[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.“Listen, Clare.I’m sorry about doing that to you in front of the authorities, but you have to understand my position.”I might have been humiliated but I wasn’t stupid.“You’re more concerned with bad publicity than the fact that someone may be trying to murder you, is that it?”David sighed.“Please, Clare.No one is trying to murder me.But even if someone wanted me dead, I could never admit it publicly.I have multiple businesses.Partnerships all over the world.I frankly loathe the comparison, but, like Ms.Stewart, I am my companies.They do not function without me.I can’t afford for anyone—not my associates, not my partners, investors, customers, or clients—to entertain the notion that I’m involved in something shady enough to invite a murder attempt.Millions of dollars and thousands of employees livelihoods are at stake.I have responsibilities.”I wanted to speak, but bit my lip and nodded instead.“I understand.”David slumped down in a seat in front of the table.“In any case, there are obviously gaps in my home security system—”“Didn’t I tell you that the first day I came?”“Indeed you did.That you were right about, Clare.”“It’s time you got a serious alarm system,” I told him, “installed outdoor lighting—”“I shall make the call just as soon as the police leave my house.”“Not just alarms and motion detectors, okay?” I said.“Real security guards, around the clock.You don’t have to hire Spielberg’s ex-Masaad agents, but for god’s sake get some Pinkertons, at least until Treat’s murder is solved and the murderer caught.”David smiled.“Very well, but on one condition.”“Yes?”“I want you to drop the notion that I’m the real target for murder—pronto.”After a beat I nodded.“Okay.Agreed.”“Good.” David rose.“Now I’ll rejoin those detectives, before there’s any more damage done to my imported Italian marble bathroom.”SIXCUPPA J was a short ride from David Mintzer’s beach house, but, typical of a sunny summer day in the Hamptons, traffic was horrendous.Democratic, too.Late model BMWs, Ferraris, Mercedes, and Jaguars inched along with the same egalitarian sluggishness as my lowly Honda.A ten-minute drive became forty minutes of start-and-stop frustration.When I finally left “Leisure with Dignity” around eleven-fifteen, the Suffolk County police were still going over details of the shot in the dark.I could tell David was losing patience in discussing details of the party, what he knew of Treat’s background, how it might be related to his fellow employees or David’s guest list.Through it all, David’s facade probably appeared as charming as ever.But I had gotten to know him pretty well by now, and I recognized the cracks forming at his edges.I’d promised him that I’d stay out of it…but how could I keep my promise? While I tried to tell myself that the police were on the case and that was enough, in my gut I knew they were on the wrong case.And what good would that do David?In the bumper-to-bumper traffic, I contemplated what O’Rourke and Melchior would do next.They’d probably want to know the results of the autopsy and whether the bullet in Treat’s skull actually matched up with the shells I’d found.I’d bet a forty-pound bag of Jamaica Blue Mountain that they would.They’d also be conducting interviews with people who knew Treat, trying to dig up some significant vendetta or grudge.But it was the people around David who needed to be interviewed as far as I could see.Well, I thought, at least they’re going to talk to Marjorie Bright.Certainly, she was at the top of my suspect list.But as I inched along in traffic, I rethought the theory I’d hastily blurted out to the Suffolk County detectives.Cringing, I realized there were holes in my hypothesis through which I could probably drive a Hummer (much like the bright yellow one hogging part of the shoulder in front of me).For one thing, why would Ms.Bright have fouled up her alibi by hanging around the crime scene? Unless she fell into that category Mike Quinn had once mentioned—pathologically wanting to see the results of her bought and-paid-for crime—which I myself didn’t wholly buy.And for another, if a paid assassin had been involved in the crime, then why did I find bullet casings? A true professional would not have left shells behind.It smacked of amateurish carelessness…so…did that mean the shooter was actually an amateur?“Clare! Hey, there, Clare!”I peered out my open window to find Edna Miller waving at me from her roadside farm stand [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]