The Old Deep and Dark (33 page)

“Was I right? Did he go to your father's house?”

Jane had known, from the moment Archibald had stepped outside dressed all in black, that Cordelia's theory was a home run. “You were right.”

“How on earth could I have enjoyed having dinner with a serial killer?”

“Are you all set on your end? Is Tommy sober?”

“Seems to be. I didn't do a Breathalyzer.”

“Good luck.”

“We'll both need it. Out.”

Jane left her car feeling a welcome hit of adrenaline. One of Nolan's tutorials had covered lock picking. If she did say so herself, over the last couple of years, she'd gotten pretty good at it.

After snapping on her latex gloves, she examined the lock on the back door and saw that it was old, an easy in. She couldn't believe people protected their homes with such crappy locks. It was denial, really. And that denial, tonight, worked in her favor.

*   *   *

“Close your eyes,” said Cordelia, feeling the earth drop away under her feet as she and Archibald sped upward in the elevator.

“This isn't going to hurt, is it?” asked Archibald, making what he thought was a joke.

Little did he know, thought Cordelia. “Are those eyes closed?” The doors opened on the upstairs theater lobby.

“I know where we are.”

“Are you ready to be awed?”

“Always.”

She passed her arm through his, revolted that she had to stand so close to him, and led him up the center aisle toward the stage. Halfway to the front, she stopped. “You can open up now and behold.” She spread her arms toward the new theater curtain. “Isn't it breathtaking?”

Archibald seemed genuinely impressed. “What a perfect color. You have astonishing taste.”

“I do. You're the first person, other than the workmen, to see it hanging there in all its perfect blue glory. Just think how many productions will begin with that curtain going up.”

“It sends chills through me. It really does.”

“Want to see it raised?”

“Yes,” he said eagerly.

Cordelia motioned to the tech booth. “Let 'er rip.”

The curtain moved slowly, pulled by wires one foot apart, to form an arch over the stage.

“Gorgeous,” said Archibald, clapping his hands together. “Absolutely glorious.”

“A new piece of history is about to begin for the Old Deep and Dark.”

“Honestly, I can't wait.”

As the lights in the auditorium dimmed, lights came up on the stage.

“Are you already in rehearsals?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

Four chairs faced the back of the stage. One chair, ringed by a spotlight, faced the audience.

“A rehearsal of sorts,” said Cordelia, feeling a different kind of chill run through her. She moved away from Archibald as Tommy rushed toward him from the rear of the auditorium. Archibald didn't turn around until it was too late. Tommy pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed his hands. It all happened so fast that Archibald hadn't even struggled. In fact, he seemed to think it was all part of Cordelia's show.

“What now?” he said laughing. “A little S and M.”

“Let's go up onstage and find out,” she said.

Seemingly annoyed by Tommy's presence, Archibald whispered to Cordelia, as if Tommy wasn't right behind them, “I don't know why
he
has to be here. It spoils the moment.”

“All will be revealed,” said Cordelia. She strode out onto the stage, momentarily dazzled by the lights. Motioning to the single chair, she nodded for Archibald to sit.

In the spirit of fun, he sat down.

“Archibald Van Arnam, this is your life!” She was improvising. He was old enough to understand the reference to the long-ago TV show. And in a way, it was true.

From stage right, Kit and Beverly walked out and each took a chair facing Archibald. Tommy took the third chair. Cordelia the fourth.

Showtime.

*   *   *

Jane paused in Archibald's study to phone her father. “It's me.”

“What's the word?”

“Our theory was correct. Are you with DePetro?”

“Yes.”

“He's got the search warrant from your friendly judge?”

“He does.”

“And you've briefed him?”

“I have.”

“Okay, just listen. I'm in Archibald's house. If it takes DePetro and his men more than five minutes to find the gun—and it is the murder weapon we've been looking for—then Minnetonka needs a new police force. I'm out of here.” She clicked off the phone, took one last look at Archibald's briefcase, made sure she hadn't left anything out of order or any trace that she'd been inside, and then hightailed it through the back door.

