New Year's Eve Murder (15 page)

“Don't be so quick to leave. It's a beautiful day. You could show your little son around the convent and drop in on the Villa. I know a few people who'd love to say hello.”

So we did. And when it came time to nurse him, I found a quiet, empty room and closed the door. After what Joseph had said, I was sure it wouldn't offend her, but I preferred not to find out whom it might upset.

Just before we left, Joseph found me and gave me back the envelope with the story. “It's hard to believe anyone published this,” she said. “I may not be a literary critic, but it strikes me as rather trashy.”

“I feel the same way.”

“But I think there's more to it than that. With hindsight,
I think D.D. was playing a little prank, signaling her plans. I wouldn't be surprised if there are useful clues in this story, especially in her lists of people, if you can decipher them.”

“I'll certainly try,” I said.

Joseph bent and planted a kiss on Eddie's cheek. “Have a safe drive home.”

There were several messages on the machine when we got back. Heather Williams and Jack had called, among other less important callers. I tried Jack first but he was out of the station house.

Eddie had awakened as the car came to a stop, and he was fussy. I gave him some water but it had a limited effect. I have to admit to being less than calm when my baby cried but I was pretty sure he wasn't hungry and I knew he was dry. I set him up in his baby seat and he watched me, crying intermittently while I called Heather.

“Chris,” she said above a background of similar baby noises, “thanks for calling back. I'm sorry I had to run the other day. Mom's been in pretty bad shape, as you can imagine.”

“Yes, I can.”

“I wanted to tell you something about D.D. I don't know if it's important but I'm sure Mom didn't tell you, because she wouldn't. D.D. was adopted.”

“Really,” I said.

“Yes. Mom and Dad had been married for a long time and they'd been trying to adopt for years because they couldn't have kids of their own. Eventually, their number came up and they got D.D.”

“Was she an infant?”

“I think so. There are slews of pictures of her all
wrapped up in baby blankets. They must have gone through a dozen rolls of film right after they got her.”

That would explain why Mrs. Butler seemed so much older than usual for the mother of someone in her early thirties. “I really appreciate your telling me this. Your parents must have been luckier the second time around. They got you just a year or two after D.D.”

“No, Mom gave birth to me.”

“I thought you said—”

“I did, but it was the old story. As soon as D.D. came into their lives, Mom became pregnant. It happens all the time but every time it does, it seems like a miracle. Mom just got pregnant and had me as if there'd never been a problem.”

“Amazing. You said the other day, D.D. was your best friend. Did you and D.D. always get along when you were growing up?”

“Sure. She was Big Sister and I was Little Sister. I looked up to her.”

“And she? Was there jealousy?”

“I don't think so. I think we were a pretty happy family.”

“What about your folks, Heather? Was there any preferential treatment because you were born into the family?”

“Chris, my mother is the most evenhanded, fair person I've ever met. That's why she'll never tell anyone that D.D. was adopted. As far as she's concerned, she has two daughters. That's it.”

“And your father?” I asked. She had been pretty specific that she was talking about her mother.

“Well, Dad's kind of a tough guy, and very old-fashioned in a lot of ways. He wanted both of us to go to school and get jobs and get married. D.D. worked for a while but she never stuck with anything for long. And
when she quit her last job, Dad really wasn't very happy. They argued about it.”

I was thinking about the dark story D.D. had written and her list of people she hated. But just because her father argued with her didn't mean he hated her or even disliked her. He wanted the best for his daughter. “Let me ask you something else. When D.D. was younger, did she ever have problems, you know, behavioral kinds of things?”

I could almost hear her trying to decide what to say. “Mom would never tell you,” she began. “But there were some things. A couple of her teachers thought that her writing showed she was disturbed about something. And there were a couple of incidents.”

“What kind of incidents?” I prompted.

“She did some very cruel things once to a girl she didn't like, a girl she thought was being nasty to her.”

“Was anything done to help D.D.?”

“You mean like counseling? Mom wouldn't hear of it. Mom had two perfect daughters and if one of them acted antisocial, then she must have been provoked.”

“But counseling was recommended?”

“I guess you could say so. Someone from the school called Mom. I only heard scraps of conversations so I really can't tell you much more.”

“Did D.D. ever try to locate her birth mother, Heather?”

