“No, no, but Orlando Heguay—he knows Fitz from prep school—recognized the unidentified murdered man. He said it was someone called Tommy Norton. I hope this is the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for, but Sheriff Shaw, as usual, appears neither hopeful nor unhopeful.”
The daughter smiled, and although her mother couldn’t see it, it was a false smile, a knee-jerk social response. “Thank you for telling me. I know Fitz will be relieved when I tell him.” She paused. “Why did Rick Shaw tell you who the victim was?”
“He didn’t. You know him. He keeps his cards close to his chest.”
“How did you find out?”
“I have my sources.”
“Oh, come on, Mother. That’s not fair. Tell me.”
“This Orlando fellow walked into the post office and identified the photograph. Right there in front of Harry and Miranda. Not that anyone is one hundred percent sure that’s the victim’s true identity, but well, he seems to think it is.”
“The whole town must know by now,” Little Marilyn half-snorted. “Mrs. Hogendobber is not one to keep things to herself.”
“She can when she has to, but no one instructed her not to tell and I expect that anyone would do the same in her place. Anyway, I think Rick Shaw went over there, slipping and sliding in the snow, and had a sit-down with both of them. I gave him the key to Fitz’s office. Rick said he needed toget back in there too. He thought the fingerprint people might have missed something.”
“Here comes Fitz back from his swim. I’ll let you tell him everything.” She handed the phone to her husband and mouthed the word “Mother.”
He grimaced and took the phone. As Mim spun her story his face whitened. By the time he hung up, his hand was shaking.
“Darling, what’s wrong?”
“They think that body was Tommy Norton. Iknew Tommy Norton. I didn’t think that photo looked like Tommy. Your mother wants me to come home and talk to Rick Shaw immediately. She says it doesn’t look good for the family that I knew Tommy Norton.”
Little Marilyn hugged him.“How awful for you.”
He recovered himself.“Well, I hope there’s been a mistake. Really. I’d hate to think that was … him.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“I think it was 1976.”
“People’s appearances change a lot in those years.”
“I ought to recognize him though. I didn’t think that composite resembled him. Never crossed my mind.
“He had a prominent chin. I remember that. He was very good to me and then we lost track when we went to separate colleges. Anyway, I don’t think boys are good at keeping up with one another the way girls are. You write letters to your sorority sisters. You’re on the phone. Women are better at relationships. Anyway, I always wondered what happened to Tom. Listen, you stay here and enjoy yourself. I’ll drive back to Crozet, if for no other reason than to calm Mother and look at the drawing with new eyes. I’ll fetch you tomorrow. The major roads are plowed. I’ll have no trouble getting through.”
“I don’t want to be here without you, and you shouldn’t have to endure a blast from Mother alone. God forbid she should think our social position is compromised the tiniest bit—the eensiest.”
He kissed her on the cheek.“You stay put, sweetie. I’ll be back in no time. Eat a big dinner for me.”
Little Marilyn knew she wouldn’t change his mind. “I think I’ve already eaten enough.”
“You look gorgeous.”
He changed his clothes and kissed her goodbye. Before he could reach the door the phone rang. Little Marilyn picked up the receiver. Her eyes bugged out of her head.
“Yes, yes, he’s right here.” Little Marilyn, in a state of disbelief, handed the phone to Fitz.
“Hello.” Fitz froze upon hearing Cabell Hall’s voice. “Are you all right? Where are you?”
Little Marilyn started for the suite’s other phone. Fitz grabbed her by the wrist and whispered, “If he hears the click he might hang up.” He returned to Cabell. “Yes, the weather has been bad.” He paused. “In a cabin in the George Washington National Forest? You must be frozen.” Another pause. “Well, if you go through Rockfish Gap I could pick you up on the road there.” Fitz waited. “Yes, it would be frigid to wait, I agree. You say it’s warm in the cabin, plenty of firewood? What if I hiked up to the cabin?” He paused again. “You don’t want to tell me where it is. Cabell, this is ridiculous. Your wife is worried to death. I’ll come and get you and take you home.” He held the receiver away from his ear. “He hung up. Damn!”
“What’s he doing in the George Washington National Forest?” Marilyn asked.
“Says he’d been taking groceries up there for a week before he left. He’s got plenty of food. Went up there because he wanted to think. About what I don’t know. Sounds like his elevator doesn’t go to the top anymore.”
“I’ll call Rick Shaw,” she volunteered.
“No need. I’ll see him after I visit Taxi. She needs to know Cabby’s physically well, if not mentally.”
“Do you know exactly where he is?”
“No. In a cabin not far from Crabtree Falls. The state police can find him though. You stay here. I’ll take care of everything.”
He kissed her again and left.
61
Sheriff Shaw had investigated the theft at Fitz-Gilbert’s office when it was first reported. Now, alone in the office, he sat at the desk. He hoped for a false-bottomed drawer but there wasn’t one. The drawers were filled with beautiful stationery, investment brochures, and company year-end reports. He also found a stack ofPlayboy magazines. He fought the urge to thumb through them.
Then he got down on his hands and knees. The rug, scrupulously clean, yielded nothing.
The kitchen, however, yielded a bottle of expensive port, wine and scotch, crackers, cheese, and sodas. The coffee maker appeared brand-new.
He again got down on his hands and knees, once he opened the closet door. Again it was clean, except for a tuft of blond hair stuck in the corner on the floor.
Rick placed the hair in a small envelope and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
As he closed the door to the office he knew more than when he walked in, but he still didn’t know enough.
He needed to be methodical and cautious before some high-ticket lawyer smashed his case. Those guys could get Sherman’s March reduced to trespassing.
62
Cynthia Cooper discovered that Tommy Norton had never matriculated at City College of New York. By two in the afternoon her ear hurt, she’d been on the phone so long. Finally she hit pay dirt. In the summer of 1976, a Thomas Norton was committed to Central Islip, one of the state’s mental institutions. He was diagnosed as a hebephrenic schizophrenic. Unfortunately, the file was incomplete and the woman on the other end of the phone couldn’t find the name of his next of kin. She didn’t know who admitted him.
Cynthia was then transferred to one of the doctors, who remembered the patient. He was schizophrenic but with the help of drugs had made progress toward limited self-sufficiency in the last five years. Recently he was remitted to a halfway house and given employment as a clerical worker. He was quite bright but often disoriented. The doctor gave a full physical description of the man and also faxed one for Cynthia.
When the photo rolled out of the office fax she knew they’d found Tommy Norton.
She then called the halfway house and discovered that Tommy Norton had been missing since October. The staff had reported this to the police but in a city of nine million people Tommy Norton had simply disappeared.
She roused Rick on his radio. He was very interested in everything she knew. He told her to meet him at Fitz-Gilbert Hamilton’s house with a search warrant.
63
The pale-orange sun set, plunging the temperature into the low twenties. As Venus rose over the horizon she seemed larger than ever in the biting night air. A violent orange outline ran across the top of the Blue Ridge Mountains, transforming the deep snows into golden waves. So deep was the snow that even the broomstraw was engulfed. A thin crust of ice covered the snow.