Shaded Light: The Case of the Tactless Trophy Wife: A Paul Manziuk and Jacquie Ryan Mystery (The Manziuk and Ryan Mysteries Book 1) (42 page)

There was a knock at the door and Manziuk opened it to Kendall Brodie. “Nick and I were hoping to leave soon,” he said. “Do you need to see me?”

“Just a couple of questions, Mr. Brodie.”

“Good. I promised Lorry we’d drop her off on our way home. That okay with you?”

“Fine. Can you tell me where you were after midnight last night?”

“Sound asleep. Well, it might have been twelve-thirty when I got to sleep. We came upstairs about midnight.”

“You didn’t leave the room?”

“No. I was tired. I clicked out like a lightbulb.”

“Can you testify that Nick was also in the room?”

“Well, we came up together, and we both went to bed. I assume he went to sleep. But I suppose I can’t swear that he was. I mean, I was really out. But I’m sure I’d have awakened if he opened the door. I’d have heard that.”

“Thanks. If you think of anything else that might help us, here’s my card.” Manziuk held it out and Kendall absently put it into his shirt pocket.

As Kendall started towards the door, Manziuk casually asked, “Oh, by the way, Jillian Martin wasn’t by any chance blackmailing you, was she?”

Kendall stopped and stared. “What?”

Manziuk repeated the question.

“Are you crazy? First of all, I didn’t even know her before this weekend, and second, what do you mean, blackmail? Are you telling me Jillian was blackmailing somebody?” His voice went from puzzled to angry. “Or do you think I have something in my life I could be blackmailed over? Just exactly what are you trying to imply?”

“Oh, it’s just a little thought of mine. Nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t think you should go around slandering people, even if you are a cop! Does Peter know what kind of things you’re saying?”

“Sorry. That’s classified,” Manziuk said with an enigmatic smile. “You’re going back to your apartment?”

“That’s right. But I still—”

“I may drop in some time.”

“That would be an honor,” Kendall said. His voice was only slightly ironic. He stood. “I suggest you watch what you say about people in future.” After a quick wave to Ryan, he left the room.

“Well, that’s the lot.” Manziuk’s voice was tired.

Ryan said, “Looks like Nick Donovan, doesn’t it? Kendall let out that Nick could have left the room without his knowledge, and then he tried to cover his tracks, but it didn’t work. What if Jillian was never interested in Nick romantically? Since she knew him four years ago, she may well have had something on him. Maybe she was trying to blackmail him, too.”

Manziuk looked at her in surprise. “Good thinking,” he said. “All right, I need the search list from yesterday. Find out what size shoes Nick wears and whether he had a black shirt and pants.”

“Black?”

“Just a hunch.”

“We don’t have the completed list yet. Ford wasn’t finished when he was called here this morning.”

“Okay, we’ll just have to wait until we get all the facts. Mean-while, put a tail on Nick. He’ll be driving back to the apartment with Kendall. Make sure there are enough bodies to cover him.”

A few minutes earlier, Peter had found Shauna sitting in the upstairs alcove drawing on a small pad. “I’m ready to go. Are you packed?”

“I’m not going.”

“What do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I won’t go back and no one can make me.”

He took a few steps in a half circle, then stopped. “Work with me on this, Shauna.”

“What?”

“You came here with me and you’re going back with me. Your parents and sisters are at the apartment right now. We have to go meet them.”

She continued making marks on the paper. “I don’t want to.”

Exasperated, he grabbed her sketch pad. “Look at me!”

“Don’t!”

“I’m trying to talk to you!”

“I don’t want to! You can’t make me!” Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

“Shauna, I don’t understand. I know you’re upset because of what’s happened, but what do you want me to do?”

She stood up and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Don’t make me go back there. Please, don’t make me!”

“To the apartment?” His voice was clearly bewildered.

“No! Back home!”

“Home?” He shook his head, completely lost. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

She was still crying, but quietly. “I want to go to art school this fall. It may be my only chance.”

“Art school?”

She nodded mutely.

It dawned on Peter that the object he was holding was a sketch pad. He held it up and looked at the page on which she had been drawing. His eyebrows raised. “You drew this?”

She nodded, her eyes desperately watching him, teeth biting her bottom lip.

He gave her an intent look; then glanced back at the drawing. “This is good,” he said. “Really good.”

“I’ve wanted to go for as long as I can remember. They’ll never let me. If I go back, I’ll never escape.”

Peter leafed through the sketch pad. Page after page was covered with exquisite pencil drawings of dwarves, elves, fairies, dryads, centaurs, trees that breathed life, sea people, and a myriad of other imaginary yet appealing creatures. All drawn by Shauna. The realization acted like a sudden punch to his solar plexus. What a fool he was! Seeing only a gawky woman in horn-rimmed glasses and completely missing the delightfully gifted individual inside.

“Don’t worry, Shauna,” he said to her, his voice husky with emotion. “You’ll go to art school. I’ll see to it myself. And you won’t have to go back home. I won’t let them take you. You can stay at my apartment until we can make arrangements. We’ll get you into the best art school there is. I promise.”

It was her turn to look intently into his eyes. “You’re not just saying that so I’ll go back with you?”

