The Burnt Orange Sunrise (21 page)

“Quite well. It’s based on her original work, so they had to pay her a decent sum.”

“Are we talking six figures?”

“I’d imagine so, plus a percentage of the profits. Plus they’re reissuing
the original. There’s a book of her photos coming out, too. There’s no question that Ada was looking at a lot of new income. I can’t tell you how much because I genuinely don’t know. But Ada did raise the subject with us the very first night she got here. She’d already been in contact with Bruce Nadel about it.”

“And Bruce Nadel is…?”

“The fellow in New York who handled her legal affairs. He’s on West Fifty-sixth Street. His father, Bert, was Ada’s lawyer before him. She wanted us to know that she was leaving her entire estate to the American Civil Liberties Union. She claimed that the ACLU needed the money because our government was no longer protecting the rights of individuals, only those of corporations. Her words, not mine.”

“How was Norma with this news?”

“Fine. She certainly wasn’t surprised.”

“And Aaron, how was he?”

“Predictably furious. Not because she was giving it away, but because she was giving it to a gang of failed paleo-socialists. His words, not mine. My own view was that it was her money and she could do as she wished with it.”

“You weren’t worried?”

Les frowned at her. “What about?”

“Keeping this place afloat.”

“When you run a big place like Astrid’s, you never come out ahead,” he answered carefully. “Your profits, assuming you have any, get plowed right back into the business. Something always needs repairing or replacing. It’s a lot like running a farm, in that sense. But we’ve been keeping our heads above water. We do okay.”

“I know that Aaron comes into the castle now that Norma is gone,” Des stated. “As her executor, you’re in a position to know if she provided for anyone else, am I right?”

“You are. And she did. She made provisions in her will for several others.”

“Such as who?”

“Well, there’s Teddy. And the kids, Jory and Jase.”

“You didn’t mention that to Aaron this morning.”

“I know I didn’t. It’s none of his damned business.”

“May I ask you how much money we’re talking about?”

“Actually, I don’t think you have a right to ask me that. The terms of Norma ’s will are confidential until it’s been filed with the Court of Probate.”

“I have every right to ask. Just as you have every right to not answer. You’re not obligated to, but if you want to help me …”

“I do want to help. Really, I do.” Les fell silent a moment, making up his mind. “Strictly between us, Norma left fifty thousand apiece to Jory and Jase. Seed money, so they can start up a small business or buy a home or whatever. She wanted them to be provided for.”

“Are the two of them aware of this?”

“Norma asked me to keep it between us. She may have told them. I didn’t.”

“And Teddy?”

“The same amount, fifty thousand. The poor guy is always scuffing. She took pity on him. Norma had a soft heart. Too soft, if you ask me.”

“And what did she leave you?”

Les coughed uneasily. “She’d earmarked the money from Paul’s life insurance policy for me. She’d never touched it. It amounted to two hundred thousand.”

“A man can do a lot with that kind of money. What are your plans?”

“My plans?”
he shot back incredulously. “I’m just trying to figure out how to get through this day. My entire life is in ruins.”

“Believe me, I understand.” Des counted to three, then squeezed a little harder. “How’s your personal debt situation, Les? Do you owe anyone a lot of money?”

Les didn’t respond. Just clenched his jaw muscles.

“If you do, I’ll find out. You may as well tell me now.”

“Tell you
what?
This is outrageous! First you drag me in here in front of my poor dead wife. Now you so much as accuse me of lying to you. How dare you? What do you think you are doing?”

“My job. I have to ask pretty harsh questions sometimes.”

“I noticed.”

“Les, you’ve been married before, am I right?”

“Twice,” he answered coldly. “And in answer to what is no doubt your next harsh question:
Yes
, I do still pay alimony and child support to my second wife, Janice, thereby leaving me penniless. I don’t even own the car I drive. The castle leases it for me.”

“How were you and Norma getting along?”

“We were happy together. I told you that this morning.”

“True enough,” she acknowledged. “But you didn’t tell me that you’re involved with another woman. Who is she, Les?”

