Cast a Blue Shadow (10 page)

19

Saturday, November 2 10:20 A.M.

ROBERTSON led the way into the house by the back door, followed by Bliss, DiSalvo, and Branden. They all labored out of coats, which Bliss hung on the wall pegs near the back door. Bliss, still in his blue jacket and bow tie, leaned back against the center island counter in the big kitchen, and waited with an air of indifference.

The kitchen was rimmed with white counter space and appliances in either brushed stainless steel or glossy black. Two large, double-doored refrigerators stood against the inside wall, next to the rear stairs. Next to them was counter space in the corner and two large stainless sinks along the east wall. More counter space followed to the north wall, where there were two counter-top ranges, with stainless-steel hoods overhead. At the end of the ranges sat Sally Favor, still taking coffee in her bathrobe at a round kitchen table next to the back door.

Robertson waited for DiSalvo to sit at the table with Sally and said, “Miss Favor, if you’ll be so kind, I’d like you and Jenny Radcliffe dressed within the hour. And your brother, too. We’ll all be going into town before lunch.”

Sally glanced at DiSalvo, who nodded consent. She sighed and pushed herself away from the table. The coffee carafe and mug she carried past Bliss to the sinks.

Robertson said, “Nothing in the sinks, please, Miss Favor.”

Sally eyed him disapprovingly, set the mug and carafe on the counter, and went up the rear stairs without speaking.

Robertson turned a kitchen chair out from the table and sat down heavily. Branden positioned himself in the aisle, where he could observe the expressions of both Bliss and the sheriff.

Robertson pulled at loose skin under his chin and appeared to think carefully before speaking. To Bliss he said, “Captain Newell has taken an interest in Juliet Favor’s green pitcher.”

“The Tiffany,” Bliss commented.

“Precisely. He says you emptied the contents into the sink.”

“I did.”

“Well, Mr. Bliss, we’re pulling apart the trap under that sink, and while I’m at it, I reckon we’ll get the traps on the other sinks, too.”

Bliss’s cheeks heated to pink, but his expression remained stolid. Branden considered the notion that Bliss was worried, but thought, too, that he might simply be embarrassed.

“You want to know why I emptied the pitcher,” Bliss said.

“I’d rather know why you didn’t empty the other one.”

“I would have, if your captain would have permitted.”

Robertson waited.

“I was embarrassed that the pitchers had not been cleaned.”

“A fastidious butler,” Robertson observed.

“I try to be, but yesterday was rather a long day, and Ms. Favor retired early.”

“Funny,” Robertson said, “that Juliet Favor would serve martinis and keep a pitcher of ice water for herself.”

Branden saw a curious movement in Bliss’s eyes.

“She has been alcohol intolerant for many years,” Bliss said.

Robertson turned to DiSalvo, who said, “It’s true, Bruce. She kept it very private. I am sure not even the children knew.”

“You seem to know a lot about the lady,” Robertson said.

“When my wife was still alive, we were close friends of both Harry and Juliet Favor.”

“So, she drank water?” Robertson pressed.

“Chilled well water,” Bliss said.

“And nobody knew?” Robertson asked.

“Most anyone will have observed that she drank from a separate pitcher, but such indulgences are not uncommon among the very rich,” Bliss said.

Robertson nodded as if conceding the point. “I’m curious to know what cleaning you did before my sergeant first arrived,” he said, eyes fixed on the floor at his feet.

Branden watched Bliss closely, and saw no untoward reaction.

“Why, none, of course,” Bliss replied. “I expected to find Ms. Favor in the library. Perhaps the kitchen. She’s an early riser. But, once I did find her, I touched nothing.”

“Quite the expert trooper, aren’t you, Mr. Bliss,” Robertson challenged.

“I’ve watched my share of
NYPD Blue.
”

“I like Sipowicz, myself,” Robertson said.

“I’m not surprised,” Bliss said.

“So where did all the blood go, Detective Bliss?”

“I am quite certain I do not know,” Bliss said. He pushed himself away from the island counter and stepped to the sinks, where he retrieved a wrinkled hand towel from the countertop, and came back to his original position.

“Where were you when Sonny called 911?” Robertson asked.

“In my home.” The towel got folded neatly and was laid carefully on the counter.

“How convenient,” Robertson said.

“I see no reason for sarcasm,” Bliss said coolly.

