The Red Queen Dies (12 page)

“Cheers,” Thornton said, tipping his beer bottle toward them.

McCabe echoed his toast with her glass bottle of water. Mike did the same with his cola.

“Getting to why we are here, Mr. Thornton—”

“Ted, please, Hannah. Let's not stand on formality. I want to do all I can to help.”

“Then … and forgive me for being formal. We're trained to do that. Cop thing. Then, Mr. Thornton, first, if we could ask you about Wednesday evening. Ms. Jessup mentioned to someone she spoke to that morning that she was planning to have dinner with you and your fiancée.”

“Oh, now you see if I had known that was what you wanted to know about … You talked to Bruce, right?”

“Yes, and he said if we wanted to drop by, you would be able to see us.”

“Umm, and you … you didn't ask him about the dinner on Wednesday evening?”

“No, we thought it best to speak to you directly. We have some other questions, as well.”

“I see. Well, about the dinner, Hannah—you don't mind if I call you Hannah even if you won't call me Ted?”

“I actually prefer to be called Detective McCabe, Mr. Thornton.”

“Pretty and feisty,” Ted Thornton said.

McCabe decided to let that go. “About the dinner. You were—”

“Yes, I'm afraid we didn't.… I mean, it didn't come off. Something came up and I had to get back down to the City. I spoke to Vivian around noon and asked if we could reschedule for the next evening.”

“And did she agree?” McCabe asked.

“She said that if I intended to come back to Albany, we would be crossing paths. She was planning to take the train down to the City on Thursday morning.”

Confirming what she told Meredith Noel about her plans, McCabe thought.

“So you went down to the City on Wednesday afternoon and came back—”

“The next morning. Took the train down and then my fiancée and Bruce and I came back in the airship.”

“So you all … your fiancée, Ms. Nichols, Mr. Ashby, and yourself … were here in Albany until what time on Wednesday?”

“Oh, Bruce wasn't here. He had some things to do for me down in the City. He alerted me to a situation that I needed to handle in person.”

“And you went down to handle it?”

“On the one-twenty train. We were on the way to the station when I spoke to Vivian.”

“Was Ms. Jessup upset that you had to cancel dinner?”

“We're old friends. She understood.” Thornton took a sip of his beer. “Actually, she said she had some business of her own that she could get taken care of that evening.”

“Business?” Baxter said. “Did she mention what this business was?”

Thornton shook his head. “I wish to God she had. But someone knocked on her door.”

“The door of her hotel room?” Baxter said.

“Yes, that's where she was when I reached her. She said, ‘That must be room service. I ordered lunch in so that I could get some work done.' And I said, ‘Then go have your lunch. See you soon.'” He sighed. “That was the last time we spoke.”

“The work Ms. Jessup mentioned,” McCabe said, sliding back into the conversation. “Do you know what she was working on?”

“Her play. She was doing a rewrite of some dialogue between Henrietta and Booth. The argument before … before she tried to stab him. That was a pivotal scene in the play.”

“So you had discussed the play quite a bit?”

“Yes.” Another sip of beer. “She was excited about writing her first play. And I was interested because I have a deep and abiding love of the theater.” He smiled. “Been hooked ever since college, when I played Richard the Third.” He hunched his shoulders, raising one higher than the other. “‘Now is the winter of our discontent/Made glorious summer by this sun of York.'” His brows rose. “How could you not love a villain like that?”

“He's always been one of my favorite villains,” McCabe said.

Thornton's gaze fastened on her. “But you come from a literary family, don't you, Detective McCabe? I understand … understand that your father is Angus McCabe, the journalist and editor. And your mother was the poet Odell Vincent.”

McCabe felt her stomach muscles tighten. “Do you normally investigate your visitors' backgrounds, Mr. Thornton?”

“Only the visitors who are investigating me,” he said.

Baxter cleared his throat. “I'm feeling a little neglected over here, Mr. Thornton. Did you check me out, too?”

“My people are thorough, Detective Baxter. You have a solid background, some family connections. But nothing as interesting as Detective McCabe.”

