A Portrait of Emily (18 page)

“I doubt if he’d let Emily take the rap though.”

“Well, they haven’t actually arrested her yet. He might be waiting to see what’s going to happen there.”

“God, Jeff. What an awful thing. It would destroy Emily.”

“Let’s hope we’re wrong, then.”

“I hope Patricia did it.”

“What?”

“Well, it would be poetic justice in a way,” Peter said. “Wronged wife finally slays predatory husband. Something she should have done years ago.”

“Wow, you
are
into an eye for an eye, aren’t you?” Jeff laughed at Peter’s dramatics.

“Darned right I am. That old bastard should have been stopped long ago. Think of the evil he’s done in his lifetime.”

“Yep,” Jeff responded. “Can’t argue there.”

The atmosphere in the Hastings household was tense when Jeff and Peter showed up. Patricia still sat in her corner, glaring at the rest of the people in the room. Gloria sat with Emily and Jerry on the couch, talking in low voices. Johnny and Anthony were standing by the fireplace having a drink, also engaged in conversation.

Emily looked up at Peter and tried to smile. “Thanks for coming guys.”

“Anything happen since we last talked?” Jeff asked Johnny.

“‘Fraid not. Have you had any thoughts on all of this?”

“Several.” Jeff looked directly at Anthony. “None of them very flattering to the members of this family.”

Anthony gaped at him. “You think
I
did it?”

“Let’s put it this way. I think you
could
have done it, Anthony. You hated your father, you’ve said so yourself.”

“But I didn’t kill him.”

“Tell me more about what you did yesterday. You said you met someone in a bar. D’you have his phone number?”

“Yeah, like I said, we were going to meet later this week. He gave me his number so we could fix a time.”

“Can I have the number?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Anthony,” Johnny put his hand on the young man’s arm. “Jeff is simply doing what we’ve asked him to. If he can check out your alibi, we’re one step ahead of the police who are bound to question you at some point.”

“I know, I know…” Anthony tugged out a piece of paper from his jeans pocket. He handed it to Jeff who looked at the neat handwriting.

“Mind if I call him?”

“Just don’t tell him I’m under suspicion of murdering my father. I don’t think he’ll be too keen on having a date with a suspected killer.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep it generic.”

“Anthony,” Patricia wailed from her corner. “Please come and sit with me.”

Jeff and Johnny watched as Anthony dutifully went over to his mother and sat on the floor by her side.

“He’s going to have his hands full with her, I’m afraid,” Johnny remarked.

Jeff pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll just make that quick call.”

He walked into the kitchen and punched in the number Anthony had given him. He felt a rush of relief as he heard a man’s voice say, “Hi, this is Justin. Can’t take your call. Please leave me a message.” He didn’t leave a message, but instinctively he felt sure the rest of what Anthony had told them was the truth.
Better check out the baths,
he thought,
just to be on the safe side
. But he was pretty certain Anthony’s alibi would hold. He jotted down Justin’s phone number, just in case he’d need it again.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed. A part of him still could not quite believe that Joey was gone. He knew they could never have been close friends again. Too much distance had grown in their separate lives over the years for them now to have been more than just casual friends. The Peter/Joey equation would never have worked out. Nevertheless, he would have been happy to see Joey finally succeed in what he did well. If only he hadn’t been such a user.

“Hey…”

He looked up as Peter walked into the kitchen. “Hey.”

Peter put his arms around him and nuzzled his neck. “Still sad about Joey?”

Jeff nodded then rested his head on Peter’s shoulder for a moment. “Thanks for being here with me.”

“Come on. You’ve done enough here.” Peter kissed his cheek. “Let me take you home.”

“Sounds good.”

They went back into the living room, and Jeff returned the slip of paper with Justin’s phone number to Anthony. Gloria and Johnny were preparing to leave with Emily and Jerry. Anthony walked with them to the door.

He hugged his sister.

“Don’t worry Sis…I’ll talk to Mom and get her off this kick she’s on. She just doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

Emily looked at her brother gravely. “Yes she does, Anthony. Don’t let her fool you. She hates me and blames me for all of this.”

