Page 9 of Line of Sight
Play time came later.
The same thought apparently occurred to Gary. “Sure, we can interview Greg and his mom, but there’s still no motive.”
Dan stuck out his chin. “There is. There has to be.” He met Gary’s bemused gaze. “We just haven’t worked it out yet.”
MARIE MCCARTHYlived in the Old Chestnut Hill Historic District, in an enormous house set back from the street. Gray sidings and white paintwork gave it a sophisticated appearance, with french doors and casement windows.
“Did she ever remarry?” Dan asked as they approached the front door.
“Not that I’ve read anywhere.”
“So there’s only her? Sounds like an awful waste of space.” Children’s laughter reached them from around the house, and he smiled. “It also sounds as if she has a houseful.”
The door opened, and a white-haired, smartly dressed woman stood there.
“Detective Mitchell? Mr. Porter? Please, come in.” They stepped into the interior, and she closed the door behind them. “You’ll have to excuse the noise. One of the residents’ children has a birthday today, and it’s mayhem in here. They’re outside in the backyard.”
“Residents?” Gary inquired.
“This house is a refuge for women who’ve suffered domestic abuse, who have nowhere else to go. I have more rooms than I can ever use. My husband bought it shortly after we were married, and I don’t have the heart to sell up and move. Besides, one day it will go to my son, Greg.” Marie gestured across the entrance hall. “Come into the lounge. We won’t be disturbed in there.”
They followed her into an elegant room filled with simple furniture, paintings on every wall, and french doors that looked out over the yard, where at least ten children were playing with balloons. Gary and Dan sat on the leather couch, and she took the armchair next to the fireplace.
Dan gazed at their surroundings. There were framed photos everywhere, and he recognized Owen, Scott, and Greg. The latter was the subject of several family pictures, seated with his wife and two children.
“You said on the phone that you wanted to talk about Scott, because you were reopening the case.” Her clear voice brought his focus back on track. “I must say, I’m confused. Hedied almost twenty-four years ago. Why now? Has something changed? Have you found new evidence?” Her voice rose slightly.
Gary squared his shoulders. “Scott’s death is part of a cold-case investigation, but his is one of several. And while we don’t have any new evidence, we will be trying new avenues of inquiry.”
Marie’s gaze went from Gary to Dan. “I presume that means you.”
He blinked. “You know who I am?”
She nodded. “I read the newspapers like everyone else in Boston. You’ve successfully helped the police, haven’t you?” He gave a nod, and she straightened in her chair. “I never liked the fact that no one was brought to justice for Scott’s murder. Ask your questions.”
Dan leaned back against the cushions. “What was Scott like? What were his interests?”
Marie smiled. “He was only a boy when I met Owen, but he was an adorable child. Everyone loved him, including my own son, Greg. The two of them were inseparable. And as the years went by, he grew into a wonderful young man. The one memory that stands out in my mind? Scott must have been nine or ten at the time. We’d been clothes shopping, and as we walked back to the car, he saw a homeless man by the gates of the park, a dog lying beside him. Scott asked me if we could help him.” Her face tightened. “His generous nature put me to shame. I would have crossed the street to avoid the man, but all Scott saw was someone in need. I asked how he wanted to help. Scott thought about it for a moment, and then his face lit up. He said he was due to receive his allowance later that day from his father, so could he have it then?” She smiled. “How could I refuse? I opened my purse, counted out the bills, and handed them tohim. Scott ran to the gates and gave the homeless man every cent.”
Dan couldn’t help smiling too. “He sounds like he was an amazing young man.”
She nodded. “Owen trusted him—trustedbothof them. By the time they were teenagers, Owen had formed his plan. The boys were to run his companies together when they were older.” A shadow seemed to flit across her face. “Then when Scott was… when Scott died, Greg was there for Owen, and Owen relied upon him.” Marie expelled a breath. “You asked about his interests. When he was a child, they were no different from the interests of other children the same age. But when he reached eighteen, he divided his time between working with his father, learning about the various companies, and working in soup kitchens. His only hobby seemed to be keeping fit. He’d always loved running when he was in high school, and that stayed with him after graduation.”
“Can we go back to the day he died?” Gary asked. “Was there anything different about him?”
She paused for a moment. “I didn’t see him that morning. He was out of the house before I was even awake. Owen saw him, though. He said Scott seemed his usual bright-eyed, bushy-tailed self.” Another smile. “He always was a morning person.”
“Do you still have some of Scott’s possessions?” Dan mentally crossed his fingers.
She frowned. “Possessions?” Then her brow cleared. “Of course. I understand. I’m sure I do. Owen gave away a lot of Scott’s things, but he wouldn’t have given away everything. Let me see what I can find.” She stood and walked out of the room.
Dan rose and went over to gaze at the photos. “Scott was a good-looking kid.” He had a shock of dark brown hair, swept up at the front, and eyes the color of chocolate, warm and deep. His broad smile was very attractive.
He never got the chance to break hearts.
Gary pointed to the family photo of Owen, Marie, Scott, and Greg. “They seemed like a good fit.” He peered at the picture of Greg with his family. “I’ll bet anything you like that she spoils those grandkids.”
Dan laughed. “That’s what grandmothers do. It’s in the Constitution.” He smiled, pointing to a photo of a beaming Greg tossing a little boy into the air. “Now there’s a happy father.”
