Chapter 13 #2
The door opened, and the man Sarah had seen in the window last night looked from Conner to her and back, a broad, welcoming smile on his lips.
“Kale, what brings our newest council member out for a visit so early on a Saturday morning?”
“Morning, Jerald.” Conner gestured to Sarah. “This is Sarah Newton. I’m sure you’ve heard she’s here to help with the investigation.”
“Of course.” Jerald Pope thrust out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sarah. Won’t you come in?”
Sarah accepted the offered hand, gave it a solid shake. “I’d love to.”
Environment spoke volumes about a person. Hopes, dreams, goals, concerns . . . they were all there.
The Pope home certainly had plenty to say.
The entry hall was every bit as grand as one would expect for a house of this magnitude.
Marble floors gleamed. Wood moldings, intricately designed and glossy white, accented the bold, rich walls.
Splendid art lined the walls, making Sarah think of a museum or a gallery rather than a home.
Position and power were immensely important to one or all of the Popes.
Jerald Pope led the way to a luxurious sitting room on the right. “Please make yourselves at home.” He gestured to the sofa. “Coffee? Tea?”
Conner shook his head, and Sarah declined the offer of refreshments as they accepted the invitation to sit, an entire sofa cushion between them.
“Are you making progress in your investigation?” Pope asked her as he settled into a silk-encased wing chair.
Nice. Someone else who liked to cut to the chase. “I’m still getting a feel for the community.”
Pope relaxed more deeply into his chair. “How may I assist your endeavor?”
Sarah liked this guy already. Straight to the point. “Last night I noticed you have a perfect view of the chapel. That’s a very nice telescope you have, by the way.”
Pope smiled knowingly. “Indeed. That was you up at the chapel last night, was it?”
“It was.” Tension rippled through Sarah as she considered that someone had stolen up behind her and given her what could have been a fatal shove. “Did you notice anyone else there last night?”
Pope moved his head from side to side. “Only you. And I probably wouldn’t have noticed your presence there if not for your flashlight. I considered reporting the activity, but then you were gone and I let it go.”
She’d concluded as much. “Do you view the comings and goings at the chapel often?”
“Not until recently.” He gestured to the soaring windows across the room.
“When my wife and I commissioned this home, we wanted to take in as much of the views as possible, the ocean as well as the mountains. The windows accommodate us quite well. The telescope is for watching the stars with my daughter.”
“I’m sure the police have asked you this question already,” Sarah ventured, “but I wondered if you saw anything or anyone the night Valerie Gerard was murdered?”
Regret etched across Pope’s face. “Unfortunately not. I wish I had been watching that night. Perhaps I could have helped. Since that tragedy struck”—he closed his eyes, drew in a heavy breath—“I try to keep an eye on the chapel.” He blinked twice. “That’s why I saw you last night.”
“But then”—Sarah searched his face, his eyes, gauged the sincerity there—“you can’t watch every minute.”
He held her gaze, something like defeat in his. “So true.”
Conner cleared his throat—whether to let her know it was time to go or from the emotional impact of the moment, Sarah couldn’t say.
“I’m sure the chief appreciates your efforts,” Conner offered.
“It’s the least I can do.”
Sarah had other names on her list. She’d gotten all she was going to get here for now. She stood, giving Conner a cue to do the same. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Pope.”
He rose. “Please.” Pope smiled. “Call me Jerald.”
“Jerald. If I think of other questions . . .”
“Stop by any time,” he offered. “I’m completely at your disposal.”
“I appreciate that.” Sarah surveyed the room before moving toward the hall. “Your home is magnificent.”
“We enjoy it.” He paused at the front entry. “You’ll have to visit again when my wife and daughter are home. Perhaps you’ll join us for dinner one evening.”
“Absolutely.” Sarah hesitated when he opened the door. “Your daughter,” she said to Pope, “was she close to either of the victims?” Unnecessary question actually. As Conner had pointed out repeatedly, everyone here knew everyone else.
“Not really.” Pope seemed to weigh his words before continuing. “She attended school here in Youngstown with Valerie, but they were never close friends.” He shook his head. “Such a tragedy.”
Definitely a tragedy.
In the Jeep, Conner braked at the end of the cobblestone driveway. “Where to now?”
His enthusiasm was underwhelming. “The next name on the list. Marta Hanover.”
Without comment, he pointed the Jeep in the direction of town.
Sarah found it quite abnormal that he didn’t ask why she wanted to speak with the Hanover woman. Maybe he didn’t want to open himself up to questioning. He’d been noticeably quiet since she’d questioned him about his personal life.
“In case you didn’t know,” he said abruptly, as if to defy any negative conclusions she might have reached, “Jerald Pope paid for Valerie’s funeral.
Paid off the mortgage on her family’s home, too, so her father wouldn’t have to rush back to work.
The Popes are good people,” Conner added without even a glance in her direction, “just like the rest of the folks around here.”
“Interesting.” Rich, powerful, and generous. A complex man. Sarah would keep that in mind as she assessed the people on her list. Each name was there as a result of having met one or more of the Big Three criteria.
Access to the victims was the primary reason Pope had made Sarah’s list. He lived closer than anyone else to the crime scene. He had a daughter near the same age as both Valerie Gerard and Alicia Appleton.
Motive, means, opportunity. The Big Three.
No one committed a murder for anything less than one or all.