CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lois gave everyone the day off because, as she put it, it was hard to get anything done with the police traipsing all over and getting into everything. Elaine could tell that Lois was afraid that another piece of circumstantial evidence might send her flying downtown and into the next available jail cell.
Close to noon Vic Kastenmeier arose like Lazarus, stumbling into the parlor and scratching his head, his armpits, and other more private parts. When Tasia saw him, she got up and helped him into a red, crushed velvet chair. He plopped himself down with a squint because of the bright sunlight streaming in through the tall, south-facing windows. Threadbare cuffs on his pants rose up as he sat, exposing socks with holes in them. Needless to say he didn’t smell very pleasant, either, and his hands were weathered and red. So was his face. The stubble on his chin could quite possibly sand down a piece of plywood. To say he looked like a vagabond would’ve been giving him too much credit, but Tasia doted on him as if he were a king.
“Thanks, honey,” he told her, taking her by the hand and then holding it for a minute. “I guess I had too much to drink last night.”
“Were you celebrating something?” Marlon said, sounding very New England again and very accusatory. His thick, brown eyebrows narrowed above his dark gray eyes.
“No, no. I….” Vic glanced at the liquor table. “Is there any vodka in here, hon?”
Tasia looked disappointed in him but said, “Yeah, sure. There’s some in the decanter.”
“Get me a shot, will you?” he said, the red in his eyes completely overwhelming the white.
“Sure.”
“Uncle Vic,” Silas said, completely ignoring his uncle’s ill condition, probably by force of habit, “could we do it again? How about another one?”
“Okay. Get me a pencil and a piece of paper, will you, son?”
Silas went to an antique table and retrieved a notepad and pencil from one of its little drawers. Bringing the paper over to his uncle, he had to wait until Vic downed that first shot of vodka. His hands trembled worse than Tasia’s had against the decorative antimacassars on the chair’s armrests, and it was a minor miracle that he hadn’t spilled any.
Burping once, Vic smiled at Tasia. “Would you get me another?”
“Maybe you should have some breakfast first.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course,” he said, “and I’m sure you’ve prepared some very wonderful things. But I just need a drink or two to clear my head.” He paused to write something down for Silas and then handed the pad back to the boy. “Carl said some very upsetting things to me last night, and it’s just hard for me to get over them. I need a few drinks to help me relax before he and I go at it again.”
He smiled so wide it overwhelmed his face, dwarfing the top half of his head like the Cheshire Cat’s in Alice and Wonderland. All red-complected and glowing, he looked like an elf sitting there. Why, he was redder than Tasia was most days. Wiping his mouth in anticipation, the stubble on his chin scratched white streaks across the back of his battered and weathered hand.
It hadn’t occurred to anyone that Vic might not remember that his brother was dead. Tasia knelt down beside his chair and said, “Vic, Carl was murdered last night.”
Leaning his head against the doily on the back of the chair, at first he looked as if he didn’t believe her. “Come on, now. Stop fooling. Things haven’t been easy for you, but that’s no reason to wish him dead.”
“She’s not wishing, Uncle Vic. Somebody killed Dad last night. Don’t you remember?”
Vic looked more upset by that revelation than anyone had imagined he would. “Say it isn’t so,” he said, lifting his head again and staring at Silas. “Please.”
“What do you know about it, Vic?” Tasia asked him at a whisper, glancing over her shoulder to see if the hall was clear of policemen before he answered.
Jerking his head to one side, he stared down at the floor as if trying to remember everything that had transpired between him and his brother the night before. The longcase clock in the family room proclaimed the noon hour with one full verse of taps followed by twelve bongs. “I can’t recall much. But I do remember arguing with him. He caught me sneaking some drinks from his supply, so he wanted me out of the house. John tossed me out.”
“You didn’t leave, though.”
“No. After John threw me out, I came back in through a side door. I knew that if I could get past John, then I wouldn’t have to leave. John would eventually go out and play poker in the cottage with Sam, and Carl would lock himself inside his office, have a smoke and a glass or two of cognac, and then settle down for the night. I knew no one would find out I was still here until the next day.”
“Don’t tell the police that you and Carl had an argument last night,” Tasia whispered to warn her friend. “The police are swarming the place, and they’re headhunting.”
“I can’t lie to them.”
“Why the hell not? Carl lied to us for years. It’s only fitting that we send him off with the same courtesy.”
“There!” Silas said, handing the paper back to his uncle. Vic took the pad and examined the boy’s work.
“Perfect!” Vic said. “A perfect set of balanced equations.”
“You should make them harder.”
“I’m trying to. You’re just getting so good at it. Pretty soon you’ll be able to stump me.”
“At chemistry?” Silas said. “No way!”
Vic chuckled as if pleased by the boy’s loyalty.
“Tell me another fun fact, Uncle.”
“Well now, let me see.” He sat back, rubbing his chin. “Because of the earth’s rotation,” he began, “a person standing on the equator moves at…?”
