by Lynne Hinton
“Mr. Ewing drinks whiskey.”
The Captain smiled.
She wanted to laugh but showed restraint.
“You know what you did was extremely dangerous, not to mention illegal. And Daniel was pretty sore about tearing his coat jacket, which he refused to give any details about.” He eyed Evangeline. “I guess you won’t tell me that part of the story.”
She shrugged. She figured if Daniel wasn’t telling, neither should she.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway.”
She glanced over at him. “What doesn’t matter?”
“Any of this,” he answered. “Biltmore didn’t do it.”
“How do you know?”
“Daniel saw him this morning. He admitted he had a business relationship with Cheston. He wrote the scripts and was paid well, and the director took the credit. It had been that way since college. He was happy with the arrangement, never wanted any fame, and he had no beef with Charles.”
“Why did he leave the country?” Eve still thought his departure at the time of the victim’s disappearance was a little too convenient.
The Captain shook his head. “He goes to India every year about this time. Likes to be at some ashram when the guru shows up. He’s got all the receipts to back up his story. He wasn’t here. He didn’t do it. And if he’s telling the truth, with Cheston dead, he loses big.”
Eve sat back, pondering these new developments. She was disappointed that Biltmore had been crossed off the suspect list so swiftly. The list was already short, and it was getting shorter by the day.
“That takes us back to either Polland or Cheston’s drug dealers.” The Captain was thinking the same thing she was. Megan needed the two of them to find a killer.
Eve nodded. She had already talked to Megan about Cheston’s suppliers. The young woman was not convinced that the murder had anything to do with her boyfriend’s drug habit, and she didn’t know where Cheston got the drugs anyway. As far as she knew, Charles had kicked his habit and had no need for a meth source or a dealer of any other illegal substances. But even if he was using, she’d told Eve, she had no idea where the drugs came from. She had never known those details.
“I still think Polland is our best bet,” Eve weighed in. “Maybe I should check out this notion he has that Cheston was stealing from him. Maybe if that is the case, that’s our best motive for murder.”
The Captain nodded. “I called the bank from the back of the calendar you brought home from L.A. Got the name of the person in charge of Cheston’s personal finances and found out they do a lot of studio loans and handle a lot of production accounts.”
“What’s that?”
“A production account is set up for individual film projects. That’s where the money comes from for film expenses before and during the production.” The Captain pulled out a small notebook he kept in the right front pocket of his shirt. “Elizabeth White is the loan officer in charge of business accounts. Polland Productions is a main customer with various accounts, one of which bears the title ‘Project 10: The Way of Broken Trails.’ ”
Eve smiled. It was certainly the account they would be most interested in.
“And would you like to know who had the authority to withdraw from this account?” He looked up from his pad of paper. He was wearing a big grin.
“I’m guessing Ron Polland,” she answered.
“That makes the most sense, yes,” he noted. “But usually there are two cosigners on a production account. This allows for a little more accountability in expenditures.”
“So, who’s the other cosigner?” she wanted to know.
He put the notepad on the table and stretched his arms above his head. “Take another guess,” he said, and he waited until Eve was sure she knew the answer.
FIFTY-NINE
Evangeline was in luck. Ron Polland had not left New Mexico and seemed quite happy to meet her somewhere in Santa Fe. He picked the place, some small, out-of-the-way teahouse at the end of Canyon Road. She had dropped the Captain off at Megan’s house. He was meeting there with Megan and her attorney to let them know what he had found out about Biltmore and what he felt would be the best defense.
They both liked Lee McDonald, thought he was doing right by Megan, and the Captain was glad to have a chance to meet with him while he was building his case. He had not seen the lawyer since Megan’s arraignment, all their communications having been carried out by phone or by e-mail.
Eve pulled into the small parking lot beside the teahouse. She glanced around and saw a black SUV parked in a space nearest the meeting place. She figured it was Polland’s car service since there was a driver waiting in the front seat. She made herself a note to check out the license plate before she left. She got out of the truck and walked toward the little shop.
“You made good time.” He was waiting for her and held open the door.
“The house you arranged for Megan is very convenient,” she said, walking past him. “You must know Santa Fe pretty well.”
He pulled the door closed. “I’ve spent a lot of time here, yes,” he responded. “I bought property here before all the other studio shirts even realized New Mexico was a state.”
She had to smile. His arrogance entertained her. She knew that Santa Fe had been popular with Californians for more than a few decades. She didn’t know how old Polland was, but he certainly did not discover the little town.
They stood at the counter.
“I prefer the white teas,” he offered. “They have a beautiful blend from Ethiopia. It has hibiscus.”
She thought of her cabdriver in Los Angeles and decided she would have some of the African tea in his honor. Evangeline glanced around the place while he placed their orders. It looked as if the small establishment was at one time a residence, since the room in which they stood opened into other rooms, built like a house, not like a business. She peeked through the door and could see that all the rooms were set up with tables and chairs, the walls covered with art from several continents. There were large pillows in the corners and smaller ones on the seats of the chairs. The window dressings were billowy and attractive. She felt comfortable there and thought the producer had made a nice choice of a meeting location. She liked it.
