I 've Heard That Song Before

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After Charles Althorp had completed his statement and departed with his lawyer, Barbara Krause and Tom Moran stayed in her office, discussing the impact of what they had heard, and assessing how it affected their case against Peter Carrington.

“Even if Walker was stealing good paintings and substituting copies, it doesn’t mean that he killed Susan. And much of what Althorp told us is hearsay,” Barbara Krause said, flatly.

“And it doesn’t answer why Carrington hid his dress shirt that night and why his father handed Maria Valdez a check for five thousand dollars,” Moran pointed out. “Anyhow, the statute of limitations has run out on prosecuting Walker for theft, even if we can prove that he was an art crook.”

Barbara Krause stood up. “I’m tired. Let’s give it a rest.”

Her phone rang. “My family probably thinks I ran off with you,” she told Moran as she picked up the phone. Then, as she listened, her expression changed, and she began to pepper the caller with questions: “When did you find her?…The secretary is sure she was threatening him?…He’s leaving for London tomorrow?…Okay. Thanks.”

She hung up and looked at Moran. “Richard Walker’s name has turned up again. The body of a woman who frequently called Walker at work, and who left an angry, almost threatening message a few days ago, has been found floating in the East River. Her name was Alexandra Lloyd. The information about Lloyd calling Walker came from his secretary. My God, I wonder if the two stepbrothers are both killers.”

“How did she die?” Moran asked.

“She was stabbed at least a dozen times,” Krause said.

“Walker’s mother, Elaine Carrington, lives in a house on that estate. He may be there now,” Moran said.

“We’ll alert the Englewood cops and have them send a squad car over there immediately,” Krause replied, a worried tone in her voice. “I know they have some private security outside the estate, but Kay Carrington is alone in that house at night.”