by E J Cochrane
“We didn’t split up because of me.” He frowned before continuing. “My kids are hurting pretty bad right now. I think we’re still in shock.”
Though she could be mistaken, Ray seemed like a man in genuine pain. Grief didn’t equal innocence, of course, but she couldn’t easily dismiss his obvious sorrow over his ex-wife’s death.
“When did she die?” Dottie sounded innocent and concerned, not at all like she was angling for a confession.
“Saturday.”
“And you’re back at work already?”
“I still have to pay the bills.” He bristled at her question, and that flash of ill temper gave Maddie pause.
“Say no more, Raymond. I understand completely.” As if Dottie had worried about finances since she’d landed the first of her loaded husbands. “May I ask, how she died?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I merely wondered if it was sudden or if you’d had time to plan ahead, coordinating childcare and the like. I’m curious, of course, because of the potential impact on your ability to devote yourself to the restoration of my space.”
“Oh.” He seemed to accept her pale excuse. “It was unexpected. She, uh, she,” he cleared his throat. “It was suicide.”
“Why?” She sounded both shocked and sympathetic, an apparently winning combination for Ray.
“I wish I knew.”
“She gave you no indication?” She was appropriately aghast.
“I guess her partner’s murder might have had something to do with it.” He suddenly found the pet health posters adorning Nadia’s walls of great interest.
“So much loss,” she tsked. “Your children must be beside themselves with grief.”
“Not for their bitch stepmother. We all would have been better off if she’d died sooner.”
“You didn’t kill her, did you?”
Maddie’s mouth dropped open at the same time Ray sprang from his chair so forcefully it teetered on its back legs for an agonizing moment before righting itself with a clatter. Several veins popped out on his face and neck, but Dottie didn’t flinch in the face of his rage.
“What?” he barked. “Why are you asking so many questions about my dead wife?”
“Ex-wife,” Maddie chimed in and instantly wished she hadn’t.
He flashed his anger-filled gaze on her, then lunged toward her. Maddie, who had nowhere to go in the tiny room, braced herself for whatever was about to hit her. But before she felt the impact of his rage, the door behind him opened, and his progress was halted by a firm hand on his shoulder. Nadia, who must have heard the commotion, spun him away from Maddie, catching a beefy fist to the face for her trouble. She tumbled backward, the cut beneath her already-swelling eye dripping blood. Enraged and appalled, Maddie leapt onto his back.
He yelled and spun around wildly in his fury, but she clung to him, alternately terrified of being flung into a wall and of increased violence without the minimal resistance she offered. The room whizzed past in a blur as he gyrated wildly and her efforts to subdue him failed utterly. She closed her eyes for a moment to quell her nausea, and when she opened them, a dark, indistinct form crossed her field of vision. Then they tumbled to the ground, and she looked up to find Carlisle standing above him, her umbrella hooked around his ankle and a triumphant look on her face.
“Ninja Mary Poppins,” Maddie muttered in the second before he shoved her away. He flailed his arms and sputtered angrily in his efforts to right himself, but Carlisle shoved him back to the floor with the pointed end of her umbrella as Maddie dodged another of his fists and slid over to Nadia, who sat holding her eye.
“Honey, what did he do to you?” She cradled her face and suppressed the urge to kick Ray where he’d feel it for days. Carlisle had him under control, and it wouldn’t help anything to rile him up again.
“See why I was worried about you?” Nadia looked dazed but smiled weakly.
“I’m so sorry he hit you.”
“I was aiming for you,” Ray snarled, and Carlisle poked him again with her umbrella.
“You just moved to the top of the suspect list, pal.” Dottie glared down at him, and Maddie didn’t have the heart to remind her that he had occupied that position even before he tried to turn their interview into a UFC event.
The door flew open again and Franklin wedged himself into the overfull room. “Should I call the police, Dr. Sheridan?” He held the phone in his hand, ready to save the day.