“Here we go.” He handed her a large cup. “There’s a table in the back that is a little more private.”
She followed him as he walked through the tiny rooms, stopping at the last one. He gestured toward the table in the corner, and she headed over and took a seat. It was by the window, and she took the seat with the view.
“I think you’ll like this,” he said, taking the other seat. He placed his cup on the table. She did the same.
“Megan seemed okay this morning,” she commented, recalling her brief conversation with the young woman when she dropped off the Captain.
“She finally agreed to talk to me,” he responded. “Took awhile. And I suppose I owe you an apology as well. I know I came off as a bit boorish.”
Eve shrugged. “I probably had it coming,” she confessed. She picked up her cup. His hand fell quickly on hers.
“No, wait,” he instructed. “You need to let it steep a little longer. The hibiscus takes four minutes to completely release its flavor.”
She paused.
“How is your father doing?” he asked, changing the subject.
“He should be able to use the prosthetic again in a few days,” she answered.
Polland checked his watch and Eve thought that maybe they needed to move things along, that perhaps he was in a hurry. She was about to ask a question when he touched her on the hand again. “Now,” he said, and he took his cup to his lips. He inhaled as if he were smelling a flower, blew on the cup of tea, and took a tiny sip. “Just perfect.”
Eve reached for her cup and took a sip. The flavor was so light she wondered if she hadn’t waited long enough for the steeping. She lifted her eyebrows. “Nice,” she remarked, even though she thought the sturdy black tea they se
rved at the monastery was better than what she was drinking.
“It is a beautiful bouquet of garden flowers.”
Eve nodded, taking another sip. She smiled her best fake smile.
“Okay, Sister.” He seemed ready to push forward with her agenda. “Why did you call this little meeting? I somehow doubt you have a movie to pitch.”
“No,” she replied. “No movie.” She slid her chair in a bit, moving closer to the table. “I just want to ask you about something you said when I was at the house a couple of days ago.”
“Are you asking as a nun or a detective?” he asked.
She didn’t answer at first, the question catching her off guard.
“Are you doing private detective work for your father?” he followed up.
She shrugged. “Yes, I am working for my father, so I am asking as a detective.” She clasped her hands together.
He grinned.
“You mentioned before that Cheston was stealing from you. Do you have any proof of that?”
He took another small drink of tea. His beverage consumption was a lengthy process.
Eve waited.
“No, I have no proof,” he answered. “But I have a very good hunch.”
“Where was he stealing the money from?” She wondered if he would tell her about the bank fund that the Captain had discovered.
“We had a production account. He and I had to cosign to withdraw. I think he managed to take money out without my signature, although I can’t prove it.”
“Is there money missing from the account?”
He leaned in. “That’s what is so interesting,” he whispered.
She leaned in as well.
“I couldn’t check the balance for a week, password was changed for some reason. Then, right after Cheston was murdered, I got into the account, pronto.”
She waited, expecting to hear that twenty-five thousand dollars was missing, the amount owed to Biltmore. She guessed that if the victim needed money, it was to pay the writer. Since she had heard the amount that was owed to Biltmore, she figured this would be the amount missing from the production account.
“It was all there.” His body snapped back.
She shook her head. “All of it?”
“Every penny,” he said. And he swallowed another bit of tea.
Eve did the same.
“When I called the bank and talked to Betsy, I asked about the week I couldn’t get into the account, and she just said it was some bank error and that it had been rectified.” He lifted his shoulders slightly and said, “I’ll probably never know what really happened.”
“Wait.” There was something he’d said that had caught her attention. “There’s someone at the bank named Betsy?”
“Betsy White,” he answered. “She’s an assistant manager of the accounts. Nice girl. Wants to be an actress.”
“Elizabeth White is Betsy White?” she asked, recalling the name the Captain had reported as the bank representative.
“I guess so. I don’t know.”
“I’ve heard that name somewhere.”
“You’re probably thinking of Betty White. She’s a Hollywood legend.”
“No, it’s not Betty. It’s Betsy. Where did I hear that?” And suddenly she remembered.
SIXTY
“I don’t know, Evangeline.”
She had used Polland’s cell phone to call the Captain.
“It sounds like a stretch to me.”
“Well, just ask her.” She wanted to find out more about the woman named Betsy who Megan had mentioned. “She told me that Betsy was the name of somebody who had been promised a part in Cheston’s movie. She had heard a phone message from Betsy intended for the victim. She called her back. Ask Megan for the number. Just find out if it’s the woman at the bank.”
“Okay, okay.” There was a pause. “You still with Polland?”
She looked across the table at the empty seat. “He’s getting us another cup of tea.”
“He tell you anything?”
