by Mona Marple
“I really thought she loved me! How long was it going on for? That’s what I want to know!”
Bobby peered into the lounge. “Zeb? Get out here.”
Zeb appeared, his face still puffy from the tears he’d shed. He approached Bobby, then saw Christopher and held his hands up in defence. “Don’t hit me again.”
“Hit you? You’re lucky I let you get back up,” Christopher slurred. He’d been drinking while Connie was upstairs and the alcohol had hit him quick. Heartbreak could do that; turn every single thing you thought you knew upside down.
“Ask him,” Bobby said. “You got questions and you deserve answers.”
But Christopher didn’t say anything. With the opportunity to hear the truth right there in front of him, he became less curious. Less brave.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” Zeb winced as he spoke. Even he heard how stupid that had to sound.
“You run out of other women, huh? Or you just wanted the challenge of something a little closer to home?”
“Don’t…” Zeb said. A warning? Or a pleading?
“What? You’re worried about a little privacy now, brother? You had the guts to do this, you can tell me the truth. How did this start? Huh?”
Zeb groaned. “You remember Frank and Janet’s party? On the river boat?”
“They’re some of my best clients,” Christopher murmured. “Of course I remember. That was over two years ago!”
“I drove Lottie home, remember? You stayed. You were flirting…”
“I was not!” Christopher roared. “I never looked at another woman since I met my wife!”
“Lottie thought you were flirting with Janet. She’d had too much to drink and I should have known better. She made the first move.”
“You’re telling me you took my wife to bed that night?”
“No!” Zeb sounded horrified by the suggestion. “She was drunk, Chris! I told her to get some sleep. I set her up with a glass of water, took her shoes off and left her.”
“And then what?”
“Something changed,” Zeb explained. “There was this, like, electricity between us. She’d make excuses to see me. She was making it pretty obvious she wanted something to happen, and eventually I let it.”
“So my wife started it all? That’s what you’re saying?”
“That’s the way it was,” Zeb said with a shrug. “And once it started, we both made sure it carried on. She was the kind of woman you couldn’t get enough of. You know that.”
“Darn right I know that! I married her! You had no right… she was mine!”
“You didn’t own her, Chris,” Zeb said. “She had her own mind and for whatever reason, you weren’t doing it. She wanted something else, something I could give her.”
“How dare you?” Christopher roared.
“What’s going on?” Taylor’s cool, calm voice came from the doorway. Connie was glad to see him.
“These two are sorting out their differences,” Bobby said with a nod.
“Now?” Taylor exclaimed. “For Christ’s sake, this isn’t a Jerry Springer show. Get these two away from each other!”
Zeb didn’t need to be asked twice. He retreated back into the living room and Bobby followed. Taylor approached Christopher, laid a hand on his shoulder.
“You okay?”
Christopher reared away as if the touch had burned him. “I’m glad she’s dead. I mean it. I would have killed her myself. How dare she embarrass me like this?”
Taylor said nothing, just held eye contact until Christopher’s shoulders sagged. He looked like a much older man than the one who had arrived just a couple of days before, with his trophy wife and his beautiful children.
“We could have worked it out,” he said, his voice cracked. “I would have forgiven her anything. She knew that.”
“Come on,” Taylor said. “Let’s go and get some fresh air.”
He lead Christopher out of the front door and only when it closed behind them did Connie let out the breath she had been holding.
“Connie?” A voice came from the top of the stairs. Connie turned, smiled at Daisy. “What are you doing all alone?”
“Oh,” Connie shrugged. “Your dad was down there with Christopher, I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Daisy was all sunshine and denim, a regular real life Daisy Duke.
“You’ve checked on Roo?”
Daisy nodded. “She’s such a good sleeper. Nothing wakes her.”
“That’s good,” Connie said. “She seems like a great kid.”
“Oh, she is,” Daisy agreed. “Luke and I are so blessed.”
Connie tried not to wrinkle her nose at Daisy’s gushing. “I heard you weren’t so keen on his career at first.”
“Well,” Daisy flexed her fingers as she spoke. “He gets along pretty well with Zeb, always has. I wasn’t too keen on Zeb’s influence on him.”
“Ah,” Connie smiled. “You knew about Lottie?”
“I’m talking about years ago,” Daisy said. “Back when Luke was playing the dive bars for no money, no applause, and Zeb was a little too eager to go with him. But, yes, I knew about him and Lottie. Who didn’t?”
“Did Dottie?”
Daisy considered the question. “You’d have to ask her that.”
Connie, of course, had already asked Dottie, but wondered if her own answer was reliable.
“It seems like your parents are the most regular type people here,” Connie braved it, unsure how Daisy would respond.
“Mom can be a nightmare,” Daisy gritted her teeth. “And the way her and daddy are so desperate for gran to approve of them is a little annoying. The worst thing? They’ll never accept Roo, not really.”
“Because she’s adopted?”
“Because she’s adopted and didn’t need to be,” Daisy scoffed. “That’s their view. Luke and I, we never tried to have a baby the old-fashioned way. We both knew that while there are children out there needing a home, we should adopt. I honestly think they’d understand if we couldn’t have had a baby ourselves, but choosing to adopt when we didn’t have to?”
