The Lost Years

14

In the thirty seconds following Lisa Scott’s outburst, Simon Benet put in a call to the Mahwah police department to report the theft of her jewelry. Lloyd Scott snapped, “I’ll be back,” and rushed next door to wait with his wife for a squad car to arrive.

Mariah looked from one detective to the other. “I can’t believe the Scotts were burglarized,” she said. “I can’t believe it. Just before they went on that trip last month, Lloyd was talking about the new security system and the cameras and God knows what-all he put in and around the house.”

“Today, unfortunately, there are few systems that can’t be penetrated by experts,” Benet told her. “Was it generally known that Mrs. Scott kept a lot of valuable jewelry in her home?”

“I don’t know. She talked about it to us, but certainly everyone knew she had a business creating her own designs and always wore beautiful jewelry.”

As she was speaking, Mariah felt as though she was an observer of what was going on in this room. She looked past the detectives to the portrait of her father hanging over the piano. It was a wonderful likeness that captured the intelligence in his expression and the hint of a smile that was never far from his lips.

The sun was streaming through the windows on the back wall, creating patterns of light on the geometric design of the creamy carpet. Feeling somehow detached, Mariah realized how much cleaning Betty must have done to restore the shining orderliness of the spacious living room after the investigators had dusted for fingerprints. It seemed incredible to her that the room was now again so cheerful and welcoming, with its matching floral-patterned couches and wing chairs at the fireplace and occasional tables that could be moved so easily. When her father’s friends had visited they would always pull the chairs up to the couch to form a semicircle where they would have coffee and a nightcap after dinner.

Greg, Richard, Albert, Charles.

How often had she sat here with them over the years since her father had retired from teaching? Some nights Betty would cook, but other nights, her father would take over the kitchen. Cooking had become a hobby for him, and he had not only enjoyed it but had been naturally good at it. Three weeks ago he made a big green salad, a Virginia ham, baked macaroni, and garlic bread, she thought. That was the last dinner we all had together…

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.”

It was twenty minutes before Mariah came back into the living room. “My mother is asleep in the closet,” she said, her voice flat. “All this has been… ” Feeling herself start to choke up, she stopped and began again. “All this has been overwhelming.”

They spoke for over an hour. They were experienced detectives and they questioned her intently. She did not deny that she was intensely resentful about Lily or that she had been very disappointed in her father.

She answered all of their questions about the gun truthfully. Ten years ago her mother had enjoyed going to the shooting range with her father, but certainly she had not been there since the dementia had started. She was startled to hear that the gun showed no sign of rust. She told them that if her father had gone to the range himself since then, he had never mentioned it to her. “I know he used to keep it in his desk drawer,” she said, “and I know what you may be thinking now. But do you seriously believe that if my father was sitting at his desk and my mother came down and reached into that drawer and took out the gun, he wouldn’t have stopped her? I mean, my God, for all I know that gun may have been out of this house for years.”

Then she added, “But I just learned yesterday that my father had a premonition of death, and that he may have revealed to someone that he had come across a priceless ancient parchment and was concerned about one of the experts he had consulted.”

Mariah was intensely relieved when the detectives finally left. She watched their car pull out of the driveway and permitted herself a glimmer of hope. The detectives had phoned Father Aiden and were now headed to New York to speak with him about the parchment that may have been written by Christ to Joseph of Arimathea.