Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1) (23 page)

“Parts are. But I live not too far from the Rocky Mountains.”

“Hmm. Not flat there.”

“No, sir.”

Ryan, her voice impatient, asked sharply, “You were one of the ones who found the body, weren’t you?”

Lorry turned slightly to look at Ryan. “Yes, I was.”

“What did you see?”

Lorry’s description of the events in the garden matched Kendall’s.

“So you just met Jillian Martin over the weekend?”

“Yes. We spoke a few times. That’s all.”

“What impression did you have of her?”

“She seemed very unkind to her sister.”

“How so?”

She told them about the events of Saturday night.

“You believe Shauna murdered her sister?”

“Oh, no!” Lorry’s face took on a horrified expression. “You asked me about Jillian and I told you what little I had observed. I never meant to imply that Shauna could have killed her sister. She didn’t even seem to be angry with her.”

“Shauna wasn’t angry with her sister?” Manziuk’s voice was heavy with disbelief.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but she wasn’t. She blamed herself for making Jillian upset.”

“Could she have been putting on an act?”

“I really don’t think so, Inspector. As a matter of fact, she reminded me of a couple of women I know. For the last eight months, I’ve been volunteering one evening a week in a shelter for abused women. The kinds of things Shauna said about Jillian were very similar to what some of those women would say about their husbands. How it was their own fault for making their husbands angry. One of the first steps that abused women need to take is to realize that they aren’t the ones at fault.”

“So you feel Jillian was abusing Shauna?”

“It sounds really unusual, I know, but yes, I guess I do. Jillian was so angry, it was irrational. There was nothing wrong with the way Shauna looked. Jillian herself was wearing heavier makeup and a more revealing dress. It was ridiculous for her to attack Shauna.”

“If Shauna didn’t kill her sister, who do you think might have?”

Lorry’s eyes widened. “Do you actually believe it was one of the people in this house?”

“There’s a very good chance.”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“You played the piano for quite a while this afternoon?”

“Yes. I have some music books along, and Ellen said no one would mind.”

“What time was it when you began playing?”

“I didn’t look at my watch, but we had lemonade on the patio about three, and I drank mine pretty quickly and then went upstairs to get my music. It was so hot outside. I guess I’m not used to this heat. So it was probably about a quarter after three at the latest.”

“While you were playing, did you see or hear anyone?”

“Nick came in for a few seconds just after I had started to play. And Ellen looked in once. She was going upstairs to lie down for a few minutes. Then Kendall came to see if I wanted to go for a walk.”

“When did Ellen come in?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe ten minutes after I started. I know Kendall came in at a quarter to four because we both looked at our watches.”

“So you didn’t see or hear anything that could help us?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay. Don’t hesitate to call on us if something comes to you.” He showed Lorry to the door and then turned back to look at Ryan.

“Can you not understand that I know what I’m doing?”

“You were babbling on about the countryside.”

“I was trying to make her comfortable. She just found a murdered woman about her own age. Whether she realizes it or not, she’s likely in shock.”

Ryan looked down at her notebook.

“If you can’t keep your mouth shut, at least try to understand the track I’m on and follow it. Do you think you could handle that much?”

She looked up. Brown eyes met steel gray ones. “I know what you think,” she said.

“And what do I think?”

“That I’ve been promoted because I’m a black woman.”

“What if I do?”

“I would have been promoted anyway. Sooner or later. Because I’m good.”

“Then stop trying to prove you can do my job and do your own!”

“I am trying to do my job.” Her voice was even as she spit out each word.

“Right now, your job is to do what I tell you! Until you prove to me you can handle that, you don’t do anything else. Now, I have a murder to solve. I don’t have time to waste on you. Either do what you’re here for or get out and let me send for someone else who isn’t overly challenged by taking notes and watching for inconsistencies in the answers we get! Now, can you do it?”

She broke eye contact as she looked down at the page in front of her that she had filled with shorthand. “Yes, I can do it,” she said quietly. She looked up again. “But I’m not a secretary. I’m a police officer.”

“Then stop wasting my time and go get me the third person who found the body. Maybe he noticed something the others missed.”

Nicholas James Donovan, known to his friends and acquaintances as Nick, sat stiff and straight in the old leather arm chair, eyes attentive as he waited for the Inspector’s first question.

Keen, direct eyes, thought Manziuk. And, perhaps, just a trifle wary? Manziuk leaned back in his chair and asked lazily, “I understand you were involved in finding Mrs. Martin’s body?”

“Yes.” Nick’s eyes moved away from Manziuk’s.

“Ever found a body before?” Manziuk asked.

Nick looked back at him. “No,” he snapped.

“An unnerving experience.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I thought it was a joke at first. I teased Lorry about imagining things. Then I saw her…”

“Not a very nice sight.”

“She was so beautiful, so alive, and to see her like that…” He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath. “What exactly do you want to know, Inspector? I don’t think you really want to chat about finding dead bodies, do you?”

Manziuk studied the young man before him. A good-looking, bright, young man. And a wary one. Was he afraid of being arrested for murder?

