I asked if Joni Burns, his paralegal, was available.
Miss Burns (that was how she introduced herself to me) was small and very thin. She had thick glasses and very long brown hair. She had a pleasant laugh which she enjoyed trotting out with any prompt.
I went back to her office with her.
“You’re here for what purpose, Mr. Ryle?”
“I don’t suppose you’d believe it was to meet you, Miss Burns.”
The laugh came right on schedule.
“No, I don’t suppose you did, Mr. Ryle. Very few people come here to see me. And those that do usually have a subpoena.”
“See, that’s where you’ve underestimated me. I am really here to see you.”
“For what reason if I may ask?”
I looked across the desk at her. She was deliberately withholding her mental abilities. It was a good way to fool people.
“My father is under arrest for the murder of Mrs. Spring. I’m trying to prove that he’s innocent.”
“Mr. Ryle, as I understand it, your father confessed. You’ll excuse me, but if I try to help you aren’t I indirectly saying that your father may not have done this and if I do won’t the police go back to the first person they accused who happens to be my boss?”
I hate smart paralegals.
“I’m looking for a suspect other than my father or your boss.”
“And yet you’ve come to our office.”
“Not fishing for suspects, Miss Burns. I want to find out about the Spring family. What Mrs. Spring was like. That sort of information.”
“Are you carrying around the blueprints of a bridge in Brooklyn and offering the bridge itself to me?”
“I guess I didn’t approach this very well. Please just tell me what Mr. Spring is like. I am not trying to put words in your mouth, as if I could. I’m just trying to understand what has happened. For instance, I want to find out why my father confessed.”
“Mr. Spring is a very kind boss. Let’s not lie to each other. I consider myself on the wrong end of the attractiveness scale.” She paused. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back at me with a lie meant to make me feel better. It wouldn’t work.”
“I think you exaggerate. By quite a bit. But go ahead.”
“All right. Mr. Spring overlooked my lack of attractiveness. He saw what many men don’t want to see in a woman. That is intelligence, Mr. Ryle. He gave me a chance. I’ve gotten a variety of raises. When he needs someone to work late, he asks me. I told myself that it was because he knew his wife wouldn’t be jealous, but over time I’ve come to think he really thinks I’m good at this job.”
Part of being a fixer is learning how to read people. The truth is you have to use your gut feelings, but mine have turned out to be pretty good and have gotten better over time because I met a lot of people. A good percentage of them were accomplished and successful liars. They were very helpful in detecting less successful liars.
Miss Burns, I thought, loved her boss. She didn’t say anything specific. She didn’t have a picture of him on her desk. But her eyes widened when she mentioned his name. Her face glowed as she spoke about him.
“It must be difficult for Mr. Spring now with his wife gone. He must be lonely for example. Did she do the cooking in the house?”
Miss Burns stared at me.
“What business is that of yours?”
“I’m trying to understand. Please. A few questions.”
“He is having a difficult time. He stays late here more often. He has me going out and bringing dinner here and even sometimes to his house. And, yes, he has said he’s lonely. I’m sure this is all very helpful in solving Mrs. Spring’s murder.”
“Who knows? Bits of information are like torn pieces of paper. One day they’re lying on the floor and the next day you put them together with other torn pieces of paper and you’ve got an interesting picture.”
“I’ve got work to do, Mr. Ryle. You’re not asking for advice, but your father has confessed. I believe it would be best for everyone if you let it go. Stop your investigation.”
She didn’t want her feelings toward her boss to become known. I wondered if those feelings were enough of a motive to kill Mrs. Spring. Miss Burns certainly would know where his weapon was. It’s not so easy to kill someone, though, and I wasn’t sure if she could do it. She struck me as more the kind of person who thought about it. Maybe in her case daydreamed about it. But that final step was so huge that she may not have been able to make it happen.
I realized I had been quiet for a few seconds.
“Where were you when Mrs. Spring was shot, Miss Burns?”
That did a good job of stunning her.
“You have no right...”
“I’m here so the police don’t have to be, Miss Burns. I’m really doing you a favor. Do you honestly want me to report that you were uncooperative? That’s a really good way to become a suspect when you’re not one now.”
“The acorn didn’t fall far from the tree.”
She was good. She had spotted my weakness and went right for it.
I tightened my muscles.
“Think what you want. My father and I are very different. You were about to tell me where you were that evening.”
“I was in my apartment. Alone. Listening to music. Are you going to tell me I need an alibi?”
“Not at all. I just add the facts together.”
“Is that all, Mr. Ryle?”
“I haven’t seen Mr. Spring yet. I was told he was busy with a client.”
“He is and it will take a while.”
“Fine. Can I see his partner?”
“Buzzy? I don’t know.”
“Please check for me.”
She picked up the phone.
“Is Mr. Young available? It’s about the investigation of Mrs. Spring’s death.”
There was silence for a few seconds.
