Valerie Wolzien - Death In Duplicate

“How was she killed?”

“She was stabbed…” Susan remembered the blood-spattered kitchen. “Many times,” she added.

Shannon shifted her attention to the wrought iron lamp suspended over the table, but she didn’t ask any more questions.

“The police will probably be over here sometime this evening,” Susan continued. “They may want to ask you if you heard anything or saw anyone… since you were the only person home here when the murder happened.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t the only person here when the murder occurred. Chrissy was also home. You told your friend on the phone that Chrissy found the body. So the murder must have happened earlier. While she and I were here taking care of the babies.”

“I… You’re right!” Susan wondered if Shannon heard the relief in her voice. “Well, then Brett probably has already realized that and he might not want to bother you.”

“Who’s Brett?”

“Brett Fortesque. Hancock’s chief of police. We’re old friends.”

“The chief of police is one of your friends?”

“Yes. I’ve helped him solve a murder or two in the past,” Susan added modestly.

“This doesn’t seem to be the type of place where people would be murdered.”

“You might think that, but-”

“That sounds like Ethan,” Shannon interrupted as the baby monitor emitted a loud wail.

Susan hurried over to turn down the volume. “You can tell them apart? Just by hearing them?”

“Ethan’s voice is a bit higher than Rosie’s. I’d better go get him. He’s going to wake up his sister.”

Shannon left the garbage bags on the floor and hurried back to her charges as Brett Fortesque walked in the back door.

“Sounds like my house,” he said, a smile on his handsome face. Fatherhood had brought nothing but joy to his life. Of course, he was here and, if his infant daughter was unhappy, his wife was coping with her.

“Where’s Chrissy?” Susan asked, reaching into a cupboard for a pair of mugs.

“Chrissy left a few minutes ago. Isn’t she here?”

“She probably came in the front door. I was talking to Shannon and didn’t hear her.” She waved the mugs in the air. “Coffee? Or maybe a glass of wine?” It was well past five PM she realized.

“The wine sounds great, but coffee will have to do. It’s going to be a long night.”

“Have you told Donald about his wife’s death?”

“No. We called him at his office, but his secretary-or someone-said he was out with a client and not expected back at work today.”

Susan nodded. “Apparently real estate is like that. Nadine was always complaining that she couldn’t reach him.”

“He doesn’t have a cell phone?”

“That’s what I asked. But she said Donald had been interrupted once too often when he had just about made a sale. So now he just turns it off whenever he’s with clients.”

Brett nodded.

“Do you think it’s significant? Do you think Donald killed his wife?”

“I have no idea. There is no sign that the house had been burgled-at least nothing I could see in my brief look around. But she might have surprised someone breaking in and been killed.”

“But you just said nothing was taken.”

“I said it didn’t look as though anything had been taken. It’s too early to tell. Donald will know if anything is missing.”

Susan wasn’t so sure about that. In her experience, husbands didn’t necessarily know where things went around the house and quite possibly weren’t all that likely to discover anything missing. A thief could take the silver and a fortune in jewels, but as long as the television, DVD player, TiVo, CD player, and his computer were left behind, Jed certainly might not notice. But Susan was a loyal wife and didn’t disagree.

“I-What’s that?” Brett interrupted himself as loud shrieks drowned out anything else he might have been about to say.

“Twins.” Susan once again turned down the baby monitor.

“They certainly sound unhappy. Do you need to go to them?”

“No, Chrissy and Shannon will be able to deal with them. Why?”

“If you have the time, I’d like to hear what you know about Nadine.”

“Of course,” Susan answered and then paused.

“Susan, no matter what you thought about her, I need information.”

Susan grimaced. “I know, but I didn’t really know her all that well. At least, not enough to like her. Maybe if I had known her better I would have discovered many redeeming characteristics.”

“Why don’t you just tell me about the characteristics that you didn’t like, as well as anything you know about her background, relatives, marriage-you know the drill.”

“Well, Donald and Nadine moved in next door just a few months ago. And about a week later, Nadine moved into my kitchen.”

“What?”

Susan sighed. “Nadine had too much free time and was just a bit too self-involved. I had offered to help them out when they moved in-tell them the name of the best dry cleaner, stuff like that. You know how you do with a new neighbor.”

Brett smiled at her. “I know how nice people like you and Jed do, yes. Go on.”

“Well, in their case none of that was really necessary. Donald’s mother has lived in town for years. In fact, Nadine told me about a wonderful dressmaker downtown who I’d never heard of…”

“So she knew her way around Hancock.”

“Yes. The problem was, I think, that she didn’t have enough to do and she needed a lot of attention. So she began to stop over here once a day or so-just to chat. That’s how she put it.”

“Bugged the hell out of you, didn’t it?” Brett’s smile broadened into a grin.

“Yes. It did. There was no getting rid of her. She didn’t take hints. I don’t think she even heard hints. I would say things like I’ve got to get this done and she would tell me to go ahead and she’d keep me company. But it wasn’t only her presence that was so irritating; it was that she was so sure I wanted to hear every detail of her life, everything she thought…” Susan stopped. “But that doesn’t mean I know everything about her life.”

“You didn’t listen,” Brett guessed.

“Most of the time, no. Oh, I did at first. I heard about every place she had lived and how Hancock compared. And her problems with decorators and deliverymen when she was getting settled. And how hard it was on her that she had to be home to answer the door for all these people and how they didn’t show up on time. And the store that sent the wrong curtain fabric… Things that happen to everyone. Minor things that happen to everyone. But Nadine thought that when they happened to her, they were a crisis. And she made a big deal about them. She was always writing letters to the heads of huge international conglomerates to complain about an employee or some small thing that had happened to her. And she got responses, too-polite ones. I was amazed.”

“Employees? Did she ever get anyone fired?”

“Not that I know of, but she sure tried. She used to rant and rage over the simplest mistake. Like if she ordered a salad and asked for the dressing on the side but then it came drenched in blue cheese, she wouldn’t just send it back and ask for a substitution; she would insist on speaking to the owner of the restaurant and then go on and on-in public-about what had happened. And it happened a lot because she never just ordered what was on the menu. She always had to have something special. We ate dinner with them once at the Hancock Inn, but Jed said never again. Do you think that could be the answer? Maybe she was killed by an angry… uh… an angry unemployed person,” she said, realizing just how silly she sounded.