An Anniversary to Die For

by Valerie Wolzien

“Of course today my father seems to have decided that I’m a murderer,” Signe said sadly.

  “Do you think your mother put that poison in your closet? Do you think she knew who did?”

  Signe’s smile disappeared. “Now you know just a few of the questions I’ve been asking myself for the past ten years.”

  “Any answers?” Susan asked.

  “There are a few things I do know and a few things I’ve guessed,” Signe answered.

  Susan leaned back and waited, expecting the story to continue. She was wrong, There was a knock at the front door, and when she answered it, Susan discovered three policemen and a woman in uniform. They had come to ask Signe to accompany them to the police station. They had, they said, a few questions to ask her.

  NINE

  SUSAN AND ERIKA HAD NO IDEA WHAT TO DO.

  “Do you think we should follow her to the police station?” Susan asked, watching the two marked police cruisers pull out of the driveway.

  “I think she already has an entourage,” Erika replied. “Look.” She pointed to the Markses’ house, where a phalanx of TV microwave vans was lining up behind the police vehicles. “If we follow along, they’ll just turn to us for information when the official sources don’t provide what they’re looking for.”

  “We could call a lawyer,” Susan suggested, feeling they should do something.

  “Do you know the name of a good criminal defense lawyer?” Erika asked.

  “What about the woman who defended Ashley? She won.”

  “She won because the investigation was messed up by the prosecutor. Signe may not be so lucky.” Susan and Erika turned around to see who was speaking.

  “I came in the back door,” Kathleen explained. A large straw tote, yellow yarn trailing from the opening across its top, dangled from one hand.

  “Signe is not guilty,” Erika insisted.

  “We believe that, but this is a terrible mess, isn’t it?” Susan asked a rhetorical question.

  It was one of the many things the three women standing at the window watching the parade of cars could agree upon.

  “I suppose Brett already knows about Signe’s arrest,” Erika said quietly.

  “Probably,” Kathleen agreed.

  Susan turned away from the window. “How well do you know Signe?” she asked Erika. “I know she works for you, but . . .”

  “I know her better than I do most of my employees,” Erika answered. “She’s a remarkable young woman. She applied for a job in the city while she was still in college. I needed good salespeople in my SoHo shop, but I needed them on Friday and Saturday nights. Customers flock into my store while they’re out gallery hopping, so it’s open until eleven. Then the final tally on the computer as well as all the cleanup has to be completed before everyone leaves for the night. Not many college students are interested in working that schedule. Signe swore it was just what she was looking for, and she was telling the truth. She’s smart, well educated, and has sensational taste. She started that year, graduated the next, and she’s now managing both that store and the one on Madison Avenue.”

  “What sort of background does she have?” Kathleen asked. “What was her college major?”

  “She was a fine arts major—she makes sensational jewelry and has produced some nice tapestries—and she had a minor in marketing. She had planned on working in an art gallery rather than someplace as commercial as Twigs and Stems, but we handle more and more craft items—high-end stuff. Signe went with me on my last buying trip to Brussels, and she was a huge help. She has quite an eye as well as a head for business. In a few weeks she’ll be taking her first solo buying trip to Milan.”

  “If she isn’t arrested,” Susan said.

  Erika frowned. “Yes, of course. If she isn’t arrested,” she agreed sadly. “Susan, you have to do something. I can’t believe Signe murdered her mother, but who knows what that chief of police might do.”

  “What do you mean?” Kathleen jumped in to ask.

  “Look, I know neither of you would repeat this, but Brett has a very low opinion of Peter Konowitz.”

  “Does he think he’s incompetent?” Susan asked.

  “Did Brett fire this guy?” Kathleen asked.

  “No, but I don’t think he encouraged him to hang around Hancock, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t,” Susan said quickly. “Are you saying that Brett tried to get rid of him, or was glad when he left, or what?”

  “I can’t tell you. I didn’t know Brett when Peter Konowitz worked in Hancock, so I don’t know the entire story. But Brett didn’t get home until the sun was coming up this morning, and he got a call from this Konowitz guy almost as soon as he walked in the door. After he hung up the phone he said something about PK screwing it all up again and suggested I head over this way in case Signe needed my help. I’ll find out more tonight—or whenever Brett has a free minute to talk.”

  Susan looked at Kathleen. “I don’t suppose you know anything about this guy?”

  “I may. I think he came to Hancock around the time I left to marry Jerry. I may have met him. I know I heard a lot about him. He was the talk of the department for much of the time he was here.”

  “Why? Was he incompetent?”

  “Nope. Just a bit overly enthusiastic for a department like ours. That and a vivid imagination made him a lot more trouble than he was worth in some people’s opinion.”

  “What do you mean?” Erika wanted to know.

  “It’s not easy to explain. Say there was a burglary. No weapons involved. No assault or anything of that nature. The house is empty one evening. No one bothers to turn on the alarm system and some jewelry and a computer are snatched. Happens all the time in Hancock.”

  “A routine case,” Erika said, nodding.

