something important. “I don’t understand where you fit into this, Mr. McKennon. Or what it has to do with Lorna.”
Andrew flashed her a brief, grim smile. “I’m getting to that, Donna. First of all, my name isn’t really McKennon. It’s Trudeau.”
Donna gasped and stared at Luke with angry accusation.
He shrugged, still refusing to speak and apparently undaunted by his deceit.
“Then you two are brothers,” she stated sharply.
“Yes.”
“I really don’t understand—”
“I’m a detective with N.Y.P.D. I’ve been working undercover on this case for almost a year. I’ve been living on the streets and eating in the soup kitchens, trying to get some kind of word from the street grapevine.”
“Oh…but I’ve been to the police! Why did they deny everything?”
Andrew sighed, taking a seat beside her, clasping and unclasping his hands in an idle gesture. Luke finally stepped up and began to talk, settling at her side on one knee and taking the fingers of her left hand into his own.
“Donna, while he was working on the streets, Andrew learned that the crimes were not as obvious as it appeared. The ‘robber’ or ‘robbers’—whichever the case may be—were hired to rob and paid a much higher sum than the money and jewelry stolen.”
Donna was truly confused and truly frightened. “I don’t understand.”
Luke straightened and idly paced before the low coffee table. “Someone was planning the ‘perfect’ crime.”
“Donna,” Andrew said, stepping back into the conversation, “nine out of ten times when a murder is committed, the police look first to the family. The wife, the child, and so on. And we’re not quite as bumbling as some people would like to make us out to be. We do catch most of those types of murderers.”
“Crimes of passion are often very easy,” Luke said. “Crimes with financial motive can be even easier.”
“Now I’m really confused,” Donna murmured.
“It is confusing and that’s why we’ve got all this subterfuge going on,” Andrew said.
“At the end of August,” Luke told her, “another of the mugger’s victims died. Her name was Hattie Simson. She was a very wealthy woman, and the majority stockholder in a company called Lithtin.”
“Her grandson,” Andrew continued, “was naturally distraught by her death. Too distraught. We discovered that he had been trying to wrest the old lady’s power from her for a long, long time.”
Donna felt a headache coming on; her mind was whirling, but she felt she was at last beginning to understand.
“I—I think I understand. This man wanted to kill his grandmother, so he staged a number of armed robberies so that when she was killed, suspicion would never fall on him, because it would appear that she was killed by someone the police were already stalking?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, God,” Donna whispered, feeling ill. “But what…what does Lorna have to do with this?”
“Lorna stumbled onto the crime,” Luke said. “She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She saw the man who struck Mrs. Simson, and she saw another man, the driver of the car that the killer ran to in order to make his escape.”
“And she can identify them both?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you arrest them?”
Andrew glanced at Luke, then sighed. “It’s not that simple. A good defense attorney could rip her apart on a witness stand. The night was dark, et cetera, et cetera. And I haven’t been able to find the man who actually committed the robbery and murder.”
“Donna, newspaper reporters tried to interview Lorna right after the crime. There were policemen all over the place, but suddenly shots started ringing out from a nearby building. She was grazed across the shoulder, and that’s why she went into the hospital.”
“She was hurt!” Donna cried out in horror.
“Not badly, only a flesh wound,” Luke assured her. “But there was no record of her having been at the hospital
Andrew flashed her a brief, grim smile. “I’m getting to that, Donna. First of all, my name isn’t really McKennon. It’s Trudeau.”
Donna gasped and stared at Luke with angry accusation.
He shrugged, still refusing to speak and apparently undaunted by his deceit.
“Then you two are brothers,” she stated sharply.
“Yes.”
“I really don’t understand—”
“I’m a detective with N.Y.P.D. I’ve been working undercover on this case for almost a year. I’ve been living on the streets and eating in the soup kitchens, trying to get some kind of word from the street grapevine.”
“Oh…but I’ve been to the police! Why did they deny everything?”
Andrew sighed, taking a seat beside her, clasping and unclasping his hands in an idle gesture. Luke finally stepped up and began to talk, settling at her side on one knee and taking the fingers of her left hand into his own.
“Donna, while he was working on the streets, Andrew learned that the crimes were not as obvious as it appeared. The ‘robber’ or ‘robbers’—whichever the case may be—were hired to rob and paid a much higher sum than the money and jewelry stolen.”
Donna was truly confused and truly frightened. “I don’t understand.”
Luke straightened and idly paced before the low coffee table. “Someone was planning the ‘perfect’ crime.”
“Donna,” Andrew said, stepping back into the conversation, “nine out of ten times when a murder is committed, the police look first to the family. The wife, the child, and so on. And we’re not quite as bumbling as some people would like to make us out to be. We do catch most of those types of murderers.”
“Crimes of passion are often very easy,” Luke said. “Crimes with financial motive can be even easier.”
“Now I’m really confused,” Donna murmured.
“It is confusing and that’s why we’ve got all this subterfuge going on,” Andrew said.
“At the end of August,” Luke told her, “another of the mugger’s victims died. Her name was Hattie Simson. She was a very wealthy woman, and the majority stockholder in a company called Lithtin.”
“Her grandson,” Andrew continued, “was naturally distraught by her death. Too distraught. We discovered that he had been trying to wrest the old lady’s power from her for a long, long time.”
Donna felt a headache coming on; her mind was whirling, but she felt she was at last beginning to understand.
“I—I think I understand. This man wanted to kill his grandmother, so he staged a number of armed robberies so that when she was killed, suspicion would never fall on him, because it would appear that she was killed by someone the police were already stalking?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, God,” Donna whispered, feeling ill. “But what…what does Lorna have to do with this?”
“Lorna stumbled onto the crime,” Luke said. “She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She saw the man who struck Mrs. Simson, and she saw another man, the driver of the car that the killer ran to in order to make his escape.”
“And she can identify them both?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you arrest them?”
Andrew glanced at Luke, then sighed. “It’s not that simple. A good defense attorney could rip her apart on a witness stand. The night was dark, et cetera, et cetera. And I haven’t been able to find the man who actually committed the robbery and murder.”
“Donna, newspaper reporters tried to interview Lorna right after the crime. There were policemen all over the place, but suddenly shots started ringing out from a nearby building. She was grazed across the shoulder, and that’s why she went into the hospital.”
“She was hurt!” Donna cried out in horror.
“Not badly, only a flesh wound,” Luke assured her. “But there was no record of her having been at the hospital
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