“Including Logan Manning,” Sam finished.
“Right.”
“Did Leigh Manning know her husband was one of the backers?”
“Of course. The subject came up at a dinner party a week or so before opening night. She seemed a little surprised, but not upset.” He held up his glass, and Eric appeared at his side with a refill from the pitcher.
As if belatedly realizing that both detectives might draw the wrong conclusion from what he’d said, he added an explanation. “Logan said his decision to take a profit as a backer rather than making all the profits from Leigh’s salary was related to their income taxes. The income tax on Leigh’s salary would be thirty-nine point six percent. The capital gains tax on profits from investments—including an investment in Blind Spot—is only twenty percent.”
“How much money did he invest?”
Solomon shrugged. “Very little—two hundred thousand dollars.”
“Just one more question,” McCord said. “You’re very creative, which tells me you’re also highly intuitive, and you’re also accustomed to working with actors. You just said that Leigh Manning seemed ‘surprised’ when she realized at a dinner party that her husband’s financial advice had obviously been in his best financial interest, but not hers. You’ve also said that the Mannings were happily married. Is it possible that Mrs. Manning, who is an acclaimed actress, has simply been giving some very convincing performances offstage, as well as onstage?”
Solomon dusted crumbs of toast from his fingers and wiped his mouth with his napkin; then he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms over his chest, and gave McCord a long, measuring look. In a surprisingly chilly voice, he said, “Just exactly what are you getting at? Are you suggesting there is even a remote possibility that Leigh killed Logan?”
“I’m not suggesting anything right now, I’m merely hypothesizing.”
Jason Solomon didn’t buy that for a moment. “That is exactly what you’re suggesting. In which case, I feel compelled to give you the benefit of my unabridged, highly intuitive opinion: You are full of shit. You are wasting your time, and you are wasting my time.”
“Excellent,” McCord replied smoothly. “Now that we’ve abandoned polite formalities, where were you on Sunday, November twenty-ninth, from three P.M. to three A.M. the following morning?”
Jason gaped at him. “Now you think / murdered Logan?”
“Did you?”
“What reason would I have to do that?”
“Let me think . . . For starters, I’m sure you have a large insurance policy on Leigh Manning. How much money would you receive if she were declared mentally unable to resume her role? Jane Sebring has taken over her role. How much money would you save if you didn’t have to pay Leigh Manning and Jane Sebring remained in the role?”
“This is insane!” Jason said angrily. The doorbell rang and he glanced at Eric. “Answer that, dammit.”
“If that sounds too far-fetched,” McCord said when Eric was gone, “try this out: You’re gay and you’re sure as hell not interested in poor Eric, except as a cook and servant. Did Logan Manning appeal to you? Did he turn you down and wound your ego when you made your move?”
“You son of a bitch!” Solomon said softly.
McCord reacted to that slur on his mother’s morals with tranquil amusement. “I’m always surprised by the number of people who knew my mother.”
Solomon gaped at him; then he threw back his head and shouted with laughter. “I’m going to use that line in a play.”
“If you do, I’ll tell everyone you’re a plagiarist.”
“Sue me instead. I—” He broke off, turning in surprise at the sound of a woman’s voice raised in hysteria in the living room.
“Get out of my way, Eric!” she cried. “I don’t care who he’s with. It doesn’t matter if they hear! By tonight, everyone is going to know—”
Jason jumped to his feet, nearly overturning his chair, just as Jane Sebring burst into the kitchen, her face devoid of makeup, tears streaming from her eyes. “A reporter called me a few minutes ago,” she stormed. “He wanted a statement from me before they break the story on tonight’s news.”
“Calm down, darling,” Solomon ordered, opening his arms to her and patting her back. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Logan!” she cried. “Some sleazebag reporter went through my trash and bribed my doorman.”
Solomon moved her forward enough to look at her wet face. “And the sleazebag found out what?”
“He found out Logan and I were having an affair!” she cried.
His face white with shock, horror, and fury, Solomon dropped his arms and stepped back. Sam looked at McCord, who seemed fascinated; then she looked at Eric Ingram.
He looked disgusted. He did not look at all surprised.
“WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK now?” McCord asked Sam as they walked along the sidewalk to his car. He was thoroughly pleased with Jane Sebring’s tearful revelation. “Tell me, did Leigh Manning have a motive for murder, or what?”
Sam looked up at the bright strip of blue sky, thinking. Until a few minutes ago, she hadn’t believed Leigh Kendall would have gone along with any plan of Valente’s to murder her husband, but Logan Manning’s affair with Jane Sebring changed things. . . . “I want the answers to two questions before I decide.”
“What questions?”
“I want to know if Leigh Manning knew about her husband’s affair with Sebring. I’d also like to check out the alibi Jane Sebring just gave us for Sunday night. We know that Leigh Manning had to stay after the matinee to work out some glitches with Solomon. But Jane Sebring says she left the theater right after the matinee and went directly home. She says she went to bed, but then she got up later, had dinner alone, and watched a movie on television. That’s not much of an alibi,” Sam pointed out.
“She told us what movie she watched, how much more proof do you need?”
“If she was smart enough to wrap Logan Manning’s hand around his gun after she blew his brains out, I imagine she’s smart enough to have looked at a TV Guide when she got home so that she could tell us what movies she watched. Oh—” Sam said, when she saw his smirk. “I thought you were serious.”
“You don’t want to believe Leigh Manning is guilty, do you?”
“I don’t have a preference,” Sam protested. “I just want to feel absolutely sure.”
“Check out Sebring’s alibi. She used a car service to take her home after the matinee, so they’ll have a record. She said she spoke to her doorman when she came in after the matinee.”
“The same doorman who took a bribe to rat on her about her affair with Manning? I’d be really impressed with his integrity.”
“He doesn’t work twenty-four hours a day. Maybe it was another doorman who saw her come in.”
“She c
ould have left again without him seeing her. If she left right away, she would have made it to the mountains before it really started snowing.”
“True,” McCord said, glancing at his watch. “Let’s go over to Manning’s office and help Shrader and Womack question the employees.”
Chapter 39
* * *
Manning Development’s suite was on the fifteenth floor, directly off the elevator, behind a pair of imposing double doors that opened into a spacious, circular reception area with offices and conference rooms surrounding it. Groupings of curved sofas and rounded chairs in shades of plum and blue were situated between ornamental stainless steel columns.
When Sam and McCord arrived, the reception area was empty except for a receptionist at a semicircular desk to their far right. She directed them to an office on the opposite side, where Shrader and Womack were interviewing the staff.
“We’ve had a rather enlightening morning so far,” Shrader said. “Womack just went to question Manning’s secretary. Did you two get anything out of Solomon?”
McCord quickly filled him in on what they’d learned while they were at Solomon’s place; then he asked for details on Shrader’s morning.
“I think we’re in luck,” Shrader said. “One of the architects who works for Manning—George Sokoloff—told me he’s in charge of a big project called Crescent Plaza that Manning wanted to design and construct. It had twin residential towers attached to a fancy shopping mall. Guess who Manning’s ‘secret investor’ was likely to be?”
“Valente,” McCord said with satisfaction.
“Right. Valente and Manning were doing a lot of talking. Here’s what makes that especially interesting: Sokoloff told me the design for Crescent Plaza was really unique, really spectacular, and that Valente loved it when he saw it. Valente wanted to hire Manning as supervising architect, but build the plaza himself. Sokoloff said Manning refused and was adamant about being a major partner in the building-and-development phase and part owner of the finished project.”
“Valente doesn’t like partners. He’s not a team player.”