Let Me Call You Sweetheart

95

It was a long and miserable ride from New Jersey up the thruway to the Catskills. An icy rain began falling around Middletown, and traffic slowed to a crawl. An overturned tractor trailer that blocked all lanes caused an extra hour to be added to the already torturous trip.

It was a quarter of ten before a tired and hungry Geoff Dorso arrived at the Ellenville police headquarters, where Jason Arnott was being held. A team of FBI agents was waiting to question Arnott as soon as he had had the chance to speak to Geoff.

“You’re wasting your time waiting for me,” Geoff had told them. “I can’t be his lawyer. Didn’t he tell you that?”

A handcuffed Arnott was escorted into the conference room. Geoff had not seen the man in the nearly eleven years since Suzanne’s death. At that time, he had been considered to have a relationship with Suzanne Reardon that combined friendship and business. No one, including Skip, ever suspected that he had any other interest in her.

Now Geoff studied the man closely. Arnott was somewhat more full-faced than Geoff remembered, but he still had that same urbane, world-weary expression. The lines around his eyes suggested deep fatigue, but the turtleneck cashmere shirt still looked fresh under his tweed jacket. Country gentleman, cultivated connoisseur, Geoff thought. Even in these circumstances, he certainly looks the part.

“It’s good of you to come, Geoff,” Arnott said amiably.

“I really don’t know why I’m here,” Geoff replied. “As I warned you on the phone, you are now connected to the Reardon case. My client is Skip Reardon. I can tell you that nothing you may say to me is a privileged communication. You’ve had your Miranda warning. I am not your lawyer. I will repeat anything you say to the prosecutor, because I intend to try to place you in the Reardon house the night of Suzanne’s death.”

“Oh, I was there. That’s why I sent for you. Don’t worry. That isn’t privileged information. I intend to admit it. I asked you here because I can be a witness for Skip. But in exchange, once he is cleared, I want you to represent me. There won’t be any conflict of interest then.”

“Look, I’m not going to represent you,” Geoff said flatly. “I’ve spent ten years of my life representing an innocent man who got sent to prison. If you either killed Suzanne, or know who did, and you let Skip rot in that cell all this time, I’d burn in hell before I would raise a finger to help you.”

“You see, now that’s the kind of determination I want to hire.” Arnott sighed. “Very well. Let’s try it this way. You’re a criminal defense attorney. You know who the good ones are whether they’re from New Jersey or elsewhere. You promise to find me the best attorney money can buy, and I’ll tell you what I know of Suzanne Reardon’s death-which, incidentally, I am not responsible for.”

Geoff stared at the man for a moment, considering his offer. “Okay, but before we say another word, I want to have a signed and witnessed statement that any information you give me will not be privileged, and that I can use it in whatever way I see fit to assist Skip Reardon.”

“Of course.”

The FBI agents had a stenotypist with them. She took down Arnott’s brief statement. When he and a couple of witnesses had signed it, he said, “It is late and it has been a long day. Have you been thinking about what lawyer I should have?”

“Yes,” Geoff said. “George Symonds, from Trenton. He’s an excellent trial lawyer and a superb negotiator.”

“They’re going to try to convict me of deliberate murder in the death of Mrs. Peale. I swear it was an accident.”

“If there’s a way to get it down to felony murder, he’ll find it.

At least you wouldn’t face the death penalty.”

“Call him now.”

Geoff knew that Symonds lived in Princeton, having once been invited to dinner at his home. He also remembered that the Symonds phone was listed in his wife’s name. Using his cellular phone, he made the call in Arnott’s presence. It was ten-thirty.

Ten minutes later, Geoff put the phone back. “All right, you’ve got a top-drawer lawyer. Now talk.”

“I had the misfortune to be in the Reardon house at the time Suzanne died,” Arnott said, his manner suddenly grave. “Suzanne was so wildly careless of her jewelry, some of which was quite beautiful, that the temptation proved too great. I knew Skip was supposed to be in Pennsylvania on business, and Suzanne had told me she had a date with Jimmy Weeks that evening. You know, odd as it may seem, she really had quite a crush on him.”

“Was he in the house while you were there?”

Arnott shook his head. “No, the way they had arranged it, she was to drive to the shopping mall in Pearl River, leave her car there and join him in his limo. As I understood it, she was meeting Jimmy early that night. Obviously I was wrong. There were a few lights on downstairs when I got to Suzanne’s house, but that was normal. They came on automatically. From the back I could see that the windows of the master bedroom were wide open. It was child’s play to climb up, since the second-story roof of that very modern house slopes almost to the ground.”

“What time was that?”

“Precisely eight o’clock. I was on my way to a dinner party in Cresskill; one of the reasons for my long and successful career is that almost invariably I could furnish an impeccable set of witnesses as to my whereabouts on particular nights.”

“You went into the house…,” Geoff encouraged.

“Yes. There wasn’t a sound, so I assumed everyone was away as planned. I had no idea that Suzanne was still downstairs. I went through the sitting room of the suite, then into the bedroom and over to the night table. I’d only seen the picture frame in passing and had never been sure if it was a genuine Faberg’; obviously I had never wanted to seem too interested in it. I picked it up and was studying it when I heard Suzanne’s voice. She was shouting at someone. It was quite disconcerting.”

“What was she saying?”

“Something to the effect of ‘You gave them to me and they’re mine. Now get out. You bore me.’”

You gave them to me and they’re mine. The jewelry, Geoff thought. “So that must mean that Jimmy Weeks had changed plans and arranged to pick Suzanne up that night,” he reasoned.

“Oh, no. I heard a man shout, ‘I have to have them back,’ but it was much too refined a voice to have been Jimmy Weeks, and it certainly wasn’t poor Skip.” Arnott sighed. “At that point, I dropped the frame in my pocket, almost unconsciously. A dreadful copy as it turns out, but Suzanne’s picture has been a pleasure, so I have enjoyed having it. She was so entertaining. I do miss her.”

“You dropped the frame in your pocket,” Geoff prodded.

“And realized suddenly that someone was coming upstairs. I was in the bedroom, you remember, so I jumped into Suzanne’s closet and tried to hide behind her long gowns. I hadn’t closed the door completely.”

“Did you see who came?”

“No, not the face.”

“What did that person do?”

“Made straight for the jewelry case, picked among Suzanne’s baubles and took out something. Then, apparently not finding everything he wanted, he began going through all the drawers. He seemed rather frantic. After only a few minutes he either found what he was looking for or gave up. Fortunately he didn’t go through the closet. I waited as long as I could, and then, knowing that something was terribly wrong, I slipped downstairs. That’s when I saw her.”

“There was a lot of jewelry in that case. What did Suzanne’s killer take?”

“Given what I learned during the trial, I’m sure it must have been the flower and the bud… the antique diamond pin, you know. It really was a beautiful piece: one of a kind.”

“Did whoever it was that gave Suzanne that pin also give her the antique bracelet?”

“Oh, yes. In fact, I think he was probably trying to find the bracelet as well.”

“Do you know who gave Suzanne the bracelet and the pin?”

“Of course I know. Suzanne kept few secrets from me. Now mind you, I can’t swear he was the one in the house that night, but it does make sense, doesn’t it? So see what I mean? My testimony will help to deliver the real murderer. That’s why I should have some consideration, don’t you agree?”

“Mr. Arnott, who gave Suzanne the bracelet and pin?”

Arnott’s smile was amused. “You won’t believe me when I tell you.”