While Ed and Annie were saying goodbye to their friends after spending several pleasant hours munching on pizza and wings and tapping their feet to the folk music of the acoustical guitar player, Emily’s murderer, now fully awake after having passed out on the sofa from drinking a half bottle of vodka a couple hours earlier, stood up and started pacing back and forth while the perky, trim brunette news anchor gave an update on the murder at the Lighthouse Cove museum and named the victim, indicating that the police had exhausted all obvious leads but still were looking for clues that would help them find her killer. She reported that there now was reason to believe that someone may have targeted Emily Bradford and purposely made the crime look like a burglary gone awry.
“It’s not my fault; this was not my fault,” her killer moaned. “Things just got out of control, and they shouldn’t have. I never wanted this to happen. She shouldn’t have screamed at me. If she hadn’t screamed none of this would have happened.”
In a fit of frustration and rage, the killer kicked over the side table, upsetting the liquor bottle and spilling its remaining contents on the floor. Mopping the puddle up with a hastily retrieved roll of paper towels and shaking with nervous tension, the killer repeated a mantra several times, “I have to pull myself together. I have to calm down.”
Chapter 20
The snow had stopped and the sky, now clean and clear, sparkled with a multitude of stars so bright that Ed and Annie could easily identify many of the constellations. As waves softly lapped against the shore they walked home, arm-in-arm, talking quietly. Ed admitted that going out for pizza with their friends had helped take his mind off the investigation and made him feel calmer and less edgy than he had for the past couple days.
“Since leaving Albany and especially since I retired as police chief here, I’ve missed the challenges related to crime-solving on an ongoing rather than part-time basis as a consultant. I must admit that being hired to help solve this murder has been giving me somewhat of an adrenalin rush. But slowing down tonight and having a bit of normalcy, even if just for a few hours, has been good for me, and I think probably for us since we’ve had a little time to connect without constantly focusing on Emily’s death and the break-in,” he said.
“I’m glad this evening helped you, Ed. I know how much you want to solve Emily’s murder, but you’re not a youngster any more, and being obsessed 24/7 can’t be good for your health. I’ve been very concerned about you. While you’re in great shape, please remember that you are in your 60s.”
A little later as they snuggled in bed, Ed yawned and said to Annie, “Tonight was a lot of fun, but you’re right, I do sometimes forget I’m in my 60s. I just realized how exhausted I am and hope I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Carrie and I have a long day ahead of us.” He kissed Annie, told her he loved her and appreciated her support, closed his eyes and was asleep within minutes.
Chapter 21
At 8:30 the next morning Suzanne’s phone rang, just as she was entering her house after her morning walk. She needed to get into the shower to get ready for work and almost let the message line pick up but at the last second decided to answer it, hoping whomever was on the line would be brief.
“Hello, this is Suzanne. May I help you?” she asked, a melodious Jamaican lilt in her voice.
“Good morning, Suzanne. It’s Ed DeCleryk.”
“Hello, Ed. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to do a follow-up to the interview we had the day of Emily’s murder, Suzanne, and I’m hoping you’ll be able to meet with me sometime today.”
“I don’t know what more I can add, Ed, but certainly I’ll meet with you. I’ll do whatever is necessary to help you find Emily’s killer. When and where would you like to meet?”
“Any time and place that’s convenient for you. Your house, your wellness center, Bistro Louise or the police station if that works best since it’s located right across the street from your center.”
“I wanted to get to my office to do some planning and paperwork before my first class. But that isn’t until 11:00, and I can put the paperwork on hold. Why don’t you stop over in about an hour? I just got back from a walk, and that will give me time to clean up. I’ll brew some tea, and we can chat. Would that work?”
“That’s perfect,” Ed responded. “See you soon.”
He hung up the phone and called Carrie who expressed disappointment that Suzanne hadn’t suggested meeting Ed at the police station since she was hoping to listen in on the conversation.
“I’ll ask Suzanne if she would mind my recording our interview, just so I don’t forget any details. I can’t imagine she’d refuse, and then you can listen to it when I get back,” Ed offered.
An hour later, Ed walked up three steps to Suzanne’s front porch and knocked on the door. The small Victorian cottage, painted indigo blue with white gingerbread trim, backed up onto a narrow canal that spilled into the bay. Opening the lime-green door, Suzanne greeted him and motioned him inside where colorful steel drum art decorated the walls along with stunning seascapes, done in muted watercolors. Accent walls of vivid blue, lime green and mango set a welcoming backdrop to simple upholstered white twill furniture. Spices lined a shelf along one wall of the small kitchen, with cookbooks set on windowsills and countertops.
They had just sat down and started to talk when they heard a loud crash. Startled by the noise, Ed jumped. Suzanne laughed.
“Oh, that’s just Matilda,” she said. Just then a huge tabby cat walked into the room. “Matilda likes to sleep on the dressing table in my bedroom,” she explained.
“When she heard us talking and didn’t recognize your voice she probably decided to see who was visiting, and when she jumped off the table she knocked something onto the floor. It happens all the time.” Ed smiled, looking very sheepish.
