Not a Happy Family

by Shari Lapena

  He steps up to the podium and waits for the photography to die down and for the crowd to settle. Then he says, “Thank you for coming. I am Detective Eric Reyes of Aylesford Police. We are conducting an investigation into the murders of Fred and Sheila Merton in their home in Brecken Hill. Their bodies were discovered there yesterday. At this time, we appeal to the public for any information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons responsible for the murders of Fred and Sheila Merton. In particular, we are interested in speaking to anyone with knowledge of a pickup truck, dark in color with orange or yellow flames on the side panels, that was seen driving away from the direction of the Mertons’ property on the night of Sunday, April twenty-first.” He takes a breath and continues. “We are encouraging members of the public to call the tip line.” He recites the number slowly and repeats it. “We will not rest until the perpetrators of this awful crime are brought to justice. Thank you.”

  Reyes steps away from the podium. The reporters start calling out questions, but Reyes turns his back and walks inside the station.

  * * *

  • • •

  audrey stancik watches the press conference on television. It reveals precious little. There was more information in the Aylesford Record that morning. Some enterprising reporter had found out that the bodies were discovered by Irena, and that Sheila was strangled and Fred was stabbed numerous times and his throat slit. So now she knows. Reading that, Audrey found herself shaken. The house had been ransacked and valuables were missing. There were no further details. When Audrey had been at Dan’s the day before, no one had told her that Irena had found them, and how they’d been killed. And Irena was right there. She’d had to get it from the newspaper.

  Audrey gets in her car and drives downtown to see her brother’s lawyer, Walter Temple. She doesn’t have an appointment, but she’s sure he won’t turn her away, not under the circumstances. She simply can’t wait another moment.

  Walter sees her right away. They’ve known each other for many years. They greet each other solemnly. He tells her how sorry he is about Fred and Sheila. But the attorney seems noticeably ill at ease, and it makes Audrey nervous.

  She summons her courage and says, “Fred came to see you last week about his will, didn’t he?”

  She’s expecting a quick confirmation, but Walter averts his eyes and starts straightening the edges of the papers on his desk. She’s worrying in earnest now. He clears his throat and says, “I was away all last week unexpectedly. I didn’t see him.”

  She feels the blood drain from her upper body; Walter’s face swims in front of her eyes. “What?”

  “Apparently he wanted to see me, but, as I was unavailable, he made an appointment for this week—he was supposed to see me today, at ten o’clock. But he died before . . .” His voice trails off delicately.

  Audrey sags in the chair, all her hopes shipwrecked. “But that can’t be,” she protests. “He promised he would do it last week.”

  “Yes, he did try to come in, but I was away on business. I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe he saw another lawyer?”

  “Apparently not, no.”

  “He was going to change his will,” she says, her voice rising, all her plans crashing to pieces around her. “He promised me. He was going to change it so that I got half and his kids shared the other half. And if I died before him, my share was to go to my daughter.”

  Walter looks back at her in obvious discomfort, but it’s nothing to what she’s feeling. “I’m truly sorry, Audrey. But he died before he could make any changes to his will. He couldn’t have known what was going to happen—”

  She sits there stunned, not moving, disbelief turning to rage. It was her one shot at having something for herself, and for her daughter. And now it’s gone, just like that. Just like Fred. And now all his hard-earned money is going straight to his three spoiled, undeserving kids. “She knew!” Audrey cries.

  “What?” the attorney says, startled.

  “Sheila knew. She knew Fred was going to change his will to give me half. She was there—and she didn’t like it. She never liked me.” He’s clearly uncomfortable, wanting no part of this. “You know what must have happened, don’t you?” she says. He meets her eyes warily. “She told the kids what their father was going to do. And one of them murdered them both before he could do it.” She adds bitterly, “And they never saw it coming.”

  “That’s absurd, Audrey,” Walter says, turning pale.

  She gets up abruptly and leaves the office without another word. Descending in the elevator, in her fury, she’s certain. Sheila must have told one of them. Which one? Or maybe she told all of them. And one of them murdered Fred and Sheila without a shred of regret.

  She’s going to figure out who if it’s the last thing she ever does. And they will pay.

  * * *

  • • •

  reyes and barr drive to the medical examiner’s office, not far from the police station. He parks in the lot and they enter the low brick building.

  The two detectives make their way to the autopsy room. The sight of the gleaming metal counters below the high row of windows, the bodies resting on the matching metal tables, the awful smell—Reyes never really gets used to it. He slips a cough drop into his mouth. He glances at Barr, but she seems unbothered. Sometimes he wonders if she has any sense of smell at all, or if it’s impaired somehow.

  One of the forensic pathologists, Sandy Fisher, is standing over a body, garbed in full protective gear. “Good morning, detectives,” she says.

  They’ve come right in the middle of her work on Fred Merton, Reyes notes. The body cavity is still open, and there’s a stomach sitting on the weigh scales. He turns away, focusing on the covered corpse farther down the room, behind the pathologist. That must be Sheila Merton.

  “I’ve finished with her,” Sandy says, nodding over her shoulder, “but I still have a lot to do on this one.”

