The Tell-Tale Horse

CHAPTER 14

Ah, Lakshmi.” Kasmir stared deep into his brandy snifter and shook his head.

The two men sat before the fire in the study at Charing Cross, the walls, painted lobster bisque, reflecting the light.

Upstairs the children slept. Downstairs their father agonized.

“Saturday.” High’s jaw set hard, then he covered his eyes, simply mentioning the day his wife would return.

“At least she didn’t mention divorce.” Kasmir ever sought to find the silver lining.

“Not yet. What could I do?” He threw up his hands. “The sheriff had to question her. He had the decency to give me some hours to compose myself before he called her in Phoenix.” He paused. “Her sister will suggest divorce.” He paused again. “She’s never liked me.”

“I remember.” Kasmir thought Mandy’s sister was one of those people who looks for what’s wrong instead of what’s right. The world is full of people like that.

High took a long sip of his brandy. “I didn’t kill Aashi. I didn’t even know she was in Warrenton.”

“Maybe she wasn’t,” Kasmir replied.

High sat up, leaning forward in the deep-seated wing chair. “Why would I kill her? I liked her. She was so full of gaiety, laughter, and energy. She made me feel young.”

“We aren’t that old, you know.”

“Old enough.” High put his snifter on the coffee table. “Old enough to start worrying about getting old.”

“Young women are an antidote. But I thought you had ended the affair. You wrote me last year that you had.” He half smiled. “I liked receiving the letter, but you made me laugh, saying you didn’t want to have this conversation on your cell, too many people could listen in. True, but why would they be listening to us?”

“Between us we possess stores of information.”

“Only about money.” Kasmir smiled.

High fell back into his chair. “Exactly.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

High opened his hands, palms outward. “Cooperate with the authorities.”

“Of course. I mean, what are you going to do about Mandy?”

“Isn’t it more, what is she going to do about me?”

Kasmir pursed his lips. “She’ll rage and cry when the children are out of the house. Maybe she’ll throw things at you or force some penance upon you. I’ve heard jewelry or a new car absolves many such sins.”

High grunted.

They both stared into the fire; then Kasmir spoke again. “When did you fan the embers?”

“Never really died. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. The funny thing is, I love my wife. You know that. I love our children. I love our life together, but I needed Aashi. Is it so hard to understand?”

Kasmir shrugged, “We’re men. Men understand. Women don’t. But let me pose the question: What would you do, were the situation reversed?”

“She’d never,” High answered, too quickly.

Kasmir nodded in agreement, while noting the haste. “Yes, yes, but what if, my old friend?”

“Well”—High shifted in his seat—“well, I’d be furious. I wouldn’t hit her; I might want to but I wouldn’t. If the man were someone close, that would be a double betrayal. I’d want to kill him.”

“Yes. That’s usually the case.”

High grunted. “At least I spared her that—the double betrayal, I mean.”

“She knew Aashi from when she was your secretary.”

“Aashi wasn’t my secretary for long. She was bright. I helped her move up and out. Better for me too. Sometimes people can sniff those things out in an office. I don’t think anyone did.”

“Someone did.”

“No, they didn’t.” High looked quizzically at Kasmir, comfortable in his cashmere robe.

“Who told the authorities you were having an affair with her?”

High sat bolt upright. “I never thought of that.”

“You’re too upset to think clearly,” Kasmir said, to soothe him.

“Who could it be?”

“Someone who observed you closely, perhaps.”

“I’m retired. If they told the police anything from our office days, it would be old news.”

“But whoever told the police indicated the affair was ongoing. Correct?”

“Correct.” High felt even worse now.

“Let us consider this logically, difficult as it is. Someone knew you and Aashi had either continued your affair or revived it; that detail will emerge in time, I suppose. Now, why would that be important?” He answered his own question. “You are a suspect. Men do kill their mistresses for all the old reasons. If there are new ones I know them not. You didn’t kill her. So whoever informed the sheriff—as I recall, the counties here have sheriffs, not police—at any rate, this person either thinks you are guilty or wants others to think so.”

High’s right hand came to his forehead. “Kasmir, it can’t be true.”

“Why?” the portly man pressed. “Why would someone wish to cast you in such a dreadful light? Do you have enemies here? Is someone seeking revenge from Craig and Abrams?”

“I helped Craig and Abrams double their profits.” High, not an egotistical man, did know his worth. “Yes, there were those with whom I was not close, people I even disliked, but not to this degree. You remember. I told you who would drag their heels, no vision, or who would complain about my administrative habits.”

“You did. Sometimes, Lakshmi, seemingly mild breasts harbor a deep reservoir of self-regard and hatred of others. It has been my experience that they reveal themselves when one is at one’s lowest.”

“Possibly but—”

“Is there anyone here, anyone you have crossed? Women like you. Perhaps some Virginia lady fell victim to your charms and her husband felt otherwise.”

“No. I flatter the ladies, as you do. That’s what one does. Sometimes Crawford Howard, Ramsey Merriman, Clayton Harper, and I would drive to D.C. I’d slip off for an hour, but I don’t think they knew.”

Kasmir sighed. “Then allow me to suggest a truly offensive possibility but one not out of the realm of my observations of life. What if Mandy killed Aashi?”

“Are you out of your mind, Kasmir? She is the most gentle of women.”

“Not now. She may have taken the news with relative calm on the telephone, but once home I wouldn’t expect the calm to continue.”

“Murder? My wife murder another woman? No.”

“Aashi wasn’t just another woman. She was your mistress and she was some twenty years younger than your wife, who was one of the world’s great beauties, to be sure, but is now middle-aged. This preys on a woman’s mind even as it preys on our own. Madhur”—he used her real full name—“must be facing the loss of this beauty, or the power of it.”

“She’s not that superficial.”

“Lakshmi, a woman’s face is her fortune. Myself, I believe your wife is more beautiful than ever. The years have burnished her beauty, motherhood has softened her, but a mistress, especially a young and gorgeous one, strikes at a woman’s heart.”

“I know,” High said quietly, feeling wretched.

“Was there time for Mandy to kill Aashi?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t keep a leash on her at the ball. I suppose.” He threw up his hands. “This is absurd. She would never do such a thing.”

“Yes, yes, but what if she had cracked your passwords or your communication with Aashi? She could have sent her an e-mail telling her to meet you at the Hampton Inn. Simple.”

“You’re supposing my wife ransacked my computer, found my secret files, and then proceeded to bait Aashi?”

“Your wife can use a computer better than most of us.”

“She wouldn’t.”

“She had powerful motivation. So now I come to my next question. If she did kill Aashi, will you protect Mandy and say you did it?” Kasmir wanted to know if High loved his wife as much as he said.

High shut his eyes and covered them with his right hand. “Yes.”