The Key to Midnight

asked.
        'Yes.'
        'And it cleared? You got the money?'
        'Every dime. And if there was such a large estate, then my father and mother - Robert and Elizabeth - must have been real people.'
        'Maybe,' Alex said doubtfully. 'Real people. But even if they did exist, that doesn't mean you were their daughter.'
        'How else could I inherit from them?'
        Instead of responding, he read the last two of the five letters, both of which were from the claims office of the United British-Continental Insurance Association, Limited. Upon its receipt of the medical examiner's official certification of the death of Robert and Elizabeth (nee Henderson) Rand, British-Continental had honored Robert's life insurance policy and had paid the full death benefits to Joanna, the sole surviving heir. The sum received - which was in addition to the three hundred thousand dollars that had been realized from the liquidation of the estate - was a hundred thousand pounds Sterling, minus the applicable taxes.
        'A hundred thousand pounds. More than another hundred and fifty thousand bucks. And you received this too?' Alex asked.
        'Yes.'
        'Quite a lot of money.'
        'It was,' Joanna agreed. 'But I needed virtually all of it to purchase this building and renovate it. The place needed a lot of work. Then I had to use most of what was left to operate the Moonglow until it became profitable - which, thank God, wasn't all that long.'
        Alex shuffled the letters, stopped when he found the last one from the London solicitor, and said, 'This Woolrich guy - did you do all of your business with him by mail and on the phone?'
        'Of course not.'
        'You met him face-to-face?'
        'Sure. Lots of times.'
        'When? Where?'
        'He was my father's… He was Robert Rand's personal attorney. They were also friends. He was a dinner guest at our apartment in London at least three or four times a year.'
        'What was he like?'
        'Very kind, gentle,' Joanna said. 'After my parents were killed in the accident near Brighton - well, if they were my parents - Mr. Woolrich came to see me a number of times. And not just when he needed my approval or my signature to proceed with the settlement of the estate. He paid me frequent visits. I was horribly depressed. He worried about keeping my spirits up. I don't know how I'd have gotten through without him. He loved jokes. He always had a couple of new jokes to tell me every time he came by. Usually quite funny jokes too. Always trying to get a little laugh out of me. He was extraordinarily considerate. He never made me go to his office on business. He always came to me. He never put me out in the least. He was warm and considerate. He was a nice man. I liked him.'
        Alex studied her with narrowed eyes, very much the detective again. 'Did you listen to yourself just now?'
        'What?'
        'The way you sounded.'
        'How did I sound?'
        Rather than answer, he got up from the couch and began to pace. 'Tell me one of his jokes.'
        'Jokes?'
        'Yes. Tell me one.'
        'You can't be serious. I don't remember any. Not after all these years.'
        'His jokes were usually quite funny. You stressed that. Seems reasonable to assume you might remember at least one.'
        She was puzzled by his interest. 'Well, I don't. Sorry. Why does it matter anyway?'
        He stopped pacing and stared down at her.
        Those eyes. Once again she was aware of their power. They opened her with a glance and left her defenseless. She had thought she was armored against their effect, but she wasn't. Paranoia surged in her, the stark terror of having no secrets and no place to hide. She fought off that brief madness and retained her composure.
        'If you could recall one of his jokes,' Alex said, 'you'd provide some much needed detail. You'd be adding verisimilitude to what are now, frankly, very thin recollections of him.'
        'I'm not trying to hide anything. I'm giving you all the details I can.'
        'I know. That's what bothers me.' Alex sat beside her again. 'Didn't you notice anything odd about the way you summed up Woolrich a moment ago?'
        'Odd?'
        'Your voice changed. In fact, your whole manner changed. Subtly. But I noticed it. As soon as you started talking about this Woolrich, you spoke in… almost a monotone, choppy sentences… as if you were