Blood Rubies (38 page)

“Not by Locke Pond?”

“No. When we were finished, I drove back to Rocky Point. Milner headed the other way, toward Durham.” Stefan leaned forward. “When I left him, he was alive and well.”

Ellis tilted his head and leaned back. “What did you talk about?”

“I asked him to keep the appraisal confidential. He said he'd tried, but you got a court order, so he was going to have to answer your questions and he wouldn't perjure himself. I told him I understood, and I did. I was prepared to face Ana, to tell her what I'd done.”

“And then Milner died. Quite a fortuitous coincidence.”

“I didn't kill him.”

“Who did?”

“I don't know.”

“Who did you tell that you were going to meet Milner?” Ellis asked.

Stefan rubbed his head again as he had in the library. His headache must have worsened.

“You told someone,” Ellis said. “You must have.”

Stefan shook his head.

“Tell me.”

“I feel terrible about Jason,” Stefan said. “Just awful. I'm glad I told you about it. It's been a terrible weight to bear.”

“I don't think you set Milner up on purpose, but whoever you told killed him. We'll check your phone log. See who you called directly after you called him.”

Stefan stared at him for several seconds. “I speak to my children frequently. It means nothing.”

“Peter was in on it.”

“No!” Stefan protested. “Of course not.”

“It was Ana?”

“Don't be absurd.”

“I know how hard it is,” Ellis said. “Implicating your own flesh and blood.”

“Family above all.” Stefan raised his chin. “I won't do it.”

I texted Ellis, “He's wearing sandals.”

Ellis stared at his phone display for a moment, then pushed back his chair and stood up.

“I'll be back in a minute,” he told Stefan. “Detective Brownley will be here, and we'll leave the recorder rolling. If you have anything to add while I'm gone, don't hesitate.”

Ellis stuck his head into the observation room, pointed at me, and said, “Follow me.”

“What's going on?”

“Your role is over. Let's get you out of here.”

“I know what happened,” I said.

“Yeah. Me, too. Which means all that's left is the paperwork.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Ellis and I walked into the lobby side by side. As soon as we rounded the corner, Peter leaped to his feet. Ana, sitting beside him on the long wooden bench, scooched forward. Her eyes were moist. Her teeth were clamped on her bottom lip.

“Where's my father?” Peter demanded, turning the words into a threat.

Griff came into the open area from behind the counter. Stan walked out from the hallway that led to the other side of the station house. Two other uniformed officers who'd been working at desks near Cathy stood up and approached the counter. Cathy kept on typing.

Peter took in the posse and crossed his arms. Ellis put out his arm like a blockade, signaling me to stop. I moved aside and leaned against the wall. He continued walking until he stood directly in front of Peter.

“I'm going to ask you to do something,” Ellis said, “and you're not going to like it.”

“I already don't like it and you haven't asked.”

“Take off your sweater.”

Peter stared at him. “You're nuts.”

“Let's see your right arm.”

Peter swung around to talk to Ana. “This is bull. Let's get out of here.”

Ana looked toward the hallway that led to Interrogation Room One. “What about Dad?”

Peter didn't reply; instead, he marched toward the heavy front door.

Ellis pointed both index fingers toward Peter, and Griff and Stan got in front of him, blocking the exit.

“You can't leave,” Ellis said. “I have a warrant for your arrest.”

“Peter,” Ana said, walking slowly toward him. “What have you done?”

“Whatever I could to help Dad.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Peter.”

Peter swung back to face Ellis. “Am I under arrest?”

Ellis met his gaze and held it. “Yes.”

*   *   *

The sun had disappeared behind fast-moving clouds, yet the temperature had risen. I stood with Ana in the parking lot, waiting for Ray to come get her. I'd offered to drive her wherever she wanted to go, but she declined, asking me to keep her company instead.

“Did you tell Peter about the mineral oil?” I asked.

She didn't reply. She didn't look at me. Her gaze was steady on the ocean. The water had turned a dull dark green.

