“It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been,” Caroline Holder said. “It matters that it’s happened at all. And then there’s the management. We have a maid service that comes in once a month and a lawn service that comes in every week during the spring and summer and repair people for specific jobs, like painting and that kind of thing. Somebody has to hire and fire those people and make sure they’re doing their jobs. And I’m here.”
“Yes,” Gregor said. “You are.”
“If you’re thinking that one of us came in here and killed Chapin because we wanted to sell the house—well, it’s not possible. Charlotte and Cordelia both live out of state, and I don’t know if I would have recognized Chapin if she came right up to me and told me who she was. It had been thirty years, Mr. Demarkian, and I was only eight.”
“But you did identify the body,” Gregor said.
“I went down to the morgue and looked,” Caroline Holder said. “What I saw was a woman who looked a lot like me. So I stated the obvious. I told them I thought it could be Chapin. I think they finally made the definitive identification some other way.”
“And you were where on the day the murder happened?” Gregor asked.
Caroline Holder smiled. “I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask me that question. On the evening when I think they’ve decided it happened, I was at my children’s school. I’m part of a group that helps to bring musical instruments into the schools. We were discussing a harpsichord.”
“And earlier in the day?”
“Earlier in the day,” Caroline Holder said, “I was doing what people do earlier in the day. I did some shopping. I did some housework. I did some gardening.”
“You don’t work?”
“No,” Caroline Holder said. “I don’t need to work, financially. My husband does well enough even without my money. I thought I’d give my children the kind of childhood I’d always wanted to have.”
“The one that was interrupted by your sister,” Gregor said.
“Oh, the mess started long before that,” Caroline Holder said. “You’ve got to grow up in a place like Alwych to know just how awful that can be.”
Gregor raised his eyebrows slightly. Caroline Holder put her hands in her hair again.
“I think I’ll get out of here before you can start the whole ‘poor little rich girl’ thing,” she said. “Yes, I know. There was always enough money and none of us ever wanted for anything.”
“Except love?” Gregor said.
“Don’t be maudlin,” Caroline Holder said. “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. Now for God’s sake, let’s not have this happen again.”
“You’re going to have to hire your own security man,” Mike Held insisted.
“One more thing,” Gregor said. “Who has keys to this house?”
“Keys?” Caroline said. “Well, I do. And my sisters do. The cleaning service has a set. They have to, or I’d have to let them in every time they need to be here. And the police have a set.”
“That’s since the murder?” Gregor asked.
“No,” Caroline said. “As far as I know, the police have had a set at least since my sisters took over caring for the house. We want them to be able to get in and out of here if there’s a problem.”
“And all those people also have the code for the security system?” Gregor asked.
“I suppose so,” Caroline Holder said. “I do and the police do and the cleaning service does. I’m not sure about my sisters.”
“How about the family lawyer, say, or the repair people—?”
“The lawyers—and it’s plural—do not. If there are repairs needed to the interior of the house, I let the repair people in myself.”
“Interesting,” Gregor said.
“You really do think one of us killed Chapin,” Caroline said. “Well, I suppose I can’t stop you thinking it. It might have worked if we could have done it and hidden the body somewhere, but that isn’t what happened. Now there’s all this, and it’s not going to make anything better. It’s making everything worse. And besides, why would any of us want to kill her? You don’t kill someone you haven’t seen in thirty years. You don’t have enough in common.”
3
Caroline Holder left without spewing gravel, which Gregor told himself was a good thing. He wouldn’t want to have to deal with the woman in that state of anger for very long.
He waited until she was all the way out of the driveway and then went back into the house, through the foyer and into the large living room beyond. He went to the sliding glass doors and checked the sliders for the rods. They were there. He moved from room to room, checking every door he found. None of the doors to the exterior looked as if it had been in any way tampered with. He went back to the front door and checked that again. It still looked pristine.