Father's Day Murder by Lee Harris

and wrote down everything I knew about each one. One of the things I now knew was that Dr. Horowitz had withheld a most important fact from me, that Fred Beller had been in New York for a week, and Dr. Horowitz had probably been in touch with him. Whatever the reason for his silence, I didn’t like it.
    We were up early on Saturday as we usually were and had breakfast together. I was a little hesitant about leaving Eddie with Jack since Eddie needs constant watching, but Jack assured me he wanted to spend time with his son onweekends, even though there was a lot of studying to do. And there was a long nap in Eddie’s afternoon that would give Jack time to hit the books.
    I left in plenty of time to get to David Koch’s apartment by ten. I arrived a little early, but after leaving my car in the underground garage in the building, I decided to go up right away without wasting any of my precious time. I had to be at the Waldorf by noon, and I had already decided to walk or take a taxi from here to there rather than incur two parking fees, although Janet Stern had promised to pay all my expenses. I’m even a penny-pincher where other people’s money is concerned.
    The doorman called upstairs and I was directed to an elevator. This was a very luxurious building, fairly new and built like a tower. I was glad I was going to a high floor. I knew the view would be spectacular and I wasn’t disappointed.
    I stepped out of the elevator into a small hall with two doors, one of which was already ajar. In a second David Koch himself opened it all the way, smiled, and held out his hand.
    A tall, powerful-looking man dressed in expensive casual clothes, he said, “Please come inside, Ms. Bennett. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    I told him to call me Chris and walked into a magnificent living room with views east and south. “It’s breathtaking,” I said.
    “We enjoy it. We’re city people and we enjoy looking at it. That’s the East River out there, Roosevelt Island, Queens beyond that, and down the river on the right you can see the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge and then farther down the three bridges to Brooklyn.”
    I knew he meant the Williamsburg, the Manhattan, andthe Brooklyn Bridges. “And you see the sun come up,” I said.
    “Well, maybe in the short days of winter. We don’t get up early enough to see it at this time of year.”
    We sat on an arrangement of furniture conducive to conversation, and I pulled out my notebook and pen. “You know why I’m here.”
    “Somewhat. I gather you know Mort Horowitz’s granddaughter.”
    “She took a poetry course I taught during the spring semester. She thought I might be able to figure out who killed your friend Arthur Wien last Sunday. Her mother seems very worried that because Dr. Horowitz found the body, he’s the main suspect.”
    “That may or may not be true. One way or another, we’re probably all suspects, and it does no good to tell the police we were all good friends and wouldn’t hurt each other for anything in the world.”
    “Dr. Horowitz has given me a thumbnail sketch of each of the members of your group. I wonder if you would do the same.”
    “I’ll be glad to.”
    We were sitting opposite each other. From my chair, I had the better view, both east and south. On this very sunny day, it seemed postcard perfect. A Circle Line boat was making its way up the river and a private yacht was traveling in the opposite direction. It was a remarkable view.
    “I suppose,” he began, “we all see ourselves in the famous picture of the little boys in the Bronx. I’m the first one in the back row and I’m standing next to Bernie Reskin. Bernie’s a fine man, a dedicated teacher, very bright, very thoughtful, would do anything for his students. Heprobably should have become a college professor, but the money wasn’t there for graduate school when he was ready for it, so he got a job teaching high school.”
    “Do you know how he felt about Arthur