Chapter 68

They tiptoed past Littlejohn’s room, taking care not to look in, as if even making eye contact would have been venomous. Quentin’s room was in a different wing of the hospital. When they entered, Dr. Fischer was there and the two men were chatting warmly.

“Two for the price of one,” commented the Chief. “Dr. Fischer, we were planning to come visit you next.”

“They released me this morning. Apparently I did not have a stroke—or post-traumatic stress disorder. Though I have to admit, the sound of gunfire in our building did give me quite a start.”

“Glad you’re feeling better,” Chief Black said to Fischer. “Mind sticking around so we can ask you a few questions? In fact, it’s probably OK to interview you two together. Either of you gentlemen have any objections?”

“Certainly not.” Quentin was in a cheerful mood. “Manny has been telling me about new treatments for malaria and other infectious diseases. I had no idea the kinds of things they can do these days.”

Bruno and the Chief exchanged surprised looks. They were not prepared for such a love-fest between these two. Too bad they had to interrupt them now, but there were lingering questions that demanded answers.

“We just came from Alison’s room,” explained the Chief. “She’s in pretty rough shape, but the doctors say she’s going to be all right.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Quentin. “I hope she’s not going to have too much trouble, legally.”

“It’s up to the DA,” said the Chief. “I just had a conversation with her. I think she’s starting to understand the seriousness of what she did. She expressed remorse. All of that speaks in her favor.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I feel responsible as well. She and Icky both attended Gardenfield Friends School. I knew them when they were children and I feel a bit proprietary … about all of my former students. I could see that they were struggling and I wanted to help them out.” He sighed deeply. “You know how hostile and uncommunicative young people can be. Instead of confronting them and demanding to know what was going on, I thought providing refuge, a chance to think things over, removed from the fray, would offer the greatest benefit. After Newton had that terrible accident …”

“Accident, shmaccident,” Bruno interjected. “Icky was murdered.”

“Yes, exactly,” Quentin agreed. “After Icky was murdered I didn’t know what to think. It seemed Alison had gotten mixed up in something terrible, and she was in over her head. I sent her to live at Bennett DeKalb’s place out in Burlington. It’s so peaceful there. He has an extra room …”

—“And he could send mail for her from Gardenfield without looking suspicious,” said the Chief.

“I know nothing about that,” Quentin stated defensively. Then he sighed. “I am extremely upset that Alison saw fit to use the meeting house in such an inappropriate way.” He nodded toward Chief Black: “Please, make sure she’s punished a little bit for that, just not too much.”

The Chief frowned. “It’s out of my hands …”

—Bruno was more sanguine. “If she has a good lawyer, she could get off with community service and a suspended sentence. Or how about this: Quentin could make her write, ‘I will not put dead bodies in the meeting house,’ a thousand times with a leaky fountain pen. What do you think, Chief?”

Chief Black studiously ignored him.

Now it was Fischer’s turn. “I have a confession as well,” he announced. “I wasn’t completely frank when Bruno visited me the other day. You probably want to hear what I know about Jurevicius …”

Bruno was about to offer a rejoinder. But the Chief cut him off. “I’d appreciate that,” he said.

“Serge was a difficult person, always,” recalled Fischer. “I’ve known him more than 15 years. But you come to expect and tolerate that kind of behavior in business—and in medicine. There’s so much competition. Brilliant people have big egos. And Serge Jurevicius is a brilliant researcher …”

—“You can skip straight to the bad news,” Chief Black growled.

“Of course.” Fischer was clearly nervous. “When you visited me,” he looked at Bruno apologetically, “the subject of Maria, that’s Serge’s wife, didn’t come up. If it had, I would have told you how dramatically Serge’s personality changed after her accident. This was understandable, to some extent. She was struck by an automobile near Place de l’Étoile and left largely incapacitated. Caring for her put quite a burden on him. But it also seemed to affect his attitude toward the business. He became very aggressive in getting his own way. His directors had the controlling stake, so there was little I could do. At least the emphasis on agriculture made sense, from a business perspective. I could rationalize that. But the investment in that grandiose building and the security force did not.”

“What can you tell us about the security detail?”

“Not much. They came from France. They were like his private army. They’d come with him, one or two at a time, every time he came back from Europe. And each time he’d return, his nerves were rubbed raw. He was insulting, angry, violent. I guess it was from seeing his wife …”

Bruno spoke up. “Just before he escaped, I asked him if the first victim, the unknown girl, was his daughter. The way he was abusing Alison made me think of that, I guess. Jurevicius became enraged and said something strange. He said the girl was his wife. Does that mean anything to you?”

Dr. Fischer looked disturbed. “What an odd thing to say, even for Serge. That girl was only 9 or 10 years old, wasn’t she?”

“That’s right. Dr. Cronkite thinks she was 10.”

Dr. Fischer wrote something on a scrap of paper and handed it to the Chief. “You should probably talk to Rhonda, our receptionist. Here’s her address and phone number. “I didn’t mention it before,” he reddened perceptibly, “because I thought Serge’s personal life was none of anyone’s business. But the fact is, he was in a relationship with Rhonda since right after his wife’s accident. She was his mistress.”