“And?”
“The pinot bottle at the scene had only a quarter left in it, and there was just one glass out, and it was clean. She couldn’t have drank it alone. So, whoever was there took their glass.”
“Or she was drinking, or going to drink, from a bottle that was already open.”
“I’m betting Marilyn wasn’t a leftovers type of girl.”
“Maybe, but you’d be surprised; even the wealthy like to save money.”
“I don’t doubt that, but remember, she was playing around with Barnet, an expert on wine. He would’ve rubbed off on her.”
“You’re going to see him. Why don’t you just ask?”
“Not yet. If he’s involved in some way, I’ll need to hold back a thing or three.”
“Another Luca proverb?”
“I’d like to take credit, but that was my old partner’s saying. I’ll see you when I get back from Waterside.”
***
Swirling a glass, Barnet was in the cave at the back of the store. There were two women at the table with him. I edged a few steps closer, picking up a bottle of Barolo as a decoy. Barnet tipped his glass on its side and rolled it back and forth with his palm. The women at the table glanced at each other and broke into smiles. Barnet picked the glass back up and stuck his nose deeply in it. He closed his eyes and his chest expanded. Releasing air, he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. He moved his lips around and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Nodding his head, Barnet set the glass down and poured the women wine. The women fingered the glasses, shifting them side to side, laughing as a splash jumped out of a glass. Barnet dabbed the table with a napkin and said, “I think it’s wonderful, a great mouth feel, good acidity. It’s a very balanced wine. I’m interested to hear what you think.”
The two women sipped and nodded at each other.
“I like it. It’s smooth, like you said.”
“Yeah, no hard edges. What foods do you recommend with it, John?”
“That’s one of the things I love about this particular wine. It’s so versatile. Chicken, veal, and pork will pair well with it.”
“What’s the price of a case?”
“It’s a great value. I think the Wine Spectator featured it as one of their better buys a month or two ago.”
“Oh, wow.”
“It’s eighty-nine ninety-five a bottle and selling quicker than I anticipated. I think we have only three cases left. Shall I have Bridgette write up a case for each of you?”
Did he just say ninety dollars a bottle? Didn’t these people ever hear of Costco? I put the Barolo back on the rack as the women agreed to a case each. Was that considered a soft or a hard sell?
Barnet picked up the bottle and was topping off their glasses when I stepped into the cave.
One of the women said, “Oh, John, it looks like the winemaker from Bordeaux is here.”
Barnet spun around, and the color drained out of his face. “Oh, hi. I’ll be right with you.” He turned back to his guests. “It’s not Francois, but I’ve got to go. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the wine, ladies. Thanks for stopping in.”
He got up from the table and shook my hand. “Let’s go to my office.”
Barnet closed the door and slid behind his desk. He moved a large bottle, which had been signed in gold, to a corner as I settled into a chair.
“I didn’t know you were coming by, Detective.”
“I was in the area and had a couple of questions for you. Thought it would be easier than having you come down.”
“Oh. Thanks for saving me a trip.”
“No problem. I gotta say, you did a nice sales job on them.”
Barnet stroked his Van Dyke and wagged a finger. “I don’t consider it sales. It’s really all about introducing and educating. I consider it important─no, make that critical─to move people’s perception of wine from simply a beverage to an experience. Paint a story of the vineyards, the winery, and the winemaker for them so they can be transported when they drink a wine. It makes the cost factor irrelevant, as it should be.”
Transported? He keeps talking like that, he’s going to be transported to an asylum.
“Got it. As I said, there’s a couple of questions concerning Marilyn Boggs, so let’s get to it, shall we?”
Barnet sank back and nodded.
“When you visited with her on the afternoon of her death, did you have any wine or alcoholic drinks of any kind?”
“Marilyn was really beginning to understand and enjoy wine. She especially liked a glass of French Viognier during the afternoon, and every Wednesday I’d bring a different producer over to sample. It was educational. I was trying to get her to discover the different ways the soil and microclimates of each vineyard affect the wine.”
Fun? That sounded like work to me. “How much did she drink that day?”
“I think she may have had two glasses.”
“Did she like other types of wine?”
Barnet furrowed his brow. “She enjoyed Sauvignon Blanc from the Loire Valley and French chardonnays.”
“So, just white wine?”
“Mostly. I was trying to introduce her to Barolo and the wines of Bordeaux, but I guess she had her limits.”
“She didn’t like Chianti or pinot noir?”
He shook his head. “Occasionally she’d drink pinot,” he laughed, “but that might have been because I kept telling her the best wines in the world, in my opinion, were from Burgundy.”
“Burgundy?”
“The reds from Burgundy, France, are made from pinot noir grapes. They’re less fruit forward and more complex than those from California.”
“Sounds interesting. I’ll have to try some.”
“I’ll pick out one for you to try when you leave. It’ll be on me.”
“Thanks, but I can’t accept a gift. I’ll pay for it but keep it under thirty bucks.”
“I have a couple in mind.”
“Okay. How would you describe the stage your relationship with Marilyn Boggs was in?”
“What do you mean?”