“He’ll see you. His secretary didn’t sound too enthusiastic.”
“That happens to me a lot.”
“His office is around the corner on the right.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“And I was trying so hard not to be of any help at all.”
“You almost made it.”
I got up and walked around to see Jesse Spring’s law partner.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Buzzy Young was tall, overweight, with a gray beard and long hair. He wore brightly colored suspenders. He wanted people to see them because his suit jacket was hanging on his desk chair.
His voice was loud.
“I once ran across your father, Mr. Ryle. And yet I’m still standing.”
If he expected me to smile, he was disappointed.
“You’re not in friendly territory, Mr. Ryle.”
“That has become abundantly clear to me, Mr. Young.”
“I’m glad there is no misunderstanding. You interrupt our work. You bring up exceedingly unpleasant memories. You provoke gossip that has the potential to harm our business. Most of all, you upset Mr. Spring. I speak for the entire firm when I tell you that it will be pleasant to see you go and never return.”
“Don’t tell me. Mr. Congeniality 1950.”
“Please go.”
“I’ll make a deal with you, Mr. Young. Let me ask a few questions and if all goes well I will never return. You will have seen the last of me.”
“I very much like the last part of your statement. Go ahead and ask your questions.”
“What was Mrs. Spring like?”
“I didn’t know her all that well. When I saw her she seemed sad. I think she found it hard to believe that her husband was so successful.”
“Did her sadness lead her to drinking?”
“What a terrible job you have, Mr. Ryle.”
“The drinking?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Did either of them have romantic partners outside the marriage?”
“You are outrageous. Of course not. Th
ey loved each other.”
“Did you find Mrs. Spring attractive?”
He jumped up.
“I’m trying to control my impulse to pick you up and throw you out that picture window.”
“You have trouble controlling your violent feelings?”
“Get out.”
He was screaming.
“One final question and you’ll probably never see me again.”
“What is it?”
“Where were you on the evening when Mrs. Spring was killed?”
He slumped back down in his chair and sighed.
“I was working late here. You can ask Miss Burns. She always works late.”
“I guess that clears the people in this office. I...”
Just then Jesse Spring’s office door was opened. A laughing client stepped out in the hall.
I stood up.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Young. As I say, I expect you’ve seen the last of me. I’m just going to say hello to Mr. Spring. You know I started with this because Mr. Spring asked me to help.”
“We all make mistakes.”
I stared at him and was quiet for a few seconds.
“Yes. We do all make mistakes.”
I left and walked toward Jesse Spring. He waved at me and signaled that I should go into his office.
I smiled and nodded back.
Then I went over there.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jesse Spring suggested we go over to a bar he liked. I wanted to comment on the hour, but I kept quiet and just followed him.
The bar owners clearly cherished him as a customer. He was greeted by name in a friendly yell. The bar was dark. I followed the path of some of the smoke. It moved quietly, some sort of a comforting blanket for the customers. There were more customers than I would have expected. It was too early for the men in the bar, and the patrons were almost exclusively men, to think about women to pair off with. Instead they told jokes and exaggerated in ways they were expected to do. The laughter came at me from all sides. This was a fun house for the people there. There were no worldly pressures. There were no competitive enemies. Instead there were smiles and hoisted watered-down drinks, cheers made for the flimsiest of reasons, and plans made for events that would never take place.
The bartender was middle aged and experienced. He didn’t ask what Spring wanted because he already knew. When he asked me, I said I wanted a ginger ale.
He was good. He didn’t mock me. He didn’t try to get me to try a rum and coke. Instead he said, “Ah, so you’re the designated driver.”
“I am,” I smiled.
We took the drinks to a table in the only quiet corner. I stared. Some of the patrons sitting on stools munched the free pretzels and stared at themselves in the bar’s mirror. Staring at yourself and figuring out what has happened with your life is not an exercise for the weak. It was a good reason for a bar to have a mirror because once people looked hard at themselves they often decided that they needed a drink.
Spring saw me looking around.
“I know most of the people here. Waterbend isn’t that big, and I deal with a lot of people. But you didn’t come for a tour of our best watering hole.”
“I did not, Mr. Spring.”
“I’m sorry about your father, Danny. I really am. Even if it helped me, it pains me more than you can know to see him in jail.”
“I don’t see you rushing forward and screaming that his confession is false and that you really shot your wife in a fit of anger.”
“You have every right to be upset, Danny. But, I swear to you. I didn’t kill my wife. Of course your father didn’t either. But it’s the real killer who deserves your fury.”
“The real killer will get it, and a visit to Sing Sing. An extended, maybe permanent, visit.”
“I’m with you on that. Tell me how I can help.”
“You went over some suspects. Does anyone stand out? Maybe someone with a temper? Someone out to frame you? Someone out to get your wife?”
“You surely must know I’ve been thinking about this day and many endless nights.”
“And?”
