“That’s up to you, sir. We’re just here to bring you along.”
“Tell you what. I don’t really need a drive. My car is parked around the corner. I’ll finish up the scene with these good people and drive straight down. Promise.”
Kate, losing patience, spoke.
“Impossible. You need to you accompany us back to the station now.”
Henry turned to Andrew. “Finish up the scene while I go see what this is all about.”
“Anything I can do for you Henry? Do you want me to call your lawyer”, Eleanor asked.
“No, thanks, I’ll manage. You and Andrew see to the rehearsal. Opening night’s drawing closer and they haven’t nailed it down yet.”
He turned to Kate and Withers.
“Do you think it would be acceptable if I followed you to the station in my car?”
“Well, that might work if we switched up and we followed you.”
“Afraid I’ll abscond? How interesting. Very well, I’ll go first and don’t worry; I’m not very good at running road blocks.”
He stood, nodded to Andrew, Eleanor and those assembled on the stage, and followed the two police officers out of the theatre.
“Okay guys. You heard Henry. Let’s get to it.”
“Have a heart, Andrew”, Brenda shouted from the stage. “Give them a break. I doubt if any of us could concentrate right now. Besides, I need a cigarette.”
“You haven’t smoked in years,” Andrew said. “And you heard what the boss said; we need to be ready for opening night. So loosen up, let’s take it from the top.”
Eleanor sat quietly and thought about Henry. They must have the evidence to take him in for questioning. Or is it a ploy? Are they going to take each one of us in again, one by one? If the plan is to psych us out, it’s working. This soon has to end. My stamina is weakening, Henry is a wreck, and the actors are losing their focus. Andrew’s the only one holding it together.
She turned her mind to the play. James’ portrayal of Willy Loman as a hollow man, one who fills himself with borrowed lives, is stunning. The problem is how Charlotte chooses to portray his wife. She doesn’t get the woman’s resiliency, how she remains undeceived and copes with home truths. Henry and I agreed it was too late for a replacement. Andrew is sharp and can assume the Director’s mantle until Henry comes back, if he comes back. If any of us survive this.
***
The three detectives stood in front of the two-way mirror and looked at Henry.
“I’m for going in now, Gordon. We make him wait any longer, he’s going to be hollering for his lawyer”, Withers said.
“I agree”, Kate said.
“Wait a minute, not so fast”, Gordon said. “I want to make sure all the bases are covered for the search warrant. How sure are you, Withers, that they will be able to gain access to Ward’s home?”
“Very sure, sir. I made a call to the house and his sister answered the phone. She will be home all day.”
“Good. Okay, let’s do it.”
Henry looked up as they entered the room and chose their chairs.
Kate reached for the remote control and turned on the video recorder mounted on the wall behind her. Withers stated the date, and time.
“Sorry for the delay, Henry”, Gordon said. “At a police station, there’s always something going on. We’ve brought you down here this afternoon to clear up a couple of points. We shouldn’t have to keep you too long. How are you enjoying being in the Director’s chair?”
Henry looked surprised by the question. “It’s okay, a bit of a stretch, but I’m doing okay.”
“You’ve been in the theatre business for quite some time now, haven’t you?”
“Yes, twenty-five years and counting.”
“Thinking of retiring soon”, Withers asked.
“No, not for another ten years at least.”
“You have health problems, Henry”, Gordon asked.
“No, typical colds and stuff, that’s all.”
“How long did you work with Jeffrey Stone”, Kate asked.
Henry had to turn his head to answer her as she was sitting slightly behind him.
“For the last five years.”
“Were they a good five years?”
“They were fine. Typical ups and downs but nothing serious.”
“Always fancy seeing yourself as a Director, Henry”, Withers asked.
He turned back to answer him, his face red. “No, producing is my field.”
“You didn’t say no when you were offered on the position though, did you”, Gordon asked.
“I didn’t want to leave them in the lurch, that’s all.”
“That wasn’t the understanding of the rest of the production crew”, Kate said.
“I can’t help what they think.”
“How would you describe your relationship with Jeffrey’s wife, Catherine”, Kate asked.
A puzzled look crossed his face. He said it was good; they had been friends for years.
“Never more than friends?
An emphatic no echoed in the small room.
“Quite a passionate response, Henry, coming from a quiet, calm person like yourself”, Gordon said.
“I know where you’re headed with this and you’re wrong. I never wanted Jeffrey’s job or his wife.”
“Ever go into the theatre after hours? When no one was around”, Withers asked.
