But she is still a mother who has just lost a son, Colin reminded himself.
“I’m sorry to come here under such painful circumstances for you, Mrs. Gardner,” he said when she came to a halt in front of them.
“I already spoke at length to the other detectives. So what I’d like to know,” she said, her voice crisp, “is why you are here, instead of out looking for the murderer of my son.”
Colin had heard that countless times before. It didn’t matter if the victim had been rich or poor, they always wanted to know why the police didn’t instantly, magically know who the killer was.
“Out of respect, ma’am,” he said smoothly. “I knew you would want to personally meet Detective Wilson and myself-I’m Detective Waters-since we’ll be handling the criminal investigation.”
“I see.”
That had slowed her down a bit, he thought with no little satisfaction. But as he expected, she recovered quickly; he imagined it took a great deal to rattle the poised, proud Cecelia Gardner.
“As I told Mayor Jones, I expect quick results. Anything less is unacceptable. I want the person who did this found immediately.”
“As do we, Mrs. Gardner. So the sooner we can get the formalities out of the way, the sooner we can get back on the real case.”
“Formalities?”
“Speaking to the family members.” As she stiffened, he added, “It’s routine, but it has to be done.”
“Ridiculous, you’re wasting precious time.”
“No, Mrs. Gardner.” It was the first time his partner had spoken, but her voice was pleasant and even. “We’re making sure no one can later get the killer off because we didn’t go by the book now.”
Her words seemed to appease Mrs. Gardner. “Very well. Ask your questions,” the older woman said as she ushered them over to the couch and sat down.
“At the risk of sounding like a cliché, where were you last night?” Colin asked, smiling to indicate he knew how ridiculous the idea that she might be involved really was.
“I was at the Windy City fund-raiser,” she replied impatiently. “In front of several hundred friends, I might add.”
“Until what time?”
“Nearly eleven. I arrived home just before midnight. Any of the staff can tell you.”
“And you didn’t go out again?”
“Of course not,” she said impatiently. “I’m nearly eighty years old, young man. I don’t stay out until all hours.”
“Most people I know who are your age wouldn’t even make it until eleven,” Wilson said, sounding genuinely admiring. Mrs. Gardner looked at her consideringly, then nodded as if in acceptance of the compliment. As if it were her due.
“Was any of the rest of the family there?” Colin asked.
“No.”
She didn’t, Colin noticed, offer any explanations of where her other son and her grandson had been. She might cooperate in answering their questions, but she wasn’t going to volunteer anything.
“Is there anyone who might have had reason to want your son dead, Mrs. Gardner?”
The older woman sniffed audibly. “Reason? Some people don’t need a reason. The fact that he was a Gardner engendered envy and malice in some. Anyone in our position is a target of sorts these days.”
It was the oddest combination of arrogance and stark reality, and Colin couldn’t argue with a word of it. Just being a Gardner was enough to attract the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of people. And a malice killing would explain why so much of value had been left behind; if revenge or hatred was the motive, theft would have been secondary.
“Then is there someone who comes to mind? Someone who stands out? Anyone he argued with, or had a business disagreement with?”
“ Franklin didn’t argue.”
“Ever?” Colin didn’t know anyone who never argued.
Cecelia Gardner waved her hand dismissively. “Never seriously. If you’d known him, you’d know that no one would argue with Franklin.”
Because they wouldn’t dare? Colin wondered. What he’d read about the man indicated he’d been a powerhouse, a high-profile international businessman who was at home around the world. The kind of man few others could stand up to.
The kind who could, with the right touch of arrogance and contempt, drive someone to murder?
“What about his son?”
“Stephen?” Cecelia Gardner became instantly tense, and her demeanor changed to a protective fierceness he had to admire. “My grandson is not to be subjected to your interrogation. He is distraught, of course. And he would be of no help. He spends most of his time at school, or here studying. He’s working on his graduate degree.”
Interesting, Colin thought, that she was so forthcoming with all that after we had to pry the rest out of her.
“We’ll need to talk with him anyway, I’m afraid,” he said.
The icy look nearly became a glare. “I’ll see when we’re available.”
“Just Stephen,” Colin said firmly.
“Alone? I don’t think so. His parents are both dead now, so I will stand for them.”
“No, Mrs. Gardner.” The woman blinked, and Colin wondered just how long it had been since anyone had said no to her. “He’s an adult now. We will speak to him alone, here, or at the station, he can choose.”
Cecelia Gardner drew herself up and gave him a stare that was nothing less than insulting. “How dare you?”
“He dares,” Wilson said, unexpectedly speaking for the first time since her comment about the killer getting off, “because your son has been brutally killed, and no one has the right to secrets in a murder investigation. I would think you would want it that way.”
For a moment Mrs. Gardner shifted her stare to the younger woman. Colin stayed silent, watching, but he cheered inwardly when Darien Wilson stared down the imperious woman without faltering. She might just be tougher than she looked.
Amazingly, the older woman gave in first. “You’re quite right. I’m protective of my grandson. I always have been. Too much, Franklin used to say.”
And just why would a kid’s father say that? Colin wondered.
“I will have Stephen call you as soon as he arrives home.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gardner.” His voice was as polite as it had been cool before.
They left shortly thereafter, the only useful bit of information they’d gotten being that Lyle, who also lived in the estate house, was at the Gardner Corporation offices in the business district.
“Impressions?” he asked his partner when they were back in the car.
“One main one, with two possible interpretations.” She hesitated, but he nodded at her to continue. “I didn’t see a single trace of any grief, pain or loss. She was more worried about us talking to her grandson than the death of her own son, which in itself makes me wonder about the grandson.”
“I agree,” Colin said. “What does your impression tell you?”
“That either she truly doesn’t care, which makes her a very sick sort of mother. Or she’s grieving as any mother would, and just hiding it extremely well, which makes me wonder what else she’s hiding.”
“Indeed,” Colin agreed. Maybe she does have the instincts for this, after all, he added silently. “And the brother is doing business as usual at the office? Great family love there, wouldn’t you say?”
“Nobody can tell anyone else how to grieve, but so far I’m not impressed with the Gardner approach.”
“Nor am I.”
“So we go see if the brother is shedding any tears?”
“That we do.”
Lyle Gardner was not, in fact, shedding any tears. It didn’t surprise Darien to find he was, as Waters had said, doing “business as usual.” The secretary who greeted them outside his office was showing more emotion than either Mrs. Gardner had or Lyle Gardner was now.