A Perfect Husband

by Aphrodite Jones

  Back to her old self, Liz went all out, as did her friends, each preparing mouthwatering appetizers and extraordinary desserts. Liz wanted everything she did to be homemade, created from scratch, and she filled her home with candles and chose selections of classical music as she prepared all day Saturday for the special occasion. Liz felt like she was coming back to life, and because she enjoyed things that were refined, she wanted nothing but the best for her friends. As she set her tables and placed her serving platters out, Liz decided on Beethoven to start. She would serve the best French champagne and accompany it with caviar.

  But when it began snowing on that particular Saturday, Liz became a bit panicked that the party might not be pulled off. She was hoping the snow would stop. She didn’t want any cancellations. And then, to complicate matters, Liz had a bit of car trouble when she went to pick up some last-minute groceries. Suddenly Liz was worried about her own personal safety as she realized that the road conditions were really bad. She decided she needed to make arrangements to take her BMW in for service right away.

  The thought occurred to her that someone might have tampered with her car; she had no idea why it was acting strangely. Even with the party approaching, she could take no chances, and as soon as she made it home, she phoned Michael. Luckily, he was there when she called to ask if he’d follow her over to the dealership. Of course Michael agreed to help her out.

  But at the time, Michael was busy, on his way out. He suggested that he follow her over to BMW on Sunday, deciding it would be best for Liz not to worry about the car that night. To make life easier, Patricia got on the phone to say it would be no problem for Liz to catch a ride to work with her on Monday morning.

  For a few days prior to the surprise party, Elizabeth had been getting some hang-up calls that had been making her nervous. On that same wintery Saturday afternoon, just minutes after she spoke to Michael, Liz called Amybeth looking for Barbara. It temporarily had stopped snowing, but the roads were still dangerous, and Liz told Amybeth that she was hoping to catch Barbara or get a message to her, because she needed to ask Barbara to spend the night.

  “Why do you want Barbara to stay there tonight? You’ll have so many people in the house already,” Amybeth wondered.

  “I’ve been having stress headaches lately and sinus headaches,” Liz told her.

  “Well, I’ve been having those myself. It’s the allergies from the farmers’ fields. I can drop you by some tablets I take—”

  “No. No, I would really like Barbara to stay with me tonight,” Liz insisted. “I’ve been getting some hang-up calls this week, and I think someone might be watching the house.”

  “Hang-up calls? What do you mean?”

  “It’s just someone calling me a bunch of times this week. Three times a day, maybe,” Liz told her. “I don’t know what it means. But I’ve been feeling eerie around the house.”

  “Do you have any idea who it might be?”

  “Absolutely none. It’s the craziest thing. I pick up the phone and someone is there faintly breathing. But they’re not saying anything.”

  “I’ll call around to see if I can find Barbara, okay?” Amybeth said. “But if you need to, you and the girls can always come stay with us.”

  Of course Liz would never impose on people like that. She promised Amybeth that she would make sure all her doors were locked every night, and then Liz moved the conversation back to the subject of the party. As Elizabeth finished listing the various dishes friends were preparing for the surprise, Amybeth asked if there was anything else she could do, anything Liz could think of that might make her feel better.

  But Liz really had nothing in mind. She was sorry she’d worried her friend, and said she was going back to finish her chores of the day, expecting to see Amybeth and a houseful of people by early evening.

  Twenty-nine

  People didn’t remember Michael staying for very long at the party. Elizabeth didn’t seem to mind, nor did anyone else seem to notice, because there were so many people who showed up. To everyone’s glee, the surprise was pulled off. Cheryl and Tom couldn’t get over all the trouble everyone had gone to, and they were thankful to see their friend Liz had gotten herself back into the swing of things. The party was a great success. There was the right mix of people, the right hue of lighting, and people laughed and drank well into the night.

  But Liz had confided at one point that she was still feeling uncomfortable about being alone in her home. It was early on in the party that Liz had pulled Amybeth aside in the kitchen and the two had a brief chat. Liz was still very nervous that someone was hanging around the back alley. She felt certain that someone was watching her. There had been more hang-up calls on that day, and there was a question about why her car was acting up.

