Dying for Mercy

by Mary Jane Clark

  “There’s something here, but I can’t get it loose,” said Eliza as she pulled at it.

  “Let me try,” said Russell.

  They changed positions. With a little effort, he was able to snap the object away from the wood.

  “Got it,” he said as he stood upright again.

  Eliza looked at what was in his hand. “It’s a pocket video camera!” she said excitedly.

  “Yes,” said Russell.

  “Well, this is wonderful,” she said. “Hit the ‘play’ button and we can view what’s on it.”

  “We don’t need to view it,” said Russell. “I recognize it. It’s my father’s. And I already know exactly what we’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 146

  The guard at the front gate was having none of it. He wouldn’t let Annabelle and B.J. enter the park.

  “We were in here just this morning,” said B.J. “We’ve been coming in and out with Eliza Blake for the last few days.”

  “Well, Eliza Blake isn’t with you now,” said the guard. “And she didn’t leave your names on the list.”

  CHAPTER 147

  I don’t quite understand,” said Eliza, fearing that she did. “What do you mean, you already know what’s on the tape?”

  “Because I know that Innis surreptitiously taped a conversation we had in his study,” said Russell as he moved closer. “If I’d known I was being recorded, I never would have admitted to all that I did.”

  He reached out and touched her face. “You are very pretty, do you know that?” asked Russell.

  Eliza backed away.

  “Don’t be afraid,” said Russell as he took hold of her arm. “I won’t hurt you—unless you give me a good reason.”

  Eliza broke free of his grasp and started running for the entrance. She could hear the parrot squawking excitedly, and the realization came to her.

  The bird isn’t saying “Sun, air, grapes.” It’s saying “Son, heir, rapes!”

  CHAPTER 148

  Annabelle leaned over from the passenger seat to speak with the security guard at the front gate.

  “Ms. Blake isn’t answering her phone,” she said. “But we think she’s at Pentimento. Would you mind calling there?”

  CHAPTER 149

  Eliza’s heart pounded as she ran through the aviary. She could hear Russell’s footfalls on the path behind her, feel that he was gaining on her. She was panic-stricken at the thought that Innis’s parrot had been trained to say that the Wheelock son and heir was a rapist.

  She was reaching for the door handle when Russell grabbed her from behind and pushed her to the floor. Looking up at him, Eliza saw that his eyes were wild with rage.

  Think. Think. You have to think.

  Rape was not about sex. It was about power—and anger.

  As he came down on top of her, Eliza pushed back, but Russell was stronger. She felt his hand pulling up her skirt.

  “Russell, please. Stop. Please stop,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’ve got to think what this will mean. Think what this will do to your mother. Your father’s dead. You’re all she has left.”

  “I don’t want to think about my mother,” he sneered. “I don’t want to think about either of them. Innis Wheelock wasn’t my father. And Valentina is a slut.”

  Eliza couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “I’ve known since I was seven years old, though neither of them suspected I did. I overheard them talking about it one night when they thought I was in bed asleep. My real father is Marty O’Shaughnessy, a townie my mother was banging on the boat while Innis, the weakling, was busy busting his butt trying to make her governor.”

  Keep him talking. Keep him talking.

  “It had to be terrible for you,” she said. “Horrible to know all that.”

  “That wasn’t the half of it,” Russell said through gritted teeth. “How’d you like to know that your real old man wanted to be paid off in cash to keep the whole thing quiet? Or worse—that your own mother killed him?”

  “Valentina killed Marty O’Shaughnessy?” asked Eliza incredulously.

  “Yeah, she said it was an accident, but who knows whether the whore was telling the truth? But once again Innis took care of everything for her, getting his friends to cover the whole thing up. They sank the blood-drenched boat, got rid of the body at Nine Chimneys, and crashed O’Shaughnessy’s car on West Lake Road so that it would look like an accident and that he’d run away.”

  “But the puzzle Innis designed reveals the story of something that happened before you were even born,” said Eliza. “You had nothing to do with that.”

  “Right—except for what’s on the videotape,” said Russell. “When Innis found out that I’d been having, shall we say, ‘power struggles’ with certain young women, he decided that he was going to make it impossible for me to have any kind of political future. He tricked me into incriminating myself on the videotape. Nice father, huh?”

  “Does your mother know about all this?” Eliza asked.

