“Who are you going to call? I don’t think Chief Konowitz is going to be happy to hear from you again.”
“I’ll call Brett.”
“He may not be home yet.”
“I could call the station and leave a message for him. Or maybe I should call him at home and leave a message there. What do you think?”
“I think we’re almost home ourselves. Why don’t we go in, get a glass of wine or a cup of tea and maybe something to eat, and we can check our own answering machine at the same time. Maybe Brett has called us.”
Susan considered his suggestion. She was surprisingly hungry, and it was just possible that Brett had called and the information she wanted was waiting on their machine. “Okay, but promise me that if Signe is in the county jail— any county jail—you won’t object if I go see her this evening.”
“Susan, I don’t think county jails have evening visiting hours.”
“Why not? Hospitals do.”
“It’s not quite the same thing, you know.”
“But if I can see her this evening, you won’t object to it.”
“Of course not.”
Susan was quiet, licking off the last of her lipstick and worrying about Signe. They were passing the Welcome to Hancock. Founded in 1772 sign. They had less than five miles to go to get to their house. It didn’t take long, but she was relieved when Jed turned the corner onto their street. A lone TV van sat in front of the Markses’ house surrounded by the cars of friends and neighbors; Susan turned her head away as they drove up their driveway. The automatic garage door opener allowed them to slip into their garage without confronting anyone. From there it was only a few steps to the kitchen.
Susan had been prepared for the rambunctious greeting of Rock and Roll. And she knew Clue wouldn’t be far behind.
But Signe’s quiet “Hi” came as a complete surprise.
TWELVE
“SIGNE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
“They asked me a lot of questions and then said I could go home. But I didn’t want to . . . to go home. My father’s there and I know I should be with him, but all those cars . . . He’s not alone. And if I go back to the city, they could just come and haul me off to jail at any time. I . . . I was hoping that if I came here . . . I just don’t want them to find me.”
“Would anyone else like a drink?” Jed suggested.
Signe looked up. “I’m afraid it would just go to my head. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything.”
Susan leapt into action. “Jed, I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having, but first we need to take care of Signe. There’s Brie, Stilton, and some excellent chèvre in the refrigerator. And a baguette in the bread box. If you could quickly make up a cheese platter, I’ll run down to the basement and see what’s in the freezer that I can defrost for dinner.” She was out of the room before she had finished her sentence—and back almost as quickly. “Just don’t put any food within reach of the dogs!”
Jed looked down at the three hungry, furry faces that had gathered by his feet before he’d even opened the refrigerator door. “Don’t worry.”
Signe, Susan noticed, didn’t even smile. Susan dashed down to the large freezer in her basement and rummaged through its well-stocked shelves for the second time that day. Soups, casseroles, chili. She found what she was looking for and smiled. Homemade chicken rice soup—it might not cure a cold or mend a broken heart, but it would be soothing, filling, and nourishing. Tupperware in hand, she climbed the stairs to the kitchen.
Jed was chopping up the baguette with more energy than efficiency, and crumbs were flying everywhere. Signe didn’t appear to have moved an inch. Susan rushed to her husband’s side. “I’ll do that. Why don’t you pour us some wine and maybe get a glass of orange juice for Signe.”
Jed went to do as she asked, and Susan finished his task. Then she cleaned up, throwing out the chicken that had been getting warm on the counter all day, and placed the frozen soup in the microwave. After pressing a few buttons, she returned to the table, placing the cheese, bread, plates, and napkins before her guest. When Signe didn’t respond, Susan spread Brie on a thin slice of bread, put it on a plate, and placed it on the table in front of the young woman.
“You will feel better if you eat something,” Susan suggested quietly, pushing the plate closer to her guest.
“I guess.” Signe picked up the food and looked at it critically. “I’m allergic to nuts.”
“It’s cheese.”
Signe smiled. “Of course it is. I’m not thinking—or seeing—very well, I guess.” She took the smallest bite possible.
“I’m heating up some chicken soup too—homemade. I know it’s a little warm for soup, but . . .”
“No, please, it sounds good.” Signe put the rest of the cheese in her mouth and almost smiled. “I’m starving.”
Now this was a problem Susan could solve. She spread cheese on more bread, got up and punched a couple of buttons on her microwave, and then headed for her refrigerator to collect the ingredients for a salad.
Jed poured glasses of Pinot Noir for Susan and himself, and Susan sipped hers as she put together a salad. “You and I have something in common. I was at the police station over in Oxford Landing today, too.”
Signe didn’t ask why, perhaps because Susan hadn’t told her that she’d been taken there with a police escort. “Actually, I never made it that far,” Signe said.
“I thought—”
“I know. I thought they were arresting me too, but it turned out that that weird Chief Konowitz just wanted to ask me a few questions.”
“What sort of questions?” Jed asked.
“Why do you call him weird?” Susan wondered.
“It was all so strange,” Signe began slowly. “Here I was talking with you and Erika and . . . I’m sorry, I don’t remember who the other woman was. . . .”
