“I hear a but in your voice.” Nicole stared at Claire.

  “But why did Henry Prior say he saw Peter leaving the building long after Peter had supposedly gone home?” Claire turned to her friend. “No one saw Peter return to the building. No one heard people talking in Leslie’s room. Did Peter come back to Leslie’s apartment or not? It picks at me. Was he there or wasn’t he?”

  “We could ask him straight out,” Nicole said. “We could tell Peter someone saw him leaving the building late at night and ask him for clarification about his whereabouts.”

  Claire nodded. “Let’s see how he reacts ... if he’ll talk to us again.”

  The elevator door opened and they stepped out into the high-ceilinged lobby and headed for the glass doors.

  Claire said, “We should look up the two people Sandra said were close to Peter when he was in the doctoral program. We can find out if they’re still living around here and if they are, see if they’ll talk to us about him.”

  Stepping out into the sunshine, a thought occurred to Claire and she stopped in her tracks and spun around towards her friend.

  “There are four apartments on the floor Leslie lived on,” Claire said.

  “That’s right,” Nicole agreed.

  “Leslie lived in one, Amy Wonder and Jill Lansing lived in another. Henry Prior lived in the third one. Who was living in the fourth apartment? And why hasn’t anyone mentioned that person?”

  18

  When Claire knocked on the door of Marty Wyatt’s spacious condo apartment in Boston’s Back Bay, it took a long time for the man to open the door. Marty looked like he’d aged ten years over the past week and a half and he looked almost as bad as he had when he arrived at Claire’s townhouse unannounced. He wheezed as he led Claire to the living room where they sat side by side in club chairs facing the large windows looking over Boylston Street.

  “We sold our house in Hingham when my wife got sick a few years ago and we moved here to be closer to her doctors, to be near the conveniences of the city,” Marty told Claire. “I’m glad I don’t have to manage the big house we used to own. Everything is easier for me here.”

  After some conversation about living in the city, Claire asked the question she came to discuss. “Who lived in the fourth apartment on Leslie’s floor? We’ve talked about everyone else who lived there at the time of the murder, but no one has mentioned who was in the other apartment.”

  “That apartment turned over at the beginning of the month Leslie was killed. A young man moved in. He was a medical student. He only lived in the building for less than two weeks. He died from a drug overdose a week before Leslie was murdered.”

  “Oh,” Claire said in surprise as little buzzes of anxiety moved through her. “That’s terrible. Had he socialized with the others who lived on the floor?”

  “They all report that the guy was quiet and didn’t seem interested in being friends. He was polite and friendly, but wasn’t around much and had been there such a short time, they hadn’t gotten to know him.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Allen Day. He was a third year medical student. He moved to Cambridge because his girlfriend lived near Harvard Square and he was starting a rotation at the hospital in the city.”

  “A drug overdose?” Claire pondered the man’s cause of death. “He was a doctor. How would he overdose?”

  “Med students have grueling schedules,” Marty said. “Some probably turn to drugs to keep them going.”

  Claire shook her head thinking about the exhausting, stressful training of medical school and how ironic it was to have such an unhealthy environment for people studying for a field designed to manage people’s health.

  “So the person in apartment four can be crossed off the suspect list,” Claire said. “I guess he was never actually on the suspect list since he wasn’t alive on the day Leslie was murdered.” Shifting in her chair, something about the situation tugged at Claire, but she had no idea why. “This person wasn’t friends with Leslie?”

  Marty shook his head. “He was rarely around and had lived in the building only a matter of weeks.”

  “He could have known Leslie before moving in.”

  “It doesn’t seem so,” Marty said. “The people on the floor reported that Leslie introduced herself to him when he was moving in.”

  “Okay, it sounds like there was no previous connection between Allen Day and Leslie. No one new had moved into the apartment before Leslie was killed?”

  “The place was empty. No one had moved in.”

  Claire looked out the window at the bustling street. “We talked to Peter Safer’s ex-wife. She said Leslie’s death dealt Peter a terrible blow that she believes permanently changed him. He chases money obsessively, he wasn’t affectionate, he has trouble with depression.”

  “A violent death can shake people to their core. I didn’t have a relationship with Leslie and I can’t get the murder out of my head. Imagine finding your girlfriend murdered.” Marty gave a shudder. “Peter Safer may focus on money because it’s something he can control, it’s something manageable. That becomes important when things in your life hurtle wildly out of control.”

  “I can understand that,” Claire said softly.

  Marty asked, “Who are you going to talk to next?”

  Feeling that they weren’t making any headway at all on the case, Claire forced herself to sit straighter in her chair and made sure her expression did not give away her negative feelings. “Jill Lansing, Amy’s former roommate. She’s living in New York, but as luck would have it, she’s coming to a conference in Boston in a few days. She’s agreed to meet.”

  “I found Jill easy to talk to. A very pleasant person.” Marty let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, nothing she told me was helpful. She’s an emergency room doctor now. After she got her Ph.D. she went on to medical school.”

  “That’s a great deal of schooling,” Claire said.

  “Jill told me she decided to alter the direction of her career after Leslie died.” Marty said. “She wanted to be of service to others and she thought she could do more good in medicine than in medical anthropology, so she went on to med school.”

