Sketch Me If You Can (26 page)

Grace switched off the television and in a voice that was surprisingly strong for so frail a body, invited Rory to have a seat in the armchair that was closest to her.

“Anna,” she said, “would you bring us some of that wonderful peach iced tea you make?”

“It’s actually raspberry,” Anna reminded her kindly.

Grace seemed perplexed for a moment. Then she smiled. “Oh, well of course it is. I can’t imagine what I was thinking.”

After the housekeeper left, she turned to Rory. “So, Jeremy tells me that you’ve taken over the investigation into my Gail’s death.”

“Yes, and I want to extend my sincerest condolences on the loss of your daughter. It must be a terrible thing to bear.”

“It is the very worst thing that can happen to a parent, even one as old and sick as I am. My only solace is that I’ll be joining her soon in a place that is far better than this one.”

Rory nodded, thinking that if all she’d heard about Gail was true, there was a good chance she wouldn’t be going to the same place as her mother.

“I’m sure that having Jeremy is a comfort,” she said in an effort to redirect the conversation.

Grace’s smile was bittersweet. “Jeremy is a darling boy, you know, but he has his demons.”

Rory decided to play dumb.

“Gambling,” Grace said. “It’s a horrible addiction, like drugs or alcohol, but easier to hide. Over the years his father and I tried everything to help him, psychologists, medication, support groups. I’ve even threatened to write him out of my will.”

“How is he doing?”

Grace shrugged her narrow shoulders and sighed. “He claims that he’s on the wagon, so to speak, but I can’t be sure.”

Anna walked in at that moment, carrying two tall glasses of the raspberry iced tea, along with coasters to place them on. When Rory had thanked her and praised the tea, the housekeeper smiled broadly and said that she’d be in the kitchen fixing dinner if she was needed. Rory was beginning to wish she had an Anna living with her too.

She set her glass down on its coaster. “Were he and Gail close?”

“In their way I suppose. She did try to look after him, being the big sister and all. I suspect that she helped him out of some tight financial situations when I refused to. But she told me not long before she died that she didn’t want to keep enabling him. That’s one of those million-dollar words psychologists like to throw around. They’re very good at making sure everyone in the family shares in the guilt. Anyway, she was going to try what they call ‘tough love.’ ”

“Forgive me for asking this,” Rory said, as kindly as she could, “but do you think Jeremy might have been desperate enough to retaliate against that tough love?”

Grace laughed; it was a brittle sound devoid of any amusement. “Are you asking me if I think Jeremy could have hurt his sister?”

“I’m sorry. I know it must be a difficult thing to consider. But addictions make people do some terrible things and often to the people they love most.” Rory waited for Grace to tear into her for having suggested such a possibility. To her surprise, Grace didn’t even seem offended.

“I’m a realist, my dear, so don’t think I didn’t consider that possibility, as distasteful as it is. If you had asked me that question even five years ago, I would have said ‘absolutely not.’ But Jeremy has changed in recent years. There are times when I feel as if I don’t really know him anymore, and that’s a terrible thing for a mother to admit. But when the coroner determined that Gail’s death was accidental, Jeremy went right out and hired your uncle to take on the investigation. And when Mr. McCain passed on so tragically, Jeremy asked you to continue it. He would never have done that if he were guilty. He may have an awful addiction, but he’s not an idiot.”

No, Rory thought, not an idiot at all. If Casey was right, Jeremy might just be the slyest fox of them all.

“Now then, I think we’ve spent quite enough time discussing my son’s flaws,” Grace said firmly. “I want to know how the investigation is going.”

“I may have some evidence to support the theory that Gail was murdered. That’s why I have to ask the hard questions, regardless of who hired me. And I apologize again if I’ve come across as rude or insensitive.”

“One does what one has to do,” Grace said. “Tell me about this new evidence.”

“I can’t discuss the details yet, because it’s still very speculative at this point. But it would be a great help if I could have something that belonged to Gail—a brush, or maybe an article of clothing.”

