Part 27 (1/2)

she said. ”And whether you appreciate it or not, I do know when something is really confidential.”

”I wasn't aware there was a difference between 'confidential' and 'really confidential,'” Jeff said.

”Oh, there absolutely is,” Anna a.s.sured him crisply. ”Look, is that Mr. Paley heading this way?”

”Yes, it is,” Jeff said. ”And that's his lawyer behind him. Send them right in.”

Henry Paley read a statement into the record that had obviously been prepared by his attorney.

He had been Georgette Grove's junior partner in the agency for more than twenty years. While he and Georgette had disagreed over the joint property they owned on Route 24, and about whether it was time for him to consider retirement, they had always been good friends. ”It was personally very disappointing to me to realize that Georgette had gone through my desk and taken out the file of notes outlining my agreements with Ted Cartwright,” he said, in a wooden voice.

Henry admitted that he had been at the Holland Road house several times more than he had indicated, but he insisted that it was only carelessness in keeping his daily reminder.

He went on to acknowledge that about a year ago he had been offered one hundred thousand dollars from Ted Cartwright if he was able to persuade Georgette to sell the land on Route 24 to make room for commercial development. He said she wasn't interested, so it never came to pa.s.s.

”There has been a question as to my whereabouts on or around the time of the demise of Charley Hatch, the landscaper,” Henry read. ”I left my office at one fifteen and went directly to the Mark Grannon Real Estate Agency. There I met Thomas Madison, who is Georgette Grove's cousin. Mr. Grannon had made an offer to buy our agency.

”As for the late Charley Hatch-I may have seen Mr. Hatch when I was showing properties where he was engaging in landscaping services. I do not remember ever exchanging a word with him.

”Referring to the most recent homicide that may have some connection to the Barton family, I never met the victim, Zach Willet, nor have I ever ridden a horse or taken riding lessons.”

Looking pleased with himself, Henry folded his statement neatly and looked at Jeff. ”I trust that covers the situation.”

”Maybe,” Jeff said pleasantly. ”But I do have one question: Don't you think that Georgette Grove, knowing of your cozy relations.h.i.+p with Ted Cartwright, would have lived out her life holding onto the Route 24 property rather than go along with you and sell it commercially?

From what I hear about her, that's exactly what she would do.”

”I object to that question,” Paley's lawyer said heatedly.

”You were in the vicinity of Holland Road when Georgette was shot, Mr. Paley, and her death made it possible for you to get a better deal than Cartwright was offering. That will be all for today. Thank you for coming in to make your statement, Mr. Paley.”

CHAPTER 75.

The heavy frame that had once surrounded a mirror and then became the repository of Zach Willet's 25th anniversary memorabilia had been placed on top of a wide desk in a vacant office just down the hall from Jeff MacKingsley.

Investigator Liz Reilly had only been in the prosecutor's office a few months, and was champing at the bit to be involved in a murder case. She had been instructed to review every card and note pasted on the frame and to look carefully for any photograph that might show a bullet lodged in a tree, or in a structure such as a fence or shed. The photo, or photos, might have been enlarged, she was told. There also might be riding trails shown in them, and perhaps a sign indicating danger in front of one of the trails. Investigators were also going through everything found in Willet's apartment, hoping to find an actual spent bullet and casing.

Liz had a feeling that something important could emerge from this hopelessly cluttered object.

She welcomed every chance she got to be at crime scenes because she loved the process of collecting evidence, and had arrived at the Zach Willet home shortly after the initial forensic team.

She was certain that the collage would be a perfect place to secrete a picture or any small object that might otherwise be easily discovered in a drawer or file.

The tape on the pictures and notes was cracked and dry, and easily separated from the corkboard that Zach had inserted for backing. Soon she had neat stacks of pictures around the frame. Liz got a kick out of reading the first several notes of congratulation: ”Here's to another 25, Zach;” ”Ride 'em cowboy;” ”Happy trails to you.” She quickly got into a routine of glancing at them as she removed them, one by one.

It seemed to be turning into a useless exercise. Liz continued until only the caricature itself remained in the frame. It had been drawn in crayon on heavy cardboard, and was tacked rather than taped to the corkboard. Might as well take this one off, too, Liz thought. When she removed it, she turned the caricature over; taped to the back was a sealed 5-by-8 envelope. Liz decided to have a witness when she opened it.

