“I did. I’d like to get your point of view. Were your parents happy working for them?”
“I think they were. They wouldn’t have stayed if they weren’t, right? Generous salary, nice Christmas bonus, free living arrangements, lots of time off. Mrs. Rydell bought my mother a brand-new fancy station wagon out of the blue years ago; right after I was born, I think. It still runs.
“So, if they weren’t happy in all the years they were there, they never shared that with me. My parents were private people. I knew they loved me, but they weren’t the affectionate, clingy type of parents. They were kind, but stoic. You know what I mean?”
“I do,” Alex assured her. “What about Rachael and Melanie?”
She eyed him warily. “What about them?”
“Did you three get along?”
She took so long to answer I was about to repeat the question if Alex didn’t. “Yes, we did. For a while. You wouldn’t think that girls in their circles would want to associate with the daughter of the chauffeur and maid—and whatever else my mom did for the Rydells, but they did. Until they got to seventh grade, then they became distant and aloof. I had my own friends, I didn’t care, really. I hated the way my parents fawned over Rachael and Melanie, acting subservient. Like they were princesses or something.”
I was about to jump in with a question, but Meg went on talking.
“The Rydell’s liked to drink, at least that’s what Rachael and Melanie said. Their parents also had an issue with prescription medication, according to them. They didn’t pay a lot of attention to the girls from what my mom said. I actually felt sort of sorry for them. They seemed to like being at my house, even though it was small. I think they got more attention from my parents than they did from their own. It was just me they gradually had no use for.”
“Were you ever jealous?” I got my question in. Alex shot me a look, but didn’t interrupt. “Of Rachael and Melanie, I mean.”
She sat back down and studied her nails then picked up a square, white throw pillow from the floor and hugged it to her chest. “I suppose a little. I was a kid, you know how kids are. I made it hard on my parents sometimes. I saw everything Rachael and Melanie had and yes, I wanted it. Despite our friendship as it were, I was still always outside looking in.
“I used to stand in front of their house and stare in through their front window at the huge Christmas tree they had every year set up in their living room. It was always a real one.
“It was like the Rockefeller Center tree it seemed to me; piles of brightly wrapped presents with huge, fancy bows spilling out over the living room floor. Our tree was always a small fake one. I got four or five presents, and some from the Rydells. But I never doubted that my parents loved me.”
“Were you jealous enough to kill Rachael and Melanie?” Alex asked.
Thrown off balance, Meg’s face paled and her lower lip trembled. “You think I killed them? Is that really why you’re here?”
“Did you?” he asked.
“No! I never…I didn’t!” she sputtered. “No! What would that accomplish? I didn’t hate them. We got along most of the time. I haven’t even talked to them in years. Not since I was in seventh grade. Why would I kill them?”
“Maybe it would even the score in your mind,” I said.
She whipped her head toward me. “I had no ‘score’ to settle. They couldn’t help it if they were rich. You play the hand you’re dealt, isn’t that the saying? And I’m not exactly a failure, as you can see. I have a great life, an awesome career, a nice home. Even if I had wanted to kill them, why would I wait till now to do so?”
I ignored her questions. “Did you know they were here for Mellon School for Girls reunion?”
“No, I didn’t even know about any reunion until I heard it on the news.”
“A lot of archaeologists own firearms, Meg,” Alex cut in, his voice calm yet tough. “Do you?”
She swallowed hard, and she rearranged herself so she was sitting with one leg under her body. “I didn’t kill them. Do I need an attorney?”
“I’m not accusing you of killing them. If you want to call an attorney, that’s your prerogative. Do you own a firearm?” Alex repeated.
“Yes.” Her reply came at the end of a troubled exhalation. “A lot of archaeologists do, as you just said.”
“What kind?” Alex pressed.
“A semi-automatic pistol. I’m not sure what kind. Brand, I mean. It’s a 9 mm. Friedrich insisted we all have guns. My father bought it for me.”
“I’d like to take it,” requested Alex.
“I don’t have it,” she explained. “Friedrich is cleaning and lubricating it for me. You can check with him if you don’t believe me.”
That might mean something, I thought. Was it odd that her handgun was being cleaned now? To erase fingerprints and other evidence maybe? I kept my mouth closed, as hard as that was. I didn’t want to step on Alex’s mojo.
“Did you take shooting lessons?” asked Alex.
“Of course. Friedrich gave his whole team lessons. He’s an expert. I’d have taken lessons on my own if he hadn’t offered. I didn’t know anything about handguns. I didn’t want to carry one and be clueless.”
“Do you have any idea who would want to harm either woman?” I asked. I felt a little bad that we were ganging up on her.
“None! I told you, I haven’t seen them in years and years. It’s not like we’re social media friends, either. I don’t even have time for Facebook and all that stuff. I’m sure they never gave me a second thought.”
