by Blake Pierce
“So we’re cold-calling friends of Frank Nobilini’s?”
“Pretty much.”
DeMarco had no arguments or further questions. Kate felt like she was scrutinizing DeMarco’s every move. After her reaction to delivering news of Jack’s death to Missy when the case started, she was afraid something similar might happen after the most recent visit. But DeMarco seemed to be taking it all in stride, making no snide comments or acting rude or defensive in any way. She was, though, asking more questions than usual. And Kate was pretty sure she knew why.
“We joked about it before on the phone,” Kate said, “but Duran asked you to babysit me, didn’t he?”
“More or less. I’m supposed to keep track of your methodology and how you approach the case.”
“He thinks I’m slipping in my old age, I take it?”
“No, not at all. He thinks you’re as sharp as ever, actually. But—and if you ever tell him I told you this, I’ll deny it to the grave and never talk to you again—he thinks that coming
off of retirement and being in this sort of part-time limbo, you’re being a little lackluster in adhering to bureau protocol. He didn’t use the term loose cannon, but that’s basically what he was getting at.”
“Loose cannon,” Kate said with a little laugh. “Hey, I’ve been called worse.”
“And if this case keeps going the way it has,” DeMarco said with her own laugh, “I’m sure you’ll continue to hear worse.”
Kate knew that it was a joke, but it still hurt a bit. Whatever babysitting tasks Duran had tasked DeMarco with, she was taking them seriously. And that was fine with Kate. She had no problem proving to two different people that she still had enough gas in the tank—maybe even enough to not only wrap Jack Tucker’s case, but Frank Nobilini’s as well.
***
The best man to speak with—who had been the most helpful and insightful when Kate had been in Ashton eight years ago for Frank’s murder—was no longer a local. He had taken a job in Iceland and moved his entire family to Reykjavik. That left a handful of other men to visit, none of whom Kate remembered clearly from the Nobilini case.
The first was a man named Robert Jansen. He lived on the same block as the Nobilinis and had a job as an executive banker in Manhattan. That’s how they ended up going back into Manhattan, scrambling for a parking space in the hurried post-lunch congestion of Midtown. After grabbing a quick lunch of their own, they paid a visit to one of the largest banks in New York City. The first-floor ceilings were cavernous, all glass and black décor, like some legendary castle with a modern industrial twist.
They checked in at the front lobby desk, greeted by a woman who, as cruel as the judgment seemed, looked like she was meant to work at a high-scale bank.
“We need to speak with Robert Jensen,” Kate said.
“Of course,” the woman said in a rehearsed yet cheerful tone. “I assume you have an appointment.”
“No.”
“Well,” DeMarco said, leaning forward and quickly showing her ID, “we do now. This is urgent, ma’am. We need to see him as soon as possible.”
The woman was flustered as she got up from the desk and nodded to them. “Oh, yes, of course. Have a seat, ladies. It may take five or ten minutes, but I’ll get him for you.”
They took a seat and it took Kate less than ten seconds to see that DeMarco was still very antsy. “What is it?” Kate asked.
“I don’t want you to think I’m doubting your instincts, but it seems almost like a waste of time to be venturing back to this case. If there were hard evidence, sure, I’d understand. But we’re talking to people that you talked to eight years ago—people that even by your description, weren’t able to offer help.”
“No, that’s a legitimate concern. However, I also know that time heals all things. If these people were purposely not sharing dirt on the Nobilinis, the chances are such loyalty might have waned over time. Plus, the fact that we’re still asking about it eight years later might clue them in to just how important it is.”
DeMarco nodded her head but still did not seem convinced. Kate did not take offense. After all, in the end, it might turn out that DeMarco was right.
It took another six minutes before the woman from the desk reappeared. She was escorting a short plump man down an expansive corridor that led between the check-in desk and the remainder of the bank that sat beyond. The man spotted Kate and DeMarco and came walking over with the kind of caution a man might show as he walked through an active minefield.
There seemed to be a flicker of recognition as he looked to Kate but it was fleeting. He took a seat next to them, leaning in and speaking quietly. “I’m told you’re from the FBI?”
“Yes,” Kate said.
He looked worried, making Kate wonder if there might be something he was doing here at work that he was afraid might potentially attract the FBI. But she tucked this feeling to the side. She could not allow herself to be distracted by such rabbit trails.
“I don’t know if you remember me,” Kate said. “I spoke with you about eight years ago after—”
“That’s it. I thought you looked familiar! You were the agent looking into Frank Nobilini’s murder, right?”
“That’s correct. I’m Agent Kate Wise, and this is my partner, Agent DeMarco. We’re actually looking back into that case to try to solve a recent murder—another person from Ashton, the body discovered here in the city.”
“Oh my God,” Jensen said. Clearly, he had not yet heard about Jack Tucker. “Well, what can I do? I’m not sure how I can help.”
“In the case notes from the Nobilini murder, I have you down as being rather helpful. You were a friend of Frank’s correct?”
“I was, yes. Not best friends by any stretch of the imagination, but I knew him well.”
