“I’ll take them out after the babies’ first feeding. Ethan and Rosie probably have their breakfast before the garbagemen are even thinking of getting out of bed,” Shannon offered. “Do the cans go on the left or the right side of the driveway?”
“The left,” Susan said, frowning. “ Shannon, do you have a minute?”
“I… Do you want me to put these outside first?”
“Just toss them out the back door for now.”
“I don’t like to leave the twins alone for too long.”
Susan reached across the counter and flipped the switch on a small plastic box. “We’ll hear them on the baby monitor if they start to yell. Sit down. Do you want a cup of tea or anything?”
“No. I’m fine.” Shannon remained standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and staring down at a spot in the middle of the tile floor.
Susan plunged right in. “There’s been a murder in the neighborhood. Right next door, in fact.” She watched Shannon ’s face carefully. Did the nurse seem startled? Wouldn’t anyone be startled by her statement?
But Shannon remained composed. “Who died?” she asked.
“Nadine Baines. She was over here yesterday when you arrived.” Susan wondered about Shannon ’s lack of reaction to this news. Perhaps nurses were more familiar with death than people in other fields? Especially nurses who had worked in nursing homes?
“How was she killed?”
“She was stabbed…” Susan remembered the blood-spattered kitchen. “Many times,” she added.
Shannon shifted her attention to the wrought iron lamp suspended over the table, but she didn’t ask any more questions.
“The police will probably be over here sometime this evening,” Susan continued. “They may want to ask you if you heard anything or saw anyone… since you were the only person home here when the murder happened.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t the only person here when the murder occurred. Chrissy was also home. You told your friend on the phone that Chrissy found the body. So the murder must have happened earlier. While she and I were here taking care of the babies.”
“I… You’re right!” Susan wondered if Shannon heard the relief in her voice. “Well, then Brett probably has already realized that and he might not want to bother you.”
“Who’s Brett?”
“Brett Fortesque. Hancock’s chief of police. We’re old friends.”
“The chief of police is one of your friends?”
“Yes. I’ve helped him solve a murder or two in the past,” Susan added modestly.
“This doesn’t seem to be the type of place where people would be murdered.”
“You might think that, but-”
“That sounds like Ethan,” Shannon interrupted as the baby monitor emitted a loud wail.
Susan hurried over to turn down the volume. “You can tell them apart? Just by hearing them?”
“Ethan’s voice is a bit higher than Rosie’s. I’d better go get him. He’s going to wake up his sister.”
Shannon left the garbage bags on the floor and hurried back to her charges as Brett Fortesque walked in the back door.
“Sounds like my house,” he said, a smile on his handsome face. Fatherhood had brought nothing but joy to his life. Of course, he was here and, if his infant daughter was unhappy, his wife was coping with her.
“Where’s Chrissy?” Susan asked, reaching into a cupboard for a pair of mugs.
“Chrissy left a few minutes ago. Isn’t she here?”
“She probably came in the front door. I was talking to Shannon and didn’t hear her.” She waved the mugs in the air. “Coffee? Or maybe a glass of wine?” It was well past five PM she realized.
“The wine sounds great, but coffee will have to do. It’s going to be a long night.”
“Have you told Donald about his wife’s death?”
“No. We called him at his office, but his secretary-or someone-said he was out with a client and not expected back at work today.”
Susan nodded. “Apparently real estate is like that. Nadine was always complaining that she couldn’t reach him.”
“He doesn’t have a cell phone?”
“That’s what I asked. But she said Donald had been interrupted once too often when he had just about made a sale. So now he just turns it off whenever he’s with clients.”
Brett nodded.
“Do you think it’s significant? Do you think Donald killed his wife?”
“I have no idea. There is no sign that the house had been burgled-at least nothing I could see in my brief look around. But she might have surprised someone breaking in and been killed.”
“But you just said nothing was taken.”
“I said it didn’t look as though anything had been taken. It’s too early to tell. Donald will know if anything is missing.”
Susan wasn’t so sure about that. In her experience, husbands didn’t necessarily know where things went around the house and quite possibly weren’t all that likely to discover anything missing. A thief could take the silver and a fortune in jewels, but as long as the television, DVD player, TiVo, CD player, and his computer were left behind, Jed certainly might not notice. But Susan was a loyal wife and didn’t disagree.
“I-What’s that?” Brett interrupted himself as loud shrieks drowned out anything else he might have been about to say.
“Twins.” Susan once again turned down the baby monitor.
“They certainly sound unhappy. Do you need to go to them?”
“No, Chrissy and Shannon will be able to deal with them. Why?”
“If you have the time, I’d like to hear what you know about Nadine.”
“Of course,” Susan answered and then paused.
“Susan, no matter what you thought about her, I need information.”
Susan grimaced. “I know, but I didn’t really know her all that well. At least, not enough to like her. Maybe if I had known her better I would have discovered many redeeming characteristics.”
