Mary Clark - The Lost Years

The last dinner. The last supper. Dad’s seventieth birthday.

She had to tell the detectives about the parchment her father may have found.

With a start, she realized that both detectives had been observing her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You asked about Lisa’s jewelry.”

“From what you said, she was known to have it, and maybe some people knew she kept it at home. But frankly, Ms. Lyons, that isn’t our focus. We came here to speak with you and your mother. Since Mr. Scott has said he is now representing your mother, perhaps we can sit down now and talk to you.”

“Yes, of course,” Mariah said, trying to keep her voice steady. Suppose it comes up about the gun? she thought. How much should I tell them if they ask? Stalling for time, she said, “Please let me first check on my mother. There are some medications she has to take now.”

Without waiting for a reply, she went into the foyer and saw Kathleen, followed by Delia, coming down the stairs. With a determined expression, Kathleen walked rapidly through the foyer into her husband’s study, opened the door of the closet, and pushed Delia away. “You can’t come in here!” she shouted.

“Mom, please… ” Mariah’s pleading voice could be heard in the living room.

Benet and Rodriguez looked at each other. “I want to see this,” Benet said quietly. Together they went into the study. Kathleen Lyons was sitting at the far end of the closet, hunched against the wall. In an anguished voice she kept repeating, “So much noise… so much blood.”

“Shall I try moving her?” Delia asked Mariah uncertainly.

“No, it’s useless,” Mariah said. “Just stay in the room. I’ll sit in there with her for a while.”

Delia nodded and stood at the place where Jonathan’s leather chair had been. Seeing her in that exact spot brought back to Mariah the vivid memory of her father sprawled on that chair, blood dripping from his head. The police had removed the chair as evidence on the night of the murder. Will they give it back to me? she wondered. Do I want it back?

“Ms. Lyons,” Benet said quietly, “we really need to speak with you.”

“Now?” she asked. “You can see how my mother is. She needs me to be with her.”

“I won’t keep you long,” he promised. “Perhaps the caretaker can stay with your mother while you’re with us.”

Mariah looked uncertainly from him to her mother. “All right. Delia, bring in a chair from the dining room. Don’t go in the closet, just be here for her.” She looked apologetically at Detective Benet. “I’m afraid to leave her alone. If she gets a crying spell she can lose her breath.”

Rita Rodriguez heard the break in Mariah’s voice and knew Mariah was aware of the skepticism in Simon Benet’s face. Knowing him as well as she did, she was sure that Simon thought Kathleen Lyons was putting on an act for them.

When Delia returned carrying the dining room chair, she placed it just outside the closet and sat down.

Kathleen looked up. “Close the door,” she demanded. “Close the door. I don’t want any more blood on me.”

“Mom, it’s all right,” Mariah said soothingly. “I’ll just leave it open a tiny bit so you have some light. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Biting her lips to keep them from quivering, she led the detectives into the living room. Simon Benet was direct. “Ms. Lyons, this burglary is of course very unfortunate and we can understand that Mr. Scott is terribly upset about it. We also understand that he will be representing your mother and wants an opportunity to speak with her. However we are in the midst of investigating a homicide and must proceed without delay. Let me put it to you bluntly: We need to speak with both you and your mother and get answers to some important questions.”

The doorbell rang, and this time without waiting for an answer, Lloyd Scott opened the door and came in. His face ashen, he said, “The Mahwah cops are in our house. My God, someone got in without tripping the house alarm or the alarm on the safe. I thought we had a foolproof system installed.”

“As I just told Ms. Lyons, there’s no such thing anymore,” Benet told him. “It’s obvious you had a pro in there.” Then his tone changed. “Mr. Scott, we understand you’re very involved in your own situation, but as I was just telling Ms. Lyons, it is imperative we speak to her mother and her.”

“My mother is in no condition to talk with you,” Mariah said, interrupting. “You should be able to see that for yourself.” She realized she had raised her voice and had done it because now she could hear her mother wailing. “I said that I’ll talk with you,” she reminded Benet, “but could we do it when my mother is calmer?” Helplessly, she added, “I’ve got to go to her,” and hurried back to the study.

Simon Benet looked straight at Lloyd Scott. “Mr. Scott, I can tell you that right now we have probable cause to arrest Kathleen Lyons for the murder of her husband. She was alone in the house with him. She was holding the gun and her fingerprints are on it. There is no sign of forced entry nor evidence of anything missing in the house. We have held off so far because we want to make sure that she hasn’t been set up. If you won’t allow us to speak to her in the next couple of days, we’ll have no choice but to arrest her.”

“There is no sign of forced entry into my house either, but someone did get in and make off with some three million dollars’ worth of jewelry,” Lloyd Scott replied.

“But nobody was found in your house clutching a gun,” Benet said.

Ignoring the remark, Lloyd Scott continued. “Obviously, I’m needed in my own home now. I will talk to Kathleen. But clearly she is in no condition to speak to even me right now. Give me until tomorrow. If I do allow her to talk to you at all, it will be tomorrow afternoon. If you decide to arrest her, contact me. I’ll surrender her. As you can see, she is a very, very sick woman.” Then he added, “I’m also advising Mariah to wait and talk to me before she answers your questions.”

“Sorry,” Benet said curtly. “This is a homicide investigation. We insist on talking to Mariah as soon as her mother quiets down. You don’t represent her.”

“Mr. Scott, you just heard Mariah say that she is willing to talk with us,” Rodriguez said firmly.

Lloyd Scott’s normally florid complexion was recovering from the paleness that had come over it when he had learned of the burglary in his home. “All right. It’s up to Mariah, but you must understand that you cannot speak to Kathleen now or at any time without my permission.”

“Yes, we understand. But if you try to put us off again tomorrow and she is not immediately arrested, your client will end up with a subpoena to appear before the grand jury, and there’s no question she would be a target of that grand jury. If she takes the Fifth and won’t testify after that, so be it,” Benet told him. “But that would pretty much be telling us that she did it, wouldn’t it?” he asked sarcastically.

“Given her illness, I can assure you that she has no idea what taking the Fifth Amendment would even mean, and if she did, drawing that conclusion would be absurd.” Lloyd Scott then looked in the direction of the study. “I have to get back to my wife. When Mariah comes out, I would appreciate it if you would tell her that I will call her later.”

“Of course.” Benet and Rodriguez waited until they heard the front door close behind the lawyer, then Benet said flatly, “I think the mother is putting on an act for our benefit.”

“It’s too hard to tell,” Rita replied, shaking her head. “But I do know one thing. Mariah Lyons is sad about her father and also obviously nervous. I don’t think she has anything to do with this. Ten to one she’s terrified her mother is guilty but will try to point us in other directions. It will be interesting to see what she comes up with.”