by Liz Bradbury
“I don’t know about that, but there are a couple of things I do know. For one, he hid his wife’s possessions that she certainly would have taken with her if she’d left him. We also know someone was making it look as though she was still alive by sending electronic messages. It might have been Carbondale doing that to cover up her murder.”
“There’s no way anyone in here could have gotten by you?”
I shook my head, looking into the office. The crime team was going over it. In the hallway an officer with a police dog came out of the door under the stairs that must have led to the basement. He called, “All clear.”
I swear Buster’s brows furrowed when he saw the other dog.
“No one got by me,” I said, turning to Kathryn.
She said, “I was at the front door and no one came out of it.”
O’Brien heard what Kathryn said but didn’t acknowledge her.
“Here’s another spanner in the works, Ed. Looks to me like Carbondale was a trained actor. He quoted Shakespeare without thinking, and he seemed to fall back on quoting the Bard when he was lying. I think lying was a skill he’d learned. The sadness, shock, and innocence over Suzanne’s death and that guy Frankie getting shot in the cemetery may all have been an act.”
“Geez,” said O’Brien, running his fingers through his thinning hair. “So suppose he had his wife killed. Why?”
“Perhaps to get his hands on the antiques and sculpture in Victoria Snow’s studio. They’re quite valuable,” said Kathryn.
O’Brien looked over to Kathryn then back to me. He deadpanned, “New partner?”
I hesitated. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kathryn’s eyebrows lift. “Ed, this is Dr. Kathryn Anthony. She’s working with me on this case. Kathryn, this is Sgt. Edward O’Brien. He’s leading this investigation.”
Suddenly Buster crashed through his dog door and rammed Ed into the cabinets, interrupting further elucidation.
“Maybe your partner could get this dog outta here? Have the guys taken his footprints?”
Buster sat down, looked at each of us, and then lifted his paw.
I whispered to Kathryn, “He’s an orphan now, so I guess we’d better bring him to Farrel and Jessie’s.” I went to the cupboard next to the sink and found a bag of Buster’s food.
O’Brien agreed to let Kathryn take the sealed bag. She grabbed a leash and left reluctantly with her new best friend.
“I’ll see you in a little while,” I called after her.
“Partner,” O’Brien muttered, smirking.
We watched the team going over the crime scene. I ran through the case in my head.
O’Brien told me to stay while he went over the area. Then he came back to talk to me. He said, “So, whadaya think?”
I said, “Carbondale was ready to spend his own money to seal up the crypts. He tried pretty hard to keep people from going down there. Maybe Kathryn’s right. He could have been trying to get that stuff for himself.”
“What was it worth?”
“Well, if you count all the sculptures on the shelves and the huge one of marble in the back, millions. But nobody could have converted those things to that much cash. It would be worth more to Gabe as a historical discovery. Suzanne was working on a book. She could have capitalized on the sculpture find for book publicity, but they probably belong to the college and couldn’t be sold off.”
“How much cash could someone get out of that stuff on the sly?”
“Hmmm, I guess if you had the right connections you could probably get between 500K and a million. But no one could do that who was actually known in the field, and Carbondale was. He’d need to use some kind of go-between or agent.”
“Like Frankie Kibbey?”
“No, no way. Kibbey blew out $50,000 worth of stuff for $500. Frankie was working on his uneducated-own. And Carbondale was in England, Ed, how could he...”
“Maybe he found a way to come back in the middle of the conference.”
“You think he flew back here and killed her and then flew back to England? C’mon Ed, there are so many holes in that, even the Chief wouldn’t believe it.”
“No, see I figure he and the wife both found the antiques in that basement. He goes to England but knows she’s going to leave him and might turn the stuff in to the college before she goes. At the conference he lifts somebody’s passport and uses it to get a fast round trip ticket. He gets here, gets her to go to the studio, kills her in the vat, then flies back and no one’s the wiser. After the conference he goes to get the antiques but Francis Kibbey follows him. Carbondale figures out Frankie is stealing the goods and might find the wife’s body, so Carbondale shoots Frankie in the cemetery. Then when we find the wife’s body, Carbondale knows he’s in for it, so he offs himself.”