  “She knows about the business with the girls. She and Innis would fight over what to do about it. He wanted to face it all head-on; she didn’t. I doubt very much that she knew he made the tape.”

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes, his facial expression turning darker as he realized what she’d been doing.

  “You’ve been playing me, haven’t you? Trying to buy yourself some time. Well, time’s up, Eliza, and just so you know, I don’t shoot blanks the way Innis did.”

  CHAPTER 150

  Valentina and Susannah stopped talking when Bonnie entered the living room.

  “Mrs. Wheelock, two colleagues of Ms. Blake’s are at the gate,” said Bonnie. “They want to talk to you about getting into the park so they can come and pick her up.”

  “Bonnie, kindly explain to them that I can’t come to the phone just now. But tell them that Eliza has a security guard here with a car to take her where she wants to go.”

  Valentina turned to look at Susannah again. “Now, where were we?” she asked.

  CHAPTER 151

  Russell held her arms against the stone floor as Eliza writhed underneath him, trying to kick her way free.

  “Stop fighting me, Eliza,” he said angrily. “It’ll be easier for you if you don’t fight.” He pressed down harder. “I’m so much bigger than you are. There’s no way you can beat me.”

  She finally forced her body to begin to relax beneath his.

  “Thatta girl,” he said. “I knew you were a smart one.”

  He let go of one of her arms and reached to unbuckle his belt.

  “Don’t you dare try anything,” he threatened. “I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you try anything.”

  And he’ll probably end up killing me even if I don’t try anything. He knows I know about the tape. He’s told me too much. He isn’t going to let me live.

  Quickly and with as much strength as she could muster, Eliza brought her free arm down and aimed her fingers for Russell’s eyes while bringing her knee into his groin. He uttered a loud, anguished cry, squeezing his eyes shut. He pulled back, his body coiling into a self-protective position.

  Eliza tried to wriggle free, but the weight of his lower extremities kept her tethered. Able now to use her other arm, she reached over and dug into Russell’s face with her fingernails. He screamed with pain, even as he regrouped and pinned her down again.

  Oh, God, this can’t be happening to me.

  She knew she should keep fighting, but he was too big, too heavy, too strong. He was going to force himself on her, and there was nothing else she could do about it. Eliza closed her eyes to wait for the inevitable.

  “Get off her, you animal!”

  Eliza heard the man’s booming voice.

  “Get off her or I’ll kill you.”

  Russell looked up at the man standing in the aviary doorway.

  “You won’t do that, Clay,” he said.

  “Just watch me,” said Chief Vitalli, pulling hi
s gun out of its holster. “I’ve caught you in the act this time. My days of protecting you are over. The years of covering for you and your family are over, too—even if it means I have to pay for what I’ve done. I’ve had enough.”

  Russell climbed off Eliza and stood up.

  Clay looked down at her. “Are you all right, Ms. Blake?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Eliza nodded as she fixed her skirt. “Yes, I’m all right,” she said. “You got here before he could finish what he started.”

  As Clay offered his hand to help Eliza get up, Russell sprang for the police chief. With split-second reflexes, Chief Vitalli pulled the gun’s trigger. Russell Wheelock fell to the floor.

  EPILOGUE

  FRIDAY, OCTOBER 30

  Eliza tapped on the sliding glass door of B.J.’s editing room.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “It was a bear trying to keep it under two minutes, and I didn’t include anything on the attack on you and Mack, thinking that you and Harry can discuss that on camera after the piece runs,” said Annabelle as she handed the script to Eliza. “See what you think.”

  While B.J. fiddled with audio dials on the control panel in preparation for recording the narration, Eliza read the script to herself.

  TRACK:

  IT’S A CASE THAT SPANS TWO DECADES, INVOLVING A BIZARRE SUICIDE, THE WEALTHY AND EXCLUSIVE COMMUNITY OF TUXEDO PARK, NEW YORK, AND AN INGENIOUS ARCHITECTURAL PUZZLE THAT THE ALLEGED KILLER DIDN’T WANT SOLVED. TWENTY-YEAR-OLD RUSSELL WHEELOCK, THE ONLY SON OF VALENTINA WHEELOCK, FORMER GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK AND AMBASSADOR TO ITALY, IS CHARGED WITH COMMITTING FOUR MURDERS. THE MOTIVE? TO MAKE SURE THAT HIS REPUTATION REMAINED UNTARNISHED SO HE COULD FULFILL HIS DREAM OF A POLITICAL CAREER.

