Death of a Butterfly (Sigrid Harald)

by Margaret Maron

  “She wasn’t going to let you have Timmy anymore, was she?”

  “She would have broken Vico’s heart. And Timmy’s.” Luisa Cavatori’s eyes glittered dangerously and her voice deepened with primitive emotion. “She was jealous of how Timmy loved us.”

  “You kept your voice down,” said Sigrid, “but not your temper. When she threatened to keep Timmy from you permanently, you picked up that flatiron and smashed her with it.”

  “Then she got up and told Timmy goodbye when we left?” parried Mrs. Cavatori scornfully.

  “Did she? You called to her from the front hall as you left and you prompted him to say goodbye, too; but did she really answer or was that something you planted in a toddler’s mind?”

  “And what did she do to his mind?” demanded Mrs. Cavatori. Her voice smoldered with intense anger. “Always picking on him, yelling, hitting. Nothing could he do to please her. A dog in the hay she was, hating the child and hating his father and teaching him to fear. You know Pavlov? Of course. Conditioned reflex. Big words, but easy to do. So easy. Every time Karl took Timmy out, when Timmy came home, she would slap him and jeer at him and put him through torment!

  “No wonder Timmy ran and hid and cried when his papa came. No matter how nice Karl tried to be one day a week, it was Julie that Timmy had to live with the other six days.”

  “That’s motive enough,” Sigrid said. “With Timmy afraid of Redmond and Redmond’s resignation to the situation, wanting only for his son to be happy, you knew you stood a good chance to get Timmy for yourself.

  “And that business contract your husband arranged with Karl Redmond—was that business or a bribe? Was he buying a product or a child? Did you plan to adopt Timmy legally?”

  “I thought of it,” Luisa Cavatori answered calmly. “All Saturday afternoon, I thought of it; but I am a superstitious old woman. Twice God has shown me that Vico and I were not meant to have children. I would not risk Timmy to tempt Him a third time.

  “Julie Redmond was a bad woman and a worse mother and I am not sorry she is dead, ma guarda! I do not say I killed her. And I have no profit by her death.”

  She gestured toward the hall which led to the bedrooms. “You think Timmy is here? No. Karl came for him an hour ago. It is not easy to uncondition a child. He was still afraid when they left, but he was not crying.

  “All these days I did give nice thoughts to him for his father and for his new little sister. Karl Redmond is a kind man and perhaps that woman is good also. She wanted Karl to bring Timmy to their home before now. Little by little, when Timmy sees the sky does not fall in on him, he will be easy and learn to love. A boy should be with his own. He will be happy.

  “So! Where now is your circumstance and motive? Say quickly, for I must go to Vico.”

  “It’s not for me to say,” Sigrid answered slowly. “I’ll turn my findings over to the District Attorney’s office. They’ll decide.”

  Mrs. Cavatori tossed her head. “I think, Lieutenant Harald, they will decide you have no case.”

  A cold anger began to build inside Sigrid as she realized how very little hard evidence there was upon which to base a strong prosecution. Sue Montrose would testify that she had not heard Julie’s voice that morning and the medical evidence would argue that Julie had been killed during the period Mrs. Cavatori was there, but neither would be enough.

  She remembered how she’d felt at seeing Julie Redmond dead on the floor of her yellow and orange kitchen. A spoiled and amoral woman, she knew now. An unfit mother. A woman who blackmailed her ex-lover, helped arrange her father-in-law’s murder, and cheated her own brother.

  But Luisa Cavatori hadn’t known all that last Saturday morning.

  “Maybe you’ve almost rationalized it and decided she deserved to die for blighting the child,” said Sigrid, “but I don’t think any of those noble thoughts were in your mind when you picked up that flatiron. I think you smashed her just because she tried to thwart you and keep you from having your own way with Timmy.”

  Mrs. Cavatori shrugged indifferently, impatient for Sigrid to be gone.

  Sigrid looked across the room to the crucifix and photographs beside the bowl of anemones and she thought of the yellow roses that had sat on Julie Redmond’s white desk.

  Nothing was neat and tidy in this world, things were seldom what they should be and justice often miscarried; but to acquiesce in private executions was to open the door to everything that she abhorred by nature and by training.

  And then she remembered Vico Cavatori’s wise face and the old man’s radiant goodness. Luisa Cavatori might not stand trial, might never spend a single day in jail, but there were other punishments.

  The older woman read it in her eyes as Sigrid turned from her and headed for the door.

  “You cannot!” she cried. “I won’t let you! It will kill him. Besides, my Vico will never believe you! He won’t!”

  “He’ll believe,” Sigrid said coldly. “He’ll believe because he won’t ask me. He’ll ask you.”

  She paused in the doorway and stared implacably at the white-faced woman. “Can you lie to him?”

  Luisa Cavatori stared back bleakly without speaking. Sigrid nodded and closed the door silently behind her.