now, that’s Julian. I’m her mother, and even I know she looks as guilty as sin. But there’s someone else out there, Jeff, someone who murdered Tad and now Richard. He’ll go free again.”
She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes, even though Jeffrey had not actually seen any tears. He could see that she had been a beautiful woman once. Even now, with her silver hair, fair skin, and searing blue eyes, she was remarkable. Her face was a map of fine lines, but they communicated depth and character to Jeffrey rather than old age, beauty faded.
As Eleanor made a show of wiping her eyes, Jeffrey looked up and saw Lydia walk through the glass doors of the office, feeling the familiar lift in his heart that he did every time he saw her. She was shadowed by Dax, and looked tiny next to his large frame. He could see the flush of her skin, her black hair pulled back into a tight, high ponytail. He watched her stop at the reception desk and then stride toward his office, all attitude, dressed head to toe in black except for her white Nike running shoes and socks.
Lydia entered Jeff’s office without knocking, bringing with her the scent of cold air outside. Eleanor startled a bit and looked up from her tissue. Then she rose, extending her hand.
“I’m an admirer of your work, Ms. Strong,” she said. “That’s why I’ve come here.”
“I’m a great fan of your daughter’s. I was sorry to hear of the tragedy that your family suffered today,” answered Lydia, taking Eleanor’s hand in both of hers. Jeffrey wondered at how she had gathered so much information in the half hour since he’d spoken to her, as he watched Lydia focus all the energy of her attention on Eleanor. He’d watched people shrink under that gaze, as if sensing that she could see all the facets of themselves they strove to hide.
Eleanor only nodded at the compliment and sat down again, lowering her eyes. Lydia sat in the chair beside her, leaned back, and crossed her legs. Jeffrey could see the flash in Lydia’s eyes as she sized up the woman next to her before Eleanor raised her eyes again.
“How can we help you, Ms. Ross?” asked Lydia.
“Ms. Ross would like us to find out who killed her son-in-law,” said Jeffrey.
“Which one?” asked Lydia, and Jeffrey suppressed a smile. “I mean, the case ten years ago was never solved, was it?”
“No. That is why I am here today,” answered Eleanor, barely concealing her annoyance at having to repeat herself. “I don’t want the same thing to happen this time.”
Jeffrey noticed that she’d dropped the frightened, desperate-mother persona she had employed in her conversation with him and that her imperiousness had returned.
“Where’s your daughter now?” asked Lydia.
“She’s at the Payne Whitney Clinic, where she’s being treated for a psychotic break she suffered this morning. Quite a natural response to the trauma she’s suffered, I’m told. Especially for someone so emotionally … fragile.”
“Shouldn’t she have gone to Bellevue?” asked Jeffrey, knowingthat the Midtown hospital was the standard place to bring what the police referred to as EDPs, emotionally disturbed persons.
“Our lawyer was able to see that she was taken to the hospital with which her psychiatrist is affiliated.”
“Is that to say that she’s had mental health issues in the past?” asked Lydia.
“Julian has suffered severe bouts of depression in her life. But since the birth of the twins, she’s been quite stable. Now … this. Well …” Her voice trailed off and she didn’t finish the thought.
“Can we talk to her?”
“She’s not lucid.”
“Still …”
“I’ll arrange it, if you think it will help.”
Lydia looked closely at Eleanor, wondering how she could be so cool and unemotional in light of the events of the day. Eleanor had appeared to be wiping her eyes when Lydia entered, but Lydia didn’t sense any genuine sadness from the woman. She