Ghost on the Case

by Carolyn Hart

  Five men . . .

  Chapter 12

  I’d gathered a great deal of information about the men who would be affected by a big change at Fitch Enterprises. I’d felt even more confident I was on the right path when Sam Cobb reported the visit from Minerva Lloyd. I pictured the interchange between Wilbur and Minerva, a domineering man enjoying a show of power—I’m making a big change—with an admiring woman as his audience, a buck pawing the ground near a doe. Obviously Wilbur enjoyed women, liked beauty, wouldn’t hesitate to emphasize his strength. But I didn’t feel an iota nearer knowing which of the five was a killer, even after speaking with each of them. Time was running out. There was one more possible source of information.

  Juliet Rodriguez evidently never met a stranger. She beamed at me as she opened her apartment door. “Detective, come right in.” She waved me to the sofa, closed the door, and hurried to join me. “I’m so glad to see you. It’s as if it’s meant to be.” Her gaze was now earnest. “I saw in the paper—”

  The Gazette would be pleased to know it was so widely read.

  “—that Susan is trying to help you, and I thought we all should be trying to help, and I’ve thought and thought and I hate to say it”—and now her lovely face drooped—“but Wilbur was so mad. I talked to him Tuesday afternoon. He came in the library and he was just beside himself. I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone, but what’s true is true. I wasn’t going to say anything but here you are.” And now she clearly struggled. “I hate to say anything because I liked him. So handsome. Not anything like his father with that dark hair and those blue eyes. But Wilbur said he was going to wipe his name off of everything, drop him from the will. He said there was nothing worse than a son who thought he was better than everyone else.”

  • • •

  Rose Bower was bequeathed to Goddard College by Charles Marlow. The Marlows were great supporters of the college, and his wife Lorraine’s portrait hangs in the library on the first-floor landing of a double stairway. Light shone cheerfully through the ornate rose window above the front entrance. I moved inside and was pleased to see that the stately rooms beyond the huge marble foyer lay in darkness except for lavalieres on the side of each archway. To my right the chairs behind a magnificent rosewood desk were empty. The college used this expansive structure to host grand events and also to provide on the second floor elegant rooms for visiting dignitaries. If an event were planned or guests expected, the desk would be staffed.

  I was ready to go upstairs when I noticed a stack of newspapers on one side of the desk. I was there in an instant. I picked up the Gazette and scanned the headlines:

  SECOND MURDER ON FITCH ESTATE;

  BUTLER FATALLY SHOT IN LAKE CABIN

  SUSPECT’S SISTER CLAIMS FITCH

  SECRETARY FRAMED

  TIME OF DEATH IN QUESTION;

  WAS 10:07 GUNSHOT RELEVANT?

  I went straight to Joan Crandall’s breathless depiction of Sylvie Gilbert (gallant and determined) and how she single-handedly disrupted Mayor Neva Lumpkin’s noon press conference about the murder of Wilbur Fitch early Wednesday morning and the murder of his butler, Carl Ross, Wednesday night.

  I loved Joan’s lead.

  Official Adelaide was no match Thursday for a sister on a missi—

  “Hey”—the voice was high and uncertain—“how are you doing that? Buddy, where are you? How’d you make the paper hang in the air like somebody’s reading it?” A few feet away a slender girl with auburn hair and a sweet face stood by the desk. Although she and her apparent coworker Buddy (In the men’s room? At the soda machine? Outside on his cell phone lining up a date?) were absent when I arrived, she was now on the scene.

  I had been too absorbed to hear her approach. I looked at the Gazette, and of course it looked like someone was holding the newspaper at eye level and reading because I was holding the newspaper at eye level and reading. As clever people, the kind who take physics, would be the first to agree, newspapers do not suspend themselves in the air. Regretfully, I let the sheets slip from my hands and flutter to the floor.

  The girl watched the descending newsprint much the way she might have observed an upside-down car driving by.

  I very much wanted to read the stories about the investigation, but I would have to return at a later time and cautiously filch a Gazette.

