Kerney folded his napkin, placed it on the table, and stood. The morning haze had lifted and the calm ocean glimmered like a deep blue mirror, reflecting the sunlight. “I’ve taken up enough of your time,” he said.
“Will you be in town long?” Parker asked wistfully.
“Just through today,” Kerney replied.
Parker covered her disappointment with a cheerful smile. “Please come back if you have any more questions. I’ll be here all day.”
“Thank you.”
Parker walked close beside Kerney to the front door and waved good-bye as he left. On the trip down the hill, with the scent of Parker’s perfume still lingering, he decided to pay another visit to Captain Chase. There had to be some documentation about George Spalding on file with the department. He also wanted to probe into what kind of working relationship Clifford Spalding had forged with the good captain.
Ellie Lowrey got to the lab just as it opened and extracted a promise from the supervisor to have Spalding’s toxicology work done and the medication found in the pill box analyzed before the end of the day. Last night’s search of Spalding’s car had turned up nothing. But Bill Price was busy calling every pharmacist in Santa Barbara in an attempt to learn what drugstore in Santa Fe had requested a copy of the prescription.
While Price worked the phones, Ellie drove to Santa Barbara to meet Claudia Spalding, who had called her after arriving in Montecito early in the morning. On the phone, the woman had sounded sincerely grief-stricken. Ellie deliberately played into it, offering Claudia Spalding as much sympathy and understanding as she could muster.
On the freeway, Lowrey pondered possible approaches to take with Mrs. Spalding. Hardball wouldn’t work, not without proof that she had had the opportunity and means to arrange for her husband’s death. Ellie figured the best she could do was to open a few trapdoors for the woman and see if she fell into any of them.
Ellie arrived at the estate and announced herself on the intercom. When the ornate wrought iron gates swung open, she followed the cobblestone driveway up a hill that curved and dropped into a vale. Her mouth almost dropped open at the imposing three-story stone residence that came into view. At one end, a majestic watchtower rose above a long portico with Romanesque columns. It looked like a stage set for a nineteenth-century costume drama.
A labyrinth of boxwood hedges enclosed acres of lawn, ornamental plantings, and gardens. Towering stands of trees covered knolls and filled vales. Ellie half expected to see corseted women with parasols and men in breeches and top hats strolling leisurely through the gardens.
A woman whom Ellie took to be Claudia Spalding stood under the portico. Tallish, with long curly black hair, she hurried forward as Ellie got out of her cruiser.
“What happened to Clifford?” Claudia Spalding asked as she closed in on Lowrey.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Ellie said. “We don’t know yet exactly why he died.”
“Why was he at the ranch?” Spalding asked. “He’s never gone there before.”
“As I understand it, your husband was arranging to purchase a horse for your anniversary.”
Spalding’s hand flitted to her chest. “Oh my.”
“Had your husband been sick recently?” Ellie asked.
Spalding gestured toward the house. “Please come inside. Except for a cold, not at all. He played tennis regularly and swam every day. He had a thyroid condition, but it was controlled by medication.”
“Yes, I know,” Ellie replied. “We found the medication in his belongings.”
Spalding didn’t react one way or the other. Following along behind her, Ellie entered a large room with a vaulted ceiling and an enormous stone fireplace at one end. The floor was antique terra-cotta accented by a big Tibetan rug that would have overwhelmed an ordinary room. A mixture of Italian antique tables, soft leather couches, and upholstered easy chairs done up in subtle Moorish patterns were arranged at either end of the room. Ellie sat with Spalding in front of the fireplace and watched as the woman took a deep breath and composed herself.
“This must be very hard on you,” Ellie said.
Spalding nodded. “Clifford was a special man. Brilliant, worldly, caring. I loved him dearly.”
Ellie studied Spalding’s face. Her large blue-green eyes were attention grabbing. Her thin lips with a hint of small lines at the corners made her appear secretive in a provocative way. Her creamy, flawless skin spoke of expensive spa treatments.
Something about the woman didn’t ring true. Ellie decided to abandon her game plan. “Your neighbor, Nina Deacon, has suggested that you might not have loved your husband as much as you claim,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Spalding said, with a look of haughty surprise.
“I’d like to hear your side of the story regarding your relationship with Kim Dean,” Ellie said.
Spalding’s expression turned cold. “Would you, now. For what reason?”
“To set aside any suspicions I might have about you.”
“My husband died in his sleep.”
“Every unattended death is investigated, Mrs. Spalding, and from what Nina Deacon told a Santa Fe detective, you weren’t as happily married as you’d like me to believe.”
Spalding got to her feet. “There are certain facts you’re not aware of. Wait right here.”
She left the room with her back stiff and her head held high. She returned with a folder, handed it to Ellie, and said, “Read this.”
In it was a legal amendment to the prenuptial agreement specifying that the removal of Clifford Spalding’s prostate had rendered him unable to engage in connubial activity with his wife, and thus she was free to engage in discreet sexual liaisons without suffering any financial loss, as long as such relationships did not occur in Montecito or nearby environs, and that the terms of the amendment remained strictly confidential between the two parties.
It was dated four years ago, signed by both of them, witnessed, and notarized.
In her years as a cop, Ellie had encountered a good many people with unusual private lives. But this definitely was a new wrinkle on matrimonial bliss. “Interesting,” she said.
Spalding looked down at Ellie. “It was Clifford who instigated this agreement. In fact, he had to talk me into it.”
“I see,” Ellie replied, not sure that she did at all.
“What Nina Deacon may have told you about my personal relationship with Kim is true. He is my lover. Nina is a neighbor and close friend, and it would have been impossible for me to hide everything from her. Letting her believe I was trapped in a loveless marriage was preferable to breaking the confidentiality of this agreement with my husband.”
“She said the Santa Fe house was in your husband’s name only.”
“I lied,” Spalding said curtly. “It’s my house free and clear.”
“Did your husband know of your relationship with Dean?”
“No.”
Ellie waved the papers at Spalding and stood. “Does Dean know about this agreement?”
“Heavens, no.”
“I’ll need to keep this document for a time to verify the contents with the lawyer, and I’ll also need to speak to the doctor who removed your husband’s prostate.”
“Of course. Just make sure I get it back. Now, when can I claim my husband’s body?”
“Today,” Ellie replied, handing Spalding her business card. “Once you’ve made arrangements with a funeral home, have them call me.”
“I did not have anything to do with my husband’s death.”
“I never said that you did.”
“I am not a brainless trophy wife, Sergeant,” Claudia Spalding said. “I hold an MBA and a PhD in organizational psychology, and clearly understood the implications of your questions. You’d better be very careful with your investigation, or you may find yourself swimming in deep legal waters.”