“Why don’t you just tell me about the characteristics that you didn’t like, as well as anything you know about her background, relatives, marriage-you know the drill.”
“Well, Donald and Nadine moved in next door just a few months ago. And about a week later, Nadine moved into my kitchen.”
“What?”
Susan sighed. “Nadine had too much free time and was just a bit too self-involved. I had offered to help them out when they moved in-tell them the name of the best dry cleaner, stuff like that. You know how you do with a new neighbor.”
Brett smiled at her. “I know how nice people like you and Jed do, yes. Go on.”
“Well, in their case none of that was really necessary. Donald’s mother has lived in town for years. In fact, Nadine told me about a wonderful dressmaker downtown who I’d never heard of…”
“So she knew her way around Hancock.”
“Yes. The problem was, I think, that she didn’t have enough to do and she needed a lot of attention. So she began to stop over here once a day or so-just to chat. That’s how she put it.”
“Bugged the hell out of you, didn’t it?” Brett’s smile broadened into a grin.
“Yes. It did. There was no getting rid of her. She didn’t take hints. I don’t think she even heard hints. I would say things like I’ve got to get this done and she would tell me to go ahead and she’d keep me company. But it wasn’t only her presence that was so irritating; it was that she was so sure I wanted to hear every detail of her life, everything she thought…” Susan stopped. “But that doesn’t mean I know everything about her life.”
“You didn’t listen,” Brett guessed.
“Most of the time, no. Oh, I did at first. I heard about every place she had lived and how Hancock compared. And her problems with decorators and deliverymen when she was getting settled. And how hard it was on her that she had to be home to answer the door for all these people and how they
didn’t show up on time. And the store that sent the wrong curtain fabric… Things that happen to everyone. Minor things that happen to everyone. But Nadine thought that when they happened to her, they were a crisis. And she made a big deal about them. She was always writing letters to the heads of huge international conglomerates to complain about an employee or some small thing that had happened to her. And she got responses, too-polite ones. I was amazed.”
“Employees? Did she ever get anyone fired?”
“Not that I know of, but she sure tried. She used to rant and rage over the simplest mistake. Like if she ordered a salad and asked for the dressing on the side but then it came drenched in blue cheese, she wouldn’t just send it back and ask for a substitution; she would insist on speaking to the owner of the restaurant and then go on and on-in public-about what had happened. And it happened a lot because she never just ordered what was on the menu. She always had to have something special. We ate dinner with them once at the Hancock Inn, but Jed said never again. Do you think that could be the answer? Maybe she was killed by an angry… uh… an angry unemployed person,” she said, realizing just how silly she sounded.
But Brett took her suggestion seriously. “People have been killed for less than that. The loss of a job can change a person’s life. And not for the better.”
“But I don’t know anyone who was actually fired.”
“It’s still something to keep in mind. Tell me more about her. If she’s been sitting in your house daily for the past few months talking, you must have learned a lot.”
“Besides that she liked to listen to herself.”
“Besides that she liked to listen to herself,” he agreed. “How about some background. Where she grew up. Does she have any family living nearby? What sort of shape was her marriage in?”
“Actually she grew up in Connecticut, up near Hartford. She was an only child. You know, I always wondered if that’s why she expected so much attention. It can be lonely being an only child. Anyway, she seemed to have a fairly normal childhood. She complained that her mother was a feminist and didn’t allow her to get involved in activities she considered sexist-like the Girl Scouts-which is not at all a sexist organization as far as I’m concerned…” Susan realized she was about to go off on a tangent and returned to the topic. “She was encouraged to play sports on the boys’ teams. But other than that, it sounded like she lived a traditional suburban life. I don’t remember her mentioning her father too much. He was an expert in bridge engineering and was away from home a lot.
“I do know she met Donald in college. She went to Trinity and I think he went to Fairfield. They met her junior year and got married right after graduation.”
“What was her major? What sort of work did she do?”
“Interestingly enough, while she listened to her mother and prepared for a career-she had a degree in marketing-she never worked. She always claimed that Donald wanted a traditional stay-at-home wife and so that’s what she did.”
“So she didn’t listen to her mother after all.”
“I guess not. As far as I know, she’s never worked. In fact I always thought that was a bit odd. I mean, she doesn’t have any children and not a whole lot of interest in domestic things. She hated to cook although she has a wonderful kitchen. Her house is immaculate, but she has a cleaning woman who comes twice a week so I don’t suppose she spends any time on her hands and knees scrubbing the floors.”
“What does she do with her time? Does she have any hobbies?”
“Not unless you consider shopping and taking care of yourself a hobby.”
“What sort of care?”
“Oh, you know. Working out. Getting your hair done. Manicures, pedicures.”
“The usual.”
“And the not so usual as well. She went to a specialist in some sort of stone massage, and an Alexander Technique teacher, a Rolfer, two or three herbalists, a practitioner of Chinese medicine…”
“Any reason why she took such good care of herself?”
