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XVII
The Third Weekend
The truth of sex became something fundamental…sex was constituted as a problem of truth.
Michel Foucault
Charlie slept in on Saturday. He and Kate didn't have plans other than a late lunch somewhere. He went down for coffee and just a sliver of the almond torte Kate had bought the day before. The sliver turned to two good pieces.
As Charlie sipped his third cup of coffee he recalled what he'd thought before dropping off and was probably right. Dalton had had a major role only as Barrett's lover. His death probably was a deliberate overdose. It was possible that Barrett had been Dalton's first homosexual encounter and he'd come to regret it.
"Don't tell me you finished the torte."
"You should have a healthy breakfast: cereal, toast, milk, perhaps an egg…"
"You did, didn't you."
"Would I do that? There's a bit left in the cupboard. And fresh coffee."
Kate muttered to herself while she took the last slice of the torte. Charlie poured her coffee and was just sitting down when the phone rang. It was DeVries.
"Charlie. Some news and a question. Dan and I are at Richard Dalton's apartment. We finally found time to give it a good once-over. We found no less than three different empty bottles of over-the-counter sleeping-pills in the trash and an empty bottle of vodka. Dan's convinced this was a suicide. I want to wait to hear the autopsy results, but I tend to agree. If all of these pills and the interaction with the alcohol are what him, I find it hard to believe that someone forced him to take them. Now, the question we have is whether when you spoke with Dalton you had any indication that he might take his own life."
"No. I was thinking about it last night. I didn't think he was that broken up, but it might have caught up with him. I also can't come up with a reason why whoever killed Barrett and McKay would want to kill Dalton. And if so, why not just shoot him?"
"Well, the killer may not have wanted us to connect his death to Dr. Wilson's and Mr. McKay's, but it's difficult to see why he or she would suddenly get careful."
"Have you found out anything about Dalton that connects him to the book business?"
"So far, nothing. We may learn more next week."
Charlie gave Kate the gist of his conversation with DeVries and decided he'd risk another cup of coffee if Kate left any torte on her plate. She didn't, so he went to shower.
Charlie and Kate decided to try new restaurant that had opened only a couple of weeks earlier. The menu offered what Charlie thought to be too many options for any one to be very good. Probably the owners were trying to gauge what would sell best. Kate decided to try a penne and truffles special. Charlie went for Cajun-blackened chicken on a Caesar-salad base. The wine list wasn't available for lunch, so Charlie ordered two glasses of the house red, keeping his fingers crossed.
The restaurant was pleasant enough; the background music wasn't too loud and it wasn't scat or rap. But when the food arrived Charlie knew they wouldn't be back. Kate's pasta had sauce on it but bore only traces of truffles. His Caesar dressing was out of a bottle and the chicken looked more burned than blackened. Charlie had been told that when new restaurants opened, they ordered the best quality food they could afford and then started cutting back till they received complaints. This place hadn't started anywhere near the top. As for the wine, it was at best undistinguished. Both passed on dessert.
"We haven't got our hour in."
"We do, but just barely, thanks to the wait rather than the food and ambiance."
Neither Charlie nor Kate thought a lunch or dinner out was gracious if it lasted less than an hour. At Sandoval's two hours was their standard, but Sandoval's had great ambiance and excellent food. As for this place, when Charlie got the check all was explained: the restaurant was franchised. Though it wasn't advertised as such, it was part of a chain.
Charlie and Kate got home about three-thirty. There were two messages on voice-mail, both from Janet Milford asking them to call.
"You call her."
"Why me?"
"You seemed to get on okay when we were down there. Besides, you're more patient."
"Charlie, you've uttered a great truth, and for that I'll call."
Kate wasn't on the phone more than two minutes.
"Get your coat; we're going to Coulton."
Traffic wasn't a problem at that time and they got to Milford's house in less than twenty minutes. A sheriff's car was parked in her drive way and the front door was open. Charlie and Kate parked and walked to the front door. Milford could be seen sitting in the living room. She saw them and came to the door.
"Thank you for coming. As I said on the phone, I remembered your interest in what happened to Barrett and you may be able to help. Come in. Just look around."
Milford's house, or at least the living room and what Charlie could see down the hall, was a mess. The living room he recalled as nicely finished was a disaster of overturned furniture, drawers pulled out and dumped, and a hole chopped into the far wall.
Milford led them through the rest of the house. Much of it was still being worked on, but every room had been trashed. A sheriff's deputy was taking pictures of the various rooms and the damage. Charlie noted another hole in a wall of the second bedroom. It didn't take much to see that whoever had been through the house had made sure that there were no hidden spaces behind walls that looked as if they might have room for that. Whoever had searched Barrett's house and McKay's apartment had paid Milford a visit.
After they'd righted some chairs in the living room and sat down Milford offered them coffee. Both declined, having seen the kitchen.
"What did the sheriff say?"
"Just empty assurances that they'd do all they can to find out who did this."
"Did he connect it to Barrett's and McKay's murders and their places being searched?"
"No. When I asked him about that he said we shouldn't be precipitous and that this might just be a break-in and robbery. That's why I called you. I thought you might support me about a connection to the murders. But the sheriff left before you got here."
"Was anything taken?"
"That's just it. I haven't checked every single thing, but I don't see anything missing. What's usually taken, the TV, the stereo, is all here. It has to be connected."
"When did this happen?"
"I don't know, but it had to be between yesterday morning and a couple of hours ago. I went to work yesterday, then last evening I went to a friend's for dinner. We had a good time and it got late plus I'd had a fair bit to drink, so she invited me to spend the night. I did and this morning we did some shopping and I took her to lunch. I arrived a couple of hours ago and found this. I know how they got in; the front door was locked, as I left it, but the back door may have been unlocked because it is now. I called the sheriff's office immediately. Anyway, you agree this is connected to Barrett's and Chet's deaths?"
