An Anniversary to Die For

by Valerie Wolzien

  Jinx looked up, obviously surprised. “Why are you surprised? That’s the way it seemed throughout her trial. The papers said that he was there every day.”

  “I know. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I didn’t like Ashley. She was certainly not the type of person I wanted to move in next door. I guess I just assumed everyone else felt the way I did.”

  Kathleen reached for the bottle of wine Dan Hallard had left, poured out a glass, and handed it to her. “Here. This might help.”

  “Nothing helps. I want to find out who killed Ashley. I ask dozens of questions, and I still don’t know anything. No one seems to know anything. I go from one police station to the inn to the other police station. And I don’t learn anything new. I find a bottle that could be evidence, but I still don’t know if it is or if—” Susan stopped speaking and reached into her purse.

  “What’s wrong?” Jinx asked.

  “Wasn’t there something about evidence in those newspaper articles you just gave me?” Susan flipped through the newsprint as she spoke. “See, that’s what I’m saying! I just read those articles, and I’m not sure what’s important and what’s not. I just can’t get a handle on this investigation. Alvena tells me about the Markses’ past, and Jinx finds a bunch of information in the local newspapers, but I can’t fit it all together. I know I’m missing something. Hell, I know I’m missing a lot. There must be lots of people I haven’t talked to. I just don’t know who they are. As far as I know, Ashley and Doug didn’t have any real friends in Hancock. They may have moved into this house because I was living next door. But neither Doug nor Ashley ever made any serious attempt to get to know Jed or me. Of course, Ashley didn’t need to. She ran around town claiming to be my friend without ever worrying about whether she was or not.” Susan picked up her full wineglass and drained it. “That’s bothering me, too. I seem to have been set up here. I feel like the Markses invaded my town, my neighborhood, and then, damn it, my party and my life, and I don’t have any idea why!” She stood up.

  “Where are you going?” Kathleen asked.

  “Home. I’m going to . . . I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go finish my thank-you notes.”

  There were only a dozen or so more notes to write, and Susan got down to work immediately. She’d had a rotten day, she was tired, and she certainly shouldn’t have inhaled that last glass of wine. But, for some reason, the combination of anger, fatigue, and alcohol did the trick, and she dashed off the last of the notes in record time.

  “There you are, Clue,” she said to the dog who was lying on her dog bed, underneath Jed’s desk. “Want to take a walk to the mailbox with me?”

  Clue jumped up, putting her front paws on the desk and toppling the pile of stamped notes Susan had left near the edge. She grabbed for them and came up with yet another of the Landing Inn Guest Questionnaire forms that Alvena was always after her to fill out. Clue sat back down, an eager expression on her furry face. Susan glanced at the sheet of paper and tossed it on Jed’s desk.

  And then picked it up. She had promised to fill this out. If she did it now, she could put it in the mail with her thank-you notes and she wouldn’t have to think about it again. It would take very little time. The first question was standard: How did you hear about the Landing Inn?

  Susan thought for a minute before realizing that the answer to this question was at least part of the answer to all the other more serious questions she’d been asking for the last week. In a way, it was the key that held everything together.

  THIRTY-ONE

  “ASHLEY MARKS PLANNED HER OWN MURDER!”

  “Susan, you know how these cell phones are! It sounds like you said that Ashley Marks planned her own murder,” Kathleen responded.

  “You heard me just fine. Ashley planned her own murder. I called Brett and he’s on his way over here, but I wanted to tell you first.”

  “So tell me! And start from the beginning,” Kathleen insisted.

  “Remember the party we gave for the Markses right after they arrived in town?”

  “Of course. I learned that Doug was a clean-water expert who loved guns, and you were busy elsewhere.”

  “I was busy talking with Ashley. About our upcoming anniversary party. That’s when she did it. She suggested the Landing Inn.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I got so involved in the planning and all that I forgot where the original idea came from until a few minutes ago. But the idea was Ashley’s. I remember thinking that it was a brilliant idea—having the party where we spent the first night of our marriage. I didn’t know about the food and all, but she assured me that the inn had changed over the years and would be a perfect place for a party. And of course it was.

  “Kath, that’s the doorbell. It must be Brett.”

  “Don’t you dare go on until I get there! I’m only three blocks away! It will take less than two minutes! I want to hear everything!” Kathleen hung up without bothering to say good-bye.

  Erika and Brett were at the door, still in the clothes they’d worn to the funeral. Jed, who had come home to find Susan excited and Clue desperate for a walk, strolled up the sidewalk behind them. Susan glanced next door. There were three cars in the driveway and about a dozen parked on the street. It looked like Doug was still entertaining funeral guests.

  “Kathleen’s on the way over. I caught her on her cell phone in her car. She had just left Doug’s house,” Susan explained, leading them all into the living room. “Although maybe I should have called Jinx. She did a lot of the research.” But a quick glance at Brett’s face and she stopped chattering. “You know,” she said quietly, sitting down on the arm of the chair where Jed was sitting.

  Brett nodded. “Yes, I’ve tried to think of anyone else who would fit, and I can’t.” He leaned against the mantel and frowned. “Erika and I were at the service. But after we left the church, we headed straight for the police station. We decided not to go next door. I was worried that our presence at the service might have been disrupting enough, so Erika went to the station with me.”

