Mother's Day (17 page)

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Karen calmly. “Are you looking for me?”

Walter glanced from Karen to Greg and Jenny, who had walked up and flanked her. “May we come in?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Karen, stepping aside. Walter and Larry entered the house, leaving the other officers talking in low tones outside. As she followed Officer Tillman into the living room, Karen had the thought of offering them something to drink, then remembered that she was not feeling especially hospitable.

“I think we should talk privately,” Walter said, glancing at Jenny.

“Jenny, why don’t you go on up,” said Karen.

“This is all my fault,” Jenny cried.

“Never mind,” said Karen. “Go on.” As soon as Jenny left the room, Karen turned to Detective Ference. “Look, I know what this is all about.” Her heart was pounding, but she was proud of the steadiness in her voice. “My daughter said a lot of misleading things to that Hodges woman, but she was under a lot of stress “

“We don’t pay much attention to newspaper articles, Mrs. Newhall,” said Walter.

Karen looked at him in confusion. “You don’t? Well, then, I don’t…“

Walter turned from her and looked at Greg. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Newhall.”

Greg rubbed his mouth nervously with his fingers. “Okay,” he said.

Karen frowned at them and sat down gingerly on the edge of the sofa.

“How long have you known the deceased, Linda Emery?” asked Detective Ference.

“Well, as we told you, she showed up here Sunday night.”

“And you never met her before Sunday night?”

Greg frowned, as if trying to concentrate. “I don’t think so…no…I mean, I may have…you know…”

Walter Ference remained impassive, but Karen thought she saw the redheaded uniformed officer smirk in a way that made her feel furious.

“Did you visit Miss Emery in her motel room on Monday night?” asked Walter.

“Of course not,” Karen cried. “What are you talking about? He was with a client.”

Greg stared at the detective, his expression blank. Sweat started to bead around his hairline.

“Mr. Newhall,” said the detective. “This is not a fishing expedition. You may want to call your attorney. We have a witness who saw your van at the motel.”

“That’s stupid,” said Karen. “There must be a million trucks like his.”

“It happens that she was looking out for a van at the time. She gave us an exact description.”

Karen turned to her husband. He was staring at the floor. “Greg?” she said.

He did not meet her inquiring gaze. “All right,” he said. “All right. Yes, I did go there.”

“Why?” Karen exclaimed. “You never said anything to me about it.”

“Let me caution you of your rights, Mr. Newhall,” Walter interjected.

“His rights!” Karen exclaimed.

“Never mind,” said Greg to the detective. “There’s no need. It’s just that I never mentioned this to my wife. That I had seen Miss Emery. But, yes, I did. I won’t deny it.”

“And why did you go to see her?” Walter asked calmly.

“Well, Karen and I had been talking, you know, since she showed up like that, so unexpectedly. Karen was convinced that she was trying to come between us and Jenny. We weren’t exactly straight with you about that. My wife was very upset about that. Not like they portrayed it in the paper,” Greg said hurriedly. “But upset. Worried. You can understand that.”

“Certainly,” said Walter.

Greg was rubbing his knuckles with the palm of his hand as he spoke. “I kept reassuring Karen that there was nothing to worry about,” he went on. “But I guess, deep down, I wasn’t comfortable with her explanation, either. I…wanted to know why she had come here. I thought maybe she had some other agenda in mind. You know, maybe that she was going to try to…I don’t know what. Try to take Jenny away from us or something.”

Walter nodded.

“Anyway,” Greg went on, “I just thought I would seek Miss Emery out and make sure that she was…you know…on the level.” ‘

“Greg,” Karen cried, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this.”

“Honey, I didn’t want you to worry.”

“And after your conversation?” Walter prodded.

“I…uh…I was satisfied,” said Greg, “that her intentions were fairly innocent. Pretty straightforward. She just wanted to meet the child she had given away.”

Walter tapped on his pad with his pen. “So, you talked this over, and then you left, and came home.”

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Newhall, do you remember what time your husband arrived home?”

“I don’t know,” Karen said distractedly. “I went to bed early. Very early. I mean, I don’t usually.”

Walter turned back to Greg. “And once you got home, you decided not to tell your wife about this meeting with Miss Emery. Wouldn’t your information have been reassuring to her as well?”

