Page 43 of 4th Silence
“Not a clue, sweetheart,” he says. “Could have been anybody.”
If he had worked for the family for that long, surely he must’ve suspected someone. I switch tactics. “We’re trying to understand what happened the night Tiffany died. Not just the facts listed in the police report but the dynamics, the personalities involved.”
“I saw you on the TV with your mom.” He makes a whirling motion around his temple with a finger. “She’s a crazy ol’ gal, ain’t she?”
She’s been called worse. Doesn’t mean his comment doesn’t annoy me. I sip the bitter coffee in order to hold my tongue.
Mom would be here if it weren’t for the fact that the current number one journalist on YouTube called our office asking for an interview. I don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified that she picked that over Gordy.
Meg chuckles and lays her classic warm, inviting smile on him. “What was Tiffany like?”
His eyes fix on the distance beyond my shoulder. “Don’t like speaking ill of the dead. ’Specially kids. Don’t seem right.”
My gut tightens. That type of disclaimer usually preceded something damning.
“We feel the same way.” Meg gives a sympathetic nod and lowers her voice. “But the truth can’t hurt her now.”
God, she’s good.
Gordy fidgets with his pant leg, brushing away an invisible speck of lint. Or maybe the emotions he’s feeling. “Truth is, she was a bit of a snot. Smart as a whip but mean with it. You know the type? The ones who figure out which buttons to push. That family is full of them.”
Like Phillip, the mean drunk. I nod, keeping my face neutral. “Did you notice anything unusual about her behavior that night? Any notable interactions with the guests?”
He barks a humorless laugh. “Besides taking Alex’s cherished hockey stick and hiding it in the panic room? That was pretty notable.”
Meg locks eyes with me. My pulse spikes. “Tell us about that.”
“Signed by Wayne Gretzky. Gift from his dad. Phillip traveled all the time and brought back outlandish gifts to Alex and Christina to ease his guilt.” Gordy shakes his head. “Tiff waited until everyone was occupied with the party and swiped it from its prized spot in his room. Then told him she’d hidden it in the new panic room.”
Why would he need Gordy to fetch it? “He couldn’t find it?”
“The room wasn’t finished.” Gordy sets his mug down on the side table with a thunk. “State-of-the-art for 1995, but the security panel only worked from the outside at that point. Contractor was coming back after the holidays to finish the interior controls.”
“And?” Meg asks.
Gordy spreads his hands like his point is obvious. “If Alex went in, she could lock him inside.”
A safe room turned trap. “Alex was afraid to go after it.”
Gordy’s eyes darken. “Wouldn’t have been the first time she pulled a stunt like that. She locked the gardener’s kid in the pool house for three hours that August. Boy nearly got heatstroke.”
Meg’s face falls. “That’s awful.”
I remember similar childhood stunts between us, the Wonder Twins. The time she pushed me out of the oak tree in the woods because I broke her favorite paintbrush. Or when I shoved her into a boulder for putting a spider in my hair. She ended up with a knot on her head; I got two months of laundry duty and a deep-seated fear of bugs.
Kid-on-kid bullying isn’t abnormal. “What happened with the hockey stick?”
“Alex came to me all upset. Asked if I’d get it when I was doing my rounds.” Gordy’s expression softens. “Good kid. Didn’t want to tattle to his parents and make a scene at their fancy party. Just wanted his stick back.”
Meg sips her coffee. How does she drink that without gagging? “And you got it for him?”
“Course I did. Part of the job—protecting what matters to the people you’re paid to look after. I’d done the same for Christina and some of the other kids when they needed something and their parents were too busy or too drunk.” His face takes on a wistful pride. “Found the thing propped in the corner and brought it to the boy’s room without anyone being the wiser.”
The panic room. Orbiting the crime, but never quite touching it. “Did you tell the police?” We know he didn’t, or at least I assume so. If Matt’s theory about dirty cops is true, maybe it was expunged.
Gordy stiffens. “Wasn’t asked about it. They wanted to know about security protocols and who had access to which areas inside the house. Not kid drama.”
“You didn’t think it was relevant that Tiffany had demonstrated knowledge of—and interest in—the room near the spot where she later died?”
