An Anniversary to Die For (27 page)

“You don’t think much of Doug, do you?”

Fanny sighed. “I know that in his field he’s considered something of a genius. And I know that he’s used his parents’ money to get where he is.”

“I thought he was employed by various agencies and governments to work on water . . . uh, water issues.”

“Yes, I don’t know very much about his field, either, but I can tell you a few things you might not know.”

Susan leaned forward. “Please.”

“Doug is famous for his knowledge—both practical and theoretical—concerning fresh, I guess I should say drinkable, water.”

“Potable,” Susan said.

“Excuse me?”

“The word is
potable
.”

“Oh, well, whatever it is, Doug is an international authority on it. But he has used his parents’ money to become that. He’s taken dozens of jobs all over the world without even considering whether or not they pay an adequate salary or provide any amenities like family housing or medical insurance. I know this because Ashley’s written me about it—
and
because I’ve done a bit of checking these things out on the Internet.”

“You’re saying that part of the reason Doug moved to the top of his field was because he didn’t have to worry about making a living.”

“Exactly!”

Susan thought for a moment. Fanny really didn’t seem to be the type of woman who would trash her cousin’s husband for no reason at all. “But Ashley wasn’t faithful to him,” she finally blurted out.

“How do you know he was faithful to her?”

“I . . .” Susan stopped and took a deep breath. “Maybe you’d better tell me what you know.”

“Not all that much. I do know that Ashley loved her life with Doug, although I very much doubt if she cared about Doug himself particularly. As I said, she was not a very nice woman. And Doug? Well, I don’t know him all that well.”

“He doesn’t talk that much about himself,” Susan said. “But I gather he’s done some things that are very important. I mean, even I know that clean water is a requirement for life.”

“In my experience many men—and women, I suppose— who are successful and contribute to society are less-than-admirable characters when it comes to their private lives.”

“Of course, that’s true. But who do you think was poisoning Doug if Ashley wasn’t?”

The answer was prompt and surprising. “Doug.”

“You think he was poisoning himself? How?”

“Well, I don’t know how exactly, but I think it would be easy for him to mix up something that would make him ill, but not kill him. After all, he is a scientist.”

“I guess. But why?”

“I’ve thought and thought about that, and the only thing I’ve come up with is that he wanted Ashley in prison—out of his life—for some reason. I’ve wondered if he’s involved with another woman or if he just got tired of putting up with her and wanted to be alone.”

“I suppose either could be true. I hate to admit this, but I’ve lived next door to Ashley and Doug for a year, and in the past few days I’ve come to realize how little I know about them.”

“But you are investigating Ashley’s murder?”

“Yes. But I don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”

“Perhaps we should go next door,” Fanny suggested reluctantly. “I need to express my condolences to Doug, and maybe you can talk to the guests and learn something that will help your investigation. That is how you work, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Susan answered, but she didn’t add that this time her investigation was going nowhere.

It looked as though everyone who had attended Ashley’s funeral service had come to the reception afterward. Fortunately the weather was fine, and the guests had spilled out into the backyard. Susan was almost immediately swept away by her friends commenting on her tribute to Ashley. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Fanny heading toward the living room.

“Susan, we’ve all been wondering where you were,” Jerry Gordon greeted her.

“Just over the fence,” she answered, pointing in the direction of her yard. “Where’s Kathleen?”

“Sitting down out back,” he answered. “She looked tired. I made her promise to rest for a while.”

“I’ll go find her,” Susan said, smiling at friends as she passed through the house into a large Victorian conservatory and then out into the yard. Kathleen was sitting on a teak bench, a glass of yellow liquid by her side.

“Lemonade? Isn’t there any wine?” Susan asked.

“There is, but for some reason Jerry brought me this.” Kathleen grimaced. “He’s been acting a little strange lately.”

“He’s just trying to take care of you. He told me you looked tired.”

“I feel tired. I was hoping a glass of wine would perk me up.”

“I’ll get us each one in a minute. But listen first. You’ll never guess who I’ve been talking to!” Susan explained what she had just heard.

