by Shari Lapena
“No,” she protests.
“We could charge you, you know.”
She remains silent, staring at him.
He leans back in his chair again, giving her some room. “Is there anything you want to tell us now?”
“No.”
“The thing is,” Reyes says, “whoever the killer was, he or she was quite careful and wore gloves. You needn’t have interfered with the murder scene after all.” She looks back at him, her face rigid. “Thanks for the tip, though.”
As she rises to leave, Barr says, “We’ll just get your fingerprints before you go—we need them for exclusionary purposes. We have to do everybody.”
* * *
• • •
irena exits the police station and makes her way to her car as if she can’t get there fast enough. Once she is in the car, though, she sits still for a few minutes, gathering her thoughts. She takes deep breaths, resting her head back against the headrest. She closes her eyes. What has she done?
Finally, she starts the car with trembling hands and drives to Catherine’s house. This is going to be difficult, and she’s dreading it.
When she arrives, she sees that both cars are in the driveway and Jenna’s is parked on the street in front. There’s no sign of Dan’s vehicle. She gets out of the car and approaches the familiar front door.
It’s Ted who answers her knock, his handsome face grave.
“Come in, Irena,” he says. “Jenna said you’d be coming over.”
Catherine stands up when Irena enters the living room; Jenna is already on her feet, over by the window. All three of them look at her expectantly. She is the first to be interviewed by the police at the station; they want to know what happened. They know they will be next. The room is charged with tension.
Catherine gives her a quick hug and says, “Come sit down and tell us everything.”
No sooner is Irena seated in an armchair than she blurts out, “I’m sorry.”
They all look at her in alarm.
She tells them what she did with the knife, and that the police know, and watches their faces flood with confusion, then disbelief.
Catherine says, “Why? Why would you do that?” She seems astonished and angry.
When Irena can’t find the words, Jenna answers for her, blunt as always. “Because she thinks it was one of us.”
Irena can’t meet anyone’s eyes. She sits in silence, staring at the floor.
For a moment everyone seems to forget to breathe. At last Catherine says, “Irena, surely you don’t believe that.”
Irena is silent. She doesn’t know what to say.
“So,” Jenna prods, “which one of us do you think did it?”
Irena evades the question. She looks at each of the sisters in turn, wanting to be forgiven, knowing that she won’t be. “I shouldn’t have done it. Now the police seem to think it was one of you kids. I’m sorry.”
Catherine, Jenna, and Ted all stare back at her in dismay.
“Thanks a lot,” Jenna says.
* * *
• • •
audrey, from her vantage point in the parking lot in front of the station, had watched Irena hurry to her car, looking more upset than when she arrived. Then she’d sat there for a long time, as if she were shaken and trying to pull herself together. Finally she drove off, leaving Audrey desperate to know what had happened inside the station.
Now, Audrey badly needs to pee but she doesn’t want to leave her post in case she misses something. But it’s not long until she sees Dan’s car enter the parking lot. He pulls up near the entrance. He gets out of the car, alone. He doesn’t glance her way or notice her at the back of the lot. Once she sees him go up the steps and into the station, she knows she’s got a bit of time. She glances at her watch, gets out of the car, and walks quickly to a donut shop down the street. She uses the bathroom, buys herself a chocolate donut and a coffee, and gets back to her car in the space of ten minutes.
* * *
• • •
they bring dan Merton into the same interview room they had used to question Irena a short time before. He’s dressed in clean jeans, an open-necked shirt, and a navy blazer. He wears an expensive-looking watch. He looks like he comes from money—he has that careless way with expensive things, Reyes thinks, the assurance that comes from growing up with a good wardrobe. He wears his clothes well, but everything else about him seems uncomfortable, unsure. He takes a seat and clears his throat nervously, his fingers tapping on the table.
“Dan,” Reyes says, “we just want to ask you a few questions. You’re here voluntarily; you can leave at any time.”
“Of course,” he says. “Happy to help. I want you to find out who did this terrible thing. Any luck on the driver of the truck yet?”
Reyes shakes his head and sits back in his chair. As always, Barr is beside him, watching everything, evaluating, a shrewd second pair of eyes. Reyes says, “Now that you’ve had some time to think, do you have any idea who might have murdered your parents?”
Dan frowns and shakes his head. “No. I can’t imagine why anyone would do this.” He adds awkwardly, “I mean other than for the obvious reason of robbery.”
Reyes nods and asks, “How did you feel when your father sold Merton Robotics?”
Dan Merton’s face flushes. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I’m just asking.” Reyes watches Dan’s hands fidget on the table.
“I wasn’t happy about it, to be honest,” he admits. “I’d worked hard in that company for years with the expectation it would be mine someday. He sold it without even considering what it would mean to me.” He stops suddenly, as if he’s said too much.
Reyes nods. “It seems like a shitty thing to do.”
