Pamela said, “So he had a motive for killing the whole Winthrop family.”
“That’s right. But there’s more,” Dana said. “I talked to a man named Marcel Falcon in France. His only son was killed by a hit-and-run driver. Taylor Winthrop’s chauffeur pleaded guilty, but the chauffeur now claims that Taylor Winthrop was the driver.”
Roger said thoughtfully, “Falcon was on the NATO Commission in Brussels.”
“Right. And the chauffeur told him that it was Taylor Winthrop who killed his son.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Very. Have you ever heard of Vincent Mancino?”
Roger Hudson thought for a moment. “No.”
“He’s Mafia. Taylor Winthrop got his daughter pregnant, sent her to a quack, and she had a botched abortion. The daughter is in a convent and the mother is in a sanitarium.”
“My God.”
“The point is that all three have strong motives for revenge.” Dana sighed in frustration. “But I can’t prove anything.”
Roger looked at Dana thoughtfully. “So Taylor Winthrop was really guilty of doing all those terrible things.”
“There’s no question about it, Roger. I’ve talked to those people. Whichever one of them is behind the murders orchestrated them brilliantly. There are no clues—none. Each murder had a different modus operandi, so there is no obvious pattern. Every detail was carefully worked out. Nothing was left to chance. There was not one witness to any of the deaths.”
Pamela said thoughtfully, “I know this may sound far-fetched, but—is it possible that they’re all in this together to get revenge?”
Dana shook her head. “I don’t believe there was collusion. The men I talked to are very powerful. I think each would want to do it on his own. Only one of them is guilty.”
But which one?
Dana suddenly looked at her watch. “Please excuse me. I promised to take Kemal to McDonald’s for dinner, and if I hurry, I can do it before I go to work.”
“Of course, darling,” said Pamela. “We understand completely. Thank you for stopping by.”
Dana got up to go. “And thank you both for the lovely tea and for your moral support.”
Driving Kemal to school on Monday morning, Dana said, “I’ve missed doing this, but I’m back now.”
“I’m glad.” Kemal yawned.
Dana realized that he had been yawning ever since he had awakened. Dana asked, “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Kemal yawned again.
“What do you do at school?” Dana asked.
“You mean besides horrible history and boring English?”
“Yes.”
“I play soccer.”
“You’re not doing too much, are you, Kemal?”
“Nah.”
She glanced at the frail figure next to her. It seemed to Dana that all the energy had gone out of Kemal. He was unnaturally quiet. Dana wondered if she should have a doctor look at him. Maybe she could check and see if there were some vitamins that would give him energy. She looked at her watch. The meeting for this evening’s broadcast was half an hour away.
The morning went by swiftly, and it felt good to be back in her world. When Dana returned to her office, there was a sealed envelope on her desk with her name on it. She opened it. The letter inside read:
“Miss Evans: I have the information you want. I have made a reservation in your name at the Soyuz Hotel in Moscow. Come immediately. Tell no one about this.”
It was unsigned. Dana read the letter again, unbelievingly. I have the information you want.
Of course it was some kind of trick. If someone in Russia had the answer she was looking for, why hadn’t whoever it was told her about it when she was over there? Dana thought about the meeting she had had with Commissar Sasha Shdanoff and his brother Boris. Boris had seemed anxious to talk to her, and Sasha had kept cutting him off. Dana sat at her desk, thinking. How had the note gotten on her desk? Was she being watched?
I’m going to forget it, Dana decided. She stuffed the letter in her purse. I’ll tear it up when I get home.
Dana spent the evening with Kemal. She had thought he would be fascinated by the new computer game she had bought him in Moscow, but he seemed indifferent. At nine o’clock his eyes started to close.