“No, my deputy is guarding our backs.” Dix walked into the entryway as Gordon gestured them in.
“We’ve got some things to discuss with you, Gordon, like who hired Tommy Dempsey and Jackie Slater.”
“Who? Oh, those men you killed in the car chase. Oh, all right. Come on in then, it’s not like I can stop you.” Gordon waved them into the living room.
Dix and Ruth watched Gordon walk to a drink trolley on the far side of the room, lift a brandy bottle, an eyebrow arched. “Either of you want a drink?”
Ruth and Dix shook their heads. Dix said, “No, we’re fine.”
Ruth looked around the large open space, all windows and rich oak, dominated by a large grand piano at the far end of the room. The walls were covered with musical scores, beautifully framed—all of them, she knew, originals penned by the composers themselves. It was a comfortable room, elegant and subtle, filled with earth tones and oversized leather furniture. A fire burned brightly in the stone fireplace.
They watched Gordon pour himself a liberal amount of brandy, splashing some of it over the side of the snifter, as if he’d already had too much.
“You have a lovely Steinway, Dr. Holcombe. I noticed it when we were here before.”
“Yes, you saw everything, didn’t you, when you searched my house?” Gordon walked to the eleven-foot black grand piano and laid a hand lightly on the keys. “Did you know that Steinway fought at the Battle of Waterloo?”
They shook their heads, and Gordon sighed, sipped his brandy. “Who cares?”
Dix said without preamble, “I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet, Gordon, that we know who hired Dempsey and Slater. Or perhaps you already know?”
“How would I know? Tell me, Dix.”
“Helen Rafferty.”
His hand jerked, and more brandy spilled out of his snifter. “Helen hired those two thugs? Why, for heaven’s sake? To kill Agent Warnecki here? Helen didn’t even know her last Saturday. That makes no sense, Dix.”
“No, Helen didn’t hire them to kill Ruth. She hired them to kill Erin.”
“What did you say? Kill Erin? That’s crazy. Why would Helen do such an insane thing? No, I was thinking it was that boy lover of Marian’s, Sam Moraga. I heard he wanted Erin but she didn’t want him.” He stopped dead, stared at them. “Wait a minute, here, Dix. This means you no longer think I killed Erin? You think I’m innocent?”
Dix said, “We know you didn’t hire them, Gordon. Our apologies for believing you did.”
“We also know Sam Moraga had nothing to do with Erin’s murder, either,” Ruth said.
“So you’re blaming Helen? I don’t understand any of this, Dix.” He leaned heavily against the grand piano.
Dix said, “We’re cops, Gordon. It’s our job to keep asking questions until all the pieces fit together. And for a while there, all the pieces pointed right at you. But in the end, they didn’t fit when it came to your killing Erin and Walt. Truth be told, Gordon, we think you really loved Erin.”
“Yes, yes, of course I did, Dix. She was filled with light, filled with love.” For a moment, they were afraid he would burst into tears. He got hold of himself and managed to look contemptuous. “So you’ve been going down the list. Very well. Tell me what you think Helen had to do with it.”
“Ruth and I spent the afternoon combing through Helen’s bank records. We found three large withdrawals she made in the past three weeks, in cash. We’ve been through her telephone records as well. She called Richmond twice, Tommy Dempsey’s number specifically. There was one call from Dempsey’s number to hers, last Thursday. Helen may have been a good receptionist, but she wasn’t an experienced criminal. She left a trail.”
“She hired those men to murder my Erin? But that can’t be right, Dix. She always supported me, helped me. I think she loved me. Why would she do such a thing?”
Ruth said, “It’s not so hard to figure out, is it, Gordon? Helen saw that Erin Bushnell wasn’t like the other students you took as lovers. She realized that Erin was the first woman you really loved, the one who might be with you for the long term, not just until she graduated. Helen had made herself accept that you turned her away because of your infirmity—that’s what she called it—your need for stimulation and even inspiration from those talented young women. So Helen was able to accept them, because they were temporary. Only she was a constant.
“But then you met Erin and everything changed.”