“Okay. Good to know.”
“Can I ask you a question, Judge Crawford?” Roger interjected.
“This is Roger Dillon, my new partner. This is his first homicide case.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Crawford said. “Listen to Detective Quinlan. He’s one of the bright spots in the bureau. Now, what did you want to know?”
“Is Mr. Chesterfield really British and from London?”
“That’s what he claims. Why?”
“Just an idea. Can you tell me anything more about his background?”
“Sorry, but I don’t know him well. For that matter, I don’t think any of the members did.”
Crawford left and Quinlan turned to his partner. “What’s your idea?”
“I met a Scotland Yard inspector at a conference a year ago. I thought I’d give him a ring to see if he knows anything about Chesterfield. He seems to be our only lead.”
“I’m not so sure about Moser,” Ragland said. “He seemed a little melodramatic. It could be he was putting on an act.”
“I didn’t get that impression, Pete. His grief seems genuine,” Quinlan said. Dillon could tell that his partner was restraining himself.
“Yeah, well, he could be a good actor. Let’s not cross him off our list yet.”
“Sure thing,” Quinlan said. “Say, Pete, do you know Chesterfield?”
“I know who he is. I have a bridge group I play with every Wednesday night when I can. We were short a man one evening and he sat in. That’s about it.”
“What are your impressions?” Quinlan asked.
“I don’t really have any. He seemed to know his bidding, if I remember correctly, but I can’t recall anything he said. I don’t know if I spoke to him after that.”
“Did you witness any of the behavior that led to Chesterfield leaving?”
“No. This job keeps me pretty busy, so I don’t get to the club as much as I’d like to.”
“Okay. The lab techs should be done with the crime scene by now, so Roger and I are going to take a look.”
As soon as Ragland and the detectives left the conference room, they heard someone yelling on the floor below. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they saw two police officers blocking a muscular young man in a garage mechanic’s uniform, who was trying to get around them.
Samuel Moser put a restraining hand on the distraught man’s arm. “Please, Gary,” he pleaded.
The man shook off Moser’s hand. “Let go of me.”
Ragland and the detectives joined the group.
“What’s going on?” the deputy DA asked.
“This is Gary Randall, Sophie’s husband,” Moser explained.
“Is she … When Margie called, she said she was…”
“She didn’t suffer,” Moser lied. “It was very fast.”
“Please, I have to see her,” Gary pleaded. “I won’t cause any trouble.”
Quinlan stepped between the officers and Randall. “I know you want to see your wife, but she’s passed and she’s at peace. You don’t want to see her now. You should remember her the way she was the last time you saw her, when she was happy. That’s the memory you want.”
Randall’s shoulders sagged and he started to sob. Quinlan escorted Randall into a room off the lobby and sat him on a sofa. Moser sat beside him.
Randall looked up, his eyes filled with tears. “Who would want to do this?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Quinlan assured him. “We have our best people looking for evidence that will lead us to the person who hurt your wife.”
“Where’s Jane?” Moser asked.
Randall looked as though he’d been punched in the gut. “Oh God. How can I tell her that Sophie is—?” He broke down again, unable to say the word.
“Jane?” Quinlan asked.
“Their daughter,” Moser explained.
“Is someone with her?” Moser asked Randall.
“She’s in school.”
“You should go to her,” Quinlan said. “Your daughter needs you now. Do you feel up to driving?”
Randall wiped his eyes and took some deep breaths. “I’ll be okay. When can I see Sophie to say goodbye?”
“Give these officers your contact information and I’ll make sure it’s soon,” Quinlan said.
“Thank you.”
Quinlan squeezed Randall’s shoulder. Then he led Dillon and Ragland out of the room.
“Poor bastard,” Dillon said.
“This is the part of this job I hate,” Quinlan told him. “And it never gets easier.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Morris Quinlan had been sitting in the reception area of the accounting firm of Fisk & Combe for fifteen minutes when a severe-looking woman in a gray business suit walked out of a long hall and stopped in front of him.
“Mr. Quinlan?” the woman asked.
“Actually, it’s Detective Quinlan.” He stood up. “And you’re Eileen Paulson?”
“Yes.” Paulson frowned. “Is this about a client?”
“No. I’m with Homicide, and it concerns your father, Arthur Gentry.”
Paulson’s features hardened. “It’s about time. Come back to my office.”
Paulson’s office was halfway down the hall. She had a window with a view of the Willamette River and enough space to let you know that she was a partner in the firm. The decorations were austere, mostly college degrees and professional certificates. The few personal items were a picture of Mrs. Paulson, her husband, and their child, and a framed crayon drawing of a stick figure father, mother, and child standing in front of a house that Quinlan assumed was a tribute to the daughter’s artistic talent.
“Why did you say that it was about time when I said I was from Homicide?” Quinlan asked when they were seated.
“Two years ago, when it happened, I told the investigating officers that there was something suspicious about my father’s death, but they brushed me off.”
“What made you think something was wrong?”
“My mother passed away several years ago and my father was horribly depressed. We had a wonderful relationship and he moved in for a while. Being around Jill, his granddaughter, was a tonic. After a while, he moved back to his house, but we spoke or visited all the time. But what really pulled him out of his depression was his relationship with Lily Dowd.
“Dad and Mom were longtime members of the Westmont Country Club, and they were very good friends with Lily and her husband, Frank. Frank passed away a year after my mother, and Lily and my father grew close. They started showing up at club events together and I thought they might get married. Then Robert Chesterfield showed up.
“Lily met him in London. She had a place there and she moved to London to get away from Oregon for a while because of the bad memories of her husband’s death. I don’t know what happened in London, but Chesterfield showed up in Portland shortly after Lily returned and started going after her. Lily is very wealthy and Chesterfield is a predator. That was obvious from the get-go, only Lily couldn’t see that.