He was still moving his glass in circles on the glass table making wet rings on it. Monty was far enough away that I doubt he could hear us. Though it didn’t look as if Emmett cared either way.
“I know this must be difficult for you,” said Roberts. “But we need to ask hard questions, and we mean no offense by them.”
Emmett looked up at him.
“I understand. You can ask what you must,” he said.
He stopped twirling his glass on the table and picked it up. With a couple of large gulps he finished it. He raised the glass and Monty came and took it from him.
“The same again, sir?” Monty asked.
Emmett nodded. Monty looked around, but we were still nursing our drinks. Except me. I’d given up on mine. Monty left.
“I must ask, Lavan,” said Roberts cautiously, “but was Mary faithful to you from what you know?”
Emmett looked up and smiled sadly at Roberts.
“Not sure if you read the tabloids, but when there’s smoke there’s often fire. I believe she has been unfaithful with me over the years. Though I’ve never caught her in flagrante as they say. For the last six months I’ve hired a private investigator. Costing me a small fortune…”
I had a feeling that was an exaggeration for a man who lived as he did. He could hire ten of me full time without breaking a sweat.
“He’s found some indiscretions, got her on film flirting with a couple of men. Nothing that I’d want to rely on in court. So yes, I believe she is sleeping around.”
“And with whom at the moment?” asked Roberts.
“William Orpen. I have no idea why,” said Emmett. He looked around and wearily shook his head. “William Orpen makes it no secret that he’s trying to sleep with as many women as he can. I think that’s the only reason he’s an actor quite frankly.”
Monty came back with a topped up drink for Emmett. He also came by with a white cloth which he used to clean up the perspiration the glasses had made on the table. Emmett smiled at him and nodded. Monty moved away.
“He’s been a godsend over the past few years,” said Emmett, nodding towards Monty. “A real British butler.”
“You mean he’s trained as a butler?” Roberts asked.
Emmett nodded.
“He’s served as a butler to both the Queen and the Prime Minister of Britain.”
He said it with pride in his voice.
“How did you manage to get him then?” asked Roberts, genuinely curious.
“It wasn’t that hard. About five years ago as things were slowly unraveling I thought we might enjoy permanent staff for our home. Mary hardly had any insight or desire to keep the home functioning. I’d always been very interested in old English manors and how their houses had run. The butler generally is the head of the house staff. Anyway, through some contacts I have in the UK, I found out that Monty might consider leaving his then post as butler for the Prime Minister.”
Roberts was genuinely enjoying this tale. It held no particular interest to me. One of the reasons I love America was because we’d managed to get rid of that class system that seemed so vile to most of us here across the pond.
“I had heard that Monty was looking at spending his last few years working for a smaller household. As you can imagine, the Prime Minister’s butler has quite a large responsibility. So I offered him a job at fifty percent higher wages than he was getting so long as he promised to work for me until he was seventy at least. And of course, you can’t discount the weather. Despite his stiff upper lip, I like to think he’d had enough of British weather.”
“Fascinating,” said Roberts. “And have you asked him about any philandering going on here in the home?”
Emmett shook his head.
“I did some months back before I hired a PI. It made him very uncomfortable. And understandably so.”
“How so?” asked Roberts.
“Well, traditionally a butler answers to the lady of the house. That lady being my Mary. And on top of that, they’re trained to be the epitome of discretion.”
“I see,” nodded Roberts.
“Yes, so it put him in a pickle, and not wanting to cause him greater stress I decided to hire a PI.”
“Have you asked him since?” I asked.
Emmett smiled at me.
“No I haven’t, Anthony, my wife just died last night. Despite my outward appearance, I’m still trying to come to terms with it.”
“Who’s your PI?” I asked.
“Rod Blanket with DIS,” said Emmett.
“DIS?”
“Discreet Investigative Services.”
I nodded. I hadn’t heard of them. Then again, I wasn’t much of a mixer in the private eye business.
“They’re made up of all ex military professionals. Very discreet and very expensive.”
I was obviously in the wrong business.
“Could you call them, Lavan?” asked Roberts, “so that we might count on their help.”
Emmett nodded.
“Certainly. Whatever you need.”
“I have to ask,” said Roberts, “but did you send your wife a gift basket last night?”
“No,” said Emmett, shaking his head.
“But you did on opening night?”
“Yes, but not yesterday.”
“Do you know who might have?”
Emmett shook his head.
“I don’t know,” said Emmett. “But whoever it was must have known that Pommie was her favorite pomegranate juice. It’s not easy to come by. In fact I know of only one place in LA where you can buy it.”
“Where’s that?” asked Roberts.
“Britain’s Best. It’s a small little import shop up on Rodeo Drive.”
I hadn’t heard of that place either. I felt like a tourist in my own city.
“Do you know who might have wanted to do this to her? Did she have any disagreements or ill will with anyone lately?” asked Roberts.
Emmett shrugged and gazed out over his grounds. He drank orange juice and vodka. It made me thirsty.
“You have to understand, we weren’t that close anymore,” he said. “She didn’t share much of her life with me. Though she didn’t seem that happy with Anna Ancher when they were here last.”
