Fred Limberg - First Murder

They revisited the conversation of the early morning hours outside the house. Deanna had, in his words, been a saint. She volunteered for the hospital and for the food bank. She had a strong loving relationship with both children. She had a group of friends, lifelong friends. They laughed and teased and supported each other through good times and bad.

“Who would want to kill Deanna?” Scott asked. “Why?”

Ray suggested they take a short break. He needed to think. He needed some fresh, crisp air.

He needed a motive.

It was time to start asking some hard questions. Carol joined him on the small balcony and lit a cigarette. Ray caught a whiff of the smoke and even after fifteen years had the urge to ask for one.

“You think he can handle what’s next?” Carol said, blowing a huge plume of smoke and frost fog into the breeze. She had been on the job for almost twenty years. Her jacket chronicled her years on patrol, a long stint in sex crimes, and now almost five years in the CAP Homicide Unit. She had some commendations in there along with a pair of reprimands. She was tough. Ray was glad she was along for this interview and knew what she meant. Some hard questions were coming.

Sometimes Ray felt like they were piling on, and this one was just getting started.

“Was your wife having an affair, Mr. Fredrickson?” Scott pursed his lips, gazed off to a bare spot on the wall for a long minute.

“No.” It came out as a simple statement of fact.

“Are you ?” Scott’s head swiveled toward Ray. Even reddened his eyes were brilliant blue.

“No.” There was no evasion to the question there.

Carol took a turn. “Were you and your wife having any financial difficulties?”

Fredrickson turned to her. “No. We’re not rich, detective, but there are not any financial issues. Dee has…had access to all of the accounts. All of the accounts are in both names. No.”

“Could someone have been blackmailing her and you wouldn’t have necessarily known?”

“Blackmail?”

“Extortion of some kind. Blackmail.”

“For what?” Scott looked completely lost.

“An affair? Compromising photos? Drug use? Maybe you’ve done something? You’re in investments, right? You bent some rules and she was covering for you?” Both detectives noticed that this was making Fredrickson uncomfortable. There was a change in his posture. He sat a little straighter. His eyes narrowed. Was it anger? Guilt?

“My wife and I shared an extremely satisfying sex life. We are…were more in love now than when we married. There was no affair. I’d have known. As for my business, if you’ll sign a confidentiality agreement I’ll open my books for you.”

“We don’t need to sign anything, Mr. Fredrickson. This is a murder investigation. We can get subpoenas, warrants, anything we need if we feel the investigation takes us there.” Carol was pissed and it showed. Ray caught her eye and gave a slight shake of his head, waving her off.

Scott continued, unfazed. “It will be easier, faster, and more complete. That’s the only reason I mention it. I have a responsibility to my clients. It’s privileged information, Detective. I have nothing to hide, but I have responsibilities.”

“We appreciate that, Mr. Fredrickson.” Ray said

“As for our personal records, credit cards and debit card statements, I’ll hand those over anytime. There’s nothing there that will point to any blackmail payments. Let’s move on, shall we?” Ray blinked. Here was who would usually be the prime suspect in effect taunting him to take his next punch.

“Tell me about your daughter.”

“Helene. Thoreson’s her last name now. Husband Brad. Baby girl, Anna. They live in Madison. Deanna’s mother lives there too. We see them as often as we can, which isn’t often enough. They’re en route now. They were camping over the weekend. Deanna’s mother finally got hold of them. She went out to the park to get them, as a matter of fact.”

“Any friction there?” Ray meant between the daughter and the grandparent.

Scott sighed. “No. We haven’t been able to talk Dee’s mother into moving to the Cities so far, and Helene and Brad live there as much to keep an eye on her as any other reason. If there’s any friction , Detective, it’s because they couldn’t be closer.”

“How about the son? I’m sorry, your son.”

“They were best friends.” Fredrickson shrugged. “It’s the only way to describe it. They had some difficulties when Scotty was in high school. Pretty normal stuff. He tested limits. She pointed out where they were. You see, what you don’t know about Deanna is that she has…had this incredible capacity to love people and help them. It was tough on her sometimes, like when one of her friends was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was Dee’s force of will that kept the woman going through the ordeal.”

“You keep mentioning her friends.”

“The ‘Go Girls’. It’s what they call the group.” Fredrickson got up and retrieved a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. “I knew you’d want to know about them so I wrote down all the names and addresses for you. Phone numbers too.”

“The ‘Go Girls’?” Ray scanned the handwritten list.

“Karen Hewes was Deanna’s best friend, has been since college. Her husband and I are friends, too. Gary and I go hunting a couple of times a year, right? So the girls decided they’d take some trips. Let’s see, the last few years they’ve gone to Vegas, Laughlin, LA, and one time to Mexico, Ixtapa. They went to Florida one time too. Rented a car and drove to Key West from Miami.”

“Gambling?”

“Nothing high stakes, although Lakisha, I’m sure you’ll talk to her soon-Lakisha entered one of those tournaments once. Texas Hold ’Em, right? And she won the damn thing.”

“She ever mention any trouble from the trips? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“I think that was the point-for them to do something out of the ordinary. To try new foods. Drink a bit.”

“Drugs?”

“Not Deanna. A couple of them I wouldn’t put it past.”

“Which ones?” Carol was so quick with the question it set Fredrickson back.

“I’m not talking opium dens here. I’m just thinking they might smoke a little pot or something.”

“Or something?”

“Maybe some coke. I really can’t say. Karen likes to have a good time and Gary’s, well, he’s um…protective. That’s what I’m trying to say. And Roxie, that’s Roxie Kennebrew, she’ll let herself get over-served now and again.”

“We’ll be talking to them.”

“I also wrote down who I could remember from the hospital and the gym, she did the gym thing a couple of times a week, and the food bank. I tried to remember as many as I could. Her address book is at the house, on the table by the phone. It might have more people in there.” Ray knew that the address book was in a storage box in the evidence locker by now, not at the house, but he didn’t mention it.

“What else can I tell you, detectives?”

“Any neighborhood issues? You get along with all your neighbors?”

“I travel a lot. You know that, right? I know Mae next door pretty well, and her husband Bud before he died. That must have been about three years ago. Other than that I’m afraid I didn’t really know any of them other than to wave.”

“Cleaning service? Did your wife have any people she used regularly, assistants, whatever?” Ray looked over toward Carol. He was pleased she had brought that up. He’d considered domestic servants, too. Fredrickson’s answer ended that line of thought.

“Not in Deanna’s house. She picked it out, decorated it, cleaned it, cherished it. We have a pool guy in the summer, and a neighbor’s kid does the lawn, but that’s it.”