“Oh, hello, Jessica,” said Charlotte to the dark-haired woman who answered the door. “I haven’t seen you since the night of the play.”
“Come in,” said Jessica. “Belinda and her mother are out for the afternoon, and they asked me to take you up and get the dress for you.” She led the way upstairs and down the hall, then opened the door to Belinda’s bedroom. Two large boxes, one from Saks Fifth Avenue and the other from Barney’s, both tied with wide ribbons, were displayed on the bed. Jessica gestured at them. “There’s another one there that Belinda wondered if you might like.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Charlotte. She walked toward the bed and raised her arms to pick them up. But before she could do so, Jessica placed a restraining hand on the top box. Charlotte turned to look at her.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” Jessica said, releasing her hand to free the box. “Something’s been bothering me, and I’m not sure what to do. I heard that your boyfriend is the chief of police. I think I should go to the police, but . . .” Her voice trailed off. Charlotte gave her time to speak, but when she didn’t, Charlotte prompted her.
“You think you should go to the police, but you don’t want to betray a confidence. Is that it?”
Jessica nodded. “If it’s nothing, I’d hate to go to the police, and if Belinda finds out, I’d lose her friendship over nothing.”
“Well, why don’t we sit down, and you can tell me what’s bothering you, and maybe once we’ve talked it through, you’ll have a clearer idea what to do,” Charlotte said. They moved to an attractive seating arrangement at the far end of the room, beside windows that overlooked the front drive.
“It’s about Hugh’s murder,” Jessica began. “And Sophie. She was dating Hugh. She said they’d just met up a couple of times for drinks, but I think there was more to it than that. And then she started seeing someone else.” She bowed her head and looked at her hands, lost in misery.
“And that someone else was Adrian?”
Jessica nodded. “She made me promise not to tell Belinda, but I hated keeping that secret and thought she’d want to know. I know I would have. I would have hated for Belinda to marry him, and then for it all to turn out very badly, and then later for Belinda to say to me, ‘If only you’d told me, I’d never have married him.’ I just didn’t want that responsibility.”
“Fair enough,” said Charlotte. “So you told Belinda during the after party. When you came to her room just as she and I were going to rejoin the party after she’d changed out of her ripped dress.”
“Yes. And then Belinda and Adrian had a big fight, and the wedding was called off.”
“And Sophie drove him in the Lamborghini to New York that night,” Charlotte said.
“Yes, and they spent the night together, but Adrian woke up appalled at what he’d done and came back here in the morning to try to make up with Belinda.”
“Okay, so how does Hugh come into all this?”
“He knew Sophie was having a fling or whatever you want to call it with Adrian, and he confronted Adrian and threatened to tell Belinda. But I don’t think he would have. He wouldn’t have wanted to hurt her. It was Adrian he was after. He hated Adrian because of some business deal that went bad. Hugh made a lot of money working with Gino Bartucci, then something went sour, and Adrian became Bartucci’s new agent. They made an awful lot of money together—money that Hugh thought should have been his.”
“So, Jessica, what are you saying?”
“Oh, I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s all really confusing. But I know that Sophie was really angry with Hugh and just wanted him out of her life. And she really valued her friendship with Belinda—it gave her a lot of things she wouldn’t otherwise have and opened a lot doors, socially and professionally. She was terrified Hugh would tell Belinda about her and Adrian.”
“Sleeping with your friend’s fiancé—that’s a funny way of showing how much you value her friendship,” Charlotte mused. She leaned back in the chair and gazed out the window. “So Sophie wanted Hugh out of her life, and now he is.” Jessica remained silent. “Were you with Sophie during the first half of the play and the intermission?” she asked.
“No, I wasn’t,” Jessica said in a soft voice. “That’s the thing that worries me. I think she and Adrian were together for some of it, but I don’t know what they were doing. But everyone was wandering all over the place, so it’s hard to keep track of everything.”
“What about Hugh?” Charlotte asked. “Did you see him at all?”
“I saw him soon after he arrived. He talked to Paula for a few minutes, and then he wandered off, and the next time I saw him, he was talking to someone. A black man I didn’t recognize. And after that, sorry, I don’t know.”