Kathleen sat quietly, nodding once or twice. “You know, this Fanny had some good points. Doug certainly could have been poisoning himself. And he also had ample opportunity to poison Ashley’s food or drink at your party.”

“He has all those guns,” Susan mused. “If he wanted to kill someone, wouldn’t he just shoot them?”

“No, too obvious,” Kathleen said. “He’s too smart to do that.”

“Probably. And you know if he had been poisoning himself, it would explain one thing.”

“What?”

“Why he was such a supportive husband during the trial. He was the only person who really did know that Ashley was innocent.”

“That’s true.” Kathleen looked around the yard. “Do you know who does this lawn? There’s not a weed in sight.”

“That’s funny,” Susan said. “Just the other day Doug was asking me what lawn service I used. . . . Kathleen, that’s it! Weeds! I saw Doug weeding the day after Ashley was killed. I didn’t think anything about it at the time. I mean, who knows what a person will do when they’re in shock. But what if it wasn’t shock? What if Doug was pulling up poisonous plants to get rid of the evidence? What if he used those poisonous plants to kill Ashley!”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Kathleen said. “But wasn’t Doug being poisoned with insecticides, and wasn’t insecticide what had been used years ago back in Oxford Landing?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“But that doesn’t mean something else wasn’t used to kill Ashley last weekend,” Kathleen continued.

“That’s what I was going to say! We must get hold of the autopsy results. Then, once we know the type of poison, we can find out where to get it—and if it’s something that might be or might have been growing in this yard,” Susan ended enthusiastically. “And that would help clear Signe, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” Kathleen paused. “I never even considered the possibility that Doug was poisoning himself. I did consider the possibility that he killed Ashley, though—and I’d bet that thought has at least crossed the mind of every single person here.”

“That’s true.”

“So tell me, if your theory is that Doug poisoned himself so that Ashley would be blamed and sent to prison, why, when that didn’t happen, would he kill her? Do you think he just became fed up with her, and once she was acquitted, he decided he couldn’t live with her one second more and he poisoned her?”

“Ah . . . I suppose that’s a possibility. Unlikely, but a possibility. But there is another possibility that would fit in with what we’re saying. Suppose Doug did poison himself—with whatever poison—and suppose Ashley was accidentally poisoned with . . . well, with whatever Doug was using before she was arrested.”

Kathleen pursed her lips and thought about Susan’s idea. “To tell the truth, I don’t think that’s much of a possibility. Remember that Doug was poisoned over a long period of time. A few weeks, right? It doesn’t make sense that he would do that and then be so careless with the poison that Ashley could accidentally take a lethal dose the night of your party.”

“The trouble is, we need the results of the autopsy done on Ashley. And for that, we’re going to have to go see Chief Peter Konowitz.”

“Well, here are two of the best-looking women in Hancock, sitting all alone and without drinks.” Dan Hallard walked up, grinning, hands behind his back. “What are you two talking about?”

“Poison,” Susan answered.

“Can’t help you with that. But I do happen to have this.” He brought out a bottle of Chardonnay and four wine-glasses.

The women smiled. “Just what we were looking for,” Kathleen said.

“Yes,” Susan agreed. “Wine and a man who graduated from medical school.”

THIRTY

^“
I GATHER YOUR ACCEPTANCE OF THIS WINE MEANS YOU’RE not pregnant,” Dan said, handing a full glass to Kathleen.

“Pregnant?” Kathleen glanced down at her completely flat stomach. “Why would you think I’m pregnant?”

“I don’t. But your husband does. He’s been asking me questions about the OB/GYN man who bought my practice. Things like is he competent and whether he believes in natural childbirth. I assumed he was asking because he was worried about you.”

Kathleen looked at Susan. “Why would Jerry think I’m pregnant?”

“How would I know? Oh, Kathleen! Your knitting! He probably assumed—”

“—that I was working on that baby blanket again because we were going to have another baby. Oh, I hope he’s not disappointed when he finds out it’s Chrissy who—”

“Chrissy is going to have a baby?” Dan interrupted. “You and Jed are going to be grandparents! Well, well, well. Congratulations. I should have stolen a bottle of champagne from the bar instead of wine!”

