by Raven Snow
Dave glanced at Trish. She didn’t seem to notice, but his hands were clenched in his lap, his jaw set tensely like he was annoyed. “Look,” he said, turning back to Rowen. “I know you want to ask me about her death. Just get on with it.”
Wanting to get it over with was understandable. Rowen was trying to ease him into the topic, but that clearly wasn’t what he wanted. “When was the last time you saw your wife?” she asked, getting to the heart of the matter.
Dave took a long and deep breath as if steeling himself for the answer he was about to provide. “It was about thirty minutes before she fell. It might have been closer to forty. I’m not really sure. I was talking to some old friends, and I figured she was doing the same. After a while, I went looking for her. I couldn’t find her, of course. Not until…”
Not until she had fallen from the ceiling. Rowen nodded. “Who was it you were talking to?”
“Why? Trying to establish an alibi?”
Rowen was taken aback by the bluntness and intensity of that question. She floundered with her response for a moment. “No…no, that’s not… I’m just trying to figure out who I should be talking to, who the police might be talking to. I mean, I figure you and your wife traveled in the same social circles. With something like this, the murderer is usually someone you know. All this happening at a school reunion makes it almost a certainty that Teaghan knew her killer, I would think. Is there anyone you suspect?”
“Everyone liked Teaghan,” said Trish.
Rowen knew that wasn’t true but didn’t say as much. She waited for Dave to answer.
"I don’t…” Dave sat up a little straighter, suddenly resolute. “Can you give us a moment, Trish?”
Trish’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?” she asked, as if he might have mistakenly asked that question. “If you would rather not be alone with a Greensmith right now, I understand. I don’t mind sitting here with you.” It was like she couldn’t fathom her presence being unwelcome.
“It’s fine,” said Dave. “Just, please, step outside for a few minutes or something. I want to talk to Rowen alone.”
Trish still looked uncertain, but she did as asked. She slipped her heels back on and shouldered her purse. She shot Rowen a sort of warning look as she headed for the back door.
Dave waited until he heard the door shut to start talking again. “I love my wife,” he said. “I still love her.”
Rowen nodded. She had never doubted that really. She wasn’t sure why Trish had needed to leave the room so that he could impart that bit of information to her. “I believe you.”
“I just wanted to get that out of the way before I…” He trailed off like he was reconsidering what he had to say next. “I’d rather keep this just between us. I don’t want this published or anything. I just… I feel like I need to tell you. Does that make any sense? I mean, you asked if I suspected anyone, and I can’t really tell you who without telling you the why. I already mentioned it to the police. I’m only mentioning it to you because I know you do a lot of investigating on your own. I want to make sure my wife’s killer is brought to justice. I want to make sure this case gets all the attention it deserves.”
“Of course.” Rowen leaned in a little. “This will stay between us.” She didn’t make a move to turn the recorder off. He didn’t mention it, she wasn’t going to.
Either Dave had forgotten about the recorder or he didn’t care. He took a deep breath and got on with what he had to say. “I think my wife was having an affair.”
That took Rowen by surprise. It wasn’t that Teaghan didn’t seem like the type to have an affair. If the reunion had been anything to go by, she had still been pretty and popular. There were likely plenty of guys in Lainswich that would be willing to sleep with a woman like that on the sly. No, what surprised Rowen the most was how Dave had just come out with something like that. It wasn’t something you heard often, not right after a funeral. It was usually difficult to disparage a dead loved one like that. Dave didn’t look miserable saying as much out loud. His eyes were wet again.
“Why do you think she was having an affair?” asked Rowen, pulling out a pad and a piece of paper from her purse. A recording was fine and all, but this was the sort of thing she wanted notes on as well.
“A lot of late nights,” said Dave, regaining his composure somewhat. He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand and continued. “She didn’t have a regular job or anything. So there wasn’t much reason for her to be out late. She made excuses. She’d say she was with friends or helping to organize something at the country club. A few times I’d call her friends or the club right after and they’d say she wasn’t there, she’d never been there.” He shook his head. “I hate to even bring it up now that she’s dead, but I can’t shake the feeling that maybe the guy she was having an affair with killed her.”
“Do you know who it was?”
Dave nodded before throwing a nervous look over his shoulder. “I have a good idea, yeah. That’s why I asked Trish over there to leave. I think my wife was having an affair with her husband.”
This was taking a lot more twists and turns than Rowen would have expected. She felt like she should have seen it coming, though. This was a group of people still partly rooted in their high school years. It stood to reason that they would be a bastion of drama. “Does Trish know?”
“I don’t think so. I certainly don’t want to bring it up with her,” Dave added that last part quickly, like he was afraid she might immediately go question Trish next.
“Why do you think it was him she was having an affair with?”
“He’s a personal trainer.” Dave rolled his eyes right after the words left his mouth. “I know how cliché that sounds. And, yeah, he’d make house calls. We have a pretty big gym in the basement. A couple of months ago, she started going to the gym with him or conveniently meeting up with him when she was out. It was like she was suddenly afraid that I was going to catch on if they kept their affair contained to the house.”