  “Exactly. Only Peter didn’t—or couldn’t—act as though it was routine. He jumped in as though it was a major case, wanting to investigate everyone who had access to the home in the past year, checking out the company that provided security, talking about setting up a sting operation to catch the burglars. It was a pointless waste of time and upsetting for everyone involved.”

  “Sounds like Brett must have been glad when he moved on.”

  “Thrilled is what I heard,” Kathleen said. “Peter Konowitz isn’t a team player. And that’s hard on everyone on the force—especially the person who’s in charge.”

  “Brett said that he was ambitious—that a police department the size of the one we have here in Hancock didn’t provide enough room for him to advance. So why is he working in an even smaller town now?” Susan asked.

  “That’s not unusual. Peter Konowitz moved to a bigger department to get experience and then moved to a smaller one to become chief of police.” Kathleen shrugged. “That’s the way promotions work for people willing and able to move around.”

  “I suppose it’s not important here anyway,” Susan said.

  “Oh, it’s important,” Erika said. “After all, if Peter and Brett didn’t have some sort of relationship, we would never have known that Signe might be in trouble.”

  “Do you think Brett will have advance notice of whatever else happens?” Susan asked Erika.

  “I have no idea. And I hope Signe is only being questioned—that she isn’t being considered the primary suspect in the case, frankly.”

  “But what if she is?” Susan asked. “What are we going to do then?”

  “Then you’re going to have to find out what’s been going on in that house next door,” Kathleen said.

  “We’re not just talking about the present,” Susan said. “Signe admits this all started years ago—on her grandparents’ farm.”

  “Which is near where it all ended,” Erika added.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Signe grew up about fifteen miles from Oxford Landing. Didn’t you realize that when she was telling us about her past?”

  “I had no idea! How do you know?”

  “Brett and I got lost on the
way to your party. We became intimately acquainted with that part of Connecticut,” Erika explained. “Signe’s mentioned her grandparents’ farm to me over the years, and I recognized the name of the town when we drove through it—for the second or third time—on the way to your party.”

  “You really were lost,” Susan said, momentarily diverted.

  “You know the little towns up that way—many of them were built around a colonial green, and so the roads going in and out of town don’t make a whole lot of sense. We circled many statues noting an obscure historic event more than once. Anyway, that’s how I know how close the two places are.”

  “What an odd coincidence,” Kathleen said.

  “Odd is just the word for it,” Susan agreed. The three were silent for a moment before she continued. “What do you think we should do now? It really isn’t our place to call a lawyer for Signe.”

  “I’d hate for Signe to think we’ve abandoned her—or for her to think we don’t care,” Susan said slowly. “After all, whether we want to be or not, we’re involved here. Whoever killed Ashley left her body in my bed.”

  “So what do you want to do?” Erika asked.

  “I think I’ll call and leave a message on Doug’s machine. I can tell him that we’re thinking of him and, of course, the usual anything-we-can-do statement. If he wants to take us up on it, fine. If not, we’ve offered.”

  “Okay. And I think we should go to the inn for an early lunch,” Kathleen suggested.

  “Revisiting the scene of the crime?” Erika asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Susan said enthusiastically. “Let’s take the Jeep. It’s just possible that the police will have released my presents.”

  “Your presents? Why did they impound your presents?” Erika asked.

  “They were in our bedroom—where Ashley was found. In fact, she was found underneath some of them.” Susan paused. “It’s a little creepy to think that I may end up using something that lay on top of a dead woman.”

  “Didn’t you say Jed found her body?” Kathleen asked.

  “Yes. I was in the bathtub, and he was clearing the bed.”

  “So you don’t actually know which gifts were . . . in contact with Ashley.”

  “Not actually.” Susan grimaced. “No, I don’t.”

  “But you know your friends really wanted you and Jed to have those gifts,” Kathleen continued.

  “I do know that. So you think I should just ignore where they were and . . . and enjoy them?” Susan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Definitely!” Erika agreed.

  “Then let’s go!”

  “I need to call Jerry to make sure he takes care of the kids for the rest of the day.”

  “And I should leave a message on our answering machine for Brett and let him know I’ll be out until dinner.”

  “And I’d better leave a note telling the first person home to walk Clue. Who knows how long we’ll be gone.”

  “Let’s go over in one car so we can chat on the way,” Erika suggested. “Of course, there won’t be as much room for presents on the way home.”

  “So it will give us an excuse to go back again tomorrow if we have to,” Kathleen said. “After all, it’s not like this all happened in Hancock. It won’t hurt if anyone else involved thinks that we’re just minding our own business instead of investigating a murder.”

  “I gather you don’t think Chief Konowitz is likely to be too enthusiastic about amateurs getting involved in his investigation,” Erika said.

  “I think he’d hate it if he knew.”

  “So we won’t tell him,” Susan said, standing up. “We’ll just be two suburban housewives and one very successful entrepreneur going about our own business. No one can stop us from doing that, can they?”

  “Well . . .” Kathleen started.

  “We have a reason to return to the inn. Who we talk to and what we talk about is really no one’s business,” Erika stated flatly.

  “So let’s make those calls and get going,” Susan said.

