Twisted Reason (21 page)

Eli picked up his coffee cup and took a gulp without lifting his eyes.

“Merciful heavens, Eli. You are a stubborn man. My mother warned me. God rest her soul.”

Eli couldn’t continue his self-imposed silence any longer. “Oh, God rest
your
mother’s soul but mine can just be burned to ashes and dumped into the ocean.”

“Don’t get hysterical, Eli. It was just an expression. But now that you are paying attention, I want to inform you of the dinner party Saturday night.”

“A dinner party?”

“Yes. Just a small one. I’ve invited three couples.”

“Three couples? Saturday night? Here?”

“I could add a fourth couple if there’s someone at work you want me to invite.”

“My mother’s funeral is on Friday.”

“Oh, good. Then it won’t interfere.”

“We can’t have a dinner party the day after my mother’s funeral.”

“Oh, don’t be old-fashioned, Eli. I haven’t been able to entertain in my home for months because of your mother’s behavior and then for even more time because she was missing and you didn’t feel up to it. And we have racked up a long list of social obligations as a result. We need to get started as soon as possible.”

Eli jerked to his feet and backed away from his wife. “You are evil. You did it, didn’t you?”

“What’s wrong with you? What are you talking about?”

“You killed my mother.”

Rachael rose to her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous, Eli. You are acting like a child.”

“Was I next, Rachael? Did you plan to kill me before or after the dinner party? Maybe over dessert?”

“I can’t believe you would dare to speak to me this way. Just get out. Get out of this house. I can’t bear the sight of you.”

“Fine. Just don’t expect me at your dinner party.”

“You’re no longer invited.”

“Fine,” Eli said, walking out of the kitchen and into the garage.

The drive to the office calmed Eli. Once at his desk, he called the director confirming that everything was in order for his mother’s funeral. He asked about the death certificate and autopsy report. The director referred him to the pathologist in Norfolk.

He reached in his pocket for his cell phone to make the long-distance call. It wasn’t there. He checked all of his pockets, his briefcase, and the top of his desk. He went down into the parking garage and searched in his car. Back in his office, he called home. His wife didn’t answer. He called her cell but got no response on that phone either.

He gave up and called the morgue using the office line. “The death certificate has been released,” he was told. “The cause of death was drowning. However, the autopsy report is not ready yet.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“For one, we are running toxicology tests – all the standard ones as well as analyzing for the presence of her prescription medications. Secondly, there are concerns about the water in her lungs. Preliminary results indicate that it was not the same as the water in the pond where her body was found.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“She died somewhere else, Mr. Kendlesohn. We are analyzing the water to attempt to learn where that happened.”

Rachael did it – I know she did it. Did she drown Mom in the tub? The pool? Where? That heartless bitch. I’ll make her tell me. I need to go home for my cell phone anyway. I’ll make her tell me now.

On the way home, he stopped at the ATM outside his bank to replenish his cash. He was irritated when the machine insisted that the account was closed. He parked the car, walked inside, filled out a withdrawal slip and stood at the white line waiting for the first available teller.

When he stepped up and handed over his slip, the clerk tapped into her computer and said, “I’m sorry, sir. But this account is closed.”

“Impossible.”

She checked again. “Yes, sir, Rachael Kendlesohn closed it this morning. She transferred the funds in this account over to another bank.”

“What about the savings account?”

“It’s not in your name, sir. Doesn’t appear it ever has been. I can’t withdraw any money from an account that does not have your name on it.”

He stared at her, struggling to maintain his composure. He knew it wasn’t her fault but he still had the irrational urge to yell at her. He exhaled deeply and said, “No, of course you can’t. This is not your problem, it’s mine.”

“I’m very sorry, sir.”

He nodded at her and spun on his heels and left the bank. Back in his car, he pounded a palm against the steering wheel. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn that bitch to Hell!”

He tore out of the parking lot, squealing his wheels as he turned onto the road. Pulling into the driveway of his home, he got out of the car, leaving the door wide open as he strode up the sidewalk. He slid his key in the lock but it wouldn’t turn. He pulled it out, looked at it and stuck it in again. He tried to force it but it still didn’t work.

He stomped back to his car, grabbed the garage door remote and punched in his code. Nothing. He threw the remote down on the passenger seat and went up to the keypad on the garage itself. He punched in the code again. Still nothing.

He was incredulous.
The bitch had been busy. Closing the bank account, changing the locks and the code.
He couldn’t help being impressed with her efficiency. He went back to the front door, pressed the door bell and held it in for thirty seconds without letting up. Then he pressed it a dozen times for short intervals. He banged on the door with both fists. “I know you’re in there, Rachael,” he shouted.

He walked around to the back, peering in windows on the way. He didn’t catch a glimpse of his wife and assumed she must be upstairs. He checked the French doors on the patio, the back door leading to the kitchen. Both were locked and his keys worked in neither one. He picked up a rock from the edge of a flower bed. Before he smashed it through a pane of glass, though, he became appalled by what he was about to do and set the rock carefully back in place.

He went back to his car and reached in his pocket for his cell. “Damn,” he said, remembering he didn’t have it. He drove out of the neighborhood and stopped at a service station where he made the call to Lieutenant Pierce from a pay phone.

Thirty-Two

Eli Kendlesohn agreed to meet the detectives at the Justice Center. Jumbo called and made arrangements for Eli to be brought up to the interview room when he arrived. He was waiting there when Lucinda and Jumbo walked into the police department.