“Was there evidence around the house? Did you install cameras or anything?”
“I put one of those little nanny cams downstairs.” Dave waved a hand like that didn’t matter. “He was really hands on with her while he was correcting her form. It didn’t prove much. They moved off camera. I guess, maybe, Teaghan knew I was getting suspicious after that. Maybe she saw where I had bought the camera on our debit card or something. Maybe she found the camera itself. I have no idea, honestly. All I know is that she started spending less and less time at home.”
“Did Trish notice anything? Does she know about this?” Rowen was guessing that she didn’t based on the fact that Dave had asked her to leave before he would even broach the subject of the affair.
“I don’t think so. I’d rather you didn’t ask her about it. At the very least, don’t ask her about it today. Ideally, I really don’t want to drag Teaghan’s name through the mud if I don’t have to. I mean, she’s dead now. What good would that do? It would just tarnish everyone’s memory of her and… I just… I don’t want that.”
“That’s understandable,” Rowen paused before continuing with that line of questioning. She sat there and tried to take Dave in, really trying to get a feel for what he was going through. There was definitely heaps of negativity there. The poor man was miserable. His aura was heavy, gloomy. He was mourning. That much was clear. It didn’t feel like she was being lied to. “I take it you never got a chance to confront Teaghan about the affair.”
“I never did outright, no. Like I said, I’m not sure if she suspected I knew.” Dave leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and staring at the floor again. “I loved her so much. I could have forgiven her. I would have forgiven her. I wish I had gotten the chance. We had a good thing going. Everyone I knew was jealous of the relationship we had. We were great together, always had been. Everyone loves high school sweethearts, you know? People love those kinds of success stories.”
Rowen wasn’t sure you could righ
tly call what they had a “success story” if it was based on a relationship that was a lie. Teaghan didn’t strike her as the sort to settle down with just one guy anyway. If anything, she reminded Rowen a bit of the way Margo was now. She wasn’t going to argue with Dave, though. What was the point? “And why do you think Trish’s husband, what’s his name?”
“Richie. Richie Masters.”
Rowen recognized that name. He had gone to high school with them as well. He was yet another student there that she hadn’t been able to stand at the time. She didn’t think he was on the football team, but he had definitely been involved in one sport or another, wrestling maybe. “Why do you think Richie would have killed Teaghan?”
“I don’t know,” said Dave, even though his tone suggested that he did. He had clearly given this a great deal of thought. “I know Richie was at the reunion too. I know he had been drinking. Maybe he and Teaghan got into an argument. Maybe she was trying to call it off with him for good. Maybe she had finally, you know, seen the error of her ways.”
“Did you see them arguing or anything?”
“Not personally, but Trish said she couldn’t find Richie for a lot of the night, and—” Dave gave Rowen a guarded look.
“And?” Rowen prompted.
“And Tilda said that she heard them arguing. She said that it was getting pretty heated. She said they stepped out into a hallway together for some privacy.”
Tilda. She was another person worth questioning. Rowen jotted down the name like she needed reminding. Tilda had already been on her short list of people to question. “Do you think she would be okay talking to me?”
“Probably.” Dave didn’t have to think too much about that. “I mean, I’m sure she would if I asked her about it. She already talked to the cops, though… and, like I said, I really don’t want this stuff ending up in a paper or anything.”
“I’m not going to put anything in the paper that you’re not comfortable with,” Rowen assured Dave with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
Dave smiled back, though it was strained. “I loved my wife,” he said, stressing that fact yet again.
Rowen nodded. “I know,” she assured him. If she took anything from this chat with Dave, it was that.
Chapter Seven
Rowen swung back by the Lainswich Inquirer after her interview with Dave concluded. The line out the door was no longer there, at least. Not that the place wasn’t still alive with activity. Rowen was given pause when she stepped through the front doors and found the place crammed with people. She had never seen it so packed before.
Willow and Peony were both at their respective desks, talking to groups of people at a time. The door to Rose’s office was cracked open, and Rowen could see that there were several people in there as well. That left several people waiting in the entryway.
The Lainswich Inquirer building had a couple of sofas. They were mostly just for show. Sometimes Rowen or one of her cousins might use one for an impromptu nap. Looking at them now, Rowen wondered if she had ever seen them being used in what had perhaps been their intended capacity.
After a moment’s hesitation, Rowen overheard Jasper and Margo. They were here as well, it seemed—and keeping out of sight. No surprise there. Rowen headed toward the sound of their voices. She went down the hallway to the little kitchenette area where the coffee pot, fridge, and microwave were. Margo had a look of abject disgust on her face. She was staring up at the ceiling with a frown, her arms crossed in front of her.
Jasper was looking down at a book between them. “What?” he asked, a smile on his face. “I don’t see the problem here. You were adorable.”
Rowen realized all at once what they must be looking at. “Margo have you been looking through our old yearbooks?” Rowen asked, feeling a smile creep onto her face. She moved around Margo and Jasper to take a look for herself.
“We’re supposed to be looking for pictures of Teaghan.” Margo’s words seemed to be intended for Jasper even when his gaze turned to Rowen.
