Jane found herself thinking back to what she'd said to Katie about Stonecipher and his causes. In retrospect, she decided she'd been wrong. It wasn't merely that he went from one cause to another, it was that all of them were essentially adversarial to someone else with a lot at stake. Unlike Jane's own driving of the blind children or working at the graduation night party or helping raise funds to replace dangerously out-of-date playground equipment at the park — in which there were no "enemies" — Stonecipher's causes always pitted him against someone else: property owners, individual businesses, and people's personal freedoms.
His causes also made him highly visible. Which, the more Jane thought about it, could have been the basic motivation. Maybe his real desire was simply to show off and garner lots of attention. Of course, Jane's view of him now was highly colored by knowing about his nasty secret file cabinet. She simply couldn't believe that somebody who was basically immoral could sincerely espouse moral causes.
Trying to be fair, if only in her own mind, Jane reminded herself that there was no proof that Stonecipher had ever made use of the files. But even if he hadn't used them yet, why would a person keep such things if he didn't intend to gain from them eventually?
Emma certainly hadn't hesitated once Stonecipher was dead. Maybe Stonecipher kept the files just because he liked "having things" on people. Like the miser counting his coins. But Emma had almost instantly seen a way to invest those coins and turn them into more capital. But just how successful could that have been? If Jane's own file was an example, Em-ma's ploy would have failed. Stonecipher had speculated that the Jeffry pharmacies might be involved in some sort of fraud, but he'd been wrong, so there was no blackmail potential in it.
If Emma hadn't died and Jane had met with her, Jane would have been offended, but definitely wouldn't have parted with a penny. But she certainly hated having a file of any sort being batted around as part of a murderinvestigation. Maybe Emma had better (or worse, depending on your viewpoint) things about the other people she'd intended to get her hooks into. That might have accounted for why she was content to see Jane late in the day.
The phone rang. "What are you doing?" Shelley asked.
“Looking at the rain. Thinking about things I should be doing and don't want to."
“Paul's taken the kids to the movies and I'm rattling around by myself. Want some company?”
She arrived a few minutes later with a plate full of iced sugar cookies. "I'm here in self-defense," she said. "I'd have eaten them all by myself if I'd stayed home.”
Mike came in as they were settling down with coffee and cookies and helped get rid of quite a few of them. He went upstairs, taking a couple more to Katie and Todd. "See how easy it was to solve that problem?" Jane asked, looking at the decimated plate.
“Not really," Shelley said. "There are another two dozen at home. I got carried away and tripled the recipe. Speaking of problems, I've been thinking about Emma. And money."
“Oh?"
“We've been obsessing on the blackmail thing. Assuming that if she was blackmailing someone, that was why she was killed."
“Sounds like a good assumption to me," Jane said.
“It is. But it's not necessarily the only possible reason. Look at how many people had an interest in the money the law firm generated. Stonecipher, his wife, his partner, his assistant. Even Patsy is involved in a peripheral way since she handled the billing. Now two of those people are dead. One from natural causes but under very odd circumstances, and one was murdered."
“Yes," Jane said, "but what does this lead to?"
“I'm not sure. I'm just thinking out loud. The talk is that the Stoneciphers paid too much for their house. You can tell to look at it that they invested a fortune into it. And now it looks like Rhonda is trying to get her hooks into Tony Belton — the remaining lawyer in the firm — and he's resisting. So, couldn't there be a big money problem? Suppose, for example, that the firm was bringing in huge amounts, but Tony Belton was really generating all the business instead of Robert. If Rhonda was already sick and tired of her husband, it might account for her filing for divorce, then trying to grab on to Tony."
“Right. But what would any of this have to do with Emma?"
“I'm not sure, except that she'd apparently been Stonecipher's mistress for years. Shemust have had dirt on Rhonda. And she would have been bright enough to know who was the real source of the firm's income. Maybe she wanted to latch on to Tony, too. Couldn't Rhonda have been afraid of Emma wrecking her plans?"
“So Rhonda killed her to get rid of the competition?" Jane asked.
“It's possible, isn't it?" Shelley took a cookie and munched for a moment before adding, "Unlikely. But possible."
“I'd vote for unlikely, if not downright impossible. Conning people out of a few lunches is a long way from being greedy enough to actually kill a rival for the sake of money. If all Rhonda wanted was a richer husband, there are a fair number of available older men with money."
“But they all want young bimbos, Jane. It's a tough marriage market for middle-aged women, no matter how well-preserved they may be. Oh, well. Maybe I'm just obsessing on money because I had to pay the quarterly taxes today."
“Shelley, you know I'm not one to discount money as a good motive for practically anything, but I just don't see the tie-in. I wish I could. I know Mel doesn't believe I had anything to do with this, but I absolutely hate the fact that my name and private business is in a file folder in a police evidence room, or safe, or whatever. If this case isn't solved, every few months or years, somebody will go back over all the available evidence, come around asking questions again, and I'll never hear the end of it.”
Shelley nodded. "True enough. If the murder had something to do with money, Patsy Mallett would be the one who knew the most about the firm's income."
“And she'd never tell us," Jane said. "I have the feeling she probably has unbendable rules about discussing her clients' business."