“Doesn’t work, Ed. Red said the shooter was in the crypt. Why would he make that up?” I thought for a minute. “Try this. Gabe knows about the antiques in the studio and wants the money. He’s angry at Suzanne and doesn’t want her to surrender the antiques to the college, so he hires someone to kill her. Maybe Frankie himself. Then one of them kills Frankie to keep him from talking. That would have scared Gabe into hurling, but he’d still have to use his acting skills to cover up what he knew. After that Gabe thinks Red knows about the contract he’d put out on Suzanne, or he might have just been keeping Red from telling anyone where the studio was, so someone like me wouldn’t find her body. So he tried to kill us with that van. Wait. The van. Oh shit.”
“What?” asked O’Brien.
I held up my hand and squinted into space. “Ed, I’m a fool. I... I saw that van the night Samson Henshaw called me. It was parked out on Washington.” I pointed north toward the side of the house.
O’Brien clapped his hands. “Great, it fits then. You know, Henshaw probably saw Carbondale himself get that hand truck from the van. It was Carbondale that Henshaw followed to the studio. I’ll get the investigation team to find that white van. If it’s Carbondale’s, it’ll be in the neighborhood and a little splashed paint on the front’ll clinch it. Course, if we don’t find paint on the front, then it’s not the van that chased you up the mountain.”
But I knew in my bones it was the same van.
Sgt. Marc Freligh joined the conversation. He said, “The body’s in the bus. We’re going over the crime scene now.”
“Ed, I’m really not sold on this thesis, there are so many holes. For one thing, down there in the studio only one of the boxes of stuff had even been opened. How would Carbondale have even known the stuff in the other boxes was valuable? For all he knew, they could have all been family photos,” I said shaking my head.
“Whoa, it’s your theory and it’s not bad. Give it a rest, Maggie. Carbondale got somebody to kill her, then he killed himself. Maybe just for the sculptures. You said they were valuable. We’re searching the house now. It’s a small place. Bet we find evidence of a hit. Go on and give your formal statement to one of the team and then you can go.”
*******
It was late when I got home. I stepped quietly into the bedroom. The reading lamp was on. Kathryn was in bed propped up against pillows. Her book had fallen to her side and she was asleep. The covers were pulled low enough to see she was wearing nothing. It took a minute for me to realize I was staring at her. The sight of her soft skin, her faint smile, the sheet just barely covering her breasts made me breathe deeply.
She said without opening her eyes, “Well, you won the bet. It was Lois, so I’ll give you a massage.”
“Aren’t you kind of tired from getting up before dawn, chasing around a rabbit hole... and all the other things that happened today?”
“Yes,” she yawned as she opened her eyes languidly. “But a bet’s a bet. Of course maybe I should punish you for leaving me alone for the last few hours.”
“I really didn’t have a choice.”
“Maggie, I think you enjoy helping with police investigations, even when it isn’t your case.”
“Not unlike you giving so much of your time to Victoria Snow. I think she’s going to be the other woman in our relationship.”
“Perhaps we should both be punished,” she said archly.
“Hmmmm... Then I think I should get ready for bed.”
“I do, too.”
When I came out of the bathroom, Kathryn was asleep again. I couldn’t blame her; she’d had very little rest in the last two days.
I got into the bed next to her and she stirred again, opening her eyes even more slowly.
“You’ve made promises you can’t keep,” I said gently.
“You may be right, but Friday is your big day. We should rest up for it.”
“Sounds like a deal, querida.”
*******
Suddenly it was 9 a.m. I yawned and stretched. The covers were warm and the bed was soft. I didn’t want to get out of it until I realized Kathryn wasn’t in it.
I sat up. “Kathryn?”
She came to the bedroom door, fully dressed in form-fitting jeans and a loose scoop-neck sweater. She leaned against the jamb with her arms crossed and a half-smile.
