“Not that I see,” I said.“But if Milton moved the decanter we can’t be sure what else he moved to go along with his suicide theory.”
“Or maybe the killer moved them,” Walt said.“Especially if they were photos of his daughter he didn’t want to get out.”
There was a collective gasp at that theory.
“We also need to look at the part Milton played in this,” Dash said.“Milton’s history speaks for itself.He’d sell his own mother if the price was right.So we can’t know for sure if there were photos or if there were and they were moved just like the whiskey decanter.It makes sense he’d leave a blackmail note.That would be an excellent reason to commit suicide.”
“I wonder if Serena knew about the blackmail,” I said.
“Give her a call and ask,” Dash recommended.
I dialed and put it on speakerphone.It rang four times, and I was starting to think she wasn’t going to pick up.
“Hello?”
“Serena, it’s Mabel McCoy.I’m sorry to call so late, but this couldn’t wait.We’re working on Henry’s case and something came up.”
“What happened?”she asked.
“Do you happen to know if Henry was being blackmailed?”
I heard the gasp on the other end of the line and she said, “Yes, how did you know that?”
“There was a blackmail note on the desk the night he was killed.Do you know the reason he was being blackmailed?”
“Because of me,” she said.“There were pictures of us.I think there was a part of me that was resentful for all the secrecy, even though I knew it had to be done.There was part of me that almost wanted to get caught by my father.Then I wouldn’t have to tell him.So we, but mostly me, got more reckless as time went on.We were in more public places.I wasn’t as careful with public displays of affection as I should have been.”
“You saw the photos?”I asked.“You know for sure they existed?”
“Yes,” she said.“Henry showed them to me.”
“How long was he being blackmailed?”
“Not long,” she said.“He’d only received two notes with pictures as far as I know.He wasn’t going to pay at all, but I convinced him to.I was too afraid of the pictures being sent to my father.”
“Was that the threat?”I asked.
“Yes, and that they’d be published in the newspaper.It would have been a huge scandal, especially if those pictures leaked.I never would have been able to get a teaching job.Times were different then.”
“You were that afraid of your father?”I asked her.“But you don’t think he could have killed Henry.”
She let out a long breath.“It’s hard to make people understand.He was a dominating man.A perfectionist in every way.It’s what made him an exceptional surgeon and a terrible human being.I think he put me on a bit of a pedestal after my mother died.He had expectations for me, and I tried to live up to them because the alternative was to hear his wrath and disappointment.I’d been conditioned not to buck the system.But falling in love with Henry gave me the first hope of freedom I’d ever experienced.So I know my father would have been angry.He’d have tried to destroy Henry, either professionally or financially.And he’d have tried to punish me by cutting me off from my trust fund or the friends and relationships I’d developed over the years.He would’ve tried to isolate me until I was begging to come back.But he would not have physically harmed me or Henry.That wasn’t who he was.”
“Did Henry push back on paying the blackmail?”
“He didn’t want to pay it,” she said softly.“He knew he wanted to marry me.And he knew once we were married any scandal would eventually blow over.But I was only twenty-two.I had no experience with that world, or having the world know what you were doing in your bedroom.It was overwhelming.So I begged him to pay and he did.The first time.
“Payment was to be made on Saturday at ten o’clock in the morning.I went with him that first time to make the drop at St.Michael’s.I waited in the car while he went inside and taped it underneath one of the pews.I can’t remember which one.It was two thousand dollars in cash.He wasn’t inside very long, and then he came back out and we waited in the car for a bit to see if anyone suspicious went inside.But the church was open for guided tours and visitors, so it was crowded.”
“Did he know who it was?”I asked.
“No, but he had his suspicions.He said something about the way the notes were worded was familiar.And that they knew intimate details of his life.He felt it was someone he knew well.”
“I appreciate your time,” I told her.“This was very helpful.”
When we disconnected I said, “Why didn’t she tell us he was being blackmailed when we went to talk with her yesterday?”
“I told you,” Dash said.“Everyone lies.Even when they’re innocent.No one wants to be seen in the light of the honest truth.”
