Tips for Living(53)

“We should look into Stokes Diekmann. He was sleeping with Helene.”

Clearly interested, Gubbins sat down. I began to share my suspicions about Stokes, reporting on the sexual dynamics between him and Helene, as well as Hugh’s response to them at the bowling alley.

“Helene was using Stokes to provoke Hugh, and I’m sure both men knew it. Eric Warschuk saw them all behaving badly at the Thunder Bar. He can confirm the affair and the tension.”

Gubbins listened intently from the swivel chair next to mine, his hands in prayer position under his chin, his eyes distorted and magnified behind thick glasses. Big as fly eyes. He was quiet.

“Stokes was also on the ambulance team that was assigned to pick up the Walkers’ bodies for the coroner. But he couldn’t do the job. He couldn’t even make himself go into the house. He abandoned his post. He was very nervous. I think he couldn’t face bagging his victims’ bodies. Especially in front of the police.”

Gubbins was studying me closely.

“How do you know all this? Who told you?”

His speed in analyzing my “testimony” and finding the hiccup was impressive. He could go toe-to-toe with Perry Mason any day. I had to trust my lawyer and tell the truth.

“I was at Pequod Point the morning of the murders. I saw it all. I drove Stokes to work from there.”

I didn’t give Gubbins a chance to ask why I was at the crime scene. I launched into an account of the strange way Stokes had behaved in my car.

“He wanted to talk about dead bodies. His in-laws’ dead bodies. They were asphyxiated by a malfunctioning boiler . . .”

“Yes. I read about that in your interview with his wife. Terrible thing. That’s how the Diekmanns came into the money to buy Van Winkle Lanes. ‘A dream built on tragedy,’ I believe you wrote.”

“You’ve got an amazing memory. You’re right. Stokes’s dream to own a bowling alley was made possible by his wife’s inheritance.” Oh Jesus. It hit me that Kelly was living with a likely murderer. Would he hurt her? “But listen . . .”

I began spinning the story like a Grimms’ fairy tale.

“Since that car ride, I’ve been thinking . . . Stokes told me he was the first to find the bodies of his in-laws. In their bed. You should have heard the way he spoke about them. He hated them. Suppose he caused that carbon monoxide leak so that he and Kelly could inherit their money? Suppose he was the one who killed them? And just in case there’s something he missed, he makes sure he’s the first person at the scene. That gives him more control of the situation and an excuse for any of his prints, DNA, etcetera being found in the house, right?”

“Possibly.”

“And now we have Hugh and Helene, another couple that Stokes knew. They were also found dead in bed. Coincidence? Or did Stokes kill again? He was Helene’s spurned lover. He had two motives: jealousy and humiliation. I’m sure he hated the Walkers. He could have murdered Hugh and Helene. He could be framing me for it. And now Kelly could be in danger.”

Gubbins nodded solemnly. “So you went to Pequod Point. Why?”

“Wait. What do you think of my Stokes theory?”

“I’d like to know why you went to Pequod Point.”

I felt myself squirming under Gubbins’s gaze. “I was curious, I guess.”

“Curious.”

“Yes.”

“Remember, I’m on your team, Ms. Glasser.”

I sighed. “Okay. All right.” I stood up and walked to the bar, then turned around and faced him reluctantly. “You might not believe this, but I really don’t know why I went. I wasn’t thinking straight. I was upset when I heard about the murders. I couldn’t accept what had happened. I guess I needed to make it real.”

Gubbins nodded. “That makes more sense.”

“The point is, Stokes was acting guilty about something that morning. He wouldn’t go into Hugh and Helene’s house. He left the scene. He was talking about seeing dead bodies. He seemed haunted by them. Crazed, in fact.”

Gubbins adjusted his glasses. He didn’t speak.

“Well? What do you think?” I pressed.

“It’s clear you’re a writer,” Gubbins said, leaning back in his chair. “There might be something to it. But we’ll need a better witness to the affair than Eric Warschuk if we’re going to interest the DA.”

“Pardon me, but Eric Warschuk is a decorated war hero who gave his leg for his country.”

“Yes. I also remember reading that a few months ago, in your article about him adopting a dog.”

I was astounded. Did he have a photographic memory?

“A very moving piece. But you reported that he’d been under psychiatric treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder. As a witness, he’s compromised.”

“Dammit, of course.” Where was my head? Cross-examination basics. I’d blown my case.

Gubbins rubbed his chin. “There may be someone else who knew about the affair . . . perhaps those people Hugh and Helene went bowling with? The ‘artsy’ couple?”

“Maybe. But I have no idea who they are.”

Gubbins made a note. “I’ll look into it. As for Kelly, I wouldn’t worry. If Stokes is our man, he’d be playing nice these days so as not to attract suspicion. Now . . . you said the police took your jeans from the wash. Did you launder them the night of the murder?”