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“See,” Deirdre said. “That’s the official report of my accident. One person in the car. Not two. I was driving, on Mulholland Drive. And all this time—”
“You were not driving that car.” Her mother’s hand trembled as she stared at the report. “I don’t care what this says.” She tossed the paper back on the desk.
“Then what happened? Dad drove up to Mulholland for a joyride? Crashed the car and then abandoned me?”
Gloria and Sy looked at each other, but neither of them spoke.
“The police thought I was driving. I didn’t have a driver’s license, I got into an accident, but charges against me were never filed. Was that your magic?” Deirdre stared at Sy. “Was that the trouble you said you kept me out of?”
Sy didn’t answer, just raised his eyebrows, allowing that there might be some truth to that.
“And there’s more,” Deirdre went on. “Yesterday, very early in the morning, around two A.M. or so, before you came over to read us the will, I woke up and found Henry dragging a bag out of my father’s bedroom. A bag of things that he said Dad would have wanted him to get rid of. There were snapshots of young women in there. Lots of them. One of the girls”—she stared hard at Sy—“and she was just a girl, was Joelen Nichol.”
“Christ,” Sy said. He seemed dismayed but not particularly surprised.
“Know what else I found in that bag?” The words came tumbling out. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop herself. “A dress. The dress I was wearing at the party earlier that night. The night Tito was killed. So here’s what I want to know: How did the dress get covered in blood? And how did my father end up with it?”
Sy hesitated, gazing out into space, his face blank. “This is news to me.” Deirdre remembered that her father always said Sy was a brilliant poker player, but a moment’s hesitation was his tell.
Well, if Sy wasn’t going to spill, Deirdre would. “I also found a knife.” Sy’s eyes widened. “A carving knife with a bone handle. Something else that Henry said Dad wanted him to get rid of.”
“And you think—” Sy started. Now he looked genuinely bewildered.
“I don’t know what to think.” Tears welled up behind Deirdre’s eyes. She clenched her jaw to keep them from spilling over. “But I’m starting to wonder. What if the police don’t have the real knife that killed Tito, and what if my father did? And what if I wasn’t asleep when it happened?” She looked from her mother to Sy and back again. “Why won’t anyone tell me the truth?”
“No one is trying to torture you,” Sy said. “We would all like to know exactly what happened. Maybe if your father had written about it, we would know.” He paused for a moment, looking directly at Deirdre, so intently that she wondered if he knew about her father’s memoir.
Gloria got up from the desk and came around to Deirdre. She took her hand and held it between hers. “I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through so much pain and confusion. And it’s so unfair that it’s all getting dredged up again.”
“I didn’t kill Tito,” Deirdre said in a small voice.
Her mother stood back. “Of course you didn’t.”
“Did I?” Deirdre asked Sy.
This time there was no hesitation. “You did not. Of that you can be absolutely certain.”
“How do you know?” Deirdre said.
“Because I was there,” Sy said.
Chapter 29
Sy returned to the wing chair and sank into it, his face receding into shadows. He closed his eyes for a moment and tented his fingers over his belt buckle. Then his eyes opened and he glanced across at Gloria, who was still standing behind Deirdre with her arms around her. Some kind of message seemed to pass between them.
“All right,” Sy said. “Well then. I was hoping it would never come to this, but here we are and so it is. As you know, I have for a very long time been Elenor Nichol’s personal attorney. I am also her friend. She called me that night. Very late. She called and asked me”—he gave a tired smile and shook his head—“make that commanded me to come over right away. She said something terrible had happened to Tito.
“I told her to call an ambulance. She said it was too late for that. She needed me to be there when she called the police. So of course I dressed and went right over. As I was driving up the driveway to the house, I passed a car pulling out. It was dark, and I could not see who was driving. But it was a sports car with the top down. Naturally I assumed it was your father. And when I learned what had happened, and that you had been in the house, I further assumed that he had come to get you out of there before all hell broke loose. That is what I thought until just now when you showed me the accident report. I still find it difficult to believe that you were driving that car.”
“The dress? The knife? Why did my father have them?”
“I’m afraid that is something I do not know. This is what I do know. When I got there, Bu
“Elenor Nichol killed Tito?” Deirdre asked.
“That is what she told me. And right away I thought, ‘self-defense.’ I did not doubt it for a moment, and I am sure I could have persuaded a jury. Police had been called to the house before. Newspapers had printed photographs of them fighting in a nightclub. On top of that, Antonio Acevedo had a long, well-documented history of violence. If Bu
Gloria said, “And an accomplished actress.” The bitterness in her tone took Deirdre aback.
“Of course she is,” Sy said. “But this did not seem like an act. She was agitated. In acute distress, emotionally and physically. Her neck was red and her vocal cords were so badly bruised that she could barely speak.”
A chill ran down Deirdre’s back. Why on earth had she and Joelen been allowed to hang out all those long afternoons with just Tito in the house?
“I placed the call to the police,” Sy went on. “While we waited for them to get there, I prepared Bu
“The police came. Examined the body. They were about to start questioning Bu
“Bu
Sy shook his head and pressed his lips together. “After that, things moved quickly. One of the officers read Joelen her rights. They tried to cuff her but Bu
“Finally Bu