Death on Deadline - Robert Goldsborough Page 0,43
hair and all, I said to myself. I began to see why Harriet and Lily had been impressed with her.
Wolfe leaned back, his eyes going from Donna to her brother and then to Carolyn. “As I’m sure you all are aware, Harriet Haverhill was here last Wednesday, along with Mr. Dean. She—”
“It was because of that stupid ad of yours in the Times,” David hissed.
“If I may continue.” Wolfe narrowed his eyes. “Yes, it was my advertisement that brought her here. And I had sufficient time with her to convince me that this was in no way a suicidal person.”
“Oh, great,” David said, leaning forward again as if he were getting ready to spring. “Ten minutes with her, and you’re the world’s greatest expert on Harriet Haverhill.”
“I make no claims to expertise regarding Mrs. Haverhill.” Wolfe was getting annoyed. “But I do put to use what powers of observation I possess. Are you completely satisfied that your stepmother killed herself?”
“Completely. And so are the police,” David declared flatly.
Wolfe turned to Donna. “I pose the same question to you.”
She hesitated, shifting in her chair. “Well, she was awfully upset Friday when we talked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harriet so disturbed.”
“What were the circumstances of your meeting?”
“She had phoned me the day before—Thursday. I’d just gotten back from a vacation abroad—in fact, I was still unpacking when the call came. She said she needed to talk to me, that it was extremely important, that it involved the future of the Gazette. She asked me, really almost begged me, to come down from Boston as fast as I could. I told her I’d take the shuttle Friday morning. I was still jet-lagged, but I was in her office just before nine the next day.”
“You knew why she wanted to see you?”
“I—yes, I had a pretty good idea.”
“How could you, as you had been in Europe for several weeks?”
Her green eyes flicked toward her brother, then back to Wolfe. “David had called me at my hotel in Florence and told me that Ian MacLaren was making a serious bid for the paper. He thought I ought to know.”
“How did you feel about Mr. MacLaren as a prospective proprietor of the Gazette?”
Donna lifted her slim shoulders, then let them fall. “Honestly, I didn’t have strong feelings one way or the other. This may sound callous, but I don’t have any particular loyalty to the paper. I’ve never really been a part of it. Oh, I know I have a substantial financial interest, but as far as any kind of an emotional tie, no. Maybe it’s because my father has been dead for so long, or because I’ve lived away from New York for so many years now.”
“And your feelings toward your stepmother?”
Another shrug. “I’ve never disliked Harriet, but I’ve also never felt terribly close to her. She was . . . someone who happened to marry my father.”
“In your estimation, had she done a good job of running the newspaper?”
“Yes-s-s, I suppose so,” Donna said, wrinkling her forehead. “The Gazette is certainly well-respected, from what I see and hear.”
Wolfe drained the beer from his glass and poured the second bottle. “Were you unhappy that she never gave your brother an opportunity to be in charge?”
David started to cut in, but Donna showed him a palm. “Unhappy? Maybe, although I think ‘puzzled’ would better describe it. Harriet was well into her seventies, and I kept thinking she’d want to step down. But she seemed determined to hold on.”
“Had you ever talked to her about retiring?”
“Oh, the subject came up once or twice through the years, but she always insisted that she felt fine and thrived on hard work.”
“What about your conversation with her on Friday?”
“A rough one,” Donna said, nibbling at her lipstick. “She told me right at the start that MacLaren was making a hard run at the other shareholders and asked if he’d approached me.”
“Had he?”
“No, although David had told me I could expect to hear from MacLaren almost immediately on my return from Europe. Anyway, Harriet begged me to sell my shares to her for the trust she was planning. She asked me at the very least not to sell to MacLaren. She was known for her temper, but I’ve never seen her as furious as she was Friday.”
“What did you tell her?” Wolfe prodded.
Donna paused for a deep breath. She didn’t look at her brother. “I said that if MacLaren really was going to offer me the price per share