by N L Hinkens
They sat down on the couch in the family room while the officers remained in the hallway talking on their walkie-talkies. A moment later, they stepped into the room and took their seats.
“I just have a few follow-up questions for you from your interview with Detective Saunders,” Officer Bowman said with a tight smile aimed at Jo.
“Of course,” she replied, reaching for Liam’s hand.
“Detective Saunders mentioned that you were adamant Sarah was not the type to commit suicide. As you know, we found a suicide note which seems to contradict that.”
“Robbie said it was vague,” Liam interjected.
The officer nodded. “Suicide notes aren’t always detailed explanations of the deceased’s state of mind. Some are more generic, talking about not wanting to live, wiping out the past, that kind of thing.”
“Couldn’t someone else have written it?” Jo suggested.
“We’re trying to establish that. We’re having it analyzed.”
“Where did you find the note?” Jo asked. “Robbie never mentioned seeing anything in the house.”
Officer Bowman pressed her lips together. “Sarah was clutching it in her hand.”
Liam frowned. “If the handwriting expert confirms she wrote it, that seems pretty cut and dried, doesn’t it?”
“Yes and no,” Officer Bowman replied. “The suicide note was mostly illegible. The ink had run—either from tears or some kind of liquid that was spilled on it. Unfortunately, we can only make out a couple of lines. It’s not conclusive, although it does seem to hint at suicide.”
“So if Sarah didn’t write it, is it possible someone might have set it up to look like a suicide?” Jo persisted.
“The only prints on the hosepipe are Noah’s.” Officer Bowman grimaced. “It’s possible he killed Mrs. Gleeson first and then committed suicide himself. We’ll need to wait on the autopsy results to find out exactly how she died.”
Jo shook her head. “I can’t believe Noah Tomaselli was capable of murder. He was a good kid.” Even as the words fell from her lips, doubt niggled at her. Did she know him well enough to make that judgement? What if he’d found out about the baby and was afraid Sarah would leave him once she knew? He’d been drinking vodka that night. Maybe he’d been doing drugs too. Could he have killed Sarah and then himself in a drug-induced rage?
Officer Bowman flashed her a sympathetic smile that seemed to say she’d seen too much in her career to rule anything out. “I understand you set up a counseling appointment to see Noah on Thursday but he never showed up. What was the appointment for?”
Jo shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Liam seemed to sense her discomfort and squeezed her hand softly. “I needed to make sure he was okay after the altercation with Mia, and to take his statement about what happened. Technically, I witnessed an assault and staff members are obligated to document any such incidents.”
“Did you attempt to contact him when he didn’t show up for the meeting?”
“No, he was absent that day. I figured he’d forgotten all about it.”
Officer Bowman consulted her notebook. “Mrs. Murphy, were you aware of any strain at all in the relationship between Sarah Gleeson and her husband, Robbie?”
“Nooo...” Jo hesitated. She’d dodged that question when Detective Saunders had asked it, but now was not the time for pat answers. Sarah was dead, and Jo needed to do whatever she could to assist the police in finding out what had happened. “Well, she did mention a couple of days ago that things weren’t always as they seemed between her and Robbie, something about spouses getting the wrong end of the stick at times. I thought she was just trying to make me feel better because I told her …“ She broke off and shot Liam an apologetic glance. “I told her I was having communications issues with my husband.”
Liam raised his brows but said nothing.
“And now, after what’s happened?” Officer Bowman pressed. “Do you think it’s possible Sarah could have been hinting at something else?”
Jo squirmed beneath the officer’s penetrating gaze. “I suppose so. But there’s nothing to suggest that Sarah and Noah were having an affair, other than the fact that they were found together.”
Officer Bowman exchanged a quick glance with her partner. “I’m afraid that’s not entirely true. They’d been texting each other over the past several months. It’s clear from the texts they were involved in an illicit relationship.”
Jo’s jaw dropped. “But, how’s that possible? Robbie would have found out about it. He and Sarah knew each other’s passwords.”
“They used burner phones.” Officer Bowman tightened her lips. “Mrs. Murphy, this is important. Do you ever remember seeing Sarah with a second phone?”
12
Jo sat at the kitchen table, fingers clamped around a mug of hot tea that Liam had set in front of her after the officers left.
“I shouldn’t have told them about her mother’s cell phone,” Jo groaned. “It had nothing to do with anything, and now the police are going to think she was trying to cover up the fact that she had a second phone.”
“You did the right thing, honey,” Liam countered. “You can’t hide anything from the police that might turn out to be important later.”
“Barb has Alzheimer’s, Liam. How is her phone important?”
Liam averted his gaze looking uncomfortable. “We don’t know anything for sure. Let’s face it, Jo, you’ve no way of knowing if that was Barb’s phone or if Sarah was lying to you.”
Jo stared down at the steaming liquid in her mug as if she could somehow discern the truth in the curling, white tendrils that rose from it. Had Sarah lied to her? Had her free-spirited friend been living a double life all along that no one else knew about? And had she talked a vulnerable seventeen-year-old into committing suicide with her?