“I might have, can’t remember.”
“Might have? One of those times you might have, did you happen to run into one of the cast members on the street?”
“Not that I remember?”
“How about Camira? You knew her quite well. You’d remember seeing her wouldn’t you?”
He looked at Withers, a small line of sweat appeared on his upper lip. “Maybe I should have my lawyer here. I don’t like where this is going. Good God, I’m not a killer. I had nothing to do with anyone’s death.”
“Do you want to call one now”, Gordon asked.
The three detectives held their breath. Henry shook his head no.
“Own a gun Henry”, Gordon asked.
“Yes, a semi-automatic handgun – a Desert Eagle. I bought it years ago, on a whim.”
“Did you get a license for it”, Withers asked.
“Yes, of course. It’s licensed and registered.”
“Where do you keep it?”
“In my library at home, in the top desk drawer.” Henry shifted in his seat and began to tap the fingers of his right hand on the table.
“Is the gun still there”, Kate asked.
“Of course, where else would it be?”
“How about in the parking lot of the AST campus? A gun matching yours, with the same license and registration number, was found abandoned in the lot last night after someone took a shot at Rev. Hanya as she was leaving her office. Rev. Hanya is the cousin of Camira. Small world isn’t it”, Withers asked.
The tapping of his fingers ceased. Sweat trickled from his forehead onto his nose.
“This is ridiculous. It can’t be my gun. It was there three weeks ago when I had the actors and staff over to the house for wine and cheese. Someone asked about the likelihood of a prop gun going off. I took them into the library and showed them with my gun how unlikely it was that anything could go wrong.”
“Who asked you about prop guns?”
“I can’t remember, the room was crowded, people were talking. I don’t even know if it was a man or a woman. I didn’t think anything of it, I just answered the question.”
“Where were you last night”, Kate asked.
“Home studying material on past productions of Death of a Salesman.
“Can anyone verify that”, she asked.
“No, I was home alone and...” he paused. “I want
to call my lawyer. Now.”
“Of course”, Gordon said.
Kate stated the time the interview had ended and shut the video recorder off. The three officers left Henry staring into space and wringing his hands.
“Lawyer or not, he’ll be spending at least one night in lock-up”, Gordon said.
Chapter 18
An hour later Shirley sat at her desk and read the ballistic report that put Henry Ward in the running for Hanya’s shooter and, possibly as Jeffrey, Catherine and Camira’s killer. Greed, ambition, debt, and blackmail were the theories being bandied about.
“So Jeffrey’s sexual preferences weren’t behind the killings. I high tailed it back here to tell you the name of one of his victims and put forth a strong second candidate and then had to wait an hour before you finished your interview and debrief. I thought I’d pee my pants if I couldn’t soon tell someone.”
“You mean to say you know the identity of at least one of the girls at the cabin,” Kate asked.
“Yes. Donald and Eleanor Sutton’s deceased daughter, Sybil. I recognized her in the framed picture he had in his office. I’m speculating the dark haired girl to be Brenda Parsons’s sister – shit, I don’t even know her name, but Jeffrey would have come into contact with her through Brenda. It should be easy enough to check out.”
“Good work, Shirley. Have your written up the report?”
“Written, attached to an e-mail and forwarded to Gordon. He’s probably reading it now.”
A knock on the door. Shirley opened the door to find Withers standing with a coffee pot in one hand, a plate of cookies balanced on its top.
“Well”, he asked, “Can I come in or not?”
Shirley smiled and relieved him of the coffee pot and Kate pulled out the extra chair.
“I brewed the coffee myself”, he said. “The warm oak cakes are courtesy of June who dropped them off ten minutes ago.”
The three detectives hoed into the treats. “Maybe we should invite Gordon to join us”, Shirley said. “I could kill two birds with one stone.”
“Gordon’s gone home; muttered something about picking up his wife by 7:00pm, their anniversary or something.”
Shirley’s face fell. “I might as well fill you in now Withers. Gordon can read the report tomorrow morning. I’ll make it quick. It’s getting late and I have to be getting home myself.”
Kate excused herself and stepped out into the hallway. She punched in Roger’s cell.
“How’s it going”, she asked.
A tired sounding Roger said things were fine.
“Thought I’d bring you up to date on what’s going on.”
Roger listened without interruption until Kate finished.
