“You’re a very sympathetic man, Sergeant Masuto.”
“For a cop.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t. You’re leaving tomorrow?”
“After the funeral. I must get away for a while, and my mother will fuss over me, and I guess I need that right now. I feel very bereft and alone in the world.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Won’t you sit down, please?”
Masuto dropped into a chair, facing her.
“How did you know it was Ranier?” she asked him.
“I knew it, but I had to confirm it. That silly trick with the bag did it.”
“But how did you know it?”
“There was a hundred thousand dollars of his own money in the bag-or his clients’ money. That would make no difference. It was money he had in his hands. He was taking no chances. He would kill before he ever let that money out of his hands.”
“And the money’s at his house?”
“We’ll have a search warrant in the morning, and we’ll pick it up.”
“I still don’t understand how you knew,” she said.
“The first thing he asked Angel when she entered the house was whether she had dropped the money at his house.”
“But you weren’t here when she came back.”
“But you were, Miss Newman, here in this library. So you heard Angel-you yourself mentioned how the air vents carry sound-and I imagine Kelly, who was in the pantry, heard it as well.”
“Really?” She put down her pen and looked at Masuto with new interest. “But there’s no way you could have known whether or not I was here in the library, since you were not in the house.”
“Perhaps.”
“And I suppose you’re also guessing that Kelly was in the pantry and that he overheard from there. Do you think that is why he was shot?”
“Yes. Probably he tried to shake down Ranier for part of the million dollars.”
“And Ranier killed him.”
“Yes.”
“You still haven’t explained how you knew about Ranier.”
“Ah, so.” Masuto stared at her thoughtfully. “You told me,” he said.
“What?”
“Yes, Miss Newman, yesterday in the living room, after Mike Barton was killed, you lashed out at Ranier. You said something to the effect of, ‘Are you going to kill me too?’”
“Did I? Truly?” She appeared not at all disturbed.
“Yes, you did.”
“Well-” Elaine sighed. “I was upset, distraught, and I had to lash out at someone. Bill was there. I never liked him, and I begged Mike to get rid of him. He was stealing Mike blind. But come now, Sergeant, you didn’t build your whole case on what I blurted out in a fit of grief and anger?”
“No, I didn’t. You’re absolutely right. And I wasn’t wholly certain until our little ploy with the suitcase worked. But on the other hand, Miss Newman, I never for a moment believed that you would have indulged in that outburst unless you knew something. You’re not the type. You are very cool, very collected, very much in control of yourself. There was also no doubt in my mind that Angel Barton had killed her husband. Of course, I could have been wrong.”
“I don’t think you were wrong.”
“I know you don’t,” Masuto said, “because you were here in the library, and you heard Ranier ask Angel whether she had taken care of Mike, and you heard Angel tell him that she had. Then, I suppose, Ranier asked her what she had done with the gun, and she said she had forgotten to get rid of it. Ranier must have been very angry, and he took the gun from her and dropped it behind a row of books in here-”
“And never noticed I was here?” Elaine smiled.
Masuto pointed to the door. “You see how it opens inward. You simply stepped behind the door. Very cool and quick-thinking. If Ranier had seen you, he would have killed you.”
“How amazing!” Elaine looked at him and nodded. “What a remarkable man you are, Detective Masuto! I had always thought that policemen had no imagination, but you have a marvelous gift of fancy. Please go on. I can’t wait until I hear what happened next.”
“You must have brooded about it for a while. I’m sure you loved Mike Barton a great deal. You would have made him a good wife.”
“You’re damn right I would!” she said, almost harshly, and then she began to cry. “Forgive me, please.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “I’m all right.”
“Can I get you anything? A drink?”
“No, I’m all right.”
Masuto watched her and nodded. “You, you would have made him a good wife. You would have mothered him, and you have the wit and intelligence he lacked.”
“Stop it! I don’t want to hear about that! If you wish to continue your fairy tale, then do so. Otherwise, please go.”
“I’ll continue, Miss Newman. I don’t know where you got the chloral hydrate, but I can guess. I would say that Angel had it and you found it in her medicine cabinet when she was out, and deciding that she intended to use it against Mike, you appropriated it. How you must have hated her! Of course, you knew her secret. Well, you waited for the proper moment, and it came when you heard Kelly shouting for Lena to get the drink and take it up to Angel. You had the chloral hydrate. You stepped into the hall and dropped it into the glass of whisky. Kelly had meanwhile gone into the kitchen. Then you waited until the coast was clear, took the gun from its hiding place, slipped up to Angel’s bedroom, and found her unconscious, the chloral hydrate having done its work. Apparently, you knew where she hid her syringe and heroin-I don’t think anyone else could have known that-and you gave her a large dose of heroin. I don’t know why you took the ampule with you, possibly you were startled by some sound. You would have used the gun if you had to, but there was no need. You put the gun in her dressing-table drawer and you left. I suppose you flushed the ampule down a toilet. Yes, you must have hated her a great deal.”
Elaine was herself again, and she smiled with approval. “What a stunning pattern of events you’ve invented. And you make it all fit together as neatly as a jigsaw puzzle. You’re right about one thing, Sergeant. I hated Angel. Of course I knew about the sex change, but since it was Mike’s secret in life, I was determined that it should be his secret in death. His Angel was a devil in human form, and I shed no tears for her. I’m glad she’s dead. But tell me, do you actually believe this fairy tale you’ve put together?”
“I’m afraid I do.”
“Are you going to arrest me for the murder of Angel Barton?”
“Only if you are willing to make a confession and sign it.”
“And wouldn’t I be a fool to do that, Sergeant Masuto? You haven’t one tiny shred of proof or evidence to back up this complex story of yours. Not even enough to arrest me.”
“I know that.”
“And if you did, Mr. McCarthy, who was Mike’s lawyer too, would be so happy to slap the City of Beverly Hills with an enormous false-arrest suit, not to mention defamation of character and mental stress.”
“I know that too.”
“I worshipped Mike. I adored him. He was my lover and my child at one and the same time. Bill Ranier was as guilty as Angel of Mike’s murder. She pulled the trigger, but he was an accessory before the fact and after the fact. And I’ll tell you something, Mr. Detective, in three years he’ll be out of jail. You lied about Lena Jones. She’s no witness. So what will they get Ranier for? Conspiracy to defraud the government? Resisting arrest? You said it yourself. He’ll be out in three years or less.”
“Possibly,” Masuto agreed. “Unless you testified against him.”
“You do so want life to fit your fantasies. But, you see, I wasn’t in the library and I did not kill Angel, and I’m afraid we must leave it there.”
Masuto stood up. “I don’t believe in revenge, Miss Newman. The person who takes the revenge pays too great a price.”
“But justice? Do you believe in justice, Detective Masuto?”
“I’m not sure that any of us are wise enough for justice. I’m not sure I know what justice is.”
Elaine walked with him to the door. “I wish I could know you better, Mr. Detective. You’re a very strange and interesting man.”