Sarabeth frowned. “What are you talking about? You don’t think whoever assaulted you here was trying to kill you, do you?”
She was playing this to the hilt. In a way, I couldn’t help admire her nerve. I felt fairly certain her brother Levi was the one who hit Laura, and she must have known that, if not condoned it.
“Oh, that bump on the head wasn’t much.” Laura’s airy tone alerted me that she was up to something. I tried to catch her eye but she studiously avoided my gaze. “But add to that an attempt to burn down our house while we were all asleep, and then a letter bomb delivered to the house with my name on it, and I think that adds up to attempted murder. Don’t you?”
Sarabeth paled, and she clutched at her heart. For a moment I was afraid she was going to topple over in a faint. She held on to the chair for dear life with her other hand. “Burn down your house?” Her voice came out in a strained whisper. “Letter bomb?”
Laura nodded. “Pretty nasty, isn’t it?”
“Was—was anyone hurt?” Sarabeth still had a hand over her heart. The color had yet to return to her face, and her breathing was labored.
Did I need to call 911? Was she going to have a heart attack? If she was acting, she was carrying it way too far.
“Are you okay, Sarabeth?” I moved nearer. “You don’t look so good.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be okay in a minute. Just the shock, I guess. I had no idea any of these things happened. I never dreamed—” She broke off, appearing confused.
“Sorry, what was that?” Laura asked, her expression hard.
“Nothing,” Sarabeth said. She pushed herself to her feet. “Nothing really. I’m glad you’re safe, but I really have to get back to my desk. Something urgent to deal with that I just remembered.”
“Of course,” Laura said, and we both watched her go.
The moment I thought she was safely out of earshot, I spoke. “That was truly bizarre. If she was telling the truth, she didn’t know anything about the arson attempt or the letter bomb. Was she acting, do you think?”
“Hard to say.” Laura bit her lower lip for a moment as she considered further. “If she was acting, she ought to be on Broadway right now, because she’s brilliant.” She paused, then shook her head. “But you know, somehow I don’t think she was acting. I think she really was surprised and upset.”
Before I could follow up on that, a knock sounded at the door. I jerked to attention, suddenly aware I’d let my guard down completely. Diesel, however, was meowing as he walked around the desk to greet the new visitor.
Kanesha Berry stood in the doorway. “Morning, Mr. Harris, Miss Harris. I stopped by your house, and Mr. Delacorte told me you’d be here.” She glanced down at the cat, now standing in front of her and gazing up. “Hello, cat.” Diesel meowed again.
“Come in, Deputy,” I said. “Am I ever glad to see you.”
Kanesha stepped around Diesel, but the cat followed her for the few steps she took. I motioned toward the chair. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thanks,” Kanesha said. She started to sit, but stopped abruptly and pointed to something in the chair. “What’s that? Where did it come from?”
I moved closer to see what she was talking about. In the middle of the seat lay a purple sequin and two small beads.
“They probably came off Sarabeth’s dress,” I said. “Or caftan, really. She wears these highly decorated ones. They have beads and sequins and things all over them.” I made a move to sweep them out of the chair, but Kanesha stopped me.
“Sarabeth Conley?” she said. “These came from her clothes?”
Her sharp tone told me that there was something significant about these little objects. “Yes, she was just here talking to us and sat in the chair. I was sitting there before she came in, and they weren’t in the chair then.”
Kanesha pulled out her cell phone. “Bates, come on in and bring the kit.” She ended the call. “You have something urgent to talk to me about. What is it?”
I glanced down at the seat of the chair and back at her. Her expression didn’t change. I was burning with curiosity, and from one quick glance at my daughter I knew Laura was, too.
“Yes, I do. It’s about the murders. We’ve come across some information you should have, if you don’t already.”
Kanesha didn’t change expression, but somehow I could feel her irritation. “Well, go on. What is it?”
“It’s about the Norris family. I don’t know whether you remember when Sarabeth’s father, Hubert, died, almost thirty years ago.”
Her expression altered to one of minimal interest. “I was in junior high. I vaguely recall it.”
“His death was ruled an accident. He drowned in the bathtub after drinking whisky. There was an investigation that lasted three months, but the final verdict was accidental death.”
“But you obviously think there was more to it.” Kanesha crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door frame.
“I think he might have been murdered.” I hurried through the explanation of the method, but before I could get into the motive, Deputy Bates appeared.
“Excuse me.” Kanesha pointed to the seat of the chair. “Bag that and label it ‘Sarabeth Norris.’”
Bates got to work, and Kanesha focused her attention on me again. “Please continue.”
I complied with her request, and it took me several minutes to outline the main points I wanted to make. Bates finished his task while I talked, and Kanesha motioned for him to wait in the hall. Laura kept Diesel by her side and hushed him a couple of times when he tried to contribute to my narrative. Kanesha didn’t appear amused by that, though I had to suppress a smile.