*   *   *

Archibald wasn't smiling anymore. “What's going on?” he demanded. Glancing up at the spotlight, he squirmed in his seat. “Enough, okay? Tommy, you can take the cuffs off now. I am not amused.”

“Never expected you would be,” said Tommy.

“Cordelia? Is this some sort of game?”

“I think I'll let Kit take it from here.” She couldn't believe they'd gotten this far without their plans going up in flames.

Standing, Kit stepped a few paces away from her chair, glancing down as if she were searching for her blocking. She, too, took a moment to look up at the spotlights, though the light on her was less intense than the hot white glare Archibald was bathed in. “I really only have one question. Why did you murder Jordan?”

His features contorted ever so briefly, then composed. “I would never hurt Jordan. He was my friend. And frankly, I think I've more than proved my devotion to you over the years. I don't deserve to be treated like this.”

“Please, I truly need you to make me understand.”

“If you had any evidence against me, I wouldn't be talking to you and your band of sycophants, I'd be talking to DePetro.”

“If it were up to me,” Beverly piped up, “I'd shove his chair—accidentally, of course—off the stage into the orchestra pit.”

“I've had enough of this,” said Archibald, struggling to his feet.

“Sit
down,
” shouted Tommy, standing with his fists clenched. “You're not going anywhere.”

He sat down hard.

This was great theater, thought Cordelia. If it hadn't been a matter of life and death, and if something couldn't still go wrong, she'd really be enjoying herself.

“What's the point of this little drama?” demanded Archibald. “Even if I admit I murdered every last one of those people, it wouldn't be admissible in court.”

“Just answer my question and we can be done with this,” pleaded Kit.

He studied her.

“Archibald, please.”

“I get it. You want me to admit to murdering Jordan, but you don't want me to tell the entire story. You want the punch line without the joke.”

“This isn't getting us anywhere,” said Kit, turning to Cordelia. “I think we should call it a night and go home.”

“For instance, why don't we discuss Eddy Chapman? We all know who he was. Why did he need to disappear, Kit? Did you ever ask yourself that?”

She turned around to face him. “If you ever loved me—”

Cordelia couldn't believe he'd given in so easily. Then again, he was partly right. Without proof, none of this could be used against him. Still, people with secrets were
always
dying to tell them. In this moment of revelation, with little at stake, he actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

“You were pregnant,” he said. “Chapman was the father.”

“That's a lie,” screamed Kit.

“Let's put it all out there for this eminent kangaroo court to consider. Cordelia, as head kangaroo, you can make the final judgment about guilt or innocence. I place myself in your hands.” He cleared his throat. “Why don't we start at the beginning, when Kit and Jordan made their fateful bargain. He would marry her to help him hide the fact that he was a homosexual, and in return, he would make her bastard baby girl legitimate. Believe me, it wouldn't have happened if Eddy had stayed in the picture. He was a small-minded, nasty little man. He would have blown Kit and Jordan's story out of the water just because he could. That is, if I hadn't stepped in. He was a womanizer, too, in case you didn't know that, Kit. You think he was faithful to you before he shuffled off this mortal coil? He was trying to bed every woman who didn't run away fast enough.”

“None of this is true,” said Kit. “He's making up a story just to hurt me.”

“You think Jordan didn't confide in me? How many years were we friends? You think I don't know it all?”

“Listen,” pleaded Kit. “If he's admitted to one murder, he's admitted to them all. Let's stop right here. We have what we came for.”

“What about Melcer?” asked Archibald. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. Without a free hand, he couldn't wipe them away. “Jordan came to me. Told me Melcer had taken nude photos of you during one of your trysts. My God, woman, but you can be stupid. I tried to pay Melcer for the negatives, with Jordan's money, of course, but he wouldn't take it. He needed leverage because he wanted you back. You know, Kit, quite honestly, I felt sorry for him. How do you do it? How do you make men think you're some sort of goddess?”