Baxter grinned. “Gee, sorry to hear I'm so dull. But getting back to the reason we're here…”

Baxter flicked a glance in McCabe's direction.

“Yes, getting back to that,” McCabe said. “We understand Ms. Jessup hoped to eventually take her play to Broadway. This business she wanted to take care of, Mr. Thornton … do you think it could have had anything to do with that?”

Thornton smiled. “Obviously, you already know that Vivian was hoping I would be her backer.”

“We did hear that. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“Not at all. I wanted to wait until I saw the play in theater lab to commit. But this was Vivian Jessup.”

“Meaning there was no reason Ms. Jessup would have felt she should be looking for another backer?”

“None.”

“Did Ms. Jessup happen to mention to you a collector who had contacted her?”

Thornton took a sip from his beer bottle. “A collector of what?”

“Now, that's a good question. What we know is that this person claimed to have in his collection a Dalí edition of
Alice in Wonderland
and a stamp case designed by Lewis Carroll. Did she happen to mention that to you?”

“No … I can't recall that she did.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thornton. While we're here, could we speak to your fiancée, Ms. Nichols?”

“Just routine, Mr. Thornton,” Baxter said.

“No problem, Detectives. I understand. Let me see if Lisa is available.”

A man walked in. Blond, wearing a tan sports jacket and slacks, he was as polished as Thornton was casual. “Ted, did I hear you mention Lisa? I was just coming to give you a message from her. She didn't want to interrupt your meeting.”

So she sent him to interrupt it? McCabe thought.

“Bruce, I believe you spoke to Detective McCabe,” Thornton said.

“Yes, I did. Excuse my abrupt entrance.” He came forward with his hand extended. “Bruce Ashby, Ted's aide-de-camp.”

Interesting description, McCabe thought as she stood to shake Ashby's hand. Thornton had never been in the military. Had Ashby?

She introduced Baxter, and the two exchanged handshakes.

“What was the message from Lisa?” Thornton asked his aide.

“That she decided to go out. She had some errands to run.” Ashby turned back to McCabe and Baxter. “I'm sure if she had known you might want to speak to her, she would have delayed her errands.”

Thornton shrugged, hunching his shoulders. “Sorry. Afraid you'll have to speak to Lisa some other time, Detective McCabe.”

Ashby said, “It's my fault, Ted.” Turning back to McCabe and Baxter he said, “I told Lisa that you had arrived. But it didn't occur to me until she dashed off that I should have suggested she stay in case she was wanted.”

“No problem.” McCabe said. “But we would like to speak to Ms. Nichols at her earliest convenience.” She took her card from her shoulder bag. “Would you ask her to give us a call, Mr. Thornton?”

“Of course,” he said. He took the card, glanced at it, and tucked it in his shirt pocket. “By the way, I've invited Vivian's daughter, Greer, to stay here. Much easier on her than running a media gauntlet at a hotel. You can talk to Lisa when you come to talk to Greer.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume you will want to talk to Greer.”

“Yes,” McCabe said. “She is going to contact us when she arrives. We'll make arrangements for an interview then.”

Thornton nodded. “Please consider my house your house. Anytime you need to pop by. I'll leave those instructions with the guards.”

“And with Rosalind?” Baxter said.

Thornton laughed. “You liked Rosalind, did you? She's a marvel of technology. Let me … let me call her to show you out.”

He pressed the buzzer, then turned to Ashby. “Bruce, would you save the detectives some time and send over a copy of Lisa's and my train reservations from Wednesday. And, of course, the flight plan for the airship on Thursday morning.”

“I'll see you receive both,” Ashby said to McCabe.

“Thank you. We understand you were in the City on Wednesday, Mr. Ashby. Did you have appointments?”

“Back-to-back all day until Ted arrived that afternoon. Later, we had a working dinner. Would you like that information, as well?”

“If it wouldn't be too much trouble,” Baxter said.

Rosalind glided in. “You called, sir,” she said, fixing her metallic gaze on her “boss.”

“Yes, Rosalind. Would you show our guests out?”

