Chapter 9

9

Reyes watches as Irena stares down at the body of Sheila Merton, her hand covering her mouth. Finally, she says, “She always wore two large diamonds—her engagement ring and another on her right hand.” She looks up at him. “They’re gone.”

A quick tour of the house in the company of the cleaning lady reveals a fuller picture. The silver is missing from the dining room, but none of the paintings, even the most valuable ones, have been touched. Fred’s study has been ransacked, but the safe, hidden behind a painting of a landscape, appears to have escaped the intruder’s notice. Still, they will have to get it opened.

Reyes and Barr climb the staircase to the second floor, stepping carefully to avoid the blood trail. A chandelier hangs down in the center, and as Reyes draws level with it, he notes the absence of dust. They enter the master bedroom—it’s at the front of the house, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lawn and gardens. It’s a large room, with a king-size bed and matching walnut dressers. The drawers have been pulled open roughly, clothes spilling out. A handbag has been dumped haphazardly onto the unmade bed, some smears of blood on its pale leather surface. Fred’s and Sheila’s wallets have been emptied of cash and credit cards and flung to the floor.

The jewelry box on Sheila’s dresser is open and askew, as if someone had pawed hurriedly through it. The bloody smudges confirm it. Reyes stands beside Irena and together they look down into the empty velvet interior. “She had some diamond dinner rings, some pricey earrings and bracelets, some pearls—but she might have kept those in the safe downstairs,” she tells them. “The insurance company will have a record.”

The detectives thank Irena once they are back outside. As they head to their car, Reyes thinks, We’ll catch them when they try to use the credit cards or fence the jewelry. Whoever it was took only things that were easy to carry, easy to convert to cash.

But it was such a savage crime. Perhaps it wasn’t primarily a robbery at all.

---

•   •   •the detectives pull up outside Catherine Merton’s downtown medical practice. Reyes has sent a pair of uniforms to the homes of each of the other siblings to do the dreaded dead knock—to inform them of the murder of their parents before they hear it on the news. Neither Dan nor Jenna Merton have a workplace at the moment, according to Irena.

It’s a busy clinic, with several different practitioners sharing space. The detectives find the front desk on the third floor, show identification, and ask for Dr. Catherine Merton. The receptionist’s eyes widen when she sees their badges. “I’ll get her for you,” she says, and leaves the desk.

When she returns, she says, “If you don’t mind waiting in Room C just down this hall—she’ll join you in a couple of minutes.”

Reyes and Barr make their way to the examination room. They don’t have to wait long.

There’s a light knock on the door and then a woman in her early thirties, wearing a white coat, enters the room. Reyes studies her carefully. She’s pleasant looking, with regular features. Her black hair is shoulder length, parted at the side, and she wears pearls around her neck. Her eyes are full of inquiry.

“I’m Dr. Merton,” the woman says. “My receptionist said you wanted to see me?”

Reyes introduces them and says, “I’m afraid we have some terrible news.” She seems to falter. “Perhaps you should sit down,” he suggests, and Catherine sinks into a plastic chair, while he and Barr remain standing.

She looks up at them and swallows. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid it’s your parents. They’ve been found dead in their home.” He lets this sink in.

She stares back at him in disbelief. “What?” she gasps.

Reyes says as gently as he can, “They were murdered.”

Her shock seems genuine. They wait as she processes the news. Finally, she asks, appalled, “What happened?”

“It looks like a robbery gone wrong,” Reyes says. “Money was taken, credit cards, jewelry.”

“I can’t believe it,” she says. She looks up at him and asks fearfully, “How did they die?”

There’s no easy way to say it, and she will find out soon enough. “Your mother was strangled; your father was stabbed, and his throat was slit,” Reyes says quietly.

“No . . .” Catherine Merton whispers, shaking her head mournfully, her hand pressed up against her mouth as if she might retch. When she’s able, she asks in a choked voice, “When—when did this happen?”

“We don’t know yet,” Reyes says. “Ms. Dabrowski found them, around eleven o’clock this morning. She mentioned that there was a family dinner on Easter Sunday?”

She nods. “Yes. We were all there on Sunday.”

“And was everything fine then?”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Was there any sign of anything being wrong? Did your parents seem different, nervous, like anything was bothering them?”

“No. Everything was the same as usual.”

“What time did you leave their house?” Reyes asks.

“About seven o’clock,” she says distractedly.

“Did you have any contact with your parents anytime after that?”

She shakes her head. “No.” She’s staring down at her hands in her lap now.

“We think they were killed sometime later Sunday night, or early Monday morning,” Reyes tells her.

“How much money do you think your parents were worth?” Barr asks bluntly.

Catherine looks up at her, taken aback. “They were wealthy. I don’t know how wealthy, exactly.”

“Ballpark?” Barr says.

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask their lawyer,” she says. “Walter Temple, at Temple Black.” She rises from the chair. “I—I have to talk to my brother and sister.”

Reyes nods. “They’re being informed now as well,” he says. “We’re so sorry for your loss.” He hands her his card. “We’ll be in touch shortly, of course, about the investigation. We’ll see ourselves out.”