“And when was that?” asked Roberts.
“On opening night. Mary wanted to have the after-party here. A bunch of people were here. Anna was one of them.”
“And what was she unhappy about?”
“I don’t know. I asked her, but she just shrugged it off. Said Anna had ruined her trust, but she didn’t say what about.”
“Do you recall who was here?” asked Roberts, as Beeves studiously took notes.
“Uh, I think most of the cast was here and some of her other friends. Monty might have kept a list. He’s good at that sort of thing. Kyle and his partner Gary were here.”
“Kyle Labecki?”
Emmett nodded.
“Mary’s worked with him on some movies. I’ve worked with him too. A very decent man, despite what happened to him.”
“What happened to him?” asked Roberts.
“Well, he came out of the closet. That’s usually career suicide, and as much as he’s bounced back, agents certainly aren’t beating down his door like they once were.”
Roberts nodded.
“What about William Orpen, he would’ve been around then?” asked Roberts.
Emmett nodded, drank more of his orange and vodka. I was salivating at it like a dog at a Thanksgiving dinner table.
“Like I said, I believe that Orpen was likely sleeping with my wife,” said Emmett. “That was what I was trying to determine.”
“So you don’t think he would’ve done anything to hurt her?”
“No, I don’t. He’s an asshole, and when I’m through with him he won’t work in Hollywood again, but he’s a navel-gazing asshole who I don’t believe did this.”
“If you believed, and it sounds like you were right to believe, that your
wife was sleeping around why didn’t you just divorce her?” I asked.
Emmett looked over at me. He smiled at the hard questions. I liked that. It meant he appreciated the honesty.
“That was my intention, Anthony,” he said. “I wanted evidence to support the application for divorce. My lawyers believed that with such evidence, Mary might be lucky to get one quarter of what she would otherwise be entitled to.”
“So instead of just splitting your billion, you wanted to give her far less?”
“That’s correct. And it’s not even close to half a billion either.”
I nodded.
“Look,” he said, “perhaps you don’t understand. Perhaps you’ve never been married. Maybe you have, but maybe you’ve never had your wife cheat on you…”
“I’ve had all of those things, Lavan,” I said simply.
“Well then, you should understand. Bayla and I built up our fortune. Mary came along at a time I was vulnerable. She used me for connections, for money and to further her career. That much has become clear over the years. What she didn’t do, was increase my net worth substantially. When I met Mary, the best she’d done was earn herself a few bit parts on B-rated straight to DVD movies. I am a generous man, Mr. Carrick, but I am not a fool. If you cross me, I’ll be sure to seek justice. And Mary, as much as I loved her, crossed me. I wasn’t going to allow her to take me for over a hundred million dollars.”
I didn’t have anything to add to that. Roberts and Beeves were both silent. The only reason I hadn’t fought Racquel in court over financial matters was because she didn’t want much other than the child support. And I didn’t want to create additional animosity between her and I for Aibhilin to deal with. However, if I had a couple of hundred million dollars at stake, that might be a different kettle of fish to fry.
Emmett’s trousers started vibrating. He fished out his phone and looked at it.
“If you don’t mind, I have to get this. Please ask Monty anything at all. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He stood up and picked up his glass of spiked juice and answered the phone.
“Emmett,” he said as he disappeared back inside the house. Monty walked up to us but didn’t say anything. He didn’t sit down either. Rather he clasped his hands behind his back and looked from one of us to the others.
THIRTEEN
The Price is Right
“DO you enjoy butlering, Monty?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I do, sir. Especially when the price is right. And Mr. Emmett has treated me very fairly.”
“On opening night of the play, when everyone came back here for the after-party, do you recall who was here then?” I asked.
He nodded again. He reached into his inside breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thin notebook. I noticed a pen next to it that he didn’t pull out.
“Do you happen to know the day that was?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“It was six weeks ago.”
Monty flipped through the pages of his notebook with careful and nimble fingers.
“Ah yes, here it is. The play’s opening night was Friday the sixth of May, sir.”
I didn’t really need to know it but I was grateful for his diligence.
“I have a list of everyone who was here. Shall I read it?”
I nodded. Beeves got ready with his pen.
“Mr. Emmett was here of course, but I don’t think he stayed for the whole time. I believe he had to go out later in the evening to speak with the composer of his latest movie. Naturally, Mrs. Mary Beale was here as was Mr. William Orpen, Ms. Anna Ancher. Ms. Emma Durham was here as was Mr. David Twardosz. There was also Ms. Gina Penman, Mr. Sigmund Marmol, Mr. Clifton Gudaitis, Ms. Ashlee Toseland, Ms. Marissa Jonak, Ms. Patricia Kordel, Ms. Miki Smelter. Mr. Rip Peso was here briefly before we had to escort him out.”
“What happened to him?” asked Roberts.
“He arrived drunk or high, sir, and made quite a fool of himself. He was pleading with Ms. Ancher to get her back and then he launched a tirade at Mr. Orpen accusing him of sleeping with every woman there. Then he took a swipe at Mr. Orpen and that’s when we escorted him out.”