“No one knows yet,” Susan said quickly. “You won’t tell anyone . . .”

“Susan, as one of the best gynecologists in Hancock, I’ve kept more secrets than you’ll ever know. You can count on me.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

“So I hear that Ashley’s only daughter is so broken up by her mother’s murder that she didn’t make it to the funeral.”

“That’s the story you heard?” Susan asked.

“Is that what everyone here believes?” Kathleen said, her eyes running over the large crowd.

“Don’t know what they believe. I, myself, think it’s mighty odd for a daughter not to come to her mother’s funeral. Of course, it was a mighty odd funeral.”

Kathleen smiled. “That’s true. It’s the first time I’ve been to a funeral where the minister couldn’t decide what to call the deceased.”

“You did a nice job, though, Susan. Anyone listening would have thought you were close friends with Ashley.”

Susan frowned. “You know, I’ve just learned that more than a few people in town think that very thing.”

“Why?” Kathleen asked, sipping her wine.

“Apparently that’s what Ashley had been telling people.”

“How weird!” Kathleen said.

“Not so weird. I know Martha thinks I’m nuts, but I got the impression that having you as a next-door neighbor was a real selling point for the house,” Dan said.

“Why?”

“Well, there was a lot of publicity about how you solved the murder of that woman killed out at the discount mall— I don’t remember her name. I do remember there was a front-page article about it in the
Hancock Herald
the weekend we had the open house. And you know Martha—she didn’t become the biggest realtor in the area without learning to use every single advantage she could find to sell a home. That issue of the
Herald
was on more than one coffee table—just sort of casually flung there.”

“You mean it really is true that Ashley and Doug might have bought your house just to be our next-door neighbors?” Susan asked, wondering what this could mean.

“Well, not just to be your neighbors. I like to think that our home had something to do with it,” Dan suggested, smiling.

“Of course, but . . . but why?”

“Maybe it made someone—either Ashley or Doug—feel safer to have you living nearby. You know, if there’s a murder in the area, you’re bound to investigate,” Kathleen said.

“And you do find the murderer,” Dan Hallard added.

Susan frowned. “Yes, usually,” she said.

“On the other hand, everything I’ve heard about Ashley Marks indicates that she sure was one status-conscious individual. Maybe she just wanted to shmooze with one of Hancock’s local celebrities.”

“That is possible. You just told us that she had been bragging about being good friends with you,” Kathleen reminded her.

“I know, but it still doesn’t make sense. There are lots of truly famous people living in Hancock. If Ashley had been interested in status conferral, she could have bought a house near one of our local celebrities, not next to me. Or she could have run around town lying about being friends with them instead of with me.”

“That’s probably true,” Dan Hallard agreed cheerfully. “She could have snuggled up with that morning talk show host. I hear he’s not too choosy about who he hangs out with. Oh, there’s Doug. I’d better go offer my condolences. See you later, ladies.”

“Bye, Dan. Thanks for the wine.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Susan muttered, putting her almost-f glass down on the bench by her side.

“Doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?” Kathleen asked.

“No, it sure doesn’t. I wish I knew more about that first poisoning case.”

“Didn’t you say that woman you went to school with was investigating that?”

“Jinx Jensen? Yes. She probably still is.”

“Not unless she’s looking through church records. She was at the funeral with a very good-looking gentleman.”

“Is she here? Did she come back to the house?” Susan asked quickly.

“I may have seen her companion when Jerry and I came in. But that was a while ago.”

Susan stood up. “Let’s try to find them. It could be important. I’ll go into the house, and you look around out here. And if you find Jinx or Sam Redman—that’s the man she’s probably with—um, bring them back here. This is as good a place to talk as any.”

“Fine, but . . .” Kathleen looked down at her watch. “Let’s meet here in ten minutes even if we don’t find them. Otherwise we could end up wandering around until we’re the last people here.”

“Good idea,” Susan said, starting back toward the house. The crowd had thinned out, and she ran into Sam almost immediately, his height making him easy to find.