They ran Marian Gillespie to earth in the faculty lounge on the second floor of Blankenship Hall. She was alone in the plush, dark wood–paneled room, sipping from a mug as she stood at one of the multipaned windows, staring at the snow-covered hills in the distance. It was easy for Ruth to see she was her father’
s daughter and Chappy’s niece. She was tall, slender, dressed in a beautifully cut dark blue suit, stiletto boots on her long, narrow feet. She had thick, light hair and dark eyes, like Tony’s.
“Marian,” Dix said to her from the doorway.
Her head came up fast, a long hank of hair falling forward. “Dix! Oh goodness, you’re here about Helen, aren’t you? Oh God, what’s happening?” She set her mug on a table and ran to him, threw her arms around him. “I simply can’t believe it; no one would want to hurt Helen. She was almost like a mother to me, always so sweet, listened to all my troubles. She wrote me when I was at Juilliard, did you know that?”
“Yes, Christie told me how close you two were. We need to talk, Marian.” Dix introduced the three FBI agents.
She motioned them to join her. Once seated, Marian said, “I heard about those men trying to kill you, Agent Warnecki. Then there was poor Erin Bushnell and poor old Walt McGuffey. Now Helen. Who’s responsible, Dix? Who is killing our friends, ruining everything we’ve worked for?”
“We’re close to finding that out, Marian, but we need your help.”
Savich said, “We spoke with Sam Moraga at your house earlier.”
She didn’t look embarrassed, not even much interested, only shrugged. “Well, Sam’s a talented boy who has a brilliant future, if he can keep himself focused on what’s important. We’ll see. He learns quickly, I’ll say that for him. And he’s eager.”
No one was about to touch that morass of double entendres, and Savich wondered if she knew about her father’s affairs with students. Was she throwing this back at him?
Sherlock said, “We’re very sorry about this, Professor Gillespie. We spoke to your father as well. He was over at Tara with Chappy.”
“So my father knew and didn’t bother to call me. That’s par for the course. I’m not surprised he was with Uncle Chappy. I’ll bet they were fighting, right?”
Sherlock said, “It seems to be the only way they communicate.”
She shrugged again. “It’s been that way forever. I never pay attention to their dramatics anymore. Sometimes the yelling breaks through, but usually not.”
Savich brought her attention back to him. “Dr. Gillespie, did you know that your father and Helen Rafferty were lovers at one time?”
“Sure, she told me. It was no big secret. I would have thought you knew, Dix. I’m sure Christie did. Now, you’re not thinking Dad had anything to do with this, are you?”
Dix held silent, continued to look at her.
Marian flipped her hand. “Listen, that’s nuts. Dad needed Helen, probably more than any other human being in the world. He didn’t love her, like sexually, but he needed her. She used to play the piano while I played my clarinet. She never tried to drown me out like some pianists do, she—”
Dix patted her hand. “I know it’s hard, but let’s try to stay on track, okay? Please tell me what you know about it.”
“All right, all right. Dad and Helen. When Dad broke it off, Helen nearly went round the bend. I was really mad at him. I called him on it, told him she was already like a mother to me so why didn’t he just make it official? I told him he was being cruel to her, and selfish.” She sucked in a big breath, gathered her control together. “Do you know what he did? He laughed, actually laughed. He was tired of her as a lover, told me her talents were in administration, not in bed. When I asked him what his point was since he wasn’t such a young rooster anymore himself, he walked out of the room. Later, after I apologized—
yeah, I know, still trying to please Daddy—well, he told me she was too clingy, and just plain too ordinary, that was the word he used.
“I tried to help Helen get through it, I really did, but you know what? Whenever I told her what I thought of his behavior, she defended him. Can you believe that? She actually defended him!”
No one said a word. Marian drew a deep breath. “She left her job for about six months, but didn’t tell anyone at Stanislaus why. I thought, good, Helen’s ready to move on, ready to leave my father behind her, but you know what happened? He got to her, convinced her to come back as his personal assistant. I would have fed him his balls, but Helen bowed her head, let him walk all over her, and went back.”
Marian shook her head and drank more tea. “She told me she still loved and admired him, that his genius set him apart, made up for everything else, and he still needed her. Can you believe that?” She paused and looked at each of them. “You want to know what the sad thing is? I’m thirty-eight years old and even I still want him to notice me, tell me he admires me, tell me how talented I am. Am I pathetic, or what?”
Ruth looked puzzled. “It is a little hard to understand. Why, if you feel as you do about him, do you want to work for your father, and continue to live in the same small town?”
Professor Marian Gillespie didn’t act defensive. What she did was give them all a big smile. “I told you, Agent Warnecki, I’m pathetic. To balance it all out, there’s a love pool of nice young men here.”
“What became of your mother, Professor?” Sherlock asked, steering the subject back.
“Please, call me Marian.”
Sherlock nodded.
“My mother? Oh, Dad divorced her when I was a baby. After that, she left and I never heard from her again. From then on it was only Dad and me.”
“Do you know where she lives?” Dix asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe Uncle Chappy knows, but I wouldn’t count on him to tell you anything close to the truth. All I remember is Uncle Chappy didn’t like my mother. I guess my dad didn’t either, since he divorced her.”
Savich said abruptly, “Did you know your father was sleeping with Erin Bushnell?”
She was shocked and clearly appalled. She was either a remarkable actress or this really was news to her. “That’s a stupid lie.” She jumped to her feet, her palms flat on the table. “Why would you say such a thing? It’s ridiculous. Sure he slept with Helen, but she was closer to his age. A student? Erin Bushnell?
No way.”
Savich said, “It’s true, Marian. Ginger Stanford knew about it, and so did Helen Rafferty.”
“Helen told you that? Are you sure, Dix? Erin was much younger than I am, for goodness sake. She’s Sam’s age. No, I can’t accept that, I simply can’t.”
“You’re going to have to accept it,” Dix said. “Helen told us everything. What I find interesting is that you knew all about your father’s affair with Helen Rafferty, but you didn’t know about Erin Bushnell.”
Marian slowly shook her head. “Not a clue. On the other hand, I doubt my dad knows about Sam Moraga. But for heaven’s sake, he’s my father!”
Dix said, “Sam Moraga was really upset about Helen’s murder, more so than I thought a student would be about the death of an administrative assistant. Why?”
She shrugged. “Maybe he thought of her as his mother, too, I don’t know. We never spoke about her. Actually, it was Helen who introduced Sam to me. He was in one of my music theory classes, but I hadn’
t really paid much attention to him. Then at one of those interminable professor and student get-togethers my father insists on throwing every couple of months, she introduced us.”
“Does anyone know about Sam?”
She shook her head at Dix, worried at a fingernail. “We’re discreet.” She finished her tea. “If Sam hadn’t been at my house, you wouldn’t have known I was anything but the celibate everyone believes me to be. There were a couple of others before Sam, both of them out in the world now. My father called me a shriveled-up prude last year. I remember I’d gotten only two hours’ sleep the night before, so I simply laughed at him. He couldn’t understand that laugh and I didn’t enlighten him.” Her voice turned bitter and low. “Maybe I should have told him. It looks like we could have compared notes. We make quite a pair, don’t we?”