“Twenty?”
“Her dad bought her one every time he went away on business. Or, rather, his assistant bought one. She gave me a couple of them. I still have them.”
“Thanks,” he said. “But what are you doing down here?”
She laughed. “Are you kidding? Good news travels fast. I don’t want to miss this. Can’t wait for the wives to bump into each other.”
“Captain wants me to keep them separated for now. He was quite clear on that. But depending on how things go, we may arrange for them to see each other. Look for any signs of recognition.”
“You think our John Doe really had two wives?”
“I think the real question is whether the Mrs. Claussens know he had two wives.”
“No way,” she said.
“It happens,” Ryan said.
“Not in North Carolina.”
“It wasn’t in North Carolina.”
“What kind of guy keeps two completely separate families?”
“I don’t know. I’m about to go find out. Want to join me?”
“You stepping out on me, man? How could you?” Gabe entered the room clutching his chest in mock agony.
“Since she’s here, I was thinking that Anissa might have a better rapport with Mrs. Claussen #1. And if the captain is right, you might have a better rapport with Mrs. Claussen #2.”
Anissa shrugged. “Why not? Besides, I’m curious to see if we can find any connection between our two bodies.”
Gabe’s only response was to step back for the two of them to leave the observation room.
“You got some ’splaining to do, buddy,” Gabe said in a whisper as Ryan passed him.
“Trust me,” Ryan said.
Ryan wasn’t exactly sure why he’d asked Anissa to come in with him. It had seemed like a good idea in the moment, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.
He opened the door to the interview room and held it for Anissa to go in first. Mrs. Claussen #1 stood as they entered. “Can I see my husband? Where is he? Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”
Ryan tried to keep his expression neutral. This was always tricky. On the one hand, he wanted to empathize with the victim’s family. On the other hand, the spouse was always a suspect until proven otherwise. And with the addition of a second spouse, the chances of Mrs. Claussen #1 having a motive to kill Mr. Claussen skyrocketed.
“Mrs. Claussen—”
“Don’t ‘Mrs. Claussen’ me, young man. I want an answer and if you can’t give me one, then you turn your cute little self around and go find me someone who can.”
He could almost hear Gabe laughing on the other side of the mirror.
Anissa didn’t seem to be inclined to respond to Mrs. Claussen’s comment. Some help she’d turned out to be.
“Mrs. Claussen,” he tried again. “I’m Investigator Ryan Parker. This is Investigator Bell.” He nodded in Anissa’s direction.
“Lovely. I’m Muriel Claussen and I’m not going to ask you again, young man. You tell me where my husband is right now or my attorney will find ways to keep this little police station of yours in litigation for the next decade.”
Oh, good grief. Ryan clenched his teeth together to keep himself from saying something he would regret. He had zero concerns about her lawyer or any litigation. He was just trying to give her time to talk herself into a nice deep hole.
Anissa gave the tiniest of shrugs. Seriously? That’s all she could do?
“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, ma’am, but I’m afraid your husband has passed away,” Ryan said.
Mrs. Claussen #1’s face paled beneath her makeup. She took a small step back, and for a moment he thought she was going to crumple.
He was wrong.
She caught herself and straightened. “I want to see him.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that,” Ryan said. “This is an active investigation, and there are some things about the nature of his passing we need to discuss with you first. Please, have a seat.”
“I want to see him.” Mrs. Claussen #1 articulated each word.
Anissa moved toward her. “Mrs. Claussen, could I please make a suggestion?”
Mrs. Claussen narrowed her eyes at her but gave a small nod of assent.
“I’ve been where you are. I’ve been in a room insisting that I see a friend who had passed. I understand how desperately you believe you must see him. But can I tell you how desperately wrong you are? There are things that can never be unseen. They can and will haunt you. I know you don’t know us and you have no reason to trust us, but please. Let’s talk for a little while.”
Whoa.
Anissa wasn’t one to lie in general, but was she telling the truth or was she just trying to establish rapport?
“Please, Mrs. Claussen. Please have a seat,” she said.
This time, Mrs. Claussen #1 did crumple. “If you won’t let me see him, how can you be sure it’s him?”
“We’re going to confirm it with a DNA analysis, but right now we are basing it on some other information. Including that the body we suspect is your husband has several things unique to it. The left femur and right ulna were broken at the same time while in his teens.”
She blinked several times. “Yes,” she said, her voice quavering. “We were in high school. He loved to ski, but he hit some ice and lost control. Cartwheeled down the slope. I saw it happen. It was brutal.”
“And had he perhaps had some arthroscopic surgery on his knees?” Ryan asked.
“Yes,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “But how . . . you cut him open? How could you do that without permission? What kind of monsters are you?” Her knuckles whitened around her purse.
“Mrs. Claussen, autopsies are standard procedure in cases of suspicious death.”
Her mouth worked as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Suspicious? What happened to my husband? How did he die?”
Father, help me here.
“Mrs. Claussen, there’s no easy way to tell you this. We believe your husband was murdered.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know,” he said. Honesty was always the best policy.
“Was he robbed? Where did you find him?”