  From the second-floor landing I looked down.

  The girl was approaching the scattered sheets stealthily.

  I suspected that when she gathered up the sheets and found no evidence of an elaborate mechanism to account for a newspaper hanging in the air before suddenly descending to the floor, she would devise a reassuring explanation: The newspaper on the desk was blown into the air by an inexplicable gust—the door opened or the heating system hiccupped—and she’d only imagined that it was being held as though being read because, of course, no one was standing there. She could be sure of the latter. She’d seen it with her own eyes.

  It would never occur to her that a ghost held the paper and that excused my inadvertent transgression of Precept Six: “Make every effort not to alarm earthly creatures.”

  Last night I’d stayed in the Red Room. A fine porcelain nameplate is attached to the door of each guest room. What would I choose tonight? I bypassed Scholar, Cardinal’s Nest, Gusher, paused at Will.

  Shakespeare is always good company: Strong reasons make strong actions. Murder is a strong action that springs from a powerful motive. When I knew which motive mattered, I would see the face of a murderer.

  Inside I realized my mistake. I should have known when a pattern of lariats bordered the nameplate. The lariat motif was continued around the borders of framed quotations from Will Rogers. Rogers is perhaps Oklahoma’s most famous native son, rodeo star, movie actor, comedian, political commentator, author, and a whiz at lassoing livestock. The quotes were embroidered in bright red letters against a dust-colored background. I read all the quotations, returned to four.

  This would be a great world to dance in if we didn’t have to pay the fiddler.

  Diplomacy is the art of saying “Nice doggie” until you can find a rock.

  We are here just for a spell and then we pass on. So get a few laughs and do the best you can. Live your life so that whenever you lose it, you are ahead.

  Why not go out on a limb? That’s where the fruit is.

  The decor was bunkhouse comfortable with lots of leather and maple and the aura of don’t-be-the-last-to-saddle-up. I settled in a green leather easy chair. How could I be in a room suffused with the exuberance of Will Rogers and not succeed at my task? It was a matter of judgment. I had the information. Instead of a wide-open search for a double murderer, I knew with certainty that one of five men was guilty. I had spoken with each of them. So what were the anomalies?

  The Tiffany lamp on the table next to my chair shone on a spiral notebook and a pencil. I picked up the notebook, the kind my students used in long-ago classes, and the soft-leaded pencil. I flipped open the notebook, wrote.

  Ben Fitch

  Motive:

  Wealth. Power. His last encounter with his father ended in a shouting match. Ben appears to be grieving. If he killed his father he would act the part of a bereft son. In his defense, he supports Sylvie Gilbert’s effort to weaken the case against Susan.

  I liked Ben Fitch and, face it, he was hugely appealing to women, that curly dark hair and those blue eyes and air of the islands with his tanned skin. But what could appear more innocent than to rush to the defense of the woman he’d set up so nicely to take the blame first for his father’s murder and then for the man foolish enough to attempt blackmail. The pencil moved swiftly.

  Points against Ben:

  He profited hugely.

  Juliet said Wilbur was going to disinherit him, was “beside himself” with fury. He was staying in the house and could easily knock on his father’s door after the party Tuesday nig
ht. His father would have had no reason to fear him.

  He could use any phone in the house to call Susan’s cell Wednesday night.

  He grew up in the mansion, knew the surroundings, would be comfortable standing in the shadows by the lake to shoot the gun to implicate Susan after her arrival at the cabin.

  He was young and strong, would have had no fear of dealing with Carl Ross.

  He was smart, quick thinking. Was it quick thinking that prompted him to lay out the scenario that must have occurred, a knock on his father’s door, a familiar face, a claim the study light was on, the safe exposed, a suggestion they go down to see, a quick rush downstairs, the decision to open the safe and check its contents, a jarring blow from behind?

  Points in Ben’s favor:

  Red-rimmed eyes and difficulty talking about the murder of his father.

  Successful businessman on his own and no apparent hunger to run the Fitch empire, instead accepting his role as CEO as a duty.

