Five minutes later, Steve was ushered into the office of Dr. Gary Kingsley. Kingsley was a man in his fifties, but he looked older and careworn.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Sloane?”
“I need to see a patient you have here. Margo Posner.”
“Ah, yes. Interesting case. Are you related to her?”
“No, but I’m investigating a possible murder, and it’s very important that I talk to her. I think she may be a key to it.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”
“You have to,” Steve said. “It’s…”
“Mr. Sloane, I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to.”
“Why not?”
“Because Margo Posner is in a padded cell. She attacks everyone who goes near her. This morning, she tried to kill a matron and two doctors.”
“What?”
“She keeps changing her identity and screaming for her brother, Tyler, and the crew of her yacht. The only way we can quiet her is to keep her heavily sedated.”
“Oh, my God,” Steve said. “Do you have any idea when she might come out of it?”
Dr. Kingsley shook his head. “She’s under close observation. Perhaps in time she’ll calm down, and we can reevaluate her condition. Until then…”
Chapter Thirty-two
At six A.M., a harbor patrol boat was cruising along the Charles River, when one of the policemen aboard spotted an object floating in the water ahead.
“Off the starboard bow!” he called. “It looks like a log. Let’s pick it up before it sinks something.”
The log turned out to be a body, and even more startling, a body that had been embalmed.
The policeman stared down at it and said, “How the hell did an embalmed body get into the Charles River?”
Lieutenant Michael Kennedy was talking to the coroner. “Are you sure of that?”
The coroner replied, “Absolutely. It’s Harry Stanford. I embalmed him myself. Later, we had an exhumation order, and when we dug up the coffin…Well, you know, we reported it to the police.”
“Who asked to have the body exhumed?”
“The family. They handled it through their attorney, Simon Fitzgerald.”
“I think I’ll have a talk with Mr. Fitzgerald.”
When Steve returned to Boston from Chicago, he went directly to Simon Fitzgerald’s office.
“You look beat,” Fitzgerald said.
“Not beat—beaten. The whole thing is falling apart, Simon. We had three possible leads: Dmitri Kaminsky, Frank Timmons, and Margo Posner. Well, Kaminsky is dead, it’s the wrong Timmons, and Margo Posner is locked away in an asylum. We have nothing to—”
The voice of Fitzgerald’s secretary came over the intercom. “Excuse me. There’s a Lieutenant Kennedy here to see you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
“Send him in.”
Michael Kennedy was a rugged-looking man with eyes that had seen everything.
“Mr. Fitzgerald?”
“Yes. This is my associate Steve Sloane. I believe you two have spoken on the phone. Sit down. What can we do for you?”
“We just found the body of Harry Stanford.”
“What? Where?”
“Swimming in the Charles. You ordered his body dug up, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask why?”
Fitzgerald told him.
When Fitzgerald was finished, Kennedy said, “You have no idea who it was that posed as this investigator, Timmons?”
“No. I talked to Timmons.” Steve answered. “ He has no idea, either.”
Kennedy sighed. “It gets ‘curiouser and curiouser.’”
“Where is Harry Stanford’s body now?” Steve asked.
“They’re keeping him at the morgue for the present. I hope he doesn’t disappear again.”
“I do, too,” Steve said. “We’ll have Perry Winger run a DNA test on Julia.”
When Steve called Tyler to tell him that his father’s body had been found, Tyler was genuinely shocked.
“That’s terrible!” he said. “Who could have done a thing like that?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Steve told him.
Tyler was furious. That incompetent idiot, Baker! He’s going to pay for this. I have to get this settled before it gets out of hand. “Mr. Sloane, as you may be aware, I’ve been appointed chief judge of Cook County. I have a very heavy caseload, and they’re pressuring me to return. I can’t delay much longer. I’d appreciate it if you could do something to get the probate finished quickly.”
“I put in a call this morning,” Steve told him. “It should be closed within the next three days.”
“That will be fine. Keep me informed, please.”
“I’ll do that, Judge.”
Steve sat in his office reviewing the events of the past few weeks. He recalled the conversation he had had with Chief Inspector McPhearson.
“We found his body a little while ago. His fingers had been chopped off, and he had been shot several times.”
But wait, Steve thought. There’s something he didn’t tell me. He picked up the telephone and put in another call to Australia.
The voice on the other end of the telephone said, “This is Chief Inspector McPhearson.”
“Yes, Inspector. This is Steve Sloane. I forgot to ask you a question. When you found Dmitri Kaminsky’s body, were there any papers on him?…I see…that’s fine…Thank you very much.”
When Steve hung up the phone, his secretary’s voice came over the intercom. “Lieutenant Kennedy holding on line two.”
Steve punched the phone button.
“Lieutenant. Sorry to keep you waiting. I was on an overseas call.”
“The NYPD gave me some interesting information on Hoop Malkovich. He seems to be quite a slippery character.”
Steve picked up a pen. “Go ahead.”
