“Marianne Ross,” Marty said, apologetically.
Marianne Ross ran a single large, spread-fingered hand through her hair. “You’re—who? I’ve seen you before.”
“My name is Gregor Demarkian.”
“I remember. You handled the Hannaford case out here a few years ago. God, that was a mess. I thought my mother was going to choke. My mother was the kind of woman who had hysterics about publicity. I suppose she’ll get publicity now. I suppose there won’t be any way to avoid it.”
“No,” Gregor said. “I don’t think there will be.”
Marianne Ross looked away. “You’ve got to wonder what’s wrong with these people. Don’t they have anything else to do? It isn’t as if my parents were the Beatles, or whoever it is these days. It’s not as if they were jumping around in front of television cameras every chance they got. They were very private people.”
“Dominick Dunne says that nothing is as fascinating as rich people in a criminal circumstance.”
“I can’t stand Dominick Dunne. He’s a throwback. And there’s nothing criminal here. My parents didn’t do anything but walk out their own front door and become the targets of a crank. He’ll turn out to be an escaped mental patient or a member of the Symbionese Liberation Army.”
“I’m not sure the Symbionese Liberation Army is still in existence,” Gregor said.
Marianne Ross snorted. “It doesn’t matter what they call themselves. It’s all the same. They’re all obsessed with money and they want to be famous and we’re available. I don’t understand why the police don’t just round them all up and lock them all up instead of waiting for somebody to be killed. It’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”
It was also in direct contradiction to the U.S. Constitution and to dozens of laws meant to safeguard the rights of people to express their opinions and receive due process in the criminal justice system, but Gregor didn’t tell her that. Marianne Ross wasn’t really listening. The rant was automatic, what she did instead of crying in front of a lot of people she didn’t know.
“I’ve got to go talk to my sisters,” she said. “They’re upset as hell. We were all here to bury our father.”
She turned on her heel and walked off. Gregor watched her go. Frank Margiotti and Marty Tackner watched her go too.
“She’s something else,” Marty said. “She’s like a locomotive. I think we’ve just talked to the first woman president of the United States. Maybe we talked to the first woman Pope.”
“I don’t think the Pope can be a woman,” Frank said.
“If she wants to be Pope, she’ll fix that,” Marty said. Then he turned to Gregor Demarkian. “Sorry, Mr. Demarkian. We’re still in crisis mode here. Did Frank tell you anything about what’s going on?”
“Not really,” Gregor said.
“That one,” Frank jerked his head to indicate the departed Marianne, “says she saw her mother go out onto the front walk a little after four.”
“And was that usual?” Gregor asked.
“No,” Marty said. “It wasn’t. She said she had no idea what her mother was doing, but she didn’t really think anything of it, because why would she? They were in their own house. Her mother could go out the front door and look around if she wanted to.”
“I agree. Then what?” Gregor asked.
“Then,” Frank said, “she—this is Marianne, now—she went down this hall to the den, which is about two doors closer to the center than this one. The rooms are pretty big. That’s a fair ways down. Marianne went into the den and she was there when she heard the shots.”
“Why did she go into the den?” Gregor asked.
“She didn’t say,” Marty said. “Look, we’re still in the middle of the crime scene. The body just left. I know it’s best to get as much information as you can as soon as you can, but I think that under the circumstances—”
“No, no,” Gregor said. “It’s all right. I wasn’t criticizing you. I was just trying to work things out. Marianne went into the den. Somebody else was here too, though, what’s his name? Alden?”
“David Alden,” Frank said.
“Who is David Alden?”
“He was Tony Ross’s right-hand man at the bank,” Frank said. “Not that he puts it like that, and not that anybody else does, either, but that’s what it comes down to, I think. The guy who could pull the strings when Tony Ross wasn’t there.”
“The man who will take over now that Tony Ross is dead?” Gregor asked.