Grace frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything like . . . oh, wait. She did borrow a shawl of mine not too long ago. She’d left her jacket at home and the weather was turning cooler.”

“Has it been cleaned since she used it?”

“I don’t think so. It’s not the sort of thing that gets dirty easily. Would you like to see it?”

Rory said that she would. If her luck held, she might just find some DNA for Reggie after all. “There is one other thing we could really use—a set of Gail’s fingerprints.”

“Oh my. Anna keeps the house so shiny and spotless, I can’t imagine you’d even find my fingerprints anywhere.”

“Do you remember if Gail’s elementary school took part in the child identification program?”

“I’d forgotten all about that; it was so many years ago. But now that you mention it . . . I recall how disturbing it was, the whole concept of having the prints in case your child went missing.” Grace was staring off into space, as if she were lost in that other time when she was a young mother.

“Do you think you might still have them? Grace?” Rory asked, trying to draw her back from the past.

Grace took a moment to come around, looking a bit disoriented, like someone who’d just been awakened from a nap. “Have what, dear?”

Rory repeated the question.

“Oh, I guess it’s possible,” she said, struggling to focus on Rory. “I always hold on to important papers like that. My late husband, rest his soul, used to tease me about some of the things I keep in our safe.”

“You mean a bank vault?”

“No, no, it’s here in the house. I’ve never been comfortable leaving important papers in someone else’s keeping.”

“When you have a chance to look for the prints, would you give me a call?”

“No need. I’ll have Anna take a look right now. She knows where the safe is. She knows everything. I would trust her with my life. Listen to me.” Grace laughed. “I already do.”

She pressed a button on the intercom that was on the end table and asked Anna to bring her the shawl and the papers from the safe. Rory sipped some more of the iced tea while they waited.

When Anna arrived, she was holding a black cashmere stole and a large manila folder overflowing with papers. She set it all down next to Grace, who in turn handed the stole to Rory and then started sorting through the papers.

Rory placed the stole gently on her lap so as not to dislodge any potential evidence. She was dying to look at it more closely and in better light, but this was neither the time nor the place. Fifteen endless minutes later, the older woman triumphantly waved a yellowed piece of paper in the air.

“This is why I never throw out important documents,” she said, as if still trying to convince her doubting husband. She handed the paper to Rory. It was deeply creased, its edges frayed, but the prints themselves seemed to be in fine shape.

“There is one more thing I wanted to ask you, if you don’t mind,” Rory said.

Grace nodded, but Rory could see that her eyes had become dulled with fatigue. It was clear that their meeting had taken a toll on her.

“Do you know if there was anyone special in Gail’s life?” Rory asked. Even if Jeremy was quickly becoming a prime suspect, she had to make sure that she wasn’t overlooking anyone.

“As a matter of fact there was,” Grace said, sitting up a bit straighter. “She’d been dating a young man for a couple of months, somebody in real estate, or was it investment banking? Oh dear.” She shook her head. “I get things mixed up these days. Anyway, for the first time since her marriage blew up, she actually seemed happy again.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“No, but she’d been planning to invite him here for dinner. Then out of the blue, she tells me that she thinks he’s cheating on her. She’d overheard him on the phone, and she was sure he was making a date with another woman. Of course he denied it, but she didn’t believe him. After that fiasco of a husband, it was just too much for her. She paced around the room here, raging against him, talking about how she was going to catch him with her.”

“Did she catch him?” Rory asked. Whoever this guy was, no one she’d interviewed had ever mentioned him, including her brother with whom she was supposed to be so close. Aside from whatever details she chose to tell her mother, it appeared that Gail had kept her private life completely private.

“I’m afraid we’ll never know,” Grace said, her voice quavering. “That was the night she died.”

“Do you know where she was going to find him with this other woman?”

“She didn’t say, and to be honest, over the years I’d learned not to press her for more than she wanted to share.”

“Do you happen to remember the man’s name?”

