“You tell me, Nicole. Did you have anything to do with the remains found here yesterday morning?”
“Absolutely not, and I cannot imagine how something like this could ever have happened.”
“Can you tell me how it’s possible that the three of you live in this house and are completely unaware of a series of crimes that happened over time outside the back door?”
Behind us, Nigel Worley said angrily, “Bloody cheek, these questions.”
“Dad, don’t you have something else you could be doing?” said Nicole.
Nigel Worley was a big, angry man with large hands. I could picture him turning violent. But if he’d killed these seven people, his exhuming their heads made no logical sense. And putting a garland of chrysanthemum blossoms around them seemed a little dainty for him.
I said, “Mr. Worley. Do you think Mr. Chandler could have been involved in what has happened here?”
“Killing and digging would require actual labor, wouldn’t it? I don’t picture Mr. Chandler getting his hands dirty.”
I didn’t know about Harry Chandler, but Nigel Worley looked like he got his hands dirty every day.
Chapter 20
NIGEL WORLEY SLAMMED AROUND behind us, crashing the last of the iron trivets against the stove.
When Nigel had left the room, Conklin put a picture of the recently decapitated woman’s head in front of Nicole. Her eyes widened at the sight of that decomposing face and she pushed back from the table.
“Do you know this woman?” Conklin asked her.
“I’ve never seen her in my life.”
“This is one of the two heads your parents discovered yesterday morning,” I said.
“It’s revolting. It’s horrible.”
“She was walking around last week, Nicole. Then her head was cut off with a saw.”
“I find this unfathomable.”
“What is your relationship with Harry Chandler?”
“I’m his caretakers’ daughter. That’s all. Do you want my opinion of him?”
“Please.”
“He’s been accused of horrible things before, but I know him to be a good man. He has been very kind to my family. We’ve been good to him too.”
“Your father seems to dislike him.”
“Oh, all that growling means nothing. He thinks my mother is starstruck and he hates that.”
“You were sixteen when you came to live here?”
“That’s right.”
“And the reason you moved from London?”
“My parents had a romantic notion about America. As soon as we arrived, I fell in love with this city and this house. I’m kind of an expert on the Ellsworth family. Harry lets me live in number two at no charge,” Nicole explained, “and so I give lectures about the house to the tourists in exchange for free rent.”
I said, “So you know everything about this house, Nicole. Everything except that the backyard was basically a cemetery.”
The young woman’s face colored.
The direct approach wasn’t working, or maybe Nicole knew as little as she said she did.
Before I could fire off another question, my phone rang.
I glanced at the caller ID, got up, and took the call in the pantry.