  AN AWARD-WINNING ARCHITECT, THE WOMAN WHO WORKED AS HIS ASSISTANT, AND A ROMAN CATHOLIC PRIEST WERE KILLED, EACH IN DIFFERENT WAYS MIMICKING ASPECTS OF THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. IN ADDITION, AN AUTOPSY REVEALED THAT VALENTINA WHEELOCK’S MAID DID NOT DIE FROM FALLING DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS AS ORIGINALLY HAD BEEN THOUGHT. SHE WAS DELIBERATELY SUFFOCATED.

  SINCE THE MURDER CHARGES WERE ANNOUNCED, SEVERAL YOUNG WOMEN HAVE COME FORWARD ACCUSING WHEELOCK OF RAPE.

  SOUND BITE:

  Dr. Margo Gonzalez, KEY News Consultant/Psychiatrist:

  Rape is not about sex, it’s about power, taking control and dominating another person. It’s rooted in fear, disrespect, and anger toward women.

  RUSSELL WHEELOCK’S DEFENSE TEAM CONTENDS HE HAD GOOD REASON TO BE ANGRY. HIS BIOLOGICAL FATHER WAS KILLED BY HIS MOTHER, A FACT THAT WHEELOCK SAYS HE DISCOVERED WHILE EAVESDROPPING AS A CHILD BUT WAS NEVER REVEALED BY EITHER OF THE PARENTS WHO RAISED HIM. THE DEFENSE IS ARGUING THAT WHEELOCK WAS DEEPLY AND IRREPARABLY SCARRED PSYCHOLOGICALLY AND DEVELOPED AN INTENSE, UNCONTROLLABLE HATRED OF WOMEN, WHICH LED TO THE RAPES. AT THE SAME TIME, BROUGHT UP TO BELIEVE THAT A CAREER IN POLITICS WAS HIS DESTINY, HE WAS DESPERATE THAT NO ONE FIND OUT ABOUT THE CRIMES HE’D COMMITTED.

  VALENTINA WHEELOCK HAS ADMITTED THAT OVER TWENTY YEARS AGO SHE ACCIDENTALLY KILLED HER LOVER, MARTIN O’SHAUGHNESSY, WHILE THEY WERE ON THE WHEELOCKS’ SAILBOAT. THREE ASSOCIATES HAVE ADMITTED COVERING UP THE MURDER BY STAGING THE CRASH OF O’SHAUGHNESSY’S CAR, SINKING THE BOAT, AND BURNING THE BODY BEFORE BURYING IT, ENSURING THAT IT WOULD NOT BE LINKED TO THE WHEELOCKS IF THE BOAT WAS EVER DISCOVERED. VALENTINA WHEELOCK IS FACING TRIAL, THOUGH THE PERPETRATORS OF THE COVER-UP ARE NOT, SAVED BY THE FIVE-YEAR STATUTE OF LIMITATIONS FOR OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE.

  SOUND BITE:

  William O’Shaughnessy/victim’s brother:

  It’s horrible to imagine what he went through, but it’s a relief to finally know what happened to Marty.

  A KEY PIECE OF EVIDENCE IS A SECRETLY RECORDED VIDEOTAPE, IN WHICH RUSSELL ADMITS TO RAPING THREE YOUNG WOMEN. THE TAPE WAS THE FINAL PIECE OF AN INTRICATE PUZZLE CREATED BY INNIS WHEELOCK BEFORE HE COMMITTED SUICIDE BY STIGMATA.

  AT COMPETENCY HEARINGS, RUSSELL WHEELOCK’S ATTORNEYS HAVE ARGUED THAT THEIR CLIENT WAS SO MENTALLY DISTURBED THAT HE LACKED THE MENTAL CAPACITY TO COMMIT A CRIME. PROSECUTORS CONTEND THAT WHEELOCK KNEW EXACTLY WHAT HE WAS DOING. TODAY THE JUDGE WILL ANNOUNCE HER DECISION ON WHETHER WHEELOCK IS FIT TO STAND TRIAL.

  “Nice script,” said Eliza after she finished reading. “But there’s no way this will run under two minutes,” said Eliza.

  Annabelle smiled sheepishly. “I know, but I was hoping that you’d see we need the time to tell it properly.”

  “You mean it’ll be easier to convince Linus if I’ve already agreed?” asked Eliza.

  “Exactly.”

  “Go for it,” said Eliza.