Oh boy. Ryan leaned toward her and tried to infuse his words with as much gentleness and sympathy as he could. “His body was found in Lake Porter.”
Every part of her body registered shock. If she was behind this, she was a consummate liar. “In the lake?” The words caught in her throat and she tried to clear it. “Like, floating around in the water?”
“No, ma’am.”
She looked relieved. That wouldn’t last long.
“Our dive team located his body at the bottom. He had been wrapped up and weighted down. We don’t think the killer intended for anyone to find him for quite some time.”
He allowed silence to settle over the room, giving her time to process everything. If only the worst were over.
“Is that why you couldn’t identify him from a picture? Had he been—” She shuddered. “Had he been eaten?”
“No, ma’am. I’m afraid the killer removed his head and hands and feet from his body. I’m very sorry. We’ve searched the lake, but we’ve been unable to find them.”
“He . . . his head . . . what?”
Was he going to have to say it all again?
“Mrs. Claussen,” Anissa said. “You have valid questions, and we will answer them as many times as you need us to. But right now, the best thing you can do to help us find your husband’s killer is to tell us everything you can about him. His business, people he works with, what he was doing in North Carolina—”
“He wasn’t in North Carolina.” Mrs. Claussen looked confused. “He was going to Richmond on business. I have no idea how he got here.”
“Okay.” Anissa didn’t indicate that this news was a revelation to them, but now they had both men in Richmond. That couldn’t be a coincidence. “That’s great. That’s
the kind of stuff we need to know. We’re going to have officers who will need to have access to your house, his office, that kind of thing.”
“Anything,” she said. “Anything you need. I can instruct my staff to open everything on our property. You’ll need to talk to his business partners, but I’m sure they’ll cooperate.”
“That’s excellent.”
The poor woman looked as though she was hanging on by a thread. She kept squeezing the tissue in her hand like it was one of those balls given to people to pump when they’re giving blood.
Ryan’s phone buzzed. Oh boy. Mrs. Claussen #2 had arrived. She must have broken every speed limit in three states to get here.
“I’m going to take a statement from you in a few minutes,” Anissa said. “Could we get you some tea or coffee? Would you like to visit the restroom first?”
Gratitude flickered in Mrs. Claussen’s eyes. “The restroom please. Then some water.”
“Absolutely.”
Ryan and Anissa left the room. Anissa grabbed a young female officer to escort Mrs. Claussen #1 to the restroom.
“You’re going to take her statement?” Ryan asked.
“Don’t you need to meet with the other Mrs. Claussen?”
“Yeah, but . . . why do you want to take the statement?”
Anissa didn’t reply right away.
“Do you think she did it?”
Anissa shook her head. “Not personally. I think she was genuinely shocked about the manner of death. If she paid someone to do it, they took it in a direction she wasn’t expecting. And right now I don’t think she had anything to do with it, but it’s early yet.”
“Do you think she knows about the other wife?”
“No idea,” Anissa said. “I think there’s a good chance that as bad as things are now for her, they are going to get a lot worse. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
Ryan waited. Maybe if he kept quiet she would elaborate.
“Look, I lost someone,” Anissa said. “The cop who took my statement was a jerk and the experience haunted me for a long time. I don’t want that to happen to her. And I’m not saying you would be mean, but I don’t want some inexperienced rookie in there with her. I’ll let you know what I find out. You go talk to the other wife.”
Ryan didn’t have any trouble distinguishing Mrs. Claussen #2 from the rest of the people waiting in the lobby. She stood as far away from everyone else as she could get and everything about her body language—the rigid posture, the angle of her chin, even the direction her feet were pointing—indicated that she did not wish to blend in.
“Mrs. Claussen?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Investigator Ryan Parker.”
Mrs. Claussen #2 extended a manicured hand. “Please, call me Melissa,” she said with a drawl that hinted she’d spent most of her life in Georgia.
Really, Harold? Muriel and Melissa?
She tucked her long blonde hair behind her ear, flashing a diamond earring that would have been impressive had it not been in close proximity to the boulder-sized gem she was wearing on her hand.
“Could you come with me?” Ryan asked.
She picked up a bag the size of a small suitcase that rested at her feet. Same brand as Mrs. Claussen #1. Interesting.
“Certainly.”
Her high heels clicked along beside him. She smelled of something floral and had on a sheath dress that clung to her as she walked. While Mrs. Claussen #1 looked like the sixty-year-old wife of a wealthy man, Mrs. Claussen #2 looked more like his thirty-year-old daughter.
He ushered her into a room on the opposite side of the station from Mrs. Claussen #1. “Could I get you some tea? Coffee? Water?”
“Water would be perfect,” she said. “I’m parched.”
“I’ll be right back.”
He left the room and put an officer outside the door. He had plenty to choose from. A small crowd had gathered. “Back to work,” he said and they scattered. He texted Gabe as he went to the fridge to grab a water. By the time he got back to the room, Gabe was waiting on him.
“How’s it going over there?” Ryan asked.
“Anissa’s really good at this,” Gabe said. “She’s got Mrs. Claussen chatting like they were old friends. Not that there’s been any surprising news. He traveled a lot. Worked a lot. Didn’t go to church. She says they were happy.”