"If the house had just been searched, that'd be one thing, but those punched-in walls make this more than a break-in."
Just then the deputy entered the living room and explained he was done and was leaving. He cautioned Milford to lock her doors.
Charlie asked Milford if she had somewhere to stay, at least for the night, and she said she was going to stay with her friend a second night. Charlie thought that a good idea. He and Kate waited while Milford stuffed a few things in a bag and carefully locked both doors. She got in her car and Charlie and Kate followed her to Kingsford.
"Do you believe her?"
"I'm not sure. If she is involved, it's a great way to make it look as if she's not. You?"
"I'm not sure either. It seems a little odd that she'd call us, but then we did come down and question her. One thing I did notice was that she forgot to walk and stand stooped over. Maybe she was too distracted to put on a show."
"Interesting. I didn't notice that."
"Charlie, I wonder about you; it was so obvious."
/> "Think I should call DeVries?"
"Give her a break and the sheriff a chance; call her on Monday, and not too early."
"Okay. Now, do we have dinner?"
Sunday was a clear but cold day. After breakfast Charlie settled in with the acrostic.
When he finished the puzzle, Charlie thought about Milford's break-in and the other two searches. It was then that he articulated something that had been at the back of his head: the bashed-in walls. If someone had taken the time to chop their way into walls that might have some space behind them, that presupposed some rather specialized knowledge: that some walls are thicker than they might be for aesthetic or practical reasons, such as containing heating ducts or water pipes. A realtor would not only know that, but also think of it in doing a search.
When Kate came downstairs Charlie told her what he'd been thinking. Before she could comment, the phone rang.
"Dr. Douglas, this is Laurel Hamilton. If you're free, the condo will be open at one."
"We can make that. Should we meet you there?"
"I think it would be simpler if I just pick you up. I take it your wife is coming too?"
"Yes. We'll be waiting at quarter to one; is that okay?"
"Perfect. I'll see you then. If you like, I'll have a look at your house when we get back."
"That'll be fine."
"Okay, get yourself put together while I shower. Hamilton is picking us up at quarter to one to see the condo. She'll have a look at the house after."
Kate was a bit nonplussed but agreed, since she did want to see the condo. At quarter to one they were both standing on the sidewalk in front of the house when Hamilton pulled up in an expensive-looking Escalade. Charlie and Kate clambered into the SUV, Charlie silently cursing the height and size of the vehicle. Introductions were made and Hamilton drove to the nearby building. She parked just a couple of doors down the street.
"As you can see, it has a spacious living-room. The two bedrooms are a touch smaller than you might expect, but I suspect they're larger than those in your townhouse."
The bedrooms were larger than their own, but Charlie didn't think Kate was impressed.
"And how much does this place run?"
"The asking price is $489,000 and the monthly maintenance fee is $725, but of course it is raised annually, though the Board has a limit of three percent unless there's a two-thirds majority vote to raise it higher. The taxes for this year were $4,100."
Neither Charlie nor Kate commented and they were soon back in Hamilton's Escalade. When they got back to the house, Hamilton let them out and went down the block to park. They waited at the door and she was soon there. Charlie opened the door and Kate led Hamilton into the house. Hamilton had a look at the downstairs and upstairs.
"And your taxes here?"
"$3,600, so we'd be looking at another five hundred per month additional taxes, and, of course, the addition of a $725 maintenance fee."
"Yes, but you gain about 200 square-feet floor-space and a view."
"I'm still not clear on why condos are going for more than the houses around here."
"It's demand, Dr. Douglas; pure and simple. Also, the number of individual houses in this area is decreasing as condo buildings go up."
"Well, what do you think we could ask and what might we actually get?"
"You understand any estimate I offer assumes no problems with ownership or fundamentals like foundation or exterior-wall problems. Given that, I'd say you could ask $350,000 and could expect to get $320-325,000. Assuming the condo could be had for, say, $460,000, that would leave a shortfall of about $110,000."
Kate offered Hamilton coffee or a glass of wine but she said she had another appointment in a half-hour and had best be going. She gave Charlie her card, with her cell number on the back, and left. Charlie and Kate put their coats back on and went to lunch at the Casa.
"So?"
"What do you mean, so, are you seriously thinking about that condo?"
"Kate, my love, as I recall it's been you pushing for this all along."
"Well, forget it. That condo was just an apartment; it had no character. We don't need the extra space; I don't like the idea of a Board managing things; and the cost is outrageous."
"Is that it? You don't want to look at some others?"
"You know very well that anything in our neighborhood is going to be in the same price-range, and our house isn't going to gain in value any time soon. You'll just have to deal with the garbage and whatever. Now, pour me some more of that lovely syrah."
"Right, but the cost of more syrah is you have to tell me what you thought of Hamilton."
"She seemed pleasant enough. Did you want to ask her about Barrett or Shwayder?"
"No. I thought that would be clumsy. I wanted to see if she made any reference to either, even if indirectly. She may well have just been helping Barrett with the house and he invited her to a couple of parties and the Dog. She is attractive."
"Why don't you do this: call her and invite her to lunch at the club. She no doubt sees us as potential buyers and she'll probably like going to the club. Then you explain we're not interested, that you're thanking her for her time, and sneak in a reference to Barrett."
"That might work. At least it'll be interesting to see how she reacts."
When Charlie was lying in bed later, he thought again about calling Hamilton and decided he'd do so early, in case she was free for lunch. No sense waiting. As he drifted off he wondered if Milford had had the books and if they were now gone.