  Claire shifted around to better face Marty and spoke with a kind tone to her voice. “I don’t know how helpful it is to interview these people again. We aren’t discovering anything more than when you talked to them. I don’t want to give you false hope about how this is going to end.”

  Marty gave a weak smile. “You know what, Claire? There’s no such thing as false hope. I’m one of those crazy souls who believes in miracles. Don’t give up. I’m not going to.”

  Claire reached over, took the man’s hand, and held it for a few seconds. “We’ll keep plugging along then.”

  Marty offered Claire coffee and when she accepted, he asked her sheepishly if she would mind making it.

  “Of course, I will. You sit and rest.”

  When Claire returned carrying a tray with coffee mugs, cream, sugar, and some cookies Marty instructed her to find in the kitchen cabinet, she set everything on the small table between the chairs.

  “It’s not quite the feast you provided me with the other night,” he told Claire.

  She gave him a smile and said, “You can make dinner for me and Nicole some night when you’re feeling better.”

  “It’s a deal.” Marty took a swallow of his coffee and cradled the mug in his hands while gazing out the window. “One small thing is all it’s going to take to break this case wide open. Maybe we already know the small detail, but we’re overlooking it … or maybe we’re not connecting it to the necessary piece.”

  An uncomfortable tingling sensation ran over Claire’s skin. “I think you’re right. Why do you think the police didn’t give the case the attention it deserved? Why did they seem to bungle so many things?”

  “I’ve spent many hours thinking about that without success.”

  “Your editor told you to drop your investigation into the case?” Claire asked for clarification.

  “He did. The guy was huge. I can still see him sitting behind his desk like an enormous walrus. He didn’t like anyone questioning his authority. What he said, was the way it was.” Marty gave a slight shrug. “I don’t think he was trying to squash the investigation. He just didn’t think there was a story there so he wanted me to move on. He didn’t give a darn what I thought.”

  “What about the police officer you were friendly with?” Claire asked. “Didn’t he tell you that you should back off the case?”

  Marty said, “Again, it wasn’t a conspiracy or anything. The cops gave it the attention they thought it required and that was that. My contact in the department was of the mind that you don’t keep beating a dead horse, otherwise you get a reputation as a nut or a pain in the butt.”

  “You don’t think they were trying to hide something or protect anyone?” Claire asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Marty let out a sigh. “I don’t think the murder was that important to them. A girl got killed. The cops probably chalked it up to a spat with a lover or a boyfriend … in their minds, no dangerous killer was on the loose.”

  Claire’s eyes flashed. “A spat? A young woman is murdered and the cops think of it as a spat to dismiss?”

  “Times were different back then, Claire.” Marty ran his hand over his face. “It bugged the heck out of me. A young woman dead and it seemed that not a lot of effort got put into solving it. The thing has haunted me.” He lifted the mug to his lips and sipped. “A cop made an off-hand comment to me that Leslie was probably mixed up in drugs. He was linking her to the overdose death of the medical student on her floor. I think some officers thought she might have been dealing drugs or was mixed up in drugs somehow and got killed because of her associations.”

  For a few seconds, a wave of dizziness washed over Claire causing her to grasp the arm of her chair. Suddenly, she had a menacing sensation that a dark form was creeping up next to her, but when she whipped her head around, no one was there.

  Of course there’s no one sneaking up on me, she thought. What am I thinking?

  Claire tried to get comfortable in her chair, but a feeling of unease made her jumpy.

  What am I missing? Drugs? The medical student who overdosed? Was there a connection between Leslie and that student that everyone is overlooking? Claire was sure there was a clue attached to the man who lived in that fourth apartment. Allen Day.

  “Did you ever interview anyone who knew Allen Day?” Claire asked.

  “No, I didn’t.” Marty looked at Claire quizzically. “Why would I do that? Allen Day was dead when Leslie was killed. Everyone said Leslie and Allen hardly knew each other.”

  “But, maybe they knew someone in common,” Claire said, her mind racing.

  Her intuition flashed like a red alert burning in her brain.

  19

  Claire and Nicole met Dr. Jill Lansing at a coffee shop in the hotel next to the conference center in the Seaport District. Dr. Lansing was a slim, five foot six, with highlighted, dark chin-length hair and blue eyes.

  She strode energetically across the hotel lobby and extended her hand. “Call me Jill.”

  Inside the coffee shop, they took seats, ordered coffee and tea, and got down to business with Claire and Nicole explaining how they got involved in the case.

  “It’s been so long. I was very surprised to hear from you.” Jill added a bit of cream to her coffee. “I’m also very happy to hear that people are still pursuing answers.”

  “You weren’t in the apartment on the day Peter and Amy found Leslie’s body?” Claire asked.

  “I was at my boyfriend’s place, and really, I’m thankful I wasn’t at the apartment. I was spared seeing the terrible scene.” Jill looked down for a moment. “It was hard enough hearing about the murder.”

  “What was Leslie like?” Nicole asked.

