James Patterson - Confessions of a Murder Suspect

“Be careful, Tandy. All you have to support this theory is an inscription on a locket.”

“It’s a lead. It’s a clue.”

“We’ve got to trust Samantha until we know that we can’t.”

“Trust?” I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not something that makes a whole lot of sense right now, Harry. The only person I trust at this moment”—I paused to think about it—“is you.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

I pulled out my phone and dialed Samantha’s number.

“I’m right around the corner,” she told me. “I’ll be home in five or six minutes.”

Harry and I were waiting for her when she came through the door, looking oh-so-pretty in pink.

“Tandy! I’m so glad you’re back,” she said, wrapping me in a huge hug. “Are you okay? Did Philippe bring you home? I can’t imagine you trapped in that terrible place!” She finally let me go and stepped back to look at our faces. “Oh, dear. What’s wrong now?” she asked as she set her Hermès bag on the floor.

“Please join us, Samantha,” I said. “Harry and I have a question that only you can answer.”

Did you kill our mother and father?

52

Samantha had also spent the previous night in The Tombs. She had since washed her hair and changed her clothes, but there were inky circles under her eyes, as if she’d stood with her back to the wall all night, fearing for her life.

Which was okay with me. According to what I knew of police practices and procedures, a suspect under pressure was a suspect more likely to tell the truth.

And I would accept nothing less.

When Samantha sat down in the living room, I held up the locket, letting it swing so that light bounced off the diamond.

“I found this in your room,” I said. “Recognize it? I’m sure you do. The inscription says ‘Sammy, love forever—Maud.’ That’s pretty mushy for my mother. In fact, it’s so unlike her that I’d like you to tell me what she meant.”

“I don’t like your tone, Tandy. It’s none of your business, and furthermore, it was very, very wrong of you to pry into my personal things.”

“This is one of those situations where the ends justify the means, don’t you think, ‘Sammy’?”

Samantha heaved a long sigh. She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling over the fireplace until I said, “Well?”

“Okay, Tandy, okay. You’re right,” Samantha said. “Your mother and I… had a relationship. It just happened … and both of us were taken by surprise. But the longer it went on, the more we realized we loved each other.”

“There’s a difference between loving each other and being in love.” I was surprised by the authority with which I said it. Katherine had told me that once, I guess. “Which was it?”

“We were in love,” Samantha said. “We never wanted any of you kids to know.”

“I’m going to run away and join the circus,” Harry said to his shoes. “Wait—I already live in the circus.”

I pressed Samantha. “Who knew about your relationship? Did Malcolm know you were involved with my mother, Sammy ? Did you know anything about my father and Tamara Gee?”

“I found a great place to live,” Samantha said, changing the subject. She swept her long hair back with her hands. “It’s a studio on Ninety-second and Amsterdam. I can see you whenever you like. I can babysit Hugo. I’d like to do that, actually—”

“What were your plans before the murder?” I asked her. “Yours and Maud’s?”

“We didn’t have any plans . Hugo is still young. We would never have done anything to hurt anyone. Please don’t ask me any more questions, Tandy. I’m grieving. I feel gutted. I don’t expect you to understand or even to care, but please respect what I’m going through. To be quite honest, I’m the only one here who’s really lost someone they deeply loved.”

Ouch. I resisted the strange and sudden temptation to slap her. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. How dare you…

Then: Deep breath in through the nose. Out through the mouth.

“Actually,” I said calmly, and the words sounded and felt strange even as they were coming out of my mouth, “I do care.”

As if on cue, Hugo came through the front door, with Philippe Montaigne right behind him. Hugo had on the same clothes he’d been wearing when we were sent to jail: cut-off jeans and an orange LIFE IS GOOD T-shirt with the secondary slogan ENJOY THE RIDE. He also had a black eye.

Phil said, “He ran away from the unsecured detention in Midtown and went looking for Matthew. The police found him sleeping on the grass in Bryant Park.”

“I’m starving ,” Hugo said, grinning as only a ten-year-old can. “I could eat an alligator. The whole thing. By myself.”

I had to agree with Harry. I did already live in the circus. And it was a five-ring affair.

53

Hugo wasn’t the only one who was hungry, so we went to Shun Lee West, our favorite restaurant in the neighborhood. Once there, we sprawled in the black leather embrace of our usual booth. We’d even invited Samantha, and honestly, I did care about her feelings.

Matthew met us there, and I was stunned to see my handsome brother’s face so tired, his eyes so dull. The news about Tamara had clearly shocked him, and it seemed that the media glare was getting to him. Harry and I hugged him even harder than we had after our parents died.

Twenty minutes later, Hugo was cramming spicy Sichuan alligator into his mouth. He was very happy now. He was the only one who was.

The familiar place, the routine, and the comfort food were just a cover for our seething anxiety. We were all out of jail, but we were not free by any means. As Philippe had told me, Sergeant Caputo was taking this case personally, for some reason I couldn’t understand. He wasn’t going to give up.

I wasn’t giving up, either.

In fact, I had a new agenda.

Having dinner with my siblings and Samantha gave me the opportunity to question everyone at once. Maybe I could persuade or trap someone into making a confession.

Matthew sucked down his third glass of Tsingtao beer, then said, “I overheard a couple of cops saying they think we did it together, that the murders were a conspiracy.”

“Some people think you did it,” said Hugo. “I know how people get pregnant—duh—and if Malcolm did that to your girlfriend, that must have made you really, really mad.”

Matty smiled wanly at Hugo, and tousled his hair, but remained silent.

I waited as the server refilled our water glasses, then said, “At this point, family secrets could take all of us down. Matty, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I think it’s fair to ask you to clear up this story. Is Tamara pregnant? By”—I gulped—“Malcolm?”

Hugo and Harry gagged a little. I didn’t blame them. Samantha pressed her lips together in a pained expression of distaste.

My brother fixed me with his bug-eyed stare. “How am I supposed to know? I haven’t seen any DNA test. I didn’t know she was pregnant until I saw her on the news . Can you believe that? I still don’t know anything. She’s not at the apartment. She won’t answer her phone.”

I knew this hurt Matty, but my weakly developed conscience allowed me to press on with the questioning. I practiced stating the horrible facts without any emotion whatsoever.