“And did you or your wife know Jennifer well?” DeMarco asked.
“Not as well as Frank. Jennifer was the type that was quiet at parties. Always sitting by herself. Not in a rude or isolated way, but she just wasn’t as outgoing as Frank.”
“But in your opinion, she was good to Frank?” Kate asked.
“God yes. Those two were inseparable. The type that was always holding hands or exchanging little kisses out of nowhere. Really sweet.”
“So if I asked you if you thought there was any way she might have been involved in an affair, your reaction would be what?”
“No way. You know, I don’t even know if she’s dated a single time since Frank died. They were maddeningly in love. Sickeningly so, if I’m being honest.” He smiled, as if remembering the two of them together. “They just…they had it together, you know? A lot of other couples in Ashton wanted what they had.”
“Given that Ashton is such a small town, I find it hard to believe that not a single negative word was never breathed about either of them,” Kate said.
Jensen seemed to be thinking about something, as if his brain and snagged on a particular memory. “If I’m being honest, I don’t remember anything negative about them while they were alive. But pretty recently—maybe within the last two years, actually—I do remember one thing.”
“What was it?”
“I got a promotion here at the bank two years ago. It meant more pay, but also more work. A lot of weekend trips away to Chicago and Dallas in particular. My wife is a stay-at-home mom but she does have a small business that she operates from home so she attends the occasional conference on the weekends here and there. So we looked into hiring someone to help around the house. Not a nanny per se, but more like a housekeeper. We have four kids, so we thought it was necessary. We asked around for good reputable housekeepers and got the names of a few women. We interview three and one of them used to work for the Nobilinis—right around the time they had their first kid, I believe. We asked about her experience and even told her that we had known Frank and Jennifer quite well. She told us about her time there and one of the things she honed in on for highlighting her experience was how she had handled
everything in stride and grace in the midst of Frank and Jennifer arguing all the time. This, of course, shocked my wife and I.”
“Did she say what the arguments were about?” Kate asked.
“No. She didn’t go into detail. But she said it was almost a weekly thing. Sometimes, she said, it would be pretty bad. Honestly, though, that’s about as detailed as she got.”
“Did you end up hiring her?” DeMarco asked.
“No, we ended up going with someone else and it’s worked out well.”
“What’s the name of the woman that worked for the Nobilinis?” Kate asked.
“Lizzy Trabisky.”
“Do you know if she is currently working as a housekeeper in Ashton?”
“Yeah, actually, I think she is. For the Nolan family.”
Kate felt a little out of sorts; here she was, elated that they finally found someone who had something negative to say about a murder victim from eight years ago. It was an odd thing to feel triumphant about for sure.
“Thank you, Mr. Jensen,” Kate said as she got to her feet.
“Forgive me for asking,” Jensen said. “But two murders so similar, eight years apart. Is this something we should worry about? We—as in anyone living in Ashton.”
“It’s far too early to make such a statement, but based on the span of time between the murders, I would highly doubt it.” But even as she gave this answer, she dwelled on the idea for the first time. She started to wonder if there had been other murders in Ashton that might be linked to the Tuckers and Nobilinis but, because they had seemed so common in nature, had not been highlighted.
Stop overcomplicating things, she told herself. You’re already having to reach back into a nearly decade-old case. How much harder do you want to make it on yourself?
Robert Jensen seemed to take comfort in her answer, though. He gave them a quick and awkward wave goodbye as he headed back to work. Kate and DeMarco headed straight for the door, finally with a promising lead to explore.
As they got into the car, Kate tried to recall how many times they had made the jaunt back and forth between New York City and Ashton, but she had lost count.
Hopefully, she thought as she wound her way through traffic, this will be the last time.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
It was hard to consider it ironic because Ashton was so small, but the Nolan family lived on the same street as Cass Nobilini, right on the outskirts of Ashton’s main hub. It was a very quaint cottage-style house. An honest-to-God tire swing hung from one of the several trees in the side yard, which was separated from the neighboring yard with a beautiful yet cliché white picket fence.
As it turned out, Lizzy Trabisky was much the same as the house: beautiful, but cliché. She looked to be roughly thirty with gorgeous auburn hair and just enough makeup on to highlight her sultry eyes but not be overbearing. She wore a thin spaghetti-strapped tank top that was cut just above the belly button and a pair of yoga pants that were so tight, they may as well have been painted on.
She answered the door with a confused smile. Kate hated herself a bit for her initial reaction of Lizzy. She had never truly believed that people this pretty could be legitimate. She did her best to shove that feeling aside as she and DeMarco introduced themselves.
“Yeah,” Lizzy said with feigned sorrow. “I heard about Mr. Tucker a few days ago. It’s so terrible. But I don’t see how it’s the same as what happened to Mr. Nobilini.”
“Well, that’s what we’re working on,” DeMarco said. “And in speaking with Robert Jensen, we discovered that you once worked for the Nobilinis. Is that correct?”
“Yes. It was right before he was killed. I think they let me go about four months or so before his body was found.”
