Chapter 5
Paul Winderman leaned back in his chair, studying the suspect. Some women might find him handsome, long and soft eyelashes silhouetting a pair of sensitive and pale blue eyes, a small straight nose, and a weak chin. But to Paul Winderman, the suspect looked rather weasel-like, not a guy he would call handsome; on the other hand, he didn’t look fit the profile of a killer. A man like Tom Meyers might be easily infuriated, with a lot of yapping and barking, but wouldn’t bite. But from what evidence they had gathered, the wretch could be a merciless killer.
“You do admit you have a gun,” he said.
“Yes,” Tom Meyers answered in a small voice. He had physically shrunken since he was brought in to be interrogated.
“What type of a gun do you own?”
“A small handgun,” he said, nervously looking up at the detective.
“Is it a .22 caliber revolver?”
“I don’t know,” he said and dropped his eyes again.
“Where is it now?”
“How would I know?” he looked up at Winderman with pitifully scared eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. “It was there before I left. It was always there inside my drawer. I’ve never used it in my life!”
“If you’ve never used it in your life, why do you own it?”
He lowered his eyes. “My father wanted me to have it. He owns several and thought I might need one in a big city.” Sitting on the edge of the chair, he twisted nervously.
Paul already knew that he was from Arizona, and his father and grandfather were ranchers. Sometimes, it amazed him to see how offspring could be so different from their parents. Who would think a cattle rancher could produce a pianist. Of course it was the wife who had owned a piano and who loved music, so the son started playing. Paul Winderman frowned. His own father was a cop and so were his two uncles. He couldn’t imagine what he would be if not a cop.
“So you left for the tour without taking your gun, and for some reason, you also left your girlfriend with bruises all over her arms,” Winderman said sarcastically. “In case you didn’t know, our lab has matched your hands with the bruises on her arms.”
Tom Meyers was visibly shaken and slumped further into the chair. Yes, those would be the bruises he left when he grabbed her arms and shook her. Her skin was so delicate that she got bruises even when carrying heavy bags on her forearms. His heart skipped a beat when he remembered the feel of her soft skin.
It was utter madness. Just the day before his grand tour, she dropped the bomb. Because she was pregnant, she wanted him to marry her. Was she crazy? How could he marry her? He was just getting started. He couldn’t have a wife and a kid to slow him down. Yes, he loved making love to her. When he felt the need, he couldn’t wait, with all the passion, the emotions, and the sensitivities that made a great musician. He needed a muse, not a wife, but she didn’t understand. She wanted to ruin him, with a kid and marriage. His face turned red with resentment.
Winderman looked at him searchingly. He was quite sure there was no love lost between the suspect and his deceased girlfriend. Maybe he never even loved her, the sick bastard. Maybe he had just used her, milking her like a cow.
So far, they had a body but no murder weapon even though the suspect admitted to own a handgun. They had already asked the local law enforcement agency in Arizona to visit the ranch to confirm if the gun was a match. As to the motive, he thought he knew. From the autopsy report, he understood the victim was five months pregnant. It could be an ugly surprise for an ambitious man who was on his way to stardom for the first time. Due to the severe decomposition of the body, they couldn’t pinpoint the time of her death. The best educated guess was between the night before and a few hours after he left for his tour. This was based on the calculated temperature of the room and the degree of decomposition of the body. The forensics couldn’t detect gunpowder anywhere on her body, which was rather puzzling. The coroner confirmed the death was caused by a single gunshot wound, and there was no stomach content of any kind. It seemed she didn’t eat anything long before she died. Also, there were no drugs or chemicals either. So Paul Winderman thought the time of death was most likely the morning before he left. If it were the previous evening, in that case she simply didn’t get a chance to eat. He cleaned his throat purposefully.
Tom Meyers was startled to meet the detective’s piercing stare. Yes, the bruises. “We fought,” he said reluctantly.
“Why?”
He could see the tears, then the fire in her eyes. “No, I’m not going to,” she said when he suggested abortion. “It’s our kid, and I want to keep it.”
He grabbed her arms and shook her madly. “You have to get rid of it! I can’t have a kid. I’m telling you! I won’t allow it!”
“But you won’t even have to hear it cry,” she said pitifully. “We will live in another apartment in the building, away from you.”
“No, I can’t be responsible for a wife and a child right now!”
“You don’t have to pay for us,” she replied. “I can support myself and my baby.”
“No!” he shouted. “Don’t you understand? I can’t let you or your baby ruin my career! I’ve been working too long for it, and I won’t let you to ruin it! You’re damn sure I won’t!” he hissed, mad with rage. She cried, trying to run away from him, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Why?” Winderman asked again, raising his voice.
“Because she wouldn’t listen,” he whined like a spoiled kid. “I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t listen!”
“So you killed her,” Winderman said.
“No!” he screamed, wide-eyed. “I didn’t kill her! I’m not the murderer!”
“Who did if it’s not you?”
“Anyone could’ve done it.” He saw Paul’s face darken and stopped. “I want a lawyer,” he demanded and raised his thin voice. “You have accused me killing my girlfriend, and I want a lawyer!”
