“You told me you came here to tell her to get lost. Because of that rude note she sent you about Nick’s wedding.”
Ray nodded. “Well, that’s true insofar as it goes. That’s why I came here. I wanted to tell her that I was tired of being taken advantage of. And I did. I wanted her to know that Ray Gwitkowski is nobody’s patsy. And I told her that, too. I wanted to make her understand—loud and clear—that I was tired of her stringing me along. I did that, too. But I also . . .” He hung his head. “I did something else, too.”
So he wasn’t about to confess that he’d killed Marjorie. Not that night, anyway. Not unless he loaded her body into a car, drove all the way to the cemetery, dragged her into the memorial and up that corkscrew stairway just so he could hurl her off the balcony.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever he told me, it couldn’t come anywhere near murder.
“I never meant for it to happen,” Ray said. “It was just . . . well, you remember, Marjorie and I went into the den to talk. That’s when I was all set to tell her how I was tired of waiting for that get-rich scheme she promised me. I’d had it with her. I would have told her right then and there, too. If you hadn’t knocked over whatever it was you knocked over in here.”
I looked toward the fireplace. The day before, that vase with the long, old-fashioned hat pins in it had been set right next to it. Today, the vase was knocked over and lying on its side about five feet away.
“It was those hat pins,” I told Ray, pointing. “They made a lot of noise when they hit.”
He nodded. “And Marjorie came running. That’s when I had a couple minutes alone there in her den and that’s when . . .” Color shot up his neck, and even the tips of his ears burned red. “I was in there by myself,” Ray said. “And I was waiting for Marjorie to get back and I was just standing there by the desk. And that’s when I saw it.”
“Saw—?”
Before I could even finish my sentence, Ray leapt up off the couch and went into the den. Apparently old people can move pretty fast when they want to. I told myself not to forget it, and just in case he was planning to come back into the living room with some kind of weapon, I got up, too, and edged over to the door.
He was back in a jiffy and he picked his way through the junk on the floor and handed me a—
“Credit card?” I turned it over in my hands.
Ray nodded. “It was on Marjorie’s desk next to her computer along with a printout from an auction site. You know, one of those places that specializes in historical artifacts. You know she was addicted to Garfield memorabilia, and apparently, she always had her eye out for new things. This particular site had an auction in progress. Marjorie had one of their offerings circled. It was a paperweight and the bottom of it was etched with an excerpt of one of President Garfield’s speeches. In Japanese.”
“And she wanted to buy it?” Impossible to understand, but I couldn’t let that distract me. “So you were in the den and Marjorie and I were out here. And you found the credit card and the listing about the paperweight and—”
“And I realized she was going to buy it. The paperweight, I mean. She had underlined the parts of the printout that said what time the auction closed. Exactly eleven fifty-nine that night we were both here.”
“And so Marjorie had her credit card out, all set to get in on the auction at the last minute and scoop up the paperweight.” It was pretty obvious, so I wasn’t exactly happy when Ray shook his head.
“You almost got it right,” he said. “But not exactly. I don’t doubt she was planning on using that credit card to get in on the auction and buy the paperweight. But look at it, Pepper. It’s not hers.”
“Not hers?” I took another look at the credit card and my heart bumped against my ribs.
Ray was right. Marjorie Klinker’s name was nowhere on the card. Somebody named Bernard O’Banyon’s was.
I looked from the card to Ray. “So who’s this Bernard guy?”
He shrugged.
“And why did Marjorie have his credit card?”
Another shrug.
“And do you suppose this has anything to do with her murder?”
This time, he didn’t even bother to shrug, and I couldn’t blame him. I was reaching. We both knew it.
“I want you to know, I never meant to do anything with the card. But there I was with it in my hands. And she was out here lecturing you. That voice of hers, that attitude, it was like a knife inside me, twisting and twisting. It brought up the whole, ugly situation all over again and I . . . well, I can’t say what happened. I guess I went a little crazy.”
Ray was too upset to stand still. He kicked the stolen framed piece of railroad station tile out of the way and paced out the distance to the den and back again.
“This is the first really dishonest thing I’ve done in my whole life,” he said. “And the only explanation I have is that Marjorie made me do it. You see . . .” When he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I took that credit card. Slipped it in my pocket, just like that. Before Marjorie got back in the room. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just really meant it to be a joke, you know? I thought about how Marjorie would go into the den right before that auction was set to close. Then I pictured how she wouldn’t be able to find that credit card, and how she’d be madder than a wet hen. It was cruel, I know, and a cowardly way to get even with her. But I figured she had it coming for all she put me through.”
“So you swiped the credit card. That’s what you were getting all tweaky about when I talked to you at Big Daddy that day. Every time I mentioned money, you looked like you were just about ready to jump out of your skin.”
“I knew you didn’t know I’d taken it. I mean, how could you? But I still felt plenty guilty. I was just going to string Marjorie along. You know, the way she did to me all that time with her promises. I was never planning to use it. In fact, I was just thinking that I’d stop by the memorial the next day and leave the credit card on the desk there where I knew she’d find it. By then, she would have missed the auction and that stupid paperweight she wanted. Would have served her right.”
“And did you?”
Ray’s cheeks got chalky. “You mean, did I stop by the memorial? Or did I use the credit card?”
“Ray!” I closed in on him, flapping the card in his face as I did. “You used it? Somebody else’s credit card? Do you know how incredibly dumb that is?”
“I did. I do. I shouldn’t have, but . . .” He went back over to the couch and collapsed, his head in his hands. “After I left here, all I could think about was the way Marjorie had lied to me all those months. She told me we were going to get rich together, and instead, all she did was lead me on and treat me like a fool. I didn’t start out being angry, just disgusted with myself. But the more I thought about it, the crazier it made me. Finally I was so mad, I couldn’t see straight. And then I thought about the credit card I put in my pocket, and how it would serve her and this Bernard guy right if I got back some of my own. I’d taken Marjorie out for so many dinners, waiting for her to tell me more about how much money we were going to make. So . . .” He sniffed. He coughed. He scraped a finger under his nose. “I went to Ruth’s Chris on the way home and had myself a really nice meal.”
Truth be told, I couldn’t blame him. Even if I never would have had the nerve to do the same thing myself. Instead of admitting it, I went for the obvious questions. “They didn’t flag the card? You got away with it?”
“They never batted an eye. And I spent a lot of money. I don’t get out much these days. Me and Vanessa, we used to go out to dinner once in a while, you know, for special occasions. But then she got sick and the bills started piling up, and . . .” He rubbed his eyes with his fists. “In my whole life, I never enjoyed a steak as much as I did the one I ate that night. Until I got home, that is. I was up all night with indigestion, and it wasn’t the food, I know that. It was my conscience talking, telling me that I didn’t deserve that expensive dinner, that I’d done something I shouldn’t have done. The next morning, I checked the phone book, but I couldn’t find anyone with the name that’s on that credit card. So I did the next best thing. I worked three extra shifts at Big Daddy that week, got the money together, and sent cash to that restaurant, just to make myself feel better. Cost me a bundle, but at least I’ve been able to close my eyes every night.”