A Murderer Among Us

by Marilyn Levinson

“Detective Molina told me.”

  “Oh, no!” He sat in his chair and covered his face with his hands. Moments passed before he was calm enough to continue. “My uncle mentioned the herbal supplement to a few women at Twin Lakes. Claire and Doris approached me. I explained it wasn’t yet on the market and would be terribly expensive, but they insisted on buying it ASAP. I swear I made it very clear the capsules were not to be taken by anyone with a heart condition. Obviously, Doris lied to me.”

  Stunned, Lydia asked, “How do you know?”

  “Because when the police questioned me, they asked me if I knew Doris had a weak heart.”

  Lydia was puzzled. “The police questioned you?”

  “They aren’t completely incompetent, you know. Twin Lakes is a close-knit community. People talk. Besides, I never swore anyone to secrecy. I didn’t have to.”

  He returned to his seat and leaned forward. His voice took on the eager, enthusiastic tone he’d used when speaking about the compound on Thanksgiving Day. “Taken properly, these capsules are beneficial. They’re neither lethal nor illegal. I don’t appreciate your threatening me, Mrs. Krause.”

  Lydia felt her ears redden with shame. What she was doing was contemptible. If Steve told Meredith about this conversation, her daughter would probably never speak to her again! But more was at stake than her feelings or Merry’s. She had to make one more stab at ending this relationship. She stood.

  “Does Meredith know you’re a married man?”

  His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

  Lydia pursed her lips. “I see. You forgot to mention that small fact.”

  Steve shook his head, his face suddenly grim. “My wife suffers from severe depression. She’s been at a clinic since last May and isn’t making progress.” He lowered his voice so Lydia could barely hear what he was saying. “They give her so many meds, she sleeps most of the time. I’m not happy about this, but since our insurance ran out and her father’s footing the bill, he calls the shots.”

  Lydia moved toward him and, before she realized what she was doing, touched his arm. “I am sorry, Steve. How awful for you!”

  He nodded, blinking back tears. “It’s worse for Marigold. She’s a wonderful girl and I love her. We knew each other for six months when we married. I had no idea she’d suffered from depression during her teenage years. The miscarriage set it off again worse than ever.”

  Lydia’s heart went out to him. “Merry said you’ve been very supportive of her. Her problems are nothing compared to what you’ve been going through.”

  Steve gave a joyless laugh. “Being with Merry keeps me from thinking of Marigold—if you can understand what I’m saying.”

  “Certainly I do, but Merry knows nothing about your wife’s existence. She thinks she might have a happy life with you.”

  All color drained from his face. “That can’t be! We never talked about being together in the future. I swear I didn’t lead her on!”

  Lydia gave him a bittersweet smile. “Didn’t you know? As soon as a woman’s involved with a man, she thinks about the future.”

  Dazed, Steve got to his feet. “Your coming here is so weird. Merry and I aren’t two kids, you know.”

  “She has two kids,” Lydia said softly.

  “I understand. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt Merry or her children.”

  Lydia reached up and kissed his wet cheek. “Thank you.”

  She drove slowly back to Barbara’s, her sense of relief mingling with sadness. Real life was never black and white, but a wide spectrum of grays. Steve Thiergard had turned out to be a decent young man struggling under a heavy burden her daughter knew nothing about. He’d deceived Meredith by not telling her he was married and had been genuinely shocked to hear that Meredith was considering a future with him. Steve loved his wife and wasn’t thinking divorce—at least right now he wasn’t. The idyllic fantasy world he’d created with Merry to escape from the pain in his life had imploded. Lydia had no doubt he’d let her daughter down gently.

  * * *

  Lydia told Barbara about her visit with Steve then went straight to bed. She slept soundly and woke up refreshed and in good spirits. After breakfast, she thanked Barbara for her hospitality and returned home to call her insurance agent and to wait for the glazier.

