Keely shook her head. “Lucas doesn’t know anything about it. I’ve already asked him.”
“Keely, I’m sorry to have to say it. But there was a side of Mark, obviously, that we did not understand . . . any of us. There were always signs that he was not the man we thought he was. We just chose to ignore them.”
“What signs?” Keely cried. “I
was
. . . close to him. In every way. And I didn’t see anything.”
“I know. But when I think about it . . . the way he dropped Maureen to marry you. We chose, all of us, to see it as romantic—a young man had finally found his true love—but you could see it another way, too. I mean, he was taking a terrible risk. Maureen was the district attorney. It was a reckless thing to do. Anyone else would have moved away—avoided her. But not Mark. He liked taking chances,” Betsy said.
Keely was silent.
Betsy sat back in the chair. “You know, I remember once, when Mark was in high school. He was home for the weekend, and I thought he was up in his room studying. All of a sudden, the housekeeper came running downstairs to me, and she was in a flat spin. I couldn’t figure out what she was saying. I followed her up the stairs. Mark wasn’t in his room. She pointed to the window. So, I looked out the gable window, and he was standing out there on the roof. I told him to come in, but he just ignored me. I thought he might be on drugs or something. I told him it was dangerous and begged him to come inside, but he laughed. He said to me, “Danger improves the view.”
Keely and Betsy stared at one another. Keely thought about all that Betsy didn’t know. She didn’t know that Mark and Richard had killed someone, probably around that time. And eluded capture. Another dangerous game. Keely did not want to be the one to tell her.
“I threatened to call the police,” Betsy said. “That’s when he came in.”
Keely nodded slowly. “He bought a house with a swimming pool,” she said grimly, “when he didn’t know how to swim.”
“Exactly,” said Betsy.
“I didn’t think of it that way at the time,” Keely admitted.
“I’m afraid that now we have to,” Betsy said. “I think he needed that element of danger to feel anything.”
“You think he was having an affair with her,” said Keely flatly.
Betsy sighed. “It fits a pattern.”
Keely nodded.
“I’m so sorry about all this, dear,” said Betsy.
“Why should you be sorry?” Keely asked.
Betsy frowned. “Well, he was our . . . son. We mustn’t have set a very good example for him.”
“That’s not true,” said Keely. “You and Lucas—I only wish he had followed your example.”
There was a faraway look in Betsy’s eyes, as if some memory that came to mind had made her unbearably wistful. She shook her head as if to shake it off. “Obviously, we were not model parents.”
They sat silently for a moment, and then Keely stood up behind the desk and lifted her jacket off the back of the chair. “We got a bill at home from Collier’s Jewelry Store for a smoky quartz bracelet set in gold. Mark didn’t give that to you by any chance?”
Betsy shook her head. “No.”
“He didn’t give it to me, either,” said Keely “Now I’m wondering if he gave it to Maureen. I mean, that would prove it, wouldn’t it?”
Betsy sighed. “It would prove it to me.”
“Well, I have to know for sure,” said Keely.
“I don’t blame you,” said Betsy. “I would if I were you.”
A
s Keely stepped out of the elevator, she saw Maureen’s secretary, Josie, dab at her reddened eyes with a tissue, then stuff the damp tissue into the pocket of her cardigan sweater. The door to Maureen’s private office stood open behind her, no longer in need of a sentinel. Josie disappeared into the inner office as the phone began to ring.
Keely approached the door and saw Josie standing behind Maureen’s desk, which was still cluttered with her notes and belongings, as if Maureen had stepped away just for a moment rather than forever.
Josie was talking on the telephone, so Keely went and sat down in the chair in the outer office beside Josie’s desk. This was her second stop. She had gone to the police station first in search of an inventory of Maureen’s belongings from her house. Keely claimed helplessly that she needed to consult such a list because she had lost her smoky quartz bracelet there during last night’s incident. A cooperative sergeant said that he would not be able to show her the list, but he consulted it for her and found that no, a smoky quartz bracelet was not on it.
Keely felt like she had arrived at the end of the trail. If she could not find her answer here, she didn’t know where else to look. When she heard Josie hang up, Keely rose from the chair and walked to the open door of Maureen’s private office.
Josie looked up at Keely, trying to maintain a businesslike demeanor. “Mrs. Weaver,” she said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I overheard you talking about the funeral,” said Keely carefully, chastened by the sight of the secretary’s obvious grief. “I can see you’re upset.”
“I still can hardly believe it,” Josie admitted. “She’s going to be buried tomorrow morning, beside her twin brother.”
