The Starry Night of Death Read online

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You are an officer of the court yourself, Mr. Spring.”

  “I just do estates. I’ve never done criminal cases.”

  “Nonetheless, you understand the gravity of the situation.”

  “I’m the one who’s locked up, Mr. Edwards. I most certainly understand.”

  “Very good. Now I am going to ask you to narrate the story of what happened the night of your wife’s death. Include all you can. A tiny detail may be a giant clue. Don’t be ashamed of any behavior you may have engaged in that night. We’re not here to judge you. We’re here to get you out of jail. Mr. Ryle is a very clever young man, as I can personally attest. Perhaps he will even be able to find the person who murdered your wife. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then please begin.”

  “It was some time after dinner. We had steak and potatoes. The steak was underdone. I...”

  “Move along, please, Mr. Spring.”

  “I’m sorry. Anyway, it was after dinner. My wife was reading. She enjoys these romances. I find them intolerable. I...”

  Edwards cleared his throat. It was enough of a prompt.

  “Oh, yes. I decided the evening was such that I wanted to take a walk. The night sky was brightened by a million stars. I don’t of course know the actual number, but it was a very starry night. I recall smoking a cigar. My wife doesn’t like me to smoke in the house, so I go outside when I want one.”

  “What were you doing outside besides smoking?” I asked.

  “Thinking, I suppose.”

  “And what were you thinking about, Mr. Spring?”

  “Work. A particular case in fact.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Or talk to you?”

  “No.”

  Mr. Edwards held up his hand. “We understand. It was a starry night and you were all alone. Now please get to the dramatic moment.”

  “I had been outside for at least twenty minutes. The air was pleasant. Not too warm and not too cold.”

  “And that’s when you heard it?” Edwards asked.

  “Yes, sir. It was a loud shot. We do keep a weapon in the house, but she was very frightened of weapons. She never went near it.”

  “So when you heard the shot, Mr. Spring, what did you do?”

  “Why I did what any normal man would do, Mr. Edwards. I rushed back into the house. I searched around and found my wife’s body on the kitchen floor. I reached down and checked for a pulse. She was dead.”

  “Did you notice anything around her, Mr. Spring?”

  He was quiet for a moment and put his head down.

  “There was a .38 automatic on the floor next to my wife’s body.”

  “Was she holding it?” I stared at Spring.

  “No, sir.”

  “Could she have been holding it and then let it go?

  Spring stood up and walked to the front of his cell. “Mr. Ryle, you are implying that my wife shot herself. That is impossible. We had a happy marriage. She was quite content. I resent what you suggest, Mr. Ryle.”

  Edwards put up a hand.

  “Did you recognize the weapon, Mr. Spring?”

  “I...” He stopped for a few seconds, getting back some control over his voice. Then he started again. “The weapon is mine. But I keep it in my office for protection. I have many sensitive papers.”

  “Have you ever fired it, Mr. Spring?” Edwards asked.

  “Of course. Target practice. Just to stay sharp. I did, just the afternoon of my wife’s murder. But the weapon was left in the office. I went back and I...Oh, my God.”

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Spring?”

  “I don’t think I took it from the glove compartment and put it back in the office.”

  “Was your car broken into?”

  He put his head in his hand. “I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you gentlemen with my stupidity. I kept the driver’s side front door unlocked so I could get in the car quickly.”

  “So literally anyone could have taken the weapon?”

  “Yes. I can’t believe I was so negligent. I do have an idea. You should check with my paralegal, Joni Burns. She was in the office. She’d know whether I returned the weapon to the office that afternoon. But at any rate, my firing the weapon then is of no importance.”

  He wasn’t kidding. He really wasn’t a criminal lawyer. The police would have checked him for gun shot residue, and they would have found some on his shooting hand. They found the weapon he admitted he owned by his wife’s body. He had touched the body. No one else was in the house. In the old days he’d already be swinging from a rope.

  “Mr. Spring, before the gunshot, had you heard noises from any kind coming from the house, say someone coming in from the outside?”

  “I wouldn’t have heard such a noise. The distance was too far. But at any rate I did not hear any sounds at all.”

  “Did your wife mention that she was expecting anyone?”

  He shook his head. The reality had penetrated his mind.

  “Does your wife keep a schedule book?”

  “No. You’re asking if perhaps she was expecting someone and had written that down somewhere.”

  “I am.”

  “She remembers all that. The woman doesn’t need a shopping list. She knows what we need. I...I’m in trouble, aren’t I, Mr. Edwards?”

  “Mr. Spring, most lawyers who defend people on trial for murder don’t want to know if the defendant did it. The lawyer doesn’t want to suborn what he knows is perjury, for example. I don’t work like that. I want the straight-up facts. So please answer me simply and directly, Mr. Spring, in the presence of Mr. Ryle. Did you or did you not shoot your wife in the kitchen that night and in so doing cause her death?”

  Spring’s jaw dropped.

  “I most certainly did not shoot her, Mr. Edwards. I loved her. It wasn’t a perfect marriage. I confess that. I was a bit demanding at times. But I would never harm her. You must believe that I am innocent.”