“I’ll come with you and Johnny tomorrow when you make your statement. I can tell the cops she doesn’t mean any of this.”

“That’d be good.” Johnny said. “I’ll pick you up around nine.”

§ § § §

“I don’t know about you,” Peter remarked as he and Jeff drove down Coast Highway, “But I’m truly starving. We haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“You’re right. I’d settle for just about anything yummy right now.
You
look mighty delicious.”

“Hold that thought. I’ll serve myself up as dessert when we get home.” Peter pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant they had never been to before. “Let’s try this place. Andrew said it’s pretty good.”

“Then it must be so,” Jeff laughed, getting out of the car. “By the way, have we heard from them yet?”

“Yeah, I had an e-mail the other day. So much has been going on I forgot to tell you, and I haven’t answered it yet. He’ll be pissed.”

“Well, you have many an excuse,” Jeff said, holding the restaurant door open for him. The warm air and home cooking smells assailed them, making them even hungrier. A pretty hostess showed them to a table and flirted with them both as she took their drink orders.

“So, what did Andrew have to say?” Jeff asked after she left.

“Oh, he misses us. David is at work all the time and he hasn’t found a job yet, so he’s thinking of becoming a male stripper or something.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Right…and if I know Andrew, he’ll soon pull it together and start his own business.”

“So…” Jeff said, changing the subject. “Still think the mother did it?”

“I didn’t say I thought she did it, I said I hope she did it.”

“It’s quite a mess isn’t it? Charles Hastings murderer could be his wife, his daughter, his son, his future son-in-law…”

“Or the butler, or the cook,” Peter added, grinning. “It’s beginning to remind me of that old Agatha Christie movie, Murder on the Orient Express. Turned out,
everyon
e was the murderer!”

Jeff chuckled. “I could use another of your psychic flashes round about now. Can’t you bring one on?”

Peter frowned and looked down as if in total concentration for a moment, then he looked back up at Jeff and winked. “Nope, nobody home.”

“If only it were that easy.”

“If only. It’s Jerry I keep worrying about. Now when I think back on when he met me for lunch, he looked…guilty.”

“Mmm. Well, I can check out his story. Someone else at his office had to be involved in the last minute business he described.”

“That’s true, and believe me, I hope I’m wrong about him.”

“And Emily,” Jeff said. “Remember, she’s the one under most suspicion. Her mother has most definitely planted a seed in the detective’s minds.”

“Huh…They’re way off base if they think for one moment she’s capable of murder,”

“You know, Peter, that same thing has been said about many murderers. People have gone on oath to say a particular person could never have done such a heinous thing, and often they have been proved terribly wrong.”

Peter’s eyes reflected his dismay. “Tell me
you
don’t think she did this, Jeff.”

Jeff sighed. “I wish I could say that with complete certainty Peter, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Did you notice the strange looks Peter was giving me earlier?” Jerry asked, looking intently at Emily. They were at Gloria and Johnny’s house where Emily was staying for the time being. Their hosts had gone upstairs to bed, leaving Emily and Jerry alone to say goodnight.

“Uh uh,” Emily murmured.

“He thinks I did it.”

“Did what?”

“Murdered your father. I could see it on his face. He’s probably thinking that because I was late for our lunch date, I was in your father’s office sticking a knife in his head.”

“A letter opener,” Emily said.

“What?”

“It was a letter opener, not a knife. See, you couldn’t have done it or you’d have known it wasn’t a knife.”

Jerry smiled at her. “You should be a detective.”

“Of course, you could have just used that slip to make it
seem
you hadn’t done it.”

“Oh, great, now
you
think I did it.”

“No, I don’t.” Emily kissed him on the cheek. “But, I wouldn’t blame you if you had, after what I told you the other night.”

“Would you still love me if I had killed him?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to wait years for you to get out of jail.”

“You know…” Jerry put his arms around Emily. “What I don’t get is, here’s your father lying in the morgue and no one is feeling any remorse. No one is crying for him. Are we all so unfeeling that we can’t spare one tiny feeling of regret for his passing?”