She sang, “They say it’s your birthday!” She came over to the bed and kissed me. “Happy Birthday, my dear,” she said sweetly.
I smiled and flipped the covers back. “Come back to bed?”
“Tempting, but I let you sleep late and now the drywall team will be arriving upstairs in fifteen minutes and you told Farrel we’d help. Nora’s going to lend a hand too. I saw her in Sara’s office when I went down to borrow some coffee filters.”
I stretched like a cat then hopped out of bed. “You know, Kathryn, I bet if you played your cards right you could get a whole crew of young Lesbians to build your office for you at no charge at all.”
As I closed the bathroom door she called, “Yes, well regardless of that, remember that Farrel and Jessie are having a little birthday party for you tonight. Then I’ll have some rather exciting... presents... for the rest of the weekend celebration.”
“I’ll try to be patient,” I called back. Maybe I should take a cold shower, I said to myself.
*******
The Carbondales’ deaths were all over the news. Fenchester’s current police chief had called them a murder/suicide. The drywall team was talking about it the whole time we worked.
“Isnae this the end? Squire found some dodgy way tae come back, skelped his lass in that fusty studio, then kilt that bloke in the cemetery because he wis afeart Frankie ken where her body wis hidden, and he wis afeart Red had be keeking about doone there too?” asked Nora.
Nora’s brogue had clicked into overdrive due to Kathryn. They were sanding drywall compound near the office door. I heard Kathryn snort softly. Maybe it was just the dust.
At one point I took Kathryn aside and whispered, “Stop using your magic super powers on Nora. She’s beginning to sound like a road company of Brigadoon. Be gentle or you’ll have to pay extra when it comes to my birthday present.”
“You’re right. I’ve been teasing her too much. I’ll stop. But regarding your present, I have a platinum card and I can’t wait to use it.”
I smiled devilishly and she did too.
Farrel said to everyone, “OK, we’re just about done. Maggie, Kathryn, and Nora will finish sanding this part of the wall. The rest of you can begin cleaning up and packing up the drywall tools. I have to hurry. Jessie expects me home before five.”
“Farrel?” I beckoned her out of the others’ earshot. “How late is this party going to go?”
“Why? Are you hoping to get lucky later?”
“Well, as a matter of fact...”
“I’m thinking no later than 9 p.m. Farrel’s eyes strayed to Kathryn. I could see her imagination working. She turned back to me, fanned herself with her hand and said, “I’ll ask Jessie to make espresso!”
After the crew left, Kathryn and I stood in the middle of her new office space and appreciated the transformation.
“I was afraid when all the walls were up it would seem small, but it doesn’t. It’s spacious. And there’s so much variation. The library part at the top of the spiral stairs, the quiet intimate part under the second level. I think I’ll put a couch and chairs under there, and I’ll put my desk in the big open part facing the windows. Oh, I really love it, Maggie! I’ve never designed my own space before.”
“It’s a great space. It really works,” I said looking around.
Kathryn checked her watch. “Oh crikey, we only have a few minutes to hurry and clean up and then get over to the party. I’m sorry I’m not paying more attention to you on your special day.”
“Crikey?” I said as we rushed down stairs to shower and change.
Minutes later, as we made our way down the dark street to Farrel and Jessie’s, Kathryn stopped outside their house. She said, “Maggie, before we go in, I want to... uh...”
Normally Kathryn was so rooted and sure of herself, but at the moment I could tell her vulnerable side was causing her to hesitate. I turned toward her and took her gloved hand.
“Go ahead.”
“I just want you to know... uh... I...” She put her arm around me and pulled me into a deep kiss and then she leaned back. “Happy Birthday Maggie, I... I care so much about you. These last months have been the best in my life.” She paused, searching for the right words.
This was our moment. I took a breath.
But then out of the darkness appeared Cora Martin and Mickey Murphy, the young man who lived in the upstairs of Cora’s house. Mickey, who’d been troubled and at sea when he was on his own, had found a safe harbor with Cora, and Cora had found a new purpose in life taking care of the quirky but endearing Mickey.
