Last to Know: A Novel(40)

“Just get me the butter, sweetheart,” she said to Diz, who did as he was asked, then stood anxiously next to her again.

“Mom, I have to tell you something,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you, but I have to, because, well because … I heard you on the phone, you said it was murder. And now I’m scared.”

Rose turned to look at him. Her son’s face was scrunched tight with the seriousness of what he needed to say. She turned out the gas under the beef and put her arms around him. “What can be so bad you can’t tell me?”

“I saw Dad that night, in his boat, rowing back from that woman’s house. Bea’s mom’s house.” He looked up at her. “Dad was there just before it exploded. I saw him. And I saw Bea, running into the lake … and Roman was in the woods too … Dad was there, Mom, when it happened … and Roman … and now the woman is dead … and I don’t know what else to say.”

Rose glanced round her kitchen, at the fettucini simmering gently, at the warmed plates ready for serving. Her life had just fallen apart but she pulled herself together and did what she must do, for the sake of her son who was staring anxiously up at her, and for the sake of her family, and for Wally because she would never, ever believe he had done anything wrong.

“Well,” she said, smiling at Diz, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll ask Dad about it later. He’ll explain everything. And I’m sure Roman just happened to be taking a walk. Now remember, we have a party going on. You can help the girls carry the plates. And don’t worry, everything will be all right.”

As she watched her boy walk slowly out of the kitchen, she hoped she was right.





29


Harry parked at the precinct and saw Rossetti sitting in his BMW, waiting for him. Rossetti opened the door for the dog, who jumped into the backseat, giving his neck an affectionate slurp before settling happily down.

“So what’s up?” Harry climbed in, just managing to slam the door before Rossetti took off.

“You are sitting on the evidence,” Rossetti said. “In the file under your ass.”

Harry pulled out the plastic file. In it were some photos.

Rossetti said, “We were checking the Havnel woman’s bank account—which, by the way, is more than substantial—close to nine hundred K—in a checking account, for God’s sake, not to mention what she might have in safe deposit boxes, which we have not yet been able to get a look at. Anyway, that’s almost not the point. We got hold of the bank security videos, just checkin’ … and there she is, our murdered Lacey Havnel standing in line, waiting her turn for the teller—and who do you think is right behind her? Perhaps even with her?”

Harry took a long look at the photos printed up from the video. “Jesus! Wally Osborne!”

“The lovely Rose’s famous husband.”

Harry studied the pictures. Something about Wally’s body language told him that here was a man trying to look as though he was not with the woman he was with. “You think he was cheating on Rose, with her?” he asked, looking up at Rossetti.

“That’s what we’re gonna find out.”

Harry shuffled through the photos again. Lacey Havnel was wearing crotch-high white shorts and a dangerously low-cut tank top.

“Hardly appropriate clothing for a visit to the bank,” he commented. “In fact I’d say it was more appropriate for a little come-on rendezvous with a man she had her sights on, like the famous writer, her neighbor.”

“I’d guess she was not the kind of woman to respect marriage. Or another woman’s husband.” Rossetti shrugged. “All’s fair in love and war was probably Ms. Havnel’s motto.” He handed Harry another photograph. “There’s more. This was taken outside the bank, on the security video.”

There were three pictures. In the first, Wally and Lacey were standing outside the bank. In the second Wally was handing her an envelope. In the third, she was kissing Wally full on the mouth.

“Rossetti,” Harry said, “are we looking at blackmail?”

“Sure looks that way to me, buddy.”

“So what do we suppose Wally Osborne got himself into, that this woman had the power to blackmail him?”

Rossetti shrugged again, unsure. “The guy has everything: success, fame, money, a good wife…”

Harry was thinking about that good wife, thinking that Rose Osborne had no idea of what was about to hit her. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked Rossetti, who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“I think we have a motive,” Rossetti said.

“Which doesn’t necessarily mean Wally killed her. The man’s intelligent, clever, he could have come to the police, talked to us about blackmail.”

“But he didn’t,” Rossetti said. “There’s another reason, Harry, and I’ll bet it involves his family. With a guy like that, it always does. He might be protecting someone. Aw, shit, man, I hate to be talking like this. That’s a nice family there, they don’t deserve what’s gonna happen to them…”

Harry held up a hand to stop him. “All that’s gonna happen right now are some questions,” he said. “And who would he be protecting anyway? Wait a minute, you don’t mean the son? Roman?”