As Time Goes By (32 page)

Betsy's voice broke. “Yes. Ted gave it to me for our first anniversary.”

“Are your initials and his initials engraved on it?”

“Yes.”

“When did you first realize it was missing?”

“A few weeks after my husband's death.”

“Did you report it stolen?”

“No. I had no reason to believe it had been stolen. There was no other jewelry missing.”

“Did you report it as lost to your insurance company?”

“No. I thought Ted may have taken it and put it somewhere in the house. I did not want to report it lost, get money from the insurance company and then find it later on. Carmen and I looked everywhere for it. I wanted very much to find it. It meant a lot to me. I had just decided the other day to report it lost, but before I got a chance to do it, all of this happened.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

Elliot Holmes walked up to the witness stand. “Mrs. Grant, you have no idea when this bracelet was stolen, do you?”

“Not specifically. I had not worn it in the last year before I realized it was missing. Ted couldn't go out anymore so there wasn't much occasion to wear this kind of bracelet. I think I last wore it to a charity dinner.”

“Did you ever wear this very sentimental item in the dozens of times you had dinner in New York with Peter Benson?”

Betsy wanted to scream. “No I did not!” she shouted.

“So, it could have been stolen anytime in that year, correct?”

“I was not aware it had been stolen, so obviously I don't know the exact moment. But Mr. Sharkey had never worked at my house until the two days before Ted died. How would he have known about my house before that?”

Holmes snapped, “Mrs. Grant. Just answer the question.”

“I told you. I had not worn it in the year before Ted died and I didn't realize it was missing.”

“And after you were arrested, your longtime housekeeper never told you about dirt on the rug under the upstairs window. Correct?”

“No she did not. I wish that she had. She feels very sorry about that.”

Smirking, Holmes said, “I have no further questions.”

Betsy stepped down from the witness stand and slowly walked back to the defense table. Robert Maynard pulled her chair back for her and she sat down.

“Judge, the defense rests.”

“Any rebuttal, Prosecutor?”

“No, Judge.”

The judge turned to the jurors, told them that the presentation of evidence was complete and that they should return at nine o'clock tomorrow for the summations and legal instruction.

T
hursday was Josie's day off. She slept late, but as she got up, she was thinking how happy she was that she had met Delaney Wright. It had opened a new way of thinking for her.

What if I got a meeting with the prosecutor and told him that after thinking it over, I realized that Alan had set me up to be his alibi. In her mind she ticked off what she would tell the prosecutor. One, she hadn't even
talked
to Alan for six months when suddenly he called, then told her how much he missed her. For about a month before his father died they went out at least three times a week. Then one night he started whining how worried he was about his father and how lonely he had been feeling. He said he knew he would be really depressed after the birthday party for his father, and would need somebody to talk to. I said okay, and agreed to meet him for a drink at ten o'clock at O'Malley's, one block away from my apartment. For the next hour and a half I listened to his sob story. Then he said he didn't want to be alone. He begged me to stay at his apartment, but knowing what a slob he is, I had told him to come to my place instead.

Like I told Delaney Wright, she thought, I didn't know Alan was allergic to cats, and he didn't know I had adopted one. He started to wheeze the minute he walked through the door, but even so, he stayed. And what a coincidence it was that his father was murdered that very night. Bingo, I'm his alibi!

Since his father died, Alan and I have been getting together at least once a week, but it was nothing more than a pretense of dating. Look, I've been around and I know if a guy is interested, she thought. And did he even thank me for backing up his story when I was on the witness stand? No. I covered his tail and that was all he wanted.

I can tell the prosecutor all of this, Josie thought. I'll be recalled to the stand. I'll knock the wind out of that whining jerk who was so crazy about his father but stood to inherit millions when he died.

As she petted her cat, Josie thought, I'll call Alan and tell him to come up with a million bucks or I dial the prosecutor. I'll tell him to get a loan. He'll get all his father's money when his stepmother is convicted, but I wouldn't trust him that I'll see any of it once the trial is over.

You thought I was too dumb to figure this out, Alan, Josie thought. It took me a little time, but now I have it straight.

She smiled, and the cat began to purr.

W
hen the phone rang Thursday afternoon and he saw it was Josie, Alan almost didn't pick it up. But she had backed him up one hundred percent on his alibi. That was more important than ever now. He needed to keep her happy.

“Hi, Josie,” he said warmly. “How's my best girl?”

“Your best girl has been doing a lot of thinking,” Josie answered, a smile in her voice. “Now let me explain to you what I've been thinking about.”

Alan's fingers became clammy as she told him what she wanted. “Josie, there is no way in the world I can get you one million dollars in the next twenty-four hours. And I can't sign anything saying I owe you that kind of money.”