“The affair was going for a pretty long time. Was the fire still there?”
“Oh, at the beginning it was kinda like a high school fling.” He flashed a smile. “But things settled down into a nice routine.”
“Routine? Sounds boring to me.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that it was boring. Just that when we first started . . . to . . . to get together, we looked for every opportunity we could. That’s why I said it was like high school. But then we fell into a schedule, like every Wednesday afternoon and most Friday nights.”
“Who was more, shall we say, enthusiastic?”
“We both looked forward to seeing each other, but, you gotta remember, I’m running a business, and it takes a lot of my time, while Marilyn, well, she had a lot of time on her hands.”
“A friend of hers said she thought the relationship was coming to an end.”
“No, that’s not true.”
“But it had cooled down?”
“As I said, things settled down.”
“Did the two of you fight often?”
“I wouldn’t use the word fight, Detective. Did we disagree at times? Sure, what couple doesn’t?”
“It seems that something was bothering Mrs. Boggs in the weeks leading to her murder. Do you have any idea what was on her mind?”
Barnet stroked his Van Dyke. “I think it may have something to do with the situation with her husband.”
“You mean the affair you were having?”
“No, no. The marriage was over. It had nothing to do with me. You probably know she had an affair or two before we met. She really wanted a divorce from him, but there were some things in the trust she lives off that would penalize her.”
Barnet knew about the details of the trust? “That’s interesting. What was she going to do?”
He shifted in his
chair. “She was probably kidding, but she said something about having him disappear.”
“You mean by paying him off to disappear?”
“Could be, but I understood it as, you know, having him killed.”
“Do you think Marilyn Boggs would arrange for the murder of her husband?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m telling you that’s what she said.”
I was processing the thought when Barnet added, “You have to remember, the Boggs are a very powerful family.”
Chapter 26
Luca
“I don’t like it, Vargas. Why the hell didn’t he tell us? This Gideon guy, he’s our number one right now.”
“Maybe he was embarrassed, Frank. It’s not so easy to tell somebody, especially a man, that your wife was cheating on you, no less in the poor guy’s own house.”
“I’m glad I keep you around, Vargas. You make a good point every now and then.”
Vargas crumpled paper into a ball and tossed it at me.
“You’re a piece of work. How long you going to make him stew?”
“Another twenty or thirty minutes.”
“You sure about that? This guy gets anxious fast, and no sense having Gerey pissed at us.”
“Wow.” I got up. “Two good points in one day. Let’s have our chat with Gideon.”
Before we went into interrogation room two, we checked on the video feed coming from the room. Gideon was swiveling his head like he was watching a tennis match and pinching his shirt away from his chest every five seconds.
“We’re sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Brighthouse. The captain called us in on another case.”
“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“You remember my partner, Detective Vargas?”
He nodded and came halfway out of his chair when Mary Ann said, “It’s okay, sit. Would you like something to drink?”
“Uh, no. I’m . . . okay.”
After I dictated the formalities of the interview, I said, “We asked you down here because both your original statement on the night of your wife’s murder and your statement in a subsequent interview puzzled us.”
Gideon rubbed his hands on his thigh. “How? I . . . I didn’t mean to confuse anyone. You, you can be sure, it certainly wasn’t intentional.”
“How come you failed to tell us that you confronted your wife and John Barnet on the very afternoon of the day she was found dead?”
Gideon’s shoulders sagged. “I . . . I don’t know.”
Vargas asked, “Did you find it embarrassing to talk about?”
“No.”
This guy was nuts. “No? Your wife is having an affair and meeting her lover at your house, and that didn’t bother you?”
“If you must know, it wasn’t the first one. May I have a glass of water?”
Vargas hit the intercom as Gideon squirmed like a six-year-old waiting to get into an amusement park.
“There’s no need to get unsettled, Mr. Brighthouse, just answer the questions we have with honest answers and everything will be fine.”
Gideon’s head bobbed as the door swung open and a bottle of water was handed off to him. He took it with his left hand, raising the bottle too quickly, and drops of water darkened his tan shirt. He dabbed at the corner of his mouth, mumbling a thank you.
“How many affairs did your wife engage in?”
“Four.”
“When did this all start?”
“I . . . I . . . it was sometime after my heart attack.”
Vargas asked, “While you were recuperating?”
Gideon nodded.
I said, “I can tell you, that would have upset me, especially if I was recovering. Man, that’s hitting under the belt as far as I’m concerned. Pissed off would be an understatement.”
Gideon took a sip of water but remained silent.
I said, “John Barnet said you were angry that afternoon, that you were making comments and Marilyn told you to calm down. Is that what transpired?”
“Was I happy? No, but I’d learned to . . . live with the situation. My therapist helped me to realize how important art is to me . . . it makes me happy . . . and I’m at peace on Keewaydin. Uh, how much longer will this take? I need to get back.”
“Did you argue with Marilyn when Barnet left the island?”
“We’ve never really argued . . . Marilyn . . . she wasn’t the type, she had a lot of control.”
“And how about you?”
“I have all the human frailties.”