Keely nodded. “It’s terrible. They both died so young. Didn’t I . . .” she almost said
read
and then realized that Josie would probably be familiar with that horrible newspaper article. Quickly, Keely amended her question. “Wasn’t he . . . um. . . didn’t I hear he was murdered?”
Josie squinted at the photo of the redhaired children on the desk.
“Well, not murdered. I remember when it happened. I was just a kid myself at the time. Sean and some other boys were trick-or-treating. A bunch of teenagers were using firecrackers and Sean got too close. It was a terrible accident. Sean was only about ten when he died. Maureen could never really accept his death because it was so senseless, and she needed someone to blame. But it was just an accident. Still, he was her twin. She adored him.”
“It must have been very difficult,” Keely agreed.
Josie sighed. “Maureen experienced a lot of suffering in her life.”
“Tragic,” said Keely carefully. “I’m sure you heard that I found her . . . in the garage.”
“That’s what Detective Stratton said.” Josie shook her head sadly. “I can’t get over it. If only she had called me or someone else. She didn’t have a lot of friends. No other family. She was kind of a lonely person. But to do that, to kill herself . . .”
“Oh, I know. It’s a terrible shock,” Keely said sincerely.
Josie sighed. “Yes,” she said. “I guess you probably do.” Forcing herself-to be businesslike again, she said, “Mrs. Weaver, what can I do for you?”
“Miss Fiore . . .” Keely began.
Josie waited.
Keely had practiced what to say on the way over here in the car, but now that she was facing Maureen’s loyal assistant, it was more difficult than she had imagined. “Look, I realize that you were very fond of Miss Chase . . .”
“Yes, I was. She was a good person to work for,” said Josie evenly.
“I can see that,” said Keely. “And I’m sure that you were . . . close to her and probably knew a lot about what she was doing.”
Josie regarded Keely with narrowed eyes. “She kept me up to date,” Josie said.
“All right, look,” said Keely. “I’ll be honest with you. Someone told me something very disturbing. About Ms. Chase, and my husband . . .”
“Oh, no you don’t,” said Josie. “I’m not getting into this. Please, Mrs. Weaver. I have a lot to do here.”
“I know this is a bad time . . .”
Josie bustled around from behind Maureen’s desk and moved toward the office doorway, forcing Keely to back out into the reception area. “I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t have anything to tell you.”
“I need to know . . .”
“Why? What good would it do? It’s over. They’re both gone. It’s in the past.”
“I just need to know,” Keely pleaded. “Did you ever see her wearing a smoky quartz bracelet with gold links? Can you tell me that at least?”
“Don’t try to drag me into this. I can’t help you,” Josie insisted.
“It’s a simple question!”
“Anything I know about Ms. Chase stays with me. Unlike some people, I’m not going to stab her in the back just because she can’t defend herself anymore. Please leave me alone.”
Keely took a deep breath and turned away. She could see that the young woman had made up her mind. It wouldn’t help to badger her. She would have to find another way. “I’m sorry I bothered you,” she said.
Josie nodded curtly but did not reply. Keely hesitated, hoping for some sign that the secretary was weakening, but Josie’s shoulders were stiff. Sighing, Keely turned and headed toward the elevator. Then suddenly, she changed her mind and walked down the hall to the women’s rest room and went inside. Before she pushed the door open, she looked back. Josie was pulling the door to Maureen’s office shut and putting a key in the lock. She looked up grimly at Keely as she rattled the doorknob to be sure it was locked. Keely lowered her gaze and entered the rest room, took a paper towel, wet it, and patted her cheeks, her neck, and her forehead. She felt almost feverish from the tumult inside of her.
The secretary knows, but she’s not going to tell. The
answer is probably right there, in Maureen’s office, but it might as well be on Mars,
she thought.
As she came out of the rest room, Keely saw Josie close her desk drawer, pick up her pocketbook, and walk toward the elevator doors. Keely went over to the drinking fountain and bent over for a long drink, waiting until she heard the pinging that indicated that the elevator had arrived at the floor. She stood up and listened until she heard the heavy roll of the metal doors opening and then closing again. Keely walked back down the hallway. There was no one waiting outside the elevator. Josie Fiore had disappeared. Keely walked over to Josie’s desk and looked at the humming computer, an open box of powdered sugar doughnuts, the pile of folders. Keely wondered if maybe the key to Maureen’s office was in the desk drawer. Keely glanced up and down the hall, but the corridor was deserted. Quickly, she slipped into Josie’s seat and opened the desk drawer, her heart pounding. Her mouth was dry as she scanned the shallow, compartmentalized space. There were every sort of pen and pencil, erasers, rubber bands and a huge variety of clips, takeout menus and lottery tickets. But there was no key, or set of keys, in evidence.
