The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 6-10 - Catherine Coulter [619]
Ruth looked puzzled. “It is a little hard to understand. Why, if you feel as you do about him, do you want to work for your father, and continue to live in the same small town?”
Professor Marian Gillespie didn’t act defensive. What she did was give them all a big smile. “I told you, Agent Warnecki, I’m pathetic. To balance it all out, there’s a love pool of nice young men here.”
“What became of your mother, Professor?” Sherlock asked, steering the subject back.
“Please, call me Marian.”
Sherlock nodded.
“My mother? Oh, Dad divorced her when I was a baby. After that, she left and I never heard from her again. From then on it was only Dad and me.”
“Do you know where she lives?” Dix asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe Uncle Chappy knows, but I wouldn’t count on him to tell you anything close to the truth. All I remember is Uncle Chappy didn’t like my mother. I guess my dad didn’t either, since he divorced her.”
Savich said abruptly, “Did you know your father was sleeping with Erin Bushnell?”
She was shocked and clearly appalled. She was either a remarkable actress or this really was news to her. “That’s a stupid lie.” She jumped to her feet, her palms flat on the table. “Why would you say such a thing? It’s ridiculous. Sure he slept with Helen, but she was closer to his age. A student? Erin Bushnell? No way.”
Savich said, “It’s true, Marian. Ginger Stanford knew about it, and so did Helen Rafferty.”
“Helen told you that? Are you sure, Dix? Erin was much younger than I am, for goodness sake. She’s Sam’s age. No, I can’t accept that, I simply can’t.”
“You’re going to have to accept it,” Dix said. “Helen told us everything. What I find interesting is that you knew all about your father’s affair with Helen Rafferty, but you didn’t know about Erin Bushnell.”
Marian slowly shook her head. “Not a clue. On the other hand, I doubt my dad knows about Sam Moraga. But for heaven’s sake, he’s my father!”
Dix said, “Sam Moraga was really upset about Helen’s murder, more so than I thought a student would be about the death of an administrative assistant. Why?”
She shrugged. “Maybe he thought of her as his mother, too, I don’t know. We never spoke about her. Actually, it was Helen who introduced Sam to me. He was in one of my music theory classes, but I hadn’t really paid much attention to him. Then at one of those interminable professor and student get-togethers my father insists on throwing every couple of months, she introduced us.”
“Does anyone know about Sam?”
She shook her head at Dix, worried at a fingernail. “We’re discreet.” She finished her tea. “If Sam hadn’t been at my house, you wouldn’t have known I was anything but the celibate everyone believes me to be. There were a couple of others before Sam, both of them out in the world now. My father called me a shriveled-up prude last year. I remember I’d gotten only two hours’ sleep the night before, so I simply laughed at him. He couldn’t understand that laugh and I didn’t enlighten him.” Her voice turned bitter and low. “Maybe I should have told him. It looks like we could have compared notes. We make quite a pair, don’t we?”
Dix saw the tears in her eyes, and waited for her to recover. He’d known her since he and Christie got married, and yet . . . He shook his head. Who ever really knew what another person was about?
Marian looked at the rest of them, her lips twisted at their carefully expressionless faces. “Were there others? Others besides Erin Bushnell?”
Dix said, “You need to talk to your father about that, Marian. We’re going over to see him now. If you think of anything else, give me a call right away. I’ve got the same cell number.”
“Is there some sort of serial killer on the loose here, Dix?”
“What we’re thinking is that whoever tried to kill Ruth probably killed Erin Bushnell, and that opened Pandora’s box. He may be trying to do damage control.”
“But why Helen? Does that make any sense to you?”