Ed McBain - Goldilocks

“Why did you want to see your father?”

“I needed some money. For a repair on the boat.”

“What sort of repair?”

“She’s leaking drive oil into the engine pan.”

“And you went there to talk to your father about it.”

“Yeah, to ask him if I could borrow some money to have it fixed. It’s going to cost six hundred dollars.”

“Did you go to his house directly from the boat?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you drive from Pirate’s Cove to Sabal Shores?”

“No, I don’t have a car. I got a hitch from some people coming out of the restaurant there. They dropped me off on the corner of Jacaranda.”

“What time was this?”

“Was what? When I got to Jacaranda?”

“Yes.”

“About a quarter to twelve, I guess. I don’t have a watch.”

“Did you walk up Jacaranda directly to the house?”

“Yes, directly to the house.”

“Were there lights on when you got there?”

“Yes.”

“Outside lights? Inside lights?

“Both.”

“What did you do when you got to the house?”

“I went to the front door and rang the bell.”

“Did your father answer the doorbell?”

“No. Maureen did.”

“What did she say?”

“She seemed... ah... she was surprised to see me. It was close to midnight, I guess it was late to be paying a visit.”

“Did she say anything about it being late?”

“No, no.”

“What did she say?”

“She just... ah... said my father wasn’t home.”

“Did she say where he was?”

“No. Just that he wasn’t home.”

“Do you know where he was last night, Mr. Purchase?”

“No, sir, I do not.”

“When you went to the house, did you know he wouldn’t be home?”

“Well... no. I expected him to be there.”

“You didn’t know Sunday night was his poker night.”

“No, I thought he’d be home. I was going there to see him.”

“But now that I remind you of it, do you recall that your father customarily plays poker every other Sunday?”

“Yes, I guess I know that.”

I wanted to stop the questioning then and there, but I hesitated. Ehrenberg wasn’t trying to trick Michael, it wasn’t that, nor was he putting words in his mouth. His job was to get the facts, and he was simply doing his job. But he knew that once this session was finished, the police would have to charge Michael, and what Michael said in the next little while would largely determine the nature of the charge. I had not looked at the state’s criminal statutes since the time I’d been studying for the Florida bar exams, but I knew well enough that to charge Michael with first-degree murder, there had to be a reasonable assumption of “premeditated design.” Ehrenberg was trying to find out whether or not Michael went to that house with the express purpose of killing Maureen and the two girls. He had just admitted that he now remembered his father played poker every other Sunday night. I knew what Ehrenberg’s next question would be, and I wanted to stop it before he asked it. But I was afraid Michael would then request that I be kicked summarily out of the room. My situation was a delicate one. I waited, hoping Ehrenberg wouldn’t ask the anticipated question. He asked it.

“Mr. Purchase, did you in fact know your father wouldn’t be home last night when you went—”

“Michael,” I said, “as your attorney, I think I should advise you to stop answering any more questions at this point. Mr. Ehrenberg, I think you can realize the position—”

“I want to answer the questions,” Michael said.

“You’ve been warned that anything you say here can be used as evidence against you. The purpose of an attorney—”

“I want to,” Michael said, and then answered the question in a way that still left the matter of premeditation unresolved. “I really didn’t know where he’d be,” he said. “I didn’t know whether he’d be at the house or not. That’s the truth.”

“But when you got there—”

“He wasn’t there.”

“This was at a quarter to twelve?”

“Around then.”

“What time would it have been exactly ?”

Ehrenberg was going after facts again. An autopsy was mandatory in a murder case, that much I knew. If he did not already have the information in his possession, Ehrenberg would soon have from the coroner an approximate time of death. If the coroner said Maureen and the girls had been killed sometime between eleven and midnight, for example, and Michael now stated he’d got there at...

“It would have been about a quarter to twelve, maybe a little later,” he said. “I told you, I don’t have a watch.”

“So at a quarter to twelve, you rang the doorbell—”

“Yes.”

“And your stepmother answered it.”

“Maureen answered it, yes, sir.”

“What was she wearing?”

“A nightgown.”

“Just a nightgown?”

“Yes... ah... a pink nightgown.”

“She opened the door wearing just the nightgown.”

“Yes.”

“A long nightgown or a short nightgown?”

“Long.”

“Did it have sleeves?”

“No, no sleeves.”

“Can you tell me anything else about the nightgown?”

“I think... yes, there was a sort of a little rosebud thing here at the... where the... the neck, this part of the gown.”

“You’re indicating an area... oh, midway on your chest.”

“Yes.”

“Where a woman’s breasts would be.”

“Yes.”

“And you say there was... a rosebud , did you call it?”

“I don’t know what it’s called, it’s a little sort of... the fabric is gathered, it looks like a flower.”

“Would you mean a rosette?”

“Yes, that’s right, a rosette.”

“What color was the rosette?”

“Pink, same as the gown.”

“What else was your stepmother wearing?”

“That’s all, I think.”

“Slippers?”

“No.”

“Jewelry?”

“A wedding band.”

“Anything in her hair?”

“No.”

He had just described exactly what Maureen was wearing. I’d heard this same description from Jamie two hours earlier, when he was telling us about walking into that bedroom and finding his wife in the closet. Even the rosette, Michael had just described even the goddamn rosette. I had to make another try. This time, I directed my plea to Ehrenberg.

“Mr. Ehrenberg,” I said, “on behalf of my client, I’d like to protest strongly this continuing interrogation after I’ve advised him to—”

“Listen,” Michael said, his voice rising, “you just shut the fuck up, okay?”

“Everything you say is being taped—”

“I know it is.”

“And can be used later as—”

“Damn it, will you please let me—”

“Mr. Ehrenberg,” I said, “can you stop the tape a minute?”

Ehrenberg immediately pushed the STOP button.

The room went silent.

“Michael,” I said, “I’m going to ask you just one question. If you answer yes to it, I’ll keep still for the rest of this interview, you can say whatever you like, I won’t interrupt, I won’t try to stop you. But if you say no—”

“What’s the question?”

“Do you want to go to the electric chair?”

“Yes.”

Ehrenberg visibly flinched. I don’t think he was expecting Michael’s affirmative reply; I know I wasn’t.

“So can we please get on with it?” Michael said.

Ehrenberg looked at me, waiting for my permission to continue. I said nothing. He nodded helplessly and pressed the RECORD button. His voice was softer when he began questioning Michael again. “Would you tell me what happened next, please?” he said.