The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [85]
“It could just as easily have been Miles, or someone else, acting on Hayward’s behalf,” Betsy noted. “Or it could have been someone purporting to be acting on Hayward’s behalf without Hayward knowing it.”
“I can’t quite see Graham dropping the whole thing and just letting Blythe’s killer go without trying to find out who it was. I do believe that he loved Blythe deeply. I think he would have moved heaven and earth to find out who had deprived him of his happily ever after,” Jude said softly.
“We don’t know that he didn’t.” Simon sipped at the iced tea Mrs. Brady had brought in.
“But if he had found out who had killed her, wouldn’t he have done something about it?” Dina frowned. “I mean, he loved this woman and someone killed her, he finds out who it was . . . he was the President, for God’s sake. It just doesn’t make any sense that he wouldn’t have done something about it.”
“Maybe he didn’t know who it was. Or maybe it was someone he couldn’t have retaliated against,” Simon pointed out.
“Who could have had that much power over him?” Dina turned to ask.
A clap of thunder made them all jump.
“Weather report’s been forecasting a big storm this afternoon and evening,” Mrs. Brady announced. “I was wondering if perhaps I could leave after dinner.”
“Go now, before the rain starts, Mrs. Brady,” Betsy told her. “As long as there’s something to cook, between the four of us we should be able to figure things out.”
“There’s chicken in tarragon cream sauce all made up. It only has to be baked. And there’s salad and a strawberry shortcake,” the housekeeper noted. “And I have one of the back guest rooms made up for Mr. Keller, just in case.”
“That was thoughtful of you, thank you. Perhaps we’ll be able to keep Mr. Keller with us for a while.” Betsy smiled. “Now go on home, Mrs. Brady, before the roads start to flood out. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you,” she said, then smiled her good-byes to the guests.
“Okay, my money’s on Celeste Hayward,” Jude said after Mrs. Brady had departed.
“Or one of his kids,” Betsy suggested.
“Or someone very high up who wanted to put an end to Graham’s thoughts of not running for that second term.” Simon threw his thoughts into the mix.
“How old were the kids back then?” asked Dina.
“Graham would have been around nineteen or twenty, Sarah maybe fifteen or sixteen. She was at boarding school,” Simon told them. “And Gray was at college.” He frowned. “At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what Miles said. I can check the tape.”
“What tape?” Dina asked.
“Twice when I met with Miles I taped our conversation,” Simon admitted. “He talked about the night that Blythe came back from Arizona after Dina was born. And about the night that she died—”
“Is that legal?” Betsy raised an eyebrow.
“I only did it for my own use, so that I wouldn’t have to try to take notes. I was afraid that whipping out a pen and notepad would distract Miles. So I recorded what he said thinking that I could just concentrate on what he was saying. Then when I got back home, I typed up my impressions, recollections of his gestures, facial expressions, that sort of thing, so that I wouldn’t forget anything.”
“Where’s the tape now?” Dina asked.
“It’s at my town house, in Arlington. It didn’t occur to me to bring it. I’ll drive back tonight,” Simon told them.
“Wait until the morning, until the storm has passed,” Betsy said. “And in the meantime, we can speculate to our hearts’ content over dinner. Right now, I suggest we move into the kitchen and start cooking.”
Dina was sitting on the bottom step of the grand staircase, a Bloomingdale’s bag at her feet, when Simon came downstairs early the next morning. She was dressed in jeans and a red turtleneck sweater, her hair pulled back from her pale face with combs on either side. A denim jacket sat neatly on her lap.
“I didn’t want to miss you.” Dina looked up through red-rimmed eyes as he descended the stairs. “I didn’t want you to leave without me.”
“Was I taking you with me?” Simon