“Never.” She said it absolutely. “I even asked her once if she'd thought about it. She said she hadn't. She said she didn't care. It was all the craze, she said, find your birth mother and catch up on the past. She wouldn't have any of it.”

“Thank you very much, Heather. This must be a very difficult time for all of you.”

“It is, but I want to find out who murdered my sister.”

“I'm doing my best,” I said.

Altogether it was a lot of new information. It gave me much more to think about: the secret troubles of a child, the relationships that form our lives and can make or break us. Did D.D. resent her adoptive father? I wondered, not for the first time, why he had not been around when I came to visit. Surely his wife had told him I was coming, that I had news about D.D. It was a Saturday, a day that many men spend around the house, but he hadn't been there.

Eddie was sounding very unhappy. I picked him up and started walking, patting his back. He quieted, two fingers going into his mouth. D.D.'s mother and father could surely have had different feelings about their daughter. That they had been ecstatic when they brought her home as an infant did not mean they both approved of her adult lifestyle. Father and daughter may well have had a rocky relationship. I wondered if it could have been bad enough to provoke murder.

I grabbed the envelope with D.D.'s short story and took it to the family room, where I sat with Eddie on my shoulder as I pulled the pages out of the envelope and started through the text. The hate list included no parents or sister; neither did the love list. I looked at the lists more carefully, trying to find a Teddy or a Harlow Sugar on them. The boyfriend she talked about murdering, but didn't, was named Todd. A play on Teddy? I didn't want to attribute too much to what was supposed to be fiction but it was certainly tempting.

I wanted to call Joseph and tell her my brand-new information but it was after five now and the nuns would be at evening prayers.

Eddie started crying again.

“You're a noisy one today, aren't you?” I said, standing up. “You get used to all that attention this afternoon?”

It didn't appear that he was listening to me, so I took him upstairs and got him ready for his bath.

When I'd finished eating I called Kevin Angstrom.

“Who?” he said, when I gave him my name.

“Jack Brooks's wife. We were at the Golds' on New Year's.”

“Yes, sorry. My life's been one upheaval after another since that day. I know who you are. Did you know Susan's come back?”

“I heard and I'm very glad. Have you seen her?”

“Not yet. Arnold Gold doesn't want her talking to anyone. She had to beg him to let her go to work.”

“Kevin, I've learned a number of things about the dead woman in the last couple of days. There was a connection between her and Susan, and I think there may have been a connection between her and you.”

“Believe me, I never met the woman, I never heard of the woman.”

“Bear with me, OK? I didn't mean you and she were friends. I just think there may have been something in common between you. Do you remember how you met Susan?”

“Yes. It was at an art gallery in New York, downtown, the SoHo area. Not a fancy place, just a loft where they do this kind of thing once in a while.”

“Whose paintings were on exhibit?” I asked, almost holding my breath.

“They weren't paintings. They were photographs. They were done by a young Chinese woman who got them out of China. They were very interesting.”

I let my breath out. That description didn't tally with anyone I knew. “Why were you there?”

“Uh, I'm not sure. I didn't know the photographer. I probably got a couple of tickets from the gallery. I'm on their mailing list.”

“Do you know why Susan was there?”

“She'd heard about the photographer. In fact, I think her magazine may have been interested in doing a piece on her.”

“I see.”

“Have I helped you?”

“To be honest, no,” I admitted. “Does that gallery send you tickets very often?”

“No, they don't. They usually just send a flyer. That may have been the only time they actually sent tickets.”

“I wonder why,” I said, not expecting an answer. “How long ago was that?”

“Last year sometime. I don't remember the exact date.”

I tried the only name I thought might work. “Do you know an artist named Teddy Toledo?”

“Teddy, yeah. I've met him. He had a show at that gallery, I don't remember when, but it was before the one where I met Susan.”

Pay dirt. “Were you friends? Have dinner together? Talk?”

“We talked. We may have had a drink at a place near the gallery once. We weren't what you would call friends.”

“Kevin, Teddy knew D.D. Butler, the woman who was murdered in that farmhouse.”

There was silence.

“He found the farmhouse for her. He lives up there himself, in a nearby town. He used to live in New York.”

“I'm astounded. He was just a guy.”