“I'm not a goddess,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Tell me about it. And yet, even now, I still want you. If there was a way out of this maelstrom, a way to be with you, I'd take it and never look back.”

“Archibald,” she said softly, pleadingly.

“And Decca? You were the one who put me on to her. She was sniffing out the truth about Jordan. She would have gotten there, too. She was clever, and dogged. Didn't you ever wonder what happened to these people?”

“Eddy … he left town. Couldn't face his wife. That's what I thought. And Stan? I didn't know he was blackmailing Jordan. You're right, I am a fool. I've always been a fool. When he disappeared, I thought he'd taken off because his business was failing. And Decca. When she evaporated, I simply turned away and thanked my lucky stars.”

“You should have thanked
me,
Kit. You still don't get it, do you? Everything I've done was to protect you.”

“Oh, no. No, no. You can't put your actions on me.”

“You loved me once. The time we were together was the happiest few months of my life. Why did you have to end it? What did I do? I never understood. I thought—I've always thought—there was a chance we'd find each other again. If nothing else, for Booker. All I ever got to be in his eyes was his godfather. You don't know how much I wanted to claim him as my own.”

“Did you tell Jordan?” she asked weakly.

“He already knew. He wasn't stupid. He could see the resemblance, even if no one else could.”

Cordelia flapped air into her face. This was the
National Enquirer
and
Inside Edition
on steroids.

Beverly sat with her head bowed. Tommy had turned away, refusing to look at Kit.

“But what about Ray?” asked Cordelia. “Why were you targeting him?”

Archibald's face flushed a deep red. Narrowing his eyes at Kit, he said, “It was
my
turn. You should have come to
me,
not another pretty boy in an expensive suit. I saw the way you looked at him, how you touched his hand, tilted your head, smiled, and cooed. You pulled away from me and showered all your warmth on him. Why? Am I so grotesque? Why is it that you could never see
me.
I've been there for you my entire adult life. Why doesn't Archibald ever merit one of your loving looks? Ray Lawless was nothing. He didn't believe in you, or care about you. He would have left you just like every other man you've ever loved. I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him. Kit, I'm done putting up with your faithless, cheating ways. There will be no more men in your life. Only me.”

From the back of the hall, uniformed officers began to filter down the aisles.

Cordelia stood as Neil DePetro entered stage left and brushed right past her. He held up his badge as he approached Archibald. As he read him his rights, he glanced at the handcuffs, then back at Cordelia.

She waved and tittered.

An instant later, Jane appeared next to her. “I can't believe it,” she whispered.

“They found the gun?” Cordelia whispered back.

“You were right. Archibald suffers from terminal arrogance. Must've thought he was too smart to get caught. He never even tried to hide it.”

As two uniformed officers led a furious and sweating Archibald away, DePetro walked over to Jane and Cordelia. “You two think you're pretty clever.”

Cordelia was good at looking innocent. “You talking to us?”

“Where did you get those handcuffs?”

“An army-navy surplus store?”

“He let you put them on him willingly?”

“He's kind of kinky. Or perhaps he saw it as a joke.”

Scowling, DePetro favored them with a stern look. “Some joke.”

“I've always thought humor was a rather personal thing,” said Cordelia.

“You two are a real pair.”

With one last hard look, he left the stage.

“We did it,” said Jane.

At what cost, thought Cordelia, seeing Tommy, his shoulders sagging, walking up the aisle all alone. Beverly continued to sit with her back to Kit. Nobody would come out of this feeling like a winner.

 

38

Jane paused next to the empty box office window to watch Cordelia and Booker, arm in arm, talking animatedly, make their way across the first floor theater lobby toward her. Three days had come and gone since Archibald had been arrested on four counts of murder. Almost every national and local news outlet was covering the story 24-7. Jane was so sick of hearing about Archibald and his lawyer's various spin moves that she refused to turn on the TV, read a paper, or listen to the radio.