Kovac came to attention. “He what?”
“I was shocked myself,” Goddard said. “He’s spent his life building that collection. But the university is going to be doing a big expansion of the Asian studies program. Lucien felt he could donate it, get plenty of notoriety and whatever kudos the university would give him. He wanted to get the appraisal first to be sure to get every nickel of his tax deduction.”
“Had he told anyone at the U about this?” Kovac asked.
“I wouldn’t know. But it would be like him to get the appraisal first. He liked his ducks beak to tail.”
“What about his kids?” Taylor asked.
Goddard made a little frown. “He said it was his collection to do with whatever he wanted, not theirs.”
*
“THERE’S THE PROFESSOR’S END-AROUND PLAY,” Taylor said as they got back in the car. “He could blow off the Office for Conflict Resolution if he thought he had something that trumped his disagreement with Diana.”
“He was going to leverage the collection for the job,” Kovac said. “If he had had that and knowledge of Diana and Sato’s affair, Sato wouldn’t have been just dead in the water as far as the promotion was concerned. He could possibly have gotten rid of Sato altogether.”
“Smells like motive to me,” Taylor said. “If Sato knew about it.”
“I tried to get Charlie to tell me what the big fight at Dad’s birthday dinner was all about,” Kovac said. “But he wouldn’t spill it.”
“If Daddy threw his new big plan in Diana’s face, she would have gone straight to Sato and told him,” Taylor said. “Suddenly they’re both better off with Lucien Chamberlain out of their lives.”
“Sato knows how to handle a sword.”
“But on the mother?” Taylor said. “That’s still a sticking point for me, no pun intended.”
“She’s collateral damage.”
“That attack was so vicious.”
“Or it was the fastest, most expedient way to kill her. Sato told me the first strike would be at the neck and shoulder. Mrs. C was nearly decapitated. She would have died quickly.”
“Try selling that to her daughter.”
“I think Diana believes whatever she needs to believe to get the reality she wants. Don’t you?”
Taylor thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that. She seems erratic, but that’s her logic system at work.”
“And maybe all the wailing and screaming is grief magnified by guilt,” Kovac said.
“Neither of them has an alibi.”
“The phone records might tell a story.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Good,” Kovac said, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes. “Wake me up when you’ve got something.”
22
“I’m really sorry to bother you,” Nikki said as the latest owner of the old Duffy house invited her inside.
“It’s not a problem at all,” Bruce Larson said, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He was a big burly bearded lumberjack of a man, a look contradicted by a chef’s apron with DOMESTIC GODDESS embroidered on the chest. “It’s kind of exciting, to be honest.” He made a comical face. “David, my partner, told me I probably shouldn’t admit that out loud.”
Nikki toed her shoes off. “Not everyone can say they had a famous murder in their backyard.”
“Do you really think it can be solved after all these years?”
“Never say never.”
“We are the biggest fans of true-crime shows,” Larson admitted. “I was saying to David, we could end up being in an episode of 48 Hours or Dateline or something. How crazy would that be?”
“Pretty crazy,” Nikki agreed. “I just want to have a look out the window of the one bedroom, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Sure. I’ll take you up,” he said, gesturing her toward the stairs.
“Don’t let me keep you from your cooking. It smells amazing.”
“Not a problem. The meat loaf just went in the oven. The best thing about this time of year is the menu, right? Comfort food. My famous Italian meat loaf and heart-attack-in-a-hot-dish macaroni and cheese. I’m a personal chef. I’ll give you a card before you go.”
Nikki checked her watch as they went into the bedroom. The boys would be getting home, and she had nothing planned for dinner.
“Was the tree stump still here when you bought the house?” she asked.
“Yes, and was that thing a bitch to get out of there!”
“Can you point out where it was?”
He joined her at the window. “Where the fire pit is.”
Visible from where they stood, but not if she backed up more than a few feet. Jennifer Duffy had been on her bed or in a chair, reading a book. She couldn’t have seen anything. Nor could she have seen where the shots came from—especially considering it was nearly dark at the time of the shooting. Nikki had figured as much. She had wanted to get into this room more to imagine Jennifer in here, nine years old and hiding out from the chaos of her family.