“And so you hit her. You hit her on the head and killed her. And as if that wasn’t enough, you stomped on her with your stiletto heels until you were sure she was dead. What size shoes do you wear? Never mind, we’ve got your shoe collection.” He checked his notes, and something didn’t seem to compute for he frowned. “What did you do with the shoes, Bereng?ria? Mh? And the club?”
“Club? What club?”
“The club you used to kill Isobel!” Chase suddenly thundered.
But Bereng?ria wasn’t impressed. She grinned at the cop. “You very angry man, Mr. Policeman. Maybe you kill Isobel. You kill Isobel with big club and big shoe!”
“Where are the shoes, Bereng?ria! What did you do with them!”
“I wear shoe. What else?”
“And the club?”
“Tennis club?”
“No, not tennis club. The club you used to club Isobel to death.”
“No club. No play tennis,” said the woman with a curt shake of the head.
“He’s not getting anywhere, is he, Max?” said Dooley.
“No, not exactly,” I agreed. “And I have the impression that Bereng?ria’s shoe size doesn’t match up with the footprints they found on Isobel’s body either.”
Dooley’s eyes traveled to the housekeeper’s feet. They were big feet, for a woman her size. Much bigger, presumably, than the stilettos the killer wore when he or she used them to kill their victim.
“I don’t think she did it,” said Dooley. “She’s a blackmailer, not a killer.”
“I think you’re right, Dooley,” I agreed. “I don’t think she’s our killer.”
“Me no killer,” Bereng?ria confirmed when Chase tried to press her once again. “Me not angry person. Me like people. Like Isobel. She good person. Nice person.”
Except she’d caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people, Isobel had. By insisting she reveal their secrets, even though they had told them to her in confidence. And in doing so, she had sealed her own fate.
“Okay, let’s try a different tack,” said Chase. “Where were you on the night Isobel was killed, Bereng?ria?”
“Visit friend.”
“Friend? What friend?”
“Friend reporter. Sell book.”
“You were visiting a reporter so you could sell Isobel’s book?”
“Big scoop,” said Bereng?ria. “Big money. Reporter very happy.”
“What’s the name of this reporter?” asked Chase. “And what time was this, exactly?”
“One o’clock,” said Bereng?ria. “I not want Michele see me leave house. I sneak out middle of night to see reporter. Reporter happy to see me. Happy with book.”
“Name of this reporter?”
“Dan Goory. Big reporter.”
Chase jerked his head up, and looked at Odelia, or at least where he thought Odelia would be, behind the one-way mirror. Odelia, too, was surprised by this piece of news. Dan Goory was her boss, after all, and editor of theHampton Cove Gazette.
“You tried to sell Isobel’s book to Dan Goory? Dan Goory of theGazette?” Chase wanted to know.
“Yes, Dan Goory Gazette. Good newspaper. Good for English. I study. Read Gazette and Odelia Poole. Good reporter. Good language. I learn and study.” She nodded with satisfaction and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You happy now, angry policeman? I tell you all. No more secrets.”
To say that Chase was happy would be an overstatement. He did look surprised, though, or even flabbergasted. And as he left the interview room to confer with Odelia, I had the impression our next port of call was theGazette.
CHAPTER 40
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Dan wasn’t surprised to see us. In fact I had the impression the aged editor had been expecting us. His white beard waggled in a non-existent breeze as he placed his hands flat on his desk, regarding his visitors keenly.
“Yes, Bereng?ria Morat? came to see me. In the middle of the night, no less. But when she said it was the only time we could meet, and she had something very interesting to show me, I decided I would gladly give up my sleep for a chance to publish something truly remarkable: a sneak preview of Isobel Droba’s biography. Only when she arrived, and showed me the manuscript, I realized she wasn’t Isobel’s official emissary, as she had somehow managed to convey, but had actually stolen the book from her employer without Isobel’s permission.”
“So what did you do?” asked Odelia anxiously.
“I told her no deal, of course,” said Dan. “You know me, Odelia. I’m the old-fashioned kind of newspaperman. I don’t go around paying for stolen property. My impression was that Bereng?ria represented Isobel, and when I discovered that wasn’t the case, I told her the deal was off the table, and threatened to tell Isobel. She wanted money, of course. Twenty-five thousand for the first part of the manuscript, and another twenty-five for the second part, which she said she could get any time. But I told her no dice. I deleted the manuscript from my computer, and sent the woman packing.”
“And then you never had the chance to tell Isobel, because she was murdered that same night,” said Chase, nodding.
“Yeah, unfortunately she was. Imagine my surprise when I heard the news in the morning.”
“So why didn’t you tell us?” asked Odelia. “You could have saved us a lot of trouble.”