Lucinda didn’t quite know what to think of this latest development. She didn’t like Rachael Kendlesohn; kind of liked the idea of cuffing her and hauling her into the station. But it just didn’t seem to fit with all they’d learned. And the man sitting across the table from her and Jumbo looked crazed. His hair stuck up in several directions as if he’d been trying to pull it out. His eyes had the glazed look she associated with someone who’d just been smoking pot. He fidgeted in his chair like a little boy afraid to ask the teacher to be excused to go down the hall.

“Mr. Kendlesohn, are you okay?” Lucinda asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just fine. My mother’s dead. Murdered. I have no money. I forgot my cell phone but can’t get into my house to get it. I’m homeless now, too, I guess. Except for my car. I could live in my car. And, oh yeah, my wife is a murderer.”

“What makes you think that your wife killed your mother?”

“Come on, Lieutenant. Isn’t that why you came to the house in the first place? You thought one of us killed Mom. Well, it wasn’t me. I didn’t want to believe it was that woman. But now I’m sure of it.”

“Why do you think your wife killed your mother?” Lucinda asked again.

“I had my suspicions last night when she complained about how much it would cost to bring my mother home for a funeral. But then this morning, I knew it.”

“What happened this morning?”

“She informed me about the dinner party. A dinner party! She’s planned a dinner party. Can you believe that? For Saturday evening. I’m getting ready to go to work and she drops a dinner party on me. When I objected, she said now my mother is finally gone, things can get back to normal. That’s when I knew it. She killed Mom so she could have a dinner party. I’ve put up with a lot from that woman over the years. But this time she’s gone too far. I want her arrested. And I told her so. I told her I knew what she did. She didn’t deny it.”

“How do you think she killed her, Mr. Kendlesohn?”

“Drowned her. Drowned her in the bathtub. Or maybe the pool.”

“And why do you think that?”

“How do you suppose the body got out to that pond in the country?”

“I thought about that. She had to have help. I can’t think of anyone we know socially who’d be willing to help her dispose of a body. I tried but I just can’t imagine that even of the worst of them. So, I figured she must have hired someone. The gardener maybe. Or the pool guy. Or maybe the woman who cleans the house knew somebody who could help her. Maybe she even hired somebody to do the killing so she wouldn’t have to get her hands dirty. Now that I think about it, it sounds like her. Never willing to do her own dirty work. Every mess she ever made was cleaned up by me or the housekeeper. She’s so above it all. She can still get a life sentence if she didn’t actually do it but hired someone to do it, can’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Kendlesohn. But we can’t charge her without any proof.”

“You can lock her up on suspicion, can’t you?”

“We could bring her in for questioning, sir. But we can’t arrest her based on the word of an estranged husband.”

“Well, get the proof and arrest her.”

“It’s not that easy, sir. In fact, all our evidence right now is pointing in another direction.”

“Well, I sure can’t get in the house and get the proof for you.”

Lucinda sighed. “Excuse us for a moment, Mr. Kendlesohn.” She turned to Jumbo and motioned to him to join her out in the hall.

“Listen,” she said, “we’ve got to get the poor guy into the house to get his stuff. But I don’t trust him not to flip out and start destroying things or taking his wife’s personal property. And I can’t trust her to behave either. You have the best rapport with her . . .”

“Say no more. I’ll get a patrolman to drive me and Mr. Kendlesohn over to the house. I’ll sit with her while the officer keeps an eye on him.”

“That sounds like a plan – a good plan. Now, I’ve got to get back to work on the serious leads.”

Lucinda went into her office and opened her email. She scanned the list of senders and started opening anything from a staff member in the research department. They’d come up empty on the search for any property owned by Gary Blankenship or any of his children. And none of them had any addresses except for the row house she’d searched and a post-office box where the mail had been forwarded. She thought about getting a patrol officer to stake out the box but that could eat up a lot of man hours without getting any results. She decided to save that as a last resort.

There was a BOLO out on the white van, another on the old Nissan – using the same tag numbers in case the family was switching them back and forth between vehicles – and one for each of the Blankenships. She’d decided to circulate the old missing persons report for Sadie Blankenship to make the DA happy even though she was certain she saw the scene of her murder at the row house.

She called down to Research. “I know I’ve been piling it on you guys for that last couple of days but I need your help again.”

“No problem, Lieutenant. Whatcha need?”

“I need a list of any white cargo vans reported stolen in the last eighteen months and please filter out any that have been recovered.”

“You are a lucky woman. About a dozen years ago, none of the vehicle registrations listed the color. The only ones that don’t now are old cars that haven’t been sold since the law changed. Still might be a long list – pretty common business vehicle. What else do you need?”

“I’m going to email you an ancient missing persons report. I need a list of all the unidentified bodies in the country that could possibly be a match for her. The last time she was seen was about twenty years and three months ago. Her husband told the detective that she ran off with another man. I think she was murdered and her body dumped nearby, so first check locally for any Jane Does that date back that far and then spread out the search because I could be wrong. Get back to me with the local results as soon as you have them.”

“Will do. Now knowing your penchant for starting with the easiest task first and escalating as we go along, I’m almost afraid to ask you what else you need.”

“Sorry. I know I’m asking a lot. But this last request, I’m not even sure you can do it. I’d like to have a list of everyone who lived on the block where she lived before she disappeared.”

“We can do it. It will take time. It’s not on the computer but we can dig through the paper archives. Actually, this is easier than your second request – you’re slipping, Lieutenant,” she said with a laugh.

“But I need one more thing about those neighbors: the most recent phone numbers and addresses. Can you dig that up, too?”