  By one o’clock, the new window was installed. With her house restored to order, Lydia felt her apprehension ebb away. After all, she reasoned with herself, the stone thrower might not be the murderer but someone who had seen her with Marshall and didn’t like her befriending a suspected killer. Or it might have been Viv, jealous at having found her in Marshall’s home. The more Lydia considered it, the more likely it seemed that Viv had thrown the stone. As infuriating as that was, at least a woman like Viv wasn’t capable of murder!

  Her fear behind her, her resolution to forgo the investigation forgotten, Lydia reached for the list of names Marshall had drawn up, and concentrated on remembering everything he’d said about each person. The investors seemed to fall into two categories. Most, like Peg and Sally and Bob Marcus, were making slow and steady gains with their investments. The big losers, aside from Doris, were George Linnett, Andrew Varig and John Trevor. George and Andrew had been at the meeting in full view of everyone just before Doris died and couldn’t have been involved in her death. And it was possible Doris had died of natural causes.

  But Claire sure as hell hadn’t. Lydia had no idea if George resented Marshall enough to murder his wife. Andrew had expressed his dislike of the man, both to her and by posting his let’s-get-rid-of-Weill notice on the bulletin board. But Andrew was a physician, sworn to save lives. Would he actually go so far as to kill Claire to take revenge on her husband?

  If Weill was the runaround Lydia knew him to be, he was bound to his marriage more by his wife’s purse strings than heart strings. If a disgruntled investor had killed Claire to wreak revenge on her husband, he’d be getting back at Marshall in the pocketbook where it hurt. Which implied the murderer knew that once Claire was dead, Marshall had no claim to her estate. The murderer, being a resident of Twin Lakes, would have known that Claire’s death would hurt Marshall both emotionally and financially. Lydia shook her head. She was getting nowhere fast.

  What about the absent John Trevor? Everyone said he was in Florida, but that didn’t mean he was there. He could have returned to Twin Lakes, hidden his car in his garage, killed Claire, then left again. Did he hate Weill all that much to plot the murder months in advance?

  Her pulse quickened. Trevor had been furious with Marshall because he’d lost money on investments made at Marshall’s recommendation. His anger must have been stirred up further when he learned Marshall had stolen money from clients in the past. Stirred him up sufficiently to commit murder?

  It was possible. Lydia shook her head at the strange behavior of her fellow humans. She had recently read in the newspaper that a woman spurned by her lover had taken her lover’s son out of school and begun beating him. She probably would have killed him if the police hadn’t gotten wind of it and rescued the poor child, tied up and bleeding in a basement.

  “Enough!” she shouted, causing Reggie to cock his head and stare at her quizzically. “I’m going out! I’ve groceries to buy and errands to run, and tonight I must call Abbie and Todd’s cousin and partake in the wedding festivities, whether they expect me to or not!”

  She rummaged in her pocketbook to make sure she had both keys and sunglasses, and was putting on her jacket when the doorbell rang. She flung open the door and suppressed a gasp when she saw Detective Sol Molina grinning down at her.

  “Hi, Lydia. Coming in or going out?”

  “Going out to run a few errands. They can wait.”

  He squinted his bright green eyes, his whole face a question. “Are you sure? I meant to call after what happened yesterday, but I’ve been on the go all day and didn’t have a free second.”

  “As you can see, both the window and I are
now fine.”

  She ushered him into the living room, where he scrutinized the glass replacement. “The fellow did a nice job.”

  “I think so. Have you eaten lunch?”

  “Coffee and doughnuts, yes. Lunch, no.”

  She headed into the kitchen and called after him. “I’m low on supplies, but I can offer you a bagel cheese sandwich.”

  “That sounds terrific.”

  Lydia pulled out cheese, mayonnaise and a ripe tomato from the refrigerator and asked Sol what he’d like to drink.

  “Tea.”

  She laughed as she cut the sandwich in half. “I didn’t know cops drank tea.”

  “This one does when he’s had his fill of coffee.”