  Edwards nodded.

  “Mr. Ryle, do you have any questions?”

  I nodded.

  “Mr. Spring, let’s play the most important game of your life. Let’s say I believe you. You didn’t kill your wife. But someone did. I want you to think of anyone who might have had any kind of motive to do so. Maybe the person didn’t like your wife. Or maybe the person wanted to frame you for the murder and for whatever reason get rid of you. Excuse me, but maybe the person and your wife were more than friends. I’m warning you, sir. Don’t hold back. It may mean your life or your freedom. Don’t worry about naming the innocent. The innocent have nothing to worry about from me. But I want to know the universe of suspects. Do you understand me?”

  He gulped. “I guess so. That’s very difficult. If I may say so, Mr. Ryle, that crack about my wife knowing someone who was more than a friend was out of bounds. It was disgusting.”

  “This isn’t the time for either of us to censor ourselves. Think and talk. I’m listening.”

  “I’m not good at this. Saying someone might be a murderer.”

  “And yet that’s just what you have to do, Mr. Spring.”

  “I’m glad I’m not a criminal lawyer. I don’t like this at all.”

  “Come on, who would benefit if you went to jail?”

  “I suppose Buzzy Young, my partner in the law firm, would benefit. He’d make more money. But Buzzy is a friend and a nice man. I...”

  “Mr. Spring. It’s not your job to defend anyone. You just have to name them. You understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have a father. Is he wealthy?”

  “Quite.”

  “Is he well?”

  “No, very sick. Why do you...?”

  “Who inherits besides you if he dies?”

  “My brother, but you can’t seriously consider Arnie a suspect.”

  “Is he well off?”

/>   “No, not particularly. I don’t want to talk about him. He’s...he’s in a special home. He’s not on your suspect list.”

  “All right, Mr. Spring, anyone else?”

  “No. I can’t think like this.”

  “Have you had a fight with anyone recently, Mr. Spring?”

  “A fight? Do I look as though I fight?”

  “I don’t mean a physical fight. I mean an argument, a disagreement.”

  “I guess with Lou Nelson, next door. He wants to add an addition to his house and I went before the Town Zoning Board to complain that it would block my view. It’s not resolved yet. But you don’t seriously think he would commit murder because I blocked him from building an addition?”

  “No,” I said. “But he might do it out of anger and rage.”

  Spring looked like a defeated man.

  Don Edwards stood up. “Thank you, Mr. Spring. Mr. Ryle and I are going into the office now to discuss this. Then we will begin to investigate.”

  We sat at the desk in the office and deliberately kept our voices low. I didn’t think there was a chance that Spring could hear us, but we needed to be blunt with each other, and so neither Edwards nor I wished Spring to know what we were saying.

  “What do you think, Mr. Ryle?”

  “I think he’d mostly make a good witness if you could get him to answer the questions and not wander. He looks sincere. He sounds sincere. But.”

  “But what?”

  “I imagine if you poke into the marriage there will be more problems than he’s letting on. He keeps a weapon and practices using it. Right now there isn’t a plausible explanation of why that weapon was in the house. If she has GSR on her hand it will help, but I’m guessing, judging by what Spring said about her aversion to weapons, that there will be no gun shot residue. That will rule out suicide. I’m guessing right now she didn’t shoot herself. And if that is the case, it’s not like there are twenty suspects behind the sofa.”

  Edwards nodded.

  “Should we take a plea? Manslaughter perhaps?”

  “I don’t think he did it, Mr. Edwards. Unless he did and repressed it because he couldn’t face it. Unless he’s a talented actor. Unless. Unless. Unless.”

  “You will take this case?”

  “I’m not sure there’s much of a case to take. I have to check with my employer, but, yes, he seems like a good man to me. I’ll look into it for a while at least. But let me be clear. If my employer explicitly tells me not to do so for whatever reason, then I won’t.”

  Edwards nodded and thought for a few seconds. “I don’t understand the motives of a killer. That’s strange for a criminal attorney to admit. I’ve defended quite a few of them, Mr. Ryle, and they very often admitted it. Mostly it was for money. Or love. Or out of anger. Or jealousy. Some big emotion. I tend to agree with you. Mr. Spring doesn’t seem the excitable and emotional type to me.”

  He hesitated.

  “May I make a suggestion that you may be uncomfortable with?”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Edwards. I’ve already planned to speak with my father about this. I’m seeing him later on a family matter anyway.”

  “Say what you want about him, Mr. Ryle, but no one understands a murder as much as a professional does.”

  “Or as his children do.”

  I walked out into the sunshine. Edwards was waiting for the jailer to return.

  I always had some fear churning in my stomach when I was about to see my father.

  I felt it strongly as I drove home and met my sister. Then I got back in my car and headed out to Sag Harbor to see him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Marlene and I drove separately. She almost decided not to go. I was puzzled about why she had come in the first place. At first she said it was to visit me, but I had flown out to visit her seven months ago. Then she said she wanted to see Dad before the inevitable happened. But he’s in fairly good health. He is older now, but not locked up in some nursing home, from which, I was positive, he would escape one evening.