Alex got up and stretched. He wandered over to her display of precious stones. He picked up a clump of raw amethyst. At least that’s what it looked like based on pictures I’d seen in my parents’ nature magazines. “Where did you go to school? College, I mean?”
“College?” she repeated. “Why?”
Alex turned around, the amethyst in his hand. He squeezed it like it was the stress ball on his desk. “Curious. I’m assuming you went to a university and studied archaeology. I know enough about Professor Prime to know he’s extremely picky about whom he picks for his team. You must have been special to be chosen, and had an excellent education.”
“You do know a lot about him, don’t you? I went to Harvard.”
“Did you get a scholarship?” I asked, following Alex’s line of thought. That was an expensive school. A little more than her parents could afford, I thought.
“No. My tuition was paid by the Rydells.”
“They paid your tuition?” Alex’s voice held the same incredulity that I felt. “That must have been a hunk of change.”
She fidgeted in her chair. “Mrs. Rydell is very generous.”
It wasn’t lost on me that she didn’t include Graeme. “What about Mr. Rydell?”
“He went along with what Mrs. Rydell wanted. They have tons of money, you know. Four years at Harvard was a drop in the bucket for them.”
“I don’t understand why they would pay your tuition,” Alex continued. He put down the amethyst and sat. “It seems a little more than would be expected from your parents’ employers.”
Meg pushed herself off the chair and wandered over to her etagere. I wish they’d both sit still. She picked up a dark wooden carving of a fish. She turned to us, her smile displaying a little too much wattage. “This is a piranha. The killer fish. I got it when I was in Brazil with Friedrich and the team. I love this wood. It’s so solid and rich.”
Alex wasn’t going to be sidetracked now. “Do you have any idea why Mrs. Rydell paid your tuition? Did she ever tell you why?”
Meg shut off her smile. “You seem like good investigators. You certainly paid attention during the Grilling the Suspect class. I know you’ll find out anyway if you really want to. Not that it has anything to do with Rachael and Melanie’s murder. I know my father and mother didn’t say anything, did they?”
I was confused. “Your mother wasn’t feeling well. We only talked to your father and he didn’t me
ntion you going to Harvard, or the Rydell’s paying your tuition.”
“Mrs. Rydell,” she corrected.
“So, what is it that your father said nothing about?” I asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She let out a long sigh and combed her fingers through her hair. She held the piranha to her chest. She looked from me to Alex. She made me feel like we were watching a one-woman play. “She paid my tuition because she’s my biological mother. So, you see, I didn’t kill Rachael or Melanie, since they’re my half-sisters.” She put the piranha back then strode back to her chair and dropped down into it.
CHAPTER 26
* * *
Neither Alex nor I were prepared for that bombshell. At least I wasn’t, and from the look on his face, he wasn’t either. He recovered first. “Zoe Rydell is your mother? Melanie and Rachael are your half-sisters?” He echoed my thoughts word-for-word. I felt as if we’d entered some bizarro world.
“Surprised, aren’t you?” Her green eyes were solemn as they met Alex’s. She ignored me.
Alex cut his eyes to me for a second. “I think I speak for both of us when I say yes, very.”
“Are you going to tell everyone?” Her eyes were round with fear. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t.”
“I’m not going to call the newspapers and news stations as soon as we leave, if that’s what you mean,” he responded. I was still too surprised to speak. “But if it has anything to do with the women’s murders, I can’t guarantee anything. Why don’t you want it coming out?”
“I told you, it has nothing to do with their murders, and I don’t want the media camping on my doorstep. I live a quiet life, and I’d like to keep it that way. And I don’t want my mother, Dena I mean, hurt by this.”
“This revelation doesn’t mean you didn’t kill them,” Alex told her.
She sat forward, wringing her hands. “I didn’t kill them. You won’t find anything to link me to those women’s deaths. Yes, I may have been jealous here and there, but I wouldn’t kill them. I wouldn’t kill anyone!”
“Does anyone know that your Zoe’s daughter?” I asked.
“Only the Rydell’s, my parents, and myself, I’m sure.”
I couldn’t believe in how many different directions this investigation was going. From mafia members to illicit affairs. The questions in my mind were piling up like a traffic jam. “The twins didn’t know?”
“I don’t think so, but I don’t know for sure. I don’t know if the Rydells said anything to them. I tend to think not.”
“Stop for a second,” Alex waved his hand in the air. “If Zoe Rydell is your mother, and I’m assuming Edward is your father, then your father and Zoe-”
“Congratulations detective, you know your biology,” Meg said, her voice devoid of emotion.
“How could your sisters not know?” We were way off topic I feared, and I was sure this had nothing to do with murder, but I had to hear the whole story.
“Half-sisters, please. They were three or four when I was born.” She shrugged as if to brush off my question. “I guess they didn’t notice that their mother was pregnant. I don’t know that they would’ve understood at that age anyway. Who knows? Kids are different.”
“I’m surprised that the press never got wind of this,” commented Alex. “The Rydells are a well-known couple. At least in New York state. It’s a wonder Edward didn’t sell the story to some rag.”
