“Dru, that leak did not come from this office,” Jeff snapped, finally out of patience with the reporter. “You seem to forget that Clyde Earley, among others, knows that Celia Nolan is Liza Barton. We don’t know how many other people may have recognized her or been told who she is. Frankly, I think that whoever planned that vandalism at the Old Mill Lane house was well aware of Celia Nolan’s identity. The Post is going to be rehashing an old story and trying to tie it to three recent homicides, but they’re barking up the wrong tree. Hang around, and I may be able to give you the true story, and you’ll have some real news for yourself.”
“You’re playing straight with me, Jeff?” Dru’s anger began to subside, as her eyes relaxed and her lips became less compressed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been known not to play it straight with you,” Jeff replied in a tone that reflected both annoyance and understanding.
“You’re suggesting I wait around?”
“I’m suggesting that there’s going to be a big story soon.”
They were standing at the door of Jeff’s office. Jeff had come out at the first sound of Dru’s raised voice.
Anna came up to them. “You don’t know what you did to that poor girl, Dru,” she scolded. “You should have seen the look on her face when you were shouting about ‘The Return of Little Lizzie.’ She’s stuck living in Little Lizzie’s house, poor thing. She was devastated.”
“Are you talking about Celia Nolan?” Dru asked.
“She walked right behind you on her way out,” Anna snapped. “She was with her lawyer, Mr. Fletcher.”
“Liza, I mean Celia, went back to him? He’s representing her?” Too late Dru realized that Jeff had not told Anna who Celia was. “I’ll hang around, Jeff,” she added, an apologetic note in her voice.
“I’m expecting Henry Paley and his lawyer,” Jeff told Anna. “It’s five o’clock. You can go.”
“Not a chance,” Anna told him. “Jeff, is Celia Nolan really Liza Barton?”
Jeff’s look made her next question die in her throat. “I’ll send Mr. Paley in when he gets here,” she said. “And whether you appreciate it or not, I do know when something is really confidential.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a difference between ‘confidential’ and ‘really confidential,’ ” Jeff said.
“Oh, there absolutely is,” Anna assured him crisply. “Look, is that Mr. Paley heading this way?”
“Yes, it is,” Jeff said. “And that’s his lawyer behind him. Send them right in.”
Henry Paley read a statement into the record that had obviously been prepared by his attorney.
He had been Georgette Grove’s junior partner in the agency for more than twenty years. While he and Georgette had disagreed over the joint property they owned on Route 24, and about whether it was time for him to consider retirement, they had always been good friends. “It was personally very disappointing to me to realize that Georgette had gone through my desk and taken out the file of notes outlining my agreements with Ted Cartwright,” he said, in a wooden voice.
Henry admitted that he had been at the Holland Road house several times more than he had indicated, but he insisted that it was only carelessness in keeping his daily reminder.
He went on to acknowledge that about a year ago he had been offered one hundred thousand dollars from Ted Cartwright if he was able to persuade Georgette to sell the land on Route 24 to make room for commercial development. He said she wasn’t interested, so it never came to pass.
“There has been a question as to my whereabouts on or around the time of the demise of Charley Hatch, the landscaper,” Henry read. “I left my office at one fifteen and went directly to the Mark Grannon Real Estate Agency. There I met Thomas Madison, who is Georgette Grove’s cousin. Mr. Grannon had made an offer to buy our agency.
“As for the late Charley Hatch—I may have seen Mr. Hatch when I was showing properties where he was engaging in landscaping services. I do not remember ever exchanging a word with him.
“Referring to the most recent homicide that may have some connection to the Barton family, I never met the victim, Zach Willet, nor have I ever ridden a horse or taken riding lessons.”
Looking pleased with himself, Henry folded his statement neatly and looked at Jeff. “I trust that covers the situation.”
“Maybe,” Jeff said pleasantly. “But I do have one question: Don’t you think that Georgette Grove, knowing of your cozy relationship with Ted Cartwright, would have lived out her life holding onto the Route 24 property rather than go along with you and sell it commercially? From what I hear about her, that’s exactly what she would do.”
“I object to that question,” Paley’s lawyer said heatedly.
“You were in the vicinity of Holland Road when Georgette was shot, Mr. Paley, and her death made it possible for you to get a better deal than Cartwright was offering. That will be all for today. Thank you for coming in to make your statement, Mr. Paley.”