by Carol A. Guy
Adelaide grabbed her coat and quickly slipped it on. Fran didn’t bother introducing her to the man. As brother and sister moved into the living room, holding hands, Adelaide let herself out, closing the door as she went.
Chapter Seventeen
Adelaide called her son’s cell phone number the minute she left the parsonage. He answered on the second ring. It was almost four o’clock. “Is Douglas still there?”
“He just left, why?” Daniel sounded a little short tempered.
“I need to see you now.”
“Come to the station. By the way I just got a call from Mary Ellen Oliver. She’s coming in to talk to me shortly. Any idea what that’s about?”
“It’s probably best if she tells you herself. I think she wants me there though,” she told him before hanging up.
Adelaide made a detour by her house to pick up some blueberry muffins she had in the freezer. She put them on a plate and popped them in the microwave to thaw, then put them in a covered plastic container. She walked the block to the police station through two additional inches of new-fallen snow. It was still coming down at a good clip. She surmised the prediction of four more inches might be a conservative estimate.
Since it was Sunday, the city offices were closed. Only the police station on the left side of the building’s main hallway was a hubbub of activity. She’d arrived just after shift change, so officers were coming and going. She made a beeline for Daniel’s office. He was on the phone, so she put the muffins on his desk, then went to the kitchenette next to his office to get him a cup of coffee and herself some hot tea. When she returned to his office he was off the phone, eating one of the warm muffins.
“You look tired, Mother,” he commented between bites.
“You look tired also, my son,” she countered.
He smiled and took a sip of the coffee. “Okay, what’s up?”
She told him about her visit to Susan. “She claims she spent the afternoon with Douglas.”
“Where?” Daniel had stopped eating. Now he was making notes on a yellow legal pad.
“Some special spot they frequented, out beyond Wrigley’s I think.” She stopped short of telling him about Mary Ellen’s revelation.
“When he was questioned on Saturday evening he said he was with Fran and she backed him up. Then earlier today she came in to recant, claiming she didn’t know where he was yesterday afternoon.”
Adelaide nodded. “I visited Fran after I talked with Susan. She told me she’d lied for Douglas then came here to tell you the truth.”
Daniel sat back, exhaling slowly. “So, maybe Susan and Underwood were together. He probably didn’t want to admit it because he was still trying to keep the affair a secret.”
She could tell he wasn’t convinced. “Susan claims she broke it off with Douglas that afternoon.”
“Do you believe her?”
Adelaide shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“She showed up here with Mark Cardosa. He’s representing her.”
“I know. She told me. I think she bowed to some family pressure there. But in view of the way things are looking, it might not be a bad idea.”
Daniel suddenly stood up, looking out through the glass partition. “There’s Mary Ellen Oliver.” He signaled for her to join them.
Adelaide turned around just as the librarian came into the office. She acted very nervous as she took the chair next to Adelaide’s. She didn’t remove her coat and fidgeted with the small leather purse on her lap.
When she finally spoke, her voice was tremulous. “I thought about it, over and over. I decided instead of making the chief come to my place I should come right in here to make my statement. I’m so glad you’re here, though, Adelaide.”
Adelaide patted the woman’s hand. “Just tell Daniel what you saw.”
Daniel glanced between the two of them, a look of bemused curiosity on his face. “Okay, what’s this all about?”
Slowly, Mary Ellen told about sighting Douglas Underwood and Susan Hatfield driving west on State Route 550 out of town. She pinpointed the exact date—two weeks before. “It just seemed so odd. I mean it was a Thursday evening, she should have been at choir practice. I know it lasts from seven to eight-thirty, same as ours. I’m not in our choir, of course. Can’t carry a tune. But I do know the schedule. They were in her car, the blue Honda. They looked very…cozy in the front seat.”
Daniel called to Ken Lafferty, one of the younger officers on the force who was filling out some paperwork at his desk. As he entered the office he nodded a greeting Adelaide’s way. Originally from Rosewood, Ken was tall and muscular with thick black hair and cobalt blue eyes.
“Show Miss Oliver to one of the vacant desks, Ken. She needs to write out her statement,” Daniel directed. He turned his attention to Mary Ellen. “Officer Lafferty will get you set up out in the squad room. Just write down what you told me, then sign and date it. Thanks for coming in.”
Mary Ellen smiled at him, then gave Adelaide a grateful look. She followed Ken Lafferty from the office, clutching her purse to her chest.
Once Mary Ellen was out of earshot, Daniel said, “I’m more convinced than ever that those two conspired to kill her husband so they could be together. Problem is, we have no real proof. We need to find that murder weapon.”
“It could be anywhere, you know.”
“We’re not even sure exactly what it was, but the ME says the blade was flat and thin. The wound track in Hatfield’s neck was three inches deep, but from the shape of the wound he thinks the blade could be longer. Anything come to mind?”
Adelaide’s mind felt fuzzy. She was just too tired to think clearly right now. “Not offhand.”
“I even had two officers searching the alleys, looking in garbage cans that were in plain sight, but no dice. There wasn’t a can sitting out in the alley behind the parsonage, either.”
