Death in a Summer Colony

by Aaron Stander

  “It’s hard to be wealthy in this country without enemies. The investment industry is very competitive. He was smart, daring, and a risk taker, albeit a very shrewd, informed one. He seldom lost. I think that did earn him the antipathy of some of his rivals.”

  “Anyone angry enough to want to kill him?”

  “In an abstract way, yes. But I don’t think anyone would operationalize their feelings. After all the bravado and chest pounding, they are a pretty meek bunch. If they did want someone dead, they would hire it out.”

  “Was Mr. Wudbine the subject of any litigation?”

  “This is a litigious society, Sheriff. Anyone in business is constantly dealing with this irritation. But to answer your question, nothing of any consequence. And to respond to the follow-up question that you haven’t asked yet, he was not subject to any criminal complaints, none, either at the federal or state level.”

  “How did you get along with your father-in-law?” asked Sue.

  “We were,” she paused for a long moment and stared past them, “we were great friends. Malcolm was an exceptional man. Why anyone would choose to harm him is beyond comprehension. Once all of this is taken care of, I will allow myself to grieve.”

  “I’m trying to get a sense of where everyone was Saturday evening. Before going to the Assembly Building, where did you start from, who did you see…would you provide a scenario of everything that happened until I met with you in the green room.”

  “I was at our cottage waiting for Elliott. He flew commercial to Traverse City, Alyson Mickels and Malcolm picked him up in the Bell. He arrived just about the time I was leaving. On the way I fell in with the group coming from Verity’s gala. I don’t quite understand the wisdom of drinking before you go onstage. But I am a total neophyte, unaware of the customs and traditions of theatre people.”

  “So you’d never been in a play before?”

  “No, never.”

  “What prompted you to participate?”

  “Forty, suddenly being forty. Realizing my life is half gone. I needed to do something new. I needed to explore. Malcolm encouraged it, said it would be good for me.”

  “And you enjoyed the experience?”

  “Very much so…until….”

  “So you joined the group walking to the theater. Continue from that point, please.”

  “I put on my makeup, got into my costume, and started reviewing the script. I had done well in the rehearsals. In fact, I was often prompting my fellow actors with lines as well as giving my own. I found a quiet corner and tried to filter out the hubbub and concentrate on my part.”

  “Where were you located at this point?”

  “Initially, I was in the green room, but it was too noisy, so I found a place in the women’s dressing room. Once the curtain went up, I came back to the green room so I’d be ready to go onstage. I have a brief appearance in the middle of the first scene. After that I went to the green room.”

  “Did you see Mr. Wudbine at that point or before?”

  “I saw him as soon as I returned to the green room. He was in costume and had these dreadfully awful wounds he wanted to show me. There was still a bit of a boy in him, most endearing. I told him to ‘break a leg’—that’s something theatre people say—and he rushed away. He said he wanted to settle into his part. That was a joke. We both laughed.” Jill stopped and gazed around the room, never making eye contact with Ray or Sue. “Then it all sort of gets confused. I was sitting with the playbook, and there was the horrible crash of thunder. Then the lights went out. I don’t like darkness. Nyctophobia. I just sat and focused on my breathing, trying to stay calm, trying not to have a panic attack. People were talking, some using the glow of their phones to move around. Eventually the lights came back on, but somehow everything seemed horribly odd. I can’t put my finger on exactly what made me think that. Then Sterling came in with Grubbs. I just knew someone was dead, but Malcolm, he never crossed my mind. He was larger than life. I always thought of him as being almost immortal.”

  “Before the lights went out, was there anyone around who shouldn’t have been? Were there any strangers? Did anything seem out of place or amiss?”

  Jill’s answer was slow in coming. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I was into being Anne Protheroe. This acting was not easy for me. It took all of my energy. When I’m focused on something, I’m not very observant of the world around me.”

  “You mention Richard Grubbs. He’s your father, isn’t he?”

  “My mother, before she died, referred to him as my sperm donor. She was a very hostile woman. I don’t understand why she stayed with him. Yes, he’s my father, but we don’t speak. When I was growing up he wasn’t ever there. Physically he was sometimes, but not often. He was off in his world of books and history. He was always with his colleagues, with his graduate students, and never with us. Even up here in the summer, he was busy writing or doing research. He never had time for us.” She paused and for the first time during the interview, held eye contact with Ray for several seconds. “He doesn’t talk to me now. I don’t talk to him. It’s better for both of us.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have a motive to kill your father-in-law?”

  “Absolutely not. His murder is beyond my comprehension.”

  “You sent me a tentative list for interviews with other members of the family and household this afternoon. We are already running behind. Can we modify that and get this done today?”

  “I’ve started on that already. People are waiting for my call. There will have to be one exception. My mother-in-law is not available. Brenda is physically and psychologically fragile. Her psychiatrist is flying in this afternoon. She may have to be hospitalized again. Is there anything else, Sheriff?”

  “As his personal lawyer, you must be familiar with his will. Who would benefit from Mr. Wudbine’s death?”

