He had surveyed the quiet street in Park Slope for an hour and not seen a sign of any squad cars or cops. Ewes’s house was evidentiary, he knew, but it was also not the crime scene. They might have gotten everything already. If so, he might be screwed.
He tensed when he saw a cab pull up and the same couple from the previous night got out. They were dressed formally for an early Sunday evening in the summer. Him in a navy blazer, her in a skirt and heels. He wondered if they had dressed up to go and formally identify their daughter’s remains. Or maybe they had gone to a church to pray. Perhaps they had done both.
They walked up the short flight of steps. He unlocked the door, and they passed through. Devine gave it more time. He wanted to let them have a chance to settle, if they had just come back from the police morgue. And he wanted to make sure no cops showed up to meet with them on either a prearranged basis or a spontaneous one.
Twenty minutes later he eased out of his surveillance spot and walked across the street. He smoothed down his shirt and knocked on the door. It was answered a few moments later by the man.
He was around five eight, with glasses fronting periwinkle-blue eyes that were rimmed with red from crying. Devine could see hints of Sara in him. He had discarded the blazer and the cream shirt under it. He was in a white T-shirt and holding a cup of something.
“Yes?” he said, his tone and look surprised. He probably knew no one in the area and was not expecting visitors other than the police.
“Mr. Ewes?”
“Yes? Who are you?” He stared up at Devine with a bit of anxiety.
Devine knew he could look intimidating as hell to certain people, particularly with his damaged face, and he moved to quickly defuse any rising apprehension.
“My name is Travis Devine. I worked at Cowl and Comely with your daughter.” From his pocket he pulled out the lanyard with the photo security card attached and showed Ewes. “I’m so very sorry about what happened.”
“Did you... did you know Sara w-well?” His voice cracked before the end.
“She was the liaison with my group of interns. Everyone thought she was terrific.”
“Fred? Who is it?”
The woman appeared there. She was as thin as her husband, but paler. Her hair was blond with white roots. Her face was puckered, her bloodshot eyes wandering aimlessly at first but then holding on Devine.
She had on the same skirt but had shed the pumps. She was around five four in stocking feet. Sara had been nearly five nine. Since Fred wasn’t tall, there must be height somewhere else in the family tree, thought Devine.
“This young man knew Sara,” said Fred. “He worked with her at that place.”
“Well, please come in, Mr...?”
“Travis, Travis Devine. Thank you.”
“I’m Ellen, this is Fred.”
He stepped inside and Fred shut the door.
Ellen motioned him to a chair and the couple sat on the couch across from him.
The place was decorated with a blend of Wayfair buys mingled with original creations from the unique shops that littered the area. It was colorful and bright and optimistic, right down to the throw pillows and the rugs over the wooden plank floors. The brick fireplace held pinecones, which was a nice touch, he thought, in the heat of summer.
Devine had seen it all before, but when he had, Sara Ewes was alive.
“Excuse me,” said Ellen. “Would you like anything to drink? Fred just made some coffee. Or iced tea?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“So, you worked with Sara?”
“Not directly. Different division. And she was about six years ahead of me.” He caught their looks and said, “I went to West Point and then served in the Army for a number of years before leaving. Then I got my MBA.”
“Well, thank you for your service, Travis,” said Fred.
“I know this must be quite a shock to you both. The whole firm is reeling.”
“Was... was there any inkling of a problem?” asked Ellen, her voice small, but her hopeful look looming large.
Do they not know it was a homicide?
“None. She was doing great. I still can’t believe that she... took her own life.” He paused, waiting for them to respond to what he now knew was incorrect information.
Fred spoke in a trembling voice. “I know that’s what the police initially thought, Travis, but their thinking has changed.”
He looked between them. “What? I don’t understand.”
Ellen glanced down at her lap. She looked like she wanted to leap up and run from the room.
Fred said, “The police now believe that Sara was... that someone... killed her.” He put a hand to his mouth even as Ellen let out a sob.
“Oh my God, I’m so... sorry. This... is stunning.” And even though he knew all of this, now it was stunning to him. Like it was the first he was hearing of it, because he was seeing it through their eyes, their grief.
Seconds passed with nothing but elevated breathing among the three.
“So, you two were friends?” said Ellen.
“She had a lot of friends. She was very outgoing.”
“She mentioned that she was seeing someone,” said Ellen. “This was a while back. But she never gave a name.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said quickly.
“Do you live nearby?” asked Fred.
“No, I live way out in the northern suburbs. Mount Kisco. I take the train in. This is a beautiful place. She did a nice job decorating it.”
“Had you never been here before?” said Ellen, watching him closely.
He met her gaze. “No. Whenever we met it was in a group, mixers, company functions. Things like that.”
He glanced to the left where he knew Ewes’s bedroom was located.
Then he looked up to see Ellen’s eyes still on him. “But you knew where she lived, Travis.”