“Will the school be closed tomorrow?” Liam asked, stirring her from her thoughts.
Jo pushed her mug aside. “No, the police need to conduct more interviews. Ed sent out a text saying we’ll be closed the day of the funerals.”
Liam frowned. “I’ll have to get time off work for Sarah’s funeral. Will you be okay going to Noah’s service by yourself?”
“I think you should go too. Didn’t you say you knew his father?”
Liam shrugged. “I met him once at a charity event. I’d hardly call that knowing him. But, if you want me to be there with you, I’ll find a way to make it happen.”
Jo pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I know you’re super busy at work. Let me find out if the other teachers’ spouses are going first.”
“What about the appointment with the adoption lawyer on Tuesday afternoon. Do you need me to go with you to that?” Liam asked.
Jo squinted at him, aghast. “I totally forgot about it in the middle of all this.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I feel so guilty pursuing the adoption after what’s happened. It seems … almost disrespectful. Maybe I should postpone the appointment.”
Liam placed a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t forget about the baby in the midst of everything that’s happened. We made a promise to Mia and her mother. We can’t let them down. And now that the father of Mia’s baby is dead, there’s no chance of them reconciling, sad as that is. The baby needs us now more than ever.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Jo drew in a deep breath. “I don’t think you need to be at the appointment. I can bring all the paperwork home for you to sign.”
Liam shot her a grateful look. “Great, it’s gonna be tough enough to get off work for the funerals with everything else I have going on.”
Jo got to her feet. “Not as tough as it’s going to be for me to get through school tomorrow. I should get an early night.” She kissed Liam on the cheek and dumped the remnants of her tea in the sink before making her way to bed.
Monday morning went exactly as Jo had predicted. The female students who flooded her office were inconsolable, and even some of the tougher guys on the football t
eam had tears in their eyes when they came to see her. They all had questions about why Noah and Sarah had been discovered in the same car, but Jo’s standard response was always, “It’s an ongoing investigation. They need to conduct autopsies first to establish the cause of death. The police will keep us informed.”
At lunchtime, Jo remained in her office to catch up on her reports, which were rapidly falling behind. As she took the first bite of her sandwich, Ed McMillan stuck his head around her door. “Mr. and Mrs. Tomaselli want to see you this afternoon.”
Jo swallowed without chewing, almost choking in the process. “Me?” She flinched at the high-pitched tone to her voice. “What about?”
“They’re trying to piece together Noah’s last days to determine exactly what happened leading up to his death. I think they’d like to hear from you directly what transpired during that blowup on campus between Noah and Mia.”
“I can’t tell them anything other than what I already told the police.”
Ed waved a dismissive hand. “Just be empathetic. It’s understandable that they want to talk to everyone who interacted with their son in his last days.”
“Yes, of course,” Jo said, flustered. After Ed exited the room, she wrapped her sandwich back up with shaking fingers. Her appetite was gone, her stomach churning with apprehension. How could she look Noah’s parents in the eye knowing she was planning to take the grandchild they didn’t know existed? And what if they found out later? She’d convinced herself the adoption was a good thing, but the way she was going about it was wrong. With a weary sigh, she tossed the remainder of her sandwich in the trash. She’d given her word to Mia. She couldn’t betray her confidence. There was no going back now.
A little before three that afternoon, Sérgio and Lydia Tomaselli appeared like silent specters in Jo’s doorway, Sérgio’s large frame blocking the light. Jo almost jumped out of her skin, then quickly composed herself. She stood and greeted them before ushering them inside. “Can I get either of you a coffee or some water?”
Sérgio pulled his bushy black brows together and glanced at his wife, before shaking his head. “No, thank you. We’re fine.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Jo said. “If there’s anything at all I can do to help, please let me know.”
“Thank you,” Sérgio replied. “We realize you’re inundated today, and we appreciate you taking the time to see us.”
Jo gave a small nod of acknowledgment. She was fighting to keep from shaking. Expensively dressed and accessorized, Noah’s parents were every bit the striking couple Noah and Mia had made, but their eyes were filled with unspeakable grief, a depth of grief Jo was only too familiar with.
Lydia sniffled into the crumpled tissue in her hand, the rings on her fingers glinting under the fluorescent light. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”
Her husband wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders as he addressed Jo. “We’d like to hear from you about the altercation you broke up between Mia and Noah—the day before he disappeared.”
“Well, let’s see.” Jo interlaced her fingers on the desk in front of her to keep from trembling. “I was on my way to the staff break room when I heard shouts and some kind of commotion coming from the student locker area. I headed over there and elbowed my way through the students to see what was going on.” She paused and furrowed her brow. “Mia was beating her fists on Noah’s chest. When I say beating, it was more a frustrated pummeling than anything remotely close to hurting him.”
“How did Noah respond?” Sérgio asked.
“He didn’t lay a hand on Mia,” Jo assured him. “In fact, he tried to step out of her reach more than once, but the crowd was pressing in around them. He seemed more embarrassed by the incident than anything else.”
Sérgio pursed his lips, digesting this. “Do you have any idea why Mia was so angry with him?”
