Robertson countered. “Preferably this morning.”
“We’ll see,” DiSalvo said.
Robertson glared at the lawyer, and then turned to Sally. “I’ll see you down at the jail, later this morning, Miss Favor. Don’t forget,” he added, and stood up. “Better yet, we’ll all go in together.”
“It’s Saturday,” Sally complained.
Robertson didn’t answer her. Pouting, she got up and headed for the stairs to the second floor.
“No, you don’t, young lady,” Robertson said.
“I need to change,” Sally said wearily.
“You sit here and drink coffee,” Robertson said. “I’ve got a lot of house to go through, and I’ll let you know when you can get back up to your bedroom.”
“Just what do you expect me to do for clothes, Sheriff?”
“Your room is being used to question Jenny Radcliffe.”
“Jenny had nothing to do with this,” Sally said.
“Then you won’t mind if I talk with her next,” Robertson countered.
BEFORE the interview with Jenny Radcliffe, Professor Branden stepped into the pantry adjoining the kitchen and used his cell phone to call Evelyn Carson’s office. He inquired first about Martha Lehman, learned there had been little change, and then said, “Call Cal Troyer, Caroline. She’s been attending his church lately.”
“Let me try to ask her about that,” Caroline said, and muted the phone. Back on, she said, “I still get no reaction, Michael.”
Branden frowned and scratched nervously at the back of his head. “I still don’t know what we’ve got out here at the Favors’ place. Isn’t she talking at all?”
“She’s come around some. Recognizes where she is, I think, but she is definitely not talking.”
“Does she nod her head? Anything like that?”
“She just stares at Evelyn. Tracks her with her eyes, wherever she goes.”
11
Saturday, November 2 8:35 A.M.
BRANDEN followed Robertson up the rear staircase to the second-floor vestibule at the back of the house. At the west end, Robertson turned left and opened a door to Sally Favor’s bedroom. Inside, Branden and Robertson found Jenny Radcliffe seated on the edge of a four-poster bed, wearing blue silk pajamas, and wrapped at the waist in an ornate Amish comforter. Daniel Bliss stood beside her, offering coffee on a silver tray with a delicate porcelain creamer and sugar jar. Bliss looked sideways at the sheriff, and stayed bent at the waist, while Jenny lifted a cup and saucer with trembling fingers. When he straightened up, Bliss said, “Don’t worry. I’m going back downstairs now, Sheriff.”
A deputy had been standing inside the door, and to him Robertson said, “Deputy, escort Mr. Bliss to the kitchen, and see that he stays there.”
Daniel left with an unflustered slowness, the deputy following.
Robertson took to pacing a small circle on the carpet in front of Jenny’s bed and signaled with a sweep of his eyes that Branden should have a look around the room. Without touching anything, Branden studied a low vanity strewn with champagne bottles and cigarette butts in several ashtrays. He pointed out two small, blackened pipes to Robertson and then opened a door opposite to the one they had entered. This let out into a hallway, and directly across was an opened door to the master bedroom. Branden nodded across the hall to Coroner Melissa Taggert, who was bent over at the head of the bed, examining the back of Juliet Favor’s skull.
Robertson pulled up a small metal makeup chair from the vanity, turned it backward in front of Jenny, and straddled it. He watched her blow on her coffee and asked, “What can you tell me about last night?”
Radcliffe said nothing. She brushed curly brown hair out of her eyes and sipped coffee, gazing morosely down.
“There must have been a lot of blood, Jenny,” Robertson said. “We’re gonna find out how you two cleaned it all up.”
Nothing from Radcliffe.
“You did a poor job of it, anyways,” Robertson continued. “There were obvious
“We’ll see,” DiSalvo said.
Robertson glared at the lawyer, and then turned to Sally. “I’ll see you down at the jail, later this morning, Miss Favor. Don’t forget,” he added, and stood up. “Better yet, we’ll all go in together.”
“It’s Saturday,” Sally complained.
Robertson didn’t answer her. Pouting, she got up and headed for the stairs to the second floor.
“No, you don’t, young lady,” Robertson said.
“I need to change,” Sally said wearily.
“You sit here and drink coffee,” Robertson said. “I’ve got a lot of house to go through, and I’ll let you know when you can get back up to your bedroom.”
“Just what do you expect me to do for clothes, Sheriff?”
“Your room is being used to question Jenny Radcliffe.”
“Jenny had nothing to do with this,” Sally said.
“Then you won’t mind if I talk with her next,” Robertson countered.
BEFORE the interview with Jenny Radcliffe, Professor Branden stepped into the pantry adjoining the kitchen and used his cell phone to call Evelyn Carson’s office. He inquired first about Martha Lehman, learned there had been little change, and then said, “Call Cal Troyer, Caroline. She’s been attending his church lately.”
“Let me try to ask her about that,” Caroline said, and muted the phone. Back on, she said, “I still get no reaction, Michael.”
Branden frowned and scratched nervously at the back of his head. “I still don’t know what we’ve got out here at the Favors’ place. Isn’t she talking at all?”
“She’s come around some. Recognizes where she is, I think, but she is definitely not talking.”
“Does she nod her head? Anything like that?”
“She just stares at Evelyn. Tracks her with her eyes, wherever she goes.”
11
Saturday, November 2 8:35 A.M.
BRANDEN followed Robertson up the rear staircase to the second-floor vestibule at the back of the house. At the west end, Robertson turned left and opened a door to Sally Favor’s bedroom. Inside, Branden and Robertson found Jenny Radcliffe seated on the edge of a four-poster bed, wearing blue silk pajamas, and wrapped at the waist in an ornate Amish comforter. Daniel Bliss stood beside her, offering coffee on a silver tray with a delicate porcelain creamer and sugar jar. Bliss looked sideways at the sheriff, and stayed bent at the waist, while Jenny lifted a cup and saucer with trembling fingers. When he straightened up, Bliss said, “Don’t worry. I’m going back downstairs now, Sheriff.”
A deputy had been standing inside the door, and to him Robertson said, “Deputy, escort Mr. Bliss to the kitchen, and see that he stays there.”
Daniel left with an unflustered slowness, the deputy following.
Robertson took to pacing a small circle on the carpet in front of Jenny’s bed and signaled with a sweep of his eyes that Branden should have a look around the room. Without touching anything, Branden studied a low vanity strewn with champagne bottles and cigarette butts in several ashtrays. He pointed out two small, blackened pipes to Robertson and then opened a door opposite to the one they had entered. This let out into a hallway, and directly across was an opened door to the master bedroom. Branden nodded across the hall to Coroner Melissa Taggert, who was bent over at the head of the bed, examining the back of Juliet Favor’s skull.
Robertson pulled up a small metal makeup chair from the vanity, turned it backward in front of Jenny, and straddled it. He watched her blow on her coffee and asked, “What can you tell me about last night?”
Radcliffe said nothing. She brushed curly brown hair out of her eyes and sipped coffee, gazing morosely down.
“There must have been a lot of blood, Jenny,” Robertson said. “We’re gonna find out how you two cleaned it all up.”
Nothing from Radcliffe.
“You did a poor job of it, anyways,” Robertson continued. “There were obvious
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