  “You’ve probably heard about Leslie from other people you’ve talked to, and I’ll echo what they most likely said. Leslie was full of energy, smart, hard-working, attractive, optimistic, bubbly. She could be the life of the party.” Jill paused and took in a breath. “But, I’ll tell you a few things you might not have heard. Leslie was also immature in some ways. She loved the attention men gave her. Almost everyone was drawn to her and she ate it up. Sometimes it went to her head.”

  “How do you mean?” Nicole asked.

  “Leslie had an arrogant side. She was the best in many ways, knew it, and flaunted it. I could see her making an enemy. It wasn’t like she was mean or didn’t care about others, that’s not what I’m saying at all. She was caring and kind, but sometimes she let her high spirits get away from her and she could be insufferable … cocky, high and mighty, a know-it-all. She was young. I’m telling you this because someone killed her and there might have been things about Leslie that grated on somebody.” Jill sat up and leaned forward. “And I am in no way blaming Leslie … absolutely not. I just mean, if she rubbed an unstable person the wrong way, well, maybe that person, out of jealousy or rage or because of some other irrational reason, did the unspeakable and took Leslie’s life.” Jill passed her hand over her eyes. “I know it’s such a simple, stupid thing to say, but I couldn’t believe what happened. I couldn’t believe she was gone, her life snuffed out so easily.”

  “After you completed your doctorate, you went into medicine?” Claire asked.

  “I did. When I finished my Ph.D. in medical anthropology, I wanted to use my skills to do something more for people so I decided to apply to medical school. Amazingly, I was accepted and off I went for more schooling.” Jill smiled. “My parents thought I was going to be a perpetual student. They were relieved when I finished and actually got a job.”

  Claire and Nicole chuckled.

  “They must be very proud of you,” Claire told the woman.

  “They’re good people. I’m lucky they were my parents. They’ve always been very supportive. The luck of the draw, I guess. I wouldn’t be who I am without them.”

  “You’re an emergency room physician?” Nicole questioned.

  “I am. It’s a very busy place most days and I get a little bit of everything. Gunshot wounds and knife wounds are a big part of my cases … car accidents, other kinds of accidents, fights, appendicitis, flu, heart problems. Young, old, and everything in between. I have to be a jack-of-all-trades.”

  “The way you describe it, it sounds like you’re very happy in your career,” Claire said.

  “I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

  “What did you think of the people who lived on your floor when you were a grad student?” Nicole asked.

  “Amy was a good person, easy to live with, a nice person. She had a hard time after Leslie’s death … horrible nightmares, insomnia, some depression and anxiety. She had a hard time focusing which impacted her studies. She and her boyfriend went through a hard time. They eventually broke up. Amy almost dropped out of school, but thankfully, she hung in there.”

  “Henry Prior was Amy’s boyfriend,” Nicole said.

  “That’s right. Henry was studying medical anthropology, too. He got his doctorate in that specialty.”

  “You were both in the same field,” Claire noted. “It must have been helpful for both of you to have someone close by who was studying in the same area of interest.”

  Jill gave the two young women a look. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? It wasn’t.” She set down her mug. “Henry was not a team player. He actually made things difficult for me. Once, I caught him about to take a paper I’d written from my desk. He would put me down in front of professors.” Jill shook her head in disgust. “I hid my feelings about Henry from Amy. I acted friendly even though I wanted to wring his neck ninety percent of the time. I was actually thankful when he and Amy broke up.”

  “How did he get along with the others?” Nicole asked.

  “I often wondered if anyone else felt the same as I did. Of course, I would never ask anyone in case I was the only one who thought Henry was a jerk.” Jill pulled her chair a little closer to the table. “Honestly? I think Henry had a thing for Leslie. He tried to be a big shot in front of her, but Leslie always shot him down. She could match him, sass for sass, and I don’t think Henry liked that one bit. I think he wanted Leslie to fall for him.” Jill rolled her eyes. “He was dating Amy, but making eyes at Leslie. I saw him flirting with her more than once.”

  “Did you mention your concerns to Amy?”

  “No way.” Jill’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t getting caught in the middle of that. Amy wasn’t dumb. She could see what Henry was doing and he had no clue we knew he had the hots for Leslie.”

  “How did Henry get along with Peter Safer?” Nicole asked.

  Jill said, “Peter was fairly quiet, pleasant, easy-going. Henry loved to challenge the way people thought. He would try to bait Peter into discussions, but Peter never had any of it. He was always calm and handled Henry well. Henry loved to get firey arguments going just for the sake of it. He loved debate, but only when he could win the debate, otherwise he would get sullen and nasty.”

  “We haven’t heard any of this before,” Nicole said.

  Amy let out a chuckle. “Nobody wants to mention the not-so-great side of people. And no one wants to say anything negative about the dead, gosh no, gloss everything over and make a saint out of the person.” She made eye contact with the two young women across from her. “I’d rather remember the person the way they were … with every one of their bumps and beautiful imperfections, all the shiny good things and the messy not so good things, all wrapped up together to make that person special and unique. Not one of us is perfect, and gosh, how boring the world would be if we were.”

  “Well said.” Claire gave the woman a nod. “We appreciate hearing an unvarnished version of your building-mates.”

 

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