  Attracted to Susan Gilbert.

  Standing by Sylvie at the press conference, offering the weight of the family name.

  George Kelly

  Motive:

  Money. A client like Ben Fitch would have absorbed most of Kelly’s time. How would he fare as a lawyer if Ben Fitch meant what he said, that Kelly was on his way out as the attorney for Fitch Enterprises? Now Kelly would continue to fatten on the Fitch money as he settled the estate for big fees and Ben Fitch would have no reason to fire him as the company lawyer.

  Pride—Kelly lost a case Wilbur thought he

  should have won, and no man in Oklahoma wants to be described as a steer, i.e., an emasculated bull.

  Nothing succeeds like success and nothing is more damaging to a professional’s stature as the loss of a big client. Being dumped as Wilbur’s lawyer would likely have been devastating both financially and professionally.

  Points against George:

  If fired by Fitch, Kelly faced severe financial loss.

  Fees for estate work will be substantial, perhaps a half million dollars.

  A tough dude. Would have felt capable of dealing with Carl Ross.

  Exhibited surprise to learn there was some doubt about Susan’s involvement.

  Points in George’s favor:

  Dismissed company employees as possible suspects. May have been negative about Susan because she turned him down for dates.

  Appears relaxed and confident.

  Was known to have combative relationship with Wilbur yet remained his lawyer. Likely Wilbur admired his attack-dog response to confrontation. Lawyers thrive on conflict. That’s what they do.

  Harry Hubbard

  Motive:

  Greed. Harry Hubbard lived a soft and comfortable life. He worked for his stepfather but apparently his main duty was to serve as a golf companion. He never minded asking Wilbur for expensive gifts, used charm and good humor to inveigle indulgences. He inherited enough money to provide a great many luxuries.

  Wilbur and his stepson were apparently on good terms with no suggestion of a quarrel or disagreement. Harry’s easy charm made it difficult to imagine him committing murder. In very different ways, Harry Hubbard and Ben Fitch were appealing and likable.

  Points against Harry:

  He wanted a lifestyle that exceeded his income.

  He was knowledgeable about both Susan and Sylvie Gilbert.

  He checked out long-term rentals for pricey condos in Aruba and Tahiti. Was this winter dreaming or making plans for a soon-to-come inheritance?

  Inherits five hundred thousand dollars, which will buy a lot of expensive pleasures he couldn’t afford on his salary.

  Didn’t have his usual affable expression in the FB photo with the poker players. Those were not the kind of dudes to owe money to. Could that be a problem for him?

  Alan Douglas saw Harry as a house cat and not a risk-taker, but Harry persuaded Sylvie Gilbert to skydive with him.

  Points in Harry’s favor:

  Harry was charming, easygoing, never quarreled with anyone.

  Harry dismissed the idea anyone at the company killed Wilbur, including Susan.

  House cats are not lions.

  The brilliant decoy of Sylvie to create the appearance of a kidnapping seemed as unlikely as Harry suddenly playing a Stradivarius.

  “Not so fast,” I scolded myself. Harry might not be a whiz at algorithms, but he had an instinct for people, how to please them, charm them, motivate them to make the house cat purr.

  Alan Douglas

  Motive:

  The SIMPLE Car. Wilbur turned down the SIMPLE Car, but Alan claimed Wilbur agreed to waive the company’s ownership. Now Alan counted on Ben making good on his father’s promise. What if there was no promise?

  Alan’s life appeared to be fairly monastic. Perhaps his only passion was the orange plywood model of his brainchild. He appeared diffident, even gentle, but how would he react if his concept was not only dismissed but taken over as a work product belonging to the company?

  Points against Alan:

  He was single-minded in his pursuit of a goal.

  According to Todd, Wilbur decided against creating the SIMPLE Car.

  Alan cannot prove his claim that Wilbur gave him permission to pursue the idea on his own.

  He was quick to impute a motive to George Kelly.

  Chess players are good at intricate planning.

