“Prostitutes?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call them prostitutes.”
“They’re there for the members’ ‘entertainment,’ and they get paid for their services?”
“Yes.”
“A rose by any other name … tell me, Mr. O’Malley. Do you reside in Bedford Hills?”
“No. Manhattan and the West Coast.”
“Yet you are a member of the Lake Club?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve also participated in these late-night parties?”
“Yes.”
“Why is that, Mr. O’Malley?”
“My father, Patrick O’Malley, was a big deal at the club. I was granted membership when he died.”
“Did he participate in the after-hours entertainments?”
“Yes.”
“That is, he slept with young girls.”
“Yes.”
“Did Patrick O’Malley have a relationship with Maggie Bradford?”
“For many months. Maybe it was a couple of years.”
“And do you have a half-brother?”
“Yes. They all lived together.”
“Would you say that Patrick O’Malley and Maggie Bradford were in love?”
“So my father told me.”
“Yet he did not drop his membership in the club?”
“No.”
“Nor stop sleeping with young girls?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Was Mrs. Bradford aware of these ‘entertainments’ and your father’s part in them?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“She had pictures of my father and at least two of the girls.”
“She had pictures?”
“I found them in her bedroom. Their bedroom. After my father died. I helped collect his papers.”
“They were graphic pictures?”
“Very. My father and two girls.”
“We don’t need the details. Not at this time. Mrs. Bradford had possession of the pictures?”
“Yes.”
“What did she think of them?”
“I don’t know. She never told me.”
“What did you think of them?”
“It’s always a shock when a son sees his father in flagrante.”
“Of course. But you weren’t surprised.”
“No.”
“Now tell me, Mr. O’Malley, how did your father die?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? How is that possible?”
“He died on a boat. The cause was supposedly a heart attack.”
“‘Supposedly’? He was alone on the boat?”
“No. Mrs. Bradford was with him.”
“And they were alone together.”
“Yes. The Coast Guard found the boat. Mrs. Bradford told them how he died.”
“Did they believe her?”
“Evidently.”
“Tell me, Mr. O’Malley, did you know Will Shepherd?”
“Yes.”
“Would you say you were friends?”
“Social friends.”
“You had business dealings with him?”
“Yes. Business and social.”
“Ah. Social. Was Will Shepherd a member of the Lake Club?”
“Yes.”
“Of the club within the club?”
“Yes.”
“Then he partook of the ‘entertainment’?”
“Definitely.”
“Did Maggie Bradford know?”
Peter O’Malley paused, twisted in his seat, then he looked straight at me. “Yes, she did. That’s probably why she murdered him.”
As I said, there were a hundred objections during the testimony, but that was how I remembered it, and I’m sure how the jury did as well. I was losing … everything that I had ever loved or cared about.
CHAPTER 98
NORMA BREEN CAME to visit me that night just after the dinner hour. She had become one of my favorite people to see. We were both around the same age, both from blue-collar backgrounds, and we understood each other.
“Maggie, I hate to tell you this. I don’t like your songs,” she started in that night. It was Norma’s quaint way of saying “hi.”
“Bitch,” I said, but I smiled at her. She made me laugh when nobody else could; she was my buddy.
“No, you’re the bitch. You won’t help me do my job—which is, ironically, to help you get out of this zoo.”
I was still smiling. We both were, though the subject was deadly serious. You can only be deadly serious for so long, for so many hours, days, months in a row.
“I hate to tell you,” I told her, “I don’t like the way you do your job.”
“Too tough for you, huh? Too edgy?”
I put my hand across the table on top of hers. She was single, available, but probably because of the extra twenty pounds she carried, a lot of men were overlooking her. Their mistake. Big mistake.
“What’s on your mind today, sweetie?” I asked her. There was always something with her.
“I want to try to talk you out of your martyr thing. I hate Mother Teresa anyway. Stop being a martyr, Maggie.”
“I am a martyr. That’s what I had to do to be loved in our family, when I was a kid. I can’t help myself.”
Norma flipped over my hand, and she clasped it hard. “I love you, Maggie. I’ve learned to, in a very short time for me. A lot of people love you. You’re unfuckingbelievably lovable.”
I snorted out a laugh—my darkest humor was bubbling up. “Yes, everybody loves me but my husbands.”
“Maybe you picked a couple of losers, so you could play martyr? Like you said, maybe you can’t help yourself, Maggie. Only you can, you can help yourself.”
I sighed deeply. I thought that I knew where Norma was going. I was tired of hearing it from Barry and Nathan, but suddenly hearing it from Norma, from another woman, it sounded a little different.
“I can’t though,” I finally said. “Nice try, but I just can’t do it. I can’t put Jennie up there.”
“You can,” Norma insisted, and suddenly she began to gush tears. She’d never done that before; never completely let down her guard. Then we were both sobbing, holding hands, and crying our eyes out like a couple of old ninnies.
“I talked to Jennie, Maggie. She says the two of you have to talk. She said to tell you this was a ‘continuation’ of Pound Ridge, and that you owed her.”