Damn,
Keely thought.
She must have taken them with her. She knew I was still on the floor and she wasn’t about to take a chance.
There had to be another way to get into Maureen’s private sanctum. Keely opened her own pocketbook, took out her cosmetic bag, and unzipped it. She sorted through the contents until she came up with a metal nail file that she kept in the bag but rarely used.
Maybe this will work,
she thought. In the movies, people were always opening locks with a nail file. Keely looked up and down the hallway, and then, nail file in hand, she went to the door of Maureen’s office, inserted the file, and began to jiggle the handle. It wouldn’t budge. She crouched down, examining the doorknob and the keyhole, trying to figure out the angle at which to insert the nail file to pop the lock. So absorbed was she in her task that she did not notice, until it was too late, a young man in shirtsleeves, pushing a wheeled cart of mail, who had walked up behind her.
“Can I help you?” he asked suspiciously.
Keely jumped, pocketed the nail file, and then scrambled to her feet. “Oh, no,” she said. “I . . .” She stalled, knowing she had to make up an excuse now. “I dropped my . . . contact lens. I wonder if . . . um . . . you’ve seen Josie anywhere around.” Keely hoped the use of first names would convey a convincing familiarity.
“I imagine she’s out to lunch,” he said, carefully placing some envelopes down on Josie’s desk.
The young man disappeared down the hall. Keely felt humiliated, having been caught in that position. At least he didn’t call security on her.
This must be how a drug addict feels,
she thought,
nerves jittery, watching your back, and nothing matters but the fix, and you’ll do anything to get it. Get a grip, Keely,
she told herself.
Are you really willing to break into the district attorney’s office to try to find out if your husband was cheating on you? If you get caught rooting around here where you don’t belong, imagine the embarrassment of it. Or worse. And for what? To find out for certain that Mark was a cheater? You already know he was a liar—and possibly a killer. Is it so important to add adulterer to the list? Why don’t you just accept it and move on?
But it was so hard to accept. She and Mark had been happy. She had been so sure it was real. And all that time, had Mark longed for a more tempestuous life? Some danger, as he had said to Betsy, to improve the view? Keely felt as if everything she knew about her marriage had been undermined. Part of her just wanted to wallow in the humiliation of it, flog herself for having been so blind. But this was not, she thought, looking around her, the time or the place to do that.
Replacing the file in her pocketbook, she started to get up from Josie’s desk. As she swung her pocketbook over her shoulder, it toppled the pile of manila envelopes that the young man had just delivered. As Keely hurried to put the pile back in order, she saw the words
re: Weaver and Bennett
scrawled at the top of one of the envelopes. Her hand hesitated over it for a moment, and then she dislodged it from the others and stared at it. The envelope was closed with a folded metal hasp. She stood there holding it for a moment. Despite her resolve to
end her snooping, she could not turn away from it. She sat back down, unfolded the hasp, and pulled out the papers inside. Keely was startled to recognize the page of Richard’s note which Dylan had printed, the page she had brought to Maureen Chase yesterday. There was a paper clip at the top of the page and handwriting scrawled on the bottom of the note.
Keely frowned and tried to decipher the handwriting. Maureen’s penmanship was difficult to read. “Josie,” it said. “Write me up . . .” Keely could not read the rest of the sentence.
Keely folded the page over and examined the page beneath it. The report was marked, at the top, as “remains, unidentified,” and it emanated from the medical examiner’s office. The report described the bloated remains of a twenty-two-year-old pregnant Caucasian female. The body was found by a fisherman out on the bay in an advanced state of decomposition. Keely looked at the date of the report. The remains were found eighteen years ago.
Keely folded the page back, then looked at Richard’s note again and Maureen’s scrawl beneath it. Shock raced through her as she understood the connection. Maureen had seemed cynical and uninterested when Keely brought her the letter. But obviously, she had taken it seriously. Richard’s letter had caused Maureen to search the files for unsolved cases.
My God,
Keely thought, rocking back in Josie’s chair. Maureen Chase believed what Richard said in his suicide note. She had pulled this case as a result of reading the letter. But why this case? The note hadn’t said anything about a young woman. Was it possible that there were no other unsolved murders at the time when Richard and Mark were friends and living in this town? What else could it be?
Keely lifted the M.E.’s report. Beneath it there was an exhumation order. Keely looked back at the first page, and now, she was able to decipher Maureen’s illegible scribble.