Murder on Fifth Avenue: A Gaslight Mystery by Victoria Thompson Page B

nodded encouragement. “Yes, I…I was only there a few minutes.”
    “What did you talk about?”
    He stiffened. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
    “Roderick said you argued.”
    Paul flushed. “We often argued.”
    Zeller placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Was it about me?”
    “No!” Paul shook off the hand and glared at Frank. “It had nothing to do with his death.”
    “How can you be sure?” Frank asked.
    “He can’t hurt you anymore,” Zeller said. “Why would you want to protect him?”
    “I don’t want to protect
him
!” Paul closed his eyes as he struggled with some emotion. When he opened them, they were cold. “He’d been very cruel to Garnet. I…I told him to stop.” He turned to Zeller, as if explaining to him was what mattered. “She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t even want to marry me.”
    “I know, Old Man, I know,” Zeller said.
    Paul turned back to Frank. “She’s a sweet girl. She deserves to be happy, but he was never going to allow it.”
    “What wasn’t he going to allow her to do?”
    “To divorce me.”

6
    “T HAT’S NOT VERY FLATTERING , O LD M AN ,” Z ELLER SAID . “I wonder you’d admit such a thing to a stranger.”
    Paul didn’t even acknowledge him. He was watching Frank, who didn’t quite know what to make of this. “Your wife wanted to divorce you?”
    “She’s not like us. She didn’t come from here, and she hated all the rules and restrictions. She hated living here with my parents.”
    “That part I can understand,” Zeller said.
    “Why didn’t you just get a house of your own?” Frank asked.
    “Because I don’t have any money of my own, and Father would never have allowed it. He wanted to keep me under his thumb.”
    Now this was getting interesting. “So as long as your father was alive, you had to depend on him for everything.”
    “Exactly,” Paul said.
    Zeller sighed dramatically. “Old Man, I think you just admitted you had a reason to want your father dead.”
    “Oh, no,” Frank lied. “I think most young men feel like that about their fathers. Tell me, Mr. Devries, how was your father dressed when you went to his room the day he died?”
    Paul shifted uneasily. “Dressed?”
    “Yes, what was he wearing?”
    Paul glanced at Zeller again. His friend was smiling, as if this whole thing amused him tremendously. “He had on a robe.”
    “Was he wearing it the entire time you were with him?”
    The color rose in Paul’s face. “What does that matter?”
    “I thought you might have noticed a wound on your father’s back. Did he remove his robe while you were there?”
    “Yes.” He spit the word out as if it tasted vile.
    Zeller muttered something that might have been an oath.
    “He liked to show off,” Paul said, angry now. “He thought himself a fine specimen of a man, and he knew I could never compare, so he’d do it to make me feel inferior.”
    “And did you?” Frank asked.
    “Did I what?”
    “Feel inferior?”
    “Mostly I just felt furious. What kind of a thing is that to do? Who displays himself like that?”
    Frank didn’t know the answer, so he said, “And did you notice anything unusual?”
    “I didn’t look at him. I never do. I wouldn’t have noticed if he’d cut off one of his arms.”
    Frank wanted to ask if he’d stabbed his father, but he’d wait on that. “And did he agree to stop being cruel to your wife?”
    “Of course not. He just laughed at me. He knows…knew I couldn’t do anything about it. And poor Garnet, she couldn’t do anything about it either.”
    “And now you’re both free,” Frank said.
    Zeller leaned close to Paul and pretended to whisper. “He’s thinking you killed the old bugger.”
    “Well, I didn’t. I almost wish I had. At least then Garnet would respect me.”
    “Now you’ve got all your father’s money,” Frank said. “Or at least I assume you’re his heir. I know rich families sometimes don’t like to divide up the