Swearing under his breath, Paul Winderman stood up and left.
He went back to his office and dropped into his chair. The forensics said the gun was fired only two inches away from the victim, which meant the person who shot her had to be standing very close by, almost face-to-face, before firing the shot. At first, he thought it could be an accidental killing, the shot was fired when two of them were involved in a physical fight, but after they found the pillow, he had to admit it was a planned murder. What puzzled him the most was the fact that they couldn’t find the gun residue on her body. It seemed the killer fired the shot through the pillow while pressing it tightly against her body, and probably covered her mouth too.
That’s why the killer had to be someone she knew or was intimate with; otherwise, she wouldn’t let him come so close to her. Her body was next to the dining table, and the front door was at least fifteen feet away. Paul Winderman was almost sure they had their killer, yet in the back of his mind, he had this stubborn little doubt that wouldn’t go away. Tom Meyers was a spineless worm, a loser, a coward… but a killer? Paul Winderman needed more evidence.
He needed to continue interviewing people, including Yi-yun Lin’s ex-husband. From what he heard, the ex-husband was the nicest guy and very devoted. Paul never believed terms like “the nicest.” Any guy could snap; when it happened, the nicest guy could be more dangerous than an average but well-balanced guy. Lots of killers he knew and brought to justice were the nicest guys in a peaceful world. Only when circumstances changed, a crime was committed. It could be a loving husband and father who killed his whole family, or could be a quiet coworker who took a hostage and killed his colleagues. Based on his twenty plus years of experience as a street cop first and then a homicide detective, a guy who loved a woman too much could be a bad thing for both of them. When the love turned into jealousy and hate, there was no turning back.
Chapter 6
“Are you free Saturday night?” June turned to Yi-yun when they reached the door. It was late afternoon, and they had just finished afternoon tea at the Four Seasons.
“You know I’ll be free,” Yi-yun said with a bitter smile. It was a known fact among her new friends that she was a “working widow.”
“Sorry for asking,” June said half teasingly and half sympathetically. “Jim and I are planning to attend a piano recital Saturday night, and I thought you might like to go too.”
“Who’s playing?” Yi-yun asked. It didn’t really matter because she would go regardless.
“Tom Meyers, Jim’s old roommate when he first moved to Boston,” June said. She had left Singapore only after Jim was settled in with a nice one-bedroom apartment in the city. “He’s so into his music, the poor thing!”
Yi-yun was alarmed by June’s pitiful tone. “Is he any good?” she asked. She didn’t want to sit through a recital that was so boring it would make watching sitcoms at home a better alternative.
“Not good but great. He’s very talented, but he wants to be a concert pianist,” June said with a chuckle. “It’s really difficult these days because there’re only a few spots available for concert pianists, and he hasn’t won any major competitions to be qualified for one. Anyhow, we went to one of his recitals last summer, and it was great.”
“Okay, I’ll go,” Yi-yun said as they bid each other good-bye at one of the Green Line subway stations along Boylston Street. It could be fun because it would be the first time she went to a concert in the United States. Fang Chen loved classic music, but undoubtedly, he would be too busy to go.
“Invite all your friends who can go as well. He plays better when there is a full house. He’s a very proud and sensitive guy,” June said. “Typical artist.”
To Yi-yun’s delight, Ann, Shao Mei, and Amy were all able to go.
The recital was held at the Jordan Hall in New England Conservatory. Having served musicians and local residents for nearly a hundred years, the hall was in desperate need of renovation. In spite of its old age, however, it was on the short list of highly regarded prime music halls in the nation that musicians all over the world would come to play in.
Sitting in the first row of the balcony with June, Jim, and her friends, Yi-yun listened intensely as the pianist showered the audience with the cadenced sound of beautiful music. Swinging rhythmically and moving gracefully, his fingers danced on the keyboard, waltzing as fast as a gust of wind, pounding as loud as thunder, and floating as light as drops of sun. Soon, Yi-yun was carried away to a fantasy world that she never knew existed.
“Bravo!” Jim shouted when the last notes disappeared into the thin air. Even Shao Mei was clapping like mad.
“That was incredible!” Ann turned to Amy who sat next to her.
“Wow! He could play a concerto all by himself!” Shao Mei wondered aloud.
Yi-yun was in a dreamland when the thunderous applause pulled her back to the reality. She had never before heard a musician who could stir up her emotions as dramatically as this Tom Meyers, not even her next-door neighbor who made her fall in love with the piano when she was a preschooler. During the summer months, Yi-yun would sit on the porch and longingly listen to the familiar pieces her neighbor used to play while fully aware she would never have the chance to learn because private lessons had been struck down as a crime during the Cultural Revolution. Her neighbor could only play a few pieces, so he often repeated the songs he knew. They were never anything fancy, but to the ears of a young girl, they were beautiful and everlasting.
“Shall we visit him backstage?” June asked her husband.
“Of course,” Jim said. He turned to Yi-yun and her friends. “Do you all want to meet him?” All of them wanted to go. Shao Mei was so excited that she was simply beside herself.
