“What did you do then?”
“I stayed with the family. And soon after you appeared, I excused myself. Can I ask a question?”
“Please,” said Ray.
“How was Malcolm killed? Elliott said something about him being stabbed.”
“I’ll know more when I get the autopsy results, but that’s essentially correct. You seem to be extremely aware of what was going on in Mr. Wudbine’s world. Was there anyone who had a motive to kill him, anyone in his professional life, his personal life, or his family?”
“Sheriff, I’ve thought about that a lot. I didn’t sleep much last night, and I’ve been consumed by that question all day. The answer is no.” She paused, brushing aside loose hairs again, and continued, “However, this clearly wasn’t a random act. Sheriff, my primary job here was to look after Mr. Wudbine’s personal security. Obviously, I failed. Yet, I don’t think I could have done anything differently. He was the employer, he dictated the terms of the security envelope I provided for him. When he was in the colony, he often wanted to be solo. That was especially true with rehearsals. I wish I had more for you, but I don’t.”
“I’ll probably need to talk to you again. What are your immediate plans?”
“Jill Wudbine has asked me to continue in their employment for at least the next month. I will be staying in the area as long as she is here.”
“You were awfully quiet,” said Ray to Sue as they watched Alyson Mickels march up the sand trail.
“Sometimes I just want to observe. It’s hard for me to watch for nuances if I’m concentrating on forming questions.”
“So what did you see?”
“Mickels checked you out. I won’t say she undressed you—sorry, no such luck boss, but she did take in everything. Then she looked me over carefully. I was quickly surveyed. You were carefully examined. I was amazed by the way Mickels mapped the room, her so-called ‘environmental scan.’ I’ve never seen such discipline and focus. She was listening to your questions and always took a few seconds after each one to formulate her response. And before her words were out of her mouth, she was anticipating your next question. I suspect, and I’m using her parlance here, she was doing a ‘threat analysis.’”
“So you think she’s involved?” asked Ray.
“I didn’t say that. But she certainly wants to know where she’s going to end up in this whole affair. At a minimum, she hopes that she’s not going to be pulled into anything that will tarnish her reputation or damage her employability.”
“And at a maximum?”
“I’m not ready to speculate on that. She could have delivered the fatal thrust to Wudbine with a dull teaspoon. Mickels is a trained killer who knows we are going to be giving her a close look, so she’s carefully weighing her options. She wants to come out of this unscathed.” Sue looked at her watch. “I know you like to have a second set of ears, but I’ve got some things that need to be done.”
“Fine, what are you up to?”
“I want to see if I can lift any fingerprints from the main shutoff switch. There are also backstage areas I want to look at again. We focused on the trash because it was going away. Now I want to attend to other areas I skipped over like the carpentry shop, lots of old tools tossed in boxes and drawers in no order. Then there’s the kitchen area with a variety of sharp things. And using the playbill and the other names we’ve collected so far, I’ll start checking for priors or outstanding warrants and also see if Wudbine was currently subject to any litigation. E-mail me the audio files of the next two interviews, and I’ll listen to them sometime this evening. When we meet tomorrow at 7:00, we’ll be on the same page.”
“I didn’t say anything about meeting at 7:00.”
“You didn’t need to.”
23
The first thing Ray picked up on as Pepper Markley carefully settled in her chair was her perfume, subtle, not cloying, but distinct and impossible to miss.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Struggling. The initial shock, too little sleep, just trying to come to grips with the whole thing.”
“How long have you been with the Wudbines?” Ray looked at her closely. He guessed that Pepper was about thirty. She appeared exhausted, but also very wary. Her dress was preppy, her hair skillfully cut and shaped.
“This is the start of my third and was probably going to be my last year.”
“Last?”
“Working for Mr. Wudbine was a 24/7 arrangement. I am paid extremely well, multiples of what would be usual for this type of position, but I don’t have much of a life. It was about time to move on.”
“No vacations?”
“I was supposed to get a month each year, subject to Mr. Wudbine’s schedule. It never seemed to work out. Like this June, I was going to take several weeks of vacation, but ended up serving as an administrative assistant to Elliott Wudbine when he visited clients in Asia and Europe. The person who usually accompanies Elliott was very pregnant, so I was pressed into service. That was unusual, I’d never worked for Elliott before. Elliott was a lot less demanding than his father. Mr. Wudbine worked day and night, didn’t sleep much, and expected those who worked for him to be available at his beck and call.”
“And your job title?”
“My contract reads concierge. Let me explain. I became an intern at Wudbine Investments right out of graduate school. After six months I was offered a full-time position to continue doing all the things I was assigned during my internship. When it came to giving me a contract, the HR director didn’t know exactly what title my position should have. She had heard about some high-tech firms employing concierges and decided the term best described my work assignments.”
“So what do you do?”
“Anything and everything. My major task is looking after his calendar and each item connected with that—travel and lodging arrangements, restaurant reservations, tickets for cultural and sporting events, and scheduling the corporate jet. Mr. Wudbine often made it available to his political friends. There were related secretarial duties, also. And Mr. Wudbine demanded that his coffee be prepared in a specific way. I was a barista in college. I probably got this job because of the coffee.
Ray did his best to suppress a smile.
“And then there were the flowers. Mr. Wudbine wanted fresh-cut flowers in every room. Gull House and the home in Kenilworth have greenhouses and gardeners, so we produce some of the flowers we use. I also acquire additional stock from commercial sources. You might say I run a small florist operation.”
“Do you do things for other members of the household?”
“Mr. Wudbine worked very closely with his daughter-in-law, Jill. I primarily worked for the two of them, and also occasionally for Elliott.”
“How about Mr. Wudbine’s wife, Brenda?”
“During my tenure she hasn’t been around much. I don’t think I’m giving out any secrets to tell you that Brenda is a hopeless alcoholic, an embarrassment, really. I’m sure you noticed her condition last night. She’s either at Betty Ford or a health spa in Arizona, that’s were she spends most of the winter. Brenda also has a serious heart condition. The spa has special diets and exercise for heart patients.
“Brenda hates Chicago, she’s almost never there. She does like it up here. Shows up in the spring and stays until early September. I think it’s the only time the two of them are in residence together for an extended amount of time. When she’s up here, she takes over the flower arranging, something she did earlier in their marriage. I still look after the inventory and ordering.”
“Yesterday, please outline where you were from…let’s say midday until after the murder?”
“Like I was telling you, Mr. Wudbine worked seven days a week starting early in the morning and sometimes running into the evening. Yesterday was just another workday. He had several major projects going for the foundation, new initiatives for the fall. He had a long planning meeting with Jill in the morning. So I spent my morning with them. We had a working lunch. I spent the afternoon organizing the material we had developed during the morning. Then I went to the beach for about an hour, came back, showered, grabbed a quick dinner, and headed for the theater. I did a walking meditation, trying to get in the head of my character.”