Seeds of Deception (16 page)

“I didn't think about that at first. But when the EMTs arrived, I think they had to kick aside one of those heavy brass bookends—you remember those, don't you? The reclining lions?”

“Oh, of course. You've had them in every office of yours that I've visited.”

“Those are the ones. One was lying on the floor, the other was where it should be, on a shelf. It never occurred to me to tell the EMTs to handle it carefully, as evidence. My first thought was that Arthur had fallen and hit his head, so I wasn't looking for weapons. For all I know it's still lying on the floor.”

“Did the police seal off your office?” Meg asked.

“They may have. I thought I should stay with Arthur, and I haven't been back to check. Nor do I know whether they searched the place.”

Meg had a sneaking suspicion that if the police chief felt as much resentment toward her father as he had described, then the cops had probably been all over the so-called crime scene, looking for evidence that could implicate Phillip. She
wondered how recently he had handled the lions—she had nicknamed them Castor and Pollux when she was about ten, because they were identical twins—but she wasn't about to bring up the fact that unless Miriam was a manic cleaner his fingerprints would be all over them. There were more important issues to think about.

“What state was the rest of the office in? Papers scattered around, file drawers hanging open? Did Miriam have a computer, and was it still there?”

“It was only after the EMTs had left that I realized there was some mess, but the police were already there. I didn't have a chance to see what had been tossed around.”

“Throughout all the rooms?”

“No, only the reception area, I think. As I said, I didn't go through the entire office. I thought it more important to accompany Arthur to the hospital.”

“Were there any papers
under
Arthur?”

Phillip shut his eyes again, but this time to better picture the scene. When he opened them he said, “I think not. So you're suggesting that they were tossed about after the intruder discovered Arthur in the office and knocked him out? That they weren't actually searching for anything?”

“It's possible, isn't it? Did the police take pictures of the scene?”

“Not while I was there, but they might have done so later.”

Meg thought for a moment. “Okay, so Arthur unlocks the door and walks in, and startles this unknown person, who manages to get behind him and hits him with the bronze lion sitting on your shelf. Then he realizes what he's done, when Arthur goes down and he sees it wasn't you, and he decides to stage the space and make it look like an
ordinary break-in. And then he ducks out, before accomplishing whatever he was after. Which could have been something in your files, or it could have been you personally. Was Arthur an early bird?”

“You mean, did he prefer to arrive early in the day? Yes.”

“So the intruder could have been there before most of your building's tenants arrived, and planned to leave before they did. What kind of security is there in the building? Cameras? A guard?”

Phillip actually smiled at that. “Clearly you haven't seen the building. Arthur and I opted for lower cost and what we called ‘period charm,' to put our clients at ease. It's an older building, nicely maintained, with a mix of small offices. But it has not been retrofitted with state-of-the-art electronic security devices. None of the tenants has ever seen the need for them.”

“Street cameras?”

“Meg! I have no idea. If there are cameras outside the building that might have captured images of whoever came and went, I have never noticed them. Can we simply look at this without hoping to find convenient pictures of our criminal? Don't tell me you have such cameras on every tree in Granford.”

That comment made Meg smile, if briefly. “I think we have to assume there are no pictures.” There was a pause, and Meg looked at her watch. How had it become six o'clock? And she felt a stab of guilt: Seth and Elizabeth could have been playing gin rummy, for all the attention she had paid to either of them. “Look, guys, why don't we take a break? Get some dinner?”

“That's a nice thought, dear,” Elizabeth said, “but I don't think I can face going out.”

“Let me go find some takeout,” Seth volunteered quickly. “If you'll tell me what you want and point me in the right direction.”

“That's a wonderful idea, Seth,” Elizabeth said. “Would Chinese do?”

Nods all around. “Let me give you something—” Phillip began, but Seth stopped him.

“I've got it. Just tell me where to go.”

After discussing directions, Meg walked out to the car with Seth, leaving her exhausted parents sitting on the couch. “You are a saint, Seth. There are a lot of men who would have disappeared rather than sit through something like that.”

“I'm not a lot of men. I think you're asking the right questions, and you're not sugarcoating them. Both your parents need to hear what you're saying. But we definitely need some food.”

“Then go and slay the dragon, or the lo mein and egg rolls—whatever looks good. I love you, Seth Chapin.”

“I know. That's why I'm still here.”

Seth arrived a half-hour later with bags of food. They sat in the so-called breakfast room, because it was more intimate than the formal dining room and less crowded than the kitchen nook would have been. Everyone made an effort to avoid talking about Arthur or the attack or about Enrique or the state of Phillip's car, which made the conversations rather strained. Seth and Meg volunteered the details of their tour of Monticello, which her parents had never seen. Seth talked about antique tools, and Phillip listened politely, although Meg knew he had little interest in working with his hands. Elizabeth smiled when anyone was looking at her, but said little, her face falling back into worried lines when the others turned away—but Meg noticed. Her heart ached for her mother: she didn't deserve this. Maybe she'd gotten off easy thus far in her life, but to be thrust suddenly
into not one but two murder investigations would be hard on anyone.