  TEN

  THE TWIGG SISTERS WERE SITTING IN MATCHING ROCKING chairs on the wide front porch of their inn, entertaining the local press corps with coffee, doughnuts, local legend, and a sprinkling of fact. They seemed to be enjoying all the attention. And Susan, Kathleen, and Erika appreciated the distraction they provided, allowing the three women to park in a far corner of the not-too-big lot across the street from the inn and then dash around to the back of the main building unnoticed.

  Here, away from the eyes of inn guests, the business of giving a party was displayed. Slick, black plastic bags stuffed with garbage were piled high against centuries-old stone walls. Disused plastic crates, names of local dairies embossed on their sides, had been flung upon the remains of a kitchen herb garden, squashing large basil plants while barely making an impression on a thriving bed of mint. Three garbage cans overflowed with empty bottles, causing Susan to wonder if perhaps her headache wasn’t the result of something other than Ashley’s murder and Signe’s arrest.

  “I wonder where they are,” Kathleen said, ignoring the mess and glancing back over her shoulder at three police cars parked illegally in the spaces reserved for delivery trucks.

  “Good question,” Susan said. “I’d rather avoid running into anyone official as long as possible. It will give us more time to look around.” She glanced at her companions. “Do you think anyone on the local police force will recognize either of you?”

  “I doubt if anyone knows me,” Kathleen answered. “Except for the one case when I came to Hancock, I never worked around here, remember. And while I was in contact with a few cops from other districts when I was running my security company, I didn’t have any jobs this far north.” She turned to Erika. “What about you?”

  “You know, it is possible. Brett and I have attended quite a few official functions—some local, some state—in the past few years. I can’t tell you how many cops I’ve met. I don’t remember many of them, but it’s possible that some of them remember me.”

  Susan and Kathleen exchanged looks. Erika’s distinctive style would stand out—and be memorable—in almost any group.

  Erika saw the look and smiled. “So I don’t know the answer to your question. Sorry. But I agree it’s a good idea to avoid as much contact with anyone official as possible.”

  “Then let’s not go through the kitchen. My guess is that any cop in his right mind would head straight for the origin of the inn’s homemade doughnuts.”

  “Good idea.” Kathleen nodded. “You know, there’s a ladies’ room behind the bar. And I think there may be a passage from there straight to the bedrooms upstairs.”

  “Great!” Susan enthused. “Lead the way.”

  Kathleen did just that, and in a few minutes they were standing on the second-floor landing outside the bedroom Susan and Jed had planned to share last night.

  “So now what?” Erika asked in a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” Susan whispered back.

  “Why’s everybody whispering?” Dan Hallard had never felt a need to modulate his booming voice, and now was no exception. “You lovely ladies chatting about something you don’t want us men to know about?” His words echoed up and down the chestnut-paneled hallway.

  “Not really,” Erika, the most forthright of the trio, started to answer, but Susan interrupted her.

  “Actually, I am planning a surprise for Jed. And Erika and Kathleen are helping me,” she added quickly.

  “You women and your little secrets. Just let me know if I can be of help. You know me—anything I can do to support a nice long marriage—especially if it’s between two of my all-time favorite neighbors. I’m off to join my own lovely lady for a very late brunch. Can’t believe I’m hungry after all the food you fed us last night, Susan. We both slept like rocks, but our room’s over the kitchen, and the smell of bacon woke me up this morning.”

  “Dan, I didn’t know doctors at
e cholesterol,” Kathleen kidded him.

  “They don’t if they’re at home and their wife’s doing the cooking, but here I can order whatever my little heart desires—even if it doesn’t know what’s good for it.”

  “Well, enjoy your meal,” Susan said, wanting to get on with their task.

  “Thank you. And you enjoy your planning.”

  “Ah . . . Thanks, we will,” Susan sputtered before remembering what he was talking about.

  “So what do we do now?” Erika asked when they were alone again.

  “We go in there.” Susan pointed to the door. A swath of yellow tape printed with the words Police Line Do Not Cross had been taped across it.

  “But . . .” Erika pointed to the tape.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Susan assured her. “If they really didn’t want anyone in there, there would be a police officer posted at the door.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Erica said, looking skeptical. “What do you think?” she asked Kathleen.

  Kathleen shrugged. “Susan’s talked me into ignoring that before—and we’ve never been arrested.”

  “Not yet,” Erika muttered as Susan peeled down one side of the tape and pulled something from her pocket.

  “So convenient when you have the key,” Kathleen said, examining the old-fashioned skeleton key the inn provided.

  “I think someone may be coming up the stairs,” Erika whispered.

  Susan turned the key, and they all pushed into the room. “Don’t move!” Susan whispered. The order was obeyed immediately. They listened intently. The old, worn floorboards creaked with every step, and whoever had come up the stairs continued on down the hall, entering another room and slamming its door behind him.

  Susan sighed with relief. “Whew! For a minute there I thought it was a police officer.”

  “Let’s look around and get out of here before one shows up,” Kathleen suggested.

  “But there’s so much to look at,” Erika said. “I can’t believe all these people ignored the ‘no presents please’ note on your invitation.”

  “But you gave us something. At least I thought . . .” Susan was suddenly embarrassed, not wanting Erika to think she had expected a gift from her.