  Jill rocked in her chair—a slow, almost imperceptible motion—with her eyes cast down at her hands. Finally she looked up, not at Ray or Sue, just a gaze over their shoulders at some distant point. “Everything has been carefully provided for in an elaborate series of trusts. The majority of the estate goes to the foundation. Controlling interest in the corporation goes to Elliott. Brenda Wudbine is provided for. Most of the money is in trust to protect her financial future. We’ve had all of this in place for years, modifying the trusts from time to time to adjust to changes in the law.”

  Jill looked across the table at Ray. “We are in the process of planning a memorial service. When will the body be returned to us?”

  “Probably later this week. In all likelihood an autopsy will take place tomorrow. Depending on the findings, they may want to keep it a few more days for further studies. Have you established a tentative time and place….”

  “We are just beginning that conversation.” Jill looked at her watch. “Sheriff, here’s the tentative schedule for the rest of the afternoon. She pulled a folded piece of paper from her shoulder bag, opened it, and pushed it across the desk. “I can have Alyson Mickels, who serves as our concierge, meet you here at 3:00. And I have tentatively scheduled Pepper Markley at 3:30.”

  “What is her position?”

  “She wears a number of hats: personal trainer, pilot, and head of security. She drove Malcolm to the Assembly Hall last evening.”

  “I have Elliott scheduled at 4:00. Please go easy on him. He’s very sensitive and has been completely shattered by these events.”

  “Are there other people living or working at Gull House?”

  “We have a housekeeper, a chef, and a caretaker.”

  “I would like to talk with them also. Could you schedule that for tomorrow morning?”

  “Well, they really don’t know anything. They are totally out of the loop, but if you insist. Is there anything else, Sheriff?”

  “Thank you for your cooperation. I will un
doubtedly need to talk with you again.”

  Ray signaled the end of the interview by standing, and he and Sue remained silent until Jill exited, settled onto the seat of a golf cart, and rolled out of sight.

  “The woman is without affect. Can’t make eye contact. Verity mentioned Asperger’s,” said Ray.

  “Not possible.”

  “Why?” asked Ray.

  “Article in the Times last winter. Asperger’s is passé. Now it is spectrum disorder.”

  “Think she’s a killer?”

  “Don’t know. I wonder what’s hidden beneath that shell.”

  22

  Ray looked across the table at Alyson Mickels. Her strong shoulders and arms extended from a black tank top, the stretchy material clinging to her toned body. The subtle pink of her lipgloss contrasted against the tight tan skin. Alyson’s long blonde hair was pulled into a French twist. She reached up with her left hand to push back a few errant strands.

  “How long had you been employed by Mr. Wudbine?”

  Mickels held Ray’s eyes steady in her gaze. After a few seconds delay, she responded, “It’s been about two years.”

  “What did you do before that?” asked Ray.

  “I was a commercial pilot.”

  “And before that?”

  “I was in the military, naval aviation. I graduated from Annapolis and thought I would make my career in the service. But I eventually grew beyond that. I needed some new challenges.”

  “What was the path that brought you to work for Malcolm Wudbine?”

  “Like I said, I had been working as a commercial pilot, and with the slowing of the economy I had been laid off. A friend from the Academy was a principal in an exclusive personal security firm in Chicago. He thought I had the right skill set for his business. The pay was good, and I learned the ins and outs of the profession. The other thing I learned very quickly was that you were mostly sitting around waiting for clients. So I spent a lot of time at a gym getting rid of my frustrations and working at staying fit. The gym owner noticed that I was in better shape than any of his personal trainers. He offered me a job, part-time at first, and guided specific clients in my direction. Malcolm Wudbine was one of those clients. It soon became clear to both of us that I had the right competencies to serve in a variety of roles in his personal and professional life. In addition to being a skilled personal trainer, I have commercial licenses in both fixed wing and rotary, and I can manage a security operation.

  “I probably wouldn’t have picked this kind of work. It’s very intrusive on my personal life. However, Mr. Wudbine provided generous remuneration and benefits. I thought it was something I could do for a year or two.”

  “Tell me about the security part, especially up here.”

  “I did some one-on-one work for him as a bodyguard. I also worked as a liaison with the security firm that provided services to his offices, his apartment in the Loop, and their house in Kenilworth. When we came north, my job really was pilot and personal trainer. He didn’t feel he needed protection here. I did keep my eyes and ears open for any possible dangers. I did a security assessment of the colony and environs, including the actors and other people connected with the theater. Most of these people have known one another for decades. There were no apparent threats.”

  “What were your other job responsibilities?”

  “To be available at all times as a pilot, trainer, chauffeur, or companion. I usually accompanied him on trips to town and around the area. I think for him it had more to do with companionship than any security consideration. He liked being chauffeured, he liked having someone to talk to.”

  “This perceived need for security, was it caused by any specific threats or…?”

  “There were no specific threats. But as you know, Sheriff, there are a lot of people out there with anger toward corporate types and Wall Street. You never know when some crazy is going to pop up. Mr. Wudbine was a public personality, his many charitable activities attracted media attention. I think he was just showing proper caution.”

