Envy(136)

“Only the medications he was taking. We checked out the prescriptions with his physician in New York. Dating from when they were last refilled, the correct amount of dosages remained. There was no sign that a struggle had taken place anywhere in the house.”

“You found his cane in his bedroom?”

“Leaning against the nightstand, and yes, we checked it for prints,” he said before she could ask. “His were the only ones on it. No evidence of a break-in by an intruder. Not a mark on your father’s body except for the cut on his head, which the ME said was consistent with the fall. He also places the time of death within minutes of when Mr. Reed’s 911 call was received. That’s all documented.”

He removed his glasses and rested his clasped hands on top of the binder containing the report. He cleared his throat and looked at her sympathetically. “When a tragic accident like this occurs and someone dies, their loved ones look for reasons. A scapegoat. Something or someone to blame. I know it’s hard for you to accept, but it appears that your father ran into some difficulty as he was making his way upstairs. He lost his balance and suffered a fatal fall. I’m sorry, Mrs. Matherly-Reed.”

Maris was neither heartened nor disappointed. The findings were exactly what she had expected them to be. She gathered her handbag and stood. Reaching across the desk, she shook hands with the police chief. “I appreciate your time and effort.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I’ve put your house on our regular drive-by route. We’ll keep a check on it for you.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

Once outside, Maris made a beeline for her car. Noah caught up with her before she could get in.

He gripped her upper arm, pulled her around, and pushed his face close to hers. “Satisfied?”

“Completely.” Looking at him evenly, she said, “I’m convinced beyond a shadow of doubt that you were the ‘difficulty’ Dad encountered on his way up the staircase.”

His narrow lips stretched into a smile that raised the hair on the back of her neck. “There’s absolutely nothing to substantiate these nasty suspicions of yours.”

“Let go of my arm, Noah, or I’m going to start screaming bloody murder. That nice chief of police would dearly love to rush to my rescue.”

Seeing the wisdom of letting go, he did.

“Chief Randall might be interested to know that my father had retained Mr. William Sutherland to investigate you.”

“Which is circumstantial. So where does that get you?”

“Nowhere. You made certain there was no evidence of wrongdoing. But you underestimate my ability to recognize a good plot.”

“This isn’t a novel.”

“Unfortunately. But if it were, I would suspect you of being the villain. Part of my job is to isolate a character’s motivation, right? His goal must be clear or the story has no legs on which to stand. Well, Noah, you goal is glaringly apparent. Why did you shuttle Dad off to the country house while I was conveniently out of town, especially since we were separated? Why, when you enjoy being waited on, did you insist that Maxine remain in the city?

“You lied about Nadia. You lied about taking up writing again. What else have you lied about? WorldView? Surely. On that I would bet everything I hold dear. When Morris Blume inadvertently mentioned that secret meeting to me, you finessed your way through an explanation. You had covered your rear by informing Dad of it, on the outside chance that one of us would get wind of it. But I wasn’t convinced of your innocence then, and I’m even more certain of your guilt now.

“I think Dad was on to you. Why else would he retain Mr. Sutherland? I think he knew you were dirty-dealing. Maybe he even had proof. When he confronted you with it, you killed him.

“I hope you haven’t committed murder in the hope of securing a deal with WorldView. Because if you have, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Understand this, Noah. Matherly Press will remain autonomous, just as it always has been.”

“Be very careful, Maris.” His voice was low, but it vibrated with menace. He reached up and took a strand of her hair, winding it tightly around his index finger. To anyone passing by who happened to glance at them, it would look like an affectionate gesture. But he pulled the strand of hair taut enough to hurt.

“It’s you who needs to understand this,” he said. “Nobody is going to prevent me from having everything I want.”

She had been right to fear him the night before she left for Georgia. The latent violence she had sensed in him then hadn’t been imagined. She had glimpsed an evil component of Noah that was no longer content to lie dormant.

But, oddly, she was no longer afraid of him. He had lost the power to intimidate or frighten her. She laughed softly. “What are you going to do, Noah? Push me down a staircase, too?”

“Daniel alone was responsible for his death. He lost his temper, reacted recklessly, temporarily forgot his physical limitations, and suffered the consequences. If you want to place blame, place it on him. But,” he continued silkily, “I’ll admit that his death was very convenient.”

She recoiled and, because he still had hold of her hair, the sudden movement caused a painful yank on her scalp. It was sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes. But she hardly noticed. Because the yank on her memory had been even sharper.