CHAPTER 99
FOR THE LAST time, Norma Breen went to Maggie’s house in Bedford Hills. She was convinced she’d missed something; that everybody had. What in God’s name was it though?
Mildred Leigh met her at the door and offered her a cup of coffee. Allie was playing in the living room, and Norma was grateful for the chance to talk. She hadn’t interviewed Mrs. Leigh at any length; maybe this time she could get some useful information.
“I know you’ve been over and over this, but tell me about the day of the murder,” Norma said. “Were you in the house?”
“Until about six-thirty, then I left. It was my night off.” She blushed. “And I had a date with Mr. Frazier. Didn’t come back till the next morning, and then only to find the police and the press and Maggie accused of something she would never do.”
She seems pleased with herself, Norma thought. Makes sense. Her fifteen minutes of fame. “Did anything unusual happen before you left?” she asked. “Anything you can think of might help Maggie. Say whatever comes into your head.”
“It was a day like any other. No, nothing was very different. Nothing I can remember. Just like I told the police.”
“The two of them didn’t argue? Nothing like that?”
“They barely saw each other. Mr. Shepherd was in town, in New York for most of the day. I didn’t hear any fighting.”
“Describe what they did. Anything that you think of, Mrs. Leigh.”
“Well, Maggie, she was in her study. Writing her songs, I guess
. She would come out to talk with the children during her breaks. She and Allie love to play.”
“And Mr. Shepherd?”
“He got back from the city at some time. Don’t know when. Later that night, I saw him by the club. He was heading on back to the house.”
Norma was momentarily confused. “You were at the club, Mrs. Leigh? Why were you there?”
“J.C., he has a house there, on the grounds. Opposite side of the main building from the parking lot.”
“Do you know what Mr. Shepherd was doing there that night?”
“No, ma’am. Just saw him walk past J.C.’s.”
“What time was this?”
“Around ten, ten-thirty. Something like that.”
“You only saw him briefly?”
“Yes, ma’am. J.C. and I, we had better things to do than watch Mr. Will Shepherd.”
“I’m sure.”
What was Will doing by the club that night? It didn’t track with what Maggie had told her.
“But he wasn’t there for one of the parties? The ones that took place late?” Norma asked.
Mrs. Leigh glanced at her conspiratorially. “J.C. tell you? You know about those carryings-on?”
“Sure do. Did you happen to notice how Mr. Shepherd was dressed that night?”
“It was dark, ma’am. Only thing I know for sure, he was carrying his rifle back from the club.”
Norma could feel the small hairs rise on the back of her arms. “His rifle? Are you sure?”
“They shoot skeet there. At the shooting range down past the golf course. He often did that.”
“But not on the day he was killed.”
Mrs. Leigh sighed. “I told you. He was in New York most of the day. Left real early for him.”
“You told the police all of this?” Norma asked.
Mrs. Leigh nodded. “Everything that I’m telling you now.”
“About Mr. Shepherd and the rifle?”
“Of course.”
They finished their coffee. “Thank you, Mrs. Leigh,” Norma said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“Happy to oblige. You see that little boy in there? He’s a sweetheart, and he loves his mommy. We all want her to come home. We miss Maggie so bad.”
“So do I. Is there a phone I can use?”
“In the den. I’ll show you.”
“I can find it,” Norma said. She had to stop herself from running.
CHAPTER 100
“BARRY, I’M UP at Maggie’s house. I’m onto something. At least I hope so. No, I actually think I have something real going.”
Norma had closed the den door behind her, but she nevertheless whispered into the phone.
“I’m listening,” Barry said.
“You know that celebrated rifle in question?” Norma said. “Mrs. Leigh saw Will carrying it the night of the shooting. He was out by the country club, which more and more seems to be figuring into this brutal mess.”
“Why would he have had the rifle at the Lake Club?”
“First question I asked myself.” Norma’s voice rose in her excitement. “That’s why he went to the club. To fetch it. It’s where he must have kept it when Maggie told him to get rid of it. She said she looked everywhere around the house, but she could never find it. It was at the club.”
There was a long pause. Finally Barry said, “Now why would he want to do that? Did he stage his own suicide, Norma? Is that it? Did he frame Maggie?”
Norma felt a sudden surge of frustration and bewilderment. “Goddamnit, I don’t know yet,” she said. “Not a clue. That part doesn’t make any sense to me.
“But I’ll tell you what I do know,” Norma spoke again. “The Bedford police knew Will went to fetch the rifle, and they kept it to themselves. Something’s rotten in the state of Bedford, and I’m going to find out what, and who, and why.”
“Sic ‘em, Norma.”
“Grrrr.”
CHAPTER 101
LOOKED AT Jennie as she entered the visiting room and I wanted to cry. I wouldn’t let myself. I needed to be strong now, for both of us. I needed to listen to Jennie.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her though. I’d always loved her, much more than I cared about myself. People said we were a lot alike, only I saw Jennie as having few, if any, of my faults and weaknesses. We did look like each other. Jennie was tall now, almost five nine. Her blond hair was as long as mine. We had the same eyes.
