Original Sin

Tess nodded. ‘I appreciate that, Mr Carson,’ she said, ‘but it’s also my job to find out the truth, too. I have to know. If you’ve read the papers, you’ll understand just how much is at stake.’

Carson began to massage his neck. ‘Sure, I got that. But you gotta understand that Olivia Martin was a high–profile woman and this case was investigated properly. She wasn’t reported missing for over thirty–six hours, and missing people who aren’t found in the first forty–eight hours are very rarely found at all.’

‘So do you think she’s alive?’

Carson turned up his hands. ‘Some people do manage to drop out of society, but Olivia was well known and people were looking for her; I think she would have been spotted. I do know the sister got an inquest held, and it didn’t go so far as to declare suicide. That’s pretty much impossible when there’s no body.’

‘Did the sister get any money?’ asked Tess.

He shrugged. ‘A missing person can be declared dead after seven years. The sister was the only living relative so she would have got any life insurance, but she was in Sacremento the night of the wedding, if you’re wondering if she could have killed Olivia.’

Tess could tell that she had exhausted her welcome. She could understand it: who wants to keep answering questions about something that happened forty–something years before, especially when there were no answers. Tess picked up her bag and stood up.

‘Thank you for your time, Mr Carson,’ she said, offering her hand. ‘Before I go, can I just ask you what you think happened? Was it suicide? Murder?’

Carson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Ever heard of Ockham’s Razor?’

Tess shook her head.

‘It’s a principle used in medicine. In layman’s terms, it kinda means that when you have different conflicting theories, the simplest explanation is most likely to be the best, or most true explanation.’

Tess mulled it over as they walked down the steps and into the garden.

‘So the theory that a depressed, drugged–up Olivia Martin takes a walk by the river and then falls in is more likely than the theory that her sister killed her for insurance money or Howard Asgill killed her so she’d keep quiet about an affair?’

Carson nodded.

Tess paused on the sidewalk. ‘You’re certain it couldn’t have been Howard?’

‘Miss Garrett, I interviewed Howard Asgill myself,’ he said firmly. ‘In my professional opinion, he wasn’t involved in any way. If someone did kill Olivia Martin, it wasn’t him.’

*

Tess was thoughtful as she drove back to Riverview. She was honestly no wiser as to the truth of the Olivia Martin case, but she found that she was enjoying the process: asking questions, talking to people; it felt as if she was doing something constructive. If she was honest, her confrontation with Alicia Wintrop had upset her more than it should. Alicia’s accusation that working for the Asgills and effectively covering up lies and transgressions – misleading people – was somehow morally suspect had hit a nerve. It was something Tess knew to be true, but had so far managed to ignore. But now, out here, away from the glitter of Manhattan, Tess could see that the truth was actually a little more complicated. Everyone had things in their past that they would rather stayed in the past; everyone made mistakes. The question was which of them should remain buried.

Tess felt a sense of real relief as she turned through the iron gates of Riverview. She hadn’t changed her clothes since her flight down, and was beginning to feel a bit icky. Back in her room, she showered, changed into a long cool dress and headed down to the hotel restaurant. It was busy, but Tess found a quiet table in the corner and ordered a mint julep. She had been thinking about the one she had rejected a couple of hours earlier all the way back from Vacherie.

‘Is everything all right, Miss Garrett?’

She looked up to see an elegant woman of around sixty, whose dove–grey linen slacks were exactly the same colour as her hair.

‘Lori Adams,’ she said, extending a hand. ‘Assistant manager. I believe you’re here from the Chronicle?’

Tess smiled politely. It was par for the course on press trips to be accosted by the management for a tour of the grounds or detailed briefing on the latest improvements to the hotel. She knew it was the trade–off for getting free accommodation, but she wished she’d called room service.

‘Everything’s great,’ she smiled. ‘This is a really special place.’

‘May I?’ asked Lori, pointing at the chair opposite Tess.

‘Please do.’

Lori signalled to the waiter to bring her another mint julep. ‘Yes, it is special, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘It’s

certainly going to be hard giving it up, I can tell you.’

‘Giving it up?’

‘I retire next week,’ smiled the woman. ‘There’s a lot of memories here; Riverview has been my life. Although perhaps it’s time, things are beginning to change now we’re part of a big corporate business. It wasn’t like that when I started working here forty years ago.’