“I'll clean up,” Elizabeth said when they'd finished eating. Meg was about to protest when she realized that having something to do would probably be the best thing for her mother.

“I think we'll go up, then,” Meg said, glancing at Seth. He stood up and waited for her to do the same. “You both look done in. Get some sleep, will you?”

“Good night, sweetheart,” her father said as he stood and kissed her forehead.

Meg hugged her mother, holding on a moment longer than usual, and then she and Seth left the room and crossed the hall to what Meg always thought of as the grand staircase.

“Do you think any kids ever slid down this bannister?” Seth asked on the way up the stairs.

“Boys, maybe. It's pretty high, and you could do some real damage to yourself if you slipped.”

In bed, Meg, her head on Seth's chest, said, “I never realized how much my life would change when we got married.”

“We haven't changed, have we?”

“Yes and no. Or maybe I should say, the unit that is now
us,
which is not the same thing as you and me. If we weren't married, I wouldn't dream of dragging you into this mess with my parents.”

“I'm doing this for you, not for them. It's the transitive property of families.”

“I appreciate it, and I'm glad you're here. I'm just worried that because it's now in the ‘family' category, you think you have to be involved.”

“You've been part of plenty of my family's problems. Now it's my turn. So, is there a plan for tomorrow?”

“We go talk to Arthur, if we can. Assuming he's willing, and up to it.”

“Fair enough. Let's get some sleep.”

*   *   *

Elizabeth was already
downstairs in the kitchen when Meg came down. She looked better after a night's rest, but in the clear light of morning Meg realized how thin her mother's skin looked, like very fine suede. When had that happened?

“Coffee's made, dear,” Elizabeth said.

Meg helped herself to a cup, then sat down across from her mother. “You look more rested. Is Daddy okay?”

Meg was startled when Elizabeth's eyes darted around the room. Making sure no one else would overhear them? “He's all right, but his doctor is worried about his blood pressure—it's too high. That was why we went up to Massachusetts early, before the wedding. We were taking a mini vacation of sorts, to try to slow down and relax. The first few days were lovely, and of course, so was the wedding, but obviously after that things didn't quite work out, and they're not getting better. But I don't see any way to tell your father not to stress out over what's happening. He thinks he's invincible and he's supposed to be in charge.”

“He's cut back his working hours, hasn't he?”

“Perhaps by twenty percent? It's still far more than half of what it was, although he doesn't have to commute anymore—he goes into the city only now and then. I do want him to stay active and involved in something, but he
has few non-stressful interests. Or any interests at all, outside of work.”

“I'm sorry. Does he mind that Seth is involved in this? I'd hate to see them butting heads to see who is top dog. Or ram. Sorry, mangled metaphor. If we could clear this thing up—”

“It would be a godsend, darling, for both of us. I hope you can. But do keep in mind that you have a life of your own now, and it's not your responsibility to fix our messes.”

“I know that. I want to help. Are you all right? I know you've always looked out for Daddy because he won't do it for himself, but you have to take care of yourself, too.”

“I'm fine, dear. Just older, and slower. I take more naps than I used to, and I forget details now and then, but my doctor assures me that's well within the range of normal.”

Phillip came bustling in, shaved, dressed and looking energized. Seth followed. “Great news!” Phillip announced. “Arthur feels much better, and has agreed to talk to us.”

“Good heavens, Phillip,” Elizabeth protested. “Won't we overwhelm him if we all appear at once?”

Phillip looked deflated. “You might have a point.”

“Why don't I stay here?” she said. “After all, I don't know the man well.”

“I'll keep you company, Elizabeth,” Seth volunteered quickly. Meg was surprised at first, but then remembered that Seth had never even met Arthur, and he'd be just one more body in the room. “You mind, Meg?”

“No, not at all. Maybe Elizabeth can tell you what needs fixing in the house.” Meg wasn't going to let him off the hook too easily.

“Then it looks like you and me, Meg,” her father said. “You ready to go?”

“Daddy! I haven't finished my coffee, and I'd kind of like to eat breakfast. What's the hurry?”

Phillip relented and sat down next to his wife. “I just want to get on with things. And you kids must want to get home. I'm hoping that Arthur can give us enough information to point us in the right direction.”

“You want some coffee, Daddy?” Meg asked, getting up.

Phillip glanced at Elizabeth. “Your mother says I should drink decaf, which I think tastes like dishwater, but I want to make her happy.”

“The decaf is in the carafe on the counter there, dear,” Elizabeth pointed out. “And there are cinnamon buns warming in the oven.”

“I'll pour if you'll deal with the buns, Meg,” Seth said.

Five minutes later they were all supplied with coffee and food and crowded into the nook around its round table. Meg decided to start the ball rolling. “I'm going to guess that Arthur won't have a lot of stamina, and the hospital may not want us to hang around too long. What's most important to ask him, while we have the opportunity?”

Phillip raised one eyebrow at her. “Well, obviously, did he see anyone? Or hear or smell someone behind him?”

“Good one, Daddy. If it was a woman, there might be perfume or soap. Do men still use aftershave? Or anything scented?”

