by Gilian Baker
I wasn’t thrilled to hear Doug had been first on the scene or that Ross trusted him with such important tasks. Doug is a nice guy, but he’s not the sharpest crayon in the box. If Ross worried he’d mess up the first murder case of his career , what flubs was Doug capable of? It made sense he had Doug working on it — he he had Doug on the case was one of the few deputies Ross had, even though they had a large area to police . . H e’s not the sharpest tool . I hoped Ross was keeping a close eye on his work.
But I agreed with not understanding why anyone would want to hurt Liz and her family. She and Ron were good people living their lives, raising their family and helping anyone who needed it. Could Connie have been dealing with a multi-personality disorder? That might explain the obvious shifts in her behavior—sweet and compliant at work, nasty and nutso in her personal life. Couldn’t those people compartmentalize? It was something to consider, which reminded me of Liz’s mention of a psychologist.
“What about her shrink? Liz mentioned you’d spoken to him.”
“He isn’t inclined to give us much without a court order. S He s ays th at’s is is his standard operating procedure when a patient dies. It’s a pain, but I understand why he doesn’t want to open himself up to legal issues if we do find relatives . Plus, since we haven’t ruled out she might have taken her own life killed herself , the doc would want to be extra careful . , I would think. Once we get t he court order hat , I’m hopeful he will really I hope he’ll be able to help us understand what made her tick. ”
He gave me one of his best grins . “ ‘Course, I couldn’t give you that kind of information , anyway . Can ’t talk about details of an ongoing case.
“What about her brother? Liz mentioned she had one. Have you gotten in touch with him yet?”
“Yeah, finally. ”
“Guess you can’t tell me about that either, h uh?” I gave him one of my best come - hither looks . He was supposedly at a medical conference—he’s a neurosurgeon or something. Doug’s checking his alibi, but if he was lying, he could have chosen something less public. So I expect it’ll check out.”
Ross trailed off and shook his head and stared at the sky as if the words he wanted were up there. Deducing those looks only worked on Christian . I let him sit in silence for a minute , before I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t see how it can’t be murder. I mean, why would someone choose to take their own life in such a would you kill yourself in such a gruesome way? The stuff tastes terrible, it does horrible things to you and since it doesn’t affect the mind, you know how horrible it is! Even if you wanted to frame someone else, couldn’t you find an easier a better way to do it?”
“I thought the same thing. It sounds like a terrible way to die . ! Either she was determined to hang Liz, or someone, out to dry or someone must have hated her something fierce. I can’t imagine doing that to anyone, even if they were a nasty piece of work.”
We sat in silence for a while, both thinking our own thoughts, though our separate thoughts were running along the same lines: unless Ross could find others she had harassed or stalked, it looked bad for Liz . , even though we both knew in our guts that she couldn’t do something like this.
I broke the silence. “So what’s Liz’s alibi? She said you called her back into the station and too for k a more formal line of inquir y, but I forgot to ask her what she was doing that night y .”
“ I’m sure she’ll tell you anyway , so I might as well. Like most mothers and wives, she was at home with her family when Connie died, which was about six-thirty 6:30 p.m. . That’s when the 911 call came into the switchboard . At least, according to when her neighbor heard her and called the cops .”
“Yes, that would be about when supper was being finished up, washing up was done and homework started for most families.”
“’ C While of c ourse I believe her and Ron, but having your family as your alibi isn’t the strongest you could have. They ’d would be the first to provide a false alibi, and I’ve seen that many times in my career.”
“But you don’t think… I mean, she may have been upset and said she’d love to tear her limb from limb but…” Shoot! I had hoped he hadn’t caught that. I hadn’t meant for it to come out of my mouth. I’d hoped he hadn’t caught that. But he did. I could tell because his eyebrows raised rose .
“No, ‘c of c ourse not . ! I’m just saying it ’s not isn’t something that a jury could assume. It would a have been much better if she she’d would had been at a PTA or Girl Scout troop meeting. Moms still do that stuff, I suppose.”
