The Monday after her death, by the time Kathleen’s two sisters, Candace and Lori, had arrived at the Cedar Street house, things were looking dire. Kathleen’s children were overcome with grief and shock. Not only did they no longer have their mother, but now their father was being blasted, made to look suspicious by the local news. Reporters were indicating that Michael Peterson might be facing some kind of possible charge, although they couldn’t say he’d done anything to deserve it. No doubt, the media was making things more difficult for Kathleen’s family.
Candace and Lori had driven the long ride to Durham together. The whole time, they were flabbergasted. Heading to North Carolina from Virginia, there was still a sense of disbelief about their older sister’s death. Candace and Lori wanted to hold on to the idea that it was all a mistake, that Kathleen wasn’t really gone. It was just too impossible to imagine. Kathleen was so healthy, so young. The three of them had just been on a trip to Paris together.
But as they pulled up on Cedar Street, Kathleen’s sisters were confronted with yellow crime-scene tape surrounding the perimeter of the Peterson property. Suddenly Kathleen’s death had become real. Through the family grapevine, Candace and Lori had heard that police search teams had been in the house. They heard that Michael was being targeted, but they really hadn’t believed it, until they saw it with their own eyes.
Still, it was shocking to see the yellow crime tape. Candace and Lori, two beautiful, well-bred women, had never been involved in this kind of drama. They knew nothing of police and search warrants. They knew nothing about local politics, about the depths to which local officials might hold a grudge. With husbands and children of their own, with steady lives that were basically normal, they needed some answers. Here were police surrounding Kathleen’s home. The police seemed to be holding the house hostage. Candace and Lori hoped that someone could tell them just exactly what was going on.
When Candace went to talk to some of the officers at the command post on Kent Street, she was informed that the other family members were across the street. She was directed over to the home of Maureen Berry, Michael and Kathleen’s friend and neighbor, who had offered her house as a place for the family to meet. The police wouldn’t give any other details. Candace wondered what, if anything, these officers were doing, sitting there, outside the Peterson property. But with no formal charge announced, with the police being so evasive and unfriendly, Candace didn’t have the nerve to ask.
Candace felt put off by the number of police officers who were out there on Kent Street, just yards away from her sister’s property. The police were polite, but they were not being cooperative at all. They would not allow Candace any access to the house, even though she needed to get Kathleen’s clothes to prepare for her burial. Candace was informed that no one would be permitted inside the Peterson home at that time. She was told that most of the family, including Todd, were over at the Berry residence.
When Candace went over to Maureen Berry’s with Lori, she was happy to be greeted by such a warm and caring soul. Maureen Berry made her home comfortable and inviting for the grieving family, having put out tea and coffee, and all the cakes and cookies brought by friends and neighbors. Candace and Lori were anxious to talk to Todd, who briefly explained what happened when he returned home early on Sunday morning. Todd’s story made Candace and Lori even more upset. They wanted to hear about it directly from Michael. Todd had his aunts follow him over to Kerry Sutton’s residence, where Michael and his two brothers were huddled. Lori waited downstairs while Candace and Michael spoke privately.
Michael expressed his grief and sorrow, he was still in shock, barely able to make a coherent sentence. He looked like he aged overnight. Candace asked about all the police tape and Michael explained the unfortunate circumstance he had created with the local police. He had antagonized them over the years, and now they were doing anything they could to get even.
Later that day, soon after police turned the house back over to Mr. Peterson, Michael escorted his two sisters-in-law inside his home. He watched the women go over to the stairwell, and Todd and Clayton were there, trying to hold their father together. But when Lori broke down in tears, when Candace couldn’t bear looking at Kathleen’s blood anymore, Michael became truly shaken.
Candace needed to move away from the area. The stairwell was just too grim. She told Michael she wanted to retrieve some of Kathleen’s personal belongings in the master suite. Kathleen had a special set of pearls, and Candace had been asked to find them, along with appropriate clothing for Kathleen’s burial.
As Candace calmed herself, going upstairs to collect her sister’s wallet, her jewelry, all the essentials needed for the funeral, Michael stood there, weeping. Even for the sake of his sons, Michael was unable to control his grief. With Clayton and Todd in the background, Michael sobbed as he watched Candace looking through Kathleen’s beautiful clothes. Candace decided that the brand-new gown and shoes Kathleen had purchased for the governor’s gala would be what her sister would have chosen to wear.
Candace had some questions about Michael’s plans for the funeral, but Michael was too distracted, too overwhelmed, to answer her. All Michael could think about were the children. His boys were being strong, they were holding up. But the girls would be another story. Caitlin, Margaret, and Martha were each on their way home, headed back from their respective colleges. Michael did not know how he would console them. For Caitlin, there would be no words to ease the pain. For Margaret and Martha, Kathleen was the only mother, really, they had ever known. Michael still could not believe that the love of his life was dead. It seemed surreal that Kathleen was not with him.
Candace realized Michael’s dilemma, but she still wanted to talk to him about what happened. While her sister Lori was upstairs, still walking around the vast house in a daze, Candace followed Michael back down to the kitchen area, where she questioned him about Kathleen’s death.
