“But why isn’t he back by now?” Meg asked of no one in particular. Could he still be at the police station?
Her question was answered when she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Elizabeth was out of her chair before Meg could even react, and she hurried toward the kitchen and the back door. Meg and Seth exchanged glances. “Let’s give them a moment,” Meg said.
“Of course. At least we know he wasn’t arrested.”
“Or he was arrested and he’s already out on bail,” Meg shot back.
“Meg, you don’t seriously think your father has anything to do with whatever is going on, do you?”
“Did he commit all or any of these crimes? No, I don’t believe that. But is there something that he did that might have pushed someone to do him harm? Something that’s been festering for a while, maybe years? That I can believe. Not that Daddy has ever done anything malicious or cruel, not deliberately, but he might have been oblivious enough to not think through the consequences of his perfectly legal actions, and that could be a problem.”
“I see your point. So how do we fit the pieces together?” Seth asked. “We’ve got a fender bender in Amherst, the killing of the handyman, whether or not that was planned, and an attack on his law partner. Three incidents, and three different times and places. How would you connect the dots?”
“I don’t know—yet. Let’s see what Daddy has to say before we start theorizing. Maybe Arthur is a womanizer and somebody he’d rejected wanted revenge. Maybe he’s a secret gambler. Maybe he’s fronting for a drug-smuggling gang. Or maybe he woke up and explained everything and we’re worrying about nothing.” Unlikely, Meg thought.
Meg’s mother and father came into the living room, arms entwined. Phillip looked exhausted.
“What happened, Daddy?” Meg asked. “How’s Arthur?”
“Conscious, thank goodness, although that’s of little help. He can’t remember much of anything. The doctors said the specific memories might come back, or might not.”
“But no lasting damage,” Elizabeth was quick to add. “Can we all sit down?”
“Oh, sorry, of course,” Meg said.
“Would you like a Scotch, Phillip?” Elizabeth said.
“Thank you, that would be very good.” When Elizabeth had left the room, Phillip slumped back on the couch and rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t recognize my own life anymore.”
Meg sat down in a chair adjacent to the couch and leaned forward to look at his face. “I know you’ve just been over all this with the police, but can you tell us what happened? What you saw?”
Elizabeth returned with a crystal highball glass holding an inch of brown liquid. Phillip took it from her with a smile. “Meg wants to review the case,” he said. “Again.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Elizabeth said as she dropped down beside him and took his hand.
“Look, I’m just trying to help,” Meg said hotly. “If you want me to butt out, just say so and we’ll be out of here.” Seth laid a hand on her shoulder from behind, as if to hold her back. It worked.
Phillip didn’t seem to take offense. “Sweetheart, I understand,” he said, “and to tell the truth, at this point I’d be happy to have your help. The first two episodes, if you want to call them that, I could ignore as random events, but with what happened to Arthur I find now that I have to agree with your suspicions.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Mother has been filling us in on what she knows about Arthur—”
Elizabeth jumped in. “Which was surprisingly little, I’m sad to say. Phillip, you’ve known the man for years—why don’t I know anything about him?”
Meg stopped her—that was a subject for later. “Mother, please—you two can discuss that some other time. Right now, let me cut to the chase. Daddy, do you know of any reason, personal or professional, why anyone would want to do harm to Arthur?”
Phillip shook his head. “He’s a good and decent man. I can’t think of any reason.”
Meg had expected that answer. “Then I assume you know what my next question is: do you think what happened to him was the work of someone who thought he was you?”
“Probably,” he admitted. “Let me fill you in on what happened, or at least, what I know. I told your mother that I was going to the office just for a short while—I wanted to make sure there was nothing that required immediate attention, after my absence. I did not tell Arthur I was coming, because he had said he was taking some vacation time himself, I think to visit one or the other of his children, and I assumed he was still away. And since we were both going to be gone, I gave Miriam—that’s our secretary—the week off as well. Our business has not been so busy that a call can’t wait a week. But I thought I’d check in anyway, see if there were any messages. Mainly I wanted to get away from this other mess. Obviously that didn’t work.” He took a large swallow of his drink.
“So you went to the office bright and early,” Meg said. “Was the door open when you arrived?”
“It wasn’t locked, but Arthur probably left it open—he’s often careless that way.”
“I’ve never seen this office. What’s it like?”
“Essentially three rooms: a reception area, where Miriam sits, but with seating for perhaps six to eight people, and an office for Arthur and one for me. Oh, and a file room, which isn’t very large. Many of the files there date back years, and we’ve asked Miriam to sort through them and come up with some sort of plan to archive them.”
“Okay, fine,” Meg said, suppressing her impatience at the pace of his story. “So when you walk in, you’re in the reception area with Miriam’s desk. What did you see this morning?”
Phillip shut his eyes briefly, and Meg thought he suddenly looked older than his years. “I saw Arthur lying on the floor, facedown. There was a little blood on the back of his head. Red, so fairly fresh. He wasn’t moving. So of course I went to him and checked for a pulse, and when I found one I called 911 immediately, then waited for them to arrive. I didn’t attempt to move him because I didn’t know the extent of his injuries, and I thought I might do more harm than good.”