“Kathleen Gordon,” Susan said.
“Well, I was talking to you three and telling you about . . .” She glanced over at Jed. “About my past.”
“It’s okay. I told him pretty much everything you told me,” Susan explained.
“Then you know why I’m the first person the police questioned when my mother was murdered.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jed said. “It seems to me there may be many other suspects. But why don’t you go on and tell us what happened after you left here.”
“I was taken to the police car.”
“Were you handcuffed?” Susan asked quickly.
“No. But there was a rather muscular man on either side of me and a very large woman walking behind me, so I didn’t even consider trying to get away or anything like that.”
“If you weren’t heading to the police station, where were you going?” Susan asked.
“Oh, we were on our way to the station. At least that’s what he told me.”
“He being Chief Peter Konowitz?” Jed asked.
“Yes. He told me that he needed to ask me some questions. Well, he said that here, right?” Signe continued after Susan nodded. “I asked him where we were going when I saw the police car, and he said to the station. I don’t know why . . . well, I do know. I was in shock. I wasn’t thinking. Anyway, we all got into the police car and I assumed we were going to the Hancock Police Station. When the car headed onto the highway I was stunned. I don’t remember what I said. . . . Something like where are you taking me. And he said that we were going to Oxford Landing. That’s when he offered me his cell phone.”
“Good Lord. Why did he do that?” Jed asked, putting down his wineglass with a bang.
“He said I might want to call my lawyer.”
“Did you?” Susan asked.
“Did he read you the Miranda warning?” Jed asked simultaneously.
“I don’t have a lawyer. And he didn’t read me anything at all. It was just a suggestion. It was almost casual, in fact. I turned him down, and he began to ask me some questions.”
“What questions?�
�� Susan asked quickly.
“The first was how well I got along with my mother. I told him that I was grown up, had a life of my own, and didn’t see either of my parents all that much.” Signe paused. “To be honest, I was afraid that maybe I sounded a bit defensive, so I added something about us having never been close. I probably should have kept my mouth shut.”
“What did he say to that?” Susan asked.
“Nothing. He asked the same question about my father. And I gave him pretty much the same answer. Then he wanted to know where I was when my mother was killed. I told him home asleep in front of the TV. And then he got a call on his cell phone and almost right away he insisted that the officer who was driving pull into a diner parking lot.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I know; it was really odd. I got the impression that his phone kept going in and out of service. He kept raising his voice and yelling. I was thrilled that we had stopped, though. I desperately needed to use the bathroom, and they let me.”
“They let you go alone?”
“No, the female officer went with me. We weren’t gone more than five minutes, but when we got back to the car, Chief Konowitz said that there had been a mistake, that he had more important things to do, and that they were going to drive me back home. Which they did, although I asked to be dropped off a few blocks away. The press trucks that had been tailing us had vanished, and I wasn’t anxious to run into any of the reporters who seem to be permanently camped out on my parents’ lawn.”
“And that’s why you came here,” Jed suggested.
“Yes. I walked through the backyard. Your daughter and some friends were out there tossing a stick to some huge dogs. They said they were just about to leave and go out to dinner. Anyway, I told them who I was and that I wanted to speak with you about my mother’s murder and . . . and your daughter let me in.” Signe looked perplexed. “She didn’t seem to think it was at all odd.”
“Our daughter is accustomed to her mother’s rather strange activities,” Jed commented, getting up to fetch the wine bottle.
“You came here just to avoid the press?” Susan asked, choosing to ignore Jed’s remark.
“Yes . . . No . . . Not really. I came . . . I’m here . . .” Signe paused, took a deep breath, and started again. “To be honest, I was hoping you might be able to explain something. Something my mother said to me.”
“What?”
Signe looked from one Henshaw to the other, a sad expression on her face. “Yesterday was awful, and I’m not completely sure I know when everything happened. I wasn’t even planning to be in Hancock this weekend. I’ve been avoiding here because I didn’t want to answer questions about why I wasn’t in court during my mother’s trial.”
“Why weren’t you?” Susan asked quickly.
“I . . . My parents . . . This is all so difficult.” Signe took another deep breath. “You see, my mother’s lawyer thought my presence might complicate her case.”
“I would have thought it would strengthen it—you know, make it look as though you were being supportive,” Jed suggested.
“She—her lawyer—didn’t want the press to find out about what happened when I was a teenager.”
“I would have thought your mother’s lawyer would be thrilled that someone else might be a suspect—no matter who it is,” Jed said.
“But think about that time. Signe’s mother told the police she had put the poison in Signe’s closet,” Susan interrupted her husband. “When you think about it, her lawyer was smart. That fact coming out might have done a lot of damage to her case.”
Signe nodded. “Exactly.”
“It does make sense.” Susan looked at Jed.
“So let’s get back to the party,” he suggested. “You were just saying that you were in Hancock because your mother called you . . .”