  She steps away from the open corpse and beckons them over to the other body. The pathologist’s assistant pulls down the cover from Sheila Merton’s corpse to reveal her upper body. “Pretty straightforward,” Sandy begins, as they stare at the unfortunate woman. “Ligature strangulation, most likely with something very smooth, like an electrical cord.”

  “And there’s no sign of it anywhere, or of it having come from anywhere inside the house,” Reyes says thoughtfully. “So whoever killed her likely had it with him. There was no sign of a break-in—he might have known it would probably be Sheila who would answer the door.” He pauses for a moment, gazing at Sheila Merton’s dead face. “Someone showed up on that doorstep wearing gloves, thick socks and no shoes, holding something in his hands to strangle her with. Then, when she was out of the way, he grabbed the knife in the kitchen and waited for Fred.”

  Barr nods thoughtfully. “Possibly someone who knew them, knew the house.”

  Reyes asks, “Time of death?”

  “Well, you know that’s always just a rough estimate,” Sandy says. “But my best guess is somewhere between ten o’clock Sunday evening and six o’clock Monday morning.” She adds, “I’ll know more when I’ve finished with him. But I can confirm that the knife from the kitchen block was indeed the murder weapon.”

  19

  Back at the station, Reyes and Barr learn that none of the security cameras at the Merton house were working. The cleaning lady was right. The safe has been opened, and seemed undisturbed. There was no jewelry inside. The preliminary forensic report offers little new information to help them. Reyes scans it quickly. There are numerous sets of fingerprints in the house, especially in the kitchen, which you would expect after a dinner party. Prints will be obtained from each of the family members and Irena today for exclusionary purposes—perhaps there will be a strange print that they can’t place, but Reyes is not expecting it. The killer was obviously very careful. They’ll have to
track down Jake as well.

  Reyes grabs his jacket off the back of a chair and says to Barr, “Come. We’re going to talk to Fred and Sheila Merton’s lawyer.”

  They drive the short distance downtown. It comes as no surprise that Fred Merton used one of the top firms in Aylesford. Walter Temple is busy when they arrive, but a flash of their badges does the trick. “He’ll see you now,” the receptionist says after only a couple of minutes and leads them to his office.

  Walter Temple extends his hand to each of them as they introduce themselves and offers them each a seat before sitting down behind his desk. “I imagine you’re here about Fred and Sheila,” he says.

  Reyes nods. “Yes. We’re investigating their murders.”

  “I’m just gutted by this,” the attorney says, visibly distressed. “Fred was a friend, as well as a long-time client.”

  “What can you tell us about him?” Reyes asks.

  “Fred Merton was a hugely successful businessman. He made a fortune in robotics, then sold his company—Merton Robotics—for another fortune last year. His net worth, at the time of his death, after taxes, was roughly twenty-six million dollars.”

  Reyes says, “That’s a great deal of money.”

  “It is,” the lawyer agrees. “Sheila leaves about six million as well.”

  “Did Fred Merton, or his wife, Sheila, have any enemies that you know of?”

  The lawyer leans back in his chair and averts his eyes, looking down at the blotter on his desk. “No, I don’t think so. They were well liked, respected. Fred could be very charming.” He lifts his eyes and adds, “They were good people. My wife and I dined with them regularly.”

  “Did you notice anything different about either of them recently? Did they seem worried about anything? Mention anything unusual?”

  The attorney shakes his head and frowns. “Not that I noticed. But you should ask my wife. She’s much more perceptive about these things, although she never mentioned anything to me. She and Sheila were close. My wife—Caroline—she’s at home, if you’d like to speak to her.” He writes out his address for them and hands it to Reyes.

  Reyes asks, “Who inherits the Merton fortune?”

  “I suppose I can tell you that,” the attorney replies. “Sheila’s wealth goes equally to their three children. Under Fred’s will, there are a couple of specific bequests, but the bulk of the estate is to be equally divided among his children.”

  “What were the specific bequests?”

  “One million to Fred’s sister, Audrey Stancik. One million to the long-time housekeeper, Irena Dabrowski.” The attorney clears his throat. “There’s something else you should know,” he says. “There are four children named in Fred’s will, not three. Fred included a child he had fathered out of wedlock as one of the equal beneficiaries. A woman by the name of Rose Cutter.” He adds, “This is going to come as a rather unpleasant surprise to the legitimate children. Probably a nice surprise for her, though. I don’t think she has any idea.” He asks, “Would you be able to put off talking to her until the other children get the news from me? That will probably be early next week, after the funeral.”

  “I think we can do that,” Reyes says, beginning to rise from his seat.

  “There is one other odd thing,” the lawyer says, and Reyes sinks down again. “Dan Merton called me yesterday afternoon. Fred’s sister, Audrey—apparently she was over at Dan’s house yesterday with the family after the news of their deaths got out. She told them that Fred had changed his will to give her half.” He chews his lip and adds, “She was just here, this morning, and told me the same thing. She was quite adamant that he’d meant to do it last week.”

  Reyes raises his eyebrows, skeptical.

