“I have to ask you. Do you think your wife could be having an affair?”
Murphy gave Conklin a scathing look and said, “If she is having an affair, it would shock the hell out of me. We have a full and trusting relationship. Thank you for bringing her home safely. I’d like daily reports on your progress in finding the kidnapper.”
Joan Murphy returned to the room in flowing garments, looking like an entirely different woman. She was relaxed. Beaming. Confident.
“Richard,” she said. “You’ll have dinner with us, right?”
“I wish I could, Joan. Maybe another time. But before I leave, I need a few moments with Marjorie.”
Chapter 15
Joan brought Conklin to the kitchen, where he met with Marjorie Bright, a wiry, blue-eyed woman who was about sixty years old. She was dressed casually in dark pants and an untucked white shirt.
She dried her hands on a dish towel and checked on the contents of the oven. After Joan had left the room, she and Conklin sat down at the kitchen table.
Conklin asked some preliminary questions. How long had she worked for the Murphys? What did she think of them? Had she ever witnessed any arguments between the two of them?
Miss Bright told Conklin that she had worked for Miss Joan for thirteen years. She lived in a private suite on the third floor. She seemed happy with her job in the Murphys’ home.
When Conklin asked if the couple fought, she shrugged and said, “I guess there’s been some shouting over the last five years, but there’s never been any violence. They have separate suites connected by a hallway on the second floor. Their lives are separate, mostly, but sometimes they’ll entertain at home, vacation, and attend functions together. They live well in this house, and I do think they are in love.”
Conklin asked, “Do you recall if Mr. Murphy was home on Sunday?”
“Yes, he was here. I’m off on Sundays, but my rooms overlook the front of the property and his car never moved. I saw him and Joan eating breakfast together on the patio on Sunday morning. Later that afternoon, Mr. Robert called up and asked if I could help him rehearse his lines. He’s very talented, you know.”
“Could you estimate the time that Mrs. Murphy left the house on Sunday?”
“No. Like I said, it was my day off, so I wasn’t looking at the clock. Besides, she doesn’t like to drive. She usually uses a car service, so I couldn’t guess a time for you, since her car never left the driveway.”
The housekeeper got the name and number of the service, and after Conklin thanked her, he returned to the sprawling drawing room and told the Murphys he’d be in touch as soon as his team had any kind of big break or lead in the case.
Once he got in the car, he called Cindy and talked to her as he drove home. They clicked off when Rich was on Kirkham with his apartment building in sight, and that’s when his phone rang with another call.
It was Sackowitz.
“We’ve got an ID on our John Doe,” Sac said. “His name’s Samuel J. Alton and he’s from San Bernardino. He’s the senior VP in claims for Avantra Insurance. He’s married, has three kids under twelve, and is a regular at the Warwick Hotel. On the first Sunday of every month, he comes to town for a Monday morning meeting at Avantra’s main office on Beale Street.”
“Interesting,” said Conklin. “What are you thinking? Was Alton Joan’s boyfriend? An attacker? A random hookup?”
“I’m going with boyfriend. We were able to get a look into the Warwick computer systems, and it turns out that Joan Murphy has a monthly reservation at the Warwick. And it’s always on a Sunday night. The first Sunday in the month, in fact.”
Conklin said, “I’ve got to agree with you then. Sounds like these two were having an ongoing affair. Yet Joan’s husband tells me there’s no chance in hell that his wife is stepping out on him. ‘We have a full and trusting relationship,’ he told me. And that’s a direct quote.”
“Gee,” said Sac. “Could the husband be telling you a lie?”
Conklin laughed.
Sac said, “I’m going to drive to San Berdoo. I’ll notify Mrs. Alton that her husband was shot to death in the arms of another woman. Then, I’m gonna go home and get drunk because that’s going to be one hell of a conversation. You want to mention Samuel Alton’s name to Joan Murphy? See what happens?”
“Oh, yeah, I do. The woman tells a fantastic story. Can’t wait to hear what she comes up with this time.”
Chapter 16
Cindy was at Lindsay and Joe’s apartment Tuesday morning, drying Martha after their walk had gotten drowned out by an unexpected drenching rain.
Martha shook herself off, causing Cindy to shriek, “No!”
Martha, excited by her friend’s response, put her paws on Cindy’s shoulders and licked her face.
Cindy couldn’t help laughing. Martha was showing good progress with her injury if she was already this mobile. That made Cindy pretty proud to have helped out her friend in need.
“What now, Miss Martha?” she lovingly asked the dog. “Are both of us going to have to get into a hot shower? Hmmmm? You know I have to wear these clothes to work.”
Martha woofed. Cindy laughed again and said, “Copy that, Big Girl. Breakfast is coming right up.”
Cindy was dumping dog food into a bowl when, of course, the phone rang. It was just like the other morning, only this time it really was Lindsay.
“Are you checking up on me?” Cindy teased.
“Of course not. Well, maybe I am, but just a little. Put Martha on the phone for me.”
“Sure thing. Here ya go.”
Cindy put the receiver near Martha’s face as the dog gobbled down her beef stew with supplements. She could hear Lindsay talking to her dog, who stopped eating long enough to lick the phone. Cindy cracked up.
“I’m totally grossed out,” she said to Lindsay. “By the way, it’s not just raining here, it’s a certified downpour. Your dog is wet. The phone is wet. I’m wet. And I’m about to rifle through your closet so I don’t have to go to work in an outfit that’s completely soaked.”
Lindsay told her, “Go ahead. Be my guest. And take a selfie so I can see how my size ten clothing fits your itty-bitty size-four bod.”
“Great idea. So, how’s the vacation going?”
Lindsay’s voice was as light as fluffy clouds in a blue sky. She told Cindy about their lovely room, the pleasure of “waking up with Joe and not having one damned thing to do. I’m eating actual meals at real tables.”
Cindy laughed. “That’s amazing. Take a selfie of that.”
Lindsay asked if she was missing anything back home, and Cindy had the Joan Murphy story racked up and ready to roll. But at the last second, she held it back. Lindsay was with her hubby, and their baby was with Lindsay’s sister. For the first time in a while, her friends were enjoying a nice hotel and room service. Lindsay deserved a clean break while she was on vacation.
“As far as I can tell, life goes on without you, Linds.”