Jo took a moment to consider how best to soften the blow of her answer. “She seemed to be under the impression that he’d been cheating on her.”
Lydia let out a few muffled sobs and leaned her head into her husband’s shoulder.
Jo squeezed her fingers together. However difficult this was for her, it paled in comparison to the excruciating pain Noah’s parents were enduring.
“What exactly did Mia say?” Sérgio asked, his voice more gravelly than before as he fought to keep his emotion in check. “Did she mention … a teacher, or an older woman?”
“No, nothing like that. She accused Noah of lying and implied that he’d been cheating on her for several months.” Jo hesitated and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if there was any truth to her accusations or not. I’m only repeating what she said.”
Sérgio nodded gravely. “I understand, and I appreciate your honesty. As you can imagine, this has been a devastating shock for us, none of it makes any sense. Noah’s never been depressed a day in his life, and he never mentioned wanting to end his relationship with Mia. He was besotted with that girl, despite our reservations.”
Jo frowned. “Can I be so bold as to ask why you had reservations?”
Sérgio rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Mia wasn’t always the best influence on our son. He started drinking after he met her. It’s been a sore subject in our house.”
“She could be demanding, too,” Lydia piped up. “Expensive gifts, eating out—that kind of thing. It put a lot of pressure on Noah.”
Sérgio threw a darting glance at his wife. “Lydia and I felt they were too young to be so serious, but we’d sort of accepted the fact that they were one of those high school sweetheart couples who would go on to get married.”
Jo fixed a sympathetic smile on her lips. “I think we all kind of thought that.”
An awkward silence fell over them. There would be no white wedding now—only a funeral. Mia would never become the Tomasellis’ daughter-in-law, and Noah would never become a father. And for that Jo couldn’t help but feel grateful, despite the tragic circumstances surrounding his death.
Sérgio coughed and cleared his throat, before getting to his feet. “Well, we won’t take up anymore of your time.” He leaned across the desk and shook Jo’s hand firmly.
Lydia gave a frail smile, her eyes glistening. “We would love it if you could attend the funeral mass.”
“Yes, of course I’ll be there,” Jo said. “I believe all of Noah’s teachers are planning on attending.”
“Thank you, you’re very kind,” Lydia whispered through her tears. “We’ll let the school know as soon as a date’s been set. It’s all a bit up in the air, with the coroner being involved and all.”
Jo watched as Sérgio tenderly guided his wife out of the office and down the corridor, their grief evident even in their gait. She sank back down at her desk, heart thundering like hooves in her chest. Evidently, the Tomasellis knew nothing about the unborn child in Mia’s womb. Her secret was safe for now.
On Tuesday after work, Jo drove to the other end of town for her appointment with the adoption lawyer. She still had mixed feelings about the appropriateness of keeping the appointment days before her baby’s father would be buried, but she told herself it was the right thing to do. She had already set things in motion. Preparations had to go ahead. Given everything that was going on, she felt somewhat ill-prepared for the interview. She’d intended to write up a list of burning questions to ask the lawyer, but her mind was in a complete fog and she couldn’t recall any of them. Hopefully, the lawyer would be competent enough to address all the pertinent issues without much prompting on her part. She was thankful she wasn’t meeting with the social worker today, she had a feeling her emotions would get the better of her, making her look like a potentially flaky mother—too unstable to raise a child.
She pulled into the parking lot outside the law offices of Parsons & Jeffrey a full fifteen minutes before her appointment. After turning off the engine, she lifted up the flap on her visor to expose the vanity mirror and took a moment to comb her hair and slap on some lip
gloss before reaching for her purse. She could at least look put together on the outside even though she was a hot mess on the inside. As she headed toward the office, a couple around her own age walked out, hand-in-hand. They gave her a conspiratorial smile in passing, the sparkle in their eyes letting her know they were on their way to adopting a child of their own. Jo offered a stiff smile in return. She’d been disappointed too many times in the past to begin celebrating this early in the process. It wasn’t a done deal yet. She pushed open the door to the lobby and made her way to the reception desk. A well-groomed young woman with oversized black glasses and flawless skin greeted her in a polished tone. “Good afternoon. How can I help you?”
“I’m Jo Murphy. I have an appointment with Derek Parsons.”
“Certainly, I’ll let Mr. Parsons know you’re here. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine.” Jo headed over to the tufted lounge chairs seated in a symmetrical grouping in one corner of the room. Picture lighting highlighted the artwork on the walls—a curious mixture of black-and-white drawings of courthouses through the centuries, and vibrant color photographs of local wildlife and fauna.
After a couple of minutes, a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair appeared in the reception area. He approached Jo and held out a hand. “Mrs. Murphy, delighted to meet you. I’m Derek Parsons. This way, please.” He gestured for Jo to go ahead of him. “My office is the first door on the left.”
Jo stepped into a modest-sized room with monochromatic furnishings and took a seat at the oversized desk. Derek pulled a chair out and sat down opposite her. He moved a stack of papers aside before placing a thin file in front of him and opening it. “So, I understand you and your husband have agreed to adopt a friend’s baby, is that correct?”