When I finally ran down, I thought I spotted a ghost of a smile hovering around Kanesha’s lips.
“Interesting.” She nodded. “Anything else?”
I decided to tell her about Sarabeth’s odd behavior during her visit just now. “What do you think?” I asked when I finished.
“Also interesting. It’s all beginning to fit together.” Kanesha nodded. “I appreciate your information, Mr. Harris.” She turned as if to leave.
“Come on, now,” I said. “You can’t just go and not say more than that.”
She turned back with an actual smile. “No, I guess not.” She glanced at Laura, then back at me. “Thanks to those little doodads in the chair, I now have pretty conclusive evidence that Sarabeth Conley murdered Connor Lawton.”
FORTY-TWO
“A sequin and two beads conclusive evidence? How?” Had they found similar items in Connor’s apartment?
“Okay, what I’m about to tell you hasn’t officially been released yet, but as the closest thing Lawton had to family, I think you should know.” Kanesha paused to stick her head out the door and confer briefly with Bates. When she finished she pushed the door closed and leaned against it.
“Why don’t you sit?” She nodded at the chair.
“Okay.” I sat, wishing she’d hurry up and start talking.
“The autopsy on Lawton hasn’t been finalized, but we do know that he was suffocated. He had a high blood alcohol content, so more than likely he was passed out when it happened, and may have died without ever waking up.”
I checked Laura and, although she had paled, she seemed composed. My heart went out to her, because I knew this was difficult for her. Having to hear the details of how a friend died is never easy.
When neither Laura nor I commented, Kanesha continued. “The pathologist at first couldn’t figure out how it was done, but she did find some odd things lodged in his nasal passages and in his beard. I had no idea where they came from until today.”
“Beads and sequins,” I said, dumbfounded. “From one of Sarabeth’s caftans. But how?”
Kanesha shrugged. “I think she maybe just wadded up part of her caftan and covered his nose and mouth with it. She was strong enough to hold him down if he roused and started to struggle.”
Laura cried out at that, and I
couldn’t blame her. The image conjured by Kanesha’s words was disturbing. I got up from my chair and went to comfort Laura. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I said softly as I squatted by her chair. I put my arms around her, and she laid her head on my shoulder for a moment. Then she pulled away to find a tissue and dab at her eyes.
“Sorry,” Kanesha said. “I know it’s upsetting, but I think that has to be the way it happened.”
“You’re right.” I shook my head as I stood. I remained beside Laura. “It’s all too easy to visualize, unfortunately. In both cases, she took the most expedient means, and the fact that she’s tall and strong made it so much easier.” Diesel rubbed hard against my legs, seeking comfort, and I rubbed his head.
“Yes. I’m going to be arresting her shortly, as soon as I can get the warrant, and you won’t have to worry about her anymore.” Kanesha smiled grimly.
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “But what about Levi Norris? Do you think he’s responsible for Damitra Vane’s murder and the rest?”
“That’s one reason I wanted to talk to you too this morning.” Kanesha sounded smug. “By the way, that was a letter bomb, and you were smart to do exactly what you did. It could have killed whoever opened it and anyone standing nearby.”
For a moment I felt like I was going to pass out, and I leaned against Laura’s chair. I managed to collect myself when I heard Laura saying “Dad! Daddy, are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” I said, though my voice sounded strained, even to me. Laura got up and insisted that I take her chair. Since my knees were still wobbly, I did, and she stood by me with an arm across my shoulders.
Kanesha, with a guilty expression, apologized. “Didn’t think you’d react that way. I shouldn’t be so blunt sometimes.”
I nodded but didn’t comment.
After a moment she continued. “You won’t have to worry about Levi Norris either. The police picked him up about an hour ago, and he’s in jail, pending charges.”
“For what?” Laura asked.
“Murder, specifically the murder of Damitra Vane,” Kanesha said. She paused for a moment. “I won’t go into the details, but Norris left evidence at the scene that I’m confident we’ll be able to link to him.”
I wanted to ask what kind of evidence, but I doubted Kanesha would answer.
“I’m sorry that you and your family had to go through all this.” Kanesha’s expression of sympathy touched me. For once I truly believed she empathized. “I’m sure Norris was responsible for both the letter bomb and the arson. But it’s over now. You’re safe.”
“Thank you, Deputy,” I said. “I’m so relieved, I don’t know what to do.”
“Me, too,” Laura said.
Diesel had to add his few cents’ worth, and that eased the tension. Even Kanesha laughed. She bade us good-bye and disappeared out the door.
I looked up at Laura, still leaning against me, and smiled. “Let’s go home and share the good news.”