“I believe they keep it in the tool shed behind the house until pickup day, which is Monday afternoon in that neighborhood.”
“Well, we’re applying for search warrants. With any luck by tomorrow morning we can begin serving them.”
“Don’t forget to include their cars in the scope of the warrant,” she reminded him.
Daniel smiled. “Cars are included, believe me. I’m certain the weapon is gone by now, but we have to do something. Officers have started re-interviewing the people who were at the bazaar yesterday. We’re hoping someone will recall something important. We’re also talking to Jerry’s clients to see if anyone had a grudge for any reason.”
“Where did you get the list of clients?” Adelaide was pretty sure that information was supposed to be kept confidential.
“We persuaded the secretary to print it off.”
Adelaide wasn’t really friends with Marsha Burns, the woman who worked in the Hatfield insurance office. She knew she lived in Rosewood and was single. Since Adelaide usually just dropped her premium in the slot in the insurance office door each month, she had very little contact with the woman. “I don’t imagine Susan will be happy when she finds out Marsha gave out that information.”
“I don’t think Ms. Burns cares. There’s no love lost there. Anyhow, she thinks she’ll be out of a job very soon.”
Adelaide thought about that for a moment. “Surely Susan will keep the office open. She has to have some source of income.”
Daniel smiled. “Oh, I think that three-million-dollar life insurance policy will do her just fine. If she’s not convicted of her husband’s murder, that is.”
Adelaide’s mouth fell open.
“Another tidbit of info from Ms. Burns,” Daniel said. “Also we’re hoping we can get something incriminating off their computers. Unless the hard drives have been erased. Then it could be tougher.”
“There are computer experts who can retrieve erased files, Daniel.”
“Oh, we have one of those experts standing by.”
Adelaide wasn’t sure who he was talking about. “You could as
k for the FBI’s help in that regard.”
Daniel said, “Who needs the FBI when we’ve got Alex Shane? He will be the one reviewing those computers when we get our hands on them.”
Adelaide felt her stomach drop. She recalled how Daniel had gone to bat for the teenager when he’d been caught hacking into the library’s mainframe, where he erased all of the overdue book fines. “He can’t do that. He’s on probation.”
“He’s working on the side of truth, justice and the American way, now. It’s part of the deal.” Daniel took another muffin. “What else did Susan Hatfield have to say?”
Adelaide knew she’d get no more out of Daniel about Alex Shane or his role in police matters. The subject was closed. “Susan told me the affair with Douglas began while he was counseling her because of marital problems.”
Daniel seemed very interested in this. “So, the Hatfields were having problems before Underwood got into the mix?”
Adelaide nodded. “She said he was jealous of her, always accusing her of flirting with other men. She wanted them both to go for counseling but he refused, so she went alone.”
Daniel glanced at his watch again.
“Do you have somewhere else to be, Daniel?” Adelaide stood up to go. She wanted to get home so she could put her feet up. A relaxing evening sounded very good right now.
Daniel looked a little sheepish. “Brenda’s cooking a special dinner tonight. She even bought some expensive wine. She says I need some TLC after what has happened.”
Adelaide suspected part of that TLC would be Brenda staying the night again. Well, they were obviously good for each other, so she was happy for her son.
As Adelaide left the police station she waved to Mary Ellen, who was still sitting at one of the desks meticulously writing out her statement.
* * * *
Reverend Douglas Underwood felt his stomach clench as he pulled up in front of the parsonage. After the awful interview with the police, he’d gone to the one place in town where he could not only lose himself in the crowd of sightseers, but feel just a modicum of peace—the falls.
The exquisite display of lights illuminating the cascading water nearly took his breath away, especially with the snow falling all around. Further down a walking path was an elaborate nativity scene with life-size figures. In a small clearing surrounded by snow-covered fir trees sat a quaint looking cottage the size of a child’s playhouse. It was adorned inside and out with multi-colored lights as well as other decorations. Through the front window you could see a lighted Christmas tree. Further into the room a fake fireplace bathed the entire scene in a yellow glow, giving the impression of warmth. Figures representing a father, mother and two children were sitting on a chintz covered sofa. The father held a book open, as though reading a story. On the hearth, a small dog lay snoozing.
He’d walked through the dozens of illuminated displays, listening to the visitors’ excited exclamations as they came upon one surprise after another. A live petting zoo was at the end of one path. He’d stood for a while watching as gleeful children interact with the various animals. Horse-drawn sleighs provided scenic rides over snow-covered trails. The air was chilly and damp with the aroma of pine and roasting chestnuts adding to the ambience. All in all, he’d found the experience as relaxing as anything could be at this time in his life.
Douglas recognized the BMW parked in his driveway. It belonged to Fran’s brother, Alex. Shutting off the engine of his Nissan, he got out and bounded up the porch steps. The minute he stepped inside he knew why Alex was here.
Boxes were stacked everywhere. The door between the garage and house stood open. Following the sound of voices, he marched around the cardboard cartons into the garage. The single bulb hanging from the ceiling did little to dispel the gloom, but he could see clearly enough. “What’s going on, Fran?” He looked at his wife, who was standing in the far corner, closing a box lid.