We sat for a few more minutes in silence before he heaved himself out of the chair. “Well, I should be going. I’ve got things to do, like drive to the law firm to see what I can learn. Thanks for letting me use you as a sounding board, the coffee, Jade. I didn’t stop in for that, but I think it helped me wrap my mind around some of the details better And thank Christian for the use of his tool . Suppose I’ll need to borrow it again, if I ever get this mess cleared up. ”
He picked up his mug and took the last big swig. I didn’t see how our conversation could have helped him. It certainly hadn’t me! It was just more questions that hadn’t been answered yet. I was glad to have more information, such as it was, but I had even more questions now than I’d had before.
“Let me send you off with some coffee, Ross. You can return the travel mug when you get around to it.”
“Thanks, Jade.” He plopped his Stetson back on his head. “Your java sure clears a cloudy head. I’d love to know your secret.”
I didn’t buy it for a minute. He still looked exhausted and worried.
It wasn’t until after he had left that I realize he had never told me why he had come by Chapter Six
After Ross left, I went back to digging. What could I do to help Liz besides taking care of a few domestic chores? I was a smart lady with resources. I could do more than make a meal and watch the kids. I dug down deep into the cool earth, using the excursion exertion to get out some of my frustration. I wondered, as I worked up a sweat, if talking to the neighbor who found Connie would be of any help.
Since the neighbor had placed the 911 call, I was sure they had interviewed her. I’m sure Ross had talked to her and taken her statement or God forbid had sent Doug to do it. He might have already followed up with her about what Connie was like. Shoot! Since Doug was first on the scene, it was he who ’d do ne it. Shoot! I wish ed I would’ve thought to ask him Ross about her. Come to think of it, it was strange she hadn’t come up in our conversation as someone who knew Connie. You don’t live next door to someone in a townhouse without getting to know a little something about them. Even though the houses were separate, the wom e a n had shared common walls, which mea nt ns there was a chance something she may have had overheard something useful .
How long had Connie lived there? I didn’t know the little town well, but it wasn’t far away. Poor Ross. The only reason he was involved was because he was a sheriff. The town where Connie had lived would’ve been out of his jurisdiction had it happened in a more populated area. Well, I didn’t see how it could hurt to talk to the neighbor. Maybe I’d learn something that would help my weary friend.
I’d look into it as soon as I was done in the yard. With this on my mind, and liking the idea more with each passing minute, I called my work done in 10 minutes flat. Christian always says I’m too noisy. But hey, you don’t read and watch as many mysteries as I have over my life without getting the itch to be noisy. And to learn a few tricks about getting to the truth.
Connie had lived in a little burg called Chesterton which is 45 minutes from Aspen Falls. I did a quick search of townhouses there and found there were two, one on each end of town. After finding her address in the online white pages, I plugged it into my GPS app. I was gathering up my notebook and iced tea to head to the car when the phone rang. Shoot! Maybe I shouldn’t answer it. I didn’t recognize the number,
but with the strange happenings, I thought it prudent to answer. I took a deep breath, trying not to sound rushed, and answered. Turns out I was glad I had.
“Hi, Ms. Blackwell? This is Magdalena Hanes from Girls’ Security Crew returning your call.”
“Oh, thanks for getting back to me! Yes, I’d like to set up an appointment to have you evaluate my online security and improve it. I run a profitable online business, and I need to ensure my security is top-notch.”
“I understand. You can never be too careful. When would be a convenient time to meet?”
“I’m not sure how this works. Would you be able to come to my home office? Or should I bring my laptop to you?”
“Well, it all depends on what you need. How about this: let’s set up a time for you to come in and discuss the details? It might be best if you bring whatever computer you do most of your work on too, so that while we talk, I can run a quick check on it. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds perfect! When is your next available opening?”