  She boiled water for them both then sat and watched Sol devour his sandwich. He ate neatly and efficiently, learned no doubt, from working on the run. When he’d finished every crumb, he told her, “Mmm, that was delicious. I’m glad I stopped by.”

  “So am I,” she admitted. “I was kind of shook up yesterday. I took your advice and spent the night at Barbara’s place. Did you find out who threw the rock?”

  “I’m sorry to say we haven’t, though we’re working on it. Along with every other aspect of the Twin Lakes case.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  He grinned. “One of the names.”

  “Do you think the incident’s related to the murders?”

  “Murder. Singular. Doris Fein definitely died of a coronary.”

  Lydia paused, then asked anxiously, “Are the herbal capsules she was taking implicated in her death?”

  “The ME doesn’t think so. Doris was under great strain for weeks before her death. And she was extremely agitated when she fled from the meeting.”

  “Steve will be relieved. Last night he—”

  “You spoke to Thiergard last night?” Molina’s voice grew louder with each word. “After the killer or some crackpot told you in no uncertain terms to stop nosing around? What the hell’s wrong with you, Lydia Krause? Do you have a death wish or something?”

  “Of course not!”

  He sighed. “I thought you were going to stop playing Miss Marple and leave the investigating to us.”

  She hesitated, then decided she had no choice but to tell him. “I went to talk to Steve because he and my daughter have been seeing one another. She’s married with a wonderful family. This affair could destroy everything if it doesn’t end now.”

  Molina stared at her in disbelief, then threw back his head and roared. Lydia resisted the impulse to place her fingers around his neck and squeeze.

  “It isn’t funny!”

  The laughter waned and finally died down. “You’re damn right it isn’t. I know because it happened to me.”

  “Oh? Is that why you and your wife divorced?”

  “It was the final spin of a marriage spiraling down. It didn’t help that the guy was another cop on the force.” He made a gruff sound that passed for an ironic laugh.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I wasn’t home much—the usual cop story—and she wasn’t who I thought she was. My only regret is now my daughter lives far away. But you were telling me about yours.”

  Amazing how smoothly he switched channels. “Yes, it turns out my older daughter, Meredith, went to school with Steve Thiergard. She’s out of sorts with herself and her life. He appeared on the scene in time to play the good friend and sympathetic listener. Steve has his own marital problems,” she added.

  “Were you successful in breaking up this soulful relationship?”

  Lydia grimaced. “I think so. Now Steve knows Merry’s taking their relationship seriously, which doesn’t suit his plans. I hope Merry comes to her senses.” She gave him a winsome smile. “I also hope she never finds out I talked to him. She’d kill me if she knew.”

  “You did it out of love.” He leaned over and kissed her lips. “Now I’d better leave. Thanks for lunch—and for your company.”

  She followed him to the front door. He turned to face her.

  “When this is over, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

  “I’d like that,” she answered serenely, as though she were used to being invited out by men.

  He pressed his palm to her cheek. “Take care, Lydia. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Sixteen

  Lydia sang along to the silly lyrics blasting on her car radio. “I’ll love you forever!” she crooned.

  Amazing that all three Krause women were in love! Of course she wasn’t in love, just a bit infatuated with the first man who’d made her feel alive and happy since Izzy died. Abbie was in love with Todd. And Merry thought she was in love with Steve but really loved her husband—or so Lydia prayed.

  She slowed down, not wanting one of Sol’s fellow Men in Blue to pull her over and issue a ticket. Sorry, Officer, I was daydreaming about Detective Sol Molina. Do you happen to know him? She laughed as she lowered the volume and switched to her favorite talk station.

  Lydia zipped through her errands, then called Barbara on her cell phone from the supermarket parking lot and invited her to dinner.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Barbara commented. “Did a certain detective happen to stop by?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did. I fed him lunch.”

  “That’s progress.”

  “Come for dinner. Would you like chicken or meatballs and pasta?”

  “Either is fine, as long as I’m not cooking.”

  “In that case, leave it to me. Come over at six-thirty.”

