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42
Savich said, “Nate and John Clarkson had been friends since they were boys, isn’t that right, Mrs. Stirling?”
Miranda looked toward the fireplace when a big spurt of flame shot up from the stacked logs. She sighed. “Actually, once we were married, I soon came to realize I didn’t know the half of it. It didn’t take long for me to feel like I was married to both men. They were inseparable when John was home from Washington. He and Gemma were always with us, always. I was the last part of a foursome, the very young newcomer. I started to wonder whether Nate married me for the sex and because I looked good on his arm. But he kept saying he loved me, easy enough words to say.
“As for John Clarkson, I liked him, and he liked me. He seemed larger than life like Nate, sexy like Nate, and powerful in Congress, serving on important committees, a really big deal.” She shook her head. “The problem was Gemma. She couldn’t stand me. I thought it was because she’d been close to Lorna, Nate’s first wife, but when I mentioned it to Nate, he said Gemma hadn’t particularly liked Lorna, either, that Lorna never paid her any mind and neither should I. The three of them had such a long, rich history together that it never occurred to him Gemma’s not liking me might change that.
“I suppose Gemma thought I was a gold digger. She was old enough to be my mother, just as both John and Nate could have been my father. When my own mother met Gemma, she pulled me aside and told me it had to be difficult for her, having someone her daughter’s age marrying her husband’s best friend. She told me to be patient but to hold my own. Then my mother, bless her, never said another word.
“Of course, Gemma and Nate were also very close, had been for years, and she was very protective of him. Sure, in front of Nate and John, she’d be civil, but no matter what I tried, complimenting her, asking her advice, nothing worked. She always kept me in my place, always treated me like a little sexpot with fluffy hair.”
Savich said, “When we arrived, you said you thought Nate was murdered. Could you tell us why you believe that?”
“Let me say right away I heard all the rumors about John killing his best friend. After all, didn’t they always fish together? I don’t know who started those rumors, but wondered if it was the woman running against John for his congressional seat. Let me be very clear about this, though: John didn’t murder Nate. That’s ridiculous. They were closer than brothers; they shared most everything.
“Of course, I was the first person the police focused on. It would have been so easy, so convenient for them if I was guilty—the young wife bored with her older husband, wanting his money. But alas for them, I was out of town that day, saying goodbye to my mom. As you know, the police ruled Nate was drunk and fell overboard. He did have alcohol in his blood, and the M.E. decided it was enough to debilitate him, so they ruled accidental drowning. It’s true Nate liked to drink, but he held his liquor well. It never made sense to me he’d be falling-down drunk in the middle of the day by himself. Let me add, the local police owed John a lot of favors—he helped their new police station get funded. They wanted to protect him from those silly rumors in his upcoming election, and I believe that’s the main reason they were so fast to rule accidental death by drowning. I told them Nate said he’d been threatened, probably by a criminal named Showalter, that we’d been planning to leave because of the threat. They looked at Nate’s client list, especially those he failed to get off at trial, but it didn’t lead anywhere.”
Miranda paused, shook her head. “Six months with Nate and then I was a widow, my husband probably murdered, and everything was—just over. It seems like a different life now, and I’m certainly not that young woman anymore.”
Savich said, “Mrs. Stirling, you didn’t know how Nate died, didn’t understand what he’d told you the night before he drowned. You must have spoken to John about it, about the money Nate was expecting to get.”
“Yes. John said he didn’t know anything about it, couldn’t imagine what Nate was talking about. Then he fell apart again and held me close and cried. We cried together. I didn’t ask him again about the money. I wouldn’t have had any right to it anyway.”
Savich sat forward. “But it makes sense to you he was meeting someone about the money the next day and that’s who killed him?”
“Ah, yes, if there was a partner, it had to be John, or at least he’d have known about it. Could the stolen money have come from the government somehow, have something to do with John being on those committees in Congress? I don’t know. I had to let it go, so I did.”
Savich said, “Mrs. Stirling, did you know Rebekah, John and Gemma’s granddaughter?”
“I remember her very well. I saw on the news Rebekah was attacked, last Thursday, wasn’t it? But Congressman Manvers said she was fine and the police were investigating. I hope she is. I don’t suppose you’d tell me if Rebekah is somehow involved in all this?”
“We believe she is, Mrs. Stirling. But what her husband said is true. She’s fine. What do you remember of her?”
“I remember she was with John whenever he could manage it. Her mother, Caitlin, never seemed to mind. In fact, I only met Caitlin a couple of times. But Rebekah, yes, such a pretty little girl, eager, bright, and she had a kind heart, unusual, I think, for a child that young. John was always talking about how smart she was, how she loved the children’s stories he made up about him and Nate and their adventures. I remember thinking more than once that John loved her more than he loved Gemma, more than he loved his own daughter, Caitlin. I remember there was no love lost between Gemma and her daughter, either. I don’t know why, but I thought it odd, since I’ve always been so close to my own mother.
“Rebekah looked quite a bit like Caitlin and a lot like John. And now Rebekah’s all grown up. Imagine, she even married a congressman like her grandfather. I was surprised she married a man so many years her senior, just as I did. I wondered if she felt so comfortable with him because of her grandfather. I saw a wedding photo of her in the Post. She looked striking.”
Sherlock said, “Is that a photo of your husband, Mrs. Stirling?” She nodded toward a framed photo.
“Yes, that’s Frank. I met my prince at a New Year’s Eve party in 2010. Glad to say he keeps my teeth in perfect condition.” She gave them a big grin, showing straight white teeth. “He’s my junior by ten years,” she added, and grinned even bigger.