To everyone’s delight, Tom turned out to be a good-looking young man with pale blue eyes and curly brown hair. When he smiled, the lines around his eyes became boyishly soft, making him look extremely sweet. In a black tuxedo, he looked as classic as the pieces he just played.
“Tom, I would like you to meet Yi-yun and her friends,” Jim said after giving Tom a bear hug. Tom’s eyes twinkled when Yi-yun told him how much she loved his music.
“I’m flattered,” he said with a boyish smile.
The meeting was short, but the handsome and talented musician left a lasting imprint on Yi-yun.
“How does he make money?” Yi-yun asked when she and June talked about his recital the next day. Since recitals were given for free, he had to do something to support himself.
“Freelancing,” June said. “He plays for local churches, clubs, and restaurants.”
“Is freelancing lucrative?” Yi-yun asked curiously. She couldn’t believe anyone could hold so many jobs at once.
“No,” June said. “The churches pay peanuts, the clubs and restaurants only slightly more. I don’t think he’s making good money. Otherwise, he would do tours or competitions. Jim says he has to skip big competitions because he can’t afford them.”
How sad! Yi-yun shivered as she recalled how difficult her own life used to be when she had no money.
It was a complete surprise when she ran into Tom at Star Market, the local grocery store she shopped a few times a month. She was heading into the produce aisle when her shopping cart crashed into somebody else’s. Looking up apologetically at the man behind it, she cried out rather joyfully: “Oh! Tom, it’s Yi-yun. We met at your recital at the New England Conservatory.”
“Of course, Yi-yun,” he seemed equally excited. “How nice to see you again,” he said. He looked very handsome in a pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt.
“When are you giving another recital?” Yi-yun asked as they walked along. “You have to let me know. All my friends love to hear you again.”
“Not until the end of the year,” he said, picking up a few apples. “I can’t afford to give free concerts all the time you know.”
“But you have to! You’re so good,” Yi-yun said, following him to the frozen meat aisle. “You’re the best pianist I’ve ever heard!”
“Why don’t you come to the Ritz?” he said. “I’m playing at the restaurant three nights a week.”
“Really, when?”
Yi-yun went with Fang Chen the following Sunday. She figured if she had liked Tom’s music so much, Fang Chen would appreciate it as well because his whole family played instruments and his younger sister was a concert pianist.
Even before stepping into the dining room, she heard Tom playing a sweet and melodic waltz. “That’s Tom!” she told Fang Chen excitedly. “Isn’t he great?”
Fang Chen shrugged while walking up the stairs.
They were seated at a table not far from the grand piano. As they sat down, Yi-yun caught Tom’s pale blue eyes. He’s so cute!
The grand dining room was less than half full; besides the tinkling sound of piano, it was rather quiet. When the main dishes arrived, they came with a note: “Thank you for coming. This song is for you.”
Yi-yun was breathless when “You’re Always in My Mind” started to flow.
“How lovely,” she sighed. Her heart melted as the echo of the last notes disappeared into the high ceiling.
“These are the best lamb chops I’ve ever had,” Fang Chen sighed, facing the dish with his fork half raised. “So delicious,” he said with great satisfaction.
Yi-yun turned and looked at him incredulously. How could he be so ignorant! He hadn’t paid any attention to Tom’s playing, and he used to tell her how much he loved classical music!
Though she had hardly tasted the food, Yi-yun agreed with Fang Chen passionately when he remarked on the way home that the Ritz housed one of the best restaurants in town. “Oh, yes,” she cried. “It has the most beautiful dining room, the greatest music–defi
nitely the best place to spend an evening.”
“Only if you have deep pockets to take care of the bill,” Fang Chen said sarcastically.
Yi-yun smiled; she was too smitten to say a word, and she didn’t care how much her husband paid. For the next few weeks, she tried in vain to get Fang Chen to go again. Finally, she went alone when Fang Chen was tied up at school as usual.
Sitting in a corner, Yi-yun drank her coffee while watching Tom play. The music had changed its voice from whispering to singing while the notes were flying high. When she heard “You’re Always in My Mind,” tears welled up in her eyes.
It didn’t take her long to decide to wait for him after dinner.
“What a performance!” she exclaimed when he came over to sit down with her. He smiled his boyish smile, and his eyes were sparkling with crystal grins.
“Are you playing again tomorrow?” she asked. For some reason, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his, as if they held her under a spell.
“No, I’m going to teach private students at home tomorrow,” he said, taking a sip from her coffee cup.
“Besides playing at churches, clubs, and restaurants, you give private lessons as well?” She looked at him in amazement.
“Yes,” he said without a smile.
“Isn’t it awful?” Yi-yun sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I mean, having to work so hard!”
“Not exactly,” he said, looking down at his well-shaped fingers. “I’m happy when I’m doing what I love. I knew I was going to be poor when I decided to be a pianist. Most musicians are poor, you know. But I love playing and performing so I don’t mind working hard. Besides, I believe in myself, and I know I’ll be famous someday.”
“Have you considered entering international competitions?” Yi-yun asked. June had told her he couldn’t afford to go, but some competitions could make him famous overnight.