“I’d rather have an ice pack,” she said, and Franklin disappeared again.
“Can I have one too?” Ray called after him.
“No,” Dottie said, and Carlisle poked him again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to press charges? He did assault you.” And Maddie would feel safer with a jail cell between them and the tempestuous Ray Warner.
“I’d rather not draw any more attention to this incident than we already have, and I don’t want my clients asking questions.”
“Sweetie, you look like you have intimate knowledge of the first rule of Fight Club,” Dottie said. “There will be questions.”
“Wonderful.” She rose and brushed off her pants, and with trembling hands took the ice pack Franklin handed her.
“Let me up, you bitch,” Ray growled and swatted at Carlisle’s umbrella.
“Lower your voice, Mr. Warner, or I will call the police.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “About your eye too. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“Oddly enough, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Nadia knelt next to him. “I hope you’ll talk to these women without giving them any more trouble. I get cranky when I don’t feel my best, and I’d hate to have to take that out on you.” He nodded solemnly. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an arthritic pit bull to tend to.”
She didn’t make eye contact before she left the room. Maddie didn’t want to let her leave, not when she was injured and possibly angry, but she doubted she could do anything in that moment to make things better. She watched her walk away with a mix of affection, admiration, and regret and decided that, if possible, she would make it up to her later.
“What am I supposed to talk to you about?” he asked. “It obviously isn’t paint.”
“Murder.” Since Dottie had already employed the direct approach, Maddie didn’t see any reason for further subterfuge. “And your role in it.”
“I didn’t touch that dyke,” he snarled from his place on the floor.
“Considering your recent outburst and the conclusion you’ve jumped to about which victim we’re talking about, your assertion of innocence means almost nothing, Raymond. Regardless, you’ll have to be more specific as our current investigation, at last count, included five dykes.”
“Technically four dykes and a bisexual,” Maddie said, not at all sure why she felt the need to clarify Lindsey’s status.
“One of whom you struck down in your attempt to assault another. So which lady-loving lady are you claiming not to have touched?”
“Terry. I had plenty of reason to hate her, but I swear I never hurt her.”
“Aside from suing for full custody of your kids,” Maddie pointed out.
He regarded her curiously. “How do you know that? Who the hell are you?”
“We have a mutual acquaintance. Leigh Mathews.”
“I should have known.” He let out a small, bitter laugh. “Terry probably thought I did her a favor.” He seemed calmer, enough for Carlisle to release her hold on him, though she still regarded him with a wary eye. “She didn’t care for my kids. She thought they were brats. Not that I expect you to believe me any more than that detective did, but that’s why I wanted full custody, not to hurt Lindsey or that ugly bitch. It was to protect my kids from Terry.” He laughed again. “Much as I hate to admit it, they were better off when Lindsey first turned queer with Leigh.” Carlisle jabbed him again and he yelped. “You want to know who offed Terry? Talk to their neighbor.”
“You expect
us to believe that sweet little old lady had anything to do with this?”
“All I know is Lindsey hated her. She wanted to move because the old lady was always butting into everybody’s business and making her life hell. According to Lindsey, she caused too much trouble.”
“She’s a gossip with noisy dogs and zero culinary skills. How much trouble could she cause?” Maddie asked.
“Maybe enough to add to the city’s already impressive body count,” Dottie said.
“I guess I need to talk to Esther again.” Maddie sighed. “God, I hope she doesn’t bake.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
At a loss for how to proceed, Maddie took a detour to Leigh’s house after the calamitous interview with Ray. She needed clarity now more than ever, and though she’d meant to call her earlier, like every other part of her day, that hadn’t worked out. Now that Ray had thrown her inquiry into turmoil, she hoped even more earnestly that Leigh could set her currently directionless snooping on a less volatile trajectory.