They haggled back and forth for the next ten minutes before Alan was able to persuade her to accept a compromise. He told her he would make an appointment at his lawyer's office. He'd meet her there and make her a joint owner of his condo. He was pretty sure that would be easy to do. If anyone asked, he could say he loved Josie and wanted to show her how serious he was about their relationship. When the trial was over and he got his money, he'd give her the other half of the condo.

After Josie hung up, Alan slammed his cell phone down on the table. What next? Even if he got the whole fifteen million, he had already promised Scott twenty percent of it. And he had botched the job, Alan thought. He was supposed to go back to the house after the dinner and inject Dad with something that would make it look like a heart attack. Instead Dad woke up and started to strangle him. Scott grabbed the pestle and smashed the back of his head.

Alan picked up the phone and called his lawyer. After that he called Josie back and told her to meet him at his lawyer's office at four o'clock.

D
elaney wanted to go to court on Thursday morning to watch Tony Sharkey testify but was even more interested in meeting Lisa Clifton. She had been surprised when she received an 8
A.M.
call suggesting that instead of meeting at her house they have coffee at a restaurant in Allendale, two towns away.

If Lisa Clifton's expression had been compassionate when she attended to Betsy, today it was anxious. Lisa's eyes scanned the room as though she were looking for someone.

At ten o'clock, when Delaney arrived at the restaurant, most of the breakfast crowd had left. Lisa was sitting in a booth near the back.

The reporter in Delaney always studied the appearance of anyone she was interviewing. She had observed in court that Lisa had a slender body and short dark blonde hair. Now she could see that her angular face was attractive. There was no mistaking the tension in her voice.

“Delaney,” she began, “as I'm sure you noticed yesterday, I am very concerned about Betsy Grant. She is my dear friend, and she no more killed her husband than you or I did.”

“I absolutely agree,” Delaney said. “It's very clear to me that Dr. Clifton believes Betsy Grant is guilty. I'll be honest. I've wondered if that has caused tension between you two.”

Lisa Clifton's eyes scanned the room. “Delaney, my marriage is over. It was a mistake from day one. I saw a real estate agent. I signed a lease on an apartment in Morristown. I have my old job back at Johnson & Johnson. I'm moving my things out of the Ridgewood house tomorrow.”

“I'm sorry,” Delaney said.

“Don't be,” Lisa said. “Before I say anything, Delaney, tell me who you think killed Ted.”

Delaney didn't hesitate. “Alan Grant. I know he has a perfect alibi, but that's the point. It's too perfect. He arranges to see an old girlfriend for a drink on the night of the dinner party. He prevails on her to let him stay the night at her apartment because he's lonely. In the process he gets the security cameras in her building and her as his alibi. Alan didn't kill his father, but there's no doubt in my mind that he was working with whoever did.”

Lisa paused and looked around the room again, but said nothing.

Lisa knows something, Delaney thought. This might be my only chance to get her to talk. “Lisa, you have heard that a burglar is swearing he was in Betsy's house and stole her bracelet the night her husband was murdered and that he saw a black Mercedes leaving the property.”

“Yes, I heard that on the radio.”

“His testimony is too vague. I have enough experience in court to know the prosecutor is going to blow this guy away.”

“I'm afraid that's what is going to happen.”

“And tomorrow the prosecutor and Betsy's defense lawyer are going to sum up, then the case goes to the jury and Betsy Grant is going to be convicted,” Delaney said, her voice rising.

She waited. When Lisa said nothing, Delaney burst out, “Lisa, I'm sure you don't know that I'm adopted. I had some friends try to see if they could trace my birth parents. On Monday night these friends told me that Betsy Grant is my mother and Peter Benson is my father.”

Startled, Lisa studied Delaney's face. “I can see your resemblance to them,” she said. Again she looked fearfully around the small dining room. “Delaney, I swore my husband was home all night, the night Ted died. And I thought he was. But I went upstairs to bed and he said he was going to watch television in the den, have a scotch and unwind. When I went down in the morning he was asleep on the couch fully dressed. He could have gone out and come back in the middle of the night, I simply don't know. And he has a feeling I'm up to something. When I came back from seeing the real estate agent he had come home early from the office and wanted to know where I had been. That's why I asked you to meet me here instead of at my house.”

Delaney stared at her. “You think your husband might have murdered Dr. Grant?”

“I think it's more than a possibility. In the weeks before Ted died, Scott and Alan Grant met for lunch several times. Now I'm wondering if Alan offered him money to kill Ted. Alan could easily have found out the alarm code from his father and taken that missing key and given it to Scott.”