Ghost on the Case (Bailey Ruth #8)(33)

“Did you often stay all night at his home?”

Her shoulders lifted and fell in a slight shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Last night?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I chose not to do so.” For an instant, the veneer that protected her cracked. “Oh, I wish I had. I almost did. If I’d been there, he might not have been killed.” She stared at me. “Do you know why he went downstairs?”

I had no idea what Harry Hubbard had told Minerva in his call. “Mr. Fitch was found in his study. He may have discovered a theft in progress. Or there is a possibility that someone he knew came to his door, said there was a light in the study and perhaps they should investigate. If that is what happened, he went downstairs with another person and was struck down from behind when standing near the safe.”

Her gaze bored into me. “The police think he knew who killed him.”

“Yes.”

“Wilbur dead is horrible, but to think someone he knew killed him is truly awful.” Her hands came together in a tight grip. The eyes staring at me were dark with pain.

“What was Mr. Fitch’s demeanor when you said good night?”

For an instant, she pressed her lips together, finally managed a slight smile. “Wilbur had a grand time at the party. He was proud of the company. Proud of himself and he deserved to be proud. He did so much and he did it all by himself. He was so happy. He certainly didn’t expect someone to kill him. I still can’t believe it’s true.”

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes.” She gave her address, a nice area in an older section of town. “The party ended a little after midnight. I said good night to Wilbur, drove home. I was just leaving for the store this morning when Harry called me.”

“Did you return to the mansion at”—I gave it a guess—“around one a.m.?”

“No.”

I nodded and rose. “Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Lloyd.”

She rose, too.

At the door I turned as if struck by a final thought. “I understand you were displeased that Mr. Fitch planned to take a holiday with a Ms. Juliet Rodriguez.”

Her reply was sharp. “That’s not accurate. Wilbur was always too kind to employees. She heard him talking about a flight down to Dallas on business and persuaded him to invite her. He flew his own plane. I doubt she’s ever been on a private plane.” Her tone was dismissive. She, of course, was quite accustomed to private planes. “She’s rather a greedy young woman. She persuaded him to buy her some emeralds.” Minerva’s eyes were hard. “He would have found out soon enough that she was taking advantage of him.”

“You and Mr. Fitch quarreled?”

“Wilbur and I never quarreled.” A confident stare.

“You were overheard.”

She raised a sleek eyebrow. “Those who eavesdrop often mishear. Wilbur assured me she’d asked for a ride to Dallas and he was going to be quite busy but he didn’t mind if she came along.” A negligent wave of one hand with scarlet-tipped nails. “It wasn’t important.”

“If it wasn’t important, I’m surprised you brought the matter up with him.”

She made no reply.

“How much money did Wilbur leave you in his will?”

“I fail to see why you ask.”

“It’s important to establish who profits from his death.”

Her cheekbones looked sharp. “That is offensive. Wilbur was well and strong and should have lived to be eighty. I never expected to inherit anything from him.”

“How much was the bequest?”

She took her time answering. Should she claim lack of knowledge? Should she refuse to answer? Finally, she said brusquely, “Wilbur loved to joke about being worth more dead than alive to his good friends. He counted me as a good friend. If I remember correctly I believe he said I would someday inherit five hundred thousand dollars.”

I rather thought she remembered the sum with great clarity.

Perhaps with Minerva the crime, if she were the killer, came down to both sex and money.

? ? ?

I hoped Minerva Lloyd truly mourned her lover. She could be a clever murderess playing a role, but I hoped that wasn’t the case. We all need love and I hoped Wilbur Fitch had known love. The young woman who made him feel sixteen again regretted his demise, but there was no sense of grief. Both the woman with whom he’d shared passion and the charming young professor were quite aware that they would soon be much better off financially than they’d been before. Especially perhaps Minerva. Was her hostility to Juliet based more on the feeling that Wilbur’s interest in Juliet meant Minerva would not be the third Mrs. Fitch? That might have caused not only jealously and anger, but a determination to get money while the getting was good.

Wilbur Fitch was very rich. Now it was time to find out who else benefitted from his death.

In one of my previous excursions to Adelaide, I spent some time in the offices of a well-heeled law firm. I realized immediately that the offices of Kelly and Wallis on the second floor of a frame building near a midtown shopping area were second tier. The waiting area contained two leather sofas, three plastic-covered chairs, and a secretary’s metal desk. A thin, harried-looking woman punched buttons on a copy machine. She had fine brown hair in a bun, a slender gentle face, and a worried expression. “I’ll call the computer service department again. I can’t get it to collate.”