Again, he fell silent. But this was not an angry silence. This was the last of his manly resolve leaking slowly out of him, like the air out of a worn-out radial tire. She could practically hear the hiss. And the physical change in the man was really quite startling. His skeletal structure seemed to give way from within, leaving behind only a limp, quivering meat sack. “You actually think I
filled
Norma, don’t you?” he said to her forlornly. “Well, I didn’t. And shame on you for even thinking it. Maybe I wasn’t altogether happy, but so what? Most of us aren’t altogether happy. That doesn’t make us killers. It just makes us
normal.”

As Des studied Les’s sagging self there at the window, it occurred to her that he had not denied having a girlfriend. In fact, he had managed to avoid the question entirely. All of which translated to this: She could easily like him for plotting to kill Norma, and then killing Ada because she’d somehow stumbled upon what he’d done. Des could like him a lot. After all, $200,000 could buy a lot of happiness. And yet she also could not help shaking the nagging feeling that Les had been much better off with Norma alive than dead.

Her cell phone squawked now.

She thanked Les and asked him to return to his room. He did not pause on his way out to take one last look at Norma. Just oozed on out the door, shutting it softly behind him. He had not been able to look at her the whole time he was in there.

“Resident Trooper Mitry,” she said into her phone.

“Yo, Master Sergeant,” a voice exclaimed in her ear, the connection
crackly but plenty audible. “I understand you’ve got yourself a situation.”

“You understand right, wow man,” Des responded, smiling. The voice belonged to Lieutenant Rico “Soave” Tedone, the stumpy young bodybuilder who had been her sergeant back when she was a lieutenant on the Major Crime Squad.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you’re glad to hear my voice.”

“Ultra-glad, Rico,” she said. Which, for a time, had not been true. They’d had their difficulties. But Soave had grown up a lot since then. They both had. “Is this your case?”

“Just got the call,” he confirmed. “Not that I can
get
to the damned case. What have you got for me, Des?”

“Two dead, Rico. A mother and daughter. One’s a strangulation, the other’s an I-don’t-know-what. But she was helped along, I’m sure of it.” Des walked him though the details, keeping her comments brief and precise. “I’ve got the situation under control. Witnesses are separated. I’m in the process of taking their statements now.”

“And maybe doing a little bit more, if I know you.”

“For backup, I’ve got Mitch.”

“Who, Berger?
He’s
up there?”

“He is,” she replied, knowing what this was all about. Soave was a happily married man these days—he and his high school sweetheart, Tawny, had finally tied the knot on their epic nine-year courtship. But he had been extremely warm for Des’s bootylicious form when they were teamed together, had gotten nowhere, and still could not believe that she had fallen for Mitch.

“And how’s that going?” he wondered.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I’ve heard you sound happier in your day.”

“Rico, I’ve just lost two people I liked. I’m stranded, I’m cold, I could use a hot bath. What’s your situation? Where are you?”

“Trapped in fuzzy pink hell, that’s where.”

“Um, okay, you’ll have to translate that.”

“I’m home,” he said heavily. Home being the vinyl-sided raised
ranch in Glastonbury that he and Tawny had just bought. Her parents lived right around the corner.

“And this is bad because …?”

“Tawny was having a baby shower here last night for her cousin Ashley.”

“Little Ashley or big Ashley?”

“Big Ashley. Little Ashley wouldn’t come. They don’t speak. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, I’m talking horror show, okay? Tawny’s three sisters, her eight cousins, another dozen friends. And about nine o’clock, when they’re
deep
into the banana daiquiris, this giant tree comes crashing down at the end of the cul-de-sac, okay? Street’s totally blocked off. No power, no heat…”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with this phenomenon.”

“A few of ’em live close by, thank God. The rest had to bunk here for the night. They’re still here, Des. It’s like one giant slumber party out there. You’ve never heard so much giggling and screaming in your life.”

“I have, too, Rico. I started out life as a girl, remember?”

“I’m hiding here in my weight room and praying for a break in the weather.”

“How about Yolie?” Yolie being Sergeant Yolanda Snipes, his half-black, half-Cuban partner.

“She’s at her apartment in Meriden, chewing on her hands and feet. That girl
hates
being on the sideline. We’re both raring to go. Soon as the plow comes through, she’ll pick me up at the end of my block in her Blazer. Route nine is supposed to be okay. Way slow, but we’ll get there. I just can’t promise when. We may be talking two, three hours.”

