The April Fools' Day Murder Read online

  “Well, maybe you can,” Roger said. “The police have pretty much homed in on me. I’ve talked to a lawyer and he doesn’t think they have anything concrete against me—they can’t; there isn’t anything. I didn’t kill my father.”

  “You said you had a difficult relationship with him.”

  “I had almost no relationship with him. I visited my parents because I love my mother and I couldn’t deny her her grandchildren. You’re aware that Doris and I live apart. No one else in the world knows that, not my parents, not my children, not even the place where I work. One great thing about communicating by e-mail is that the other party has no idea where the message is coming from. I could be across the country for all they know.”

  “What do you know about your father’s will?” I asked.

  “I’ve never seen it. I don’t know where it is. I don’t know the name of the lawyer he used. I know that after my father wrote it, my mother told me he had cut me out without giving me a cent. That’s what I know about my father’s will.”

  “What did that do to you, hearing that he had disinherited you?”

  “It didn’t do anything to me. I didn’t want his money. When I was young, I wanted his approval. Maybe I even wanted his love. I didn’t get either of those things. I never had any idea what my father was worth—I still don’t. And it makes no difference to me. I’m sure there’s enough there for my mother to live on. That’s the only thing that matters. Where it goes after that is of no interest to me.”

  It was a grand statement, if true. The way he said it, it was very believable. “So your father never talked to you about his will.”

  “We hardly talked at all.”

  “Suppose I told you he wrote another will a few years ago.”

  He stared at me. “How do you know that?”

  “Toni called me just before she left. They had suddenly thought about the will and your mother went to wherever it was kept and found both the old one and the new one.”

  “Why would he do that?” he said, looking bewildered. “All the grandchildren were mentioned. What did he change?”

  “At your mother’s death, you and your sister share equally.” I watched his face. This was the moment I had come for.

  “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  “This is terrible,” he said. “If the police find out—”

  “I haven’t told them. But they can find out very easily.”

  “My God, they’ll think—You’re sure about this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He rubbed his cheek with his palm. He was a nice-looking man, taller than his father, trim, his hair thinning. Right now he looked almost scared. “Why didn’t my mother tell me?”

  “She just found out last weekend. It was as big a surprise to her as it is to you. Can you think of any reason he would have done this?”

  He shook his head. “It gives me a motive,” he said. “Don’t you see that? This is the concrete thing that my lawyer said they didn’t have.”

  “Your father never told you he was doing this,” I pressed.

  “My father and I had very few conversations in the last ten years.”

  “Was your mother happy living with your father?” I asked.

  “Reasonably. He was good to her, I’ll say that. I was the one who wouldn’t toe the mark.” He seemed almost to be in a daze. If this was an act, he was a better actor than his father had ever been.

  “Mr. Platt, I want to ask you about the land your father owned.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something? My mind is just wandering.”

  “The land on the hill that your father owned. The land Mr. Vitale was interested in buying.”

  “The land, yes. There are several acres, ten or twelve, I think. Vitale only asked for one or two, across the road from our house, the section that abuts the nursery.”

  “You said he might have been interested in building houses on it.”

  “I’m sure he was. I’m sure the reason he gave for wanting it was just a subterfuge. That area is zoned for residential buildings. He wouldn’t even have needed a variance.”

  “Have there been other people interested in buying that land?”

  “Oh, yes. Over the years builders would contact my father and ask if he was interested in selling off some of it.”

  “What do you think your mother will do with it?”

  “I don’t know. It’s got to be worth two million or more. If she needs money, she may consider selling some of it. I don’t really know what my father left to her. Since I wasn’t going to inherit, I had no interest in that.”

  It sounded very convincing to me, that and his appearance. “Well, I would guess your mother is well off. If she decides to sell, she’ll probably have a buyer very quickly.”

  “Lots of buyers. That’s prime land. Look, I’m really very upset by what you’ve told me. Are we finished here?”

  “I’m done.” I put my coat on and dug my keys out of my bag.

  “I’ll have to talk to Mom about that new will. I can’t believe—” He stopped very suddenly and I turned to look at him.

  “Did you think of something?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  I waited, but he said nothing else. As I started for the door I heard a door open somewhere else. Then Doris, in her coat, came from the kitchen area.

  “Chris, I’m glad I got back in time to see you.”

  I was about to say hello when Roger said, “Doris, did you ever hear that Dad made a new will?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Mom never said anything to you? Or Dad?”

  “All I know about is that will he cut you out of.”

  “Absolutely crazy,” Roger said.

  I wished them both good night and went out. They hardly knew I was leaving. Roger was explaining to his wife what I had told him.

  “What a family,” Jack said. “You’re pretty sure you surprised him with the news?”

  “He was in a daze, Jack. He couldn’t believe it.”

  “Well, his mother called you while you were out. You can call her back. It’s not too late.”

  I could smell coffee and knew Jack had been waiting for my return to have his. It had become one of our nightly rituals and we both enjoyed it. I told him I wouldn’t be long and dialed Winnie.