She went down the hall to the prosecutor's office. The door was open and Jeff MacKingsley was standing at the window, stretching.

”Mr. MacKingsley, can I show you something?”

”Sure, Liz, what is it?”

”This envelope was taped behind that caricature of Zach Willet.”

Jeff looked from the envelope to Liz and back to the envelope. ”If this is what I hope it is...” he said. Without finis.h.i.+ng the sentence, he went to his desk and got a letter opener from the drawer. He slit the tape, opened the envelope and shook it. Two metal objects clanked onto his desk.

Jeff reached into the envelope and pulled out a handwritten letter and a half dozen photographs.

The first one was a close-up showing a bony hand pointing to a tree in which a bullet was clearly embedded. A newspaper was positioned below the hole to display the date-May 9th- and the year, which was the year Will Barton had died. A second picture, taken from the newspaper on that date, showed Ted Cartwright proudly displaying his pistol.

A two-page letter, neatly printed but filled with misspellings, and addressed to ”Whoever it could concern,” contained Zach's graphic yet oddly dignified description of how he had watched Will Barton die.

He described how Ted Cartwright, on his powerful horse, had charged the high-strung mare that the nervous and inexperienced Will Barton was riding. He related watching Ted's horse force the mare onto the dangerous trail. After she got close to the edge of the cliff, he saw Ted fire the shot that caused the panicking horse to bolt, sending both the horse and its doomed rider into the fatal plunge.

Jeff turned to Liz. ”Good work. This is enormously important, and just might be the break we need.”

Liz left Jeff's office, delighted with the prosecutor's reaction to the evidence she had found.

As Jeff stood alone, realizing that everything Celia had told him was true, he was interrupted again as Investigator Nan Newman rushed into his office. ”Boss, you're not going to believe this. Rap Corrigan, the kid who found Zach Willet's body, came in to meet with me and give a statement. While he was there, Ted Cartwright came into the outer office with his attorney. Rap did a double-take when he saw Cartwright, and practically pulled me down the hall to talk to me.

”Jeff, Rap swears that Ted Cartwright, minus a dopey looking blond wig, is one of the two so-called moving men he let into Zach Willet's apartment yesterday.”

CHAPTER 76.

Ted Cartwright was dressed in an impeccably tailored dark blue suit, a light blue s.h.i.+rt with French cuffs, and a red and blue tie. With his crown of white hair, piercing blue eyes, and imposing carriage, he was every inch the powerful executive as he strode ahead of his lawyer into Jeff's office.

Seated behind his desk, Jeff calmly observed the arrival and deliberately waited until Cartwright and his lawyer were standing in front of him before he got up. He did not offer to shake the hand of either man, but indicated the chairs that were pulled close to the desk.

As witnesses to this meeting, Jeff had invited Detectives Angelo Ortiz and Paul Walsh, who were already seated in chairs to the side of the prosecutor. The court reporter was in place, her face expressionless as always. It had been said of Louise Bentley that even if she had recorded the confession of Jack the Ripper, she would not have allowed a single muscle of her face to show reaction.

Cartwright's attorney introduced himself. ”Prosecutor MacKingsley, I am Louis Buch, and I am counsel to Mr. Theodore Cartwright. I wish to state for the record that my client is extremely distressed by the death of Zach Willet, and has, in response to the request of your office, appeared here today voluntarily and with the strong desire to a.s.sist you in any way in your investigation of Mr. Willet's death.”

His face impa.s.sive, Jeff MacKingsley looked at Ted. ”How long have you known Zach Willet, Mr. Cartwright?”

”Oh, I think about twenty years,” Ted answered.

”Think again, Mr. Cartwright. Isn't it well over thirty years?”

”Twenty, thirty.” Cartwright shrugged. ”A very long time, whichever it is, don't you agree?”

”Would you say you were friends?”

Ted hesitated. ”It depends on how you define friends.h.i.+p. I knew Zach. I liked him. I love horses and he was a natural with them. I admired his skill at handling them. On the other hand, it wouldn't occur to me to invite him to my home for dinner, or really socialize with him in any way.”