“I mentioned it to you,” I said. “You told him, didn't you? Not for a bad reason, just because it was an interesting little detail.”

She still didn't comment. I turned toward the water. Rows of striated waves thundered to shore fueled by a steady northeast wind.

“Ana?”

“I'm all alone,” she said.

I didn't know how to reply.

“My husband left me for an older woman.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“No one liked him but me. My dad thought he was an idiot. My friends thought he was a complete loser. I loved him, and he left me for a woman old enough to be his mother.”

“I had a boyfriend leave me because I was a downer, his word. I'd lost my job, my friends, and then my dad died, all within the space of a month or so. Two weeks later, he walked.”

“How did you cope?” Ana asked.

“I moved to New Hampshire to start a new life.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe there's hope for me.”

“Is there something I can do?” I asked.

“No.”

I kept my eyes on the ocean. Two minutes later Ray pulled into the lot and Ana hurled herself into his arms.

*   *   *

Wes and I met in the Blue Dolphin lounge at five. Ty texted that he expected to arrive earlier than expected.

I got there first and sank into my usual spot by the window. Wes walked in with an unexpected bounce to his step. He was wearing pressed navy blue slacks that fit nicely and a blue and pale pink pin-striped Oxford shirt.

“You look sharp,” I said.

He grinned. “Maggie took me shopping in Boston.” He laughed, half awkward, half proud. “I spent like a month's pay.”

“You look great, Wes.”

“Thanks.”

He looked over his shoulder until he caught Jimmy's eye. He ordered a coffee. I got a watermelon martini.

He waggled his fingers. “So … talk to me.”

“It looks like your article helped motivate Peter to act. Seeing those cowboy hat designs got him going.”

“Good to know.” He grinned. “I'll tell my editor.” His grin faded. “I heard from my police source that you were there. How come the cops let you stay the whole time?”

“I was just-in-case protection. You know … just in case an antiques question came up. Just in case Stefan said something that didn't gel with a fact I knew. Just in case Ellis needed to talk to McArthur about the Fabergé egg. Just in case.”

He grinned. “And you figured it out. Bonzo, Josie! Completely bonzo.”

“I can't believe it took me so long. It was obvious that Stefan couldn't be my attacker. He was wearing shorts and sandals, and his sleeves were pushed up. No bruises anywhere, and I'm telling you, Wes, from the whacks I got in on his ankles and arm, I'm surprised I didn't break bones.” I shrugged. “If it wasn't Stefan, it had to be Peter.”

“Or Ana.”

I shook my head. “She wasn't the person who attacked me.”

Wes tilted his head. “Do you think Jason's death was really an accident?”

“Yes. What does Stefan do when Jason falls and dies? He flees to the library and buries himself in journals and newspapers. That's perfectly consistent with his character. What happens when Peter shows up and finds Jason's body? Some kind of jealous-like-a-madman blood thirst comes over him, and he pounds Jason's head against those stones over and over again. It's logical.”

“You think?” Wes asked, sounding skeptical. “Do you think Peter is loony tunes?”

“I don't think so, but I don't know the official terminology. I know he's obsessed with Heather. She's the sun around which his world revolves. No joke. It's his be-all and end-all. He covers it up pretty well, but he's a stalker, just like in the movies, except it's real. It's terrifying, but whether that means he's crazy?” I shrugged. “If it ever gets to a trial, it's certain to be a case of dueling experts. The prosecutor will prove that Peter is rational and understands the difference between right and wrong. The defense will prove that when it comes to Heather, Peter operates in the ether.”

“What makes you think Stefan didn't do the pounding? He's aggressive, too.”

“Not like Peter. According to Heather's mom, Allison, Stefan's wife mellowed him, and when she died, he got into a confrontational funk that didn't go away until Carly came along all these years later. Allison didn't know about Carly, of course, but she definitely noticed the difference in him. That's why Stefan seemed to be calmer, warmer, nicer in the last few months.”