Dan looks at him as if he’s deciding to drop some of his defenses. “Well, he could be a shitty person sometimes. But I had nothing to do with this.”
“I’m not saying you did,” Reyes assures him. “We’re just trying to get a full picture of the background here.” He pauses and goes on. “Because of the sale of the business, I understand you are now in some financial difficulty. Do you want to tell us about that?”
“No, not particularly,” he snaps. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“You don’t?” Reyes says. “You have a grudge against your father, you’re in financial difficulty, and you now stand to inherit a very large fortune.”
Dan flicks a nervous glance between him and Barr. “Do I need to get a lawyer?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“I had nothing to do with this,” Dan repeats more stridently. He rises from the chair. “I’m not answering any more questions. I know my rights.”
“You’re free to go,” Reyes agrees, then looks over at Barr. “We just need to get you fingerprinted first.”
24
You walked out? Why?” Lisa asks, concerned.
She watches Dan carefully as he tells her about the interview at the police station. They’re in the kitchen, seated at the table. His leg is jiggling nervously. As she listens, her own anxiety surges. The look of near panic in his eyes unnerves her. He tells her he has to get an attorney.
She swallows, her mouth dry. She thinks he’s probably right. Even though this is outrageous—Dan couldn’t harm a flea. But what if his fears are justified, and they zero in on him because of the circumstances, and they can’t find the guy in the truck, and they try to make Dan look guilty just so they can get a conviction? People are wrongfully convicted all the time. How can this be happening?
And she’s going to have to lie to the police.
“How will we pay for an attorney?” she asks, worried.
Dan looks at her, his eyes wild. “Catherine will help,” he says. “She has to. She can afford it. And she won’t want the precious family name
dragged through the mud. She’ll want the best that money can buy.”
* * *
• • •
a short time later, Dan drives them the short distance to Catherine’s house, his mind racing. He needs to talk to Catherine and Jenna. He turns to Lisa just before they exit the car. “Don’t tell them that I went out that night—that’s just between me and you. They don’t need to know. What if they let it slip to the police?”
She nods back at him, her brown eyes big.
Ted answers the door and they enter the house. Jenna is there, as expected, but he’s surprised to find Irena in the living room as well. Maybe she’s helping with the funeral preparations, too, he thinks. “I’ve just been interviewed by those detectives,” he blurts out, “at the police station.” They look back at him warily. He throws himself into an armchair. “They were acting like they think I killed them!”
He notices a glance being shared among the others. Do they think he did it too? Surely not. Fear suddenly floods through him. “What? What is it?”
Catherine says, “They interviewed Irena this morning too.”
Irena tells him what happened at the police station. Dan hears it all with mounting dismay. He and Lisa sit for a moment in stunned silence, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
Then staring at Irena, Dan says, “Why did you do that? What have you done?” He looks around the room at all of them, distraught. “I have to get an attorney,” he says. “Today. Except—I can’t afford one,” Dan says plaintively, looking directly at Catherine.
“We can help with that,” Catherine says, without even looking at Ted to see what he feels about it. “Please don’t worry about it. I’ll pay.” At that moment, Catherine’s cell phone buzzes. They all stare at it on the side table. Catherine picks it up.
* * *
• • •
audrey is noting how long each of the interviews lasts. From the short time Dan was in the police station, she concludes that they didn’t get much out of him. He probably refused to talk to them. Unlike Irena, Dan had left in a hurry, his car tearing out of the parking lot as if he were angry.
Audrey tries to kill time while keeping an eye on the entrance. She plays with her phone. She risks another pee break at the donut store and buys another coffee and hurries back just in time to see Catherine arrive and park her car. She is also alone. Audrey notes the time—it’s almost 2:30 p.m.
How she wishes she could be a fly on the wall in there. What Audrey wants to know more than anything is: Who knew that Fred planned to put her in his will?
* * *
• • •
catherine seems perfectly composed as she takes a seat in the interview room the day after her parents were discovered murdered. Seeing her now, without her white doctor’s coat, Reyes gets a clearer picture of her style. Expensive and classic. She’s wearing dark trousers and a printed blouse. No pearls today, but a gold necklace with a diamond at her throat. A diamond tennis bracelet. A designer handbag.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?” Barr offers.
Catherine smiles politely. “Coffee would be lovely,” she says.
She is more self-possessed than her brother.
Barr returns with the coffee, and Reyes explains that she is here voluntarily and can leave at any time.
“Of course,” Catherine replies. “I want to help anyway I can.” As the interview proceeds, she again denies that anything unusual happened at Easter dinner, despite the apparent mass exodus. She tells him that she and Ted remained at home together the rest of the night.
“We know Dan had problems with his father,” Reyes says. “That he was having financial problems. You all stand to inherit a lot of money.” Her expression remains impassive. He waits a beat and asks, “Did Jenna have any problems with your parents?”
She shakes her head, as if impatient. “No.”
“Did you?”
