Page 20 of The Paternity Puzzle
Diego snorted, but a soft flush crept up his neck. “I didn’t mean to imply you’re not an intelligent person. I just didn’t expect you to come with the French high society facts.”
He wanted to tease Diego more about his assumptions and feign wounded pride, but they’d reached their destination, and so his torment would have to wait a little longer. He’d get his revenge when Diego least expected it. They stepped into the salon, which was as formal and feminine as Royce had expected it to be. The teacup rose wallpaper was the focal point of the room, and everything in the space, from fabric colors and textures to the furniture’s shape, complemented or matched the wall treatment. Even the massive white fireplace featured elegantly carved rose vines climbing up and across the mantel.
Julia Matisse sat on a pastel green velvet settee, another term Royce had learned from Sawyer, with her legs pulled up to her chest so that only her bare toes peeked out from beneath her flowy pink skirt. She’d wrapped her arms around her legs andpressed her forehead to her knees. Her wet, wavy hair swung forward to hide her face from their view. But soft weeping and trembling shoulders attested to her heartbreak without them seeing her expression. She sniffled again and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, reminding Royce that he probably had a limited time to get coherent answers from her before she shut down.
Her head snapped up when she heard them approach. Julia’s eyes were as red as a person on a three-day bender. They looked as raw as her expression. She sniffed and pulled a fresh tissue from the box on the coffee table. The crumpled one fell forgotten to her lap as she tried to pull herself together. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Diego said. “You’ve had a terrible shock.”
“And we’re truly sorry for your loss, Miss Matisse,” Royce said, then gestured to the pair of chairs across from her. “May we?”
She sniffed and nodded. “And it’s Dr. Matisse, but you can call me Julia to minimize confusion.”
“Pardon me,” Royce said. “Do you mind if I record our conversation so I can refer to it while making my report?”
She shook her head. “Of course not.”
Royce pulled up the app and hit Play before setting his phone on the table between them. “This is Sergeant Royce Locke with Detective Diego Fuentes, interviewing Dr. Julia Matisse at the home of her parents, Dr. Jean Claude Matisse and …” He let his voice trail off so she could confirm the bottle outside belonged to her mother.
“Mrs. Alyssa Matisse,” Julia supplied for him.
Royce rattled off the date and time before launching into questions. “Can you tell me about your father’s day, Julia?”
Her lips trembled, and she pressed the tissue to her mouth before lowering her head. She met his gaze again after a few seconds and swallowed hard. “I can tell you about his day until I left for the Barclays’ house for their annual barbecue.”
“Mayor Barclay?” Diego asked.
Julia’s shoulders stiffened slightly, and she pressed her lips into a firm line. “Yes, but I call him Uncle Elliott.”
The reason for their presence became crystal clear. The mayor had likely called Commissioner Rigby and asked for her help. “Were your parents supposed to attend the barbecue as well?”
She nodded, and Royce gently asked her to answer out loud since he was only recording their voices. “Sorry. Yes. Both my parents had planned to attend the barbecue. They’d both mentioned it multiple times since I arrived from Boston on Thursday afternoon.” Julia tilted her head and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Well, my mother had mostly steered the conversation about it. My father mentioned the party at dinner on Thursday night but hadn’t brought it up since. In fact, he has said very little about anything since Friday afternoon. He’d—” She cut herself off suddenly and shook her head. “You didn’t ask about yesterday.”
“Please continue,” Royce said. “It would be extremely important if you would tell us what you observed about your dad since you arrived in town.”
Julia exhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. “Father has never been someone you’d describe as gregarious. He was extremely cerebral and lived mostly in his brain. He was introverted to a point that most would call him socially awkward, but Uncle Elliott always brought out the best in him. Father could let his guard down and enjoy the food, liquor, and company at his gatherings. That’s why it was odd when he snapped at Mother for mentioning the barbecue this morning.” Julia lowered her head and shredded the tissue in her hand. Was this a sign of agitation or anxiety?
“Was it rare for your father to lose his temper?” Diego asked.
Julia snapped her head back up and pinned Diego with an icy glare. “I didn’t say he lost his temper. That was beneath him. Father just got short with Mother when she kept bringing Elliott up in conversation. Something was clearly bothering him, but she just kept going on about the party. What she was going to wear and how we should dress. He’d just had enough and got snippy with her.”
“Can you remember what Dr. Matisse specifically said?” Royce prodded.
Julia closed her eyes and swayed slightly. When she reopened them, she wore a faraway expression. “Father told her to back off and stop nagging him. He had bigger concerns than what to wear to a garden party and didn’t want her hounding him. They argued for a few minutes, and Mother stormed from the room. Father closed his eyes and seemed to enjoy the silence until I shattered it.”
“How?” Diego asked.
“I dropped a juice glass on the kitchen floor and broke it,” Julia said. A look of utter embarrassment washed over her features. Royce figured she was in her late thirties or maybe even in her early forties. It seemed so strange that such a simple accident could cause so much strife. “Father was furious with me and berated me for my clumsy behavior.” As if remembering her previous claims, she added, “But he never raised his voice. He didn’t need to. His tongue was as sharp as a scalpel and just as deadly.” She snapped her mouth shut and pressed her hand to her lips. Julia closed her eyes, and a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her face.
Royce feared they wouldn’t get through the interview, but then she straightened her shoulders and said she was ready to continue. “What happened after the incident with the glass?”
“I cleaned it up and got ready for the party. We were all supposed to leave together, but Father had announced atbreakfast that he was waiting for an important phone call from his friend, um, his attorney and would drive separately. I asked Mother to join me, but she had hoped to change Father’s mind and ride with him. She arrived alone at the party about an hour after I did.”
“Was there anyone else in the home that might’ve witnessed unusual behavior from Dr. Matisse?” Diego asked.
“Yvonne and Ricardo,” Julia said absently, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. Yvonne is my parents’ housekeeper, and Ricardo is our chef.” She narrowed her eyes as if thinking hard. “They left early on Friday to start their holiday weekend, but I don’t know the specific time.”
“So they don’t live on-site?” Royce asked.