“One thousand miles an hour,” Silas interjected. “Aw, that’s too easy.”
“They’re all getting too easy for you, my boy.”
“Let’s talk about Einstein’s theory, the one we talked about last time.”
“So now you want to bore these people silly, do you?”
“Astrophysics isn’t boring, Uncle. It keeps me on my toes trying to figure it all out.”
“You’ve studied the recent articles on gravitational lensing, I take it.”
“I’ve tried to understand it,” he said, “but it isn’t easy.”
“What is gravitational lensing?” Elaine asked.
“Please, don’t get them started,” Tasia advised, rolling her eyes away playfully.
“It’s how light from an object far away is bent by intervening objects,” Silas said. “A fascinating idea, but it’s very difficult to understand.”
Vic smiled at Elaine. “It’s a way of calculating the rate of expansion of the universe. Einstein developed the concept almost seventy years before astronomers were able to observe and consequently verify the phenomenon.”
“Einstein worked on it before completing his general theory of relativity,” Silas added. “Doing that was like working his theories out backward. Can you imagine that?”
“No, I can’t even begin to imagine something like that,” Tasia said, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe where the conversation was going.
“I think we’d better talk about it later, Silas,” Vic said, laughing at the expression on Tasia’s face. “Let’s give it a rest.”
“Would you tell me a story, then?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Tell me again about Caravaggio.”
“Oh, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio was a mean man. Why, he even killed a man over the result of a tennis match. But he enjoyed truth, and he always expressed truth in his paintings.”
“He found truth in art.”
“That’s right.”
“People should always tell the truth, no matter what. Even if it’s the unpopular thing to do. Just like Caravaggio. Isn’t that right, Uncle?”
Vic stared at him for a moment and then nodded his unkempt head. “That’s right, son.”
“Stay out
of this, Silas,” Tasia said. “You see what kind of trouble your mother is in. You don’t want Vic to get into trouble, too, do you?”
“We’re all in trouble until this gets resolved,” Silas told her. “I think the best thing for all of us to do is to tell the police the truth, no matter how much it hurts.”
“Silas is right,” Vic said. “If they ask, I’ll tell them square.” Tasia looked upset by that, but Vic smiled and held her hand again. “Don’t worry, Tasia. There’s a distinct possibility that I’ll be plastered to the walls again before the police ever find me. But I’ll need your help to do that.” Letting her go, he added, “Get me another drink, and I’ll be forever in your debt.”
“I should bring over the whole decanter,” she said.
His face lit up and he gave her the biggest, brightest smile Elaine had ever seen him give to anyone. “Now there’s an idea! My, but you’re a smart girl.”
“If I were smart,” Tasia said, getting up and walking over to the liquor table, “I would pour the vodka down the drain.”
“Ouch!” Vic said, intently watching the crystal container in her hand as she brought it closer. “Easy does it.” Taking the flask she offered, he poured a generous portion into the lowball glass he was holding. He gulped it down about two ounces at a time. “God bless you,” he said, and then burped long and painfully as he covered his mouth with his hand. “Excuse me.”
“Doctor Victor Kastenmeier,” Connery said, sticking his head into the room. Vic turned to see who’d mentioned his name. “It’s good to see you up and about, sir. Would you come with me, please? I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“And you are?”
“Detective Rein Connery. I’m in charge of the investigation into your brother’s murder.”
“I see.” Vic glanced up at Tasia’s worried face and smiled reassuringly. “Why, of course, my good man. I always have time for an officer of the law.”
“Glad to hear it.” Connery looked at Marlon. “And what’s your name, sir?”
“Marlon McGhee. I worked for Carl Kastenmeier.”
“I’ll want to speak to you as well. Please stick around.”
“Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
Connery nodded and then looked over at Vic as he filled his glass up again. “Ready to go?”
“Yes,” Vic said. “It’s fortuitous that we should meet while I’m still sober.” He drank to that.
“I guess I’d better talk fast, then,” Connery said, smiling. “Would you mind leaving the liquor here until after the interview?” Connery took the glass and the decanter out of Vic’s hands and put them on a small bric-a-brac table. Then he pulled the good doctor up on his feet.
“Be careful with him,” Tasia warned Connery.
“I’ll treat him with the same respect as I would show my own father,” Connery said.
“Be sure that you do,” Tasia said, her gaze narrowing at him.
Connery studied Tasia’s defensive stance with a curiousness usually reserved for someone with strong perceptive abilities, like a social worker or a psychiatrist. Connery was an intelligent man, but then again so was Vic. Alcohol was the equalizing factor as far as Vic was concerned, however, and perhaps that was what Tasia was so afraid of.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Disturbing memories crept back into Elaine’s mind like maggots feeding on an open wound ever since the police arrived, forcing her to relive things best left forgotten. Staring at the sparkling crystal decanter on a table nearby mesmerized her. Vic’s being called in for questioning reminded her of the last time Carl had entertained himself at his brother’s expense.