“Sure, how else would I know?”
“You tell me.”
The staring contest continued, until Joe lost his patience.
“Look, Sergeant Dillon, you can start telling me the truth, or I am going to pick up the phone and call Internal Affairs.”
Dillon shrugged his shoulders. “You can call whoever you want.”
Joe stood up and walked over to the office door. Opening it, he stood holding the door handle like a hotel doorman waiting for a particularly slow guest to make up his mind, whether he was leaving or staying. Dillon was still sitting in the chair, his eyes darting from left to right, from the desktop to the door and back to the desk.
“Look, I don’t know what you want from me!”
“Try the truth. You weren’t on duty. What made you leave your warm home, get on a boat, and go to Chebeague?”
“I got a call from the deputy chief. All right? I was doing him a favour!”
Joe repressed a smile, and closing the door, he returned to his desk.
“When?”
Dillon pulled a notepad out of his jacket pocket and briskly flicked through the pages.
“Sunday 03, November 2013, 10:25 am.”
“Didn’t that strike you as strange?”
Dillon looked at him, confused.
“The gardener called 9-1-1 at 10:15 am, to report finding the bodies. How did the Deputy Chief of the New York Police know about the deaths so quickly?”
“How should I know?”
“I repeat, didn’t it strike you as strange?”
“No—I mean, I never gave it much thought. Look, I know we didn’t do this by the book, but what’s your beef? They were accidental deaths.”
Joe didn’t answer him, instead just stared back and coughed into a closed fist.
“You mean, you think it was homicide?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be stupid, who would want to kill a family using a boiler?”
“We have found the signs of a struggle, and one of the victims had some DNA under their fingernails that doesn’t match any of the family members.”
“I don’t believe it. You can’t think Frank had something to do with this? You’re mad!”
“What did he ask you to do?”
“Nothing, Nothing special, I mean. He told me it was a sensitive case, for diplomatic reasons. The guy who died was important, his father is high up in the Indian government. Their religion meant that their bodies must be buried within a few days of death. Frank said he was getting pressure from above. He was worried that it would all get held up in forensics. You know how it is.”
“So whose idea was it to send them to the local hospital?”
“That was my idea. I mean, I know what that bitch in Augusta is like.” His eyes hit the floor when he saw that Joe obviously did not hold the same opinion of the county examiner.
“Frank just wanted to get it all sorted, without too much fuss. It was cut and dried—the poor bastards died in their sleep. That gas is a killer, you know. I checked my own boiler when I got back to the house.”
It was plain that Dillon was now fighting to get to grips with this new information. Joe wondered if he should have told him. But he was pretty sure that sending the bodies to the hospital was the sum of his involvement. Of course, he would have to report the case to Internal Affairs, whether he liked it or not. Dillon would be reprimanded, but the main investigation would centre on his cousin, Deputy Chief Frank Hanson. Dillon raised his head, a pained look in his eyes.
“You don’t think this had anything to do with his suicide, do you?”
“That will certainly be one of the lines of inquiry, Officer Dillon.”
18
The house looked like nothing from the outside. Painted white, with a flat roof, it was difficult to get an idea of its size. Petersen had greeted them at the front door, with a handshake and a Scandinavian accent that Lisa loved. He was about Michael’s age, tall with short blond hair and a muscular physique, but despite his good looks and his artful manipulation of the English language, there was something cold about him. He was aloof, avoiding any questions not directly concerning the house.
Maybe he was still suffering after the breakup from his wife, Lisa wondered.
As Petersen led them through the house, both men could see that Lisa was blown away.
“Do you like it?” Petersen asked.
“Like it? It’s beautiful. Who did the decoration?”
Lisa regretted the words before they left her mouth.
“My wife. She has a thing for interior design.”
“Oh, me too.”
The men looked at one another, swapping a knowing look.
The large entrance had a dark wooden floor, pale cream walls, and an antique table sat by the wall in front of a tall free-standing mirror in a silver frame. On the table was a large glass vase, with the most gorgeous imitation flowers. Tree branches formed the backbone of the decoration supporting the delicate stems. Sastre crisscrossed six pear boughs and weaved in hydrangea and lisianthus, as well as lady’s mantle. The colours complemented one another perfectly, while contrasting the subdued colours of the entrance. The flowers’ stems seemed to be bathed in water, but at closer inspection, Lisa could see that this was a trick. The vase had been painted on the inside to give the water effect. The lounge had a pale carpet and large bay windows leading out into the generous garden. Two large, dark brown leather sofas were positioned around an open fireplace, next to which an antique cabinet held the television behind closed doors. More flowers decorated the dining table, matching the colours of the wallpaper that covered just the main wall, which stretched from the door to the entrance hall, all the way to the windows. The other walls had been left white, showing off large original landscapes, framed in gold and hung under individual copper spotlights.
“It is beautiful. And the furnishings are just lovely.”
“I am glad you like it. I have been living in Munich since my separation. You are very welcome to stay here, if you wish?”
“I beg your pardon, move in now?”
Lisa’s eyes shot to Michael.
“This is all a bit quick,” Michael said. “I will need time to think about it before I make any commitments.”
“No, no, you misunderstand, you are welcome to stay here while you’re deciding. For a modest rent, of course. It would be infinitely more comfortable than the company flat. If you decide to take it, great, if not, that is also okay.”
“Well, that’s very generous of you, Mr Petersen. We will certainly consider it.”
“Oh, come on, Michael, what have we got to lose?”
Michael smiled at her, and Lisa knew he would relent.
“After all, I am making a lot of sacrifices for this move!”
The Munich motorway from Starnberg was almost free of traffic, demonstrating another virtue of the Petersen Property. They were back in the city apartment within thirty minutes of leaving the house. The viewing had taken longer than expected, and it didn’t leave them much time to make their next appointment. They had been invited to dinner with Lisa’s new boss, Steve Walker.
They were supposed to meet at an upmarket restaurant named Käfer in the south of the city. It was just a short distance from the underground station, so they decided to leave the car and take the train. Hurriedly, they washed and changed, scattering the temporary bedroom with clothes and towels. Excited by the day’s events, they chatted all the way to the restaurant. Lisa was keen to keep up the pressure on Michael, and by the time they arrived at the restaurant, it had been agreed that they would move into the Starnberg House. Their furniture would go into storage until their final decision, but Lisa was already thinking of making the Petersens an offer for some of their furniture. Although she had not shared this titbit of information with Michael yet.