Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1)

by J. A. Menzies

“You’d both better come in and sit down, Inspector.”

  Manziuk and Ryan followed her into the kitchen. They found chairs, and pulled them up to Ellen’s rocking chair.

  “I’ve been sitting here all day trying to decide what I should do. What’s best.” She clasped her hands. “I even considered turning myself in and saying I was guilty. But that wouldn’t really solve anything, would it?”

  “Mrs. Brodie, have you noticed a change in your husband over the last while?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that today, too. I think I’ve noticed it without realizing, if you know what I mean. His insistence on buying this house, for instance. I never wanted it. All my friends are in the city. But he had to have it. And the firm. Seeing it continue and be successful. It’s always been important to him, but lately he’s become obsessive about it. Everything has to revolve around Brodie, Fischer, Martin, and Brodie. He was so pleased that Kendall was joining. I think it would have killed him if Kendall hadn’t wanted to. And you know, deep in his heart, I don’t think Kendall does want to. I think that’s why he’s been so upset with Nick. Because, really, he isn’t comfortable with being in the firm himself.

  “You might think because of this house and his Porsche and all, that Kendall is used to having a lot of money and things, but he really isn’t. George made sure he didn’t think he was special because his dad had a successful law office. He delivered newspapers and had to earn his money just like any other kid. I think he could be perfectly happy anywhere—in his and Nick’s apartment, which isn’t fancy at all. Now—now—none of that matters now, does it?”

  “Did your husband tell you what happened? Was Jillian trying to blackmail him?”

  She stared at him. “Jillian? No, not Jillian. Crystal.”

  “Crystal? All right. Tell me about Crystal,” Manziuk said.

  “She saw Kendall coming out of the garden,” Ellen said simply. “She told George she wouldn’t say anything. She liked Kendall and knew it must have been Jillian’s fault. She didn’t want Kendall to go to prison.

  “So George asked her what it would take to get her to keep it to herself. She said she needed a car to get back and forth next year, and he said he’d get her one. And then she said she’d be awfully tight for money for gas and insurance, so he said he’d give her ten thousand dollars. She wanted some of it up front. So he told her to meet him that night.” She shook her head. “He took the money, but something went wrong. She threatened him with a knife. When he tried to get it from her, it slipped.” She looked at them. “You don’t believe that, do you? But I’m sure it’s true. George would never do anything like that on purpose. He has too much at stake. The firm. His family. He was only doing it to protect Kendall, you see.”

  “So George told you that Kendall murdered Jillian?”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. “She told him she was going to marry Kendall. George hired a private detective and found out Kendall had been meeting her. So George paid her a lot of money to stay away from Kendall. And he got a tape of her telling Kendall it was over. It was last Friday morning.

  “But Kendall was upset. He thought Jillian had been lying to him; that she had been toying with him.” She leaned forward in the chair, eyes brimming with tears that splashed down her cheeks, her gaze imploring Manziuk to believe her. “She mesmerized him. Like those women in that story about Ulysses. Sirens. She made him think he was in love with her. And then when she told him it was all off, he didn’t know what he was doing. He never would have done it if he was in his right mind.”

  “So Kendall killed Jillian and then told George?”

  “No, George only realized Kendall was guilty when Crystal came to him.”

  “George told you all this?”

  “Not then. But after I woke up Sunday morning, I felt so funny. And then they said the policeman had been drugged. So I knew George had put something in the tea.”

  “Could he have?”

  “I made the tea,” Ellen said. “But I left it in the kitchen. George brought me a cup. Then he gave me a second cup and suggested I take it to the policeman. I thought it funny that he would think of that, but it never occurred to me that—well, that it was wrong. And he seemed pleased. The policeman, I mean.

  “I drank my tea and went to bed. I barely made it. In fact, I think George had to finish undressing me and put me into the bed. And in the morning, I felt so strange. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what. Then when Bart said the officer had been drugged, I realized what had happened.

  “Of course, George made a second cup after he got back from—from the meeting with Crystal. He washed my cup and the officer’s and put them away. And he crushed the Seconal in the Coke that was left.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Her eyes filled with tears once more. “I thought—I thought he must have an explanation—or a good reason—something…” Her voice broke and she took a few moments to compose herself. “Last night, after you arrested Nick, I got up the courage to tell George I wouldn’t let anything happen to Nick. But he said I shouldn’t worry, that Nick would be represented by the best counsel. But that wasn’t enough. I didn’t want Nick to go to trial at all.

  “But George said there was no other way if we were going to protect Kendall. He just assumed, you know, that I would agree with him. That I wouldn’t tell you. I’ve always supported him in the past, you see. Never questioned what he did. So I’ve been sitting here all day wondering what to do.”

  She was sitting on her hands now, rocking back and forth, “How can I ever tell Mrs. Winston? She’s all alone now, her beautiful daughter gone….” Her voice trailed off and she looked down. “I wouldn’t have let Nick take the blame, you know, or anyone, even Anne. But Kendall—” her eyes filled with tears, and her whole body trembled. “To think that I should have to lose him this way! And George, too. I’ve lost them both, haven’t I? I’ve already lost them?” Her eyes appealed to Manziuk for support.