“Were the doors locked or unlocked when you came into the house?” Robertson continued.

DiSalvo said, “I think this has gone on quite long enough.”

“No, it’s OK,” Bliss said. “Unlocked, Sheriff.”

Robertson waited for an explanation. None was forthcoming.

“Isn’t that a bit unusual?” Robertson finally asked.

“Not for the Favors.”

“All of them?”

“The children have frequent parties when Ms. Favor and I are away.”

“And they don’t lock the doors?”

Bliss shrugged.

“What about Juliet Favor? She in the habit of sleeping with the doors wide open?”

“Not in the least.”

“So, you’ll admit it is unusual to find the doors open. Was that the front door, too?”

“Front and back.”

“I presume the alarms were off, too,” Robertson added.

“Evidently,” Bliss said.

Robertson pulled at an ear lobe.

Said Bliss, “I would characterize that as unusual, but not noteworthy.”

“Imagine how pleased I am to have your assistance,” Robertson shot.

Branden suppressed a smile with difficulty. DiSalvo said, “Stop it, Bruce.”

“My apologies, Mr. Bliss,” Robertson said with a wave of his hand.

Bliss remained implacably silent.

“Who comes out to these parties?” Robertson continued.

“I wouldn’t know. College students.”

“Which is it? ‘You wouldn’t know’? or ‘college students’?”

“I only presumed.”

“How many times did you plow last night?”

“Two or three.”

“Which is it? Two or three?”

“Three, last night. Twice before dinner, and once after. Once again, this morning, before sunrise. That was before I entered the house.”

“Did you see anything unusual this morning?”

“Mr. Favor had parked his car at the front.”

“Why is that unusual?” Robertson asked, turning his eyes to Branden.

“Because I don’t believe it is there now,” Bliss said.

Robertson’s neck thickened like a charging bull, and Branden knew why. A brief silence passed, the sheriff staring at the professor. Bliss noticed the look and stood up straighter, attentive.

Branden said, “Dan Wilsher has the car now, Bruce.”

Robertson’s expression did not soften. “Where is Sally’s car?” he eventually asked Bliss.

“She keeps a BMW in the garage.”

“Is it there now?”

“I believe so. Also Mr. Favor’s 4x4.”

“Last night, Mr. Bliss. Who was the last to leave?”

“I spoke with President Laughton, and I presume he left. Then there was one car left in the back, Royce’s.”

“And out front?”

“I didn’t look.”

“Did you go through the house before you turned in?”

“No.”

Abruptly finished, Robertson said to Branden, “Do you have anything further, Professor?”

Branden thought and asked, “Who were the first to arrive?”

“Mr. Favor and his girlfriend. Professor Pomeroy—I had asked him to come out early. Mr. DiSalvo. President Laughton. Dr. Royce. Then everyone else arrived at about the same time.”

“Sally and Jenny?” Robertson asked.

“I think they were here most of the day,” said Bliss. “I did not see them arrive.”

20

Saturday, November 2 10:30 A.M.

AT THE BRANDENS’ home on a cul-de-sac near the college, Caroline seated Martha at the kitchen table and put on a pot of coffee. From the many dozens of mugs she had collected over the years, she selected three—a scenic Badlands, a Niagara Falls, and a Lincoln. She carried the mugs to the kitchen table and found Martha standing at the window, gazing at a woodpecker on the feeder just beyond the storm windows of the long back porch. To Caroline, Martha’s posture seemed more relaxed. Caroline stood quietly beside the table and signaled Dr. Carson with a finger to her lips.

Martha watched the birdfeeder for several minutes after the woodpecker had left, and then stirred. She turned to face Caroline and Evelyn and looked at each of them. Stepping away from the window, she came around the large table and walked into the Brandens’ family room. There she stood in front of the fireplace, eyes fixed on a Civil War musket on the mantel. Familiar with the room, Martha dropped casually into a recliner. She used the remote to switch on Fox 8 News from Cleveland, and idly watched a forecast calling for continued cold, Saturday morning, skies graying, as another storm approached from the northwest for Saturday night.

Back in the kitchen, Martha accepted a mug of coffee from Caroline and sat opposite the two women at the rectangular table. Her eyes settled on the elaborate grain in the curly maple tabletop, and she listened to Caroline and Evelyn as she took an occasional sip of coffee.