Michael had no answers. He had no explanation as to why Kathleen fell. All he knew was that they had been drinking. He said they were drinking heavily that night, but he and Kathleen always drank on weekends. There was nothing unusual about that.
Candace found herself trying to get Michael to say something, anything, but he was unable to function. Michael was distracted. He had enough difficulty dealing with Kathleen’s death, and then he had these added problems with the police. As she made her way back toward the stairwell where Kathleen’s accident occurred, Candace was trying to understand how Kathleen actually fell. There was such an awful lot of blood.
Candace decided to press Michael, hoping that he might have some clue as to why Kathleen would have fallen so hard.
“Do you have any idea?” she asked him. “I mean, how could this have happened?”
“I just don’t know. I was outside,” he said.
“But there’s so much blood here. How do you think she fell?”
“I have no idea. I came up the stairs to get some towels. . . .” Michael’s voice trailed off.
“But, Michael, was she on any pills or anything? How many stairs did she hit?”
“I don’t know,” he told her, “but I think . . . she fell down the whole staircase.”
Candace could see that her questions had further rattled Michael. There was no sense in talking to him about the accident. He clearly was guessing at what might have happened, and there was no real point in that. Candace felt sorry for him. She decided she should try to keep practical and levelheaded about the matter. She knew her mother would be arriving the following day, and Candace just couldn’t let her poor mother come to the house and see all that dark red stain. She started looking around the kitchen, looking around the laundry area, trying to find rags and cleaning solutions. But Candace wasn’t dressed properly. She would have to return the next morning to start cleaning.
Michael had no objections to that idea. If Candace was willing to clean up the stairwell, that was a good thing. The police apparently had finished whatever photographs
and testing they were going to do, and Michael certainly didn’t want to be reminded of his wife’s death. Having to continue to live in that house, all alone, was punishment enough.
The following day, Candace and Lori returned. Lori went upstairs to look through Kathleen’s personal items again. Caitlin had arrived in Durham, and there were a few things of her mom’s that she had asked for. They were trinkets, just things of sentimental value. Caitlin’s aunt Lori had offered to fetch them, not wanting Caitlin to enter the house.
By the time Candace actually rolled her sleeves up, on Tuesday morning, when she actually had the Windex and the bowl of water and the paper towels in her hands, she began feeling very lonely in that big, old, quiet house. With Lori, Michael, and the boys nowhere in sight, it sure was a spooky place. Without Kathleen, without her music going, the house did not have much life left in it.
Candace realized that the job of removing Kathleen’s blood wasn’t going to be so simple. There was more blood than met the eye, and Candace had to find the strength to get through it.
As she began, the blood started to bother her. As she was cleaning, Candace realized this was the last of her sister’s life. And the blood seemed to be everywhere. It seemed to be endless. Candace had scrubbed and scrubbed in one corner.
The blood wouldn’t come off the stairs.
To try to get her mind off the horror of her task, Candace decided to move over to a wall inside the staircase, where Kathleen had hung a poster of a black cat. It was a famous print called Le Chat Noir, and Candace liked the piece of artwork. When she took a closer look at it, she noticed the corner of the black cat had blood on it. Candace decided that would be an easier place to work.
Candace got the Windex out and sprayed. She was using a rag, removing the blood from the cat poster into a bowl of water. Then all of a sudden, a streak of red blood came running down from the poster, running right down Candace’s arm.
It was too much. Candace just couldn’t bear it. Kathleen’s blood had mixed in with the Windex and was running bright red again. With a shriek, Candace threw the rag and the Windex down. She broke into uncontrollable sobs. Lori was upstairs somewhere, but the house was too big for Lori to hear her. Candace wasn’t the type who would want Lori to come and see her crying, especially since she was covered with blood.
Candace decided the best way to honor Kathleen was to concentrate on her sister’s memory. She wanted to remember the good times. So Candace washed herself up and went to retrieve Lori, and the two of them headed back over to the Berry house across the street.
Just before she and Lori left, they saw Clayton and Todd using duct tape and a blanket to try to cover the stairwell area. The young men were trying to be helpful. Michael came down and had a look at the job they were doing. It seemed like his sons had the accident all covered. But after a few minutes, the blanket fell. Clayton and Todd tried again, but it was obvious that the duct tape wasn’t going to hold up. Michael was dismayed to see that his sons’ idea wasn’t working.
Candace just couldn’t spend any more time thinking about it. Caitlin, who had already arrived from New York, and her sisters needed their attention. And their mom would be arriving within hours. It would be a very long day. Candace and Lori felt they would have to put things into proper perspective. They both had hearts of gold. They were used to dealing with touchy situations. Michael had asked Candace to take care of the funeral for Kathleen. Her brother-in-law made it clear that he was in no shape to handle that, and Candace offered to take on the responsibility. Being a conscientious woman, Candace wanted to be sure that her sister had a proper burial. If Michael couldn’t do it, someone would have to pick up the slack.
