“We live in a global economy, Sheriff. We have competitors in distant places, barbarous societies, people who don’t play by the same business rules we follow. Perhaps that’s where you will find your killer. And then there’s the current political climate, all this chatter about the concentration of wealth. This might have been a hate crime precipitated by class envy.” Wudbine’s answers were delivered in her characteristic monotone.
Without commenting, Ray handed several sheets of paper to her. “There you will find a transcript of our conversation on Sunday. I’ve highlighted the parts that deal with your recollections of what happened while you were in the theater. Please read your statement and see if there are any additions or changes you would like to make.”
Ray sat and watched her read through the transcript, first scanning, and then going over the highlighted areas a second and third time.
“No, Sheriff, I have nothing to add or change. That said, I was thinking about Pepper, just as an example, of course. I saw her early on. She must have been one of the first people there. Then later we were onstage together. And I didn’t see her again after her exit, well, until the lights came on. I can remember seeing her wander in from the makeup area when Grubbs was telling us what had happened.
“I’m not trying to suggest that Pepper might have been involved in this crime. But if she had a murderous intent, it would have been so easy to hide somewhere on the far side of the stage waiting for Malcolm to…well you know the rest. And again, I’m not trying to implicate Pepper in any way. What I’m trying to tell you is that you’re asking questions that are impossible to answer. People were constantly moving about. At best, they might remember where they were, but to give you reliable information on anyone else, impossible. You are wasting your time. And now to an important issue, when will my father-in-law’s body be released for burial?”
“Soon,” Ray responded.
“Patchouli oil, do you know what patchouli oil smells like?” asked Sue as she came into the library building, the screen door slamming behind her.
Ray looked up from his screen. “Patch…what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You sound sort of crabby. What’s going on?”
“Jill Wudbine.”
“Oh, I just saw her. Remarkable woman. I don’t know how you can pass someone on a narrow sand trail without making eye contact. Do you remember what she smelled like?”
Ray gave Sue a long look, “What’s going on?”
“Patchouli. It’s a scent, or more correctly, an aromatic oil.”
“I’m totally lost. So put all this together for me.”
“I was just interviewing Tom Lea.”
“How did it go?”
“Couldn’t have been better. When Tom is on his meds, he mostly makes sense. And fortunately, there were no interrupting cell calls from the great beyond.”
“So tell me about this Patch…?”
“Patchouli. We know that Tom was lurking around the auditorium trying to get in to see the play with his personally created ticket. When that didn’t work, he watched through an open window until the rain got so heavy that he took refuge under the picnic shelter. From there he had a perfect view of the back of the building. He said he saw someone open the doors on the electrical cabinet, and then the light on the side of the building went out. He’s sure it was a woman because of the shape of her raincoat. As this person was leaving the area, she stopped briefly under the shelter to light a cigarette. Tom says the scent of patchouli oil was in the air after she came through.”
“He’s sure?”
“He claims to have some expertise in aromatherapy, something his mother verified.”
“Where do we get some of …?”
“Patchouli oil. I imagine we can find some in Traverse City. That’s a good assignment for our summer intern. But there’s something more. Before the patchouli-scented woman passed through, there were two others who used the shelter. The first arrived just after Tom got there, a woman driving a golf cart. A few minutes later a man arrived. Tom said there was a lot of kissing going on. Hollywood-style kissing, that’s what he called it. The kind you see in movies. Then they disappeared.”
“Did someone come back for the cart?”
“He didn’t know. Said he left shortly after the patchouli lady came through.”
“So where does this leave us?” asked Ray.
“We know that Alyson Mickels parked a cart under the picnic shelter. She told us that. So who was the man? Elliott Wudbine? And if it were the two of them, where did they go next? Were they involved in the murder or were they going off to find a place that offered greater privacy?”
“So we need to talk to Elliott and Alyson again,” responded Ray. “And the woman wearing patchouli, your nose is better than mine. I don’t remember coming in contact with anyone wearing excessive amounts of perfume the last few days. You know it usually gets me sneezing.”
“How about when we were talking to Brenda Wudbine?”
“Roses, carnations, and gin. I didn’t sense anything else. Did you?”
“No. But you know I’m Ms. Wash and Wear. I don’t own any perfume. I’ll get our intern, Barbara Sinclair, headed over to TC. I bet there’s someone at central dispatch who can guide her to a source for patchouli oil. When she returns, we’ll see if….”
“But what if Tom Lea is wrong about the scent?” asked Ray, standing, putting his hand on the small of his back, and stretching from side to side.
“Then we look for Hollywood-type kissers.”
“How much faith do we put in Tom Lea?”
“We use the information carefully and see if some truth follows.”
“I like that. Elliott should be here next. Stick around, I may need your help.”
41
“Fast trip to Chicago,” Ray observed, looking across the table at Elliott Wudbine.
“Too fast. But my employees deserved to know exactly what happened. They heard lots of rumors. We must begin planning what to tell our clients. This will be a very difficult period. Our customers have to believe that we can manage their investments with greater skill than our competitors. While my father has not been involved in the day-to-day operations of the firm for years, our client base believed that his legendary knowledge of the industry still guided our investment strategies. Now we have to reassure them that nothing will change, that we will handle their money in the same competent manner.
“And I should tell you, Sheriff, from this point forward for the foreseeable future I will have to be in Chicago. So if there are any bits of information that you still need from me, better try to get them now. I probably won’t be back in the area again for several weeks, depending of course, on where we decide to have the memorial service.”
“Just a few things, Mr. Wudbine. First, now that some time has passed, and you’ve had an opportunity to think about the events of last Saturday, I was wondering if you had some new speculations on who might have killed your father?”
“No. I have no idea. Like I told you, my father was an outstanding human being. His murder is beyond comprehension. Although it seems quite improbable, I somehow think that this was a random act. Anyone who really knew my father wouldn’t have done something like this.”
“We are trying to establish where everyone was near the time of your father’s murder.” Ray placed several sheets of paper in front of Elliott. “This is a transcript of our conversation on Sunday. Feel free to read the whole document, but I especially want to call your attention to the highlighted material. You said that you were in the theater until the end of the scene.”
Elliott pulled a pair of reading glasses from his shirt pocket and looked through the pages, paying special attention to the lines that Ray had marked with a yellow highlighter. After a few minutes Elliott looked up.
“Is the highlighted material consistent with your memory of the events?” asked Ray.