Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [readnow TXT] 📗

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

I leaned forward. “You see, there is something else, and I think you know this already. The day Simon was killed was a Sunday, the first Sunday in September, and there was a service at the church. So there was no way he could have been dining with Elizabeth Cavendish.”

“He must have made a mistake.”

“Why wasn’t he there for you the night your husband was murdered, Sylvie? If he was not out, if he was at the church, why was he not there for you?”

“He was! He would have been! I don’t remember!”

Dehan was shaking her head. “No. I think you do remember, Sylvie. I think you remember very well. And I think you were right the first time. He was there. He was there for you every step of the way.”

“What do you mean?”

Dehan changed tack. “Why did he lie to us about being at Elizabeth’s?”

“I don’t know!”

“So he did lie!”

“No! I don’t know! No!”

“He wasn’t there. He was at the church, delivering a sermon. He knew it and you knew it. Why did he say he was with Elizabeth and persuade her to lie for him? What really happened that night, Sylvie?”

Her face was crimson, she had tears in her eyes, and she was almost hysterical. “I don’t know! I don’t remember!”

“When did you hear from him? When did he contact you?”

She was sobbing, with her face in her hands. “The next morning, I think. I don’t remember.”

“Not that night?”

“No! I keep telling you. I don’t remember, I am not sure.”

I spoke quietly. “OK, Sylvie, take it easy. Let’s talk about something you do remember. When was the first time you discovered that your husband had taken out life insurance to safeguard you and Mary?”

She wiped her face and looked at me with pleading eyes. “You asked me this already. I told you, after he died.”

Dehan said, “But we have copies of emails sent to you by the insurance company in February of 1999 advising you that you have been named the beneficiary in two insurance policies, and detailing the amount of the coverage.”

She looked bewildered. “What?”

Dehan slipped them out of her folder and slid them across the table. Sylvie looked at them and shook her head. “Even if I had received these, I would not have read them.”

Dehan frowned. “Why?”

“I would have left them for Simon to read. He took care of anything like that.”

“He had access to your email?”

“Access? It wasn’t my email! It was our email!”

I shook my head. “I am sorry, Sylvie. There is not a jury in this country that is going to believe that.”

I said it, but I knew I was wrong. She began to cry again.

“I swear to you. I had no idea about that insurance. I have no idea where Paul was, or why he seems to have lied to you. I have never known Paul tell a lie. He is the best, kindest, most God-fearing man I have ever met! He would never lie! Not Paul!”

Ten

I opened the door and let Dehan into the room where Reverend Paul Truelove was sitting, staring at the pale gray tabletop in front of him that looked like the same color as his face. He looked up as we came in and watched us sit opposite him. Before I could speak, he said, “I was having an affair with Liz. If my parishioners had got to hear about it, or if the bishop had got to hear about it, particularly in view of her husband’s condition, I would have been finished.”

Dehan said, “So what happened?”

“I couldn’t go to her. As you pointed out, it was a Sunday, the first Sunday in September, a fact that had completely escaped my mind after almost twenty years. I had a service and a sermon to deliver. So Elizabeth came to me. She slipped in to the rectory while we were in worship and once the service was finished, I joined her.”

“Will she verify this?”

“Yes. She covered for me because I asked her to…”

I interrupted him. “You realize that if this is another lie…”

“I know! I know! You have made your point!” He was quiet for a moment. “I am not a liar, Detective Stone. I got trapped in a web of my own lies. The point is, I was lying to save my career, not to hide a murder!” We sat in silence for a moment. He looked from me to Dehan and back again. “Will the bishop have to hear about this?”

I suddenly felt tired and sick.

“I don’t know yet. If it is not relevant to the murder, it is none of our business.” I eyed him a moment and added, sourly, “But Reverend, in view of all this, don’t you think you should be asking yourself if you’re actually fit to be preaching sermons to people?”

He looked down at his hands. “Am I free to go?”

“Yeah. You are free to go.”

He rose and left. The door closed behind him and we sat for a bit without talking. Finally, I checked my watch and glanced at Dehan. “Let’s grab a burger quick and then go see Frank.”

“Did he call you?”

“No, but I’m sick of waiting.”

As we walked down the stairs, I dialed his number. He answered after the first ring.

“Stone, I had my phone in my hand, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, right. That is what you say to all the boys.”

“It’s actually on my desk. I’m reading it now. The pathologist was Mioko Itani. She isn’t here anymore. She moved back to Japan. However, I should be able to answer most of your questions.”

“Thanks, Frank.”

We walked down to Banyer Place