SIXTY-SEVEN

OUR next stop, after dropping off Matt, was the home of Flora Tanner, widow and mother of doomed Dana Tanner.

“Sergeant Piper gave me her address,” Quinn said.

Obviously, Quinn thought Mrs. Tanner was a suspect, although I was the one who had used the word vendetta back at Deerfield Farm. Clearly, the man’s detective mind was running on the same track.

“Do you think Dana’s mother killed Harlan,” I asked, “or somehow engineered his death?”

“We’re going to find out” was his reply.

The Toyota hatchback was cramped compared to Matt’s luxury sports car, but it forced me to sit closer to Quinn, and I found the situation—to borrow his word—nice.

We drove toward East Quogue but turned onto Lewis Road before reaching the town. Passing the entrance to the Westhampton Dwarf Pine Plains Preserve, we made a right onto a woodsy road lined with gated homes partially hidden behind shrubbery and ivy-covered stone walls.

“That’s the place.”

Quinn drove through open wooden gates, once whitewashed but now weathered and pockmarked by peeling paint. The house—a three-story Victorian at least a century old—suffered from the same sort of neglect. Even the paved driveway leading up to the house was cracked and pitted.

As we climbed the creaky wooden steps to the front door, Quinn leaned close and whispered, “Let me do the talking . . . partner.”

I flashed him the Spock eyebrow again.

Quinn rang the doorbell three times before we heard the lock on the windowless door click. It opened slowly, to reveal a frail, middle-aged woman gripping an aluminum walker. She wore a housecoat, no makeup, and her dark hair was a tangled nest.

“Forgive my rudeness,” she said, her words garbled by a partially paralyzed tongue. “My brother’s not here to answer the door, and it’s difficult for me to get around.”

“No apologies necessary,” Quinn replied. “Are you Flora Tanner?”

The woman tried to focus on Quinn’s face. It was clear from her sagging features that she’d suffered a stroke and was still recovering. Finally, she drew a pair of thick-lensed horn-rimmed glasses from her pocket, put them on, and looked up again.

“Yes, I’m Flora Tanner. And you are?”

“Detective Michael Quinn, New York City Police Department.” Quinn displayed his badge. “And this is my partner, Detective Clark. We’re here to talk about your daughter’s case.”

The woman scoffed. “What case? You people didn’t find enough evidence, remember?”

“We may reopen the investigation,” Quinn said.

“Why? The bastard’s dead.”

“You’re talking about Harlan Brewster?” I asked.

The woman stared at me for a moment. Then she turned on her walker. “Come in, sit down,” she called over her shoulder.

The house had a faint musty smell, and with the curtains drawn against the waning late-afternoon sun, the interior was shrouded in shadow. Flora Tanner led us to a large living room with an ancient stone fireplace, cluttered antique cabinets, a worn couch, and a threadbare lounge chair, which she immediately occupied.

After an uncomfortable moment, Quinn and I sat on the couch.

“Why did you two detectives come here?”

Quinn cleared his throat. “New evidence has surfaced, Mrs. Tanner. Another case involving memory loss similar to your daughter’s. This incident is also connected to the Parkview Palace.”

Flora Tanner sighed heavily. “What do you need from me?”

“Please tell us what you remember about the events surrounding Dana Tanner’s alleged assault.”

She objected to the word alleged and said so. Then, for the next fifteen minutes, Flora Tanner related her daughter’s story. There was nothing in her version we hadn’t heard from Gwen Prescott back at Deerfield Farm. But Dana Tanner’s amnesia after she’d gone missing and the regression to memories of a time years before were both eerily familiar.

With some bitterness, Flora Tanner related her frustration with the district attorney’s office, which ultimately refused to pursue a case against Harlan Brewster.

“I knew he was responsible. Ask around. That man had a bad reputation. I may not have proof, but as a mother I know Brewster is the reason my daughter is dead.”