“The police believe that the bakery he works for is a front for a drug ring.” The lieutenant paused, then continued. “Malkovich is probably a drug pusher. But he’s clever. They haven’t been able to nail him yet.”
“Anything else?” Steve asked.
“The police believe the operation is tied into the French mafia with a connection through Marseilles. If I learn anything else, I’ll call.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. That’s very helpful.”
Steve put down the phone and headed out the office door.
When Steve arrived home, filled with anticipation, he called, “Julia?”
There was no answer.
He began to panic. “Julia!” She’s been kidnapped or killed, he thought, and he felt a sudden sense of alarm.
Julia appeared at the top of the stairs. “Steve?”
He took a deep breath. “I thought…” He was pale.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
She came down the stairs. “Did things go well in Chicago?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” He told her what had happened. “We’re going to have a reading of the will on Thursday, Julia. That’s only three days from now. Whoever is behind this has to get rid of you by then or his—or her—plan can’t work.”
She swallowed. “I see. Do you have any idea who it is?”
“As a matter of fact…” The telephone rang. “Excuse me.” Steve picked up the telephone. “Hello?”
“This is Dr. Tichner in Florida. Sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I’ve been away.”
“Dr. Tichner. Thank you for returning my call. Our firm represents the Stanford estate.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m calling about Woodrow Stanford. I believe he’s a patient of yours.”
“Yes.”
“Does he have a drug problem, Doctor?”
“Mr. Sloane, I’m not at liberty to discuss any of my patients.”
“I understand. I’m not asking this out of curiosity. It’s very important…”
“I’m afraid I can’t…”<
br />
“You did have him admitted to the Harbor Group Clinic in Jupiter, didn’t you?”
There was a long hesitation. “Yes. That’s a matter of record.”
“Thank you, Doctor. That’s all I needed to know.”
Steve replaced the receiver and stood there a moment. “It’s unbelievable!”
“What?” Julia asked.
“Sit down…”
Thirty minutes later, Steve was in his car headed for Rose Hill. All the pieces had finally fallen into place. He’s brilliant. It almost worked. It could still work if anything happened to Julia, Steve thought.
At Rose Hill, Clark answered the door. “Good evening, Mr. Sloane.”
“Good evening, Clark. Is Judge Stanford in?”
“He’s in the library. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
“Thank you.” He watched Clark walk off.
A minute later, the butler returned. “Judge Stanford will see you now.”
“Thank you.”
Steve walked into the library.
Tyler was sitting in front of a chess board, concentrating. He looked up as Steve walked in.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. I believe the young woman who came to see you several days ago is the real Julia. The other Julia was a fake.”
“But that’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid it’s true, and I’ve found out who’s behind all this.”
There was a momentary silence. Then Tyler said slowly, “You have?”
“Yes. I’m afraid this is going to shock you. It’s your brother, Woody.”
Tyler was looking up at Steve in amazement. “Are you saying that Woody is responsible for what’s been happening?”
“That’s right.”
“I…I can’t believe it.”
“Neither could I, but it all checks out. I talked to his doctor in Hobe Sound. Did you know your brother is on drugs?”
“I…I’ve suspected it.”
“Drugs are expensive. Woody isn’t working. He needs money, and he was obviously looking for a bigger share of the estate. He’s the one who hired the fake Julia, but when you came to us and asked for a DNA test, he panicked and had your father’s body removed from the coffin because he couldn’t afford to have that test made. That’s what tipped me off. And I suspect that he sent someone to Kansas City to have the real Julia killed. Did you know that Peggy has a brother who’s tied into the mob? As long as Julia’s alive and there are two Julias around, his plan can’t work.”
“Are you sure of all this?”
“Absolutely. There’s something else, Judge.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t think your father fell off his yacht. I believe that Woody had your father murdered. Peggy’s brother could have arranged that too. I’m told he has connections with the Marseilles mafia. They could easily have paid a crew member to do it. I’m flying to Italy tonight to have a talk with the captain of the yacht.”
Tyler was listening intently. When he spoke, he said approvingly, “That’s a good idea.” Captain Vacarro knows nothing.
“I’ll try to be back by Thursday for the reading of the will.”
Tyler said, “What about the real Julia?…Are you sure she’s safe?”
“Oh, yes,” Steve said. “She’s staying where no one can find her. She’s at my house.”
Chapter Thirty-three
The gods are on my side. He could not believe his good fortune. It was an incredible stroke of luck. Last night, Steve Sloane had delivered Julia into his hands. Hal Baker is an incompetent fool, Tyler thought. I’ll take care of Julia myself this time.
He looked up as Clark came into the room.
“Excuse me, Judge Stanford. There’s a telephone call for you.”
It was Keith Percy. “Tyler?”
“Yes, Keith.”
“I just wanted to bring you up to date on the Margo Posner matter.”
“Yes?”
“Dr. Gifford just called me. The woman is insane. She’s carrying on so badly that they have to have her locked away in the violent ward.”