Candace, however, was not from the deep South. She and her husband, Mark, lived in the DC area. Candace had only been to North Carolina on visits. She wasn’t sure about the Southern traditions, about the way people in Durham expected things to be done. She was hoping that Michael would have set up the service at the church at least, that he would have organized some kind of banquet hall, or perhaps made some provisions for the two dozen people who were Kathleen’s immediate family.
But Michael had always left the social arrangements to Kathleen. He was not used to dealing with that sort of thing. His only request was that Kathleen’s funeral service be held at the Duke University Chapel, the neo-Gothic centerpiece of the university’s West Campus. As for the wake, the burial, the flowers, the tea and cake, and even Kathleen’s stone monument, Michael didn’t have the heart to be involved.
All the grieving people in the world weren’t going to bring his wife back to him. Whatever flowers, whatever country hams or biscuits people wanted to bring, whatever dinners people wanted to arrange, those were things for the living.
To Michael, everything was Kathleen. All he had was Kathleen. With her gone, he felt dead inside. There was nothing to look forward to—no Christmas, no New Year’s Eve—and the people of Durham who were interested in the public grieving, the people who knew him and his wife because of their local reputation, and even their friends and family, were all just a blur.
Candace realized she’d have to handle things as best she could. She had her sister Lori there, who would help, and all the neighbors from Forest Hills had come forward, opening their homes, serving up meals, just filled with tears and sympathy. Candace had no way of knowing how many people would be attending Kathleen’s wake, but from the sound of it, Kathleen had so many people who loved her, so many employees and friends, there could be hundreds. It would be impossible to tell how many folks might decide to attend the wake, especially with Kathleen’s death being blasted all over the local news.
If nothing else, Candace was determined that the funeral would serve her sister’s memory. She needed to do that for her sister. She needed to remain strong. Fighting back tears in her eyes, Candace wrote her sister a loving eulogy. That was another thing she had hoped Michael, the novelist, would have undertaken. But he hadn’t. Michael was at such a loss for words, he couldn’t put his grief on paper.
Candace wasn’t sure about how she could handle all these people. Kathleen’s children were devastated, her mom was sick at heart, and if that wasn’t bad enough, Michael had become absolutely useless. He was basically hiding out in his house, refusing to face the world. Still, Candace knew that the family would manage, somehow, in the midst of such grief, to pull things together.
Unfortunately, there had been no advance planning on the part of Kathleen concerning her death. There was no cemetery plot chosen, there were no instructions about burial or cremation. And there was no last will and testament. Once the eulogy was written, Candace had to find the strength to look in the phone book and contact a funeral home. The rest of the family would be arriving, the arrangements needed to be in place. She wished Kathleen had left some instructions, something that would have reflected her own wishes, but nothing of that kind existed. Everything was falling on Candace’s shoulders.
Once Candace contacted the local funeral director, however, things became a bit easier. The people at the funeral home were gracious and full of respect for Kathleen; they were full of remorse for the family. They were such nice folks, the people in Durham. It seemed everyone was so kindhearted in North Carolina. There was all that Southern charm, all that grace of yesteryear. And as Candace became more entrenched with the funeral arrangements, she almost completely forgot about her grief.
It was still a difficult time for her, the whole funeral and wake process—especially because she had no one in the family to run things by—but Candace had put off her own grieving, really, without even having realized it. The death investigation was clouding everyone’s minds. The newspeople were snooping around. Their lives weren’t private anymore. And then, Michael and his sons were so caught up in their anger at the police. They were furious that the Durham police were trying to make news out of Kathleen’s death. In the Petersons’ minds, it was all a publicity stunt by the Durham police, who had no regard for the fami
ly’s feelings at all.
The Petersons were still outraged by the fact that the police had taken over their home. The police had spent almost two days executing their search warrants. In all those hours, in all the panic surrounding Kathleen’s death, Michael and his sons had felt such outrage. The police were checking all of their cars, cops were rummaging through everything they owned. The Cedar Street mansion had been turned upside down, yet there wasn’t anything to find.
With Michael finally free to move about the house again, Candace had made a point to go back to see him on Tuesday morning. By then, Candace and the rest of the family, including Caitlin, Margaret, and Martha, were all staying in Durham at the Washington Duke, a ritzy hotel on the Duke campus, not far from the Forest Hills home. Kathleen’s family had been given a floor of suites there, compliments of the management, to make the first few nights of their suffering just a little less difficult.
It was a godsend, actually, that Kathleen’s family was tucked away at a hotel, because over on Cedar Street, Michael was so upset, so beside himself with grief, there was really no reasoning with him. Candace had gone to his home to talk to Michael about making the final funeral arrangements. A short while after she got there, Candace noticed a couple of maintenance workers had been let into the house. They had plywood and other supplies, and Candace figured that Michael had hired the workers to paint the area. She was grateful for that. She felt a fresh coat of new paint was probably a good way to handle the horrific stairway.
But much to her surprise, the workers weren’t there to paint at all. As Candace looked on in disbelief, the men started setting up a photography shoot. They were working on backlighting. Candace couldn’t understand it. She thought it was the strangest thing in the world.
A Perfect Husband Page 4