  “I saw Signe. She’s fine,” Erika spoke up.

  “I should have realized that you had Signe,” Susan said to Brett.

  “Protective custody. Signe agreed because she was scared. She refused to talk about it, but I think she believed her father had killed her mother. And that he just might be dangerous.”

  “Poor Signe.”

  “She’ll be okay now,” Erika said. “Brett told her that her father was no longer a suspect, and when we left, she was packing her things. One of Brett’s officers will drop her off at her home after the rest of Doug’s guests leave. She didn’t want to run into a lot of people and feel obliged to explain where she’s been—and why.”

  “But where’s Peter Konowitz?” Susan asked.

  “We’re not sure. I’ve been calling around, and apparently Peter has disappeared. He must have known we were getting close.”

  “Then he won’t be arrested?” Susan asked.

  “Oh, he will be,” Brett assured her, a grim expression on his face. “Everyone involved is making the assumption that he’s left the state already. The FBI’s been called in. They’ll find him. Don’t worry. Peter Konowitz is going to pay for killing Ashley Marks.”

  “But will he pay for doing so much damage to their lives over the years?” Susan wondered.

  Kathleen appeared in the doorway of the room. “Wait a second,” she insisted. “Before you get philosophical, I need to know the details. Who? What? When? And all that.”

  “I’m completely in the dark, too, hon,” Jed spoke up.

  “I’m not sure I know where to start,” Susan said.

  “Susan, less than fifteen minutes ago you were saying you didn’t have the information you needed to solve this case. What changed?” Kathleen asked, sitting down on the couch and petting Clue.

  “I realized what not having the information meant,” Susan said.

  “That’s not an explanation,” Jed protested.


  “It is! You see, I thought I didn’t know anything because I was used to Brett being in charge of a case. I thought that was what was wrong. But it wasn’t what Brett wasn’t doing. It was what Peter Konowitz wasn’t doing.”

  “He didn’t pass on information like Brett would have done,” Kathleen guessed.

  “I doubt if he even bothered to get the information.” Susan looked up at Brett.

  “You’re right.” Brett answered her unspoken question. “There’s no record of him turning in an empty wine bottle to determine if there was poison in it. Either he knew that there was—and I suspect that’s the truth—or he knew there wasn’t because he had used some other method to poison Ashley. Either way, he didn’t want anyone else knowing.”

  “What about the first time?” Susan asked. “One of the newspaper articles Jinx found reported that Peter Konowitz was sending samples of various foods and what the reporter referred to as bodily fluids out to the labs. Did he do it then?”

  “We’re going to have to find that out. There were records kept. We’ll know all of this eventually. But I suspect he didn’t.”

  “This is somewhat confusing,” Jed said.

  “But that was the point!” Susan cried. “The confusion was intentional. And it was created by Peter Konowitz. Once I realized that, I began to understand what was going on.”

  “What do you mean?” Kathleen asked.

  “Right from the first, Chief Konowitz had everyone running in circles. Well, not right from the first. He actually asked Jed and me a few intelligent questions when Brett reported the body to him. But that was only because Brett was present and would pick up on any unprofessional behavior on the part of a colleague.” She glanced over at Brett. “Right?”

  “Probably.”

  “But that was the only time,” Susan continued. “There were no follow-up questions. No interview later to get all the little details he might have missed the first time. Nothing. After that initial meeting, all Chief . . . Would anyone mind if I called him Peter? It would be easier.”

  “It would be more appropriate, too,” Brett said. “Peter Konowitz should never have been made police chief. He shouldn’t have been a cop at all. I should have . . . could have . . . stopped his career years ago. But . . .”

  Erika was up and by her husband’s side immediately. “It isn’t . . . It wasn’t your fault,” she insisted, taking his hand in hers. “There was no way you could have known this was going to happen.”

  “No, you’re right about that. And I had no idea he’d screwed up his first big investigation back when I hired him to work here in Hancock. But I knew he didn’t get along well with the people he worked with. And I gave him the benefit of the doubt and didn’t even put that in his permanent record. You can’t get around the fact that I made some bad judgment calls when it came to Peter Konowitz. To tell the truth, I was so glad he was leaving the force that I didn’t care about too much else.”

  “You know, I think he used the fact that he irritated people,” Susan spoke up. “He kept popping up here and there and making life difficult for me. Instead of going to him for help, I began to avoid him. And, of course, that was just what he wanted. He didn’t want me around. He didn’t want me looking too carefully at Ashley’s murder, so he was happy that I was running around looking for Signe in the wrong place, being offered opinion as fact by Alvena Twigg. I was busy, busy, busy, and I didn’t accomplish a damn thing.”

  “So Peter Konowitz killed Ashley,” Jed said. “Why?”

  “Because she knew he screwed up his very first big investigation as rookie police officer back in Oxford Landing.”

  “The first poisoning case?” Jed asked for clarification.

  Susan nodded vigorously. “Exactly.”

  “Who . . . ?”