“I walked her home once from a bar near here. We’d been drinking. I just wanted to make sure she got home all right. But this is my first time being inside.”
“Oh, I see. I hope you didn’t come all this way to see us. But I suppose you didn’t even know we were here.”
“I didn’t. I came into town to see a play. Then I thought I’d come over here just to look at the place. I was thinking about Sara, you see. Then I saw you two get out of a cab and come in here. I didn’t want to bother you, so I went away for a while. But the more I thought about it, I just wanted to let you know how sorry I was. I didn’t know how long you were staying and didn’t know if I would have another chance. I was told you were coming in from another country.”
“New Zealand,” answered Fred. “I was transferred there. A very long trip.”
“A horrible trip,” Ellen added. “Nothing but hours and hours of having to think about—”
“I’m sure,” said Devine in a small voice. “What sort of business are you involved in?”
“We’re missionaries,” said Ellen, “spreading the word of Christ. Fred is actually an ordained minister.”
“That’s great. So, New Zealand?”
She said, “It may seem like an odd choice, but nearly half the people there follow no religion at all. Particularly the young people, which means their children will grow up without God in their lives. And while most Australians who practice a religion follow Christianity, the fastest-growing faiths down there are Hinduism and Sikhism.” She frowned at this.
Devine looked at Fred, who was staring at his wife. “Now, those are fine religions, Ellen. Lots of people believe that way. I’m just glad they’re practicing a faith. They have their god and we have ours.”
“My husband and I disagree on some things,” said Ellen graciously. “But we find common ground where we can.”
“I hear that most successful marriages do,” opined Devine, glancing at Fred before looking back at Ellen.
“We just came back from...” She eyed her husband.
He finished for her. “The... morgue.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”
“I suppose you just assumed we were her parents?” said Fred, obviously trying to move on from certain images probably gripping all of them.
“Partly, but I see some of Sara in each of you. Though she was taller.”
“My father and brother,” said Ellen with a sad smile. “They’re both six four. Sara took after them in the height department.”
He hunched forward, deciding to just go for it. “Have the police been by? Are they keeping you informed of everything?”
“They were here when we arrived last night,” said Fred. “They were already searching her things. I guess they’d do that with anyone, regardless of how she... But now, but now that they know she didn’t... That somebody...”
“Right. Sure. I guess they have to do all that. Get her electronic devices, diaries, whatever might help them find out who did this.”
Fred nodded in agreement. “Yes, they took all of those things. At least the ones that were here. And they looked everywhere, very thorough, dusted for fingerprints, that sort of thing. They were pretty much done when we arrived, so they said we could stay here while we’re in town.” He looked around. “She didn’t have this place when we moved to New Zealand. She had that little apartment... where again, Ellen?”
“Tribeca.”
“Right, Tribeca. Now she’s out here in Brooklyn. I thought that used to be a bad area.”
Devine said, “It’s a lot better than it was decades ago. And consequently the real estate has gotten really pricey.”
“Anyway, this is the first time we’ve seen Sara’s house. We haven’t been back until now, you see.” He paused, gumming his lips. “And now we are.”
Ellen just stared at the pinecones in the fireplace. She looked like she was puzzled as to why her daughter had not yet appeared and offered her coffee or tea or a hug.
“What play did you go see?” asked Ellen suddenly, her gaze back on him — unnervingly so, Devine thought.
“Waiting for Godot. Sara actually recommended it to a mutual friend of ours.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” said Ellen.
Fred said, “Any good?” He seemed to latch on to this line of conversation to escape, for at least a few seconds, what was crushing him.
“It definitely makes you think,” said Devine, who was also thinking that Ellen Ewes would hate it. “So I guess she never mentioned it to you?”
Fred shook his head. “We hadn’t heard from her in a while. When was it last, Ellen?”
“The problem is the time difference. Her night, our day thing. But it had been over a week. She’s our only child. Was our only child.”
She stopped talking and commenced quietly weeping.
Devine started to think all this had been a very bad idea. He rose and said, “I don’t want to intrude anymore. Again, I’m so sorry. And if there’s anything I can do while you’re in town.” He pulled out one of his cards with his direct business and cell phone numbers on it and handed it to Fred, who took it without looking at it.
Devine glanced at Ellen, who was once more staring at him with an intensity he couldn’t quite understand. “Sara did keep a diary, as you mentioned. But it’s not on the list the police gave us. They couldn’t find one. Yet she’d been keeping them since she was young.”
“That’s odd,” said Devine. And it did seem odd. “Maybe she started keeping everything in her personal cloud. Lots of people do now.”
“I think Sara was a very good friend of yours.”
Devine felt his gut tighten under her stare. “I liked her. Everyone did.”
Ellen took the business card from her husband and gazed down at it for a tense moment. “You’re wrong there, Mr. Devine,” she said.
“What’s that, honey?” said Fred sharply.
Ellen turned the card over and over in her hands, like it was hot to the touch. “Someone clearly didn’t like Sara at all,” she said.