  “I’ll be there, along with a nice Chardonnay.”

  * * *

  After dinner, Lydia and Barbara carried their coffee mugs into the living room, where they kicked off their shoes and curled up on facing sofas.

  Barbara let out a sigh of contentment. “That was delicious.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’ll notice my restraint. I haven’t mentioned the murders all evening.”

  Lydia laughed. “Until now. For your information, it’s one murder, singular. Sol said Doris died of a heart attack.”

  Barbara rolled her eyes. “So now it’s ‘Sol,’ is it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Anything else you’d like to share with me?”

  Lydia grinned. “Not at this moment.”

  Barbara winked, but didn’t press her. “Any word from Meredith?”

  “She called before to ask if I’d watch the girls this weekend. She’s made reservations for Jeff and herself at a bed and breakfast in Pennsylvania.”

  “Sounds promising,” Barbara said.

  “At least she’s making an attempt to get her marriage back on the right track. I hope she’s not merely going through the motions.”

  “Don’t be negative. What’s new with Abbie?”

  “All’s well. She phoned to say Todd’s cousin would like to talk to me to discuss plans for the wedding.”

  “You’ll be busy with that the next few weeks. Too busy to get into trouble investigating.”

  Lydia sipped her coffee. “There’s nothing more I can do. I’ve thought about who might have killed Claire and why. The only new possibility is John Trevor. Marshall said he was angry after losing a bundle on some investments he’d touted.”

  Barbara shrugged. “I doubt John would kill someone’s wife over a few thousand dollars he could easily write off as a tax loss. He’s an amiable sort of man.”

  “You never know what fury rages inside a person who feels he’s been taken.”

  “Kind of like a woman scorned.”

  “Kind of,” Lydia agreed.

  “And he’s been in Florida since the beginning of October.”

  “So we’ve been led to believe.”

  Barbara laughed. “Have you shared this suspicion with Molina?”

  Lydia shook her head.

  “That’s good. I don’t want him to get the impression yo
u’re a loon.”

  “I have no brilliant ideas on the subject. I’ll wait a few days, then tell Marshall I can’t help him.”

  “Good. Keep out of trouble so no one will get the urge to throw more rocks. Concentrate on your family.”

  “That’s precisely what I intend to do.”

  * * *

  Todd’s cousin Karen was delighted to hear from Lydia. She invited her to come for an overnight visit so they could get to know one another and arrange wedding plans.

  Lydia accepted with alacrity. She’d take the ferry to Connecticut Wednesday morning and be back home Thursday night. She’d explain to Len that a family affair had called her out of state. Lydia giggled, eager to set out. A break from Twin Lakes was exactly what she needed.

  Karen, a tall, large-boned woman with four grown children living in four different states, worked for a computer firm on a part-time basis. Her husband had just flown off to the Far East for a three-week business trip, leaving her on her own in their rambling twelve-room colonial home.

  The two women took to each other immediately. They talked nonstop about their families, their outlook on life and, of course, the wedding. Karen outlined her plans and said she was open to suggestions. Lydia liked the simplicity and good taste of her arrangements and offered a few minor alterations, which Karen welcomed as strokes of genius. After an hour, Lydia finally gave up trying to coax Karen to accept her offer to share the wedding expenses.

  “I consider Todd my fifth child. He’s lived with us for years. I want to do this for him and Abbie.”

  “All right,” Lydia agreed, “but when they return to the U.S. for a visit, the party’s at my place.”

  “Agreed,” Karen said, offering her hand.

  Thursday afternoon, as Lydia hugged Karen and thanked her for her hospitality, she felt she was saying good-bye to a dear friend.

  At home she made a big fuss over Reggie, who needed much soothing for having been left alone. She called Meredith and Barbara to let them know she’d arrived safely. Nothing of importance had transpired while she was gone, Barbara told her. Quiet as a grave. She waited until Abbie was home from work, then called to say she and Karen had become fast friends and the wedding plans were coming along.