“Don't look at me,” Phillip said quickly. “But if this person was unwashed or a drunk, that might be noticeable.”

“True,” Meg conceded. “Next, we ask him what state was the office in when he arrived. Neat or messed up?”

“That's also a good point,” her father said. “How about, did he see anybody in the hallway or elevator when he came in?”

“Yes, of course. Did he have time to check for phone messages?” Meg thought for a moment. “I know you've sworn that Arthur didn't have any enemies, but I'd like to hear it for myself, from him. I assume he's been practicing law as long as you have—he may have made enemies you know nothing about.”

“Fair enough. How about if there have been any incidents in his life recently that he brushed off as mere annoyances at the time?”

“Of course, yes. Tell me, Daddy, is there any way this could be an attack on the both of you? Someone you defended or prosecuted together, in the past few years?”

“I hadn't considered that,” Phillip said thoughtfully. “We should definitely ask Arthur if anything like that occurs to him. Well!” He clapped his hands together. “I'd say that's more than enough for this round. I'm not sure if the police have visited him yet, but I'll try not to cross any lines that might annoy them.”

“Good idea.”

Meg and Phillip left half an hour later. Before she joined her father in the car, she asked Seth, “You don't have any nefarious plans for my mother, do you?”

Seth tried hard to look innocent. “Who, me? Although I believe she mentioned something about baby pictures.”

“Oh, God. I'm glad I won't be here.” Meg shuddered.

“I can't believe you were an ugly baby.”

“That's very kind of you. I don't think I was. More like ordinary. But remember, it's not only the baby pictures—it's everything up until I left for college.”

“Then you'd better come back and rescue me.”

“I'll try, but once my mother gets started, she's hard to stop.” She kissed him lightly. “Thank you for staying with her.”

“No thanks required. I like your mother, and I'd be useless at the hospital. It all works out just fine.”

Her father honked the horn in the driveway. “I've got to go,” Meg said. “I'm really hoping we find out something useful from Arthur.”

“Good luck. See you later!”

In the car Meg asked, “Where are we going?”

“Mountainside Hospital—it's not far. You wouldn't know it, since you've spent little time here.”

“And never needed a hospital, thank goodness. You called Arthur this morning?”

“I did. I'm not totally thoughtless—I wanted to be sure he felt ready for visitors, and I assumed you'd want to talk to him. The hospital will probably release him tomorrow—they're keeping him an extra day because it's a head injury, and he has no one at home to look after him.”

“Poor man. What's he going to do?”

“He didn't volunteer that information. I'll check in on him, though.”

More likely her mother would take over that task, and would probably deliver ready-to-eat meals that Arthur could heat up himself. “He lives in town here?”

“He does. He introduced us to the town, and then we found the house, and we've all been here ever since.”

After a pause, Meg said, “Daddy, do you have any friends? I mean, that you've kept in touch with for years?”

His eyes stayed on the road. “Like from college or law school? Not many, I'll admit. We keep tabs on each other through the alumni news, but we seldom see each other. Is your situation any different?”

“Not really, I guess. I've lost track of a lot of the people I was close to once, although we might be Facebook
friends now. But I'm so busy I don't have much time for social media.”

“But you like your life now?” Phillip asked.

“I do. And I have new friends. Maybe I just feel guilty because I don't talk to you and Mother as often as I could.”

“Don't you worry. We're happy you're leading your own life.” Phillip pulled into the driveway of a multistory brick building that Meg deduced was the hospital, and he drove around the back to park. Inside they were quickly directed to Arthur's room, and Meg was relieved to see that he was housed in a general nursing area rather than one for critical care. He had indeed been lucky.

Phillip entered the room first. “Arthur, you look great!” he said, a bit more heartily than necessary. While they exchanged greetings, Meg studied the man in the bed. Her father's age, of course; fairly broad in the shoulder, from what she could tell. She couldn't begin to guess at his height, since he was lying down. His hairline was receding, and what hair remained was cut a bit shorter than Phillip's, but close to the same color, and Meg could see that from the back they could be mistaken for each other.

“I told you I had a hard head,” Arthur said. “And this must be your daughter, Margaret.” The man extended a hand to her.

“Meg, please. It's nice to meet you at last, Arthur, although I wish it could be under better circumstances. But at least it sounds like you got off with only minor injuries.”

“That's what they tell me. Not even any stitches, just a couple of super-stick-ums. Well, you two, we should get down to business, before some dragon lady nurse comes along and tells me I need to rest. I assume you have questions?”

“Of course we do,” Phillip said. “We went over them at breakfast, so we won't waste your time.”

There was only one chair in the room, and Phillip went searching for a second chair for Meg, so they could both sit down. They sat beside each other on the window side of the bed. Phillip quickly and efficiently launched into the list they had discussed earlier, but most of Arthur's answers were less than helpful. No, he hadn't seen anyone, anywhere, even in the hallway. He hadn't expected to. He hadn't heard the person who hit him, and couldn't swear that he hadn't already been in the room, maybe hiding behind the door. No, he hadn't smelled the man—that question made Arthur laugh—although he was pretty sure it was a man. The only response of any value came when Phillip asked about the state of the office.