He stood back and looked at the BMW. "One thing I'm curious about, is how you can afford this car?"
She put her nose in the air as she walked toward the front door. "I don't think that's any of your business."
"Yes, it is the police's business, Mrs. Conners. We're doing a murder investigation and I know your financial status even after the insurance settlement. You can't afford this car. Where did it come from?"
She stood at the entrance and glared at him. "It's a gift."
"Mighty expensive gift. Who from?"
"From the Nevers Company. Guess they felt bad that Ryan got murdered on their property."
"I see. Who transacted the purchase?"
"Mr. Weber. You can talk to him about the details."
"I plan to." Tom shifted on his feet, then looked straight into her eyes. "Tell me, Mrs. Conners. Aren't you curious about the death of your husband?"
She jerked her gaze away and fumbled with her keys. The two little girls clung to her leg. One started to whimper. "I have to get the children inside and down for a nap. You'll have to excuse me now."
"You didn't answer my question, Mrs. Conners. Don't you wonder who killed your husband?"
She shoved the two crying girls inside, then poked her head out the door. "No! Detective Hoffman, I don't care." Then she slammed the door in his face.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Autumn watched through the peephole until the detective drove away. Then she slumped against the door. "Why do the police keep coming around?" She hammered her fist against the door. "Why can't you leave me alone, you bastards? I'm not going to tell you anything."
*****
The woman's behavior baffled Tom. But, he had to hand it to her; she told the truth about the car. Cliff had her pegged; she was definitely hiding something. And as long as Ken Weber was her benefactor, her lips would stay sealed. His intuition kept kicking at him. So what the hell am I overlooking?
He arrived back at the station and poked his head into Cliff's office. "You're right, Cliff. She's covering up. But what?" He shrugged. "She's got me baffled"
Cliff pushed unruly hair behind his ears and replaced his cap. "We'll just keep digging. Something's got to surface soon."
Tom waved. "I'm out of here early. Angie invited me to dinner."
Cliff shook his head. "Man, some of us get all the breaks. What I wouldn't give for a home-cooked meal."
Tom grinned. "I'll see what I can do about getting an invite for you next time."
When Tom arrived at the Nevers' home, Sandy's appearance surprised him. "You look great."
She smiled. "I'm almost back to normal. Now, if only Ken would straighten out and act like himself."
He didn't respond to the comment as they gathered around the dinner table. About midway through the meal, Tom glanced at Angie. "How well do you know Ryan Conners' wife?"
"Autumn?"
"Yes."
"Not well. I've only met her a couple of times. She and Ryan were a strange couple and kept very much to themselves. They seldom went to the company's functions."
Tom nodded. "I gathered that much from interviewing her."
"I went with Ken one time to their home," Sandy intervened. "He had to pick up a report or something. And I can verify she's not what you'd call a housekeeper. The place reeked. It's no wonder Ryan had the reputation of staying at the office long hours."
"Bud told me she's quite brilliant when it comes to computers," Angie said. "The idea of developing the computer program that would copy a person's own handwriting came from her and motivated Bud to talk with the company's technicians. They got real excited about the project. It wasn't long before they had it up and running. That program made a killing for us."
Tom thought about the suicide message written in Conners' handwriting. "Conners must have had the program on his computer."
"If I'm not mistaken," Angie said, "all the computers at the company have it installed."
"Makes sense." Tom leaned back in his chair. "Did the company give any compensation to Autumn?"
"Yes, they did," Sandy said. "I remember Ken mentioning it. They set up something like a royalty where she received a small percentage of each program sold. I'm not sure if it was on a monthly or yearly basis. It would be in the records."
"Then, with her brains, why didn't she go to work when Ryan lost all that money in the stock market instead of his embezzling from the company? Doesn't make sense."
"Good question," Angie said, taking a sip of wine. "Have you talked to her?"
"Yes. This afternoon, but I didn't mention the embezzlement. Not ready to go into that with her just yet." Then he told them about her new car. "Did you sign for that expenditure, Angie?"
A look of surprise crossed her face. "No. Should I have?"
"Well, it seems until everything is settled within the company that you should have some say about the company's expenses. Maybe I'm wrong, but I wouldn't think Ken had full say so on all things."
"Maybe I better check with the corporate lawyers."
"I think that's a good idea."
Angie and Tom glanced at Sandy.
"Don't worry about talking in front of me. Ken's not himself. He's liable to do several dumb things before he gets his head on straight. I've accepted that now. I just wish I knew how to help him."
"Have you seen or talked to him since you've been out of the hospital?" Tom asked.
Sandy shook her head.
Shortly after dinner, Tom left and decided to drop in on Ken Weber. He reported to Cliff where he'd be.
"Be careful," Cliff warned. "That guy's a powder keg, just ready to blow."
"Yeah, I know. But, maybe he'll talk one on one. We used to be friends. I don't know if that still holds true or not. But I want to give it a try."
"Good luck. Call me when you're out of there."
"Will do."
When Tom pulled up in front of the Weber home, he saw Ken's car in the garage. Not sure how he'd be received, Tom stepped hesitantly upon the front porch and rung the bell, prepared to leave if Ken ordered him off the property. But to his surprise, Ken shook his hand and invited him inside.
"I hope this is a friendly visit and not business?"
"Well, I guess you can say friendly and to satisfy my curiosity. Nothing will be on record."
"That's good. It's been a bit lonely around here. I can honestly say, it's good to see you, Tom. I'm assuming you're making this visit on your own time, so what can I fix you to drink?"
Tom followed Ken into the large recreation room, decorated quite differently from his office at work. The furniture consisted of two huge couches with lots of throw pillows of all sizes.
A large television screen and stereo equipment occupied one whole end. He also spotted two telephones, one on each side of the room. Teenagers definitely lived here. A huge, well-stocked wet bar with leather-covered stools covered the opposite end. Ken had soft classical music playing which Tom couldn't identify, but thought pleasant for background music.
"So what brings you here?" Ken asked, settling on one of the couches.