with him I come here.’
‘An invalid, huh?’
‘Yes.’
‘But he was down there by the gate in the nighttime.’
‘He could get around. He wasn’t bedridden. He used a crutch.’
‘Was his crutch down there with his body?’
‘I didn’t notice it,’ I said. I glanced at Lily. She shook her head.
‘So you were spending the weekend?’ said Maroney to me.
‘Yes.’
‘OK.’ He shrugged. ‘What happened last night, then? Any idea who hit Mr Newton?’
‘No. We were both sleeping.’
‘Miss?’ said Maroney to Lily.
She nodded. ‘I was asleep.’
Maroney sighed. ‘So much for the assault.’ He looked over at Kinney, who had one fat leg crossed over the other. ‘Hopefully we’ll get to talk to Mr Newton,’ he said to his partner. ‘He obviously saw who it was. That’s why they hit him.’ He turned back to me. ‘Why don’t you just tell me what you know, then, Mr Coyne.’
‘I was awakened by two men in my bedroom. One of them—
‘What time was this?’
‘I have no idea. Before daybreak.’
‘Two men, you said?’
‘Yes. One held a flashlight. The other had a knife. They taped my wrists to the bedposts and they taped my mouth shut. They pretended they were going to kill me. They seemed to find this amusing for a while.’ I touched the scratch on my throat and the bigger wound on my collarbone. Lily had put Band-Aids on them. ‘They finally got tired of that game. So they hit me on the head and I went unconscious.’
‘What’d they hit you with?’
‘I’m not sure. A gun, maybe. It looked like they hit Jeff with something bigger, blunter. His wound was…’ I glanced at Lily. She was watching me, nodding.
‘We’ll get a report on Mr Newton,’ said Maroney, tapping his teeth with his pen. ‘Describe these two men, please.’
I shrugged. ‘It was dark. I think they had ski masks or hoods or something over their faces. They were shining a flashlight in my eyes. All I can tell you was that there were two of them, both male.’
‘Did they speak?’
‘One of them did most of the talking. Sadistic bastard. The other one mostly laughed.’
‘What about their voices? Any accent?’
I shrugged. ‘Their voices were muffled. No accent that I noticed.’
Maroney gazed placidly at me. ‘Well, did they sound educated? Did they use proper English and all?’
‘I can’t remember being struck by anything they said. Just the content of it. How much fun it might be to sever my head from my body.’
‘Had they been drinking, could you tell? Drugged up? Anything like that?’
‘No. Well, maybe something. The guy who taped me up had bad breath.’
‘Booze, maybe?’
‘More like garlic, or old tobacco.’
‘Big or small? Black or white? Come on, Mr Coyne.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘They seemed big to me. Otherwise, I don’t know.’
Maroney nodded. ‘OK. Fine. So then what happened?’
‘Well, when we got up this morning, we found the jaguars missing and the dogs with their throats cut. Then we found Jeff. We called 911. The EMTs came.’ I shrugged. ‘That’s what happened.’
‘Jaguars? What about jaguars?’
I gestured across the room at the seven empty glass cases. ‘Mr Newton owned these seven statues—sculptures—solid gold, Mayan works of art. Very valuable. Very old. They’re gone.’
Maroney glanced at the glass cases, as if to verify that they were indeed empty. ‘What else did they get?’
‘Nothing,’ said Lily, speaking for the first time. ‘Just the cats.’
‘As if that’s what they came for,’ said Maroney, allowing himself a faint smile. He turned to Lily. ‘You live here, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was Mr Newton doing outside last night?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘He usually sleeps soundly. He takes pills.’
‘Pills?’
‘Sleeping pills. And other pills. He’s not well.’
‘Where’s his bedroom?’
‘In the back of the house. Next to mine.’
‘You didn’t hear anything last
‘An invalid, huh?’
‘Yes.’
‘But he was down there by the gate in the nighttime.’
‘He could get around. He wasn’t bedridden. He used a crutch.’
‘Was his crutch down there with his body?’
‘I didn’t notice it,’ I said. I glanced at Lily. She shook her head.
‘So you were spending the weekend?’ said Maroney to me.
‘Yes.’
‘OK.’ He shrugged. ‘What happened last night, then? Any idea who hit Mr Newton?’
‘No. We were both sleeping.’
‘Miss?’ said Maroney to Lily.
She nodded. ‘I was asleep.’
Maroney sighed. ‘So much for the assault.’ He looked over at Kinney, who had one fat leg crossed over the other. ‘Hopefully we’ll get to talk to Mr Newton,’ he said to his partner. ‘He obviously saw who it was. That’s why they hit him.’ He turned back to me. ‘Why don’t you just tell me what you know, then, Mr Coyne.’
‘I was awakened by two men in my bedroom. One of them—
‘What time was this?’
‘I have no idea. Before daybreak.’
‘Two men, you said?’
‘Yes. One held a flashlight. The other had a knife. They taped my wrists to the bedposts and they taped my mouth shut. They pretended they were going to kill me. They seemed to find this amusing for a while.’ I touched the scratch on my throat and the bigger wound on my collarbone. Lily had put Band-Aids on them. ‘They finally got tired of that game. So they hit me on the head and I went unconscious.’
‘What’d they hit you with?’
‘I’m not sure. A gun, maybe. It looked like they hit Jeff with something bigger, blunter. His wound was…’ I glanced at Lily. She was watching me, nodding.
‘We’ll get a report on Mr Newton,’ said Maroney, tapping his teeth with his pen. ‘Describe these two men, please.’
I shrugged. ‘It was dark. I think they had ski masks or hoods or something over their faces. They were shining a flashlight in my eyes. All I can tell you was that there were two of them, both male.’
‘Did they speak?’
‘One of them did most of the talking. Sadistic bastard. The other one mostly laughed.’
‘What about their voices? Any accent?’
I shrugged. ‘Their voices were muffled. No accent that I noticed.’
Maroney gazed placidly at me. ‘Well, did they sound educated? Did they use proper English and all?’
‘I can’t remember being struck by anything they said. Just the content of it. How much fun it might be to sever my head from my body.’
‘Had they been drinking, could you tell? Drugged up? Anything like that?’
‘No. Well, maybe something. The guy who taped me up had bad breath.’
‘Booze, maybe?’
‘More like garlic, or old tobacco.’
‘Big or small? Black or white? Come on, Mr Coyne.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘They seemed big to me. Otherwise, I don’t know.’
Maroney nodded. ‘OK. Fine. So then what happened?’
‘Well, when we got up this morning, we found the jaguars missing and the dogs with their throats cut. Then we found Jeff. We called 911. The EMTs came.’ I shrugged. ‘That’s what happened.’
‘Jaguars? What about jaguars?’
I gestured across the room at the seven empty glass cases. ‘Mr Newton owned these seven statues—sculptures—solid gold, Mayan works of art. Very valuable. Very old. They’re gone.’
Maroney glanced at the glass cases, as if to verify that they were indeed empty. ‘What else did they get?’
‘Nothing,’ said Lily, speaking for the first time. ‘Just the cats.’
‘As if that’s what they came for,’ said Maroney, allowing himself a faint smile. He turned to Lily. ‘You live here, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was Mr Newton doing outside last night?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘He usually sleeps soundly. He takes pills.’
‘Pills?’
‘Sleeping pills. And other pills. He’s not well.’
‘Where’s his bedroom?’
‘In the back of the house. Next to mine.’
‘You didn’t hear anything last
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