“I’ll be damned, Henry Ward was telling the truth about Jeffrey’s sexual tendencies but as far as seeing him shooting at Hanya, no. It would be against type. He spreads his poison with his mouth, uses underhand tactics. But I could be wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I don’t think you are. It would be easy to set Ward up. How did it go for you today?”
“Not as bad as I thought. “Gordon called late this afternoon. The coked up thugs were paid $10,000 to do the job, the going price among amateurs for a cop’s life these days I guess. Divide by five - $2,000 a piece. I’m worth more as a race driver. I owe Hazel the homeless a lot.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“No, nothing. So what else is new?”
“That’s it, for now, but not for long, things are starting to move, Roger.”
“Yeah, well I’d like to be in on the ground floor.”
“Get a clearance from your doctor and we’ll welcome you back with open arms.”
Kate hung up and walked back in the room just as Shirley was wrapping up. Withers shook his head and said nothing.
“I don’t buy Henry as the killer. I just got off the phone with Roger and he agrees with me.”
“Not that again Kate”, Withers said. We’ve got the killer. His gun was found at the crime scene. He hated Stone. Why he killed Catherine is another question I’m not sure we’ll ever get the answer to. We need to find out how he got access to the poison, and that shouldn’t be too difficult. They were a tight knit social circle; I bet you his name is on the visitor’s log.”
Shirley opened the envelope and read the names.
“More like whose name isn’t on the list. We have Donald, Jim and Brenda of course, and there’s Eleanor, Henry, Andrew and yes, Henry, and some names I don’t recognize. Business associates I assume. All within the last two years.”
“Damndest, murkiest business I’ve been involved in”, Withers said. “Well, I’m off, early morning line up tomorrow.”
Kate took a coin out of her pocket.
“Want to flip to see who interviews Eleanor or Brenda. Let’s book them tonight. I don’t feel like interrupting another rehearsal, Charlotte’s heart might not stand it.”
Chapter 18
Shirley, having won the coin toss, was interviewing Brenda in Gordon’s office. Kate sat in her office catching up on paperwork until Eleanor arrived, another thirty minutes or so from now.
Eleanor’s timing was perfect; Kate had just finished her report when she knocked on the door. Kate positioned Eleanor in the hard plastic chair a few feet from the corner of her desk. She didn’t want her face blocked by the computer on the desk that butted against hers. Eleanor looked very uncomfortable.
“Thanks for coming to the precinct, Eleanor, I appreciate it. Did you have any trouble parking?”
“No, I grabbed a cab.”
“I’ve asked you down here because our investigation has turned up a few new developments and I need to clear up a few things. You and Donald were divorced two years ago. Is that correct?
“Yes, but what has that to do with anything?”
“During the time of your marriage and divorce, did you ever tour the premises of your husband’s plant?”
“Yes, of course, quite a few times when we were married. I’ve been in the plant only once since our divorce.”
“On any of those occasions, did you enter the room where Prussic acid was manufactured?”
“I believe so. Donald liked to show off his security. It was state of the art, very impressive.”
“Did you ever enter the room unattended?”
“Of course not.”
“Have you ever been in the room when only you and Donald were present?”
“No, not that I remember”, Eleanor said. She paused for a moment and then resumed speaking. “There is a log book outside the room for people to sign before entering the room. It should be easy enough to check.”
“How long has it been Eleanor since your daughter was killed in the car accident?”
An angry looking red welt appeared on her neck. “I don’t understand why you’re asking me this, Kate. I find the whole thing very painful to talk about.” She sighed. “It’s a little over a year now. Last winter, the roads were bad. She hit a guardrail and went over the embankment.”
“Did your daughter have an active social life before her accident? Did she date a lot?”
“I wouldn’t say she dated a lot, but she dated.”
“Who did she date?”
“Boys, high school boys. Do we have to talk about Sybil?”
“Yes. I’m afraid we do. Was Sybil close to Jeffrey?”
“Jeffrey? She knew both Jeffrey and Catherine on a social basis. We would have them over to dinner and they would reciprocate. She enjoyed their company but I wouldn’t say she was close to them.”
“Was she closer to Jeffrey than Catherine?”
“No. I told you, she wasn’t close to either of them.”
“Were you aware of the rumours about Jeffrey, how he dated young girls, underage girls.”
�
��Oh no, Kate, is that what you’re saying?” Panic increased the intensity and pitch of Eleanor’s voice. “Jeffrey and Sybil? No. Never. What kind of filth are you implying? Sybil was a good girl; an excellent student, polite, upstanding. I won’t listen to the likes of this.”
Final Act Page 18
