47

 

 

Marie Brassart looked more relaxed than any of the other times I’d seen her. I mentioned that to her shortly after we sat down in her living room.

“Do I?” she asked. “Yes, I suppose I probably do. I feel better about things, anyway.”

“It’s the Harrity Effect.”

She looked at me askance.

“Now that he’s in your corner,” I explained, “you’ve got to be feeling more confident about your situation.”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure that has something to do with it. That, and…” Her eyes drifted to Jeni, who sat next to her. She reached out and squeezed Jeni’s hand. “And finding some peace with myself.”

Jeni smiled back, though hers had some shadow to it.

I put the digital recorder on the coffee table. Both women stared at it like it was a wart. “Just so I get everything right,” I assured them. “This conversation is covered by attorney-client privilege.”

“You’re not a lawyer,” Jeni said flatly.

“No, but I’m acting as the agent of her lawyer.” I motioned toward Marie. “So this is a protected dialogue. Harrity was very clear about that.”

“It’s all right,” Marie said. “If I can’t trust my own attorney, who can I trust?”

“You fired your own attorney,” Jeni reminded her.

“Not because I didn’t trust him.” Marie pointed at the recorder. “Go ahead, turn it on.”

I activated the recorder, stated my name and the date. Then I asked both women to do the same.

“What shall we talk about?” Marie asked, her voice one of false whimsy.

“Let’s start with your marriage to Henry Brassart. How long were you together?”

“Together eleven years. Married nine.”

“Any issues in the marriage?”

She smiled. “Have you ever been married, Mr. Kopriva?”

“Call me Stef,” I said. “And no, I haven’t.”

“Then perhaps you don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“That every marriage is full of issues. In fact, that may be exactly what a marriage is.”

I thought about my own relationships and how complicated some of them had been. Maybe she was right. Maybe marriage was even more complicated. But I wasn’t there for philosophy.

“Did he hit you?”

“Henry? Oh, heavens no. He was a kind man.”

“Were there financial problems?”

She shrugged. “Not until recently. And that hadn’t become a problem yet, but I was aware that if things had continued status quo, we would have been facing some financial difficulties. That was why he was considering selling the house. More than that, it was the reason he planned to strike out on his own.”

“Who had he told about that plan?”

“Well, me of course.” She stopped. “Actually, I can’t say ‘of course.’ We didn’t talk as much as we used to.”

“But he did tell you?”

“Yes. And given the state of our relationship, I think that indicates he was close to a decision, or had already made one.”

“Who else did he tell?”

“I don’t think anyone else, although he said he was close to telling Thad Richards, and then the rest of the partners.”

“Why Thad first?”

“I’m not certain. But Thad struck me as sort of the lynchpin of the corporation. I think he handled most of the business details, and made sure everything important was communicated to the partners.”

“Were they close?”

“Thad and Henry? Oh, I don’t think so. No more than with anyone else in the office. Perhaps a little bit more, due to the nature of Thad’s role. But I can’t be sure. Henry and I…as I mentioned, we haven’t spoken about very much of consequence during these last few years.”

“Did you fight?”

“No, not really. There really wasn’t much in the way of conflict. Our distance came about more as a long drifting. A little bit each day, each week, each year. Then suddenly you look up and the gap between you is monstrous.” Her face bore a sad expression. “We tried to stay friends, but that doesn’t really work. Friends talk about more than just the weather and basic household logistics. There were no children to fill the conversation or insulate that space. So it seemed that the same distance that was slowly killing our marriage ultimately did the same to our friendship.”

“You should never have been married to him in the first place,” Jeni said quietly.

Marie smiled. “No, perhaps not. Nor you to Walter. But even so, I mourned the loss of our friendship. As I said, Henry was a kind soul. He deserved a better marriage, and someone who could give it to him. He certainly didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“You said he was kind. Was there anyone who didn’t like him?”

“Not that I knew of, no. I’m sure there was, but I couldn’t imagine who.”

Thad Richards, I thought. That’s who.

Only I didn’t know if that was right, either. Even if Richards committed murder for the insurance money, that didn’t necessarily mean he hated Henry. It only meant he was greedy.

“I haven’t heard anything about family,” I said, changing tacks. “Did Henry have any family nearby?”

“No,” Marie answered. “Henry was a late baby, and both of his parents have already passed. He has an older sister who lives in Maine. Elizabeth is her name. She came for the funeral, but didn’t stay.”

“I take it they weren’t close.”

“I’d only met her once before,” Marie said. “On my wedding day.”

“It all sounds very English,” I said.

“Belgian,” Marie said. “His family name and roots come from Belgium. Though if I had to guess, I’d have to agree with you. On mannerisms alone—”

There was a knock at the door.

We all stopped.

“Who could that be?” Marie asked, half to herself.

She rose and walked to the door. I turned in my seat to watch her. Something pinged in my emotional radar but I couldn’t pinpoint what the response meant.

Then Marie opened the front door and I saw who was there.