“Did you tell the police your suspicions?” asked A.J.
“Sure. They didn’t exactly tell me that everyone said the same thing, but I got the impression that a lot of people have trouble accepting a suicide verdict.”
Elysia meditatively tapped one polished fingernail on the glass-topped table. “Was your sister involved with anyone? Sometimes when romances end badly a person can experience an emotional low.”
“Ha!” At Mart’s harsh laugh the birds in the feeder took flight in bright flashes of color. “Not Peg. She wasn’t the sentimental kind. Oh, she had her disappointing affaires de coeur, but she wasn’t the kind of person to sit around brooding and feeling sorry for herself. No, she did her best to get even with the little ba-creep.”
A.J. had to admire that skilful look of attentive inquiry from Elysia.
“He was an artiste,” Mart said. She waved her hands as though playing pat-a-cake. “A sculptor. You know the kind of thing. Nudes that look like Buddhas and sumo wrestlers. My grandkids do a better job with Play-Doh. She should have known better at her age.”
“What happened?”
“What you’d expect. She paid a fortune for art classes she didn’t need and art supplies she never used. Why not, anyway? They were both consenting adults.”
“Why not, indeed,” murmured Elysia.
“But Peggy fell in love?” A.J. suggested.
Both Elysia and Mart snickered. “Bless your heart,” Mart said. “No, babycakes. Nothing like that. Oh, she was fond of the kid, I guess, but it was just a holiday romance. Except at home. You know the kind of thing.”
Elysia sighed and nodded wisely, auditioning for the part of Woman of the World.
“I don’t think she gave him another thought once it was over and she was busy with her friends and charity work. But then the letters started.”
“What kind of letters?” The penny dropped. “Blackmail?”
“Smart girl,” Mart said to Elysia. “Yes, blackmail. There were pictures. Graphic pictures-and plenty of them. Well, Peg was furious, but what could she do? She had her name and position to think of. Not that Peg really cared about that kind of thing, but you know how people can be. She was on a lot of committees with a lot of stuffed shirts who would have taken a dim view of any hanky-panky.”
“How was she approached? E-mail? Snail mail?”
“Yes. Real mail. The letters were sent from Hamburg and the payments were made to a post office box in Newton.”
“Newton,” Elysia said quickly.
“It’s the county seat,” A.J. pointed out. “We can’t make too much of that.”
“Where did she meet this boy?”
At the same time, A.J. asked, “Did they meet on a cruise by any chance?”
“No.” Mart sounded sure. “No, Peggy never went on a cruise. She was deathly afraid of water. To be honest, I can’t remember where she said she met him.”
“Where did your sister get her hair styled?” Elysia asked.
“Oh that overpriced place in Newton. The Salon or whatever they call it.”
A.J. and Elysia exchanged looks.
“Did she approach this boy after the blackmail began?”
“Ohhhh yes,” Mart said with grim satisfaction. “Did she ever. And she kept approaching him.” She laughed heartily. “He claimed he wasn’t blackmailing her. That it was nothing to do with him. He was romancing some other rich widow by then, and Peg did her best to stick a spoke in that wheel.”
“Did she try approaching the woman directly?”
“No. I asked her about that. She said it wouldn’t do any good. The woman wouldn’t believe her or was too crazy about the kid to care-and Peg hadn’t paid fifty thousand dollars to protect her good name just to reveal it to some stranger who was old enough to know better.”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” A.J. repeated weakly. “What about those blackmail payments? Did your sister ever try to find who was picking them up from the post office box? Whether it was this boy or not?”
Mart said slowly, “I don’t know. She talked about it at one point. I don’t know if she ever really did pursue it. If she did, she didn’t tell me about it. Peg was private. That’s why she let them extort money from her, I guess. Me? I’d have said publish and be damned.” She took a defiant swig of iced tea.
“Would Peg have been likely to confront the blackmailer?”
“It’s possible. If she could have done it safely-I mean, done it and kept her secret.”
“She should have gone to the police,” A.J. said. Both Mart and Elysia gave her scornful looks. A.J. insisted, “She’s dead because she didn’t speak up.”
Elysia dismissed this with a graceful flutter of fingers.
A.J. ignored her and asked, “Do you remember what this boy’s name was? Was he Egyptian, by any chance?”
“No. Blond and blue-eyed as I recall. His name was something like Cory. I don’t remember a last name. I don’t think Peg ever mentioned it.”
“Would you have an address for him or any idea of how to get in contact with him?”
Mart shook her head.
“What about your sister’s papers? Do you think there might be something there that might provide a lead?”
Mart scratched her head, frowning meditatively. “I don’t remember seeing anything, but then I wasn’t looking for anything. Not to do with the kid, anyway. I tried to find some way to prove she had been blackmailed. But there was nothing.” She grimaced. “I’m a pack rat. My sister was the opposite. She never kept anything she didn’t have immediate use for. And I’ve seen banks that didn’t have files and paperwork as well organized as she was.”
“She wouldn’t wish to take a chance on something falling into the wrong hands,” Elysia remarked.
“Exactly. That’s exactly right. She wasn’t someone who left anything to chance. She didn’t like to gamble.”
“But she took a chance when she had the affair with Cory or whatever his name was,” A.J. pointed out.
The other two women stared at her. Then Mart reached over and patted her hand. “You’ll understand when you’re older, babycakes.”
“They killed her,” Elysia said with ghoulish satisfaction as they left Mart Crowley’s quiet suburban home and started back to Stillbrook. “Either way you look at it, they killed her.”
“If she killed herself because she was being blackmailed, I agree that philosophically and ethically the blackmailers are guilty. But I don’t know how that would hold up in a court of law. I don’t know that could ever be proved since she didn’t leave a note.”
Elysia shifted into high gear as they reached the open highway. “Immaterial. She didn’t kill herself. They killed her.”
A.J. wasn’t so sure. In fact their interview with Mart Crowley had left her less sure. “That wouldn’t be so easy to do, Mother. First of all, Peggy didn’t typically take sleeping pills, so how would they get her to swallow an overdose?”
“Force-feed her. Slip them in her bedtime warm milk. I don’t know. I just know they did.”
“But once Mart started claiming foul play the police would surely have checked for signs of violence. There couldn’t have been any.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Well, we can find out.” Jake would surely do this much for her. A.J. added, “Plus how would the blackmailers have gained access to Peggy’s warm milk?”
Elysia said exasperatedly, “I was being facetious.”
“I know you were, but the point remains. If she didn’t take the pills herself, how would they have been administered? Someone would have to have access to her home and her pills and her food or drink.”
“This boy she was having the affair with would have had access. This Cory.”
“We don’t know that. According to Mart, Cory was just a boy toy. I can’t imagine someone as fearful of publicity as Peggy seemed to be giving a casual sexual partner the key to her home.”