“Nothing else to do?” Susan realized she was being seriously bitchy. “I shouldn’t say that. She had a cancer scare a few years ago-irregular cells in a Pap smear-and she always said it changed her life. It probably did. I’ve been lucky enough to have good health. I don’t know how I would react to something like that.”
“After the initial shock was over, you would be mature and sensible, just like you always are.”
“I hope so,” she said, less assured than he was on this subject. “Anyway, Nadine put an enormous amount of time and effort into taking care of herself.”
“And money. I assume these services aren’t cheap.”
“No, but they have a lot of money.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, Donald has sold a lot of houses around here in the past few years. And there aren’t many that would sell for under a million and most go for a lot more than that. I don’t know exactly what percentage of the sale goes into his pocket, but more than enough for Nadine to indulge, I’d imagine.”
“Six percent.”
“What?”
“The agent’s fee-it can run as high as six percent of the sale price. Erika thinks we need more room now that the baby’s here so we’ve just begun looking at houses in the area-not that a policeman’s income buys much around here.” He frowned. “So you said Donald works for his mother.”
“Well, he’s certainly connected to her agency. If you’re in the market for a house, you would have heard of Blaine Baines.”
“If you’ve picked up any newspaper in southern Connecticut or the Real Estate section of the Sunday New York Times, you’ve heard of Blaine Baines Executive Homes and Estates. The ads are everywhere. And they all have her photograph prominently displayed. Is she old enough to have grown children?”
“I think she’s using a photograph that was taken more than a few years ago,” Susan explained. “Although she looks pretty good for a woman in her early sixties. But I did hear that one of her husbands was a plastic surgeon.”
“Just how many husbands has she had?”
“I think five-or maybe six. I do know that Donald’s father was her first and Travis Dean-you know him; he works down at the Field Club-was her last.”
“The only Travis I know at the club is the bartender.”
“That’s him.”
“He couldn’t be more than twenty-five.”
“I think closer to thirty, but yes, he’s a lot younger than she is. Anyway, they’re divorced.” Susan wasn’t sure what she thought about any of this. On one hand, it seemed very liberal and up-to-date for a woman to be involved with a younger man. On the other hand, she had a twenty-one-year-old son and she sure hoped he would fall in love with someone his own age. The last thing in the world she wanted was a daughter-in-law as old as she was!
“You said they moved to town recently. Did Donald just start working for his mother?”
“No, he ran her office over in New Canaan for years and years. I got the impression that he moved here to help out his mother…” She hesitated.
“But you’re not so sure.”
“Not really. I’m not sure where I heard it or how I got the impression, but for some reason I think Donald’s mother wasn’t too thrilled with the situation. But she owned the firm so she could certainly have him work wherever she wanted.”
“Interesting. How did Nadine get along with her high-powered mother-in-law?”
“I think just fine. I know Blaine liked her. She was always saying that the best thing Donald ever did was marry Nadine. And if Nadine didn’t reciprocate those feelings, she was smart enough to shut up about it.”
Brett nodded. “It’s important for relatives to get along.”
While Susan agreed with him, that wasn’t exactly what she had been saying.
“If there’s nothing else important, I’d better get back to the crime scene,” Brett said, standing up.
“No, there’s nothing else that I can think of
,” Susan lied.
TEN
THERE WAS A DINER ON A SIDE STREET IN HANCOCK THAT few residents patronized. Frequented by workmen, contractors, landscapers, and groups of disenfranchised high school students, the booths were nearly as greasy as the food, but that didn’t matter as much to the clientele as the fact that they were unlikely to run into their employers-or their parents.
A young man slouched in the rear booth, looking much the worse for wear. His silky blond roots betrayed an inept dye job on hair that drooped into his eyes. The way he fell on the food his waitress brought was a sign of recent hard times.
It was a slow night and the waitress propped one hip against his table, ready to chat. “I don’t think I recognize you. You a student at the high school?” she asked amiably.
“No.”
“Do you work here in town?”
“No.”
“Just passing through?”
He looked up from his burger and fries. “Yeah. That’s it. Just passing through.” And he was gonna keep passing. What a mistake to pause in this town. Here he was trying to avoid the police, and the house next door to the place Shannon was working was swarming with them. God, she sure could attract trouble. But she was generous. He’d say that for her. He stopped eating long enough to pat the bulging wallet in his jacket pocket. But he wasn’t going to hang around here for long, that was for sure. Staying here could bring him nothing but trouble.
Susan sat up in bed and turned on the light hanging over her nightstand. “Jed, are you asleep?”
They had been married for over three decades; he knew answering “yes” wouldn’t help him. “It’s after midnight,” he replied.
She ignored his statement and continued. “I’m worried about Chrissy. She has hardly even glanced at her baby presents.”
“I was going to talk to you about that,” he said, sitting up. “Do you think we could move them out of my library? I was going to pay some bills after dinner tonight and couldn’t even find them in that mess.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I hid them. But about Chrissy, Jed…”
He was completely awake now. “Why did you hide the bills?”
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