  Susan didn’t have to wait for him to ask the question to answer. “Ashley. Ashley poisoned Doug both times.”

  “For God’s sake! Why? And why was she so incompetent that he lived—twice?”

  “Because she didn’t want him to die. She wanted him to move to a place where she could live the type of life she wanted to live.”

  “You’re saying Ashley used poison as some sort of lifestyle change incentive?”

  “Sure. The first time she didn’t want to live on the farm with Doug’s mother. So she placed insecticide in the food she and Doug ate. My guess is that she thought Doug would think it was all a tragic accident and take the family away from the farm. But I think Doug may have known what she was doing.”

  “But didn’t he just encourage her by moving? I mean, she did get what she wanted, right?” Erika asked.

  “Yes, but he also protected everyone. Ashley may have gotten the result she wanted, but he also protected Signe from prosecution. There’s no doubt that he loves his daughter. I’m sure that was important to him, too.”

  “So you don’t think Ashley loved Hancock, either,” Kathleen said.

  “Even I know Hancock isn’t Paris,” Susan explained. “But Ashley saw a way out at the same time Doug was falling in love with the house where he would have his shooting range. She saw the articles about me. I doubt if Ashley thought I was Hancock’s Nancy Drew. She probably thought I was a meddling busybody who would investigate in an incompetent manner—which would mean she wouldn’t be caught. She waited until she’d lived here long enough to make it look as though the two families were friendly, and then she began the poisoning again. And that upset Peter Konowitz.”

  “Why?”

  Susan looked at Brett. “Because he screwed up the first investigation, right?”

  “Right. Peter probably thought he’d gotten off scot-free when Ashley was arrested and the first poisoning wasn’t reported. But then she was freed, and Brett started to investigate again. This time there was no way the first poisoning was going to remain in the past. It wouldn’t have taken my guys long to realize that Peter screwed up the first time, and that would have ruined his fading career.”

  “So moving to Oxford Landing—even as chief of police—wasn’t much of a promotion,” Erika suggested.

  “Damn right.” Brett looked angry, and Susan finished off the sad tale.

  “So Ashley was freed and decided going to our party was just the thing to perk her up after the weeks in jail and the trial. And Peter knew you wouldn’t just let the question of who poisoned Doug die. Unfortunately, Ashley had suggested the Landing Inn, and I had thought it was a great suggestion. But Oxford Landing is a small community. Peter probably heard about my party. And he could assume I’d invite my next-door neighbors. Ashley was in place when Peter offered her a glass of wine and killed her.

  “And then he put her in our bedroom. He knew about my reputation, and he knew I wouldn’t be able to resist investigating. And he couldn’t resist sending me off on the wrong track again and again.”

  “He might have gotten away with it,” Jed said slowly. “Everyone was so sure that Doug was the killer. Of course, Peter Konowitz didn’t know that you’re not exactly a linear thinker. You did what you always do. You looked in all directions until you found what you were looking for—the man who poisoned Ashley Marks.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  A WEEK LATER, KATHLEEN AND SUSAN WERE ROCKING together on an old-fashioned outdoor swing placed in the shade in the Henshaws’ backyard.

  “Kathleen, this is the best anniversary present we were given,” Susan said.

  “I’m glad you like it. It was really Jerry’s idea. I shopped and shopped and couldn’t find anything I thought you and Jed would both like. Then Jerry came home from the garden center with one of these things for us, and I sent him back to get this one for you and Jed.”

  “It’s sensational. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Kathleen looked closely at her friend. “You seem a bit tired.”

  “I am. Chrissy and Stephen and their dogs left early this morning.”

  “And you miss them already.”

  “Not yet. But we were al
l up late last night talking and making plans for the upcoming blessed event.”

  “You must have been terribly disappointed when Chrissy told you that it was one of the dogs who is expecting, not her.”

  “I was, but she and Stephen are young. There’s lots of time for them to have children. And last night Stephen said that he’s being wooed by three different brokerage houses, and two of them are located in New York City!”

  “Susan, that’s sensational!”

  “You know, Kathleen, you’ve been asking all the questions. Now I have one for you.”

  “What?”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  “Heavens, no! You know I’d tell you if that were true.”

  “Then why are you still working on that baby afghan?” Susan asked, pointing at the knitting bag slung on the ground by Kathleen’s feet.

  Kathleen grinned. “Oh, Susan! I’m really enjoying this. Do you have any idea how rare it is that I know something about one of our friends before you do?”

  “Someone we know is pregnant?”

  Kathleen’s grin grew wider. “Yes. Erika.”

  “Erika and Brett are going to have a baby? Are you sure? How do you know? When? That’s the most fantastic news!”

  “It is,” Kathleen agreed. “I ran into them at the Hancock Inn last night. When Brett left here last week, I thought he’d never cheer up. He was really blaming himself for a lot of bad things happening to a lot of people. But last night he was drinking champagne and laughing. I stopped by their table to say hello, and they told me the big news.”

  “Wow. A new baby. What great news!” Susan thought for a minute. “You know what else?”

  “What?”

  “We should give Erika a baby shower! We can have it here—or at the Hancock Inn!”

  “That’s a great idea! Do you think we should have a meal?”