“Hi, Hiya, Hi!” said Mickey gleefully.
“Well, here’s the birthday girl,” said Cora. “Babies, it’s cold outside. Come along before we all freeze to death.”
Kathryn and I both smiled. I could see in her eyes that the moment wasn’t lost, just deferred. Calm down, time is on our side, I thought. On the other hand, Victoria and Evangeline had probably thought that too.
Everyone was in Farrel and Jessie’s living room. In the gallery was a table full of my favorite foods, which included but was not limited to: mini flautas filled with chicken, stuffed mushrooms brimming with crab and cheese, tiny spinach balls with sweet mustard sauce, huge chilled shrimp, figs with stilton cheese and crushed toasted walnuts, sun-dried tomato tapenade on toasted French bread rounds, and cornhusk-wrapped tamales filled with masa, fresh corn, and roasted sweet red peppers.
Can Jessie throw a party or what?
Everything was small and easy to arrange on a little plate. All the people I cared most about were in this room. And a few new people I was just getting to know.
The minute we came in, my younger sister Rosa rushed up to me and hugged me like a little kid. She’s in her late twenties but she has the joy factor of a child at an amusement park, which makes her so much fun to be around.
The woman we call Mom, the enchanting and irreverent Juana Martinez, grabbed Kathryn by the hand and drew her into the kitchen where Jessie was managing the food. Kathryn and Juana began to help.
I’d told Farrel that I didn’t need presents. Instead I’d prefer contributions to the Lenape Valley grassroots community organization advocating for the civil rights of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender people.
Sara came up to me looking festive and smart. She hugged me and put a hefty donation check in my hand. Buster the behemoth galloped between us, insisted on a pat, and then trotted back to his spot in front of the fireplace, where he lay down with a plop, grunt, and jingle. He looked like a Holstein rug with a lot of the Holstein still in it. Buster sighed in his eerily human voice.
“I bet he can’t wait for all of us to go home so he can get out of that dog suit and hit one of the corner bars,” said Sara.
Nora Hasan came in the front door and right behind her was Amanda Knightbridge. I scanned the room. The gang was all here
.
Emma Strong, Sara’s law partner, showed them where to put their coats and then Nora came over to me and Sara. She said, “Did you set this all up just to hear me say, ‘This is the best food I ever... ett?’”
“I find your accent delightful, everyone does. But I also think you’re a little too awestruck by my... novia.”
“I’m doing my best to rein meself in. But she’s formidable.”
I saw Kathryn back in the kitchen getting a stack of plates and handing them to Rosa. She tossed her head back and laughed with my family. I exhaled. “Yes, she is formidable, in every sense.”
Amanda Knightbridge suddenly appeared at my side. “Maggie, have the police ended their investigation? Are they attributing all the crimes to Gabriel Carbondale?”
“Do you have another theory?” I asked sincerely.
“Do you, Maggie?”
“I don’t feel right about all this, Amanda, but I don’t have another theory.”
“Don’t you?” Her piercing eyes actually turned from China blue to midnight blue. It was so remarkable, I couldn’t look away.
Finally I said, “I’m fairly sure that Gabe didn’t kill Frankie.”
“Ah!” she said this as though I was on the right track. Though I had no idea where the track would lead. “Who do you think killed Gabriel?”
“It looked as though he shot himself,” I said slowly.
Farrel came in from the kitchen and told everyone it was birthday girl blowing out the candles time. Since I was the subject of the gerund phrase, I moved to the dining room, where they sang to me. I made a selfish wish and blew, and then dished out pieces of deliciously rich chocolate cake.
“There’s espresso in the icing,” said Jessie in my ear. “Have a big piece and give one to Kathryn.” I laughed and hugged Jessie.
Cora handed me an envelope and then said, “Mickey has something for you, too. He made it himself.”
Mickey’s present was a drawing of the superhero Storm from the X-Men. Mickey calls almost everyone but Cora by cartoon names. The first time he met me, he gave me the name Storm.
