She shook her head miserably. "No, he wanted to see justice done to the person who had taken his brother away before they could even meet. That's what he's out there now trying to do. Please, check with your people. See if they've found him yet.”
Sheriff Taylor didn't move. "My people will tell me.”
Marge stared at him. "Oh, I think I see. Somebody else is already questioning Henry. You mean to compare what we say. That's okay. Really it is. Henry will tell the exact truth, just like I'm telling the truth. It is the truth, Sheriff. I swear it.”
Nineteen
"Do you believe that's the truth?" Shelley•asked.
The two of them were back in the dining hall of the lodge and starting to feel that it was a second home that neither of them liked very much. Eileen had come back to Marge's cabin, insisting that she belonged at her sister-in-law's side. Marge had agreed that Eileen would be a comfort to her, now that she had become calmer.
The sheriff had abruptly dismissed Jane and Shelley when Eileen entered the cabin. He asked them, quietly but in a tone that was clearly an order, to go to the lodge to wait for him and not to discuss what they'd heard with anyone else.
They had no intention of talking to anyone else and had taken a table as far as they could get from both the kitchen — from which marvelous smells were coming — and the lobby, which was nearly deserted now.
“I can't imagine if she's telling the truth," Jane replied to Shelley's question. "If she is, it's about the saddest story I've ever heard. Imagine all those years with a man who didn't care about you and made no pretense about it. At least my husband sort of loved me — until he met the bimbo. It was one big, horrible shock to find out about her, but Marge has lived with an empty heart for most of her marriage. That has to be worse."
“She could have left him, you know," Shelley said.
“Many women would have. But many wouldn't, too," Jane said. "She doesn't seem to have much self-confidence. She'd let her nursing credentials lapse, I imagine. She might have suspected that he was the kind of man who'd hire a very good lawyer and leave her penniless. She sort of hinted at that when she said she suspected him of having her spied on. Maybe she figured her life would be more awful and more empty and a lot poorer financially on her own. And she did say he wasn't usually terrible to her."
“But is that the truth?" Shelley asked. "Is any of it true? What if he was an abuser?"
“And she and his brother conspired to kill him?" Jane speculated. "Marge is obviously in love with this guy. And he is Sam's identical twin, with a lot of similar personality traits. Maybe he's just as much of a jerk as Sam was and has played on her loneliness. He stood to gain considerably. Everything Sam had, including his half of the car dealership, is now hers. She's probably a fairly wealthy widow."
“There's nothing like money to motivate people," Shelley observed.
“Do you think this is what this is about? Money?""And sex," Shelley said.
“She could be telling the absolute truth — as she knows it, or believes it," Jane said. "Because of her attraction to Sam Tw— I mean Henry. And maybe inventing bits to make him more sympathetic in her own mind. He's been observing both of them, not just his brother, it seems. Maybe he was really watching her? Trying to figure out whether he had a chance of sweeping her off her feet if Sam were dead."
“She did say she saw him at the grocery store. He must have known Sam wasn't with her then," Shelley said, nodding. "You could be right, that knowing all about her was every bit as important as knowing about Sam.”
The young man who'd set the table by the fire came back with a coffee urn.
“Yes," Jane said, "he only had to know enough about Sam to figure out how to kill him and take over his business. But he had to make Marge fall in love with him at lightning speed. And he succeeded wonderfully. I'll get us some coffee.”
When she got back to the table in the corner, Shelley was half-turned, staring out the window. It was almost entirely dark now and they could see the occasional darting beam of a flashlight in the woods between the lodge and the lake.
“We're assuming that Marge has been fooled and this Henry person killed Sam," Shelley said. "I'm not sure we should assume that yet. Suppose what she said was the truth? Who else might have killed Sam?"
“It's most often family members," Jane said. "That means John or Eileen. . or both of them."
“Why?"
“Because they're family."
“No, Jane, I mean what could their motives be? Money?"
“Would they profit from his death?" Jane wondered. "Surely Marge inherited Sam's portion of the car dealership. John might be able to juggle the figures and cheat her a bit, but she probably had a pretty good idea of what their income was before and would sense if she were being cheated." Jane thought for a moment, sipping at her coffee. "No, I'm not sure that's right. Sam was a control freak to some degree. She probably had no idea in the world how much money they had. He struck me as one of those men who balance their wives' checkbooks and make them account for every penny, without any accounting in return.”
Shelley nodded. "That would be my guess, too."
“But in that case, he probably had a will that specified some trusted accountant or banker to watch out for her interests. He's much more likely to have gone the paternalistic route."
“I'm losing the thread again," Shelley said.
“We're trying to figure out if John Claypool stood to gain from Sam's death. And I don't see how he could. Not enough to be worth killing for. And while they didn't seem exactly chummy, I certainly didn't get a hint of antagonism between them, did you?"
“No. I wouldn't call them close, but they worked together every day and have for years, so I assume they managed to get along."
“Simmering resentment?" Jane suggested. Shelley shook her head. "John Claypool doesn't strike me as a man who could simmer for long without boiling over. He's too brash. Too 'surface.' "
“I can't think of any other motive he'd have, then. Nor can I think of a single one for Eileen. If anything, this is to their disadvantage."
“How do you figure that?" Shelley asked.
“The car dealership apparently took two men full-time to operate. Now John's going to have to work harder than ever to keep it going."
“Mmm," Shelley said. "That's a point. Okay, if we're assuming that Marge's version of Henry is accurate, and John and Eileen are out of the suspect picture, who does that leave us? The rest of the committee."
“And the Tituses," Jane added.
“Let's leave them for a minute and consider the rest of the committee. What could Liz have against Sam?"
“I have no idea. Their lives don't seem to be likely to intersect at any point — unless she bought a car from him. Maybe a real lemon."
“Jane, if normal people killed salesmen who sold them duds, there wouldn't be any salespeople left."
“It was just an idea — I didn't claim it was a good idea," Jane said with a smile. "Couldn't be a flap relating to Liz's job. Sam and Marge didn't have kids."
“Al Flowers then?"
“I don't think Al Flowers could swat a fly, much less smack a person dead with a frying pan," Jane said. "And if Al were the type to take offense, he couldn't stand to live with Liz, who can dish out more offense in five minutes than anyone has the right to. And look how well he manages it."
“ 'Now, Lizzie.' " They imitated his nimbly voice in unison and laughed.
“What about money? You mentioned bankers a while ago," Shelley said. "Car dealerships and banks go together. What if Al's bank was pulling some kind of monetary hanky-panky that Sam found out about? It could ruin Al and probably take Liz's career down with him. Schools can be awfully snotty about the reputation of their administrators — and their families.”
Jane looked down into her coffee cup. "I've only known Al for a matter of days, and not well at that, but if this really is a world where somebody so nice can be a villain, I don't want to know about it. And would never believe it."
“I know what you mean," Shelley said. "I feel like I should get my mouth washed out with soap for even considering it. And I'd feel pretty much the same way about Bob Rycraft. Not that I'm so crazy about him, but I do think he's a bone-deep nice guy. He's a good daddy to a mob of little girls. If that isn't nice, I don't know what is."
“So that leaves us with the Tituses," Jane said. "I think we can exempt Allison. She seems to be in really frail health. I don't think she would have found it physically possible to lurk in the woods and deal a killing blow with a heavy frying pan even if she did have a motive. And I can't imagine what the motive might be. When I asked her about the Clay-pools, she didn't seem to show any interest in themat all except to mention that Benson once worked for them as a mechanic."
“No guilty starts, gritted teeth, or furtive looks?"