“Well, after I talked to her, there didn’t seem to be anything to be concerned about, so, you know, I thought, let sleeping dogs lie “

Karen did not know what was making her more angry—the fact that Greg had done this and not told her or the detective’s insinuations that because Greg had seen Linda Emery he was somehow a suspect. She couldn’t work up too much anger at Greg—-this was typical of him. Always trying to protect her, as if she were still a schoolgirl in knee socks. Still, why did he have to keep it a secret?

“Mr. Newhall,” said Walter, “does your wife know about your previous relationship with Miss Emery?”

Greg’s complexion turned ashen. “What previous relationship?” he asked cautiously.

“Isn’t it true that you had an intimate relationship with Linda Emery fourteen years ago?”

“Stop it,” Karen blurted out. “That’s ridiculous. He told you he’d never met the woman before.”

No one looked at her. There was a silence in the room. Karen felt as if she were in some sort of bad dream where everything familiar had become suddenly strange and distorted.

She turned to her husband. Greg glanced at her and then away. In that split second she knew. Her world was about to topple. She stood up, as if by standing she could somehow stop him from speaking, make everybody leave.

Greg put his face in his hands for a moment. Then he looked up. “All right,” he said softly. “I was afraid of this.”

“Let me remind you, Mr. Newhall,”
said Walter Ference. “You may want to call a lawyer before saying anything more.”

“A lawyer?” Greg mumbled. He sat, lost in thought for a moment. Then he shook his head. “How did you find out?”

“A friend of Miss Emery’s came forward,” said Walter briskly.

Greg looked dazed. “She swore she never told anyone.”

Walter gave Greg a thin smile. “People often tell you what you want to hear. Do you wish to wait for counsel, Mr. Newhall?”

“No,” Greg whispered. Then he said more firmly, “No, I can’t do that to my wife. I can’t leave her hanging like this. Anyway, I haven’t done anything wrong…well, not legally, anyway.”

“Suppose you tell us all about it,” said Walter.

Karen was staring at Greg. She felt as if someone were squeezing her heart so tightly that it might explode. “You knew her?” she said. It was hard to catch her breath, as if she had been running.

“I’m sorry,” said Greg. “She said she never told a soul.”

“She lied,” said Walter. “Did you kill her?”

Greg ground the heel of his hand against his forehead. “No, no, of course not. But when I heard she had been murdered, I panicked.” He looked at Karen beseechingly. “I was afraid to tell the truth. I knew how it would look for me. I didn’t think I had to say anything. No one knew about it… “

“About what?” said Karen. Her hands were trembling in her lap.

Greg looked away from her. “Our relationship,” he muttered.

“You had an affair with her?” Karen whispered.

Greg nodded.

It was as if someone had tilted the room. Karen grabbed on to the arm of the sofa to keep her balance. She suddenly felt cold. Freezing.

“The only person who knew, or so I thought, was Arnold Richardson. Our attorney. And that was privileged information.”

Karen peered at her husband in disbelief and confusion. “Arnold Richardson? Why would you tell him?” She felt a sudden blast of comprehension. “Were you planning to divorce me? Good God! Is that what you’re saying?”

Greg shook his head and spoke in a dull voice. “Not divorce. You’ll probably think it’s worse than that. There’s something I…never told you,” he finished weakly.

Karen did not reply. Greg glanced at Walter.

“Go ahead,” said Walter.

“Karen, it all happened around that time when we were trying so hard to adopt and getting nowhere with it. You were so depressed. Do you remember?”

Karen stared at him as if she were in a trance.

Greg cleared his throat. “I met Linda at Miller’s. She was waitressing there. I was having lunch there most days. Sometimes dinner, too. You didn’t seem to want me to come home in those days. I don’t mean that as an excuse. There’s no excuse, really.”

“How could you?” Karen breathed, shaking her head. “How could you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Greg said again. “She and I…we fell in with one another in a way. She was very lonely and…messed up, and I was…I don’t know. You didn’t want me. You kept telling me our life was ruined ‘cause we couldn’t have kids.”

“Oh, it’s my fault,” said Karen furiously.

Greg shook his head. “No,” he said. He looked up at Walter Ference. “Could I talk to my wife in private?” he asked.

