“Sir,” Ruhl repeated.
The butler squinted as if in deep confusion. He said, “I don’t know. You arrived and …”
He fell silent again.
Ruhl wondered …
Does he really not know anything at all?
Maybe the butler was faking his shock and perplexity.
Maybe he was actually the killer.
The possibility reminded Ruhl of the old cliché …
“The butler did it.”
The idea might even be funny under different circumstances.
But certainly not right now.
Ruhl thought fast, trying to decide what questions to ask the man.
He said, “Is there anybody else in the house?”
The butler replied in a dull voice, “Just the live-in help. Six servants in all aside from myself, three men and three women. Certainly you don’t think …?”
Ruhl had no idea what to think, at least not yet.
He asked the butler, “Is it possible that anyone else is in the house somewhere? An intruder, maybe?”
The butler shook his head.
“I don’t see how,” he said. “Our security system is of the very best.”
That’s not a no, Ruhl thought. Suddenly he felt quite alarmed.
If the killer was an intruder, might he still be in the house somewhere?
Or might he be slipping away at this very moment?
Then Ruhl heard Petrie talking into his microphone, giving someone instructions on how to find the bedroom in the huge mansion.
It seemed like only seconds until the room was swarming with cops. Among them was Chief Elmo Stiles, a bulky and imposing man. Ruhl was also surprised to see the county District Attorney, Seth Musil.
The normally smooth and polished DA looked disheveled and disoriented, as if he had just been roused out of bed. Ruhl guessed that the chief had contacted the DA as soon as he’d heard the news, then picked him up and brought him here.
The DA gasped with horror at what he saw and rushed toward the woman.
“Morgan!” he said.
“Hello, Seth,” the woman said, as if pleasantly surprised by his arrival. Ruhl wasn’t especially surprised that Morgan Farrell and a high-ranking politician like the DA knew each other. The woman still didn’t seem to be aware of much of anything else that was going on around her.
Smiling, the woman said to Musil, “Well, I suppose it’s obvious what happened. And I’m sure you’re not surprised that—”
Musil hastily interrupted.
“No, Morgan. Don’t say anything. Not just yet. Not until we get you a lawyer.”
Sergeant Petrie was already organizing the people in the room.
He said to the butler, “Tell them the layout of the house, every nook and cranny.”
Then he said to the cops, “I want the whole place searched for any intruders or any sign of a break-in. And check in with the live-in staff, make sure they can account for their actions during the last few hours.”
The cops gathered around the butler, who was on his feet now. The butler gave them directions, and the cops left the room. Not knowing what else to do, Ruhl stood next to Sergeant Petrie, looking over the grisly scene. The DA was now standing protectively over the smiling, blood-spattered woman.
Ruhl was still struggling to come to terms with what he was seeing. He reminded himself that this was his first homicide. He wondered …
Will I ever be involved in one weirder than this?
He also hoped that the cops searching the house wouldn’t return empty-handed. Maybe they’d come back with the real culprit. Ruhl hated the thought that this delicate, lovely woman was really capable of murder.
Long minutes passed before the cops and the butler returned.
They said they hadn’t found any intruders or any sign that anyone had broken into the house. They’d found the live-in staff asleep in their beds and had no reason to think that any of them were responsible.
The medical examiner and his team arrived and began to attend to the body. The huge room was really quite crowded now. At long last, the bloodstained woman of the house seemed to be aware of the bustle of activity.
She got up from her chair and said to the butler, “Maurice, where are your manners? Ask these good people if they’d like anything to eat or drink.”
Petrie walked toward her, taking out his handcuffs.
He said to her, “That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but it won’t be necessary.”
Then, in an extremely polite and considerate tone, he began to read Morgan Farrell her rights.
CHAPTER FOUR
Riley couldn’t help but worry as the court session unfolded.
So far, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Riley herself had testified about the kind of home she was trying to make for Jilly, and Bonnie and Arnold Flaxman had testified to Jilly’s desperate need for a stable family.
Even so, Riley felt uneasy about Jilly’s father, Albert Scarlatti.
She’d never actually seen the man before today. Judging from what Jilly had told her about him, she had pictured a grotesque ogre of a man.
But his actual appearance surprised her.
His once-black hair was heavily streaked with gray, and his dark features were, as she’d expected, ravaged from years of alcoholism. Even so, he seemed perfectly sober right now. He was dressed well but not expensively, and he was kindly and charming with everyone he talked to.
Riley also wondered about the woman sitting at Scarlatti’s side and holding his hand. She, too, looked as though she’d lived a hard life. Otherwise, her expression was difficult for Riley to read.
Who is she? Riley wondered.
All Riley knew about Scarlatti’s wife and Jilly’s mother was that she had disappeared many years ago. Scarlatti had often told Jilly that she’d probably died.
This couldn’t be her after all these years. Jilly had shown no sign of even knowing this woman. So who was she?
Now it was time for Jilly to speak.
Riley squeezed Jilly’s hand reassuringly, and the young teenager took the stand.
Jilly looked small in the big witness chair. Her eyes darted around the courtroom nervously, glancing at the judge, then making eye contact with her father.
The man smiled with what appeared to be sincere affection, but Jilly hastily averted her gaze.
Riley’s attorney, Delbert Kaul, asked Jilly how she felt about the adoption.
Riley could see Jilly’s whole body shake with emotion.
“I want it more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life,” Jilly said in an unsteady voice. “I’ve been so, so happy living with my mom—”
“You mean Ms. Paige,” Kaul said, gently interrupting.
“Well, she’s my mom now as far as I’m concerned, and that’s what I call her. And her daughter, April, is my big sister. Until I started living with them, I had no idea what it would be like—having a real family to love me and care for me.”
Jilly seemed to be bravely fighting back her tears.
Riley wasn’t sure that she was going to be able to do the same.
Then Kaul asked, “Can you tell the judge a little about what it was like living with your father?”
Jilly