The Undertaker's Widow by Phillip Margolin Page B

on Lamar Hoyt’s end table. Then he took out the crime scene photographs and the lab reports and shuffled through them. Every so often, he compared a photograph to the section of the room it portrayed. When he was through with the photographs, Yoshida began studying sections of the room. He stood at the door to the bathroom for a while, then inspected the armoire that stood opposite the foot of the bed against the south wall. After he was shot, Martin Jablonski had crumpled to the floor with his feet almost touching the side of the armoire that faced the west wall. A fine spray of blood that discolored the west-facing side of the armoire about six feet above the carpet attracted Yoshida’s attention.
    Occasionally, Yoshida made notes on a yellow pad.Other times he asked Anthony to hold one end of a roll of string over a particular patch of blood while he unrolled the string and straightened it at some point before squatting down and sighting back along it toward Anthony. Sometimes Yoshida employed a tape measure. Except to clarify Yoshida’s instructions, Anthony kept quiet, even though he was anxious to learn Yoshida’s conclusions.
    Yoshida put everything back in the attaché and snapped the locks closed. Anthony looked at him expectantly. Yoshida looked very grim. He explained his conclusions to Anthony with scientific detachment while walking the detective through every step in his reasoning and showing him the physical evidence that supported his opinion. Anthony’s mood grew more morose with each new detail.
    When Yoshida was through, Anthony told him to wait in the living room while he went in search of James Allen. The detective found the houseman in the kitchen. A huge, tiled center island with several stove lights dominated the room. Anthony spotted two dishwashers and two ovens. Copperware hung from the ceiling. Allen was seated at a large wooden table polishing silverware. He stood up when Anthony entered.
    â€œAre you through, sir?”
    â€œJust about. I wanted to ask a few questions, though.”
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œHow long did you work for Mr. Hoyt?”
    â€œA long time. Mr. Hoyt first employed me in the West Side Home of Heavenly Rest. When he purchased this estate, he asked me if I would work for him here.”
    â€œWas Mr. Hoyt a good employer?”
    â€œHe was the best, sir,” Allen answered. He paused and it was clear to Anthony that the houseman was struggling.
    â€œI want to be completely honest, Detective. I don’t want you thinking that I have concealed information. When I was a young man … well, sir, I killed a man. There is no other way to put it.”
    Allen looked down, embarrassed by his confession.
    â€œI was convicted of manslaughter and I served two years in prison. I was twenty when I was paroled. I was a high school dropout with no job skills who bore the stigma of a felony conviction. No one would hire me. I was sleeping in missions, barely able to keep myself together. I seriously considered suicide on more than one occasion. Then Mr. Hoyt hired me. He … well, sir, it would be quite accurate to say that he saved my life. Simply giving me a job would have been enough, but he did much more. When my mother grew ill, Mr. Hoyt paid for her care and he financed my education.”
    Allen looked directly into Anthony’s eyes. “Mr. Hoyt was not merely my employer. He was my savior. His death has been very hard on me.”
    â€œI appreciate your candor.”
    â€œThank you, sir.”
    â€œIf you worked for Mr. Hoyt since you were twenty, I guess you were with him through all three marriages.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œI gather that the first two were pretty stormy toward the end.”
    â€œThey were.”
    â€œHow about his marriage to the senator? Did Mr. Hoyt and Senator Crease get along?”
    Allen looked uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t be discussing Mr. Hoyt’s private