“We have to talk to all the people who were here at the time of Mrs. Martin’s death.”

“So you want my alibi?”

“If you don’t mind. Say from about two o’clock until the discovery of the body.”

“Very well. I ate lunch on the terrace with the others. Then I went for a swim and more or less lazed around. We had some drinks at approximately three o’clock, after which I wandered over to the rose garden. It was twenty past three, by the way. At about a quarter to four, I went back toward the house and saw Kendall coming out with Lorry. We went to the Japanese garden and found the body.”

“So, from about three-twenty until three-forty-five you were alone in the rose garden?”

“Yes.” Nick was looking directly at him. “I realize that isn’t a particularly good alibi, but it happens to be the truth.”

“Lorry Preston says you stopped in at the music room.”

“Just for a couple of minutes, if that. It was right before I went to the rose garden.”

“Why did you go to the rose garden?”

“To meet Mrs. Martin.”

NINE

You went there to meet Mrs. Martin?” Manziuk asked.

“Jillian,” Nick replied. “Is that better?”

“And how long have you known Jillian Martin?”

Nick shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “I knew Jill
Jensen
. I met her just over four years ago. I was twenty-one; she was nineteen. We dated for about six months, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Did you know she would be at the Brodies’ this weekend?”

“Of course not. I’d heard the name Jillian Martin, but I never dreamed there was a connection.”

“When did you first see her this weekend?”

“Friday when she arrived. I came downstairs and saw a bunch of people outside. I knew Mr. Brodie’s partners were coming for the weekend and I’d never met them, so I glanced out just to see how they looked. Jill—Jillian—was in the car with the door open. At first, I couldn’t believe it was her.”

“Why not?”

“Because when I knew her, she was a waitress at a bar near where I was working for the summer. It wasn’t a bad place or anything, but you don’t really expect a cocktail waitress to show up with a high-class lawyer—not as his wife, anyway!”

“Who put an end to your dating Jillian?” Manziuk continued.

Nick stared at him for a moment. “She did.”

“Why,” Manziuk asked, “were you meeting her this afternoon?”

Nick had been sitting forward in his chair. Now he leaned back and gave a low laugh. “Look, I’d better go back and start over. This has all been so crazy. I mean, you don’t expect your old girlfriend to show up married to a top lawyer and then get herself killed all in one weekend. I realize I’m a logical suspect. Motive jealousy or revenge or some such thing. And I also realize that if I don’t tell you the ‘whole truth and nothing but the truth,’ you’ll find out and that’ll make it look worse.”

“Okay, start from the top.”

“The last summer of my college days, I worked for a small law firm in the sticks. Mostly, I sat in the law library and researched a lot of boring stuff. There was a reasonably classy tavern nearby, and I used to go there after five to wake up.

“Jill was a waitress. She was… the word ‘beautiful’ is inadequate—and I got interested—along with a lot of other people. She went out with me and we—or I should say
I
—fell in love.” Nick’s voice was slow and hesitant. “I asked her to marry me. I thought she would. I thought she felt the same as I did. She didn’t. She said she had higher expectations. I told her I’d be a lawyer in a few years, and I’d also been asked to do some professional skiing, and that if I was any good at either I’d have no trouble supporting a family. But she said she wasn’t taking any chances. She basically said that if I’d had money right then, she’d have married me, but since I didn’t—” Nick paused for a moment and studied the floor. “I kept on trying to get her to change her mind. Finally, she got her point across.

“A couple of months later, I went back to the tavern once just to see if she had changed her mind, I guess. But the bartender said she’d taken a better job somewhere else and he didn’t know her address.”

“Do you have a girlfriend now?” Manziuk asked.

Nick flashed a grin. “Lots of them.”

“No one in particular?”

“I believe in playing the field. When I met Jill, I was young and inexperienced. She did me a favor—showed a lot more sense than I did.” He sat forward again, hands on knees. “Look, if she’d married me, it would have lasted about a year, if that. If you’ve got any idea that I’m still in love with her, assuming I ever really was, get it out of your head. After I got over the shock of seeing her, I was happy she’d done well. Martin is successful and seems like a nice guy. I was glad for her.”

“She wanted to meet you in the rose garden?” Manziuk asked.

“Yes. She came over while I was in the pool and said she had a surprise for me and I should be in the rose garden at three-thirty sharp. She didn’t wait for a reply—just smiled rather mysteriously and left.”

“What time was that?”

“About one-thirty. We all had drinks later on, but I didn’t want to question her with other people around. No one here knew that we‘d met before, and, frankly, I preferred to keep it that way.”

“The rose garden? Not the Japanese garden?”

Nick shrugged. “That’s what I heard her say.”

“Had Mrs. Martin talked to you on Friday or Saturday?”

“Not really. She tried to talk once on Saturday, but I found an excuse to get away. I was afraid she might want to go over old times or something. So I guess I more or less avoided her. Nothing personal, but I’d pretty well forgotten about her and I wasn’t sure how she’d take that.”

“Did you think she was happy?” Manziuk asked with a little more sharpness.

Nick looked puzzled. “Happy? I guess so. She seemed to be having a good time.”