“And you are,” said Jasper. “You just happen to be in some of the same pictures.”
Rowen peered over Jasper’s shoulder. Sure enough, there was Margo in one of the class photos. She stood a few people down from Teaghan. She was a chubby teenager with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She hadn’t been huge into fashion back then. Her clothes looked like they had been purchased second hand or been worn by one or two family members before they made their way to her. Rowen smiled, recalling the days when Margo hadn’t been so image obsessed. “He’s right. You were cute.”
“Well, Lainswich doesn’t need to see cute.” It appeared that Margo had had enough. She snatched the yearbook from Jasper and snapped it shut. “There isn’t any reason I can’t be cropped out.” She stood and looked to Rowen. “Do you have somewhere else you need to be?”
“What?” Rowen looked away from the closed year book. “What do you mean?”
“Do you have any other interviews you need to do?”
“I was going to see if Rose needed me here first. I—”
“She doesn’t.” Margo stood, slinging her purse over one shoulder. “Come on. I’ll go with you, give you a hand.”
Jasper’s brow furrowed. He looked from Margo to Rowen then back again. “I thought we were going out for dinner in a little bit.”
“I’m not hungry anymore,” Margo announced as if she had just decided that. She likely had. If Rowen had to guess, she would say seeing that past version of herself had killed her appetite—or, at the very least, made her feel insecure or merely peevish toward Jasper.
Rowen made a point to dramatically roll her eyes. “Do whatever you want, but he’s right. You looked fine. You were cute.” She left Margo and Jasper to bicker amongst themselves and headed for Rose’s office.
Rose was looking terribly drowsy. There were a couple of girls Rowen only vaguely recognized sitting in front of her desk. They were talking a mile a minute as Rose sat there. Her eyelids were drifting shut, and she nodded her head occasionally. It was plain for Rowen to see that she was mentally checked out from all of this. The women talking hadn’t realized it yet, though. It didn’t sound to Rowen like they had a firsthand account of what had happened or anything. They were just proposing their own theories toward what had happened. If Rowen had to guess, she would say that they had tried to go to the police with their theories and been rebuffed or turned away entirely. It was no wonder. They were talking about things that had happened all the way back in high school. Sure, maybe an old grudge had led to Teaghan’s murder, but it felt a lot less likely to Rowen than the theories she had already heard. The police had their work cut out for them looking into the most likely leads before they even started in on the unlikely ones.
Rose did something of a double take when she saw Rowen enter the room. She sat up straighter in her chair, clearing her throat and blinking a few times in rapid succession as if to try and quickly wake herself up. She smiled and nodded to Rowen.
The women seated at the desk looked back, realizing they weren’t alone. They both frowned at the interruption. “Sorry,” said Rowen. “Am I interrupting?” She knew she was interrupting, she was just trying to make sure that it sounded like she cared.
“Ah.” Rose looked at her computer screen and then back to the girls seated at her desk. “I think I have enough for now. Thank you so much for coming in. I’ve got your numbers, and I’ll give you both a call if I have any further questions.”
“Are you sure?” asked one of the women, the beginnings of a scowl on her face.
“I’m sure.” Rose kept smiling. “Again, thank you so much.”
Rowen waited at the door for the women to leave. As soon as they had stepped through, she closed it. She widened her eyes at Rose emphatically, trying to imply a, “Can you believe this?” without being overheard.
“I know,” said Rose, sinking back down in her chair. She waited until Rowen was seated across from her before continuing. “I have peop
le coming out of the woodwork to tell me every little thing. It doesn’t matter how insignificant it is. Everyone thinks they have the key piece to solve this thing. Everyone wants to give their little piece of the story.”
“Well, every time I’ve glanced at the news today, it’s all that’s on. Heck, I stopped for some coffee before I got here, and it was all anyone was talking about inside.” Rowen lounged back herself, getting comfortable for a moment. “I’m not used to people being so forthcoming with me. I’m not sure I like it.”
“You’re not sure you like it? They’ve been forming a line here nearly the whole day. I only got them to leave by making appointments. We’re all booked up with interviews for the next three days.”
“Not back to back, I hope.”
Rose shook her head. “No, I might have lied to a few people. At least that means there’ll be way fewer people here for the next couple of days.” She sighed. “I hear it’s even worse at the police station.”
“Did Ben tell you that?”
Rose nodded. “Yep. And he can’t just turn people away either. Someone has to take statements from all those people. Obviously, he doesn’t have time to spare personally for every last one of them. They had to bring in some folks from Tarricville. It’s ridiculous. I think it’s a total waste of resources.”
“Why? Because it was Teaghan that was killed?”
Rose’s face colored, her cheeks growing pink. “I didn’t say that… At least, that’s not how I meant it.” She narrowed her eyes at Rowen suddenly. “You know what I meant.”
“I do,” Rowen assured her. “Sorry.” Except she wasn’t sorry. Not really. She didn’t see much point in it. The situation was what it was. “Well, I had a talk with the husband.”
Rose leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk between them. “Now that’s some information I could actually use.”