  “Once you’ve killed, you aren’t the same person you were before,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Do you have a friend we could get to stay with you tonight?”

  “My friends are all down in the city where we used to live. George doesn’t seem to understand that.”

  “What about Hildy Reimer?” Ryan asked.

  “Good idea,” Manziuk said. “See if she can come over. Try to get hold of Kendall and Bart Brodie, too. And have someone go by George Brodie’s office and pick him up.”

  Twenty minutes later, Hildy was on her way, having dropped Stephen off at her sister’s. There was no answer at Kendall and Nick’s apartment. Bart had left Peter’s apartment, and neither Peter nor Shauna had any idea where to find him. He was going to pick Shauna up for the funeral the next day.

  George Brodie was not at his office.

  Manziuk stopped to talk with Ellen for a moment before he left. “Mrs. Brodie, I think your husband was lying to you. I don’t think Kendall killed Jillian Martin. I think your husband did.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “But—”

  “Kendall says he found Jillian just moments after she had been killed, and I’m inclined to believe him. He said his dad told him to say they were together in order to provide Kendall with an alibi. But I think it was really to provide himself with an alibi.”

  She clasped her hands together and half-covered her mouth. “But he said he was in his office at the time she was killed. He said he was sending out e-mail. He said he could prove it from the times they were sent.”

  “Sent,” Manziuk said. “Not written. You can write e-mail and then set the computer to send them whenever you want. Just like turning your oven on with a timer. George likely had been writing e-mail earlier in the weekend but hadn’t bothered to send them because no one would be at work. He was probably going to send them all on Monday. I think he was about to come upstairs when he heard Jillian and Kendall talking at the top of the staircase. Kendall told Jillian that Ni
ck would meet her in the Japanese garden but that he might be a few minutes late. So George whipped into his office and set the timer to send the e-mail and then hurried out to kill Jillian. He knew it would appear that he’d been working the entire time.”

  “When did you figure all this out?” Ryan interrupted.

  “While we were talking to Nick. I realized that if Nick really hadn’t drugged Fellowes, and frankly I never could see him doing that, then the only other way the Seconal could have been given was in the tea. You said yourself yesterday that it would be much easier to dissolve the Seconal in a hot substance. And I rather think Fellowes would have noticed that much powder in his Coke.”

  Ellen’s tears were flowing freely again. “How could he do that?” she whispered. “Telling me it was Kendall when all along—his own son! I’ll never forgive him for that. Never!”

  “Mrs. Brodie, I don’t think your husband is the same man you once knew. I think this past year he’s been doing a lot of things you’re going to find hard to believe.”

  But her mind was fixed on one point. “Are you sure about this? Are you sure Kendall didn’t do it?”

  Manziuk nodded.

  She relaxed slightly. “It’s bad enough to think one of them could be a murderer. But both! It was more than I could bear.” She wiped her eyes and took several deep breaths before reaching in to her pocket. “You’ll need this. One of the gardeners brought it to me. He noticed it because it was tied wrong. I expect it was the—the one he used.” Breathing hard, she slowly pulled out a piece of smooth beige cord.

  Manziuk pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and had her drop the cord into it.

  “So Kendall found her there.” Tears were again overflowing. “I can’t think what it was like for him to find her—if he was really in love with her.”

  “I think he’s realized by now that it wasn’t love,” Manziuk said gently.

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “There’s a part of me that can’t believe this is really happening. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and it will all be back to normal. Crystal will be here. Anne and Jillian will be saying nasty things to each other. And George will pop out of his study to see what I’m doing.” She wiped her eyes and rocked in the chair. “All I could think about before this weekend was that maybe Kendall and Lorry would hit it off. That’s all I wanted.” She buried her face in her hands as her tears overwhelmed her.

  “Yes, I know. But right now, I need you to answer some questions about your husband’s mother. Did she have red hair?”

  Ten minutes later, Manziuk was on the phone to Seldon, who’d been at a fancy dinner party with the mayor. “His mother had red hair?” Seldon questioned.

  “Mother and sister.”

  “And he delivered the car to his son the day after the last murder.”

  “Right.”

  “Should we put out an APB?”

  “Already done.”

  “Benson will be waiting in your office when you get there. He’ll want all the details.”

  Lorry looked at her watch. After ten. Dave had told her not to stay this long. But she was finished. And she was finally feeling that she knew what was going on in all parts of the mission.

  Now she could really start to be useful.

  “I’m ready to head out, Lorry.” Aaron, the other young intern who was staying with the Spaldings, stuck his blond head around the corner. “Everybody else is gone. You should come, too.”

  “I have to clean up,” Lorry said. “I’ll only be about ten more minutes.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  “I’ll make sure everything’s locked up and sweep the floor.”

  Ten minutes later, Lorry shut off the computer and put away her notebook and the pen she’d been using. The sound of a tapping on the front door made her look up, but the desk Lorry was using sat in the far corner of the room, the view blocked by a couple of large orange cloth dividers.

  “I’ll see who it is,” Aaron said.

