“Just a few inconsistencies, that’s all. You and Valerie were old friends. How did you meet?”
“We were at high school together, then we both went to UBC. We shared an apartment in Kitsilano.”
“So you knew her pretty well?”
“As well as one could know Valerie.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She wasn’t exactly an open book, you know.”
“She had secrets?”
“We all have secrets. Valerie could make the most innocent thing into a secret. It was her nature to be mysterious, enigmatic. And she liked to be in control, liked to have the upper hand. She needed to feel that, ultimately, if the walls came tumbling down, she’d be safe, she’d have an escape route.”
“Didn’t work this time,” I said.
Jacqui wiped away a tear. “No.”
“Who told her about your affair with her husband?”
Jacqui looked shocked, and I was beginning to feel more and more that I was being treated to her repertoire of faces. She was good. “Do we have to talk about that?”
“I’m trying to help Tony.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I don’t know how she found out. I’m sure nobody knew about us.”
“What happened when the two of you went to the washroom?”
“Nothing. We just talked it out, that’s all. Sort of made up.”
“Sort of?”
“I told her I’d end it with Tony. She was still upset, but she accepted my word.”
“Would finishing with Tony have been difficult for you?”
“A little, perhaps. But it’s not as if we were in love or anything.”
“So it was just an affair? A fling?”
“Yes. Oh, don’t sound so disapproving. We’re both adults. And it’s not as if I was the first.”
“Tony had other affairs?”
“Of course.”
“Did Valerie know?”
“She never said anything to me.”
“Are you sure you don’t plan to go on seeing Tony now that Valerie is conveniently out of the way?”
“I don’t like what you’re implying. I’ve lost a very good friend. There’s nothing ‘convenient’ about that.”
“A good friend whose husband you stole.”
“I didn’t steal him. Don’t be so melodramatic. These things happen all the time.”
“Where did you go after you left the restaurant that night, Jacqui?”
“I came here. Scott and Ginny dropped me off. They’ll tell you.”
“Did you visit Tony and Valerie’s house often?”
“Sometimes.”
“When was the last time?”
“About a month ago. They had a barbeque. We were all there. Me, Ray, Ginny, Scott.”
“So you knew the ravine well enough?”
“We all went for a walk there, yes, but look—”
“And you had plenty of time to get back out to the Beach the night Valerie was killed, if you wanted to.”
“I don’t drive.”
“There are taxis.”
“They’d have records.”
“Maybe. But Valerie would have let you in the back door, no problem, wouldn’t she?”
“What are you talking about? Why should I go to the back door?”
“So you wouldn’t be seen from the street. Because you went with the intent of killing Valerie. You just didn’t know that Tony would get the blame. When you found out he was in the shower and Valerie was alone, you seized the opportunity and killed her.”
Jacqui stood up, hands on hips. “This is ridiculous. On the one hand you’re saying I went there with the intention of killing Valerie, which is absurd, and on the other hand you accuse me of seizing the moment. Which is it? It can’t be both. Look, I don’t want to talk to you anymore. You’re not a real policeman. You can’t make me.”
She was right. I had no special powers. Standing, I reached in my pocket for the key. “Recognize this?” I asked.
She looked at it, pouting. “No.”
“It’s a safety-deposit key,” I told her. “Were you ever aware of Valerie having a safety-deposit box?”
“No. But I told you she could be very secretive.”
“Any idea what she might have kept in it if she had one?”
“I don’t know. Money? Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got more packing to do.”
Jacqui’s response to the whole safety-deposit-box issue was just a bit too rushed and casual for my liking. I followed her to the door trying to decide whether I believed her or not. I wasn’t sure. The problem was that Jacqui Prior wasn’t a WYSIWYG sort of woman. Tony Caldwell had called her complicated, but in a way she struck me as shallow, empty without the role to assume, the correct expression to wear or gesture to make. As I rode the elevator down to my car, I found myself wondering if I was being manipulated. Just how much did Jacqui and Tony’s affair have to do with what happened to Valerie? In my mind’s eye, I saw myself as Charles Laughton riding his stairlift in Witness for the Prosecution. Had they planned it between the two of them, I wondered, and was my getting Tony off part of their plan? Was I being used in their game?
If Tony Caldwell or Jacqui Prior hadn’t murdered Valerie, then who else might have done it? Discounting the passing-tramp theory, my money was still on one of the dinner guests: Jacqui, Ray Dasgupta, Scott and Ginny Schneider. Valerie would have let any one of those four in the back door. But which one? And why? And what part did the safety-deposit box play? Maybe I would find out something from the others who’d been at dinner that night.
5
I found both Scott and Ginny Schneider in the office of their modeling agency just off Spadina, in the garment district. On the surface, Scott seemed very much the outgoing, charming type, while Ginny was more reserved. They were both in their late thirties, and I’d guess from her cheekbones that Ginny had probably been a model herself in the not-too-distant past. Her husband looked more like a trendy stockbroker in casual business attire.
“I thought the police had settled the matter of Valerie’s death,” Scott said.
“They’ve arrested Tony Caldwell, if that’s what you mean,” I said. “But that doesn’t settle anything.”
“How so?”
“I’m just not convinced. I understand Valerie worked for you?”
“She helped out sometimes, yes. She’d been a model herself, and quite a good one, too, so she was able to work with some of the girls and with the clients, help us with our selections. It’s an important part of the business, and it can be very tricky, matching the model to the product.”
“Was anything bothering her around the time of her death?”
“Her husband’s affair with Jacqui Prior, I should imagine.”
“Did she talk to you about that?”
“No. We only found out at the dinner, along with everyone else.”
“You, too?” I asked Ginny.
“Yes.”
“And were you surprised?”
“Naturally,” said Scott, looking over at his wife. “We both were.”
“Do you have any idea how Valerie knew?”
“I’m afraid not. We certainly didn’t tell her.”
“Well, you couldn’t tell her if you didn’t know yourselves, could you? You must have worked closely with Jacqui, though. Did she ever let anything slip?”
“Nothing. Look, Mr. Lang, I’m very sorry about Tony and everything. I’ve known him for a number of years and count him as a good friend as well as a business colleague, but don’t you think the police know what they’re about? He and Valerie did have a terrific row — we all witnessed that — and not long afterwards, she was dead. It makes sense. Any one of us could snap under pressure like that.”
“Indeed we could,” I said. “Any one of us. Where did you go after you left the restaurant?”