  Points in Alan’s favor:

  He appears to be gentle and diffident.

  No one has said that Wilbur yelled at Alan.

  Alan defended the innocence of Susan Gilbert as well as Harry Hubbard and Todd Garrett

  Alan Douglas was intelligent, quick, thoughtful, absorbed in the world of his mind. There was nothing threatening about him except for the intensity of his light blue eyes when I asked if he thought the proprietary claim against the car would be waived.

  Todd Garrett

  Motive:

  Anger. Wilbur exploded at Todd and ordered him to make the rounds at the civic club to say he’d spoken without authority about the SIMPLE Car. Todd took great pride in being the public face of the company. Did the prospect of humiliation in front of those he wanted to impress push him to violence?

  Stress. Todd tried hard to appear competent in a demanding environment, but he knew he owed his position to his long-ago kindness to a high school outcast. His inheritance was enough that he could remake his life, hunt and fish and never have to be embarrassed again.

  Todd Garrett opposed Alan Douglas’s SIMPLE Car vehemently. Did he resent a younger man with only two years at the company receiving the respect and attention of Wilbur? Or was he opposed because he felt the plan lacked merit?

  Points against Todd:

  He was angry and humiliated by Wilbur’s order that he walk back his criticism of the SIMPLE Car.

  He hunted so he definitely knew how to handle guns, very likely owned several guns.

  His job was beyond his capability.

  He was quick to claim he overheard a conversation that provided a motive for Alan Douglas to kill Wilbur.

  The inheritance would afford him a life without hassle or demands or insults.

  Points in Todd’s favor:

  He was Wilbur’s oldest friend and Wilbur had treated him handsomely.

  He defended Susan Gilbert.

  Harry Hubbard insisted Todd was a good old boy, a man who kept his word, protected the weak, and valued the code of the Old West. Such a man would not attack from behind.

  Murder requires a hard spirit, a toughness that can be described as callousness. Murderers do not see other living creatures as special, irreplaceable, miraculous. Those who protect life and those who save lives have a reverence for the intelligence in every mind, the love in every heart, the utterly unique reality of each and every
person whether a violin virtuoso in a Berlin orchestra or a seal hunter in Alaska or a new mother in the Amazon jungle. Imagining all the people in this world, each one with a beating heart and feelings of joy or anger or fear or hope, is as staggering as looking up at billions of blazing stars in the night sky. To escape the burden of that reality, many of us hunker in our shells like turtles, making the world small, manageable, narrow, focused.

  A murderer doesn’t see or feel the awesomeness of life. A murderer sees an obstacle to a goal.

  Ben Fitch, George Kelly, Harry Hubbard, Alan Douglas, Todd Garrett.

  Which one?

  • • •

  As Mama always told us kids, “If you knock your head against the wall and all you get is a sore head, you need a new start.”

  In the huge marble entrance foyer, the chandeliers were only dimly lit. A Tiffany lamp on one corner of the massive rosewood desk glowed softly. Rose Bower appeared closed for the night. I snatched up a Gazette. Perhaps if I read everything Joan Crandall had written I would find a new direction, a hint, a help.

  I move from one place to another by thinking where I want to go. However, when transporting a material object, such as a newspaper, I must transport the physical item through space. I was midway up the marble stairway when I heard a clatter of steps that suddenly stopped.

  I looked over the banister.

  The pretty young attendant stood at the foot of the stairs. Perhaps her last task before leaving the desk unattended at night was a check of the second floor to make sure no room service tray rested on the floor outside a guest room. Rose Bower’s kitchen was always staffed and ready to respond to requests. Even from here, I could see the utter incredulity on her face.

  Earlier I’d let the sheets flutter to the floor, confident she would attribute the odd occurrence to the vagaries of the heating system. That solution didn’t apply here. Even the most imaginative observer could not possibly believe the heating system buoyed a Gazette halfway up the stairs.

  I had no choice. Firmly clutching the newspaper, I kept climbing though I increased my pace.