“Rico, you may want to rethink this plan.”

“Why?”

“For starters, because you’ll end up flipped over in a ditch somewhere.”

“No way. Yolie’s a sweet wheelman.”

“And even if you do get here, the private drive up to the castle is blocked off. You’ll have to hike three miles up a mountain, climb
your way over dozens of downed trees. You’re looking at another hour on foot, easy.”

“Well, hell, that’s no good,” he admitted. “Time out, are you thinking what I’m thinking? Of course you are—SP-One, right?”

“Any chance we rate a fly-in?”

“Are you kidding me? The state police spent millions on that damned chopper. They’ll be thrilled to have any excuse to use it. Only, it’s grounded in this weather.”

“True, but if the snow and wind taper off in the next hour or two, you’ll still get here faster and safer than you will by car. What is it, a twenty-minute flight from headquarters?”

“Give or take. Is there a place to land up there?”

“A great big beautiful parking lot.”

“Excellent. I am on this, Des. I’ll find out what they need in terms of weather. But you got to give me something else to do, because I am going crazy here. Is there anyone I can call?”

“There is, Rico. See if you can track down a New Haven cardiologist named Lavin, first name Mark. He was treating Norma Josephson. Find out how serious her heart condition was. And see what you can learn about this digoxin he had her taking. As in what would happen to her if her dosage were dramatically altered without her knowledge. Or with her knowledge, for that matter.”

“You saying suicide is a possibility?”

“Rico, it’s all in play right now.”

“You think the digoxin is what did her in?”

“Call it my best guess, until an autopsy proves otherwise. The only hitch is that her pill intake seems to be right on schedule.”

“Maybe someone got a hold of some extra pills. Where did she fill her prescription?”

“Locally, Dorset Pharmacy. It’s a one-man operation. Pharmacist’s name is Tom Maynard. I doubt he’ll be open, but you may be able to reach him by phone. If you do, find out if anything irregular has been going on lately with Norma’s prescriptions.”

“Des, you know we can’t access her medical records without a search warrant. And I can’t exactly get to no judge right now.”

“I hear you, but this is a small town, Rico. Everybody knows everybody. He might remember something and volunteer it. It’s worth a try.”

“Consider it done. And I’ll call Connecticut Light and Power’s war room. Let ’em know you have a police emergency up there. Maybe we can get you bumped up to a higher priority. I’ll call you back in a few. Hey, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“About what, Rico?”

“Having the situation under control.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You said it yourself—you started out life as a girl. Girls consider it a sign of weakness to ask anyone for help. Guys, we don’t have that problem. We need a hand, we say so right up front, on account of how we’re more secure about ourselves.”

“Wait, could you talk just a little bit slower? I want to make sure I write all of this down.”

“Go ahead and laugh. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Rico, I’m fine.”

She flicked off her phone and went back out into the hall, where Mitch glanced up at her alertly from his post. “All quiet?” she asked him.

“It’s so quiet I can hear the mice in the walls,” he replied, beaming at her.

“Gee, thanks large for sharing that with me, baby.”

“I share. That’s what I do.”

Hannah was in room four, next door to Teddy. She’d double-locked her door from the inside. Des had to wait for her to get up and let her in. After she had, Hannah burrowed back under the quilt on her bed, looking pale, cold and frightened. The large-format paperback she was clutching,
Hollywood Dreams
, was a collection of Ada Geiger’s screenplays, with an introduction by one Mitchell Berger.

“I’m still trying to figure that old woman out,” Hannah confessed, gazing down at it through her round glasses. “There was just such a difference between her work and
her.
I mean, her movies were so forgiving of human weakness. And Ada herself was just so
not?

“She was young when she made those movies. Not much older than you and I are now.”

“True,” Hannah acknowledged. “But she just seemed so intolerant.”

“She was ninety-four. Her time was running short, and she didn’t want to waste any of it on people who weren’t worth the bother. Older people get impatient that way. I’ve encountered it before.” Des sat in the chair by the fireplace, stuffing her hands deep into her coat pockets. “Did you leave this room for any reason last night?”