“No,” said Walter bluntly. “It’s too late for that.”

The detective’s words seemed to snap Greg around. “You’re right,” he said. “I had years to tell her…and I didn’t. I was a coward. I was afraid “He looked at Karen. “I don’t know if you can forgive me,” he said, “but in a way, it will be a relief to be rid of this secret.” He took a deep breath and then he continued. His voice was flat, without emotion. “We only had a brief relationship, but Linda got pregnant.”

Karen covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “No,” she cried.

His droning voice drowned out her cry. “She was only seventeen. I thought she was older, I swear it. I never knew until…Anyway, she was Catholic, and didn’t want to have an abortion. I pleaded with her to let us have the baby. She finally agreed that would be best. We arranged it with Arnold Richardson.”

Karen leapt to her feet. “You’re lying!” she shouted. “This isn’t true.” She walked over to where he sat, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“Yes,” he said. “Linda is…was…Jenny is my child by Linda Emery.”

As hard as she could, Karen slapped her husband across the face. Greg’s head snapped back, but he did not flinch or cry out. He did not look at her.

“Take it back,” she demanded, and her voice broke.

Larry Tillman took Karen by the arms and forcibly guided her back to the sofa. “Sit down, ma’am,” he said. “I’m sorry, but we’re not finished here.”

Greg rubbed his face. Then he spread his hands wide and shrugged. “There’s not much more to tell,” he said. “Linda used the money we gave her to go away, to have the baby and start a new life. That’s what she wanted. I never heard from her or saw her again until she showed up here on Sunday.”

“And threatened to blow your life sky high,” said Walter.

“I was afraid of that,” Greg admitted, “but when I went to talk to her she said she had no grievance with me. She had no intention of telling our secret.”

“But how could you be sure of that?” Walter asked. “She was a grave threat to you.”

Greg looked at the detective defiantly. “I believed her.”

“Mr. Newhall, you might as well know that based on the statements of our two witnesses, we have obtained a warrant to search these premises.”

Greg waved a hand absently. “Go ahead,” he said. “I have nothing more to hide. I didn’t kill her.”

Walter nodded to Larry, who walked to the front door and called to the uniformed officers outside. One came into the house, tipping his hat politely to Karen. Two more entered behind him. The rest stayed outside. “Start upstairs,” said Larry to the officer as he left the room. He called out the front door. “Search the van, and the garage.”

Karen sat on her sofa and stared at the man she had loved since she was fourteen. He looked like an old man. The side of his face was pink where she had slapped him, but his complexion had a grayish hue. He kept his eyes focused on some point on the floor in front of him. He would not meet her gaze. In a way, she was glad. She did not know how she would ever look in those eyes again. Those traitorous eyes, in which she had always seen honesty and love, through a lifetime of lies.

“This cop wants to come in my room,” said Jenny, appearing in the doorway.

“It’s okay, honey,” Greg said automatically.

Karen turned and looked at Greg’s daughter, as if seeing her for the first time. Karen used to tease Greg that Jenny took after him in certain inborn traits and tastes, and they would laugh because, of course, it was impossible. And all the time he knew. He was always quick to say that even dogs began to resemble their masters when they’d lived together long enough. Married people came to look alike. Everyone knew that. And all the while, he had a secret. Jenny was his own flesh and blood.

“What’s he looking for?” Jenny asked. Greg did not answer. Jenny looked at Karen. “Mom?”

That single, questioning syllable had its customary effect on Karen. “It’s all right,” she managed to say.

Jenny turned to Walter Ference. “My mother didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.

“We know that,” said Detective Ference.

Jenny seemed surprised and a little taken aback by this. “How come you’re still here, then?”

Before Walter could frame an answer, the front door opened and Larry Tillman stepped back inside. “Lieutenant?” he said. He was holding a plastic bag. Inside the bag was what appeared to be a key—with a large plastic disc on the key chain.

Walter rose and walked over to his officer. He examined the contents of the bag through the plastic.

“Jefferson Motel, room 173,” Larry confided. “We found it behind the passenger seat in the van.”

Greg jumped to his feet. “That’s impossible,” he protested. “She was never in my truck. I spoke to her in her room and then I left. That’s it. That’s all that happened.”