We had coffee.”
Kellys do not cry, and as I was a Kelly, I had to keep my eyes dry. I must say I felt like sobbing and wailing, but that was, of course, out of the question.
As the door closed behind the two detectives, Sammy said, “Now you can fill me in.” He glanced at the door and touched both of his small, neat ears. I got the message. Say nothing I didn’t want them to hear. Say only what was on the record. I could do that. It took a while to get the whole story out. He wanted every detail about the invitation, the luncheon and our relationship with Chadwick Kauffman.
“We didn’t have a relationship with him. We got the invitation out of the blue. It was purely business. A cash transaction,” I whispered with a glance at the door.
“You never met him before?”
“Not him and not them. He wanted to sell some books to Vera, who was willing to give him an excellent price forthem. Everyone would be ahead. It was a good thing. There was no reason at all for anyone to hurt him.”
“Okay, now tell me what she asked you.”
I did my best to repeat all the questions. “She’s saying that Kevin’s fingerprints are on a statue and that the statue is the murder weapon.” I reached out and touched his beefy arm. “There’s no way that’s possible. Kevin wasn’t upstairs. None of us were. We could see the staircase clearly from the foyer and the sitting room and we had no way to know there was an elevator. So even if we were capable of murder—which we aren’t—I couldn’t have killed him. Vera and Kev couldn’t have either. Anyway, even if one of us had been upstairs—which we weren’t—Chadwick was alive and smirking when we left.”
Sammy gazed at me, waiting.
“You do know that the police don’t have to be truthful with you during interviews, don’t you?”
Oh. Well. Of course I knew that. “I don’t think she was lying, but I knew she was wrong. Kev might have touched that little marble statue. But it was still there when we went back to the sitting room. The lieutenant seems like a decent person. Tough, but decent.”
Sammy let out a booming belly laugh. “That’s cute, kid. You can’t go by what she looks like. She’s a detective investigating a murder. Her job is to break down your resistance and get the answers she needs to solve the case. This guy was a big shot, and the murder is in the news. She’ll be under pressure. But that’s not our problem.”
“No. But we do have a problem. The whole situation is a problem. I’ve been thinking about it. I told you Castellano said that Lisa Troy and the butler don’t even exist—well, they do exist. But obviously they’re not who they said they were.”
“Yep. Got that.”
“It’s all so theatrical. I felt like I was in one of the Ngaio Marsh books that Vera bought.”
“Theatrical?”
“Yes, everything about it felt staged. But who would stage it?”
Sammy leaned forward and his black eyes bored into mine.
I returned his gaze. “So there’s only one thing it could be.”
He nodded. “A setup.”
CHAPTER SIX
I SUPPOSE IF you were a defense attorney, you’d prefer something a bit more concrete to keep your client out of jail. Yelling, “Setup!” only gets you so far.
Sammy sat thinking. At least he wasn’t one to scowl.
I said, “Thank you for coming. I felt I was being ground down and fast. How do people survive hours and hours of questioning without accidentally implicating themselves?”
“Usually they don’t. That’s why you don’t allow yourself to be interviewed without representation. They trip you up. They get you rattled. The next stage they’d be saying that Vera Van Alst or Kevin didn’t back up your story and pointed the finger at you.”
“I wouldn’t fall for that,” I said.
“Says the kid who didn’t think the cops would lie to her. These people have training. You’d be surprised what they can get people to admit to, whether they’re guilty or not.”
“I don’t see how
Kellys do not cry, and as I was a Kelly, I had to keep my eyes dry. I must say I felt like sobbing and wailing, but that was, of course, out of the question.
As the door closed behind the two detectives, Sammy said, “Now you can fill me in.” He glanced at the door and touched both of his small, neat ears. I got the message. Say nothing I didn’t want them to hear. Say only what was on the record. I could do that. It took a while to get the whole story out. He wanted every detail about the invitation, the luncheon and our relationship with Chadwick Kauffman.
“We didn’t have a relationship with him. We got the invitation out of the blue. It was purely business. A cash transaction,” I whispered with a glance at the door.
“You never met him before?”
“Not him and not them. He wanted to sell some books to Vera, who was willing to give him an excellent price forthem. Everyone would be ahead. It was a good thing. There was no reason at all for anyone to hurt him.”
“Okay, now tell me what she asked you.”
I did my best to repeat all the questions. “She’s saying that Kevin’s fingerprints are on a statue and that the statue is the murder weapon.” I reached out and touched his beefy arm. “There’s no way that’s possible. Kevin wasn’t upstairs. None of us were. We could see the staircase clearly from the foyer and the sitting room and we had no way to know there was an elevator. So even if we were capable of murder—which we aren’t—I couldn’t have killed him. Vera and Kev couldn’t have either. Anyway, even if one of us had been upstairs—which we weren’t—Chadwick was alive and smirking when we left.”
Sammy gazed at me, waiting.
“You do know that the police don’t have to be truthful with you during interviews, don’t you?”
Oh. Well. Of course I knew that. “I don’t think she was lying, but I knew she was wrong. Kev might have touched that little marble statue. But it was still there when we went back to the sitting room. The lieutenant seems like a decent person. Tough, but decent.”
Sammy let out a booming belly laugh. “That’s cute, kid. You can’t go by what she looks like. She’s a detective investigating a murder. Her job is to break down your resistance and get the answers she needs to solve the case. This guy was a big shot, and the murder is in the news. She’ll be under pressure. But that’s not our problem.”
“No. But we do have a problem. The whole situation is a problem. I’ve been thinking about it. I told you Castellano said that Lisa Troy and the butler don’t even exist—well, they do exist. But obviously they’re not who they said they were.”
“Yep. Got that.”
“It’s all so theatrical. I felt like I was in one of the Ngaio Marsh books that Vera bought.”
“Theatrical?”
“Yes, everything about it felt staged. But who would stage it?”
Sammy leaned forward and his black eyes bored into mine.
I returned his gaze. “So there’s only one thing it could be.”
He nodded. “A setup.”
CHAPTER SIX
I SUPPOSE IF you were a defense attorney, you’d prefer something a bit more concrete to keep your client out of jail. Yelling, “Setup!” only gets you so far.
Sammy sat thinking. At least he wasn’t one to scowl.
I said, “Thank you for coming. I felt I was being ground down and fast. How do people survive hours and hours of questioning without accidentally implicating themselves?”
“Usually they don’t. That’s why you don’t allow yourself to be interviewed without representation. They trip you up. They get you rattled. The next stage they’d be saying that Vera Van Alst or Kevin didn’t back up your story and pointed the finger at you.”
“I wouldn’t fall for that,” I said.
“Says the kid who didn’t think the cops would lie to her. These people have training. You’d be surprised what they can get people to admit to, whether they’re guilty or not.”
“I don’t see how
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