“No.” She adds spontaneously, “If anything, I was the favorite.”
Reyes leans back in his chair again. “So you were the favorite, Dan was the least favorite, and Jenna was somewhere in the middle? Your parents played favorites?” He detects a flicker in her eyes; perhaps she regrets what she said.
“No, it wasn’t like that. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that my parents were happy that I was a doctor. Dan—our father had very high expectations of Dan, and he was a bit hard on him. And Jenna—well, they didn’t like her art. They felt it was obscene.”
“Obscene?”
“Yes. She does sculptures of female genitalia and the like.”
Reyes nods. “I see. And that didn’t go over well with your parents?”
“Not particularly.” She adds, “But these were minor things. We were a perfectly ordinary family.”
Reyes doesn’t respond to that. “Your former nanny, Irena—are you all close to her?”
“Of course. She looked after us for years. She’s like a mother to us.”
“Does she have a favorite?”
“Look, I know what you’re getting at,” Catherine says, her voice even. “Irena came over to my place a little while ago and told us about your interview. I can’t explain what she did. All I know is, none of us had anything to do with this. And you need to find out who did.”
* * *
• • •
catherine leaves the police station with a sense of relief, feeling that the interview went well. She was perfectly relaxed, convincing. She hopes that’s the end of it, for her anyway. As she walks into the parking lot, she glances up and spots Audrey in her car, alone at the back of the lot. Catherine stops in her tracks for a moment, surprised to see her there. Audrey catches her eye and looks down, as if at a cell phone. For a second, Catherine debates whether to go over and talk to her, ask her what she’s doing here. Is she spying on them? Or have the police asked her to come in for an interview?
She walks directly to her own car, her earlier confidence gone.
25
Rose Cutter stands nervously on Catherine Merton’s doorstep. Her palms are sweaty. She wipes them on her skirt and presses the doorbell. She doesn’t want to be here, but Catherine surely needs her support.
Rose owes her. Catherine’s been such a solid friend, ever since high school, where they met in English class. Catherine hadn’t been much of an English student, she was more into the sciences, and she wanted high marks. They’d been paired together on an assignment, and from there, Rose began helping her with her essays. An unlikely friendship flourished and expanded outside the classroom. Catherine was popular by virtue of who she was, and because of her lovely clothes—she could always afford the hottest new styles. Rose was a nobody and had zero fashion sense, which was the kiss of death in high school. She remembers how generous Catherine had been with her, how she’d made it clear to everyone that they were friends, and how differently the other kids treated her after that. Catherine invited her to things—parties, outings—and just like that, she was accepted.
Catherine knew Rose didn’t have the advantages she had. She helped her dress better, even giving her some of her own clothes, or taking her to thrift shops to find pieces she could actually afford. Sometimes Rose wondered if she was some kind of project for Catherine, if she’d befriended her out of some sort of rich-person guilt. But she realized after a while that although Catherine appeared to be popular, she was lonely, and with Rose she could be herself. They became close. Catherine wasn’t as confident as she seemed to be, and things were difficult at home. She needed a friend as much as Rose did. One day she’d even confided to Rose that she’d been caught shoplifting and told her she thought her father was going to kill her. Rose had been astonished—her parents were millionaires, Catherine could have anything she wanted, and she was shoplifting? It made Rose feel better, because she’d always known how greedy she was herself, and it was nice to know that s
he wasn’t the only one.
They’d stayed in touch while they attended different universities—SUNY for Rose, Vassar for Catherine—and reconnected when they both found themselves back in Aylesford as adults. The pattern continued. Catherine invited her to social events—sailing at the Hudson Yacht Club, and that charity polo match last year. Things that Rose could never attend or afford on her own. But mostly they met for coffee, or over lunch, and had long talks, sharing details of their lives, reminiscing about fun times they’d had.
Now, Ted answers the door. Rose has seen Catherine and Ted together socially on many occasions. She has always found Ted attractive—tall, broad-shouldered, the strong, silent type. She’s glad Catherine has him to lean on. She gives him a tentative smile and says, “Hi, Ted, can I come in?”
“It’s not a good time, Rose,” he says apologetically. “Catherine’s just come back from the police station.”
Rose hears Catherine’s voice in the background. “Is that Rose?” Then Catherine appears at Ted’s shoulder, joining him at the door.
“Rose,” Catherine says. She smiles a welcome, but it’s a smile that’s on the verge of tears.
“Oh, Catherine,” Rose exclaims, reaching out to hug her. She holds her close, breathing in the familiar smell of her. Rose finds herself fighting back tears, and squeezes her eyes shut.
Catherine is a dear friend, but she’s always been jealous of her for having everything Rose doesn’t have, all the advantages that money brings. Rose was brought up by a widowed single mother who scrimped and saved her entire life. That Rose has made anything of herself at all, she attributes mostly to her own hard work. She knows that the Mertons weren’t a very happy family, but they have millions.