  Amybeth wanted to know if Liz had been dating anyone secretly. She thought, perhaps, that Liz had a thwarted love interest on her hands. Liz confessed that there was a man she had been interested in, but nothing had come of it yet. Liz wouldn’t name the man, and Amybeth didn’t feel it was the time to press the issue. With the party going on, their conversation shifted rapidly, and Amybeth didn’t discover much more.

  Worried about her friend, Amybeth wasn’t sure what to think. She couldn’t understand why her friend was acting so paranoid. Liz was giving her mixed signals, and Amybeth tried to decide if she should say anything to her husband, Bruce.

  “Liz asked Barbara again, when she was at the party, if Barbara would stay over. She said she wasn’t feeling right,” Amybeth recalled. “Liz was feeling weird, like she wasn’t feeling safe around the house.”

  But when Barbara said she wasn’t available, apparently Liz didn’t say much to try to persuade her. As Amybeth listened to their exchange, she decided not to say anything to Bruce. There was no need to worry her husband in the middle of a party, especially when it seemed like Liz might very well have been overreacting.

  Amybeth took note that Liz had spoken to Barbara in a very casual way about staying over at the house. To Amybeth’s surprise, Liz hadn’t confided any feelings of being in danger. Elizabeth merely wanted to know if Barbara might consider spending the night, just to help her out a little.

  Barbara had become more like family to Elizabeth, the two of them had a sincere relationship. They felt they could level with each other. They didn’t need to stand on ceremonies, and spending the night was something that Barbara did whenever she felt like it. Even though Barbara had her own apartment, Liz still kept Barbara’s room intact, and Barbara was always welcome to stay.

  But Barbara didn’t really have time for Elizabeth that particular evening. The nanny wasn’t really all that close to Cheryl and Tom Apple-Schumacher, and with all of their family around, people who were strangers to her, Barbara didn’t feel the need to be present for the wedding anniversary party.

  Barbara told Liz she was already committed to go elsewhere that night. People later discovered she might have met up with Michael Peterson. Whatever Barbara’s plans were, Elizabeth realized her nanny had not come over to celebrate with Cheryl and Tom. Her nanny was there, really, for Margaret and Martha’s sake.

  The girls were all dressed up in little lace dresses; it was a big occasion for them to be hosting guests in their home. Barbara had stopped by to spend a little time with them, bringing them a platter of cookies. They were precious girls, their nanny loved them, and she wanted to gush over their fancy outfits and their mom’s beautifully decorated party.

  With their frilly ankle socks and patent leather shoes, Margaret and Martha spent the evening downstairs with the adults until they were finally too tired to stay awake. For much of the night, Liz seemed joyful, happily serving and joking with her friends. When she had kissed Barbara good-bye early on, Liz said she was glad that Barbara had a chance to see how beautiful the girls looked.

  Elizabeth never knew where Barbara disappeared to. She didn’t have time to worry about it, especially after most of her guests had gone, leaving her alone with Tom a
nd Cheryl to handle the cleanup.

  The next day, Elizabeth took her girls sledding in the fresh clean snow. It was an enjoyable afternoon, followed by a visit to the Petersons’ home for dinner. After having a quick bite to eat with Michael and Patricia, it was time for Liz to get home with her girls. It was early Sunday evening, and Michael would follow Elizabeth to the BMW dealership, where she would drop off her car.

  Thirty

  Barbara O’Hara arrived at Elizabeth Ratliff’s house early on Monday morning, November 25, 1985. She had taken a taxi to get there, and she asked the driver to wait for a minute because something seemed strange. There were lights on in the hallway and the living room, which had never been Liz’s habit, and after remembering the conversation with Liz on Saturday night, the nanny was concerned about things looking out of place.

  As she rushed to the front door, she realized it wasn’t locked.

  And then, at her feet, at the foot of the stairs, there was a body lying there. In a panic, Barbara began shouting for Liz to come downstairs. She kept shouting Liz’s name, and then she ran upstairs to see where Liz was. There was blood all up and down the stairway. Barbara was horrified to see that the two girls were asleep in their beds, all alone.