Interesting way of putting it, I’d have to remember that when I screwed up.
Vargas said, “Given the uncomfortable circumstances in your marriage, didn’t you want to get divorced?”
“Yes, but Marilyn resisted the . . .”
I said, “So you killed her.”
“No, no, I didn’t . . . I had no reason to.”
“Look Gideon, we know all about the trust and how Marilyn would suffer financially if she got a divorce. The only way out for you was to kill her.”
“That’s completely untrue. In fact, she wanted to get divorced. She took me by surprise the other day.”
“Really? You expect us to believe that?”
“But, but it’s true . . . she said it . . . about two weeks ago.”
“That’s very convenient.”
“You don’t . . . understand. She was being vin . . . vindictive. Wanted me to leave.” Gideon jumped out of his seat. “I gotta go. I can’t stay.”
I looked at Vargas, who said, “Let him go, Frank. It looks like he’s having a panic attack.”
“What if he’s faking it?”
“He might be, but if he has another heart attack, this room won’t be able to hold all of his lawyers.”
***
On the way to look at a new listing in Pelican Marsh, I still felt like Gideon had faked his attack. Revealing that we knew he’d confronted his wife and her boyfriend, along with our awareness of the penalty facing both of them for divorce, had put him on the spot. Then he goes and says that his wife agreed to divorce him? Unless she had filed, there was no way to check it. It was nothing more than hearsay, and I didn’t buy it. Gerey said he had no knowledge but would check with a couple of divorce lawyers in the county that served the wealthy.
Getting a look at the trust documents and especially the prenuptial agreement could provide a concrete motive. Problem was, the DA was hesitant about asking a judge to sign an order. Said he didn’t believe we had enough and that he was concerned with intruding on the family’s privacy. Even when I suggested a gag order and limiting access to the documents to him and me, he didn’t change his attitude.
I had forgotten how nice the Pelican Marsh entrance fountain was. The circular fountain threw up mountains of dense white water and offset the guardhouse, which I thought was one of the nicer ones in town.
The listing was in Grand Isles, a community of courtyard homes. I wasn’t a big fan of courtyard homes, but when I started the house hunt I was considering getting a dog, and a courtyard made sense. It was stupid and impulsive to consider a pet just because Kayla loved dogs. I had been thinking and dreaming like a seventeen-year-old. How the hell did I let what amounted to two dates with Kayla, influence my thinking? She was different, and I had high hopes, but the reality was there were miles of ground to cover if the relationship was to go anywhere, and it wasn’t looking good now.
The home had more square footage than I wanted, and needed work, which I wasn’t sure I was up to. The Realtor said it was the best buy in the Marsh, so here I was.
There were lakes on either side of the street, but this house was the first one on the left after the gate. I started to reconsider the location and pet thing and decided to leave. The Realtor hadn’t arrived yet, so I made a U-turn and left. I called the agent and told her an emergency at the sheriff’s office made it impossible for me to make the showing.
Chapt
er 27
Gideon Brighthouse
The wall behind the detectives was moving closer and there were white spots moving over their faces. I couldn’t stay here; the tightness in my chest was surging, and it could be a heart attack coming. I tried to get up but was glued to the seat. My peripheral vision was shrinking so fast I wouldn’t be able to find the door. I had to go. They can’t force me to stay. I’m going to die here.
Grabbing the edge of the table, I pried myself out of the chair. “I gotta go. I can’t stay.”
Clutching the doorknob with trembling hands, I escaped into the hallway. It was a maze. As a flash of heat scooted up my spine, I saw a glass door leading to the parking lot and ran. The open space slowed my breathing down, but a ball of fire in my gut erupted, forcing me to bend over and vomit.
***
Navigating through Gordon Pass Channel, we crossed the entrance to Dollar Bay and Keewaydin came into view. Every pore on my body sprung open, leaking the tension that had knotted me up. As my breathing returned to normal, I had trouble staying awake and stood up, putting my face into the breeze. As the boat maneuvered into a slip, I jumped off before the captain finished edging closer.
I jogged off the dock and took a couple of deep breaths, sucking in the island’s serenity. Keewaydin delivered peace better than a dozen Valiums. My phone rang. Gerey wanted to know how the interview went. I told him the police were insinuating that I was involved in Marilyn’s murder. Gerey promised to speak with them and to warn them against libeling me.
His assurance felt good but only lasted about ten steps. Gerey represented the Boggs family. I was a distant number two at best. He was probably told to keep an eye on me by Paul, the brother who was as controlling as the old man. I was never one of the family and rarely saw them, excepting Christmas and the annual shareholder meetings.
There was an interesting period when the relationship seemed to thaw a bit. Marilyn had bragged about how I’d virtually discovered Tracey Emin and that the six pieces of hers we had bought had increased twentyfold in a year. The brothers were shrewdly skeptical, telling both of us that I’d gotten lucky but asking the family office, under the guise of having adequate insurance, for an appraisal. When the appraisal came in at close to thirty times what we’d paid, they did a dizzying reversal
The Serenity Murder (A Luca Mystery Book 3) Page 10
