David Ellis - Eye of the Beholder

McDermott scribbles some notes on his pad.

“Could you tell me what’s become of him?” she asks.

“I wish I could. Can I ask-the reason for your divorce? So soon after Cassie’s death?”

“You can ask.” She removes a gold case and produces a cigarette. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s the only vice I’m allowed.” She lights the cigarette and holds it close to her face, her elbow held high.

McDermott opens his hands.

“Is that really important to your investigation?”

“It might be,” he says.

“I can’t imagine how.”

“Mrs. Lake, in my job sometimes you don’t know what’s important until you discover it.”

The smoke billowing around her face, Natalia picks at her lip with a long fingernail. “That’s rather evasive of you.”

“I’d like the answer, please. I’m in a hurry.”

She smokes her cigarette a moment, as if she’s deciding whether to answer. McDermott thinks she’s deciding how to answer.

“My husband,” she says, “had an ongoing struggle with fidelity.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. He thinks of the note found in Koslenko’s house, the reference to Harland’s relationship with Ellie Danzinger.

“Anyone in particular?” he tries.

She taps her cigarette with earnest in a fancy ashtray. “I suppose the point is that it’s no one in particular.”

McDermott stares at his notepad. At the top of the small page, he has scribbled a few bullet points, a cheat sheet. This line of questioning seems to be hitting a dead end.

“Mrs. Lake, how well did you know Cassie’s friend, Ellie Danzinger?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” She shields her eyes, as if she’s avoiding sunlight. “Mr. McDermott, if you already knew, you could have simply told me and spared me the embarrassment”

“You’re talking about Ellie.”

Her hands fly open, her face ashen. “Well, isn’t that the point of this-this dancing around? Yes, Detective, yes-Harland was sleeping with Cassie’s best friend. She was just another beautiful young woman he couldn’t resist. Forgive me,” she adds, her tone softening.

McDermott stays quiet a moment. He’s not good with emotions, especially from women. But this is too important to back off.

“I’m sorry to ask these questions, Mrs. Lake. I’m trying to solve a series of murders. Murders that haven’t stopped. This-affair-was something you discussed with Harland?”

“Oh, God no. Of course not.” Her body is now entirely turned away from McDermott. “Harland would never have wanted me to know about his extracurricular activities.”

McDermott waits her out, but when she doesn’t elaborate he starts, “Then how-”

“Well, Cassie of course.”

He jots another note. This is getting interesting. Cassie knew that Harland was carrying on with Ellie.

“I need some kind of time frame, Mrs. Lake. When did Cassie tell you about Mr. Bentley and Ellie? When was this happening?”

Natalia stands by a window, a hand cupped under her elbow, the cigarette burning near her nose. “You mean,” she asks, “was it near the time Cassie died?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

“Yes. It was that school year. It was within a month of-of when she died.” She turns and looks at McDermott, speaking in a controlled, angry tone through clenched teeth. “One of the last things my daughter learned was that her father was-was intimate with her best friend. You understand why, after her death, I could not be with him.” Her eyes are fiery, her mouth bent in anger.

McDermott takes some notes. A painful sound comes from Natalia’s throat. Her head drops in despair.

“Let me ask about Cassie, if I could,” he says.

Natalia weeps softly. McDermott thinks of his daughter, Grace, and how a child’s pain hurts the parent even worse.

“One of the recent victims was asking questions about Cassie. We think maybe those questions got her killed. That’s why I’m asking.”

Still unable to speak, she gestures for him to continue.

“Were Cassie’s doctors at the Sherwood Executive Center? It’s a building in Sherwood Heights. It’s on-”

“Yes,” she says with a hoarse voice, taking heavy breaths. “Yes, that’s where her doctors were. Why?”

One of the hard parts of these conversations is that they aren’t really conversations. It’s not his job to answer questions. “Ma‘am, was Cassie pregnant?”

The meager restraint Natalia has mustered fails her now. She buries her face in her hands and weeps openly. McDermott looks away, feeling like an intruder, but his adrenaline is surging.

“Ma‘am?” It’s the woman in white, standing at the threshold of the room, bouncing on her toes. Natalia holds out a hand, shakes her head as she composes herself. “I’m fine, Marta, thank you.” The woman disappears.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Natalia says.

“No need, ma‘am. I’m a parent, too. I wouldn’t want my daughter’s privacy violated, either. But, Mrs. Lake-something strange was happening back then. It looks like someone orchestrated some kind of break-in into that building. The man who orchestrated it is now dead. The woman who was asking questions about it is now dead. And, ma’am, it’s our understanding that Cassie wasn’t pregnant when she-when she died.”

The room goes quiet. He hears sounds from what he assumes is the kitchen, plates and pots clinking together, a faucet running. Better not to push here, he decides. She’ll come around.

Natalia takes a deep breath. “All right, Detective.” She nods her head. “All right. But I want your promise that this information will stay confidential unless you absolutely have to use it” She looks at him. “Do I have that promise?”

“Of course you do. As a cop and as a parent, Mrs. Lake.”

He hates making a promise he won’t keep.

“Very well.” She struggles again momentarily, as if having second thoughts. But she’s already given McDermott the answer.

“Yes,” she says. “Cassie was pregnant that year. And you are correct that she was not pregnant at the time she died. She had that procedure,” she adds tersely, preempting a follow-up, “but I didn’t know about it until it was over. Cassie only came to me after it was done. Because she knows I would have talked her out of it.”

“And who-”

“I do not know who the father was. It would be an understatement to say that I tried to find out from her. In fact, I probably focused too much on that issue and too little on how the entire thing was affecting my daughter. That is something I have to live with every day”

He thinks again of the note found in Koslenko’s house, the reference to Professor Albany and Cassie. This time, he won’t front the name, like he did with Ellie. “Can you give me any possible names? Boyfriends or anything?”

“She wouldn’t tell me. She absolutely refused. She was very protective of this person.”

McDermott watches the expression on her face. “But.”

She makes eye contact with him, the anger rising in her again. “Of course I had certain suspicions. She seemed to have a rather unique relationship with one of her professors.”

McDermott starts. His reaction is not lost on Natalia.

“You know, don’t you?” she asks, emitting a bitter laugh. “This is another time you are asking me something you already know. This is what you do. You tell people-”

“Mrs. Lake, listen.” He raises his hand. “It’s very important that I hear the information from you and not the other way around. You can understand that. Please, just give me a name.”

“The one who testified at the trial,” she says. “Mr. Albany.”