  Barbara grabbed the upstairs telephone to dial the Petersons, but the phone line was dead. Running back down the stairs, with the taxi driver still waiting outside, Barbara suddenly realized that she was looking at Elizabeth, practically unrecognizable, at the bottom of the staircase. Elizabeth was lying in a pool of her own blood, and Barbara felt Elizabeth’s body, searching for a sign of life.

  Barbara noticed that Elizabeth still had her snow boots on, which struck her as unusual, since Liz never wore shoes inside her house. Running back outside to the taxi driver, Barbara signaled for help. The nanny felt sick to her stomach, like she was about to throw up, and she didn’t know what to do first. She wanted to get the girls out of there, away from all the blood before they woke up. She wanted to get medical people there, hoping and praying that Elizabeth was still alive. But with no access to a phone, she only had the taxi driver to assist her. Barbara realized she’d have to ask the kind stranger to watch over the house while she ran down the street, over to the Petersons’ place.

  Michael got up out of his bed to find Barbara frantically crying at his door. Patricia hadn’t left for work yet, and the two of them listened to Barbara’s hysterical pleas. Michael followed her over to Elizabeth’s immediately, where they both looked in horror at Elizabeth Ratliff, who was lying facedown, bleeding, at the bottom of the stairs. As Barbara sobbed, leaning against her friend’s neck, feeling the warmth in Elizabeth’s body, Michael Peterson leaned down to feel for a pulse.

  “I think she still might be alive,” Barbara told him. “See if she’s breathing.”

  “She’s dead, Barbara,” Michael said. “I believe she’s dead.”

  “No, she’s not. Her skin is still warm,” she insisted.

  “There’s no heartbeat,” Michael said.

  Rushing back up the stairs, Barbara O’Hara ran to wake up Margaret and Martha, dressed the two girls, and then wrapped them in blankets. The nanny left with the two of them in her arms, taking the girls out the back, down the back alleyway. Barbara had never used the fire escape before, but she could not risk letting the girls see their mother and all that blood. Even though they were quite young, even though they might never remember the scene, Barbara thought they could wind up being traumatized.

  When Michael Peterson ran back to his home, he found that Patricia had already dialed for emergency help. Within minutes, Barbara had arrived at the Petersons’ place with the girls, whom the taxi driver had helped her deliver. Still in a panic, Barbara left the girls with Patricia, running next door to get Bruce and Amybeth Berner. Having no time to wait for the Berners to dress, Barbara asked that they go and try to help Liz at her home.

  Barbara was shaking, but she had to contain her fright for the sake of the children. Margaret and Martha knew that something was amiss, but they had been seated in the kitchen of the Peterson home. With all her strength, Barbara tried to put on a happy face. She decided to act as rationally as possible, hoping to divert the girls by feeding them breakfast.

  Michael had already gone back to tend to Elizabeth, and now that Barbara was watching the girls, Patricia went running over to her friend’s house as well, just horrified to see what had happened to Liz. Patricia was in tears, but always allowing Michael to be in control, she listened to his advice and got out of the way. There was nothing any of them could do to save Liz. They had gotten there too late.

  As Bruce and Amybeth arrived, they were both shocked at the amount of blood at the foot of the stairs. Elizabeth was covered by a blanket, her head was barely visible. But her feet and snow boots were standing out, and Amybeth recognized the shoes. Michael Peterson was pacing, waiting for the emergency crews to get there.

  Bruce ran up the stairs to check things out, to examine all the doors and windows, looking for signs of an intruder. Amybeth, unwilling to step near Liz at first, went back to the kitchen, where she found Patricia Peterson sitting by herself, just in a complete state of shock. To Amybeth, Patricia looked like some kind of wax figure. As Amybeth joined Patricia at the kitchen table, Mrs. Peterson was sitting in a daze, having nothing at all to say.

  “When I first got there, there was no real interaction. Just nothing. Patty was like a vegetable, sitting there in front of the window,” Amybeth recalled. “She was sitting at the kitchen table, not moving. Then she put her hands on her head, shaking her head. And then I remember her talking about coffee. Patty wanted to make coffee.”