“How about tomorrow afternoon, say about 2:00 p.m.? I had a cancelation this morning. If that’s not a good time, I’m booked until early next week.”
“No, that’s great. I’d like to get the situation looked at as soon as possible.”
She gave me the address again, and I wrote it down. It would take me less than 15 minutes to get there. We hung up on that happy note, both saying we looked forward to meeting. Now I could go about the rest of day, snooping around… helping Liz, and feel justified in doing so. I smiled, grabbed my pad, cup, and headed out to meet Connie’s neighbor.
My trusty GPS got me to the row of townhouses on the outskirts of Chesterton. That area had once been thriving, but as with so many small towns in America, it was now pathetic. As soon as its young residents were of age, they high-tailed it to the larger cities of the state, some to go to a university, others to go where there were more employment opportunities and more things to do on a Saturday night. On a weekday, the burg looked like a ghost town with its inhabitance at work or in front of the boob tube watching daytime TV.
I parked the Subaru in one of the many empty parking places. These townhomes had been built for blue-collar workers, so most people were no doubt toiling away somewhere, putting in their eight hours. That wasn’t surprising. Our town was a middle-class area full of farmers, ranchers and others who had to work to survive. There were few rich kids in this part of the state.
I walked up to the section where Connie had lived wondering if I should have called first. How did I know her neighbor didn’t work too? I guess in my excitement I hadn’t thought about it. Well, if she wasn’t home, it was a great day for a drive and it was always nice to be out of the house, so I’d call next time to set up a meeting if it came to that.
I rang the doorbell expecting to go home empty handed after having thought about the likelihood of her being at her place of employment, so I was startled when the door flew open and a wild-haired lady stood before me. Realizing I should have come up with a plan while I was driving instead of singing along to ’80s tunes, I felt like a deer in headlights.
“Yes, dear?” Connie’s neighbor was smiling at me as she stood in the doorway waiting to find out what I was selling. She wore an old-fashioned house coat like my grandmother used to wear, along with tube socks and shower shoes on her feet. Her hair was a pure snowy white and reminded me of Phyllis Diller—it was everywhere, like she had been caught in a windstorm after her morning shower.
“Um, hi. My name is Jade Blackwell, and I’d like to talk to you about your neighbor Connie, if you have the time.” I smiled at her, hoping to give off a pure and innocent impression, so she would let me in and spill her guts.
She chuckled. “Dear, I’ve got nothin’ but time. Whatcha want to know? You aren’t the first person to come knockin’ on my door about this horrible business. Who are you with? The police, newspapers?” She looked me up and down. “You don’t look like neither of them types.”
“I’m a friend of the woman who is the nearest thing to a suspect they have for her murder at the moment. I’m also a friend of the sheriff who is investigating. I… I’d like to learn more about Connie because I know my friend isn’t a murderer.” I would have shut the door in my face right then and there.
She looked at me as if considering whether I was telling the truth or was a nut-job who wanted into her home to hack her into little pieces. She cocked her head to the left, looked me up and down again before staring into my eyes in a way that felt as if she could read every naughty thing I’d ever done. I squirmed a little under her scrutiny. She must have decided I didn’t look like an ax murderer, because she flung open her door and gestured for me to come inside.
“My name is Phyllis. Phyllis Buckley. But I don’t know what I can tell ya that’ll help. Connie was a strange bird, but she didn’t deserve what she got.”
“Oh, you don’t think someone killed her?” I asked as she showed me into her living room. Sitting room was a better description. It was like an old-fashioned parlor where people received visitors in the old days. There were doilies on every flat surface, including on the arms and headrest of the chairs and couch.
“Have a seat on the davenport, since it’s the most comfortable, and I’ll go get us some tea.”
“Oh, that would be nice, but please don’t go to any trouble.”