“You have my word. But first, you’ll have to help me. All of Jillian’s things—someone has to pack them up. And the funeral. There’ll have to be one as soon as the police release the body. Will you help me get through that? Then, I promise you, as soon as your family goes back home, we’ll start work on that art school.”

She nodded and ran to her room to throw her clothes into the shopping bag Lorry had found for her.

Lorry Preston was in the bedroom putting the last of her clothes into her suitcase.

“I guess I’m going,” Shauna announced.

“With Peter?”

“Yes. He said he’ll help me go to art school.”

“Shauna, that’s wonderful!”

“He says I never have to go back home again.”

“That’s great.”

“But I will have to go there some time. I have drawings hidden away. I’ll have to go and get them. But not alone. I was wondering if you’d go with me? In a few weeks, maybe?”

“Of course I will.”

“I have your number. You’re sure you don’t mind if I call you?”

“I want you to call.”

Impulsively, Shauna walked forward and gave Lorry a quick hug. “I sure wish I’d had a sister like you,” she said.

Then she threw the rest of her clothes and toiletries into the shopping bag and ran out.

Lorry finished packing and sat down on the edge of her bed. Every bone in her body felt as though it was made of iron. She realized that the shock of the murders topped by the strain of trying to support Shauna had exhausted her more than she’d realized.

She felt guilty, but nevertheless she couldn’t wait to get out of this house. It would be difficult to ever come back.

There was a soft tap on her door.

“Who is it?”

“Nick. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She hesitated, but then got up and opened the door. “Is Kendall nearly ready?”

“He’ll be a couple of minutes. Look, I just wanted a moment to talk to you alone. This has been a heck of a weekend.”

She stepped aside and he walked into the room and stood looking at her. At last, she said, “You wanted to talk?”

“I’m sorry. My usually ready tongue is on holiday, I guess. Maybe being the chief suspect in a murder investigation has done something to me.”

“Are you?”

“Looks like it. Not that I did it. But there’s a threatening note that looks like it came from me. Now they want the clothes I was wearing. If they match fibers, I’m in big trouble.”

There was a long silence.

“Could they match fibers?” Lorry asked.

Nick looked steadily into her eyes. “You really think I could have done it?”

Her look was just as steady. “I don’t know.”

“You really think I could have done it?”

“I’ve only known you since Friday. How could I know what you might do?”

He walked over to the window. His voice was low, tinged with bitterness. “I thought you… at least…”

“Oh, Nick, this isn’t a movie. This is real.”

He faced her. “What are you talking about?” he asked impatiently.

“In the movies, when everyone thinks some man did it, there’s always a woman who says she knows he couldn’t have done it. And she never has any reason for believing he’s innocent other than that ‘she saw it in his eyes’ or ‘she just knew’ or something like that.”

“Is that so impossible?”

“Yes.”

Neither spoke for a long time. Nick turned to look out the window again.

“Nick, I wish I could say that I can’t believe you could ever murder another person, but I would be lying.”

He spun to face her. She could see the anger in his eyes and his clenched fists. “Well, you’d better get out of here then. Don’t you think you’re being a little too brave, being alone in a room with a murderer?”

“Oh. Nick, I didn’t say I wanted you to be the one! Or even that I thought you were. Just that I don’t know you well enough to know. Does anyone ever know another person that well?”

“Well, if it’s not me, it could be a relative of yours, couldn’t it? So I guess it better be me.”

“Not necessarily. There’s Hildy, or Shauna, or—Oh, don’t you see, Nick, it could be anyone! Any person here, including myself, is capable of murdering another person. Anyone here.”

“Oh, come on! Ellen? Anne? Shauna? They couldn’t. You couldn’t, either.”

“How do you know?”

“I know, that’s all. Instinct.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong. For different reasons, perhaps. But anyone could kill another person if the reason was right.”

“Self-defense, maybe. But not cold-blooded murder.”

“Every person could, Nick. Not just some people. Every one. I don’t know what could drive each of us to murder, but something could.”

“Thanks.”

Lorry’s exhaustion overwhelmed her. Not knowing what else to do, she picked up her suitcase and started for the door.

But Nick moved quickly and reached it first. He was a foot in front of her. She stopped and looked up into his face. With a sudden shock, she realized that he was under a great deal of strain. His eyes were dull and the muscles around his mouth sagged. Without realizing what she was doing, she put her free hand out.

Nick grasped her hand in both of his. “Lorry, do you have any idea what this weekend has been like for me? First, I feel really bad because I’m disappointing my best friend by turning down a job offer he went out of his way to get me—one anyone in his right mind would kill for. Then, as soon as I get here, who do I see but a girl I once asked to marry me and who turned me down so hard I decided I’d never allow myself to be vulnerable with any woman again. Right after that, I meet you and all the barriers I’ve put up against women go flying in all directions. It’s as if all my life I’ve been stumbling around in the dark and now the sun has come out and I can see what’s possible. And then I realize you are definitely not likely to be attracted to me, and what happens? I want you even more!

“And now I’m likely the prime suspect in two murders. And if it wasn’t me, who was it? Somebody else who was here. Maybe even somebody I care about. And I don’t know if I want them to find the real murderer or not. And now you’re leaving and I don’t even know if I’ll see you again, and—I feel lost. Like I’m in the middle of a maze and I don’t have the foggiest idea how to find my way out.”