Bleeding Hearts(42)

Gregor gnawed a piece of radicchio, winced at its bitter flavor, and took a sip of wine. “That shouldn’t matter, should it? You said Jacqueline Isherwood was a rich woman. Her money wasn’t entailed or tied up in any way?”

“No, it wasn’t entailed,” Bob Cheswicki said, “but it turned out not to have been willed to Paul Hazzard either. There was money left in trust for the upkeep of the Philadelphia house. They can all live there forever for nothing, basically. The trust pays for the repairs, the light bill, the electricity, everything. There was money left in trust for the three children too, but to be paid out only on Paul Hazzard’s death. There was nothing at all left to him.”

“Not even an income?”

“Not even an income.”

“But why? I thought you said they got on well together.”

“I didn’t actually say they got on well together,” Bob said. “I said the marriage was mostly uneventful. As to Jacqueline Isherwood Hazzard’s will, I think the intention was twofold. With the children—they’re not such children now, by the way; they’re in their forties—anyway, Paul Hazzard had put quite a bit of money into annuity trusts for the children while business was good. None of them was rich in the classic manner, and all of them had to do at least some work to live the way they liked to live, but they were mostly all right even without a share of Jacqueline’s money. And as for Paul Hazzard, well. There was a little problem with Paul Hazzard in the last year before Jacqueline died. Seems he was keeping a woman.”

The waiter came back to check on their progress with their salads. It was clear from his face that they hadn’t progressed enough. Gregor and Bob both ignored him.

“I didn’t think,” Gregor said, “that women were kept these days. I thought it was out of fashion.”

“Her name is Candida DeWitt—or that’s what she calls herself—and she most definitely likes to be kept. Oh, she owns her own house out in Bryn Mawr and a stack of securities in her own name and all the rest of it, but idiosyncratic as the arrangements might be, what she definitely is is kept. Expensively kept. And she comes right out and admits to it.”

“Ah,” Gregor said. “So Jacqueline’s will was a form of revenge.”

“I don’t know,” Bob admitted. “That’s what the prosecution alleged at the trial, of course, to present motive. Paul Hazzard thought Jacqueline was going to leave him because of Candida DeWitt. Paul Hazzard needed Jacqueline’s money. Paul Hazzard killed Jacqueline to get Jacqueline’s money. But the truth of the matter is, we didn’t really have a shred of evidence that Jacqueline knew about Candida DeWitt. The only thing we were absolutely sure of was that that will was a surprise to Paul Hazzard.”

“What made you sure?”

“Paul Hazzard made us sure. When he heard about it, he made a very public and very nasty scene. In front of sixteen witnesses, by the way, including four police officers and a district court judge.”

“Where was he told about the will?”

“The contents came out at the inquest. He should have heard about it before that, of course, but he was tied up doing seminars and the lawyers hadn’t been able to get hold of him long enough to tell him. He blew a fit, Gregor. I saw him.”

“Funny, isn’t it? I’ve never met the man, but from everything I’ve heard about him, he doesn’t sound like the kind who’d be likely to blow fits.”

“I think all these psychologist guys are a little nuts underneath.”

“I still don’t understand about the motive,” Gregor said. “If Paul Hazzard was bringing in a million five a year—by the way, was that net or gross?”

“Net before taxes.”

“Net before taxes. Well then. Even after taxes, even after this mistress of his, he must have had something left.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“From a million five. Did he buy sports cars? Did he gamble?”

“Nope. He just didn’t pay attention. It adds up, Gregor. It really does. Fifteen magazines every time you pass a newsstand. A sweater you see in a catalogue and like so you order it in all six colors. Fifteen pairs of shoes. Day after day. Week after week. Year after year. It adds up. I can show you the balance sheets if you like. We subpoenaed them.”

“Aren’t they confidential information?”

Bob Cheswicki shrugged. “I made you an official consultant to the police department for this case ten minutes after you called. I got the chief’s permission. We’re paying you a dollar.”