“I tripped and fell.”
“Into a box of hammers? I know a beating when I see one.”
“Keep your voice down!” he said in a harsh whisper. “I have neighbors.”
“I’m sure they saw on the news that somebody brutally murdered your family,” Taylor said. “They shouldn’t be surprised that there’s a detective at your door. Or is it that you don’t want them to see that somebody beat the shit out of you?”
Chamberlain swore under his breath as the neighbor across the hall opened her door and peered out.
“Come in,” he said, stepping back. “But you’re not staying. I have to be somewhere.”
“Where?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“How’s your sister?” Taylor asked, stepping into the apartment. The place was still as neat as a pin. Charlie had gone elsewhere for his beating.
“She’s upset. We’re all upset.”
He had wrapped gauze around the knuckles of the hand he’d clocked Sato with.
“Did you get that X-rayed?” Taylor asked.
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. What do you want?”
“I have a couple of questions about the last phone call you got from your mother. I was hoping you could help me get a clearer picture as I lay out the time line.”
“Fine. What?”
“Looking at the phone records, I see she called you from her cell phone that night.”
“Yes. So?”
“Did she say anything about having misplaced the phone for a couple of days?”
“No. Why would she?”
“There was a long period of inactivity in the usage records. Then she called you; then she called your sister on the landline.”
Charlie stared at him, looking confused and impatient. “So what? Our mother was a drunk. She misplaced things; then she found them again. She probably lost the phone and by the time she found it and called me, the battery was ready to die.”
“That could be,” Taylor said, not convinced. “Would she have been able to disarm the house security system from her phone?”
“She wasn’t very good with gadgets—especially after a few glasses of wine—so, no. Why?”
“Do you know if their system has that capability—to run it from an app?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I’m just trying to reconcile something,” Taylor said. “The security company said the system was disarmed after midnight. Why would your parents have disarmed the system that late at night?”
“I don’t know.”
“We were thinking the perpetrator let himself in through the dining room, then disarmed the system from the panel in the kitchen, but if someone came in through that door, all the control panels would have been beeping until the code was entered. If the system was beeping, why wouldn’t your parents hit the panic button upstairs? They couldn’t have been expecting company that late at night.”
“I don’t know!” Charlie said, exasperated. “How am I supposed to know? I wasn’t there.”
“Could I listen to the message your mother left you that night?” Taylor asked, ignoring Chamberlain’s growing sense of urgency.
“No!” Charlie said indignantly. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“You were one of the last people to hear from her. I’d like to know her state of mind.”
“She was sad. She was lonely. She’d been drinking.”
“I’d like to hear—”
“Well, you can’t! I erased it!” he snapped, pacing now, back and forth, three steps one way, three steps the other way.
“Why would you do that?” Taylor asked. “That was the last time you will ever hear her voice.”
“And listen to her say how disappointed she is, and how sad she is, and why couldn’t I do something about it?” he said, building up a head of steam as he paced. His eyes filled. His voice strained. “Why would I save that? I have enough memories of her being disappointed in me. I don’t have to keep them on my phone.”
“Why was she disappointed in you, Charlie? You’re the success story of the family. You graduated, got a good job, never in trouble—”
“Because it’s never enough,” Charlie muttered. “Nothing is ever enough. Something is always wrong or bad or not enough.”
“Well . . . it’s over now,” Taylor said.
Charlie stopped his pacing and looked at him, a quiet fury in his eyes.
“You have to go,” he said quietly. “Please go.”
Taylor hesitated, testing him.
“How did you feel about your dad donating his collection to the university?” he asked.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“We spoke with his insurance agent this afternoon. Your father called him Monday and wanted a new appraisal done because he was planning to donate the collection. Isn’t that what you argued about at dinner Sunday night?” he asked. “He was angry with your sister. Maybe he found out about her and Sato. Did he decide to trump her charge against him by giving his collection to the school?”
“He wouldn’t have done it,” Charlie said, agitated. “He was always making threats like that. He wouldn’t have actually done it.”