Arthur was facing away from the door when he was hit, Meg thought, and he fell forward. So he’d been surprised by someone? Someone who hadn’t expected to find anyone there? And who had lashed out with whatever was handy? Would the police buy two panicky attacks associated with the same person?
“Could someone have hidden behind the office door and waited to attack?” Meg asked.
“It’s possible,” Phillip admitted, “although no one went dashing out when I walked in. He must have been long gone.”
“Did you see a weapon?”
“I didn’t think about that at first. But when the EMTs arrived, I think they had to kick aside one of those heavy brass bookends—you remember those, don’t you? The reclining lions?”
“Oh, of course. You’ve had them in every office of yours that I’ve visited.”
“Those are the ones. One was lying on the floor, the other was where it should be, on a shelf. It never occurred to me to tell the EMTs to handle it carefully, as evidence. My first thought was that Arthur had fallen and hit his head, so I wasn’t looking for weapons. For all I know it’s still lying on the floor.”
“Did the police seal off your office?” Meg asked.
“They may have. I thought I should stay with Arthur, and I haven’t been back to check. Nor do I know whether they searched the place.”
Meg had a sneaking suspicion that if the police chief felt as much resentment toward her father as he had described, then the cops had probably been all over the so-called crime scene, looking for evidence that could implicate Phillip. She wondered how recently he had handled the lions—she had nicknamed them Castor and Pollux when she was about ten, because they were identical twins—but she wasn’t about to bring up the fact that unless Mir
iam was a manic cleaner his fingerprints would be all over them. There were more important issues to think about.
“What state was the rest of the office in? Papers scattered around, file drawers hanging open? Did Miriam have a computer, and was it still there?”
“It was only after the EMTs had left that I realized there was some mess, but the police were already there. I didn’t have a chance to see what had been tossed around.”
“Throughout all the rooms?”
“No, only the reception area, I think. As I said, I didn’t go through the entire office. I thought it more important to accompany Arthur to the hospital.”
“Were there any papers under Arthur?”
Phillip shut his eyes again, but this time to better picture the scene. When he opened them he said, “I think not. So you’re suggesting that they were tossed about after the intruder discovered Arthur in the office and knocked him out? That they weren’t actually searching for anything?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it? Did the police take pictures of the scene?”
“Not while I was there, but they might have done so later.”
Meg thought for a moment. “Okay, so Arthur unlocks the door and walks in, and startles this unknown person, who manages to get behind him and hits him with the bronze lion sitting on your shelf. Then he realizes what he’s done, when Arthur goes down and he sees it wasn’t you, and he decides to stage the space and make it look like an ordinary break-in. And then he ducks out, before accomplishing whatever he was after. Which could have been something in your files, or it could have been you personally. Was Arthur an early bird?”
“You mean, did he prefer to arrive early in the day? Yes.”
“So the intruder could have been there before most of your building’s tenants arrived, and planned to leave before they did. What kind of security is there in the building? Cameras? A guard?”
Phillip actually smiled at that. “Clearly you haven’t seen the building. Arthur and I opted for lower cost and what we called ‘period charm,’ to put our clients at ease. It’s an older building, nicely maintained, with a mix of small offices. But it has not been retrofitted with state-of-the-art electronic security devices. None of the tenants has ever seen the need for them.”
“Street cameras?”
“Meg! I have no idea. If there are cameras outside the building that might have captured images of whoever came and went, I have never noticed them. Can we simply look at this without hoping to find convenient pictures of our criminal? Don’t tell me you have such cameras on every tree in Granford.”
That comment made Meg smile, if briefly. “I think we have to assume there are no pictures.” There was a pause, and Meg looked at her watch. How had it become six o’clock? And she felt a stab of guilt: Seth and Elizabeth could have been playing gin rummy, for all the attention she had paid to either of them. “Look, guys, why don’t we take a break? Get some dinner?”
“That’s a nice thought, dear,” Elizabeth said, “but I don’t think I can face going out.”
“Let me go find some takeout,” Seth volunteered quickly. “If you’ll tell me what you want and point me in the right direction.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Seth,” Elizabeth said. “Would Chinese do?”
Nods all around. “Let me give you something—” Phillip began, but Seth stopped him.
“I’ve got it. Just tell me where to go.”
After discussing directions, Meg walked out to the car with Seth, leaving her exhausted parents sitting on the couch. “You are a saint, Seth. There are a lot of men who would have disappeared rather than sit through something like that.”
“I’m not a lot of men. I think you’re asking the right questions, and you’re not sugarcoating them. Both your parents need to hear what you’re saying. But we definitely need some food.”
“Then go and slay the dragon, or the lo mein and egg rolls—whatever looks good. I love you, Seth Chapin.”
“I know. That’s why I’m still here.”