“Have the police interviewed you yet?”
“No, not a proper interview. They just took a brief statement the morning after it happened. Sophie was in New York, and I came downstairs about ten o’clock to find police everywhere.”
“I was wondering why I didn’t see you that morning.”
“Nobody woke me up, and I’m a bit of a sound sleeper.”
“Right. Well, you should tell the police what you saw, but I think you knew I was going to say that. So why are you really telling me all this?”
“I don’t know. Conflicted, I guess. I want to do the right thing, but I don’t want to jeopardize my relationship with Belinda. She and I are still friends, but she doesn’t have anything to do with Sophie anymore. You can’t even mention her name, which is why I can’t talk to her about all this.”
“No surprise there,” said Charlotte. “Look, you want to be loyal to Belinda, and that’s fine, but a man has been killed, and if you can help the police find out who killed him, then you need to do the right thing and tell them what you know. And if things get stirred up and come to light that hurt or upset Belinda, well, unfortunately, that’s just the way it is. She’s a big girl and she can handle it. There’s always collateral damage with murder. Things come out that people wish had stayed hidden. In fact, the things that come out are sometimes the reason for the murder.”
A couple of loud knocks followed by the appearance of Phyllis’s head poking around the door prevented Jessica from replying.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Mrs. Van Dusen and Belinda are back. I told them you were here, and Mrs. Van Dusen asked if Charlotte would please join her downstairs for a drink.”
Thinking of Aaron in the car waiting for her, Charlotte was about to refuse, but something about the way the sentence was worded suggested it wasn’t an invitation, but rather a polite summons.
“Yes, of course.” As she walked toward the boxes on the bed, Phyllis continued: “Leave those. I’ll see that they’re brought downstairs. They’ll be in the hall waiting for you when you’re ready to leave.”
“I’ll just send a quick text before we go down, then,” said Charlotte. “Someone’s waiting for me, and I need to let him know I’ll be a little longer.”
They descended the stairs together, in silence.
Phyllis opened the door to the sitting room and stood aside as Charlotte entered. Paula Van Dusen, standing in front of the window, drink in hand, turned as Charlotte entered the room.
“Thank you, Phyllis,” she said. “Charlotte, may I get you something to drink?”
“Just a mineral or tonic water, thanks,” said Charlotte.
“You don’t mind if I . . . ?” She held up her tumbler and shook it lightly so the ice cubes rattled.
“No, of course not.”
When they were seated, Charlotte’s eyes strayed to the door, which had been left slightly open.
“I owe you an apology,” Paula said.
Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? What for?”
“That Bartucci character. I try to keep an open mind about people. Just because someone’s a little rough around the edges doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. But I should have had Bartucci checked out before I introduced you to him. I hope you haven’t got your hopes up about them investing in your theater, because they’re not right for you, and if you take my advice, you’ll steer clear of them.”
Charlotte thought back to Simon’s misgivings about the couple. Was Paula Van Dusen about to prove him right?
“Is he involved in illegal activities?” Charlotte asked.
“Not that I know of. But the thing is, investing large amounts of money in business ventures works both ways. The investor needs to know that the organization is aboveboard, and the organization needs to know that that money being invested and the investors themselves aren’t tainted in any way. That the money is clean and there’s no scandal or skeletons in the closet attached to the investor.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“Just be careful, that’s all. Don’t rush into anything. My instincts are telling me something’s not right, and I’ve learned to pay attention to that feeling.”
Paula gave Charlotte a few moments to think about what she had just said, then shifted slightly in her chair and leaned forward.
“I’ve been thinking about Hugh’s murder,” Paula began. “I’m sure the police are doing their best to get to the bottom of it,” she said, “but so far, I haven’t really heard much from them.” She took a sip and paused before continuing. “I’ve been going over everything in my mind, trying to work out what could have happened. Now something has occurred to me, and I wanted to run it by you. When you found the body, you found a black shoe. A Gucci. Adrian wears the same kind of shoes and the same kind of suits, and I thought it might be possible that the killer mistook Hugh for Adrian. As far as I know, Hugh had no enemies, but Adrian . . . well, the way Manhattan real estate business is conducted, it’s a wonder someone isn’t murdered every other day.”