  We had agreed to stop in Bridgehampton. She said she needed some coffee to prepare for the meeting. Marlene and our brother hadn’t seen my father in many years, and she at least seemed torn about seeing him now. There was a bakery near where we got coffee. I had planned to get a chocolate cake, which my father enjoyed. He said age systematically robbed him of many pleasures. He couldn’t travel very far, for example. But he still enjoyed a variety of foods, none of which were good for him. It was their very danger to his health that he seemed to find attractive. The sugar in the chocolate cake was a treat he particularly liked.

  Marlene and I sat and drank the coffee. The heat it generated in my throat and its pleasant flavor were very satisfying.

  “I don’t know if I can go,” she said after a few sips.

  “You don’t need to if you really can’t.”

  “But I have to, Danny. I just have to.”

  I emitted a caring sigh. “You know I agree. But not at the cost of your sanity. Tell, me Marlene. What’s the matter?”

  She looked down.

  “I need money.”

  “I can give you some.”

  “Can you give me twenty-five thousand dollars?”

  I’m rarely involuntarily silent. I was then.

  It took another sip of the coffee.

  “You’re right, Marlene. I don’t have that kind of money. Why do you need it?”

  “My dear husband.”

  I considered that. As far as I knew he wasn’t a gambler. He didn’t toss away money in any way.

  “What about him?”

  “He was injured on the job. He...he fell off a roof.”

  “My God. Is he all right?”

  “That depends on what you mean. There were doctors’ bills. There was no income. I’ve taken a job in a store for children’s clothes. We barely get by.”

  There was another pause. Whatever it was that she didn’t want to tell me was standing by ready to jump out of her mouth.

  “The bank we go to wouldn’t loan us any money. We haven’t paid off the mortgage. Not by a long shot. We can get by month to month now except for one matter.”

  “You’re in debt to someone.”

  “A not very nice man. We were desperate, Danny. It was a matter of survival. He didn’t lie about the interest we would owe. I just ignored it.”

  I don’t know why, but that’s when she cried.

  I patted her hand and waited.

  “We have two more weeks before...”

  “Before what, Marlene?”

  “He said he would hurt someone in the family, Danny. He didn’t rule out the children.”

  Sobbing now. Some of the other customers looked at Marlene. Then she calmed down.

  “You know what he said he’d do, Danny?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “He said he’d throw acid in someone’s face. He said the acid would make the person so hideous that little children would look and run away.”

  “I wondered why you finally decided to visit. Now I know. Dad will give you the money.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. And maybe he doesn’t have it. Or maybe he has it and wants to punish me for not talking to him for all those years. Or maybe he’ll only give it to me if he can move in with my family.”

  I thought, “Or maybe he’ll kill the guy who lent you the money,” but I didn’t say it aloud. If I had, that possibility would have made Marlene flee.

  I sat there thinking whether or not there were alternatives to my father. Maybe I could borrow the money. I wasn’t sure.

  We finished. I bought the cake, and we drove into Sag Harbor.

  My father was in the back yard, his legs stretched out on a chair. He was reading a book. He looked up as he heard us. He placed the open book carefully across his lap.

  “Thank you for coming to see me, Marlene. Danny, it is always nice to see you. If you give me about an hour, I’ll stand up.”

  We smiled. It did take him a minute to get out of the
chair. He looked as though he wanted to hug Marlene, but she took a half-step back as if telling him a hug was not possible.

  My father invited us inside. I put the chocolate cake on the kitchen table and we sat down in the living room.

  “I mean it, Marlene. I’ve missed you and your family so much.”

  She was having trouble talking.

  “What were you reading, Dad?”

  I needed to get the conversation away from the family for a few seconds to let both my father and Marlene adjust to her presence.

  “I’ve always admired Van Gogh and so I decided to read about him. A biography. A collection of his paintings. There are many I like, but of course The Starry Night is my favorite. I used to travel in to the Museum of Modern Art to see it, but such travels are more taxing. I try to go into the City when I can, but the Hudson River seems to be as far as I can get in life now.”

  Marlene was looking down, so he continued. “Did you know The Starry Night was painted while Van Gogh was in an asylum? He stared out the window. I’m sure the painting doesn’t literally depict what he saw, but what he thought would be there, maybe what should be there. I plan to read many more books about him.”

  My father sat in silence. I tried to talk, but I couldn’t decide what to say.

  Finally, my father said, “Marlene, please bring me up to date. Tell me how you’ve been.”

  If there was any line bound to produce tears, that was it. And as predictably as the seasons, Marlene began to weep.

  My father was patient. It seems strange to say this about a professional killer. But my memory was that he was a good father. He told us stories. He sneaked candy to us when my mother wasn’t looking. He sat with us when we were sick. He knew at that moment not to push.

  Marlene recovered and said, “Dad, I’m sorry. It was a mistake to come here. I was hoping I had changed. I don’t expect you to. I don’t ask you to do so. I just thought I could be more accepting. I thought I could be a more understanding daughter. But I just can’t. I’m sorry.”