“Your mom seems pretty smitten with Roo,” Connie said.
“Oh, yeah. Roo’s won her over. But she likes her the way she might like a friend’s kid, ya know? Doesn’t really love her like a grandchild. And daddy? He’s never got over her skin colour.”
“That must be rough.”
Daisy shrugged. “It’s all about money with those two.”
17
Connie slid down into a seat at the empty dining table. Dottie sat two seats away, typing away furiously on a laptop.
“Am I disturbing you?” Connie asked.
Dottie looked at her and continued to type as she did so.
“Wow! You can still hit the right letters?” Connie was impressed.
The compliment appeared to confuse Dottie, who eyed her before allowing a small smile. “Far too many years spent typing up notes. It’s really not an achievement to be proud of. Anyway, I’m sure you haven’t come in here to watch me type. What’s up?”
Connie grimaced. Dottie’s no-nonsense manner put her on edge a little, although it was clear she was also the most straight forward person in the family. “What do you think about Lottie’s death?”
Dottie raised an eyebrow and stopped typing. “I’m a doctor, I have a duty to think that any life lost is a tragedy.”
“But...”
“It wasn’t a suicide,” Dottie said. “If that’s the question you were really asking. That’s my personal opinion, of course. I imagine you’re doing the rounds trying to work out who killed her, and I’m high on your list?”
“Should you be?” Connie asked.
“Probably,” Dottie said. “If Zeb turns up dead as well, that wouldn’t help my case.”
“It’s not something to joke about.”
“Sorry,” Dottie said. “As a medic, you develop a certain gallows humour. I don’t remember seeing your police badge?”
“I�
��m not police,” Connie said. She fidgeted in the chair a little. “I guess I’m an amateur sleuth.”
“Fabulous,” Dottie said. “You know, the very worst patients I see are the ones who watch all of the medical programmes on TV and start to think they know more than they do.”
“I’m not like that,” Connie protested. Darn the woman. Dottie didn’t even know her and was judging her! “Trust me, I didn’t choose this.”
“You mean you’ve done it before? Solved a murder?”
“More than once.”
“Well,” Dottie began to type again. “If people keep dying in your company, Connie, maybe you should jump to the front of the list of suspects.”
“I’m one of the only people here who wouldn’t want Lottie dead,” Connie said. “You went out of the room before midnight. Where did you go?”
Dottie let out a long, shaky breath. “I had work to do.”
“On the evening of New Year’s Eve?”
“Illness doesn’t care about time,” Dottie said. “Now, if I’d drowned Lottie, wouldn’t my clothes have been wet?”
“You could have changed clothes,” Connie said.
“But did I?”
Connie replayed the evening back in her mind. She had no memory of whether Dottie had changed clothes, but she remembered who had. “I don’t know. Did you?”
“Of course not. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Some people might consider that not helping the investigation makes you look a little suspicious.”
“Show me a formal investigation and I’ll certainly co-operate,” Dottie said, her chin high and firm.
“You must have been very upset to learn of Zeb’s relationship… with Lottie,” Connie softened her voice.
“Once upon a time I might have been,” Dottie said. “It’s funny the things you can get used to. Taylor’s never been unfaithful?”
“No!” Connie exclaimed, outraged by how casually Dottie suggested the possibility. Taylor had never been disloyal to her, and never would be. Connie was sure of that.
“You can’t imagine it then,” Dottie said. “The first time, it hurts. The second time, you’re more angry with yourself than anyone else. And after that, it becomes a part of life that you gloss over, try to ignore.”
“But with Lottie? She was family…”
“She wasn’t my family,” Dottie said. She met Connie’s gaze and her eyes glinted with emotion. “These people aren’t my family, Connie, and they’re not yours. They never will be. They don’t accept outsiders. They didn’t like Lottie, but they don’t like me and they’ll never like you.”
“They are a little… unusual,” Connie admitted. “They don’t even seem to like each other.”
Dottie assessed her with her cool gaze, then gave a wry smile. “Maybe you’re not as slow as you look.”
Stung, Connie leaned forward. “I’m not at all slow, and here’s one thing you need to know about me. When I decide to solve a case, I solve a case. So you’d better start talking.”
Dottie let out a laugh. “Oh, Connie, dear, I can see how this will play out. You already think it was me, and I don’t blame you for that. You think I’m furious, or heartbroken, or maybe both. I killed Lottie in a fit of rage. I’m laughing about her death, I’m laughing about Zeb’s affair. I’m acting like a guilty person. Why don’t you just arrest me and have done with it? Oh! I remember, you’re just a housewife who thinks she can play cops and robbers… or cops and killers, should it be?”
Dottie stood and closed her laptop.
“Wait,” Connie began. Her cheeks were burning so red she could probably cook a steak on them.
“No, Connie,” Dottie rubbed her temple. “I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
And with that, she left the room.
**
Connie stayed at the dining table alone, considering the events of the night before.
She remembered Christopher’s appearance in his silk pyjamas, such a ridiculous change of clothes that nobody could forget it. Had he gone upstairs, drowned his wife, and changed into pyjamas so that the outfit change was easy to explain?