“Can we come inside and talk it over?” DeMarco asked.
“I’d rather do it on the porch,” she said. “One of my duties as the Nolans’ housekeeper is to serve as a part-time nanny for their youngest kids. Darcy is three, and she’s down for a nap right now.”
“That’s fine,” Kate said.
“Want me to grab some tea or lemonade or something?”
“No thanks. This shouldn’t take very long.”
Seeming a little disappointed, Lizzy stepped out onto the porch. There were five wicker chairs situated around the porch and each of them took one, right beside one another.
“We wanted to speak to you,” Kate said, “because Mr. Jensen said he had interviewed you about a housekeeping job in the past.”
“He did. About two years ago, I think it’s been.”
“During that interview, you spoke a bit about your time working with the Nobilinis. Particularly about some arguments they’d had. Do you remember any of those arguments?”
“Not well, but I do remember them arguing quite a bit. I also remember, though, how the Jensens seemed very shocked by that. I think they had this picture-perfect image of the Nobilinis in their mind.”
“Was there ever physical abuse?” DeMarco asked.
“No, not that I knew of. Some of the arguments got a little heated, but I’m fairly certain neither of them had the sort of mean streak to actually attack one another.”
Kate didn’t quite know why, but she was fairly certain Lizzy was lying to them. It was all over her body language and the way she refused to keep her eyes in one place. She had a shitty poker face and, as far as Kate was concerned, it was telling her just about everything she needed to know.
“With all due respect,” Kate said, leaning forward in her seat, “I’m going to ask you to please stop lying. I don’t know what you’re lying about, but I need the truth here. Frank died all those years ago and we never found the killer. And now there’s a good chance that he’s back, and has killed Jack Tucker. There’s a connection somewhere in there and we can’t find it because for some reason, no one in this town cares to shed some light on the dark places. I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Lizzy…but I need you to tell us the truth.”
With each few words Kate spoke, she could see a sheen of tears gathering in the corners of Lizzy’s eyes. She went tense and there was a single moment when Kate thought she was going to get up from her chair and escape inside.
“Bear in mind,” Kate added, “anything you tell us stays with us and, at most, our superiors and local PD. No one in this town has to know anything you tell us.”
“I just…God, I just wish I’d never worked for them.”
Kate gave her a moment to get a rein on her feelings and then pressed forward. “What was it, Lizzy? What happened?”
She started right away, as if afraid she might lose the nerve. “Well, they were always bickering about something. Money, how to raise the kids, what church to go to on Sundays, things like that. But when they were in public or had people over at the house, it was totally different. They were like this dream couple. But there was one argument that was the worst. I nearly missed it because I was scheduled to leave at six…that was when my job was over for the day. But I was behind on something—I honestly forget what—and was still there around six thirty or so when they started yelling at each other.
“I think what happened was that Frank had found some sort of message on Jennifer’s phone…a message from another man. I don’t know what it said, but it was enough to make him accuse her of cheating. She blew up on him, asking him how he could dare accuse her of such a thing. I saw that it was getting bad, so I took the kids out into the front yard and drew on the sidewalk with some sidewalk chalk. I caught bits and pieces of the argument from outside. He threatened to take the kids and leave. She dared him to. There was a lot of shouting and then it was just over.”
“Did anything at all happen after that?” Kate asked.
“Not with them, no. But Jennifer came outside a few minutes later and told me everything was good and that I could go home. I worked for them for three more days and then they let me go. I don’t know for sure if it was because they knew what I’d heard or what…but it’s what I have always
assumed.”
“Did you have any kind of interactions from them after that?”
“No. But it seemed weird to me. They never gave me a straight answer as to why they fired me, but they told me that I could use them as a recommendation for future jobs. And as far as I know, they’ve done that at least twice.”
“What about the kids? Do you see them around anymore?”
“Here and there, just in passing. I don’t think they really know anything that happened before their dad died. That’s sort of become their world, you know?” She wiped a tear away and looked surprised that she had been crying at all.
“Thank you, Lizzy,” Kate said. “I know this was hard for you. But if you don’t mind me asking, why were you trying to lie about it?”
She shrugged and looked down to the boards of the porch floor. “I don’t know. It seems wrong to remember the dead like that, you know? And I know how this town feels about Jennifer. She’s treated with this weird sort of reverence. Everyone loved her before Frank died but then after he was murdered…I don’t know. People see her like a saint or something.”
Well, that makes the next step in this case a very awkward one, Kate thought. She looked over to DeMarco and the slow expression of despair creeping across her features indicated that she knew where they needed to go next as well.
They had to pay a visit to Jennifer Nobilini.
And they were going to have to ask her—apparently the patron saint of Ashton, New York—about the potential affair she’d had just a few weeks before her husband had been killed.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Jennifer Nobilini looked like she had aged almost twenty years in the past eight. She looked worn down. She still had a slender frame and a well-chiseled face, but she looked perpetually tired and, despite the beaming smile she offered, a little rundown when she answered the door. While she did look surprised to see Kate, it was clear that she recognized her.