“But she'd tell the police," Shelley said.
Mike came through the room again, having showered and changed his clothes. "I'm off, Mom," he said, eyeing the last cookie.
“Go ahead and take it," Shelley said. "There are more."
“Where are you going?" Jane asked. "Wherever the four winds take me," he said, striking a pose.
“Oh, good answer!" Jane said with a laugh. "A lot more poetic than some others I've heard over the years. Don't be late," she added automatically.
“I don't have to work tomorrow so it doesn't matter," Mike said. "Scott's starting deliveries at the deli tomorrow and I get the day off because I worked Saturday."
“Oh, fair enough. Is that the doorbell?”
“It's probably Scott," Mike said, but a mo‑ ment later Mel VanDyne came into the living room.
“Sorry to drop in without warning," he said, "but I've been trying to call you for half an hour. If you don't get your daughter her own phone line, I'm going to.”
Shelley ran home to restock the cookie supply while Jane made a fresh pot of coffee. When they were all comfortably resettled in the living room, Jane said, "Mel, did you talk to LeAnne Doherty about Emma?"
“Oh, yes. And before I was halfway through my first question, she confessed.”
20
“LeAnne confessed!" Shelley and Jane yelped in unison.
“Hold it! You didn't let me finish," Mel said, alarmed.
“Either she confessed or she didn't," Jane replied. "You said she did."
“Not to murder. To being at Emma's apartment. She was, as you said, a bundle of nerves. She says Emma called her Friday night, told her she was to come by at noon Saturday. Emma told her she had some confidential information that your friend LeAnne might be happier if other people didn't know about. So she went."
“And?"
“And they argued. Mrs. Doherty cried. In the end, Weyrich misjudged badly and demanded so much money that there was simply no way the Dohertys could have paid it even if the
y wanted to."
“I don't imagine you're going to tell us what the blackmail threat was?" Jane said.
“You're right, I'm not. It wasn't anything illegal, just embarrassing. Anyway, Mrs. Doherty says she realized the situation was beyond her control, that they'd already weathered a lot of grief and would just have to get through some more if Emma shot off her mouth. Mrs. Doherty claims she told Weyrich to go to hell and left."
“I'll bet she felt relieved," Jane said.
Mel looked at her strangely. "That's exactly what she said. How did you know?”
Jane shrugged. "There's a sort of euphoria when you burn your bridges. Or just accept that things are as they are, can't be changed, and aren't worth thinking about anymore. Even if you don't like the decision you have to make, it feels good to make it and have it over with. Don't you think?”
Mel nodded. "I never looked at it that way, but I guess you're right.”
Shelley spoke up. "But that all changed when she found out Emma had been killed and someone might have seen her at the apartment."
“Right," Mel said. "I think if I hadn't gone to interview her, she'd have turned herself in pretty soon. She was really in a state and so was her husband."
“You believe her?" Jane asked.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Provisionally. Somewhat. We'll see."
“Three qualifiers. Not good," Jane said with a smile.
“She is the last person who admits to having seen the victim alive. She could be an awfully good actress."
“But she wouldn't have bothered to try an act on me," Jane said.
“Sure she would," Mel said. "For practice, if nothing else. And remember, you told me she was asking you about me and about the investigation. She must have known you'd tell me about it."
“You didn't say that's why—"
“No," Mel said. "I told her someone leaving the retirement party had described seeing a woman who looked like her go into Weyrich's apartment. I hadn't even gotten the words out when she went to pieces and spilled the whole story."
“If you believed her, where would that leave you?" Shelley asked. "Have you learned anything else?"
“As a matter of fact, we have. But it's not much help yet," Mel said. "One of Emma's neighbors saw her come out of her apartment Friday night pretty late. Around eleven. In her jogging gear, but carrying something that jingled on one hand — they thought it was a set of car keys — and a file folder in the other. Or several file folders."
“Friday night," Jane said. "The night of the high school graduation and party. That sounds like she made at least one house call with her little scheme."
“It sure does," Shelley said, "but why a jogging outfit?"
“Maybe she was doing two entirely different things," Jane said. "Dropping in on someone for a spot of blackmail and then going jogging. Don't a lot of people go somewhere to jog instead of just trotting around their own block? I'm always seeing _ people at that track that runs around the perimeter of the park who don't live adjacent to it."
“Or maybe she was doing two errands at the same time," Shelley said.
“What do you mean?"
“Maybe she was meeting another jogger," Shelley went on. "Either someone she regularly saw wherever she jogged. Or somebody she told to meet her there."
“Why would she risk being overheard?" Jane asked.
“I don't know," Shelley said. "Maybe it was someone she was at least slightly afraid to be alone with. Someone who might have agreed to her demands and then came back Saturday afternoon and killed her.”
Jane shivered.
“Where were the suspects on Friday night, Mel?" Shelley asked. "Or have you had time to find out yet?”
Mel glared at her. "Suspects?" he asked, a slightly shrill note in his voice. "Just which suspects are those? Depending on how you look at it, I have either no suspects or a whole city full of them."
“Oh, right," Shelley said. "All the people with files that are missing."