“Did you meet a woman with him?”

“It's possible. You get a crowd in those places, you can be introduced to a lot of people.”

“Susan thought D.D. might have been involved in her life. I think what you've just told me indicates she was right.”

“But why?”

“I don't know. Maybe it gave her some perverse pleasure to see people dance when she pulled the strings.”

“But Susan and I have a real relationship.”

“I know. There was nothing D.D. could do to make you fall in love—except put you together.”

“Maybe Teddy killed her,” he said.

“That's also possible. Kevin, I'm still trying to find my way through this. Can you tell me where Susan's father works?”

“Yes, he's an insurance broker, been one all his working life. His office is in an old building on Maiden Lane.” He gave the address and the number of the office. “I've been there a couple of times. If you're a history buff, you feel like you're stepping into the past. I think his wife suggested he move uptown but he's not a person who changes easily. He likes it there and it's easy to get to from Brooklyn.”

“Thanks, Kevin. I'll let you know if I learn anything more.”

Then I called Jill Brady.

“You know Susan's back,” she said.

“I heard. Has she been to work?”

“She came back, yes. She looks awful but she said she really wanted to work. And we're glad to have her. We're a small group and when one person is out, it hurts us all.”

“Do you have your car?”

“Yes, finally. The police took it to check for prints and
blood and I don't know what else. They kept it for days but they finally gave it back to me. I gather they took it all apart.”

“I wonder if they found anything,” I said.

“If they did, they didn't tell me.”

“Jill, were you and Susan hired about the same time?”

“We must have been. We started the same day.”

“How did you get your job?”

“I was working as an assistant to an editor at a big publishing house, and he got fired and they gave me a lot of menial things to do. So I started checking the ads in the Times and calling friends who had jobs at other places and I found this one advertised. So I wrote a letter and sent a résumé and got an interview and they hired me.”

“Just like that?” I said, impressed.

“It really was just like that. They called me to come back for a second interview, and when I walked in Jerry said I'd been hired. I can tell you I was very happy. I work harder here, but I get to do more things and that's what I wanted. If I were writing my résumé today, it would be full of the kinds of experience that appeal to people in magazine publishing. And the atmosphere here is great, very upbeat, nice people.” She spoke with spirit and sincerity.

“It sounds wonderful. Do you know if Susan got her job the same way you did?”

“You know, I think she didn't. I think she once told me there was something weird about how she got the interview.”

“Do you remember what she said?”

“It was like they called
her
for an interview.”

“Why would they do that?”

“It was something like someone at her old job suggesting they interview her, or someone sending her reAsumé. I can't remember exactly but she said they came
to her; she didn't go to them. But she got the job because of what she could do. It wasn't that anyone pulled strings or anything.” She seemed at pains to make sure I understood Susan hadn't been hired because an arm had been twisted.

“That is weird,” I agreed.

“Can I ask why you're interested in this?”

“I think it may have to do with the murder upstate.”

“How?”

“I'm not sure at the moment, but these little bits of information are starting to make a pattern. When it all comes together, I'll let you know about it.”

“I hope it happens soon. For Susan's sake.”

I hoped so, too.

By the time Jack came home with his exciting news, I had pretty much figured it out for myself.

“Got a couple of things,” he said. “The autopsy and the DNA. The DNA's very interesting.”

“D.D.'s?”

“And Susan's. When Susan turned up alive, they really didn't need to continue, but it had been set in motion and the lab guy called me today. He can't prove this, but there are some important similarities between Susan's and D.D.'s DNA. He's speculating on this, but he thinks they could almost be—”

“Sisters,” I said.

He looked at me. “They call here?”

“No one called. I sat and thought this evening and it came to me. Joseph, who sends you her best, by the way, said to look back at my notes from my meeting with the Donaldsons and to think about what they said. Mrs. Donaldson thought Susan was the person who rented the farmhouse. Fred didn't think so and she pooh-poohed his inability to look beyond a hairstyle. But it was more than
how they combed their hair. They looked quite similar, as though they might be sisters. And then I found something that Teddy Toledo said. He's an artist, so he looks at people in a special way. He said there were superficial similarities in the looks of the two women, but they were obviously different people. That's two separate individuals who thought there was a resemblance between the two women.”