After settling in with a cup of tea, Ed asked Suzanne if she minded if he recorded the interview. “I’ll want to share it with Carrie and don’t want to forget anything.”
Suzanne pursed her lips together and then quietly asked, “Am I a suspect? Do I need an attorney?”
Ed responded quickly, “Of course not. The last thing I want is for you to feel threatened by this interview, and if you become uncomfortable you can end it at any time. But I don’t want to forget any of our conversation when I report to Carrie about it, since she’s directing the investigation.”
Suzanne consented, and Ed, to put her at ease, began with small talk, asking her questions about her background and how she came to open her practice in Lighthouse Cove.
She answered that she’d been a trained therapist practicing in Rochester when she started feeling burned out from dealing with clients who came to her when their lives, full of stress, had already cascaded out of control. After much reflection, she determined she wanted to deal with mental and emotional health issues in a more positive way and closed her practice.
“I decided that rather than helping repair the damage done to my clients in the aftermath of stress in their lives, I could be more effective by doing preventive work and helping people learn ways to live healthier lives before stress made them ill.”
She said she and her family had spent many weekends in Lighthouse Cove when she was a teenager, loving it for its beauty and serenity, which is why she chose to move and open her wellness center in the village. Its proximity to Rochester also enabled her to have ongoing contact with her family and friends there.
“Annie may have mentioned that I offer nutritional counseling, teach yoga and meditation, do therapeutic massage, and conduct wellness seminars.” Ed nodded.
“Is that how you met Emily? Did she take one of your classes?” Ed asked, segueing to the purpose of his visit.
Suzanne shook her head. “Shortly after I moved to Lighthouse Cove I got involved as a volunteer at the museum, and that was how we met. We started walking together each morning, along with my next-door neighbor, Mary Ellen Vanderline, and eventually became good friends.”
> “Did you walk the morning of the murder?” he asked, leading into the questioning.
“Yes, but Emily didn’t walk with us. We’d had dinner the night before, but she wanted to go to the museum before the board meeting to get some work done and set up the coffee. Because I had the meeting at 9 a.m. and Mary Ellen had made plans to go to Canandaigua with her husband, Leslie, for the day to watch their grandchildren, we were out earlier than normal, about 6:30. It was still dark. We walked for about 45 minutes and then stopped at the Bistro for lattes and croissants. I got home about 8 a.m., showered, changed and then drove to the museum for the meeting.”
“Did you go by the museum when you walked and if so, do you remember seeing anything that looked suspicious?” Ed asked.
Suzanne explained that they normally did walk by the museum, but because they were a bit short on time skipped that part of the route that day.
“When you had dinner did Emily seem nervous or jumpy? Was there anything about her behavior that struck you as odd?” Ed asked.
“That night Emily seemed fine, but I’ve been concerned about her for a long time. She had a lot going on in her life and suffered from some anxiety and depression. I was keeping a close eye on her.”
“What was causing Emily such distress?” Ed asked.
“I believe I mentioned when you interviewed me the morning of the murder that her parents died in a tragic accident. I can’t remember if I also said she was separated from her husband, Jon, and that she had resigned her position from the university because of an affair with a student.”
“You alluded to her parents’ deaths,” Ed responded. “I learned more about that tragedy and about her affair and marital status from some other sources.”
Suzanne continued, “Her marriage had been rocky for several months before the affair started, but the separation occurred because of it. She felt terribly guilty. I was also concerned she might be starting to suffer from seasonal affective disorder, which, because of the lack of sun and short days in winter, is quite common in our part of the world.
“I recommended she increase her vitamin D, gave her some herbal supplements, suggested diet changes, and got her to take one of my yoga classes.”
“Was that helping or was she getting worse?” Ed asked, wondering if, instead of being murdered, Emily had become despondent and had thrown herself over the bluff, striking her head on some debris made from cast iron before she hit the beach, and that the break-in at the museum had been coincidental.
Suzanne shook her head. “The supplements and classes were helping a little; she didn’t seem quite as depressed.”
She continued, “Still, I thought she needed professional help to work through her issues. Since we were friends, I didn’t feel as though I could serve in the role of a therapist for her but suggested she see a friend of mine who practices in the city. She was mulling it over.”
Ed got straight to the point, “Carrie and Luke were at her house yesterday and found the emails you wrote and wondered about their content. Was it because of her emotional state that you asked her to live with you? Were you that concerned?”
“I wasn’t worried she would harm herself in the short run, but I was concerned that with winter coming her depression might worsen. She’s very isolated out there on the peninsula, plus most of her neighbors are gone for the season and with the heavy snow we get out here, getting into the city on a regular basis to see her friends who live there isn’t always easy.
“I kept in touch, but there were days when I didn’t have time to visit with her because of my schedule at the wellness center. I thought if she could stay with me awhile she might feel more supported and would continue to heal. She refused, telling me she was starting to work out her problems and that she didn’t need a babysitter.”
“Ouch,” responded Ed.
“I knew I’d hit a sore spot, and her reaction was pretty much as I expected. But I felt I had to try.”