“Yes, she wanted to celebrate her ‘not guilty’ verdict. At least that’s what she told me on the phone.”
“When was that?” Jed asked.
“Around one o’clock on Friday. I was at the SoHo store. She called me there.”
“Right after she arrived home after being freed by the court,” Jed said.
“How do you know that?” Susan asked.
“I came home early because Chrissy and Stephen were driving up from Philadelphia. You had an appointment for a manicure—or pedicure or whatever—and you wanted to be sure someone was around to greet them, remember? Anyway, I was feeling sorry for Clue since Slobber and Snot tend to get all the attention when they’re here. So I thought I’d take her over to the playing fields by the municipal building and toss around a ball. We’d just gotten started when about twenty press cars and microwave vans pulled into the parking lot. They were all looking for Brett to get his response to the ‘not guilty’ verdict.”
“How did you know that?”
“You know Clue—she considers herself the world’s official greeter,” he explained to Signe. “Anyway, she took off to see what all the commotion was about, and I dashed right after her. One of the reporters for the Hartford paper grabbed her before she could run in front of a car, and he told me what was going on. He has two goldens of his own,” Jed added.
“So your mother called you around this time,” Susan said, trying to get back to the story.
“Yes. Mother said she wasn’t calling from home, but she didn’t explain where she was,” Signe said. “Or else I wasn’t paying attention. She told me the jury had come back with a ‘not guilty’ verdict, and she wanted me to know right away. I was so relieved.” She pursed her lips and was silent for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, then Mother asked me if I could come to Hancock for the weekend. Of course, I said I would. I explained that I needed some time to get organized, but that I’d be here in the middle of the afternoon. Then Mother said Father was going to take her to dinner, that the food in jail had been repulsive, and we hung up.
“It wasn’t until I arrived in Hancock that I discovered that Mother had no interest in celebrating her release with me. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was so happy with the news when she called that I completely ignored the fact that we are not the type of family who gets together to celebrate anything.”
“So what happened when you arrived?” Susan asked, thinking how sad that sounded.
“Well, I came straight to the house. Father was home, waiting for me in the living room, but Mother had gone out.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No, she was getting her hair done and having a manicure and pedicure. At least that’s what she told Father when she left home. Apparently she went shopping, too. When she arrived home she was carrying at least a dozen packages from Saks.”
“When was that?” Susan asked, wondering if she would have done the same thing after being in jail for over a month.
“She came home around four in the afternoon. Father had made reservations for dinner at a place on the water up near Mystic. He and I had talked it over, and we thought it might be a good idea to go someplace where no one would know them. Of course, it turned out that Mother had other ideas.”
THIRTEEN
“WHAT OTHER IDEAS?” JED ASKED.
But Susan knew the answer before the words were out of Signe’s mouth. “She had decided to attend your party.”
“I gather you and your father were surprised by her decision,” Jed said.
“Shocked. We had planned a quiet evening in a restaurant fairly far away and had talked about how to avoid being followed by any press, and all of a sudden Mother is asking my father if his navy Brooks Brothers suit is back from the cleaners and if he thinks it’s necessary to buy—” Signe stopped speaking, obviously embarrassed. “Ah, if it was necessary to buy you two an anniversary gift.”
“Didn’t we have ‘No gifts please’ printed on the invitations?” Jed asked no one in particular.
“How weird,” Susan commented, glaring at her husband. After all, he was the one who was always saying they needed to stick to th
e subject. “Did your father have any reservations about coming to our party?”
“Yes. He didn’t come right out and say so, but I could tell. He told Mother that he was fairly sure he had refused your invitation and that it would be rude to turn up unexpected. But Mother said she had found the invitation on her desk and that, as the RSVP card was still with it, he could not possibly have refused. And she said it was going to be a big party and no one would notice if they hadn’t sent in the RSVP. She wouldn’t listen to anything else. She was determined to go, and the only decision to be made was what Father was going to wear and when they were going to leave.
“When Mother gets going, Father usually dithers around a bit and then he gives in. He was upstairs looking for his blue suit almost immediately.”
“What did you do?” Jed asked.
“This is the odd thing that happened,” Signe answered.
“My parents were both upstairs getting dressed. I was scrounging around in the kitchen, looking for something to eat, when my mother came downstairs. She was wearing a robe and she looked . . . I don’t know. . . . She looked weird.”
“What do you mean?” Susan asked.
“She was pale, of course. I mean, it’s not as though she’d spent the summer out in the Hamptons. And she’d lost weight in jail, but there was something else. It’s going to sound strange, but she looked serious—more serious than I’d ever seen her.”
“Did she say anything to you?” Jed asked.
“Yes, she said she had something to tell me. Something important. I had been getting ready to open a can of soup, and I put it away and sat on a stool. I don’t know what I was expecting. I was afraid . . . Well, to tell the truth, I thought for a minute that she was going to tell me that she had been poisoning my father, that she was guilty. But she started to talk about you two.”
“About Jed and me?”
An Anniversary to Die For Page 9