I phoned Vincent Slater. He took the news calmly. “It was inevitable,” he said quietly. “But he’ll be home tonight, I can promise you that. In New Jersey a judge has to give bail. I’m sure they’ll set it in the millions, but we’ll have it available.”

The lawyers were due to arrive at nine o’clock. For no particular reason, I called Conner Banks rather than any of the other three. “We did expect this, Kay,” he said, “but I know it’s awful for both of you. We’ll get a copy of the arrest warrant, and Markinson and I will be in court at three o’clock. We’ll see you then.”

When I hung up, I walked over to the window. Rain and sleet had been predicted by noon, but as I watched, I saw the first drops of rain begin to fall. Then pellets of sleet began to hit the window. “Didn’t I read somewhere that police dogs don’t work if it’s raining?” I asked Detective Sepetti.

“It depends on what they’re looking for,” she said. “If it keeps up like this, I’d guess they’ll bring them in.”

“What are they looking for?” I asked her. I knew there was anger in my voice. The question I really wanted to ask was if they thought Peter was a serial killer and were expecting to find bodies buried all over the estate.

“I don’t know, Mrs. Carrington,” she said quietly, and I looked at her. She was in her late forties, I would guess. Her chin-length brown hair had a natural wave that softened her somewhat round face. She was wearing a dark blue jacket and black slacks. Earrings in the shape of X’s were the only jewelry I could see, although I’m sure she must have been wearing a watch that was covered by her sleeve.

It was so crazy to focus on details like that, of absolutely no importance to anyone. I turned away from the window. There was a small television in the kitchen, and I turned it on just in time to see Peter leaving the police car and being led into the Bergen County Jail.

“As Carrington is arrested on a charge of murder, evidence continues to pile up against him, our sources tell us,” the reporter was saying. “The former maid, Maria Valdez Cruz, has not only confessed that she lied when she claimed she saw Carrington’s dress shirt in the hamper, but also has proof that Carrington’s father paid her off with a five-thousand-dollar bribe.”

I snapped off the television. “Oh, my God,” Jane Barr was saying. “I don’t believe it. It would never have happened. Mr. Carrington senior was an honorable man. He’d never bribe anyone.”

Even to save his son’s life? I asked myself. What would I have done if I were in his place?

I wasn’t sure I knew the answer.

Elaine Carrington was still in bed when detectives from the prosecutor’s office rang the doorbell of her home shortly after 6:30 A.M. Startled, she threw on a robe and rushed to answer it. Had something happened to Richard? she wondered frantically. Hadn’t he satisfied those gambling debts in time? Terrified at what she might hear, she yanked open the door.

When she was handed the search warrant, her immediate reaction was something approaching relief. Then, accompanied by a detective whose presence she ignored, she went to the study and turned on the television.

A few minutes later, the sight of Peter getting out of a car in handcuffs at the Bergen County Jail made her cringe. He’s always been good to me, she reflected as she watched him trying to turn his face away from the photographers.

“At age twenty-two, upon his father’s sudden death, Peter Carrington became head of the family empire,” the TV anchor was saying.

A picture of father and son, taken shortly before the elder man’s fatal heart attack, flashed on the screen, immediately triggering an angry reaction from Elaine. Young as Peter was, he understood what it was like for me to live with that miserable tightwad, she thought. One of the richest men in the world, yet we even argued about money the day of his own birthday party. He was always threatening not to pay bills. “You run them up. You figure out a way to pay them.” That was his big speech. In the five years I was married to him, he complained about every nickel I spent, she thought bitterly.

When the segment of the program about Peter was over, Elaine pushed the power button on the remote control. When I married him, everything about this place had been let go for years, she remembered. The only thing he didn’t begrudge was the landscaping. Nature boy himself.

She realized that whenever she was nervous or upset, her mind flooded with anger at the stinginess of the prenuptial agreement she had been pressured to sign. Then, a sound from outside made her hurry to the window. Sleet was starting to pound against the panes, but she was hearing something else. “Are there dogs out there?” she asked incredulously of the young detective who was sitting on a chair in the doorway of the study.

“Those are the dogs searching the grounds, Mrs. Carrington,” he answered, his tone businesslike.

“They already found Susan Althorp’s body. What are they looking for now? Do they think this place is a cemetery?” she snapped.

The detective did not respond.

By noon, the search team had left her house, and Elaine went upstairs to her bedroom. As she showered and dressed, her mind raced with the possibilities raised by Peter’s arrest. What will happen if Peter goes to prison for the rest of his life? she asked herself. Would he and Kay decide to sell this place? Can they do it while I’m alive? That might violate my prenup, or at the very least they’d have to buy me out.

The prenuptial she had signed had been the best her lawyer could do. Ten million dollars when Carrington senior died; lifetime residency both on the estate and in the smaller of the two Carrington Park Avenue apartments. Income of a million dollars a year for the rest of her life. But of course there was a catch: the availability of the house and apartment as well as the income would cease upon her remarriage. The ten million has been gone for years, most of it lost in that one lousy investment, Elaine thought bitterly. I should have gotten millions more.

I was wrong to try to talk Peter out of marrying Kay, she worried as she pulled slacks and a cashmere sweater from the closet. She’s bound to be holding that against me. I guess I should have called them when they got back from the honeymoon, but I just didn’t feel like looking at her strutting around the mansion.

She turned on the television again. According to the news reports, Peter was going to be arraigned in the courthouse at three o’clock. She picked up the phone. When Kay answered, she began, “Kay, darling, I’m absolutely heartsick for you and for Peter. I want to be with you at the arraignment.”

Kay responded instantly to her expressions of concern. “No, don’t come to the arraignment,” she said, “but assuming Peter is able to come home after bail is posted, it would be nice if you and Richard were here for dinner. I’m going to ask Vincent to be with us, too. I think that Peter needs to look around the table tonight and have the reassurance of being with people who love and support him.”

Then Kay broke down and sobbed. “I’m so scared for him, Elaine. I’m so scared for him. I know you are, too.”

“Kay, I would do anything, anything, anything in the world to help Peter. I’ll see you tonight, dear.”

Elaine replaced the receiver. Kay, if only you knew what I’ve already done to help Peter, she thought.