“Of course I do . . . wait, let me see.” Her forehead furrowed with concentration. “You know, I had it right on the tip of my tongue not a second ago.” She looked up at Rory. “Getting old is no picnic. I can’t for the life of me understand why they call these the ‘golden years.’ Maybe they’ve just
forgotten
how tarnished they really are.” She giggled like a child, quite pleased with her little joke.

The nurse knocked on the open door. She had a pill bottle and a glass of water in her hands and an irritated expression on her face that made it clear Rory had overstayed her welcome.

“I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to speak to me,” Rory said as she rose. “But you probably should get some rest now.” She jotted her phone number on a pad of paper she kept in her purse, tore out the page and set it on the end table. “I’ll leave my number here in case you want to reach me.”

“I’ll call you as soon as that name pops into my head,” Grace said. “I know it’s rattling around up there somewhere.”

Z
eke wasn’t around when Rory arrived home. She went straight into the kitchen, which had the best lighting in the house, and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Then she carefully withdrew the cashmere stole from the bag Anna had placed it in and started examining it. She found a couple of blonde hairs that were likely to be Grace’s. Darker hair was harder to see against the dark fabric.

A few minutes later, she shouted a triumphant “yes!” when she found a hair that could very well be Gail’s. She was depositing it in a plastic evidence bag for safe-keeping when the lights flickered and Zeke appeared beside her.

“What are we celebratin’?” he asked.

Rory pulled off the latex gloves and held up the little bag. “Thanks to you, we may have proof that the hair on the wallpaper was Gail’s.”

Zeke grinned so broadly that his moustache nearly reached his sideburns. He winked out of sight and almost simultaneously popped up in one of the kitchen chairs. Then, as if he were too excited to stay in one place, he popped over to another chair, and then another, before he finally wound up standing with his back resting against the wall. Rory was getting a little dizzy watching him.

“So, what do we do next?” he asked, the remnants of his smile still twinkling in his eyes. “I guess we need us a set of her prints,” he answered himself before Rory could get a word out.

She picked up the prints that were on the table next to the stole. “Done.”

“Hot damn, now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

Rory quickly claimed a chair and sat down. If Zeke decided to play musical chairs again, she didn’t want to wind up with him in her lap.

“I’ll drop the hair and prints off for Reggie first thing tomorrow morning,” she said. “It shouldn’t take long for him to compare the prints to the ones he lifted off the wallpaper. If they’re not Gail’s, I’ll run them through the database and see if I can find a match.”

“Then at least we’d know who pulled off the damaged wallpaper,” Zeke said more calmly.

“I’m betting it’s the same person who killed Gail.”

“Could be. Could be. But you don’t want to go leapfroggin’ over the truth by skippin’ some steps along the way.”

“Mac used to say that.” Rory smiled, realizing that it was becoming easier to think about Mac without her heart aching.

“And just who do you think taught him that, darlin’?”

“I do remember thinking that was a strange thing for Mac to say. But then a lot of things have been making more sense now that I know about you.”

“We made a good team,” Zeke said with a touch of melancholy. But he shook it off and when he spoke again, his tone was lighter, “We’re not doin’ so bad either, you and me.”

Before Rory could comment, he vanished and reappeared in the chair next to her.

“You still haven’t told me how your meetin’ with Grace Logan went,” he said.

Rory summarized their conversation for him. “I was surprised at how candid she was about Jeremy’s problems and all. I’m definitely going to have a little talk with him as soon as possible.”

“Strangest damn case,” Zeke said, mulling over all she’d told him.

 

 

B
B was waiting outside the next morning when Rory drove up to the curb. He came around to her window, and she handed him an envelope with the hair dow, and she handed him an envelope with the hair and fingerprints. He told her that Reggie had already e-mailed the wallpaper prints to her office computer, in case she didn’t want to waste time while she waited for the other results.

As it happened, Rory didn’t have time to waste. She couldn’t recall ever being quite so busy at work before. She had only ten minutes to wolf down a slice of pizza for lunch. It seemed like half the population of Suffolk County had been robbed, assaulted or injured in a hit-and-run in the past eight hours. She didn’t have a chance to run the prints until the end of her shift.