“This way, please.”

McCabe turned in the doorway. “By the way, Mr. Thornton, the boat ramp where Ms. Jessup's body was found. Would you happen to have used it recently?”

Thornton raised an eyebrow. “That ramp … Let me see now.… I've only used it twice. The day that it opened … and the second time was…” He turned to Ashby. “Do you have that date, Bruce?”

Ashby checked his calendar. “That would have been on Monday, September sixteenth.” Ashby turned to McCabe. “The mayor joined Ted for a short canoe excursion while they discussed her Albany initiative.”

McCabe said, “That would be the ‘It Happened Here' initiative?”

Thornton said, “I'm a real supporter of that campaign. Albany's history hasn't been highlighted enough. The Dutch, the British, the Revolution.” He waved his hand. “The fur trade, the steamboat, the railroad. Everyone from Benjamin Franklin to Joseph Henry, the first secretary of the Smithsonian, had connections to this city. Vladimir Nabokov, the author of
Lolita
 … the man stopped here to hunt butterflies in the Pine Bush. We've got to get that history out there and get more people interested in coming here and spending money.” He smiled. “Don't you agree, Detective?”

“I'm sure that would be good for the city's economy,” McCabe said. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Thornton.”

“Anything I can do … anything to help find Vivian's killer. Just call on me.”

Rosalind said, “If you have concluded your conversation, please follow me.”

McCabe and Baxter followed the maid back the way they had come.

She opened the front door for them. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” McCabe said.

“See you later, Roz,” Baxter said.

“My name is Rosalind,” she said, and closed the door.

Baxter grinned at McCabe. “Damn robot's as touchy about the name thing as you are.”

McCabe glanced at him as they walked toward their car. “Thanks for stepping in back there when he threw me by mentioning my family.”

“Always got your back, partner.”

“Looks like your favorite sports car is out doing errands.”

Baxter stared at the empty space where the car had been when they arrived. “I just hope she doesn't park it in a mall somewhere.”

They got into their city-issue sedan. As McCabe was buckling her seat belt, she said, “Mike, did you get the sense Lisa Nichols may not be Ashby's favorite person?”

“You mean the way he tried to subtly suggest she might have ducked out on the interview?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Maybe he's got the hots for his boss and isn't thrilled because the fiancée has come between them.”

“It wouldn't hurt to check a little bit more on both Ashby and the fiancée.”

“Just to see if anything turns up?”

“Never hurts to be thorough,” McCabe said. “As I'm sure Ted Thornton would agree.”

 

13

 

The trim gray-haired woman who had answered the door at the house in Pine Hills called back over her shoulder, “Thelma, don't forget to put parsley in the stew.”

She turned to Pettigrew and Yin. Pettigrew noted that her eyes were red-rimmed under her glasses.

“I'm Caroline Young,” she said. “You must be the detectives about poor Nils.”

She used Jorgensen's given name rather than the name he had been known by on the baseball field.

“Detectives Pettigrew and Yin, Ms. Young,” Pettigrew said

She glanced at their badges. “Please come in. I have to go out, but Thelma, who helps me here in the house, will show you up to Nils's room.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Yin said. “But if we could speak to you for just a few minutes before you leave.”

Ms. Young glanced at the watch on her wrist. “I can give you a few minutes, but I'm due at the community center. We have to finish putting together the care packages we're shipping out to the soldiers.” She sighed. “I remember my mother doing that when I was a child. We're still doing it.”

“Yes, ma'am, we won't keep you,” Pettigrew said, “Is there anything you can tell us about Swede … Nils?”

Ms. Young nodded her head, “He came here to live three years ago. I explained at the time that I run a respectable boardinghouse. He always followed my rules.” She frowned slightly. “At least he did until last Friday evening, when I caught him sneaking down the back stairs with a young woman.”

Yin said, “So when you saw them, they were on their way out?'

“Yes, and Nils claimed they'd needed to speak in private and that was the reason he'd taken her up to his room.”

Pettigrew said, “I don't suppose he introduced the young woman?”