Ghost on the Case (Bailey Ruth #8)(29)

“He will be a very wealthy man,” I observed quietly.

She continued her defense, a spot of pink in each cheek. “Ben made a lot of money in Hawaii. Wilbur told me and he was very proud of him.”

Sylvie asked quickly, “Who else was there?”

Susan was glad to move on. “Harry Hubbard, Wilbur’s stepson. Minerva Lloyd—” She shot an uncomfortable look at her sister.

Sylvie was nonchalant. “Wilbur’s mistress. Sis, I know about these things.”

Susan managed a smile. “—his friend. And Juliet Rodriguez—”

Sylvie broke in. “Juliet’s my psych prof. You know, the one I thought set up the contest. She’s great. She’s as nice as can be and she reminds me of champagne—”

Susan looked at her sister again.

Sylvie grinned. “I don’t sit around drinking champagne out of a slipper. But that sure sounds neat. I’ve read all about champagne, how even one glass makes you feel like a helium balloon. That’s why Juliet—she asks us to call her that—why she reminds me of champagne. Fizzy and fun. I can tell you that she never in a million years ever hurt anyone.”

Being in the same room with Sylvie was exhilarating and made me feel even younger than my favored twenty-seven, the kind of young that believes in unicorns and treasure maps and happy, happy serendipity. I hoped very much that Juliet Rodriguez never disappointed Sylvie. But here was a question that needed to be answered, and Wilbur Fitch’s secretary should know the answer. “Wilbur hired Juliet to catalogue his library. Did she have a background for that kind of work?”

Susan this time carefully didn’t look toward Sylvie. “Juliet worked at the college library when she was an undergrad.”

That scarcely met American Library Association standards for cataloguing. I continued to look inquiring.

“Well,” Susan said, “he put an ad in the Gazette. Two librarians applied. He had some really valuable old books. I think a Shakespeare folio and at least one Gutenberg Bible. Then he met Juliet at a party. Of course”—a glance at Sylvie—“she’s very charming and quite beautiful.”

I persisted. “Did he make any comment to you about Ms. Rodriguez?”

That brought a quick smile. “He said she made him feel like he was sixteen again and that was a hell of a good year and he liked having her around and he didn’t care if she catalogued the books in Esperanto. And that was just between us because Minerva wasn’t pleased.”

“Oh,” Sylvie breathed. “Do you think he was interested in Juliet?”

Susan avoided looking at either Sylvie or me.

“Come on,” her sister coaxed, “tell us.”

Susan said reluctantly, “A couple of weeks ago, I opened the library door. He was kissing her. I closed the door and they never knew I saw them.” She added hurriedly, “Minerva had no way of knowing.”

I didn’t dispute her conclusion, but I disagreed. A woman engaged in a long-standing affair, a woman who likely would have loved to be Mrs. Wilbur Fitch, would be highly attuned to the presence of a young and exceptionally beautiful woman in her lover’s employ.

“Poor Juliet.” Sylvie looked sad. “I didn’t know she was interested in him like that. I mean, he was pretty old.”

Susan said swiftly, “Wilbur wasn’t old. He was only forty-eight. He married when he was just nineteen. The first time. He packed more into one life than most people could in a dozen. He played racquetball and climbed mountains and liked to hang glide. And a lot of women like older men.”

Especially, I thought, if they were worth mega millions. But if Juliet and Wilbur were on kissing terms in the last couple of weeks, likely she had no motive for killing him. The same could not be said of Minerva.

Susan jammed her fingers together. “It’s awful to try and imagine someone killing Wilbur. Minerva’s smart and intriguing and hardworking. Her shop is a great success.”

Her defense of Minerva meant she could indeed imagine that Minerva might struggle with jealousy.

“One of seven is guilty,” I reminded her. “Give me Wilbur’s last comments about each one of them.”

She looked like I’d asked her to throw a lobster into boiling water. I didn’t doubt that she’d march the creature right back into the sea.

“Pretend you’re a reporter. A day in the life of a tycoon. Am I right that Wilbur didn’t mince words when he locked horns with people and he spent a lot of time locking horns?”

“He made a lot of noise. But he didn’t hold grudges. He wasn’t mean. He just said what he thought.” Again a wisp of a smile. “Loudly.”

“I want to know what he thought about the guests at that luncheon. Start with Ben Fitch.”

Susan took a little while to answer, then said in a rush, “Wilbur was excited to have Ben visiting. He told me he thought Ben had a great future. I think he wanted him to stay in Adelaide.” But she didn’t meet my gaze.

“George Kelly?” I remembered a photograph in the society page, big lanky guy, broad imposing face with a high forehead, bright blue eyes, bold nose, jutting chin. Easy to picture him wrestling down a calf or striding up and down in front of a jury, long arms gesturing.

“Bigger than life. I was surprised he and Wilbur got along as well as they did. But George always remembered who paid the bills. They did have a dustup a couple of weeks ago. George lost a lawsuit in Shawnee, and Wilbur was furious. He told George maybe it was time he found a new lawyer, that he thought he had a bull in the courtroom but it turned out to be a steer.” She looked at me questioningly.