  “Chris,” she said. “Harry called me. He said you’d been to see him.”

  “Yes. I saw him this morning.”

  “He said it had to do with that bullet wound the Medical Examiner found in Will.”

  “Yes, we talked about that.”

  “It seems so funny. I was married to my husband for so many years and he never said a word about it. I always thought that was a little malformation or a childhood scar. I never asked.”

  “I think it didn’t matter much to him,” I said, not certain how much Harry had said.

  “Actually, I called about something else. The police asked if my husband left a will.”

  My heart started pounding. “What did you do?”

  “I told them I was looking for it. I’ll have to get back to them. I’ve been thinking. This new will, while I’m glad to see my husband had a change of heart about Roger, this will makes it seem that Roger could have killed his father for the inheritance. I know the police consider him a suspect.”

  “They have no proof, Winnie.”

  “Well, you know, there are a lot of things. Roger has a key to the house, so he could have put the cane in the basement while the rest of us were out, like when we were at the funeral. He has no alibi for that time.”

  I smiled at the word alibi. “If he’s innocent, he doesn’t need an alibi.”

  “But who knows where he was or what he was doing that morning?”

  “I think you’re upsetting yourself, Winnie. I don’t think Roger did it.”

  “Roger didn’t do it,” she said firmly. “He may not have gotten on well with his father, but he would never kill him. He’s a g
ood and decent person.”

  “I agree with you.”

  “So this is what I was thinking. If there were no second will, there would be no reason for Roger to kill his father.”

  I didn’t like where this was going. “But there is a second will.”

  “Not if it disappears. Not if no one found it. The old will is perfectly good.”

  “Winnie—”

  “You’ve never seen the second will, Chris. You don’t know that it exists.”

  “It’s true that I’ve never seen it.”

  “I think nobody has ever seen it,” Winnie Platt said. “I think the only will Toni and I saw was the one I remember Will writing a long time ago. I have that one right here. I found it in the file drawer where Will told me he kept it. There’s nothing else in the folder marked ‘Wills.’ ”

  “Wills?” I said, noticing the plural.

  “Well, I have a will too, of course, in case I died first. I own half the house, there are some stocks in my name. The lawyer said I should have a will too.”

  “To whom did you leave your money?”

  “To Will first, then to my children and grandchildren. Our wills were not the same. I remember the discussion we had in the lawyer’s office.”

  “And that was the last one you wrote?”

  “It’s the only one I ever wrote. Surely if my husband had written a second one, I would have updated mine. Doesn’t that sound reasonable?”

  She was giving me the logic behind her decision. “All I can say is, your husband must have had a reason for changing his mind. I think that should be honored.”

  “I can’t let my son be arrested for a murder he didn’t commit.” It was the most forceful I had ever heard her.

  I really hate dishonesty. I don’t mean that we should not tell the kinds of little white lies that spare people from pain and embarrassment. I mean everyone should try to tell the truth so that people will not get hurt or cheated, so that business and government and the rest of life can function smoothly.

  But I am also a mother. I could feel inside me how Winnie felt. She knew her son was innocent, and she wanted to erase the only real evidence that might be used against him. I didn’t blame her, but I couldn’t go out on a limb and assist her.

  “Winnie, I’m sure there’s a copy of the new will at a lawyer’s office.” Not to mention the fact that I had already told Roger.

  “You may be right.” She spent a moment thinking about it. “I suppose it could surface someday. The lawyer could die and they could clean out his files. Or he might call here to ask a question.”

  “Those things are possible.”

  “But it might not happen for twenty years. The lawyer is in New York. I didn’t put a notice in the Times when my husband died. I’m going to think about this, Chris. I hope you see my point of view. I’m a mother protecting her son. You have a son. You would do anything to protect him.”

  She was right about that. “Yes, I would.”

  “Any mother would. Well, it’s quite late. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

  I hung up the phone feeling washed out.

  “You off the phone?” Jack called. “Yes.”

  “Let’s have some coffee. You look a little weird.”

  “I feel weird.”

  Jack had cut up a pineapple and we each had a quarter. It was sweet and juicy with great aroma. I waited till I was halfway through the fruit and the coffee before telling him what Winnie had said and what Roger had told me earlier. I was concerned, not just about Winnie’s ethics, but about my own. I had never been placed in a situation where I was asked to withhold material information. Not that Winnie had asked explicitly. I had marveled, while we were talking, at how she had intimated things without actually saying them. It was clear that she now regretted having told me about the second will. She was right that I had never seen it, never read a single word of it, but I had no doubt of its existence. It was even possible that as we sat here enjoying our dessert and coffee that the second will no longer existed. She could have put it in the fireplace, in one of the many fireplaces in that wonderful house, and burned it to ashes, along with the lawyer’s card, so that no record of his name and address could be found. It had been drawn up by a different lawyer, Toni had told me, someone they were not familiar with.