“And my head keeps swirling. My brain keeps spinning. It never stops. Danny, if I had even the slightest clue I’d run up and down Main Street screaming about it. I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”
“Will you put out a reward for the identification of the killer? Money might prompt someone who knows something to step forward.”
“How much?”
“Start with ten thousand. Maybe go up later if we get some interesting nibbles but no answer.”
“That’s a lot of money, Danny.”
I had a few answers, but I decided that none would satisfy him. I chose to pick silence and see if that dug its way into his conscience.
“Let me think about it.”
“You do that, Mr. Spring. Until tomorrow when you announce the reward. Go on the local radio station. Take out a big ad in the Waterbend Bugle. Start calling people. Put up flyers in every storefront. I want this town to know you don’t think my father killed your wife.”
“All right, Danny. Personally, I don’t think anyone is going to come forward, but I can see how a reward might show my views about your dad.”
“Tell me about your partner.”
“Buzzy tries to come across to everyone as a bit of a bully. That’s just his style.”
“Really? I bet potential customers just love it.”
“They love when he uses that personality on people they don’t like.”
“Did he have a relationship with your wife?”
Spring pushed his chair back.
After five seconds of silence, he hissed at me, “How dare you? She was as pure as Caesar’s wife. She never cheated on me, and I don’t want you to go around to people hinting anything else. Do we understand each other?”
“We do. Do you and Mr. Young get along as partners?”
“That’s a much more appropriate question.”
“And yet you haven’t answered it.”
I think it was at that moment that he decided to take me off his Christmas card list. I’d learn to accept it.
“We get along fine. And, sure, if you go around the town asking people, some will say they have seen us quarreling. Buzzy’s expense account is the source of some arguments. His style has created some friction. But he’s not a murderer.”
I shrugged. “An aggressive person sometimes wants more than he has. I imagine if you were gone and he controlled the whole law firm, no one would be around to question his expenses.”
“That’s about the weakest motive for murder that I’ve ever heard.”
“You’d be surprised why people kill.”
“Go somewhere else so you don’t waste your time, Mr. Ryle.”
I wondered what had happened to “Danny.”
“Tell me about your paralegal, Joni Burns.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. She doesn’t take days off. You give her a task you can be confident the task will be done quickly and competently.”
“What’s your relationship with her?”
“What is this? I resent your intruding on my life with questions about my wife and now Joni. You’re sick.”
“I’m curious. You keep being curious and sooner or later you come across a path to the truth.”
“That’s your job if you want to help your father. It’s not my job.”
“Ah, you see, Mr. Spring, it is your job. Because I’m going to look at all the suspects I can list. If one of them doesn’t cooperate, why, that person will naturally get further and deeper scrutiny. It just makes sense. I’m sure you don’t want to take a step forward as a potential suspect. Maybe you don’t like my questions. That’s all right. The police do. You’ve read stories about me working with the police.”
“So what?”
“So do yourself a favor. Talk to me so I don’t keep digging. So I don’t talk about you with the police.”
He was sil
ent.
“You were going to describe your relationship with Joni Burns.”
“She’s a paralegal. It’s a professional relationship.”
“Have you had a romantic relationship with her?”
His voice was low and tight.
“No. Of course not.”
“Do you think she has romantic feelings toward you?”
It was a trap of sorts. Clearly, she did. If he said no, I’d be aware that he was lying to me.”
“Maybe she does. I never encourage or return those feelings.”
“Now with your wife dead, she has a clear path toward you.”
“I can see how you were raised by a nasty man.”
“Leave my father out of this. He has kept you out of jail.”
We were at a standoff.
“Who else should I speak to?”
“No one. Leave everyone alone.”
“Talk to me about your will, Mr. Spring. Let’s say you killed your wife. You were jailed, convicted, and sentenced. You’re upstate maybe waiting execution or maybe staring at the bars of your cell.”
He was not happy with me and was struggling to control himself.
“So, then, tell me, Mr. Spring, you are dead in the electric chair. Your wife isn’t around to inherit. Who gets your money? Your law partner? Your paralegal?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It became my business the moment my father confessed. One final time, Mr. Spring. Who inherits?”
“My brother. The money goes into a trust for him, to take care of him. I suppose you’re going to try to blame Arnie now. I mean he’s locked up by day. Maybe he escapes and is a notorious murderer by night.”
I knew this and had checked on it.
“See? I told you there are no good suspects, Mr. Ryle.”
“You mentioned getting into some argument.”
“Yes. With my neighbor, Lou Nelson. But it was a nothing argument. The kind every neighbor has with every other neighbor. It barely had gotten to the yelling stage. I’m telling you, there’s no one I am aware of who had the means, motive, or opportunity to kill my wife.”
“Except you.”
“I won’t dignify that with a response.”
“You need to offer the reward, spread the news about it. And you also need to sit down with a pad and pencil and make a list of anyone, and I do mean anyone, who might have wanted your wife dead.”
The Starry Night of Death Page 7