  “So you told us that you dropped him off at the theater. What time was that?”

  “He was running late. I think it was getting close to eight. We had flown to Traverse City to pick up Elliott. His plane was late, weather slowdown in Chicago. When we got back, I ran them up to the house from the heliport. As soon as we went in, the two of them disappeared into Mr. Wudbine’s library. Eventually, I drove Elliott to his cottage and came back for Mr. Wudbine and drove him to the Assembly Hall.”

  “So what did you do then?” asked Sue.

  “I parked the golf cart away from the building under a tree. I had a seat at the rear of the auditorium. I was planning to watch the play.”

  “Were you alone?”

  “No, Elliott had a seat next to mine. He arrived just before the curtain went up.”

  “Continue.”

  “Sometime after the opening curtain, it really started to pour. I slipped out and moved the golf cart down to the picnic shelter. After I toweled off the cart, I stayed put waiting for the rain to let up. Elliott called as I was checking my e-mail. He said his father had been killed. I picked him up at the stage door, Jill and Pepper also, and brought them back to Gull House.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I stayed with the family. And soon after you appeared, I excused myself. Can I ask a question?”

  “Please,” said Ray.

  “How was Malcolm killed? Elliott said something about him being stabbed.”

  “I’ll know more when I get the autopsy results, but that’s essentially correct. You seem to be extremely aware of what was going on in Mr. Wudbine’s world. Was there anyone who had a motive to kill him, anyone in his professional life, his personal life, or his family?”

  “Sheriff, I’ve thought about that a lot. I didn’t sleep much last night, and I’ve been consumed by that question all day. The answer is no.” She paused, brushing aside loose hairs again, and continued, “However, this clearly wasn’t a random act. Sheriff, my primary job here was to look after Mr. Wudbine’s personal security. Obviously, I failed. Yet, I don’t think I could have done anything differently. He was the employer, he dictated the terms of the security envelope I provided for him. When he was in the colony, he often wanted to be solo. That was especially true with rehearsals. I wish I had more for you, but I don’t.”

  “I’ll probably need to talk to you again. What are your immediate plans?”

  “Jill Wudbine has asked me to continue in their employment for at least the next month. I will be staying in the area as long as she is here.”

  “You were awfully quiet,” said Ray to Sue as they watched Alyson Mickels march up the sand trail.

  “Sometimes I just want to observe. It’s hard for me to watch for nuances if I’m concentrating on forming questions.”

  “So what did you see?”

  “Mickels checked you out. I won’t say she undressed you—sorry, no such luck boss, but she did take in everything. Then she looked me over carefully. I was quickly surveyed. You were carefully examined. I was amazed by the way Mickels mapped the room, her so-called ‘environmental scan.’ I’ve never seen such discipline and focus. She was listening to your questions and always took a few seconds after each one to formulate her response. And before her words were out of her mouth, she was anticipating your next question. I suspect, and I’m using her parlance here, she was doing a ‘threat analysis.’”

  “So you think she’s involved?” asked Ray.

  “I didn’t say that. But she certainly wants to know where she’s going to end up in this whole affair. At a minimum, she hopes that she’s not going to be pulled into anything that will tarnish her reputation or damage her employability.”

  “And at a maximum?”

  “I’m not ready to speculate on that. She could have del
ivered the fatal thrust to Wudbine with a dull teaspoon. Mickels is a trained killer who knows we are going to be giving her a close look, so she’s carefully weighing her options. She wants to come out of this unscathed.” Sue looked at her watch. “I know you like to have a second set of ears, but I’ve got some things that need to be done.”

  “Fine, what are you up to?”

  “I want to see if I can lift any fingerprints from the main shutoff switch. There are also backstage areas I want to look at again. We focused on the trash because it was going away. Now I want to attend to other areas I skipped over like the carpentry shop, lots of old tools tossed in boxes and drawers in no order. Then there’s the kitchen area with a variety of sharp things. And using the playbill and the other names we’ve collected so far, I’ll start checking for priors or outstanding warrants and also see if Wudbine was currently subject to any litigation. E-mail me the audio files of the next two interviews, and I’ll listen to them sometime this evening. When we meet tomorrow at 7:00, we’ll be on the same page.”

  “I didn’t say anything about meeting at 7:00.”

  “You didn’t need to.”

  23

  The first thing Ray picked up on as Pepper Markley carefully settled in her chair was her perfume, subtle, not cloying, but distinct and impossible to miss.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Struggling. The initial shock, too little sleep, just trying to come to grips with the whole thing.”

  “How long have you been with the Wudbines?” Ray looked at her closely. He guessed that Pepper was about thirty. She appeared exhausted, but also very wary. Her dress was preppy, her hair skillfully cut and shaped.

  “This is the start of my third and was probably going to be my last year.”

  “Last?”

  “Working for Mr. Wudbine was a 24/7 arrangement. I am paid extremely well, multiples of what would be usual for this type of position, but I don’t have much of a life. It was about time to move on.”