She chuckled again. “Dear, it’s a real treat to have a visitor, even if it’s to discuss this horrible business next door. The least I can do is bring out the teapot.” She moved into the kitchen without another word, leaving me alone in her front room. Tea sounded good. I’d left my trusty Tervis cup in the car and realized I was parched from the stress I’d felt trying to come up with a plausible reason Phyllis should let me, a total stranger, into her home to talk about a murder victim.
While I was waiting for her, I got up and looked around. There were black and white pictures in heavy silver frames in many locations around the room. Everything was dusted to within an inch of its life. Although the furniture was faded and worn from years of use, it was high quality and had been kept nice.
I heard Phyllis puttering around in the kitchen humming to herself. It's a sad day when someone is made so happy by an intruder wanting to learn the gory details of a neighbor's life. I guess that's what it's like to get old. Something to look forward to, I thought with a sigh.
I was still wandering around the room, looking at the knick-knacks and pictures when I heard Phyllis coming my way. Righting a figurine I’d picked up and examined, I headed back to the davenport, so it didn't look like I had been snooping.
“Here we are. I hope you like Earl Grey, since that’s all I got. I like to have a variety so I can have whatever I fancy, but I need to do my shopping still.”
“Oh, I love Earl Gray. But I hope I'm not putting you out. I'd hate to think you couldn't have tea later because I had the last bag.”
She chuckled. "Nope. I always have plenty of this. My grandchildren buy me a box every time they come to visit. Not much imagination, but it's a nice gesture. I guess they think it’s fancy tea. At least they buy the good stuff. Cream and sugar?"
"Yes, please. Just a touch of each."
"Are you a cream in first girl?" She squinted at me as if this answer might determine my trustworthiness.
I had to laugh. It's such an antiquated question. "No way. I'm a cream after girl."
She smiled. "I knew you could be trusted." And we both chuckled.
True tea lovers believe that when you put your cream in the cup—either before or after you pour the tea into the cup—determines something, though I'm not sure what, about your personality. And I swear the tea tastes different when you put the cream in first.
She handed me a chipped, delicate bone china teacup and saucer. She sipped her own and then set the cup down on the coffee table. "So, what would you like to know?"
The niceties were over with. "I don't know. I guess anything that comes to mind. Maybe I’l
l come up with questions once we start talking. It was a spur of the moment decision to come see you.”
"No, that's fine, dear. Well, we've been neighbors for twenty-some odd years. She was always pleasant enough, but underneath, I always picked up a weird vibe...I think that's what you young people call it."
I hadn't been considered a "young person" for a long while. I liked this lady.
"Like what? What type of vibe? Was it something she did or said?"
"Well... no, nothin’ specific, though I saw some strange things every once in a while. She was polite, but I sometimes got the feeling she was patronizing me… this coy smile she’d get sometimes like the cat who’d ate the canary. And in all them years, she never once invited me in.” She shook her head and pursed her lips in disapproval. “Nope. She’d come out to the hallway to talk if I knocked on her door and always shut her door behind her, like she didn't want me to see in." She took another sip of tea, considering her next words.
"I wondered if she was hidin’ her shabby furnishings, but it didn't feel like that… plus over the years she's had a lot of furniture delivered. She's always got packages from Amazon and them other online places coming. Well, she did, I guess." She screwed up her mouth and looked down at her cup.
"What types of things were delivered?"
"Well, now, I'm no nosy neighbor, but to my way of thinkin’, it was a lot of stuff. But my granddaughter, Mattie, showed me how you can get everything delivered through those places now—even groceries. So who's to say what was in them boxes. It coulda been nothing but fancy tea bags the local market don’t carry.” She jerked up her head. “Say… maybe I should look into that. Imagine what kinda tea you could get from a place like that. I'll ask Mattie to help me look for some exotic ones on Amazon when she comes over next week.” She slapped her knee and had a big goofy grin on her face. “Boy, wouldn't it be a hoot to have fine tea shipped here right to my door. I bet there's a whole world of tea I've never tasted."