I love you, I thought as she sat across the table from me. I hated the table being there, separating us now. I needed to hug Jennie, and to be hugged back. Never more than right at that moment, right now.
Suddenly, she cracked a smile. It was pure Jennie. “I have a message from Norma. She says she has proof that Mother Teresa is total bullshit. That she’s actually a Vegas act, in it for the money.”
I laughed out loud at the joke.
“Norma’s trying to help you, Mom,” Jennie leaned across the table and said in her most mature voice.
“I think I know that, Jen. How are you?”
Jennie rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, I’m good. I’m not great, but I’m okay.” She blew me two kisses. “Those are from Allie. Actually, he sent you a hundred kisses.”
“Does he still remember who I am?”
She rolled her eyes again. “We make him watch videos of your concerts so that he doesn’t forget. We read him your letters, show him your pictures. I’m here to talk about something else. We’re going to talk, Mom dear.”
“I understand,” I said to Jennie. “I respect your wishes.”
“Good, that’s a neat start. Now, I think you have to ask me questions, because you have certain ideas in your head, but I’m not sure what they are. So we’ll employ the Socratic method.”
I smiled. “I’m not even going to ask you about your grades.”
“Tops in my class. Stay on track. Stay with me here.”
This was the hardest yet, the worst thing I’d been through. Yes, I had certain ideas in my head. No, I wasn’t ready to talk about them. Maybe I would never be ready.
“I guess we could start with the night of the … of Will’s death,” I said.
“That’s a very good place to begin—at the end.”
“I saw Will up in your room. What was he doing there, Jennie?”
“He came to say good night.”
There was an innocence in Jennie’s words that made me stare. “That’s all? Jennie, you can’t lie, either to protect Will, or even my feelings. Are we agreed about that?”
“Sure. Those are the game rules. We’re agreed. Now, let’s play.”
“You tell me the truth, and I’ll do the same. Anything you want to know. About Will’s death.”
Jennie’s eyes stayed on mine. “I do have questions.”
“First me, then you, okay?”
She nodded. “Yep. That’s fine with me.”
I didn’t know exactly where to go next with my questions. I picked an obvious place.
“Did Will come to your room to say good night often?”
“He did sometimes. He’d bring me warm milk. He said that his aunt used to bring him tea, when he was a boy in England.”
The mention of Will’s aunt startled me, though Jennie couldn’t have known why. I took a deep breath. I didn’t know if I could go on with this. Prison wasn’t the place I wanted to have this kind of talk with Jennie.
She reached for my hand. “Can I try to make this easier … for both of us?”
“If you think you can,” I whispered. I didn’t have much of a voice left. I felt hollowed out, empty. Out of it. Unreal.
“Will was very complicated. You already know that. I think he, I think part of him, actually wanted to be a good father. He would come up to my room and talk sometimes, just talk. I think he wanted to prove he could be there and just talk. He told me a lot about when he was growing up. He was a good listener. Sometimes.”
“Yes, he could be,” I remembered.
“I had a w
icked crush on him, Mom. I thought he was so beautiful, like a god, like Ralph Fiennes or Mel Gibson on steroids. I used to think about him all the time.”
“But nothing ever happened?”
“I know he told you that he did, that we did—I was there, I heard it—but nothing ever happened, Mom. You don’t have to protect me. Please believe me, nothing happened.”
I put both my hands up to Jennie’s face. I wanted to be even closer, but that was the best we could do in this horrifying place.
“Let me be your witness, Mom. Please, please, let me do that for you? I need to help you, just this once. I think I can. Nothing happened between Will and me. You don’t have to protect me.”
CHAPTER 102
NORMA BREEN WAS in one of her usual bitching, grousing moods when she arrived at the Lake Club. The missing goddamn pieces to the puzzle! They’re around here somewhere, she kept telling herself, hoping that it might come true if she said it enough.
She had come to the club, specifically, to see J. C. Frazier. J.C. was in his late forties, his face weathered by the outdoors, his body trim and well muscled.
Well, he’s a looker, Norma Breen thought as she sat with him on the porch of the main building at the Lake Club. Now, let’s hope he’s a goddamn talker.
Norma eased into things, convincing J.C. to verify what she already knew: that there were late-night “parties” at the club; and that Will Shepherd had been an invited guest on several occasions.
“Would there be a list of names anywhere?” she asked. “Of the party boys?”
The groundskeeper shrugged his broad shoulders. “If there is, I’ve never seen one. I sure doubt it.”
“Then tell me some of the names. People you’ve seen here after hours. C’mon, J.C.”
J.C. shook his head. “Couldn’t do that. If anyone found out I had told, I’d lose my job. I’m not even supposed to know about it.”
“But you told me about Mr. Shepherd.”
“I’m trying to help you. I just can’t help as much as you might like.”
“Dammit, this is a murder investigation. What you know might save Mrs. Bradford’s life!”
J.C. shifted uneasily in his chair. “I realize that. That’s why I’m talking to you. Only don’t make me tell you the names. That, I can’t do.”