16
Seth arrived a half-hour later with bags of food. They sat in the so-called breakfast room, because it was more intimate than the formal dining room and less crowded than the kitchen nook would have been. Everyone made an effort to avoid talking about Arthur or the attack or about Enrique or the state of Phillip’s car, which made the conversations rather strained. Seth and Meg volunteered the details of their tour of Monticello, which her parents had never seen. Seth talked about antique tools, and Phillip listened politely, although Meg knew he had little interest in working with his hands. Elizabeth smiled when anyone was looking at her, but said little, her face falling back into worried lines when the others turned away—but Meg noticed. Her heart ached for her mother: she didn’t deserve this. Maybe she’d gotten off easy thus far in her life, but to be thrust suddenly into not one but two murder investigations would be hard on anyone.
“I’ll clean up,” Elizabeth said when they’d finished eating. Meg was about to protest when she realized that having something to do would probably be the best thing for her mother.
“I think we’ll go up, then,” Meg said, glancing at Seth. He stood up and waited for her to do the same. “You both look done in. Get some sleep, will you?”
“Good night, sweetheart,” her father said as he stood and kissed her forehead.
Meg hugged her mother, holding on a moment longer than usual, and then she and Seth left the room and crossed the hall to what Meg always thought of as the grand staircase.
“Do you think any kids ever slid down this bannister?” Seth asked on the way up the stairs.
“Boys, maybe. It’s pretty high, and you could do some real damage to yourself if you slipped.”
In bed, Meg, her head on Seth’s chest, said, “I never realized how much my life would change when we got married.”
“We haven’t changed, have we?”
“Yes and no. Or maybe I should say, the unit that is now us, which is not the same thing as you and me. If we weren’t married, I wouldn’t dream of dragging you into this mess with my parents.”
“I’m doing this for you, not for them. It’s the transitive property of families.”
“I appreciate it, and I’m glad you’re here. I’m just worried that because it’s now in the ‘family’ category, you think you have to be involved.”
“You’ve been part of plenty of my family’s problems. Now it’s my turn. So, is there a plan for tomorrow?”
“We go talk to Arthur, if we can. Assuming he’s willing, and up to it.”
“Fair enough. Let’s get some sleep.”
* * *
Elizabeth was already downstairs in the kitchen when Meg came down. She looked better after a night’s rest, but in the clear light of morning Meg realized how thin her mother’s skin looked, like very fine suede. When had that happened?
“Coffee’s made, dear,” Elizabeth said.
Meg helped herself to a cup, then sat down across from her mother. “You look more rested. Is Daddy okay?”
Meg was startled when Elizabeth’s eyes darted around the room. Making sure no one else would overhear them? “He’s all right, but his doctor is worried about his blood pressure—it’s too high. That was why we went up to Massachusetts early, before the wedding. We were taking a mini vacation of sorts, to try to slow down and relax. The first few days were lovely, and of course, so was the wedding, but obviously after that things didn’t quite work out, and they’re not getting better. But I don’t see any way to tell your father not to stress out over what’s happening. He thinks he’s invincible and he’s supposed to be in charge.”
“He’s cut back his working hours, hasn’t he?”
“Perhaps by twenty percent? It’s still far more than half of what it was, although he doesn’t have to commute anymore—he goes into the city only now and then. I do want h
im to stay active and involved in something, but he has few non-stressful interests. Or any interests at all, outside of work.”
“I’m sorry. Does he mind that Seth is involved in this? I’d hate to see them butting heads to see who is top dog. Or ram. Sorry, mangled metaphor. If we could clear this thing up—”
“It would be a godsend, darling, for both of us. I hope you can. But do keep in mind that you have a life of your own now, and it’s not your responsibility to fix our messes.”
“I know that. I want to help. Are you all right? I know you’ve always looked out for Daddy because he won’t do it for himself, but you have to take care of yourself, too.”
“I’m fine, dear. Just older, and slower. I take more naps than I used to, and I forget details now and then, but my doctor assures me that’s well within the range of normal.”
Phillip came bustling in, shaved, dressed and looking energized. Seth followed. “Great news!” Phillip announced. “Arthur feels much better, and has agreed to talk to us.”
“Good heavens, Phillip,” Elizabeth protested. “Won’t we overwhelm him if we all appear at once?”
Phillip looked deflated. “You might have a point.”
“Why don’t I stay here?” she said. “After all, I don’t know the man well.”
“I’ll keep you company, Elizabeth,” Seth volunteered quickly. Meg was surprised at first, but then remembered that Seth had never even met Arthur, and he’d be just one more body in the room. “You mind, Meg?”
“No, not at all. Maybe Elizabeth can tell you what needs fixing in the house.” Meg wasn’t going to let him off the hook too easily.
“Then it looks like you and me, Meg,” her father said. “You ready to go?”
“Daddy! I haven’t finished my coffee, and I’d kind of like to eat breakfast. What’s the hurry?”
Phillip relented and sat down next to his wife. “I just want to get on with things. And you kids must want to get home. I’m hoping that Arthur can give us enough information to point us in the right direction.”
Seeds of Deception Page 13