“Right," Mel agreed grimly. "The only suspects as such are Jane, who isn't one really because her file was the one left behind, and she was with me Friday night, and LeAnne Doherty. She, by the way, was at a family party and claims at least fourteen relatives will swear that neither she nor her husband ever left the house Friday night. On top of which, there's absolutely no reason to think whoever Weyrich might have met Friday night is the same person who killed her. In fact, there's only one person that I know of so far in this whole mess who absolutely couldn't have killed Emma Weyrich."
“Who's that?" Jane asked.
“Sarah Baker."
“Sarah?" Shelley exclaimed. "Why would Sarah want to kill anyone?"
“I didn't say she had any reason to—"
“Mel, don't grit your teeth that way," Jane said. "Have another cookie."
“Sorry. I only meant that, of all the people at the deli opening and those who were known to have had dealings with Robert Stonecipher — which is the best I can do in the way of a suspect list — Sarah Baker is the only one with an unbreakable alibi."
“Because she was in the hospital, right?" Jane said. "And she couldn't have sneaked out."
“It's a measure of my desperation that I even checked on that," Mel admitted. "No, she was in bed all afternoon. There was another patient in the room, in the bed closest to the door, who had company all afternoon. Sarah Baker couldn't have left the room without being seen."
“We were talking about the money aspect of it earlier," Shelley said.
“What money aspect?"
“Just speculating whether there was one," Jane said. "Stonecipher seemed to have a great deal of money — or at least to spend a lot. So anything having to do with the law firm's income might reflect on his wife, or Tony Belton, or Emma herself. You said you had people looking into that. Have they found anything?"
“Not yet. And it's a tricky legal situation."
“Why?" Jane asked.
“Because the firm belongs to Stonecipherand Belton. Stonecipher is dead, of natural causes. Belton isn't officially a suspect. Weyrich was merely an employee who was killed in her own apartment outside office hours. There are all sorts of privacy considerations that have to be danced around very carefully. If Mrs. Stonecipher and Tony Belton voluntarily opened the books and tax records and such, it would be a different story."
“But they're refusing?" Shelley asked, her eyes going a bit slitty.
“Not exactly refusing. Waffling. Delaying. Asking more questions than they're answering. And to be honest, there's nothing inherently suspicious about that. You and your husband wouldn't fling information about your business into the lap of the police if one of your employees was murdered, would you?"
“No, but we wouldn't have anything to do with the murder, either," Shelley said indignantly.
“And maybe they don't," Mel said. "Besides, Stonecipher himself was only buried this morning. If his wife and partner have nothing to do with Emma's death, why would they bother to stop in the middle of funeral preparations to help us?"
“I hate it when you're so fair and reasonable!" Jane said.
“Don't kid yourself. You love it," he said with a grin. It was the first time he'd smiled since he arrived.
“Was Tony at the deli opening?" Shelley asked. "It seems so long ago already that I don't remember."
“It doesn't seem like he was until after Stonecipher died and Emma called him," Mel said. "Nobody mentioned seeing him there earlier and he said he was at the office."
“That should be easy to prove," Jane said.
“Not entirely, but it doesn't really matter. Weyrich and Stonecipher were gone and the secretary had a dental appointment. He was there by himself. But as I keep reminding you, nobody killed Stonecipher."
“But somebody pushed that rack over on him," Jane said. "Surely that's significant."
“Probably, but I can't figure out how," Mel said.
“You're positive it couldn't have been an accident? Somebody bumping agai
nst it without even knowing he was there? Or a leg of it collapsing under its own weight?"
“No way. Before we realized it was a natural death, it was set back up and tested. Even our heftiest officer, pretending to stumble into it, could only rock it slightly. And that was with the shelves empty. Loaded up, it would have been even heavier and more stable. No, somebody had to give it a hard, deliberate push."
“Could a woman have had the strength?" Shelley asked.
“Have you got someone in mind?" Mel asked.
“No, just wondering."
“Yes, a woman could have done it. It's not so much a question of strength or weight as leverage. If you'd run into it accidentally, you'd hit it with your hip or shoulder and maybe rattle a few small items off the shelves. But it's not nearly as hard to make it go over if you reach up and push with both hands."
“I guess the thing was thoroughly fingerprinted," Jane said.
“Of course. The Bakers' and Mrs. Axton's prints were all over it, which they should have been. And there were some smudges in the area where someone might have pushed it."
“You don't mean to suggest that somebody came to the deli opening expecting to find Robert Stonecipher dead, planned ahead to push the rack over on him, and brought gloves along for the purpose!" Shelley exclaimed.
“Say, that's a theory I hadn't considered," Mel said. "Sorry to be sarcastic. No, there were a good half dozen people handling the thing, trying to pull the rack off him just in case he might still be revived. They're the ones who smudged it up."
“Mel, this whole thing — someone pushing that rack onto his body — has to have a con‑ nection to Emma's death, doesn't it?" Jane asked.
He shrugged. "Frankly, your guess is as good as mine. I don't believe in coincidences, but I sure can't come up with any reasons that anybody would do it."
“Okay, let's really think about this," Jane said.
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