Said Caroline, “Martha, let us help you.”

Evelyn tried, “Martha, tell us about the blood.”

Martha gazed a long time into Dr. Carson’s eyes, and then turned away, silent.

After a dozen or so further questions, Caroline shook her head and signaled Evelyn to follow her to the living room. She drew back drapes to let in strong morning sun, and sat on a couch next to Martha’s purse, which they had found in the Lexus. “I feel like such a snoop,” she said to Evelyn, who swept her fingers forward to encourage Caroline.

Caroline emptied the contents of the purse onto the coffee table, and she and the psychiatrist knelt on the carpet to go through the items. Aside from the usual things, they found a fat leather folder holding pictures, a little blue notebook with phone numbers and handwritten notes in different inks, a cell phone and its charger, and a laminated table of photographic data, which Martha had evidently made for herself on a computer. Caroline started paging through the blue book, and Evelyn turned the cell phone on.

Most of the numbers Caroline found were listed beside names —friends, professors, relatives. Two numbers were listed without names. To Evelyn, she said, “See if this one is in that phone’s address book.” She held the little blue spiral notebook so Evelyn could see the number.

Evelyn punched keys and said, “The Martins. It’s a Canton exchange.”

“It was Martins who adopted her child,” Caroline said. “Steve and Becky Martin.”

“Do you think she will have been in touch with them?” Evelyn asked.

“Could have been.”

“That would carry a significant emotional price,” Evelyn said.

“Try this number,” Caroline said, and showed Evelyn the book again.

Evelyn scrolled through the address book, and after a minute or so, said, “It’s listed simply as ‘Ben.’”

Caroline stood up and took the phone. In the kitchen, she showed the display to Martha and gently asked, “Is that who I think it is?”

Martha looked dispassionately at the listing and said nothing.

Caroline scrutinized Martha’s expressionless features and then pushed SEND, holding the phone to her ear. Evelyn Carson sat down to listen to Caroline’s half of the conversation. Martha looked away.

“Hello,” Caroline said. “I presume you are Ben Schlabaugh?”

“Caroline Branden.”

“Yes, I am sure you do, Mr. Schlabaugh, and let me assure you I remember you very well, too.”

“No, but I wouldn’t call you on her behalf, for anything.”

“Why?”

“That would be out of the question.”

“You tell me.”

“I only want to know why she’s been calling you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“No. It’s preposterous.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“No. You listen. Martha may be in some kind of trouble. She’s not talking again.”

A pause.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Not Martha. Me.”

“When?”

“Where?”

“Count on it, Mr. Schlabaugh.”

She switched off and very slowly put the phone on the table.

“It sounds as if you’re going to meet him,” Evelyn said.

“Tomorrow is an off Sunday for Amish.”

“He’s willing to talk?”

“Says he’s eager to!” Caroline exclaimed. “That takes some nerve.”

Evelyn nodded.

“I said I’d go down to Charm, tomorrow,” Caroline explained “To meet him in the parking lot of that old cheese factory at 2:00 P.M.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“He said just me.”

“I don’t care.”

“OK, but I’ve got a thing or two to say to him.”

“OK. But first, you’re going to have to hear some things that perhaps you’ll find surprising. You don’t know the whole story about Ben Schlabaugh.”

Martha watched the two women silently.
It wasn’t Ben. Don’t blame him. He took me away. He made it stop. Chased the blue shirt away.

21

Saturday, November 2 10:35 A.M.

SALLY and Jenny descended the front staircase of the Favor home dressed in blue jeans and colorful sweaters. They each had a winter coat, and they held matching wool caps. They also each held a cigarette, Jenny a lighter, too. They came up to Ricky Niell at the front door waving their cigarettes, and Sally said, “Good morning, Officer.”

Niell said, “It’s Sergeant. Sergeant Ricky Niell.”

Jenny said, “Officer Ricky. Now that’s a nice name, isn’t it, Sally?”

Sally said, “Sergeant, please tell the Oaf Sheriff that we’ll be on the front porch.”

Niell opened the door for them and stepped outside to hold it open while they exited. “Oaf is right,” he said. “You got another one of those?”

Sally and Jenny exchanged amused glances. Jenny took out a pack and offered a cigarette to Niell. He took it, and she lighted it for him. Niell drew on the cigarette as if he had needed a fix all morning. He closed the door and stayed outside with the women.