Tyler felt a sharp sense of relief. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Anyway, I wanted to ease your mind and let you know that she’s no longer any danger to you or your family.”
“I appreciate that,” Tyler said. And he did.
Tyler went to his room and telephoned Lee. There was a long delay before Lee answered.
“Hello?” Tyler could hear voices in the background. “Lee?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Tyler.”
“Oh, yeah. Tyler.”
He could hear the tinkling of glasses. “Are you having a party, Lee?”
“Uh-huh. Do you want to join us?”
Tyler wondered who was at the party. “I wish I could. I’m calling to tell you to get ready to go on that trip we talked about.”
Lee laughed. “You mean on that great big white yacht to St.-Tropez?”
“That’s right.”
“Sure. I can be ready anytime,” he said mockingly.
“Lee, I’m serious.”
“Oh, come off it, Tyler. Judges don’t have yachts. I have to go now. My guests are calling me.”
“Wait a minute!” Tyler said desperately. “Do you know who I am?”
“Sure, you’re—”
“I’m Tyler Stanford. My father was Harry Stanford.”
There was a moment of silence. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. I’m in Boston now, settling up the estate.”
“My God! You’re that Stanford. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I…I’ve been hearing stuff on the news, but I didn’t pay much attention. I never figured it was you.”
“That’s all right.”
“You really meant it about taking me to St.-Tropez, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. We’re going to do a lot of things together,” Tyler said. “That is, if you want to.”
“I certainly do!” Lee’s voice was suddenly filled with enthusiasm. “Gee, Tyler, this is really great news…”
When Tyler replaced the receiver, he was smiling. Lee was taken care of. Now, he thought, it’s time to take care of my half sister.
Tyler went into the library where Harry Stanford’s gun collection was kept, opened the case, and removed a mahogany box. From a drawer below the case, he took out some ammunition. He put the ammunition in his pocket and carried the wooden box upstairs to his bedroom, locked the door behind him, and opened the box. Inside were two matching Ruger revolvers, Harry Stanford’s favorites. Tyler removed one, carefully loaded it, and then placed the extra ammunition and the box containing the other revolver in his bureau drawer. One shot will do it, he thought. They had taught him to shoot well at the military school his father had sent him to. Thank you, Father.
Next, Tyler picked up a telephone directory and looked for Steve Sloane’s home address.
280 Newbury Street, Boston.
Tyler made his way to the garage, where there were half a dozen cars. He chose the black Mercedes as being the least conspicuous. He opened the garage door and listened to see if the noise had disturbed anyone. There was only silence.
On the drive to Steve Sloane’s house, Tyler thought about what he was about to do. He had never physically committed a murder before. But this time he had no choice. Julia Stanford was the last obstacle between him and his dreams. With her gone, his problems would be over. Forever, Tyler thought.
He drove slowly, careful not to attract attention. When he reached Newbury Street, Tyler cruised past Steve’s address. A few cars were parked on the street, but no pedestrians were around.
He parked the car a block away and walked back to the house. He rang the doorbell and waited.
Julia’s voice came through the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Judge Stanford.”
Julia opened the door. She looked at him in surprise. “What are you doing here? Is anything wrong?”
/> “No, not at all,” he said easily. “Steve Sloane asked me to have a talk with you. He told me you were here. May I come in?”
“Yes, of course.”
Tyler walked into the hall and watched Julia close the door behind him. She led the way into the living room.
“Steve isn’t here,” she said. “He’s on his way to San Remo.”
“I know.” He looked around. “Are you alone? Isn’t there a housekeeper or someone to stay with you?”
“No. I’m safe here. May I offer you something?”
“No, thanks.”
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I came to talk about you, Julia. I’m disappointed in you.”
“Disappointed…?”
“You should never have come here. Did you really think you could walk in and try to collect a fortune that doesn’t belong to you?”
She looked at him a moment. “But I have a right to—”
“You have a right to nothing!” Tyler snapped. “Where were you all those years when we were being humiliated and punished by our father? He went out of his way to hurt us every chance he got. He put us through hell. You didn’t have to go through any of that. Well, we did, and we deserve the money. Not you.”
“I…what do you want me to do?”
Tyler gave a short laugh. “What do I want you to do? Nothing. You’ve done it already. You damned near spoiled everything, do you know that?”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s really quite simple.” He took out the revolver. “You’re going to disappear.”
She took a step back. “But I…”
“Don’t say anything. Let’s not waste time. You and I are going on a little trip.”
She stiffened. “What if I won’t go?”
“Oh, you’ll be going. Dead or alive. Suit yourself.”
In the moment of silence that followed, Tyler heard his voice boom out from the next room. “Oh, you’ll be going. Dead or alive. Suit yourself.” He whirled around. “What…?”
Steve Sloane, Simon Fitzgerald, Lieutenant Kennedy, and two uniformed policemen stepped into the living room. Steve was holding a tape recorder.
Morning, Noon & Night Page 23