She knew, of course, she shouldn’t blindly accept the word of a stranger, especially one as temperamental as Ray. While she wanted to believe in his claims of innocence (if for no other reason than to eliminate at least one suspect), his role in the murders was still unclear. At the very least, it seemed he still loved Lindsey too much to hurt her (not physically anyway), and despite the total lack of evidence to back her up, she felt certain there was a connection between Terry’s murder and Lindsey’s alleged suicide. If she was right in surmising that he didn’t kill Lindsey, then she believed someone else must also be responsible for Terry’s death.
But Esther? The idea seemed preposterous. Though her familiarity with Esther was on only slightly less shaky ground than her acquaintance with Ray, she couldn’t believe the old woman was guilty of anything more serious than crimes against flavor. The fact that she had no more evidence for that outlook than her intuitive supposition of Ray’s innocence meant she needed proof. And that meant a visit to the source of most of the current turmoil in her life.
Operating on yet another baseless theory (apparently the cornerstone of her investigative process), she hoped to establish Esther’s innocence by proving she had no connection to Leigh. That process should take no more than a couple minutes, leaving her ample time to tend to her pups, call Nadia to apologize again for the injury she had peripherally caused and (depending on the efficacy of the apology) prepare some magical dinner that would inspire her girlfriend’s forgiveness. Though she wasn’t at all certain what foods best said, “Thanks for voluntarily taking the punch that was meant for me,” she felt confident that a home-cooked meal had decent odds of inspiring leniency in the culinary-challenged Nadia. With any luck, she’d be in bed by ten, hopefully with company who didn’t shed or leave pools of slobber on the blankets.
Leigh, however, clearly misunderstood Maddie’s goals for the evening.
“You knew Esther?” she asked a third time, certain Leigh had misheard the question. They’d already run through her suspect manifest and ruled out most of the people on it, but Esther was a sticking point.
“We weren’t boon companions, but yes, I spent some time with her.”
“Esther Snodgrass,” she clarified on the off chance that Leigh’s social circle included multiple Esthers.
Leigh nodded. “That’s the one.”
“I don’t believe this.” She flopped onto the couch behind her.
“Why would I make that up?”
“Because nothing in my life can go smoothly,” she muttered. Hoping theirs was little more than a passing acquaintance, hardly the foundation for a murderous plot, she opted for more information. “Explain this to me.”
“I ran into her in the hall one day.”
“In what hall?” she asked, sure her friend didn’t mean the hallway Esther shared with Leigh’s ex, a hallway Leigh had no reason to be in.
Leigh offered a remorseful look, and Maddie prepared herself for the worst. “I was leaving Lindsey’s place.”
“When was this?”
“Maybe two months ago? It was right after she married Terry.”
“And you were there why? You thought it might be tacky to offer your best wishes via text message?”
“I wanted to talk to her. I needed to understand what Terry gave her that she didn’t get from me.”
“Oh, Leigh.” Her heart broke once again for her friend. Certainly she had wandered down the same treacherous mental path numerous times, but even at her most desperate and lovelorn, she never actually pursued the painful truth from one of her exes. It was excruciating enough to know she wasn’t desirable. Why go chasing after a catalog of her flaws?
“Don’t look at me like that, Maddie. It was a mistake. I know that, but I just needed to see her, to know she was all right.”
“And?”
“I’m not sure. She didn’t seem unhappy, but I could tell she was tense. She’d started smoking again. I knew as soon as we—” Leigh stopped abruptly, her eyes wide, and Maddie guessed she hadn’t been on the verge of confessing anything virtuous.
“As soon as you what? Kissed your married ex in the home she shared with her spouse?” She raised her eyebrows and waited for Leigh to continue the tale of terrible decision making.
“Made out, really. If Terry hadn’t come home early, I don’t know what else we might have done.” Leigh looked away, pain and shame etched on her face. “Esther was in the hall when Terry threw me out. She took pity on me and invited me in for tea and cookies.”
“As if you hadn’t suffered enough.” She cringed at the cruelty of Esther’s baking as the sole comfort after an undoubtedly harsh encounter.