“And do you think Mr. Orpen might have slept with all the women there.”
Monty looked towards the house. Not seeing Emmett he turned back towards us.
“I suppose it’s possible, sir. He has a reputation.”
“And has he been here before when Lavan has been out and Mary has been alone?”
Monty pinched his lips together as if he was trying to hold back vomit.
“Yes, sir. I’m afraid he has. The last time was this past Friday. Mrs. Beale always sends me out, but I’ve seen him in his car halfway down the street ready to walk into the home as soon as I’m out the driveway.”
“Was anyone else here?” asked Roberts.
Monty nodded.
“Yes sir, there was also Mr. Kyle Labecki and Mr. Gary Verukin.”
“And that was all?”
“To the best of my knowledge. I retired shortly before midnight. I can’t speak as to anyone who might have arrived after that time.”
“And do you always keep notes on the comings and goings at the home?” asked Roberts.
“I do, sir, yes. Mr. Emmett appreciates my thoroughness. I also take notes of things that need to be maintained or managed as needed.”
“So you can’t tell us when the party might have wound down?” asked Roberts.
“I’m afraid not. I can tell you that at six the next morning no one was here who did not live here.”
Roberts nodded.
“The pomegranate juice you keep at the home, is it usually Tom’s Pom?” I asked.
Monty looked over at the juice in my glass that was barely touched and the rest left in the bottle. He nodded.
“What about Pommie?” I asked.
“That’s Mrs. Beale’s favorite and when I have the time I try to pick some up for her as a treat.”
I smiled. For the ultra wealthy I wasn’t sure calling a juice box a treat was quite what it was.
“And you get it from Britain’s Best?”
Monty nodded.
“Would you mind speculating if you can, Monty on who you might think could do such a thing to Mary Beale?” I asked.
Monty shrugged ever so slightly.
“I’d hate to speculate, sir,” he said. “But I can’t believe it would be anyone who was here at the party.”
“Anything in the last few weeks that seemed unusual then? Did she seem out of sorts at all?”
Monty thought for a moment.
“Well, there was a telephone call she received a couple of weeks ago that seemed to unnerve her.”
“Who was it from, what was it about?” asked Roberts.
“I don’t know, sir. It is not my position to question my employer’s intimate matters. I asked her if she was alright. She seemed distracted but she said everything was fine and that it was a wrong number.”
“Do you recall which day that was?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“Can you guess?”
Monty thought for a moment, looking away towards the expanse of grass and hedges.
“If I had to guess, I’d say probably the week of May the sixteenth.”
I nodded. I looked at my purple juice. I was thirsty, but not for sweet syrup. I had a thought.
“What about Mr. Emmett,” I said. “Does he have any enemies?”
It was a long shot. But sometimes you can hit your target with a long shot.
“No sir, I’ve never heard anyone say anything that would give me that impression.”
Emmett came back out. He had no drink in his hand. He came and sat back down with us. He smiled. Monty looked at him. Emmett looked at us.
“Do you have any more questions for Monty?” he asked.
Roberts shook his head.
“No, I think we have all we need.”
Monty left us, bo
wing and moved back towards the entrance to the patio by the open doors.
“Is there anything else I can help you gentlemen with?” he asked.
Roberts shook his head, he then looked at Beeves and then at me.
“We’ve asked you this already. But can you think of anyone, anyone at all who might have wanted to kill your wife?” I asked.
Emmett shook his head.
“I’m afraid I can’t. I can’t think of anyone. Anna and Mary had a falling out it seemed, as I told you. But she’s dead too, so she couldn’t have done it. Mary and I weren’t that close anymore. If there was something that was bothering her she didn’t tell me.”
“A few weeks ago, Monty said she seemed upset after a phone call. Do you know anything about that?”
“No. I don’t. When was that?”
“The week of May the sixteenth Monty thinks,” I said.
Emmett looked at the table and slowly shook his head.
“No, I’m sorry. Nothing comes to mind.”
FOURTEEN
A Taste of Britain
I’D left Emmett’s place less than enthused with where the case was going. Beeves thought we were making great progress. He was an idiot. We were going nowhere. We were wasting carbon dioxide and gas pissing around talking to people who hadn’t a clue.
Someone had murdered Ancher. That was clear. ME had said she’d OD’d on a mix of pharmaceuticals. It was called suspicious because it was unlikely someone would have taken that mix themselves even if they’d meant to kill themselves. So that was the first DB. That happened on Friday night, call it early Saturday morning. From what I’d heard, the ME put TOD at between one and three in the morning.
Then yesterday evening Beale ends up dead in the middle of a scene in the play she was performing in. Now two homicides in two days is nothing to be suspicious about in LA. We usually get a little over one per day. But the two people knowing each other and back to back murders like this. There was a connection. I just couldn’t find it. Not yet anyway. But if I could find the connection I’d find the killer or killers. So what was I doing? I was driving around wasting gas and CO2 talking to people. At least I was hoping to talk to someone.
Fourth Wall (An Anthony Carrick Mystery Book 8) Page 12