  “I know, it sounds unlikely, but I was called away suddenly all last week, and when I got back, I noticed that he’d tried to see me. When I was unavailable, my secretary made an appointment for him to see me this week. That appointment was to be this morning, at ten o’clock. I guess we’ll never know for sure.”

  * * *

  • • •

  after the detectives leave, Walter remains at his desk, reflecting uneasily on the situation. He’s rather disturbed by what Audrey had said. And the detectives being here—well, he’s a corporate and estate attorney, he’s not accustomed to dealing with detectives conducting a murder investigation.

  He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with the detectives, not wanting to speak ill of the dead. He hadn’t said anything that was untrue. Fred could certainly be charming, and he didn’t have any enemies that Walter knew about, but he did have an edge to him. Fred wasn’t always a fine fellow.

  He hadn’t told the detectives everything Audrey had said, either—accusing Fred’s own children. It was too awful to mention. Too awful to imagine.

  20

  Walter’s wife, Caroline Temple, is visibly upset about the violent murder of the Mertons. She insists on serving tea to the detectives in proper china cups, as if to pretend everything is normal. But Reyes understands—there’s nothing normal about being interviewed by homicide detectives in your living room for a woman like Caroline Temple.

  “How well did you know Sheila and Fred?” Reyes asks.

  “We knew them socially for many years—decades, actually.”

  “Your husband said you and Sheila were close.”

  “Did he? Well, it probably looked that way to him. But we weren’t particularly close. She wasn’t one to bare her soul. Walter was friends with Fred, but to be honest, I didn’t care for him.”

  “Why didn’t you like Fred?” Barr asks.

  She hesitates a moment and says, “You know men.” She gives an apologetic glance at Reyes. “It’s all about business and golf. They don’t really get into the personal stuff. But Sheila told me things that made me dislike him.”

  “Such as?” Reyes asks.

  “I don’t think he was an easy man to live with. He had a mean streak.” She takes a sip of her tea. “I mean—the way he sold the business out from under his son!” She tells them all about it, how hard Dan had worked, how upset he’d been, how he hasn’t found subsequent employment. How Fred told them he did it so that Dan wouldn’t run his business into the ground. “People don’t treat their kids that way. Sheila wasn’t happy about it, I can tell you that.”

  “Did she try to change his mind?” Reyes asks.

  “Nobody could change Fred’s mind. He was stubborn. I doubt she even tried. She never stood up to him.”

  Barr asks, “Did Sheila seem particularly worried lately?”

  “Actually, yes,” Caroline says. “She told me that she’d started taking medication for anxiety.”

  “Did she tell you why?” Barr presses.

  Caroline shakes her head. “No. I tried to get her to open up, but Sheila—she’d offer a bit and then withdraw. Stiff upper lip and everything. Me, I’m a puddle when I’m upset.” Caroline pauses, as if remembering something. “She did tell me, the last time I saw her, that the kids weren’t going to be happy about their father’s will—that it wasn’t going to be what they expected.”

  Reyes flicks a glance at Barr. “How so?”

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me any more than that. As I said, she was rather private.” She stops to pour more tea and then continues. “The kids didn’t get along with their father, and it seemed to be getting worse. None of them liked him—she told me that. Fred seemed to enjoy mistreating them. The only thing he cared about was himself.” She leans forward, about to impart something important. “Between you and me,” Caroline says, “I’m pretty sure Fred Merton was a psychopath. Apparently lots of very successful businessmen are.”

  * * *

  • • •

  ted hasn’t gone into work at his dental practice this morning. He’s stayed home to offer emotional and practical support to his wife as she arranges a doub
le funeral. Catherine is constantly on the phone, and people are coming to their door, offering condolences and leaving food. There are so many interruptions that Catherine is complaining that it’s hard to get anything done. Her laptop is open on the coffee table to catch any news updates on the murders.

  Ted tries to help as much as he can, as he studies his wife and frets about what to do. He’s certain the police will want to formally interview her, and possibly him, as well. What the hell is he going to tell them? If he can’t get Catherine to change her mind, does he lie too? Say she was home with him all night? He doesn’t like it. He thinks she should come clean with the detectives.

  But she’s already lied to them. Such a stupid thing to do—and he’s angry at her for it. He doesn’t understand her reasons. From what he can see, if the detectives think it’s one of the adult children, Dan is the most obvious suspect. He was behaving a little strangely yesterday. But one could argue that Catherine is behaving strangely too.

  He thinks about the phone call. She called her mother’s cell phone on Sunday night, from her own cell. There will be a record of it. Won’t they ask her about that? They will see the time of the unanswered call and might think her parents were dead already, when Catherine and he both know that they were alive for some time after that. All of this runs through his mind as he stands on the doorstep accepting a covered dish from family friends.

  He sees Jenna’s car pull up on the street while he manages some pleasantries to the well-wishers. They are beginning to leave as Jenna reaches the door, but then they have to hug her and offer their sympathies all over again.

  “How’s she doing?” Jenna asks him when they’re finally gone.

  She means Catherine. Ted looks at Jenna with new eyes, wondering why his wife is afraid to trust her. What history do they have? “Okay, considering,” Ted says. “I’m glad you’re here. How are you doing?”