Alex stepped into view from the shadows to his left. “What does it look like? She’s packing to leave.” He squeezed past Douglas and went into the living room.
Douglas spun around. “Was this your idea?” He glared at his brother-in-law. They’d never gotten along that well. Alex was an attorney who specialized in acquisitions and mergers. He’d made partner two years earlier in the large law firm where he’d been employed since he passed the bar.
“Not at all. Fran has her own mind. I’m just here to help my sister out,” Alex said smoothly. He hefted a box, moving it closer to the front door.
Fran gave Douglas a scornful look as she followed her brother back into the living room. “I didn’t need anyone to tell me it was time to leave you, Doug.”
He reached out but she evaded his touch. “We need to talk…privately.” He re-entered the living room and closed the door.
“I don’t think there is anything else to talk about.”
Douglas felt anger flush his cheeks. “You went to the police, Fran. Why?”
“To tell the truth.” She met his gaze. “You don’t have anything against the truth, do you, Doug?”
Douglas glanced at Alex. He wished the guy would leave them alone to talk. He had to make Fran understand what a bad position she’d put him in.”
As though reading his thoughts, Alex said, “I know her recanting that story you forced her to tell the police puts you in a terrible position, but the truth was bound to come out sooner or later. Honestly, Doug, another affair? Not even a year after you land here? Come on!”
Fran gave Doug a frosty look. “You need to stay somewhere else tonight. I’ll be out of here by tomorrow afternoon, then you can come back. Alex will be sleeping here tonight.”
Douglas’s head was reeling. Stalking over to Fran he took her by the arm, nearly dragging her through the dining room into the kitchen. “Don’t follow us, Alex, or I swear I’ll do something drastic!”
When they were alone, he said, “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just leave me like this. My career is on the line. I need for you to stand by me.”
Fran’s smile was more like a sneer. “I can almost hear Tammy Wynette singing in the background, Doug. But no dice. Now let go of me.” She glanced down at her arm, which he still held in a vise-like grip.
His mouth suddenly felt dry as cotton. He released his hold on her. “You want them to think I killed Jerry Hatfield.”
Fran sighed. “Didn’t you?”
“No!”
“So, where were you when he died—with your latest conquest?”
Douglas couldn’t believe his ears. Fran might have known of his numerous affairs, but she’d never let on, until recently. Maybe she sensed it was different with Susan. Maybe she realized he had really fallen in love. “Don’t desert me now, Fran. I need you.”
“But I don’t need you any longer, Doug. Now please go pack your things,” she said softly before walking away.
Chapter Eighteen
When Daniel entered his condo at a little after seven o’clock, the combined aromas of tomatoes, garlic and basil made his mouth water. The blueberry muffins he’d eaten at the station hadn’t stayed with him very long. He was really hungry.
Soft music flowed from the stereo in the corner of the living room. He hung his jacket in the closet by the front door, then headed toward the dining area. The table was set for two with his good china, crystal and silverware. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen those items—a housewarming gift from his mother when he’d moved in years ago. A vase filled with fresh flowers sat in the center of the round mahogany table between two silver candlesticks that held slender white tapers. He continued on into the kitchen. The delicious smell was coming from a covered pan simmering on the ceramic cook top. A larger pot containing water sat on another burner. Lifting the lid on the smaller pot, he inhaled deeply.
“It’s marinara sauce,” Brenda said from the kitchen doorway.
Turning around, he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of her. Brenda never wore a lot of makeup. Usually her should
er length golden hair was tied back at the nape of her neck. Tonight, however, she’d applied some mascara as well as eyeliner, accentuating those wonderful indigo eyes. Her hair was slightly curled, cascading down around her face like spun gold. She was wearing a pink sweater with matching slacks. She looked soft, feminine, and very desirable.
She came to him, slipping into his embrace. Her perfume was light, slightly floral. Pulling away, she went to the stove. “I have a bottle of Bordeaux chilling. The pasta will be ready in about twenty minutes. I made a salad. There’s also some steamed asparagus.”
He smiled, beginning to relax. “Let’s have some wine while the pasta cooks,” he suggested.
She turned up the heat under the big pot. On the counter was an electric steamer, where he assumed the asparagus was cooking.
He retrieved the bottle of wine from an ice bucket on the counter, uncorking it while she got two glasses from the cupboard above the sink. He allowed her to precede him into the living room.
The furniture was well placed, using the available floor space to best advantage. She took a seat on the leather sectional, patting the space beside her. He sat down and placed the wine bottle on the coffee table. She set the glasses beside the bottle, signaling for him to pour. “Not too much for me. I want to have more with the pasta,” she told him.
He poured her a glass and handed it to her. After he’d poured his own, he sat back with a sigh.
“You look beat, Daniel. Are things really going that badly?”
He sipped at his wine. Leaning his head against the back of the sofa, he closed his eyes, cradling his wine glass in both hands near his lap. “You need to know, if things go as expected tomorrow morning, we’ll be serving several search warrants, including one at the church that will include the pastor’s study. We’ll be taking his computer plus anything else we think might be of use in helping us solve Jerry Hatfield’s murder.”