Meg’s face darkened. “My father wouldn’t do that. The Rydells made sure no one got wind of it. It’s not like they exactly wanted to advertise that I was related to their daughters; that the Grande Dame of the Rydell family had slept with the,” she gasped loudly, and pursing her lips, she covered them with two fingers, “the chauffeur. What a stink that would be for the Rydells. Especially Graeme. He was all about appearances, airs, and materialism. Not to mention bloodlines.”
“How did they keep it quiet?” I asked. “Keep you and your parents from talking to the press, or blackmailing them?”
Meg rubbed her fingers together in the universal sign for money. “No need for my parents to blackmail them. That’s ugly and not what my family does. Plus, I went to Harvard, my parents have a nice retirement nest egg waiting for them, and a nice condo on Siesta Key in Florida when they’re ready for it. If I were them, I’d be long gone. No reason for them to talk to the press about it.”
I thought of the fancy station wagon Meg had mentioned. All that would keep me quiet, that’s for sure, even if I had to put duct tape across my mouth. “Can you tell us the whole story, from the beginning?” I caught Alex’s thunderous look, which translated into What are you doing? Can we stay on track? How is this helping? I ignored it. Who was he to talk when he had gone off track on an archaeological dig of sorts with Meg?
Meg looked a little vexed with me. “I don’t see how this is going to help your investigation. You are promising to keep it to yourselves, right?”
I couldn’t very well admit that it probably had nothing to do with Melanie and Rachael’s murder, that I was just nosy. “Unless it directly ties to the murders, yes, I promise.”
“Zoe Rydell is my mother. But she gave me up to my father…and mother. I realize Dena is not my biological mother, but she’s the mother I grew up with. She loved me. For all intents and purposes, she is my mother. I love her, too.”
“How long have you known?” Alex asked, shooting me a look that telegraphed he’d take it from here.
“Not long. About a year ago, give or take, I’d gone to my parents’ house to pick up some china, knick-knacks, and other items my father and mother had offered me. I walked in and I heard him talking to a female in the kitchen. My father and mother don’t have a lot of friends, so naturally, I was curious. I was about to step into the kitchen when I realized the female was Zoe Rydell. That was interesting in itself because I could count the number of times she’d been in our house on one hand.
“I figured the kitchen window would be open since they don’t have air conditioning, so I went back outside, walked around to the back of the cottage, and stood under the kitchen window, where I heard every word.”
I was mentally sitting on the edge of my seat. I was about to break in, when Alex continued.
“What were they talking about?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know what they’d been talking about before I’d arrived, but when I got to the kitchen window he was saying, ‘Dena will be back soon. I don’t want her to find you here. I don’t want Meg to know, Zoe. What good could possibly come of telling Meg now? It would only hurt her. And what if she tells Dena? It would crush Dena to know that we…that you and I…”
“Love each other, Edward? Is that what you’re finding it so hard to say?”
“Loved, Zoe, loved. Stop it, please. It must remain our little secret. I want it that way’.”
“Wow. You have a remarkable memory,” Alex looked impressed.
I was, too. Either her memory was that good, or she was making it all up, but I didn’t get that impression. There was something about her wistful tone and the easy way the words rolled off her tongue that made me believe she was telling the truth. “Did you hear anything else?” I asked.
“I’ve always had a great memory. It served me well in school.” She met my gaze. “Yes, there was more. Zoe told him that she wanted a relationship with me. Then she told my father that… that her feelings for him would never disappear. It was then that I decided to make an appearance, I didn’t want to hear anymore and I felt awful for my mom-Dena, I mean. I went around in front and made a production of banging in through the front door.”
“How did you know it was Mrs. Rydell?” Alex wanted to know. “Before you came in the front door, I mean?”
She gave him a dark, withering look. “He called her Zoe. He didn’t know any other Zoes that I was aware of. I recognized that voice. It’s unique, it has what I call a caressing roughness to it.”
“What happened then?” I asked.
&nb
sp; “They were both leaving the kitchen. I could tell they were flustered and surprised to see me. They looked a little annoyed, too. Mrs. Rydell played it off like she’d been asking him to look at the plumbing in their upstairs bathroom. I played along, too, until they left.
“I started by asking my father why he called Mrs. Rydell by her first name, and what was it that didn’t he want me to know? I asked him if he and Mrs. R. were having an affair. Oh, he was livid, and told me it was none of my business. How dare I eavesdrop on him! That kind of stuff.”
“Wow!” I couldn’t help but react. “What did you say back?”
“He was posturing, trying to scare me, but I saw through it. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Obviously, something was up and I wanted to know what. Instinctively I knew it was something my mother, Dena, didn’t know about, and my father didn’t want her to know about. I threatened to tell her what I’d heard, and then go to Mrs. Rydell if he didn’t tell me.”
It Cannoli Be Murder Page 19