  “I’m nearly ready.” Lorry tidied a few papers and made sure she the desk was clear for whoever would use it in the morning. Then she reached for her purse.

  She heard Aaron open the door, heard him say, “What are you—?” Then a thud and the sound of the door shutting. The lights went out.

  “Aaron?” she called into the darkness. Although he didn’t respond, she could hear movement in the outer office.

  She reached for the phone.

  A black figure came around the divider, and a hand in a black leather glove caught her hand before it reached the receiver.

  She tried to pull away from the hand but failed. As she rose from the chair, trying to back away, the figure came around behind her and kicked the chair away. Another hand reached in front of her neck, passing a black electric cord across it.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The phone on the desk began to ring. It startled them both. Lorry used the moment to twist sideways and then lean backwards toward the person behind her. She stamped hard on the place where she thought the person’s foot should be, and hit something. A male voice yelled in pain. But the hands holding the cord grasped it like a steel vise.

  The phone continued to ring, but neither of them paid attention to it.

  In the darkness of the mission office, Lorry struggled against the cord that was cutting into her throat, holding her fast. She tried to scream, but barely any sound came. Tried to pull the cord away, but she couldn’t get a grip on it.

  The cord was being pulled tighter, cutting into the soft flesh, making each breath difficult.

  With all the strength she had left, she brought her right heel up hard to where she guessed the man’s crotch would be.

  He gasped with pain and dropped his hands for an instant. The cord swung free. Lorry fell forward, stumbled, scrambled to get to her feet.

  She could see him now, but he was wearing a black ski mask. All she could make out were his eyes, which glinted with hatred. He was coming after her, murderous cord held tightly between gloved hands.

  She wanted to get to the open doorway, or at least knock the receiver off the still-ringing phone, but instead she had to backpedal, keeping her eyes on the man who wanted to kill her. Oh, God, help! she thought.

  The phone had stopped ringing.

  Her back hit a wall. The man lunged forward and grabbed a handful of her hair. As he yanked her toward him, Lorry screamed.

  Neither of them heard the car screech to a stop outside or running feet on the sidewalk.

  The masked man got the cord around her neck once more and began to pull it. But at that moment, two figures rushed into the room. Someone yelled, and Lorry recognized Nick’s voice.

  A moment later Nick grabbed the man from behind, and the cord went slack. Kendall pushed Lorry out of the way. The masked man threw Nick off as if he were a puppy clinging to the man’s leg. Kendall stood between the madman and his prey.

  The man stepped toward him.

  “Get out of here, Lorry!” Kendall yelled. “Call the police!”

  She fled. Kendall continued to back away. The man dropped the cord and pulled something else from his pocket. As Nick tackled the man from behind, a gun went off. The bullet grazed a desk and spun off harmlessly into the air. Then the three men went down in a tangled heap.

  For a moment there was a wild melee. As the gun fired again, Nick yelled in pain.

  Another figure shot through the doorway and joined the battle. Three to one at last prevailed. The masked man was pinned to the floor with Kendall holding his shoulders and Dave Spalding holding his feet. Nick kicked the gun beyond reach and then grabbed his upper right arm and doubled over.

  “You okay?” Kendall panted.

  “No.” Nick’s voice was strained.

  “You creep!” Kendall grabbed the ski-mask and pulled. Immediately, he jerked back in horror. “Dad?”

  Police sirens burst like firecrackers upon the stillness of the dark night.
r />   George Brodie babbled nonstop as they led him away, telling them his mother never really loved his father, begging them to understand how hard he’d tried to take his father’s place, complaining that nothing had ever satisfied her, sobbing that just the sight of her with her red hair, dyed an even brighter red as she grew older and tried to hide the grey, made him feel sick to his stomach.

  He told them he’d finally found a way to stop her from demeaning his father and complaining about everything he did for her. He knew how to shut her up now. The only thing he couldn’t understand was how, after a while, he’d see her coming back again and have to shut her up once more. But he’d keep doing it just as long as he had to, until he finally silenced her voice forever.

  “He stole a Toyota,” Ryan said. “It’s parked down the street. The owner reported it about ten minutes ago.”

  Manziuk shrugged. “I expect George Brodie was hot-wiring cars before he was ten.”

  “You people were a little late, Inspector.” Nick Donovan and Lorry Preston walked up. Nick was clutching his arm, which had a blood-stained towel wrapped around it. “If we hadn’t got here, she’d have been dead.”

  “I’m very thankful you got here. How did you know it was him?”

  “Are you kidding? We thought it was Peter.”

  “You look like you need a doctor.”

  “I think I have a bullet in my arm. But it’s Kendall who’s in pain.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He and Marilyn followed his dad down to the police station in my car. He thought maybe he could help.”

  “Marilyn was here?”

  “She insisted on coming. When we pulled up, we saw the door open and a guy on the floor, so we left her to call 911 and park the car.” He thought for a moment. “You two must have been on your way already.”

  “We were on our way here after talking to Ellen.”

  “Does she know?”

  “Some of it. Not about the other four girls.”

  “Man,” Nick shook his head. “That’s going to be rough.”

  “She’s a tough lady. As long as she has Kendall to see her through this, I think she’ll make it.”