Maybe she had been.
“Let’s see what Mrs. Claussen #2 says,” Ryan said as they entered the room.
He introduced Gabe and the two of them sat on the sofa across from Mrs. Claussen #2.
“Mrs. Claussen—” Gabe began.
“Melissa,” she said with a coy smile and an appreciative look that didn’t belong on the face of a married woman.
Gabe had noticed. Ryan could tell by the way he shifted in his chair, leaning toward her. This woman had no idea who she was flirting with.
Was she that callous? How could she behave in such a seductive way when her husband was missing? Or was this how she was with everyone?
Gabe broke the news to Mrs. Claussen #2, who received it with far less drama. And yet somehow, while she didn’t react in anger, her sadness was more palpable. The coquettish woman disappeared and a heartbroken one took her place.
It was too soon to tell if the sorrow was genuine or a skillful facade.
“Mrs. Claussen, could you tell us about your husband? What he did? How you met? How long you’ve been married?”
She took a sip of her water. “He moved to Atlanta eleven years ago. His mother was dying and he wanted to be closer to her. She passed away two years later, but he’d fallen in love with Atlanta and didn’t want to leave even after he went back to work full time. We met five years ago. Fell in love. Married three months later. I told him I’d move to Chicago with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He’s a good man. Goes to church when he’s home. Spoils me with gifts. He travels a lot, so he’s usually only home a couple of days a week.”
“That must be hard,” Gabe said, his brow furrowed in concern.
She gave a small shrug. “It’s all we’ve ever known,” she said. “I’m assuming you already know about his work.”
Something about the way she said “his work” prickled Ryan’s instincts. “We’d appreciate it if you could tell us what you know about it.”
Her expression grew quite serious. “Don’t worry. He never told me anything he wasn’t supposed to.”
What?
“I understood how things worked. His work was dangerous. He worried so much over me. Didn’t want people to know we were married. We had a small civil ceremony. Never told anyone. He promised to retire in two more years. Then we were going to travel the world.” She let a sob break free. “That isn’t going to happen now, is it?”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Claussen,” Ryan said.
She shook her head like she was trying to clear it. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sir. But I don’t care if you’re sorry or not.” She looked at Ryan with tear-filled eyes. “What I care about is what you’re going to do to catch the evil person who did this. I know he had some fierce enemies, but you have to find his killer.”
“We’re doing everything we possibly can,” Ryan said. “But we’re going to need your help.”
“Anything,” she said as she dabbed at her eyes. “Whatever you need. Financial records. Calendars. Computers. Where we went out to eat and who our friends were. I’ll tell you anything you want.”
“That’s a very specific list,” he said.
She blew her nose before she spoke. “I was married to a spy, sir. And I watch a lot of cop shows. Between the two, I’m guessing that’s most of what you’ll need access to. Do you even need my permission for any of it?”
She thought she was married to a spy?
Maybe she had been. That was an interesting angle to pursue. But for now, he wanted to keep her talking.
“Under the circumstances, we’ll get a warrant for most of what you offered, but it
certainly is easier if you provide it willingly.”
“Then you can have it. I’ll call our attorney and accountant and instruct them to provide anything you need. Wills, trusts, insurance policies. Whatever.”
“Would you be okay with us sending some officers to your home?”
After a slight pause, her shoulders sagged. “Why not? I have nothing to hide. And Harry never kept anything at the house. Said it wasn’t safe. We don’t even have family pictures or anything.”
“Melissa,” Gabe said in a soft voice, “this is important. We need to know if he ever told you who he worked for.”
Her lips quivered. “Will he get in trouble?”
“No, ma’am. But we need to know so we can know how best to direct our investigation.”
“Do you think something he was working on could have gotten him killed?”
“That’s certainly a possibility we are considering.”
She took several deep breaths. “The CIA,” she whispered.
Ryan forced himself to look everywhere except at Gabe.
Wow.
He wasn’t an expert, but there was absolutely no way Harold Claussen was a spy for the CIA. At least they now knew how he’d worked the scam. It was possible that neither of these women had any idea about the other wife. Claussen must have believed he’d fooled them both.
Or had he married two of the most convincing liars in history?
An hour later, Ryan joined Gabe and Anissa in a conference room. The captain walked in ten seconds later.
“Well?” he asked.
Anissa and Gabe stared at the table.
“It’s a mess,” Ryan said.
“I kind of guessed that.”
“From what we’ve been able to put together, Harold Jackson Claussen married Mrs. Claussen #1 when they were both nineteen years old. He went by Jack and they settled outside of Chicago as he finished his studies in electrical engineering. He worked in an electronics firm for about ten years before joining a new venture providing computer networking support. That venture proved to be wildly successful. They expanded into some other Midwestern cities, then to the East Coast. DC, Atlanta, Tallahassee, Orlando. Claussen stayed fairly close to home in Chicago until his kids were in college. Traveled a lot but mostly in the Midwest. Then ten years ago, he took a position as the vice president in charge of East Coast operations.”
Beneath the Surface Page 23