  What a strange turn of events. Who wouldn’t be happy to find he was heir to a great deal of money? In this case it was a trick question. In this case, inheriting from your father might become a death sentence.

  23

  I got Eddie off to school on Thursday morning and, pencil in hand, sat down to do some thinking. Jack and I had had a long conversation last night about ethics, morals, and the law. We didn’t agree about everything but we were both concerned about Winnie’s decision to make the second will disappear. One of the many things that occurred to me was that if Roger had actually committed the murder and was found guilty of it, he wouldn’t inherit from his father regardless of his father’s wishes. But if he were innocent, he would be deprived of half his father’s estate, which seemed to me to be fairly large. He had tossed off the price of the land, two million, as though he were talking in thousands, but I had no sense that the amount was inflated. I’ve seen the appraisal of the plot of land our house is on and I catch my breath at the number. The fact that Aunt Meg bought it for a few thousand dollars many years ago doesn’t diminish its current value.

  Until Winnie’s call last night, I had begun to think that perhaps this homicide was over a land deal after all. And it might not be Mr. Vitale who had killed Willard Platt, although that was still a possibility; it could have been Winnie. Winnie was shrewd; I had seen that last night when she coaxed me obliquely not to talk about the second will. If I happened to be blind to the value of land, that didn’t mean that a woman whose husband owned ten or twelve acres didn’t know what it was worth. And maybe she and her husband disagreed on the disposition of the land. I was assuming that the Platts had a lot of money, but I didn’t know that for a fact. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was the land that was the bulk of their holdings. It was possible they had gone through whatever money they’d accumulated and Winnie wanted to sell the land and her husband didn’t. Maybe they fought about it. I didn’t really believe that Winnie went out to the garage with the intention of killing her husband, or even harming him, but from what I had learned about him, it was in character for him to blow up and be violent. And maybe that had happened on April Fools’ Day. With Will gone and the land sold, Winnie would have enough to live on for the rest of her life.

  Having made some vague notes in my book, I looked up the mayor’s number and called him. His wife got him to the phone.

  “Mrs. Brooks?”

  “Good morning, Mayor Strong.”

  “You figure out who killed Willard Platt?”

  “Not yet. I talked to Mr. Vitale after you and I spoke last week.”

  “Over at the nursery?”

  “Yes. And I have some questions about the land on the hill.”

  “I’ll try to answer them,” he said, sounding cautious. “Is that area zoned for residential use?”

  “Exclusively, but we made an exception if the nursery wanted to expand. And if the Vitales give up the nursery, which I think they will when they get a little older, that reverts to residential also. We’re not gonna have a supermarket moving in at that location.”

  I was rather happy to hear that myself. “Are the lots zoned for any particular size?”

  “Minimum one acre. You thinking of buying?”

  “I don’t think I can afford an acre up there. That’s pretty pricey land, I hear.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if it went for up to half a million an acre.”

  That was a lot more than Roger’s estimate. “Are you aware of anyone wanting to buy that land from the Platts?”

  “Willard Platt didn’t take me into his confidence,” the mayor said shortly.

  “But I’m sure you know what’s going on in
town,” I said, hoping to prod him into being more forthcoming.

  “I know everything that goes on in Oakwood. And yes, there is interest in building on that land. I’d guess if Mrs. Platt put it up for sale, she could close a deal in twenty-four hours. That’s prime land up there. I could give you the names of three builders who would drop everything to get their hands on it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mayor.”

  Prime land. I had the image of builders crouching at a starting gate, just waiting for the signal that would let them dash up to the Platts’ and make an offer they couldn’t refuse. Even if the mayor had exaggerated the value of the land, it would surely net Winnie several million, and with one acre zoning, no one would be very close to her house. Her privacy would be preserved and she would be able to live more than comfortably.

  But there was another aspect to the value of the land, and that was Mr. Vitale. What if he had learned only recently what the current asking price was? From what he had said to me so candidly, he still felt a strong antipathy to Willard because of the land sale that hadn’t happened. I had just discovered the value of the land a few minutes ago; maybe he learned of it in the last few weeks and the festering anger had become inflamed. If he owned that land now, he might be able to sell it at a huge profit, especially if he had built a house on it. What was good for Winnie made Vitale look more like a suspect. It would also account for the long time that may have elapsed between the land deal and Willard’s murder.

  I called Joseph and told her what had happened since our last conversation. There was a lot to report and she listened quietly.

  “So it’s possible that someone killed Mr. Platt in order to make an offer for the land to Mrs. Platt.”

  “Exactly. I’m pretty convinced that Willard didn’t want to sell, but that doesn’t mean Winnie didn’t.”

  “But why would she want to sell, Chris?”

  “For the money. I can’t think of any other reason. I don’t think it would be for the company.”

  “You’d think that Willard would have agreed to sell some of the land if he needed the money. He could have sold the land across the road or up the hill, leaving plenty of land around his house to preserve his privacy.”