On the shaded front porch, the snow had not melted. On the parking oval below the porch, patches of blacktop showed, where Daniel had plowed, and there the snow was melting slowly in the sun. Niell stepped to the far end of the porch, and, to the west, he saw dark clouds approaching. Blowing smoke into a crisp westerly breeze, he said, “Sheriff Robertson is a piece of work.”

“I’ll say,” Sally said and approached Niell, kicking snow with her boots. “He’s a colossal bore.”

Niell turned to face her on the porch. “I don’t think he has a handle on the finer points of this case,” Niell commented. “And please let me say, I am sorry about your mother.”

“I’m not,” Sally said hotly. “She was a hypocrite.”

Niell waited.

Sally said, “Do you know how many affairs she’s had on campus?”

Niell shook his head and watched Sally’s eyes intently.

“Three in ten years, that I know of.”

“Wow,” Niell said. “You know that for sure?”

“Pomeroy and Royce were just the latest,” Sally said pointedly. “If she’s said it once, she’s said it a thousand times. ‘All I want is for a man to be strong.’ Please! What a whiner. She’s the biggest castrater I know.”

“Or she was,” Niell said, hoping to get a reaction.

“Was. Yes, was. She’s got my brother cut back to a spineless brat, and Royce, her latest, is a stumble-down drunk.”

Niell’s mind raced to anticipate what to say next, to keep her talking. “I don’t think she would have liked our sheriff,” he said, laughing.

Sally smiled. “She’d have taken him on, all right. The most competitive person I know.” She drew long on her cigarette and exhaled slowly. “You think it’s right, Sergeant Niell, that a mother would find it necessary to compete with her children?”

Niell shook his head.

“She’s all hammers and nails,” Sally said. “Tough, or so she thinks.”

Niell crushed out his smoke on the porch railing and said, “It sounds like she had it tough.”

“Maybe as a child, but not after she married. Not then at all.”

“My old lady was like that, too,” Ricky lied.

Sally said, “She was cruel. You should have heard her bawling out Martha Lehman. ‘White Trash’ this, and ‘Country Trash’ that.”

“Is that Sonny’s girl?”

“If he has the brains to keep her,” Sally said.

“Is she a pretty nice girl?”

“Yeah, sure. I guess. Kinda simple. But, my mother thought she had her number. Told her she was no good for Sonny. Told her she knew about her ‘dalliance’ with Professor Royce. Bawled her out something fierce, and told her that if she didn’t break it off with Sonny, she’d have her ruined at school.”

“Whew, what a—,” Niell said. “Where’d she get off talking like that?”

“If you look like you stand half a chance of costing my mother money, she’ll claw your eyes out.”

“How did you hear them?” Niell asked. He knew instantly that he had wrecked the flow of the conversation, so he quickly said, “Say, can you spare another smoke?”

Jenny handed over her pack, and Niell knocked one out. He bent low and cupped his hands around Jenny’s lighter, and puffed. When he looked up, Sally was gazing at the dark clouds in the west, and her eyes had moistened.

“I’ve been on a yo-yo string all my life,” she said with her back turned. “Trying to win her approval, and then giving up. And trying again because I couldn’t help it.” She turned around, crying. “That’s Sonny’s problem. He hasn’t given up. Nothing could ever be good enough for Mother. So I quit trying. Sonny’s never going to make it on his own.”

Niell knocked ash off his cigarette and held Sally’s eyes sympathetically. Sally grew quiet and drew inward. Jenny went to her and embraced her as she continued to cry softly. Niell leaned against the railing and waited.

After a while, Jenny held Sally at arm’s length and said, “It’s over, Sally. She’s gone.”

Sally lifted her head and dried her tears on the sleeve of her coat. Niell produced a handkerchief and said, “Keep it.”

Sally used it and stuffed it into the pocket of her coat. “I don’t know why I told you that, Sergeant. I hope it won’t be used against me in a court of law.”

Niell laughed. “Nothing of the kind,” he said.

“Thank you,” Sally smiled.

The two women descended the porch steps and walked around the front corner of the house, toward the back. Niell found a bottle of mouthwash in the back bathroom on the second floor and took it out on the front porch. There, he rinsed until he could no longer taste tobacco.