“Just that he thinks Cheston took the money from that production account and that he wasn’t able to access it for a few days. Then, after the murder, he was able to get into the account and check the balance.”
“And?”
“And it was all there.”
She could hear the sigh. “That doesn’t really give us anything to go on.”
“Just ask Megan about this woman she called, and I’ll see you in a little while.”
Polland walked back into the room. He squeezed her on the shoulder and she flinched. He pulled away, getting the message loud and clear.
She handed him the small phone. “I don’t know how to turn it off,” she said.
He pressed a button, put the phone in his pocket, and sat down.
“Your father agree with you?”
She assumed he meant her idea about the bank manager. “He said he’d talk to Megan, get some more information.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“Does your father agree that I’m a viable suspect?”
She picked up the cup of tea he had set on the table before her. She glanced up and then put it back down. She knew to wait. “I think he’s open to the possibility.”
He nodded.
“You do have a motive,” she suggested.
“And that is?”
“Cheston wasn’t delivering the work you wanted. He had let you down. You were fed up with his drug habit. And according to you, he was stealing from you.” She stopped. “And there could be something else,” she added.
He tilted his head in her direction. “I’m all ears,” he said.
“Maybe you want Megan. Maybe you love her.”
He locked eyes with Eve, sat back, and took a sip from his second cup of tea. “What would you know about love, Sister?”
“Not very much, I imagine. But I know enough.”
He took another sip, savoring it.
“What about you?” she asked, turning the tables. “You seem to know a lot about those of us choosing the religious life. You seem to know all our dirty, little secrets. You said the priesthood wasn’t a good fit for you.” She drank some tea. “I’m guessing it was the vow of celibacy that did it for you. Although I’m sure the idea of poverty wasn’t all that attractive for you either.”
He didn’t respond, appearing to ignore the dig.
“But maybe it wasn’t sleeping around you were interested in. Maybe you wanted what a lot of people want.”
“And that is?”
“Maybe you wanted to settle down, have a wife and kids.” She paused, expecting him to jump in with another comeback.
He didn’t.
She kept going. “Only, I don’t see a ring on your finger. I never hear you talk about a family. So it makes me wonder, is Megan the one?”
He put down his cup, breathed a long breath, and placed his hands in his lap. It was all very dramatic, Eve thought.
“No,” he answered solemnly. “Megan is not the one. Unlike most of my colleagues, I know better than to mix business with pleasure. Megan has a contract with me.”
Eve didn’t respond.
He continued. “I snatched her up from Podunk, Kansas, or wherever she’s from, and made her a star. She owes me, and we’re both comfortable with that arrangement. She’s more like my daughter than my lover.”
Eve nodded. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but it was making an interesting story. “I may not know much about love, as you so clearly pointed out, but I do know that loyalty is intrinsic to all intimate relationships. Husband and wife, parent and child. Maybe you hated what Cheston was doing to Megan and you wanted to put a stop to it. Maybe she feels like a daughter you wanted to protect.”
“Is that what your father would do?”
The question came as a complete surprise.
SIXTY-ONE
Another couple entered the room and sat at the table opposi
te theirs. They chatted about some piece of art they had just admired at one of the galleries down the street.
Polland was still waiting for her answer.
“Yes,” she answered, thinking about the Captain. “He would want to put a stop to anything that he thought was hurting me or my sister.”
“Even if it meant killing a man?”
Eve pondered the question. Would the Captain commit murder if he thought the man was a threat to herself or to Dorisanne?
She took another sip of her tea and remembered overhearing a private conversation that was held right after her sister’s wedding. She had needed something from her bedroom, and she had left the wedding party being held outside at her parents’ home and gone inside the house to get it. A jacket, her camera, she didn’t remember. When she stepped into the hallway, she heard a tense exchange. The voices were familiar. Two men: Robbie, her new brother-in-law; and the Captain.
“How much do you owe them?” she’d heard the Captain ask.
There was a muttered response followed by silence. She thought she heard a paper rip. From a checkbook? she had wondered.
“I’ll give you this as a wedding present, and I won’t ask for anything in return. But I’m telling you right now, Robert.” Eve recalled being surprised at hearing that name. She had never realized Robbie was short for Robert. “If you bring my daughter down, if you hurt her in any way, and I don’t just mean physically, I mean if you break her heart or ruin her dreams or her reputation, if you do anything to sully her name, I’ll find you, son. I’ll hunt you down and make you burn.”
Eve recalled how she suddenly couldn’t breathe, the words she was hearing were so harsh, so stern.
“Am I making myself clear?” he had asked, the way he always asked when he’d cornered someone or wanted some confirmation that he was understood.
And again there had been only a mumbled response. And that had been it. Eve had quickly left the hallway and gone back to the party.
Accompanying the memory, Eve also had the notion that Dorisanne may have lost contact with her husband in recent weeks because he remembered this conversation too. Maybe Robbie wasn’t running from Dorisanne, maybe he was running from the Captain.