“So you think it could have been a case of mistaken identity?”
“Why not? It’s dark, both men are wearing the same kind of clothes and are about the same build. And”—she raised her index finger—“I’ve been hearing Bartucci wasn’t too happy with the way Adrian handled a deal that went south when Hugh orchestrated a holdout.”
“The holdout from Argentina who almost caused the whole deal to go pear-shaped?” asked Charlotte.
Paula raised an eyebrow. “How did you hear about that?”
“Oh, you know. Word gets around.”
“Well, he was very lucky it didn’t collapse, if you ask me,” said Paula. “But it certainly ended up costing him a lot of money. Anyway, I was wondering if you think I should go to the police with my theory.”
“Yes,” said Charlotte without hesitation. “I certainly do. In fact, I can ask Ray to call round to talk to you, if you wish.”
“Yes, I think that would be a good idea,” agreed Paula. “And now I want to ask you about something altogether more pleasant. I was hoping you’d have brought your little dog with you today. He seems very well behaved. What do you call him?”
“His name’s Rupert.”
“That’s a charming name, but no, I meant, what kind of dog is he? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one quite like him, although something about him seems familiar.”
“He’s a tricolor corgi. You may be thinking of the red-and-white ones. The queen’s had them all her life, but she’s only got one or two left now.”
“Ah, the queen, yes. That must be where I’ve seen them. And nice little dogs, are they?”
“Delightful. The best.”
*
Aaron was leaning against the car, checking his phone, when Charlotte approached.
“Sorry it took longer than I thought it would,” she said as she fastened her seat belt. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to pop into the town hall on the way home,” she added as they drove off. “I won’t be long. At least I hope I won’t be. On second thought, you can drop me off there, and I’ll make my own way home. But when you get home, please check on Rupert. You could take him for a little walk around the grounds, but don’t let him off the leash. There’s a spare key to my bungalow in the top drawer of my desk. And while you’re there, you can drop off the dress boxes.”
“What dress boxes?”
“The boxes from Saks and Barney’s with the dresses from Belinda.”
“I don’t remember seeing any dress boxes.”
A few minutes later, Aaron stopped in front of the white brick town hall, next door to the police station. Charlotte peered into the empty back seat.
“We forgot the boxes!” she said to Aaron. “They’ll think I’m a complete idiot. Never mind. We’ll get them another time. You go on home, and I’ll catch up with you later.”
Charlotte entered the town hall, exchanged a few words with the receptionist, and followed her directions to the planning department. About half an hour later, she left the building and walked across the asphalt parking lot to the police station, where she was waved through the squad room and into the office of the chief of police, Ray Nicholson.
He looked up from his desk, grinned, then rose from his desk to embrace her as he gently closed the door behind them with his boot.
“What brings you here this afternoon?” he asked. “Everything all right?”
“I’ve just come from the town hall, and you’ll never guess. Bartucci owns the vacant land next to the Middleton place. Where the sign is, saying the condos are going up.”
“And?”
“He doesn’t have planning permission in place, so the town has instructed him to take the sign down.”
Ray’s eyes widened slightly as he began to understand.
“Exactly. He’s put up the condo development sign deliberately to drive down the price of the Middleton property or even drive potential buyers away. A lot of people would be discouraged from buying a single-family house beside a midrise condominium. Or with the condos going up, a buyer would certainly expect to get the Middleton property for a much lower price. We thought that ourselves.”
“Oh, of course. The Middleton place at a knockdown price.”
“Exactly. But of course it’s the land the house sits on that he wants, not the house itself. He wants the land so he can make the condos bigger. Lynda Flegg said the Middleton house would probably be a teardown.”
“So there is no condo.”
“Nope. At least, not yet. And the planning officer doesn’t know when or if approval will be granted. So Mr. Bartucci could be stuck with a white elephant.”
“And who sold him this white elephant, I wonder?”
“I’m sure it won’t take you long to find out,” Charlotte said, placing her handbag on his desk and lowering herself into the visitor’s chair. Ray returned to his desk, and after a quick phone call, he said, “What’s your guess?”
“Hugh Hedley?”
Ray shook his head. “Adrian Archer.”