Emily rested her head on his chest and sighed. “My father killed any feelings I had for him a long time ago. I can’t pretend I’m sorry he’s dead. I’m not sorry, Jerry. He was evil through and through. Just
how
evil I don’t think anyone really knows. Paula and I had firsthand knowledge of just how perverted he was, but I really believe it goes even further than that.”

Jerry tightened his embrace around her. “I wish I had killed him—for you. When I think of what he did—”

Emily put her finger to his lips. “Hush, Jerry. Don’t let’s go there. It’s over now. He can’t hurt me or Paula—or
anyone,
ever again. We’re finally free of him.”

“But what about your mother? Her ranting, off the wall though it is, could really cause trouble.”

“That’s all it is, Jerry—ranting. She really doesn’t believe it. She just hates me and wants to cause me more grief.”

“But coming from her, your
mother,
must mean the police have to check it out.”

“Look, Jerry…” Emily stepped back from his arms. “I’m sure every one of us is a suspect at the moment. We all have motive. The only person really in the clear, is Paula. She and her husband are in Vancouver on a business trip. Everyone else—you, me, my mother, Anthony, and who knows who else had motive and, maybe, the time to do it.”

Jerry stared at her, for the moment, lost for words.

“You’re forgetting me.” Gloria stepped into the room. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep so I came down for some hot tea. Anyone else?”

They followed her into the kitchen. She glanced at them over her shoulder as she filled the electric kettle. “Remember I hated your father too. Ever since you told me what he’d done I’ve hated him, and then what he tried to do to you the other night—that really pissed me off.”

“But, you didn’t do it, Gloria, did you?”

“No, but I could have.” Gloria turned to face them. “Jerry, promise me you are going to look after this little girl and protect her with every fiber you have in your body.”

Emily laughed softly. “Gloria, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I mean it,” Gloria said. “You deserve the best. Are
you
the best, Jerry?”

“I—I don’t know,” Jerry stuttered. “I’ve never thought about it. All I know is, I love Emily and nothing can change that.”

“You’d better mean that.” Gloria looked him straight in the eye. “Or you’ll have me to reckon with, pardner.”

Emily stared at her cousin. “Gloria, what on earth…?”

“I’m just so mad at the way your mother has turned on you, Emily. That old, bitter witch is determined to blame you for everything. It’s obvious she even blames you for what happened years ago—and now you and Anthony are close again, she feels threatened—so she has to get rid of you.”

“But, surely she knows this would never stand up in court?” Jerry interrupted. “Who’s going to think Emily capable of murder?”

“What her father did to her for years is good enough reason for some people to think she just
might
be capable. And people have murdered for a lot less. Johnny is taking this seriously, Emily. Don’t think he isn’t.” Her expression softened. “All I’m saying is this, Jerry; you need to be strong over the next few days to see Emily through whatever comes her way. She’s going to need all our support, but
yours
especially.”

“You know she has that,” Jerry said, putting his arm around Emily’s waist.

Gloria sighed. “You’re just so darn cute, the pair of you. It tears me up to think that old shrew of a mother of yours would want to ruin everything for you, Emily.”

“She won’t,” Emily said. “No matter what happens; Jerry and I are getting married when all this is cleared up.”

Gloria hugged them both. “Well, I’m taking my tea upstairs. So, I’ll let you two say goodnight properly and I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” they chorused at her retreating figure.

Jerry’s smile was rueful. “She is really something, that cousin of yours.”

Emily took his hand. “She’s been a wonderful friend to me all these years. She was the only one, apart from Anthony, who knew what I’d been through
and
who cared about me.”

“Well, now you have
me
to care about you.” Jerry drew her back into his arms and kissed her.

Her response to the urgency in his lips filled Jerry with a need he found hard to control. Both of them were trembling. They broke off their kiss and looked into each other’s eyes.

There, in her shy, sweet smile of longing, was the answer he desired above all else.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.” Emily took his hand and led him upstairs.

They must have dozed off for a while afterwards, for they were suddenly aware of a soft light creeping in through the windows of the bedroom. Jerry sat up, shivering and rubbing his eyes. He smiled sheepishly at her.