“Oh?"
“We've been obsessing on the blackmail thing. Assuming that if she was blackmailing someone, that was why she was killed."
“Sounds like a good assumption to me," Jane said.
“It is. But it's not necessarily the only possible reason. Look at how many people had an interest in the money the law firm generated. Stonecipher, his wife, his partner, his assistant. Even Patsy is involved in a peripheral way since she handled the billing. Now two of those people are dead. One from natural causes but under very odd circumstances, and one was murdered."
“Yes," Jane said, "but what does this lead to?"
“I'm not sure. I'm just thinking out loud. The talk is that the Stoneciphers paid too much for their house. You can tell to look at it that they invested a fortune into it. And now it looks like Rhonda is trying to get her hooks into Tony Belton — the remaining lawyer in the firm — and he's resisting. So, couldn't there be a big money problem? Suppose, for example, that the firm was bringing in huge amounts, but Tony Belton was really generating all the business instead of Robert. If Rhonda was already sick and tired of her husband, it might account for her filing for divorce, then trying to grab on to Tony."
“Right. But what would any of this have to do with Emma?"
“I'm not sure, except that she'd apparently been Stonecipher's mistress for years. Shemust have had dirt on Rhonda. And she would have been bright enough to know who was the real source of the firm's income. Maybe she wanted to latch on to Tony, too. Couldn't Rhonda have been afraid of Emma wrecking her plans?"
“So Rhonda killed her to get rid of the competition?" Jane asked.
“It's possible, isn't it?" Shelley took a cookie and munched for a moment before adding, "Unlikely. But possible."
“I'd vote for unlikely, if not downright impossible. Conning people out of a few lunches is a long way from being greedy enough to actually kill a rival for the sake of money. If all Rhonda wanted was a richer husband, there are a fair number of available older men with money."
“But they all want young bimbos, Jane. It's a tough marriage market for middle-aged women, no matter how well-preserved they may be. Oh, well. Maybe I'm just obsessing on money because I had to pay the quarterly taxes today."
“Shelley, you know I'm not one to discount money as a good motive for practically anything, but I just don't see the tie-in. I wish I could. I know Mel doesn't believe I had anything to do with this, but I absolutely hate the fact that my name and private business is in a file folder in a police evidence room, or safe, or whatever. If this case isn't solved, every few months or years, somebody will go back over all the available evidence, come around asking questions again, and I'll never hear the end of it.”
Shelley nodded. "True enough. If the murder had something to do with money, Patsy Mallett would be the one who knew the most about the firm's income."
“And she'd never tell us," Jane said. "I have the feeling she probably has unbendable rules about discussing her clients' business."
“But she'd tell the police," Shelley said.
Mike came through the room again, having showered and changed his clothes. "I'm off, Mom," he said, eyeing the last cookie.
“Go ahead and take it," Shelley said. "There are more."
“Where are you going?" Jane asked. "Wherever the four winds take me," he said, striking a pose.
“Oh, good answer!" Jane said with a laugh. "A lot more poetic than some others I've heard over the years. Don't be late," she added automatically.
“I don't have to work tomorrow so it doesn't matter," Mike said. "Scott's starting deliveries at the deli tomorrow and I get the day off because I worked Saturday."
“Oh, fair enough. Is that the doorbell?”
“It's probably Scott," Mike said, but a mo‑ ment later Mel VanDyne came into the living room.
“Sorry to drop in without warning," he said, "but I've been trying to call you for half an hour. If you don't get your daughter her own phone line, I'm going to.”
Shelley ran home to restock the cookie supply while Jane made a fresh pot of coffee. When they were all comfortably resettled in the living room, Jane said, "Mel, did you talk to LeAnne Doherty about Emma?"
“Oh, yes. And before I was halfway through my first question, she confessed.”
20
“LeAnne confessed!" Shelley and Jane yelped in unison.
“Hold it! You didn't let me finish," Mel said, alarmed.
“Either she confessed or she didn't," Jane replied. "You said she did."
“Not to murder. To being at Emma's apartment. She was, as you said, a bundle of nerves. She says Emma called her Friday night, told her she was to come by at noon Saturday. Emma told her she had some confidential information that your friend LeAnne might be happier if other people didn't know about. So she went."
“And?"
“And they argued. Mrs. Doherty cried. In the end, Weyrich misjudged badly and demanded so much money that there was simply no way the Dohertys could have paid it even if they wanted to."
“I don't imagine you're going to tell us what the blackmail threat was?" Jane said.
“You're right, I'm not. It wasn't anything illegal, just embarrassing. Anyway, Mrs. Doherty says she realized the situation was beyond her control, that they'd already weathered a lot of grief and would just have to get through some more if Emma shot off her mouth. Mrs. Doherty claims she told Weyrich to go to hell and left."
“I'll bet she felt relieved," Jane said.
Mel looked at her strangely. "That's exactly what she said. How did you know?”
Jane shrugged. "There's a sort of euphoria when you burn your bridges. Or just accept that things are as they are, can't be changed, and aren't worth thinking about anymore. Even if you don't like the decision you have to make, it feels good to make it and have it over with. Don't you think?”
Mel nodded. "I never looked at it that way, but I guess you're right.”
Shelley spoke up. "But that all changed when she found out Emma had been killed and someone might have seen her at the apartment."
“Right," Mel said. "I think if I hadn't gone to interview her, she'd have turned herself in pretty soon. She was really in a state and so was her husband."
“You believe her?" Jane asked.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Provisionally. Somewhat. We'll see."
“Three qualifiers. Not good," Jane said with a smile.
“She is the last person who admits to having seen the victim alive. She could be an awfully good actress."
“But she wouldn't have bothered to try an act on me," Jane said.
“Sure she would," Mel said. "For practice, if nothing else. And remember, you told me she was asking you about me and about the investigation. She must have known you'd tell me about it."
“You didn't say that's why—"
“No," Mel said. "I told her someone leaving the retirement party had described seeing a woman who looked like her go into Weyrich's apartment. I hadn't even gotten the words out when she went to pieces and spilled the whole story."
“If you believed her, where would that leave you?" Shelley asked. "Have you learned anything else?"
“As a matter of fact, we have. But it's not much help yet," Mel said. "One of Emma's neighbors saw her come out of her apartment Friday night pretty late. Around eleven. In her jogging gear, but carrying something that jingled on one hand — they thought it was a set of car keys — and a file folder in the other. Or several file folders."
“Friday night," Jane said. "The night of the high school graduation and party. That sounds like she made at least one house call with her little scheme."