Connie had no sooner finished that trail of thought than Christopher appeared at the table. He watched her for a moment, then pulled out a chair.
“People say you’re investigating,” he said.
“I am,” she admitted.
“You have any suspects?”
“Yes.”
“Am I one of them?”
Connie pursed her lips. “Nearly half of all murdered women are killed by their husband.”
Christopher smiled. “You remembered the headline wrong. They’re killed by their husband… or their boyfriend.”
“Zeb’s a suspect too,” Connie said. “You went upstairs and changed clothes, why?”
Christopher rolled his eyes. “I was showing off, alright?”
“Why?”
To her horror, he broke down in tears. “Because I’m about to lose it all. And I figured, for one last night, I’d let them all see me as the rich jerk.”
“You’re about to lose what?”
“I’m going to be struck off,” his voice was a hungry whisper, as if he had been desperate to reveal this news to someone, anyone. “I told you at dinner, remember? You thought I was joking. We’ll lose the house, the cars, even the boat! And I knew that Bobby would have an idea how much those pyjamas cost. Taylor and Zeb don’t care about things like that, but Bobby’s always wanted more than he’s had. And I’ve always rubbed it in his face that I’ve got more than him. It was my one last hurrah.”
“What did you do?” Connie asked.
Christopher rolled his eyes. “I used some client money, just to help me get through a rough patch. The whole thing’s been blown up unnecessarily. The firm were looking for a chance to get rid of me, I guess. I figured I’d leave and find another firm, maybe even start my own, but they reported me. I’ll never practice law again in my life.”
“Did Lottie know?” Connie asked.
He shook his head. “I always believed she really did love me, you know. Right up until I saw that note, anyway. But so many people have told me she only stayed for the money. Part of me thought she might leave when I told her.”
“What will you do?”
His broad shoulders moved up-down, a desolate shrug. “Does it even matter? Does anything matter any more?”
Connie watched as he crumpled and he leaned his head forward, revealing a growing bald spot amongst his salt and pepper hair. Had he simply been a stupid older man, or had Lottie really loved him? She’d stayed for a heck of a long time for it to be anything other than love. Who could say what had made Zeb catch her eye, what need he fulfilled that Christopher was apparently unable to. The heart was a mysterious creature, and Connie silently gave thanks for a man who loved her, and her love for him.
“Did you kill your wife?” Connie asked. She hoped the abruptness of the question would shock him into honesty, but his tears continued as if he hadn’t heard her. Minutes passed, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer at all.
Then he raised his head and looked at her, his eyes red and raw.
“Someone beat me to it,” he whispered, so quietly that she would wonder whether she had imagined it. Then he pushed the chair out from beneath him and stormed out of the room.
18
Connie gathered her thoughts and left the grand dining room. The elaborate meals that Grace had prepared seemed so long ago. She found the woman hovering at the edge of the lounge, looking uncomfortable to have empty hands and no jobs to do.
“Grace?” Connie asked. “I was wondering if we should make some food for everyone?”
Grace grinned. “Yes, yes! Fabulous idea, I’ll do it right away!”
“I’ll help,” Connie said, and something in her voice must have indicated authority as Grace didn’t argue.
The fridge was packed with eggs and bacon, mushrooms and avocado. Connie busied herself wi
th cracking eggs into a bowl.
“Omelette?” Grace asked.
“That ok?”
“Eliza prefers her eggs boiled,” Grace said. “You weren’t to know! Don’t worry.”
Connie was very definitely not worrying about egg preferences, and found it strange that Grace would be. “You’re like the font of all knowledge about this family, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Grace said. “There’s plenty I don’t know. I don’t know what my daughters are up to most of the time.”
“That’s how it should be when they grow up, though, right?”
Grace sighed. “I guess. I try to ring them every day but more and more they can’t come to the phone. Strange, when I see how often they’re posting things on Facebook.”
Connie smiled. Maybe Grace coped with tragedy by ignoring it. Or maybe Lottie’s death was no tragedy in her opinion. “How’s everyone coping?”
“Oh, you know. I saw you’d ducked out of the room, out of respect,” Grace said. “That was a nice touch. I mean, even though you’re not really family, you don’t have to hide from us all.”
Connie tried not to look wounded by the comment. “When do I become really family?”
“When you and Taylor get married, of course,” Grace said. “Eliza values marriage hugely.”
“Is that why only married sons inherit?”
Grace’s eyes were wide. “You know about that?”
“Someone mentioned it,” Connie said.
“Hey, can you just go and ask who doesn’t eat the bacon fat? I can’t remember for the life of me which one it is.”
“Sure,” Connie said, seeing the request for what it was - a chance for Grace to buy herself some time. She headed out of the kitchen and walked down the hallway, spotted Dottie carry her laptop and push open the door to the room she had been using as a study.
“Oh!” Dottie exclaimed with the awkwardness of the childless woman. “You’re in here? Well, great aunt Dottie needs to do a little work. You run along and play nicely?”
Roo bounded out of the room and Connie almost walked right in to her.
Dottie closed the study door behind her.