Chapter 38

38

Catherine wakes up Sunday morning, still drained from the long and difficult day before. She picks up the newspaper outside her door and sees reporters and TV trucks in the street. Up until now the press had mostly left them alone. They surge toward her and she quickly slams the door. She looks down at the paper in her hands.

The Aylesford Record has again run the story about her parents’ murders on the front page. But this time it’s different. There’s a photograph, and it makes her suck in her breath—a candid shot of that awful moment in the church when Dan started spilling his venom to that detective. Catherine studies the photo—she looks cold and angry. Dan is animated, Jenna startled. It’s a very unflattering photograph of the family, and it makes her cringe. Catherine walks slowly into the kitchen and sits down at the table, reading the article quickly, with growing distaste. The distance and the respect afforded the Mertons thus far because of their wealth and position has disappeared. The gloves have come off and now the press is out for blood.

WHO KILLED WEALTHY COUPLE? FAMILY RIFT DISRUPTS FUNERAL

She skims the article, and as she does, certain key phrases and sentences pop out at her.

. . . speculation that it was a robbery that turned violent . . . Perhaps a new theory of the case is emerging. . . . Dan Merton overheard telling police that his two sisters, Catherine Merton and Jenna Merton, should be considered suspects . . . a shocking display of dissension in a family that has always been very private and conscious of its position in the community. . . .

Catherine’s heart sinks as she continues reading.

Police are focusing their attention on the three adult children . . . each expected to inherit a portion of the Mertons’ estate. . . . A source, who spoke on condition of anonymity, claims money might not be the only motive for the murders. . . . The family was apparently a troubled one, a claim borne out by what happened at yesterday’s funeral. . . .

Catherine looks up as she hears Ted enter the kitchen.

“You won’t believe this,” Catherine says, feeling sick to her stomach, throwing the newspaper onto the table in front of him as he sits down across from her. Catherine gets up to put the coffee on.

Ted reads silently, his face grim. “Jesus,” he says.

Catherine says bitterly, “Why doesn’t Dan understand that he should just shut the fuck up?” She adds, “And we all know who that anonymous source is.”

---

•   •   •lisa stares down at her coffee, which has grown cold. She’s read the disturbing article in the Aylesford Record.

She’s never been so frightened, so alone. Dan has come unglued. He’s effectively cut them both off from his sisters through his actions yesterday at the funeral. He expects her to remain loyal to him and have nothing more to do with Catherine and Jenna. It’s as if he’s lost his mind. They fought about it last night after the disastrous funeral and interminable event at the golf club, but he wouldn’t listen to reason. He seems almost to have convinced himself that one of his sisters murdered their parents and set him up to take the fall.

Or is that what he’s trying to convince her of?

It’s incomprehensible, all of it. Lisa’s in an impossible position.

---

•   •   •reyes and barr interview Irena Dabrowski again early on Sunday morning, while waiting for the search warrant for Catherine Merton. The cleaning lady sits across from them in the interview room for the second time. Reyes believes she might hold the key. He believes that one of the Merton kids killed their parents. He’s convinced she thinks so too. She certainly knows more than she’s telling.

“We know you’re protecting somebody.”

“I’m not protecting anyone. I don’t know who did it.” She looks down at the table and says, a little desperately, “I don’t want to know.”

Reyes leans forward intently. “But you do know, or you have a pretty good idea,” he says. “It was one of the kids, wasn’t it? We know it was one of them—or maybe two of them or all of them together—and so do you.” She raises her head and he sees tears start to form in her eyes. He waits, but all she does is shake her head.

He opens the folder on the desk and takes out photos of the murder scenes and spreads them out on the table. She glances down, then quickly looks away.

“So which one of your former charges is capable of that, do you think?”

Finally, she licks her lips, as if she’s going to say something. Reyes waits, trying not to show his impatience.

She says, “I don’t know who did it.” She slumps in defeat, as if the effort to hold it in any longer is too much for her. “But I think any one of them might be capable of it.”

“Why?” Reyes coaxes, his voice quieter now.

She swallows. Takes a sip from the water glass with a trembling hand. Wipes her tears away with a tissue. “Because as much as I love each of them, I know what they’re like. They’re clever, and selfish, and greedy, and they were fathered by a psychopath. I did my best, but I wouldn’t put it past any of them.” She wipes away another tear and looks up at him. “But they would never have done it together. They don’t do anything together.”

---

•   •   •audrey rereads the article in the Aylesford Record, and while she’s pleased at the strife among Fred and Sheila’s children, now out in the open for all to see, it doesn’t dampen her sense of injustice. There’s nothing in the article about Audrey being denied her rightful share of the estate. She hadn’t told Robin Fontaine about that. Audrey had been the unnamed source who’d spoken about the problems within the Merton family, none of the juicy details of which had made it into the article. They’re probably afraid of a lawsuit, she thinks. Maybe it’s time to take it up a notch. Maybe she needs to call back that reporter and tell her what she told the detectives—that Fred was going to change his will and one of those kids is a murderer. But they probably won’t print that either. She doesn’t have any proof.

Ellen drops by for their regular Sunday morning walk. They like to hike the various trails around Aylesford in good weather. Each Sunday, they drive together to the head of one of the trails. Now they each carry water bottles, and as they walk, they talk.

It’s quiet out here along the nature trail, with just the occasional jogger or cyclist passing them. Audrey impulsively tells Ellen what she’s thinking of doing.

“You’re the one who talked to the reporter,” Ellen says.

“Yes. What, do you think I shouldn’t have?”

Ellen is slow to answer. As Audrey walks alongside her, she considers Ellen. She has never been one to rock the boat—she’s led a rather subdued life. Audrey has always been the colorful one, she thinks, while Ellen is more reserved, a bit mousy, with her brown hair streaked with gray, her simple slacks and cardigans in quiet shades. As if she doesn’t want to be noticed.

“I don’t know,” Ellen admits finally. “To accuse someone of murder—”

“I just can’t stand by and do nothing,” Audrey insists. “At least I can try to get justice for Fred.”

“Maybe you should leave it to the police,” Ellen suggests. “You don’t actually know that one of them did it.”

Audrey snorts derisively.

“How can you be so sure?” Ellen persists.

Audrey stops walking and looks at her, as if coming to a decision. “I’m going to tell you something. Something awful. But you must swear you’ll never repeat it. To anyone.”