  Amybeth realized that Patricia Peterson was not going to be of any help. In fact, Michael’s wife seemed to be in la-la land for most of the day, unable to say or do much. When Cheryl and Tom Appel-Schumacher got there, just minutes after Bruce and Amybeth arrived, they, too, were struck by the amount of blood. With all the commotion, neighbors were waking up, American neighbors who wanted to see what was the matter, but Cheryl and Tom kept anyone else from entering the house. It was a dramatic scene, quite horrifying, and there was no need for others to be involved.

  The authorities had not yet arrived, but Michael mumbled something to Tom and Cheryl about what he thought might have happened. There was the possibility that Elizabeth might have had some kind of stroke or something, that she’d fallen down the stairs and had bled all night long.

  “The whole scene was bizarre,” Amybeth confided. “Patty was basically in the kitchen and didn’t move out of the kitchen. She’s talking about coffee. She keeps making more coffee. And Michael is basically standing right at the front door, by the stairs, waiting for whoever it was that was supposed to come. But he’s not talking that much. He’s not saying anything much, which is not like him.”

  While Bruce Berner was up at the top of the landing, he looked around to see if anyone had been hiding behind some of the boxes that Liz had stacked. But there was no indication of any intruder. From all the blood along the stairway, Bruce had trouble believing that Elizabeth had died from a fall. But Michael Peterson had surmised that a fall had occurred, he’d told Bruce about Elizabeth’s rare blood disorder. Elizabeth apparently had some kind of rare disease, similar to hemophilia.

  Michael seemed to know a lot about Elizabeth’s medical history, and said he’d been concerned about her because she was complaining of headaches. Michael thought Elizabeth could have fallen, perhaps from a dizzy spell.

  Bruce would later call his squadron to ask to be excused from flying that day, but before he left the scene, the air force pilot had some questions of his own he tried to answer. Bruce hadn’t seen very many dead people, and he had no experience with people falling, but there was something about the stairway that didn’t seem right.

  “The main thing I remember is, I did walk up the stairs, and there was a splattering of blood,” Bruce confided. “It was right above my left shoulder, toward the top of the staircase.
And I remember thinking, someone would have a really hard time banging their head against that part of the wall and making that splatter there.”

  As Bruce mused at the top of the stairs, looking at the tiny spots of blood, he tried to put himself into Elizabeth’s position. He wondered whether small splatters would show up so high on the wall if he himself got dizzy and landed against the stairwell. Bruce thought it might be possible, but not likely. Bruce examined the texture of the wall, and once he realized that it had a rough surface, he wondered why there were no scrape marks on the stairwell. Wouldn’t someone have scraped themselves as they fell?

  There should have been scrapes or smears of blood.

  But there weren’t any smears. Only tiny droplets.

  Amybeth finally summoned the courage to join Bruce up on the top of the stairs. Devastated by the amount of blood, she looked in disbelief at the unusual blood spatter. The blood reached way above Amybeth’s head, it was all the way up toward the top of the staircase, and suddenly she had a chilling thought.

  “Bruce, this is a crime scene,” she whispered.

  And her husband very much agreed. But just then, the German police had arrived downstairs and the Berners could hear them speaking to Michael.

  Peterson was telling them they were in the home of an American military family, asserting that the military police were on their way.

  “Americanish,” Peterson kept saying to the German police.

  Bruce and Amybeth could hear the German police asking questions. Before they went downstairs, they took a last quick look around Liz’s bedroom to see if anything was out of place. They were hoping to see signs of a struggle, but they found everything in perfect order.

  The only thing that seemed unusual was something that Amybeth had noticed when she first arrived. She noticed it the minute she sat down with Patricia at Liz’s kitchen table. Amybeth found it odd that Elizabeth’s table was blank, bare of the girls’ porcelain cereal bowls and drinking cups. She didn’t mention anything about it to Patricia at the time, but Amybeth knew it was not like Liz to forget about the breakfast table for her girls.