  As Annabelle called the executive producer to make her case for more time, Eliza reflected on what had happened. Innis had taken his life, four people had lost theirs, several others would never be the same again. So much pain had been inflicted, with more to come.

  But the truth had been revealed. There was satisfaction in that, and in knowing she’d followed through for Innis, just as he’d predicted she would the night they sat beside the turtle fountain at Pentimento.

  “Want to go out to lunch today?” asked Annabelle when Eliza finished recording the narration.

  “No thanks,” said Eliza. “I’m going straight home after the show. This is my last weekend with Mack before he goes back to London, and I need to savor every minute with him. This afternoon we’re going to the Halloween parade at Janie’s school. Despite everything that’s happened, I want to see my own little St. Francis.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  There is no Black Tie Club in Tuxedo Park. In describing the fictitious Black Tie Club, I took certain liberties, inspired by the private club that does exist there and by other exclusive social clubs where prospective members yearn to gain admittance and sometimes never know exactly why they are denied.

  St. Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Sun was written in the thirteenth century. Translations from the medieval Italian vary.

  “Si trova tutto nel tavolo grande,” the message in St. Francis’s halo in the aviary fresco, means “All can be found in the large table.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Puzzles are tangled and twisted and take time to solve. For me, at least, the writing process is like that. The ideas don’t come in a straight line. Things that happened many years ago can come to the fore, finding expression in the present.

  Growing up near Tuxedo Park, I was fascinated whenever we drove past the guarded entrance and wondered about the secret world beyond the gates. As an adult, I’ve had the chance to go inside and discover that what truly exists there is even more majestic and magical than the version conjured by my youthful imagination. I became haunted by the thought of evil lurking in this protected and idyllic place.

  Tina McEvoy and Pam Graetzer shared their understanding of Tuxedo Park, showing me around and revealing one curious and marvelous location after another. It was with them that the story began to really come alive as I began to imagine my characters moving through that unique world. Many thanks as well to Jim Jospe, who very generously lent me his extensive collection of books about Tuxedo Park.

  Inspiration also came from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Trips to Italy aroused an interest in the life and death of St. Francis of Assisi along with an appreciation of all things Italian. While I was viewing the magnificent architecture, sculptures, frescoes, and ceramics in that fabulous country, the puzzle began to loosely take shape.

  In brainstorming sessions, Father Paul Holmes shared his passion for Italy and extensive knowledge of religious history. Initially, the idea of suicide by stigmata took his breath away, but he seized on it with enthusiasm. If not for his reaction, I don’t know if I would have felt secure enough to continue with the concept. Throughout the writing of this book, he offered wonderfully creative ideas, exacting research, and unflagging encouragement. Tante, tante grazie, Paolo, for all that you do.

  Criminal defense attorney Joseph Hayden graciously answered some last-minute questions about
the legal ramifications of my characters’ dastardly deeds. I owe you and Katharine a dinner, Joe.

  Fortunately, Carrie Feron is my editor. She did an expert job of trimming, tightening, and making the manuscript better. The story is stronger and more suspenseful because of her considerable talent and skill. Once again, Carrie and her trusted assistant, Tessa Woodward, carefully shepherded the book through all its stages. Their professionalism is greatly appreciated.

  Maureen Sugden copyedited with exacting care. Her notes were a joy to read and consider. Thanks to Mary Schuck and Richard Aquan for designing an enticing cover. I’m very grateful for the support of everyone at William Morrow, including Liate Stehlik, Lynn Grady, Sharyn Rosenblum, Nicole Chismar, Bobby Brinson, and Virginia Stanley.

  Beth Tindall designs and runs maryjaneclark.com, while Colleen Kenny produces the much-commented-on “movie trailers.” Thanks to them for making it possible for me to enjoy the benefits of all their hard work.

  Jennifer Rudolph Walsh and Joni Evans are still guiding my writing career. Between them, they offer the best of everything: experience, business acumen, pragmatism, wisdom, and sage editorial advice. It is an invaluable asset to be able to call on them.

  And finally, my boundless thanks to Peggy Gould. She knows why.

  About the Author

  MARY JANE CLARK is the New York Times bestselling author of twelve novels, including When Day Breaks and It Only Takes a Moment. A former writer and producer at CBS News in New York City, she knows intimately the world of which she writes. The daughter of an FBI agent and mother of two, she lives in New Jersey and Florida.