Murder at Ford's Theatre - Margaret Truman [36]
“Who killed Nadia?” Judith asked.
“We’re working on that, Mrs. Zarinski.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“A few,” replied Johnson. “Maybe you can help. Did your daughter share with you anything about who she might have been dating, close male friends, things like that?”
“No,” Mr. Zarinski said. “Nadia didn’t talk much about such things.”
“With the murder rate you have here in Washington, Detective Johnson, it could have been anyone who took our daughter’s life,” said Judith Zarinski. “It could have been some drug addict looking for money for a fix.”
“Did your daughter use drugs?” Johnson asked.
“Oh, no,” Morton said.
Typical parent’s response, Johnson thought. “Not my little girl.”
Johnson asked the mother, “Did Nadia confide in you, Mrs. Zarinski, about her romantic life? You know, mother and daughter kind of talk.”
“On occasion. When she visited us in Florida. We hadn’t seen her in more than six months, though.”
“She liked working at the theatre,” said Mr. Zarinski. “She told me that on the phone a few weeks ago.”
“What about her internship with Senator Lerner?”
Johnson asked it of both parents, and noted their reactions. The father winced; the mother met Johnson’s gaze, never blinking. “I suppose you’re getting at those rumors about the senator and Nadia,” she said.
“I have to ask,” Johnson said. “Sorry.”
“They both denied it,” said the mother, “and I certainly believed my daughter when she said there was nothing to it.”
“Sure, I understand,” Johnson said. “She ever mention an old British actor named Sydney Bancroft?”
Morton smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “She said he was a real character, really funny. She told me she thought he was abused at the theatre, not respected. She certainly respected him. That’s what she said.”
“She tell you that he might have made advances toward her?”
“Good heavens, no,” the father responded.
Mrs. Zarinski took the bent cigarette from her purse and stood. “It’s obvious there’s been no real progress in finding Nadia’s killer. We’d like to arrange for Nadia to be flown to Florida for burial.”
“That’ll depend on the medical examiner, Mrs. Zarinski. When there’s been a death under unusual circumstances, we have to keep the body until—”
“Excuse me,” she said, and left the room.
“Please try to understand Judith’s anger, Detective Johnson,” Morton said. “This has been a terrible shock.”
“I know,” said Johnson. “Just another couple of questions, Mr. Zarinski. You paid for your daughter’s college education. Right?”
“Yes.”
“And you continued to pay her rent after she graduated. Right again?”
“That’s right. We encouraged her to accept the internship with Senator Lerner because the experience would be invaluable, even though it didn’t pay anything. I considered it a form of graduate school.”
Johnson decided to not burst the father’s bubble about the internship. Had the daughter deliberately lied, calling it unpaid, in order to continue pocketing money from her parents? It appeared that way.
“One last question, sir. What kind of a person was Nadia?”
“In what way?”
“Adventuresome? Kind of shy and retiring? A loner? Enjoy partying?”
“Nadia wasn’t a loner, Detective. That’s for certain. She loved people. People seemed to gravitate to her. No, Nadia was a real people person.” His eyes became moist, and he wiped at one with the back of his hand. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Mr. Zarinski.” Johnson stood and extended his hand. “Look, you and your wife try and be patient for the next few days. I’ll keep in touch.” He handed the father his card, on which he’d written his home phone number. “Day or night, Mr. Zarinski. Call day or night.”
“Thank you,” the father said, slipping the card into his shirt pocket. “You’ve been very kind.”
“NO HELP FROM THEM, huh?” Klayman said to his partner as they finished their grilled chicken sandwiches.
“No. Nice people. The father looks like he’s confused. I don’t blame him. I kept thinking about my kids and how I’d react if I got a call telling me one of ’em was dead. Probably act more like the mother.