoughtful of her.” Hayden wiped sweat from his flushed forehead. “Felix did an Internet search and found a website set up by a man looking for his long lost uncle, whose details fit the boy. Callie begged Felix to fly with her to Nova Scotia to meet the family. Felix waffled. Kenneth didn't know any of this before Callie's murder. Felix told him . . .”

“. . . when he stopped by Kenneth's house the night before he died.”

“Kenneth believed, at first, Callie's murder was random. That's why he didn't come forward with this information.”

“So he says.”

Hayden picked up the coffee thermos, shook it, and returned it to the bookcase. “Felix and Callie talked to Anne, who said going to the family would be admitting to a crime. The family might contact the police, who would then arrest them all. Callie was confused. Kenneth agrees with you that, at the end, she was coming to you for advice.”

“I wonder what I would have said.” Paula leaned on the bookcase, toppling Hayden's photographs. She liked to think she would have listened sympathetically and offered to fly to Nova Scotia with Callie, if that's what Callie really wanted. But would she have taken the time from her busy life with Hayden, work, and the move to her new home? She re-set the photographs. “After Callie's death, Felix ultimately decided to do the right thing and come out with the truth in his newspaper column.”

“And after Felix's death, Kenneth and Anne met. I think there's a reason Kenneth told me about this tête-à-tête and it explains the type of people you're dealing with.” Hayden shuffled back to his desk, shoulder hunched.

Paula followed, her legs tired from standing. She sipped the remnants of her coffee: sweet, cool mud.

Hayden clasped his hands on the manuscript. “At their meeting, Kenneth and Anne agreed on a party line: Felix panicked over the old crime coming out and killed Callie. It's possible.”

“I don't believe it.”

“You know what? Neither do I. During the tête-à-tête, they discussed the friend who had been the boy's lover.”

“Merritt in the story?”

“He became a doctor.”

“So that part of Felix's story is true.”

“After university, the guy got involved in
CUSO
and other third world benevolent organizations. Kenneth suggested to Anne that if the doctor had murdered Callie, he would have used a medicine to cause a neater death. An injection in the arm or a few drops in a drink can cause a death that appears so natural it might pass an autopsy exam. Anne agreed that would be a smarter method than guns.”

Paula shoved away her mug. Was that sugar in her coffee or had he sweetened it with something else? She picked up Hayden's music box.

“I think he told me all that as a threat: if we pursue this, you and I will be bumped off by a medicine that won't be taken as murder.”

“You think Kenneth would do this?”

“Or Anne. Whoever was Callie's and Felix's killer. He or she has a huge motive now to keep the old crime quiet.”

“Anne has access to her husband's heart and diabetes medication.”

“So does Kenneth. He's Anne's husband's best friend and could easily help himself to something from his medicine cabinet.” Hayden glanced at his office door. “The buzz from my colleagues in criminal law is the cops don't have enough evidence to arrest anyone for Callie's murder; they need a confession, which they aren't going to get from Kenneth or Anne. Both are logical, strong, and cool. Why would they confess, when any half-baked lawyer could prove the other one had motive and opportunity for the crime? All the lawyer needs is a reasonable doubt.”

“Shouldn't the cops at least try?” A mechanical sound startled her. She had absently turned the music box key. The instrumental played “What a Wonderful World.”

“I gave Kenneth my word,” Hayden said. “We shook hands. In hindsight, I probably should have walked away and gone to the cops. Kenneth's a shrewd negotiator.”

“Is a handshake legally binding?”

“I trust Kenneth if he's on my side, but wouldn't want to be the person who betrayed him. He hinted, if I did, he and Anne would say I assisted with the body disposal. Who's left to argue with that?” His voice was hoarse, his sweaty hair stuck up in spikes.

“You have no alibi for Callie's murder.” She returned the music box to his desk. “You were here working alone that morning.”

“A good lawyer might imply I hooked up with you to keep tabs on Callie.”

She stroked the coffee mug handle.

“I knew Callie had phoned you that week. If I was in the loop, I would have guessed the reason. I'd know I had to act before she got to you and brought it into the open. It's a neat scenario.”

Too neat. She caught herself sipping from the mug; she clunked it back to the desk. Hayden's story was ringing true and yet she didn't trust him. All she had was his word he hadn't been involved in the crime. For all she knew, he and Kenneth had cooked up that chess-playing story and both participated in the shooting, in accordance with Felix's story. She supposed Sam was off the hook, swimming in ignorance. Hayden wouldn't lie to protect him.

“You mentioned a conspiracy,” she said. “Kenneth, Anne, you, but why Dimitri and Sam? Is Dimitri protecting Anne, his mother?”

“Sam and Dimitri are unaware of the old crime and are going along with the Felix murder/suicide verdict so the shit doesn't fall on Dimitri.”

“If they knew others have motives as strong as Dimitri's . . . I should tell Sam.”

“No. If he runs to the cops—”

“I'll tell him not to mention your involvement.”

“Do you have such control over Sam?

She had no control. She sunk back in her chair. “Sam might not go to the cops. He doesn't care about justice. He proved that by not telling them about Callie's involvement with Dimitri and proved it again by letting his best friend take the rap for her murder. All he wants is assurance his son is innocent.”

“If Sam has no faith in his son, that's his problem.”

“I honestly believe he will be satisfied with knowing the truth.”

“Funny, that's what I thought about you.” Hayden swiveled toward the stack of papers and files on his side table. “I'm not getting any more work done tonight. Might as well go home. Can I give you a ride?”

Paula stiffened. “My car is parked out front.”

“I'll walk you to it.” He passed her the manuscript. “I expect you'll want this back.”

She returned it to her briefcase. “I don't suppose Kenneth told you about Felix's novel.”

“He may not have known about it.” He caught her expression. “And don't you ask him about it either. I repeat: stay away from that group.”

Paula drove through
the empty downtown streets, thinking it wouldn't be fair to Hayden to give the cops his information. He had put himself at risk by going to Kenneth for her sake. It would also be pointless. Best case scenario: the cops investigate and arrest all three—Kenneth, Anne, and Hayden—who hire sharp lawyers to muddy the waters so much that everyone gets off, after years of stress and career ruin for the two who were innocent of Callie's murder. One of those two was probably Hayden. Did it matter who did it? The public was safe; there would be no more killings unless Anne or Kenneth or, she had to admit, Hayden panicked and killed the others off. Could the innocent two be sure that would never happen? Might a murderer wait until this all blew over and seize the first opportunity to bop off the co-conspirators with a needle poke? Why risk a death-bed confession? Murder got easier each time and this person had killed twice, or three times if you count the accidental shooting of the boy, if that was an accident. Knowing their guns were loaded, one of them might have fired on purpose, out of anger at the boy's taunts. And that person might view outsiders with knowledge as a continuing threat: Hayden, her, and even Isabelle. Eliminate anyone who might one day testify. As long as the killer was out there, Paula would never feel safe. If that killer was Hayden . . .