The following weekend, we were all gathered in the kitchen, along with Frank Salisbury and Helen Louise Brady. Sean had invited Alexandra Pendergrast, but she couldn’t join us. Helen Louise provided the dessert, Stewart outdid himself with dinner, and Frank brought the wine. The mood was festive, and we celebrated heartily.
Conversation as we finished our dessert inevitably centered on the arrests of Sarabeth Conley and Levi Norris.
“It was all rather anticlimactic, as it turned out.” I sipped at the excellent pinot noir Frank supplied. “I was all geared up to argue with Kanesha and make her listen to me. I just knew she was going to argue, but the way it turned out, I didn’t have to.”
“As long as it’s over, who needs a tense confrontation with the murderer?” Helen Louise laughed. “They always seem a bit contrived in some of the books I read.”
“I know what you mean.” Stewart shook his head. “I’ve seen every episode of Murder, She Wrote, and I adore Angela Lansbury to pieces. But you’d have to be insane to let Jessica Fletcher within ten yards of your house. Talk about harbingers of death. And the way she was always rounding everybody up and then Revealing All.” He treated us to a theatrical shudder.
“That’s television.” Sean snorted. “We all know it doesn’t have a lot to do with real life.”
“I’ve had enough of real life to do me for a while,” Laura said. “It’s so nice just to settle into a routine with my classes.”
“What about the play your students were going to be doing?” Justin asked. “With all that’s happened, are you just going to forget about it?”
“No, we’re going on with the project, just a different play. I suggested several, but”—Laura rolled her eyes—“Montana Johnston insisted we do his new play. Of course I can’t say no.”
Frank snickered. “Maybe another rousing failure will finally convince him to stop writing plays. He obviously has no talent whatsoever for it.”
“Without Connor here to insult him, he can pretty much ignore anyone else.” Laura frowned, and I knew she still grieved over the death of her friend, though she seemed to be the only person who did.
Frank clasped her hand in his, and she smiled. The adoring glance he bestowed upon Laura surprised no one. The two were now practically inseparable, and I kept expecting to find that he’d moved into my house.
They hadn’t gone that far, however, for which I was thankful. I’m rather old fashioned about some things, and that was one of them. If their relationship continued and they wanted to move in together, I’d have to live with that. But as long as Laura was here, under my roof, well, there were limits.
The conversation drifted onto other topics, and I sat and observed the interactions among my family and friends. Helen Louise chatted easily with Sean and Justin, while Frank, Laura, and Stewart discussed plays they’d seen in New York.
The four-legged members of the family were sound asleep under the table, their tummies full, worn out by more attention than they knew what to do with. Dante snored lightly, while Diesel occasionally woke to stretch and yawn. He then went right back to sleep. I smiled at the sight and enjoyed the general air of contentment and relaxation. This was how it should be, family and friends happy and enjoying one another.
I thought briefly of Sarabeth Conley and Levi Norris and their sad story. Sarabeth apparently continued to insist that her father’s death was an accident, but she had admitted her guilt in Connor’s murder. She simply refused to say why she’d done it.
I believed I knew why. When Sarabeth saw Lawton’s play being workshopped, she realized the scenes were too close to reality. I was sure Lawton was present, hiding in the kitchen cabinet, and overheard Sarabeth planning her father’s death. He was too young to understand the implications at the time, but the repressed memories were there, waiting for some stimulus to revive them. The memories of the people and their actions seeped into his writing, and Sarabeth must have feared that the playwright would eventually realize that his work wasn’t simply fiction. She stole the laptop and killed Lawton to keep the truth behind her father’s death from ever being revealed.
That solution seemed reasonable to me. Perhaps the full details would come out during the trial.
Yesterday I had received a letter from her, and the moment I realized the source I was tempted to throw it away unread. But curiosity got the better of me, and I read it.
The letter contained an apology, of sorts. Sarabeth talked about family and how important it was, particularly the relationship between parents and children. “Sometimes,” she wrote, “parents will do anything—even kill—for the sake of their children. Surely you can understand that, Charlie?”
I did, but I had to deplore what she had done on her brother’s behalf.
But there was more to the letter, and my eyes widened with shock when I realized what Sarabeth was telling me.
“Having a child is a terrible responsibility, and we don’t always raise them very well. My parents didn’t do too well by me, but that’s life. Mistakes h
appen and can’t be fixed, but he’s my son, though he doesn’t know that, and I had to protect him. I hope you can understand that.”
She signed it with only her name, Sarabeth.
Levi was her son. The revelation stunned me.
I hadn’t shared that with anyone yet. I wasn’t sure if I would. Sarabeth had entrusted me with a secret, and I thought I should respect her confidence, despite all that had happened.
I focused gratefully once more on my family and friends and let the warmth and joy of their presence envelop me, thinking all the time how lucky I was.
File M for Murder Page 25
