Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [72]
Alex nodded, following Stan once again into his study. "We did. He basically confirmed what you suggested, that my father was murdered."
"I'm sorry, Alex. Do you want to sit down? Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, thanks." Alex paused. "There's something that's been bothering me since I left Brady."
"What's that?"
"He said you were friends with Sarah, that you got her the job with the theater company, and that you, in fact, were one of the primary players in setting up the whole trip. He also said it wasn't the first time you were involved in a cultural exchange between our countries. Why didn't you mention that when Julia and I were here on Sunday?"
Stan frowned, his lips drawing into a tight, irritated line. "Brady shouldn't have told you that."
"Because it isn't true, or because you didn't want us to know? You told Julia and me that you'd only met Sarah twice. That was a lie."
"There weren't many more meetings than that," Stan said. "My involvement with Sarah was limited. Charles told me she was excellent with a needle and thread. The group needed several costumers, so she was recommended for the trip." "What about the exchange itself?" "I made a couple of calls."
Alex suspected it was more than a couple of calls. Stan was being far too evasive. "Were you in Russia with my father?"
Stan walked around the desk by the window and sat down, putting up a barrier between them. He pressed his fingertips together, then said, "No, of course not."
The words were delivered in a firm, steady tone, no hint of a lie. Alex had no reason not to believe Stan, but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he hadn't asked exactly the right question. Still, Stan had been his father's closest friend, and even after his dad's death, he had kept in touch. He'd made the effort to come to Alex's games, his high school graduation. Stan had helped him get his first camera, his first job. Alex had never believed they had anything but a completely honest relationship. Now because of a few small details, he had doubts.
Alex sat down in the chair in front of the desk. He picked up a pen and twisted it between his fingers. "Tell me more about your connection to the theater group."
Stan tilted his head to one side. "I made a few calls with government officials that facilitated the exchange. I did it for Charles. He was the driving force behind the entire effort. He obviously had another agenda besides photographing the event."
"Which you must have known at the time."
"I suspected," Stan admitted, "but I didn't ask questions."
"You should have. What about Sarah?" he continued. "Did she have Julia with her when she went to Russia? Because it's becoming very clear that Julia is that girl in the photo."
Stan shrugged. "I didn't know anything about Julia. I have no idea why she was in that orphanage, if she is in fact that girl. I do know the photo was a problem for Charles. He didn't tell me why, except that he was furious it had been printed without his knowledge. I already told you that, Alex."
"How could you not know if Julia was with Sarah? Brady said you were friends with both of them. And you must have helped the performers acquire papers for their travel."
"That wasn't my job. And Brady is mistaken. I wasn't friends with Sarah. Charles was. Everything that involved her was done through him."
"What about this theater group? Can you put me in touch with anyone who was on that trip with my dad and Sarah?"
Stan's mouth turned down in a displeased frown. "Alex, please, just drop it already."
"That's not going to happen, especially now that I know my father was murdered to keep him silent about something. He might have lost his voice, but I haven't. And I'll speak for him when I know the truth."
"That kind of reckless behavior could get you silenced as well."
"I'll take that chance."
Stan shook his head. "You're just as crazy as your father. He always thought he could beat the odds, too, but look