“This is all sounding pretty touchy-feely, Joz. Fluffy. Like you're trying to tie up a pretty package. A dedicated son protecting a much-loved father. Please. Facts are facts. Stefan confessed to pushing Jason, to watching him fall, and to leaving him, a gravely injured man, while he tootled off to the library. Does that sound ‘warmer' and ‘nicer' to you? It sure doesn't to me. It sounds pretty darn callous.”

“I know.” I looked out the window into Maine. A ragged line of wispy clouds hung low over the river. To a sailor, it would look like fog. I turned back to Wes. “I suspect Stefan's warmer side was largely lost in his anxiety about money. But in terms of Stefan—if you'd heard him, Wes, you'd understand. We knew that there were multiple blows because we were privy to the ME's imaging, but he didn't. The police never released the report, remember? You told me it was all hush-hush. When Ellis asked if he hit Jason after he was down, Stefan looked at him like he was speaking in tongues. It wasn't an act, Wes. Stefan didn't have a clue what Ellis was talking about.”

Wes shrugged. “I'm not convinced, but whatever.” He extracted his notebook, flipped to a fresh page, and made a note. “Let's say you're right. Peter saw Jason and went postal. Why did he kill Milner?”

“Because Milner was going to testify against his dad. Stefan was reconciled—faux noble, if you ask me, but that's a separate conversation. Stefan was confident that Ana wouldn't press charges, so he could take the high road, admit his wrongdoing, and announce that he was ready to accept the consequences.” I scrunched up my nose as if a distasteful odor enveloped me. “To me, it seems pretty self-serving. Regardless, Peter knew about Milner's testimony because Stefan confided in him—he called Peter right after he made the appointment to see Milner.” I held up a hand to stop Wes from interrupting. “Stefan didn't admit it, but it's the only explanation. Ellis will check Stefan's phone logs and confirm it.” I waved it aside. “In any event, Peter was afraid there would be a domino effect, that if Milner testified that his dad hired him to appraise the Fabergé egg, Stefan would be found out as a liar and would therefore become a viable suspect in Jason's murder. You know how it goes. If you lie about one thing, everything you say is suspect. Stefan's insistence that Jason died as a result of an accidental fall, if and when it came to pass that he had to acknowledge his role in Jason's death, would no longer be credible.” I shrugged. “He was protecting his dad. Family above all.” I sipped some martini, watching Wes write in his notebook. “Was Marty right? About the rock.”

“Oh, yeah. Bang on.”

“I knew it. Experts are rarely wrong.”

“Do you think that's true?”

I grinned. “Probably not.”

“Except you. You're never wrong.”

I flipped a palm and spoke in a haughty tone. “But of course, my dear. That goes without saying.”

He chuckled. “Now that we've put that puppy to bed … why do you think Peter attacked you?”

I sighed and looked aside. “I told Ana about snow globes and mineral oil, and she told Peter. He knew right away what it meant, and he knew that I knew, even if the significance hadn't yet occurred to me. He thought that my expertise was the only thing between his dad and clear sailing. With me out of the way, he was certain no one would ever think of it again, especially not the police with six thousand two hundred and twelve other things to worry about.”

“None of this would have happened if Stefan had just washed his pants and shined his shoes in the first place. Why didn't he?”

“He would have. Remember that he got chased out of Ana's house the first night he was in town because Jason got killed. No one takes dirty clothes to a hotel. I'm sure he would have cleaned up everything as soon as they got home.” I shrugged. “Plus, it probably never occurred to him that there was any big deal. He thought he'd covered his tracks way better than he did. He didn't expect anyone to connect him with the fake egg.”

“Same with the cowboy hat, right? He should have chucked it.”

“And he would have, if he'd had a glimmer of a hint of a thought that we were closing in on him. That news story had to have rattled him to his core.”

“So why didn't he throw it away?” Wes asked.

“By the time Stefan saw the paper, Timothy's crew was setting up at Ana's. I guarantee he would have tossed it as soon as he thought it was safe.”

“I don't know … if Peter was determined to help him, he should have done the cleanup then and there, right? I mean, why not just pop the pants in the washer and grab a sponge for the shoes?”