Thinking about his advice to Carrie the day before about not jumping to conclusions about the emails, Ed felt vindicated. Suzanne’s explanation about them made sense. But she hadn’t explained why she’d withheld information about Emily’s affair when he’d interviewed her the first time.
Ed said, “I learned about Emily’s affair with Eric Sewall through other sources, but I’m wondering why you didn’t tell me about it when I questioned you on the day of the murder.”
“I’d lost a beloved friend and was distraught. And I was trying to comfort Charles Merrill who seemed to feel strongly that Emily had been killed during a botched burglary attempt, so I expect that’s what I assumed as well. I also knew, because Emily had confided in me, that Eric had sent her an email apologizing for the stalking and letting her know he wouldn’t be bothering her again. I didn’t say anything to you because I didn’t have any reason to think he might be implicated in Emily’s murder.”
“You didn’t know he’d died?”
“He’s dead?” She gasped, and her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Was he murdered? Does his death have something to do with Emily’s? Or did he commit suicide? Emily told me he was unstable. If she knew Eric had died that certainly could have impacted her emotionally.”
“He didn’t commit suicide, and he wasn’t murdered. We don’t think Emily knew. We learned he’d died of cancer several months ago.”
Suzanne sighed and shook her head.
Starting another line of questioning, Ed asked, “What restaurant did you go to the night before she was killed? Did you notice anything out of the ordinary, anyone who looked suspicious?”
She answered, “We didn’t go out. Emily came here to the house. She liked to cook, and I invited her over to learn how to prepare red snapper with lime and coconut. It’s a popular Jamaican dish.”
“Was she more upset or tense than usual or worried about anything?”
Suzanne shook her head. “Not at all. Everything seemed fine. In fact, Emily was very relaxed, the best she’d been for a long time.”
“Did she drive to your house?” Ed asked, wondering if perhaps someone had followed her.
“No, she didn’t. As you know, my wellness center is only a few blocks from her house. Her car was in the shop, so I told her I’d swing by and pick her up after work and then bring her home after dinner.”
“Did anyone else join you for dinner or were the two of you alone?”
“The dish we were going to cook serves four to six, so at the last minute I invited my boyfriend, Garrett Rosenfeld, and one of his law partners, Sheila Caldwell, who is also a friend of mine. Her spouse was working that night so couldn’t join us.”
“And you can’t think of anything that happened that was unusual?”
“No, absolutely not. We had a wonderful evening with lots of wine and laughter and had just finished eating when my dad called. He owns a Caribbean restaurant, Callaloo, in the city, and his hostess had asked for Sunday off for some family situation. He wanted to know if I could come in and work for him that day. Sheila had brought her dog, Elmo, and while I was on the phone she went out to walk him, and Garrett and Emily started cleaning up the kitchen. I heard them talking and laughing while I was on the phone.”
“When you drove her home, did you notice any strange cars or anyone lurking near her house?”
“I didn’t drive her home. Garrett and Sheila dropped her off on their way back to Rochester. Before she left, she pulled me aside and said she had decided to get counseling and was hopeful she could work through her grief over her parents’ death and her shame at the affair and reconcile with Jon. I hugged her and we both cried.” Suzanne’s eyes welled up, and she dabbed at them with a tissue.
“Do Garrett and Sheila know about her murder?”
“Yes. I called them. Emily’s death is no secret and I didn’t want them to find out through the news. They are very upset. I asked Garrett if he noticed anything unusual when he took Emily home, but he said he didn’t. He said he walked her to the door and waited until she w
as safely inside to go back to his car. You might want to talk with him anyway. And Sheila. Maybe they’ll remember something that they didn’t think of before.”
“Good suggestion. Is there anything else you think I should know?”
Suzanne shook her head.
“Then I won’t keep you any longer.” He turned off the recorder, stood up and clasped her hands in his.
“Thank you so much. I don’t know if our conversation will get us any closer to finding Emily’s murderer, but you certainly have helped me understand the sequence of events that night.”
Chapter 22
Ed met Carrie at the police station and played the interview for her.
“Garrett Rosenfeld is Suzanne’s boyfriend?” Carrie asked.
“You know him?”
“No, not personally. I took a continuing education course in criminal justice last year at Finger Lakes Community College, and he was one of the instructors. He’s a defense attorney and was a fabulous lecturer. I learned a lot.”
“So, what’s your take on the interview?” asked Ed.
“After listening to it, it’s obvious she didn’t kill Emily,” responded Carrie. “I was way off base about their relationship and the reason for the emails. And you’re right, even if the curly hairs on Emily’s coat were Suzanne’s, they were close friends who spent a lot of time together, and Suzanne did say they hugged before Emily left. Still, it’s one more lead down the tubes. Maybe our original premise, that Emily was in the wrong place at the wrong time, is the accurate one, Ed, and she really was the victim of an unpremeditated murder, despite our recent assumption that someone had targeted her.”
“I agree,” responded Ed. “And now that we’ve finished, I’d like to take a break. You seem to have things under control, and I need to work on an agenda for a meeting I’m chairing tonight for the Silver Bay Association. Are you okay if I go home and do that?”
Murder in the Museum_Edmund DeCleryk Mysteries Page 7