“Her cookies tasted like raw sewage, but she was so sweet and kind. I liked spending time with her, and I still wanted to be close to Lindsey, so…”
“What did you do?” Confident she’d reached her limit of bombshells in one sitting, she wished she could block whatever Leigh was about to tell her.
“I offered to teach her to bake.”
“It didn’t work.”
“Well, we only had one lesson.”
“Please tell me you started with soufflés.” Leigh shook her head, and her heart sank, realization dawning. “Pies? Tarts? Anything other than your brownies?”
“It seemed like an easy jumping off point.”
“Oh, this is not good.”
“What’s the problem with trying to help a little old lady?”
“Leigh, you taught her how to make the murder weapon.”
She fell heavily onto the couch next to Maddie. “I need a drink.”
“I came here to eliminate Esther as a suspect, not to build a case against her.”
“You really think Esther might have killed Terry?”
“And Lindsey,” Maddie said and explained her theory about Lindsey’s suicide not being suicide at all.
“And you believe Esther could have killed them both? She’s a thousand years old and not exactly the pinnacle of fitness.”
“Neither murder required brute strength. You said yourself that anyone can tamper with an EpiPen.”
“How would she know about Terry’s allergies and her injector?”
“Thin walls and Olympic-level eavesdropping.” She sighed and buried her face in her hands. This was not the plot twist she’d been hoping for.
“But why would she call Lindsey’s suicide into question if she murdered her? Wouldn’t she want people to believe Lindsey took her own life?”
“What risk was there in telling me? I was just a sympathetic stranger with an iron stomach. She couldn’t know I was investigating Terry’s murder or that I suspected her of anything.”
“It still seems like an unnecessary risk.”
“Maybe she’s deranged. How else do you explain weaponizing baked goods?”
“So what does this mean?”
“It means I’m going to have to pay Esther another visit.” She groaned and offered her digestive system a preemptive apo
logy.
Still moderately (and inexplicably) optimistic about a pleasant end to her evening, she called Nadia after leaving Leigh’s, but she got no answer. Under normal circumstances, she would have left a message and waited (not entirely patiently) for a return call. But after the events that had transpired that afternoon, she disregarded the probability that Nadia was with a patient and instead assumed she was angry and ignoring her. Not that she didn’t have reason to be upset—an unwarranted slug to the face could ruffle even the saintliest of saints. But ample justification for her anger did nothing to ease Maddie’s mind.
Neither did a walk with her boys (her typical go-to for peace of mind). It didn’t help that, rather than having time alone with her thoughts and her dogs, she got the mobile equivalent of a block party. All along their winding route, they encountered excessively chatty neighbors who felt the need to discuss in depth such profound topics as the abrupt change in the weather and the rapid passage of time signaled by the approach of Halloween. Like she was trapped inside the world’s least entertaining video game, each time she escaped from one, another appeared.
By the time they evaded Deirdre Dietz (the neighborhood’s reigning busybody champion and unfortunately, one of Bart’s favorite people from whom to solicit attention), Maddie wanted to explore the possibility of becoming an eccentric recluse, but she still had a murderer to catch and, if her romantic history was any indication, a relationship to eulogize. In a vain attempt to keep her mind off the smoldering wreckage of her brief commitment to Nadia, she focused on the equally daunting prospect of solving a double murder before the weekend. She got no further than breaking out her In Case of Emergency bourbon (the bottle of Widow Jane Ten Year her oldest sister had bestowed upon her as a housewarming present) when her doorbell rang.
Mabel trotted in as soon as Maddie opened the door and, after pausing for the requisite attention from her dumbfounded host, headed directly to the tail-wagging duo who waited in the middle of the room. Though Maddie loved how quickly Mabel had grown comfortable in her home and with her boys, she wondered as she watched the dogs’ impetuous romping if she should rearrange her furniture to accommodate the pups but, turning to Nadia, questioned if that would be necessary.