Jessica R. Patch - Cold Case Christmas

He met Nora as she stepped out and drew her into his arms. “Nora, how many times am I going to have to beg you to stop this? It’s going to get you killed.”

She didn’t respond but pulled from his embrace.

Joshua’s nostrils flared, but underneath the anger was fear. Fear for his daughter. “I’ve given the family staying next to you an upgraded chalet. Rush, you take that one until you don’t need it anymore. I understand appearances.” He peered into Nora’s eyes. “But if you won’t come back to the main house and let me take care of you, then I’ll feel better knowing Rush is six feet away. But again, I wish you’d come up to the house and let Rush look into the attacks. If you stop digging, they might stop.”

Rush thought the same thing, but the killer may believe Nora found the incriminating photo. If so, he would be coming to silence her for it. Rush too.

Nora looked at her dad and then at Rush. “If the results come back that there is no foul play involved, I’ll consider it. But something bad happened that night. I know it.”

Rush believed it too. He didn’t think Nora would consider letting it go. He shook Joshua’s hand. “I appreciate the chalet. I’ll get my things later.”

They stood quietly, a bit awkward, then Joshua tightened his scarf. “I’ve got some work to do.” He left them on Nora’s porch.

“What now?” Nora asked.

“We compile a list of names we heard rumors about and quietly investigate to see if they were true. Then we add their wives to that list. You know the phrase about women scorned.”

“They buy Ben & Jerry’s?” A slender eyebrow twitched north, giving Nora a sly, flirty look.

Heat swarmed Rush’s gut. “Something like that.”

Nora unlocked the chalet and they stepped into the warmth. She hung her coat on the hook by the front door and dropped her purse, hat and gloves on the kitchen counter, then lit the candle she’d wielded as a weapon earlier. Didn’t take long for the chalet to become enveloped in orange and cranberry with a hint of cinnamon.

“We should make a list of the people who were there when the car was taken from the lake too,” she said. “I always stay at the guest chalet. Someone knew it, knew I was home and that I was coming after them. Had to be someone who was there.”

“Not necessarily. Anyone could have picked up the phone to gossip and shared it with the wrong—or right—person. I’ll work on the men with rumored affairs and their wives.” He’d spare her that dreaded deed. “After I build a fire.”

“I’ll make coffee.”

They went to work on their tasks, then sat on opposite ends of the sofa, notebooks in hand, stopping every once in a while to pour more coffee. Nora pulled a box of ginger snaps from the cupboard that had been stocked. Rush was thankful for them; he hadn’t eaten dinner.

“I only have about ten people on my list, and I know more were at the lake that night.” Nora tapped her lead pencil on the notebook and scowled. He’d always loved her perturbed look. It made her nose perkier and her full lips poutier.

He tried to ignore his attraction and focus on the work. “Read off the names and let’s see if any of them match mine, then we’ll circle them and put them at the top of our suspect list.”

Nora smirked. “You got it, Matlock.”

Rush chuckled and Nora read her list. He circled the names she called out that he had on his list of rumored affairs: Ward McKay, Len Franklin and Harvey Langston. He still had three more names on his list. Martin Hassleback, Kent Sammons and Rodney Jones.

“Let’s start with the first three we matched and then move on with the other three. Ward, Harvey, Len and Martin are divorced so they rank even higher as the chances of the rumors being true are greater,” Rush said.

Nora rolled her pencil along her bottom lip. He cleared his throat. “I’m only speculating. Don’t take it as the gospel truth.”

“Why do you keep prefacing your speculations or putting that addendum on there? Cops speculate, Rush. It’s not like you’re accusing anyone of anything...yet.” Nora laid her notepad and pencil on the coffee table, stretched and yawned.

“I don’t want to falsely accuse anyone of something. It could wreck them.” And himself.

“Fine, but we have to process our ideas. I’m not going to go out there and tell the world these things.”

No, just the men whose names are on the list. And if they didn’t have an affair, it might circulate once again and marriages could fall apart and worse. Rush’s cell phone rang. Gary Plenk. “It’s the coroner.”

“Put him on speaker,” Nora said.

“Hey, Gary, what’s up? You’re on speaker with myself and Nora Livingstone.”

There was a pause on the line. Gary had bad news. Rush glanced at Nora and she nodded. “It’s okay, Gary, you can say what you need to say.”

“I’m so sorry, Nora. The DNA was conclusive.”

“I was prepared for that. Thank you,” Nora said but her voice choked up and she stared at the floor.

“Uh... Rush, could we talk a minute?” Gary asked.

Nora held up her hand and shook her head. Words wouldn’t come. Right now, he wanted to tell Gary to call back later, take Nora into his arms and comfort her, but he doubted she’d let him. She may have been prepared for this call, but the reality was Marilyn was gone. Forever. It was official.

Rush paused, but the look in Nora’s eye told the tale. She wanted to hear it all—needed to. “Go ahead, Gary.”

Gary cleared his throat. “I’m ruling this an accidental death, but when you look at the report and photos, you’ll see some striations on the...on the skull.”

“Cause?” Rush asked, his stomach roiling over what Nora might be imagining. He should have taken Gary off speakerphone.

“Unfortunately, they’re inconclusive.”

“Meaning there could have been foul play involved?” Nora asked, but her voice cracked. “Have you double-checked?”

“I’m sorry, Nora,” Gary said. “I have. They could have come from the impact of the car hitting the water, causing her to hit her head on the steering wheel or another part of the vehicle, but I can’t be one hundred percent sure.”

“Then it’s possible that something else caused those marks.”

“I don’t believe so, no,” Gary said, this time a bit firmer. “I think what we have here is a terrible tragedy, and I am sorry for your loss and the loss of your family.”

“Thanks, Gary. I appreciate it.” Rush hung up before Nora pressed on.

She stood, then sat. Tears spilled over her cheeks as the harsh reality sank in. Rush tried to hold her, but she pushed him away as expected. Instead of getting upset over the fact that she didn’t want him or his comfort, he quietly sat while she dealt with the death inwardly, and then she hurried to the bathroom, closing herself off even further from him. When she returned, he stood. “I’m so sorry, Nora Beth. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. She really is gone. Dad will want to have a proper burial. I need to work on the arrangements.” She sniffed, wiped her nose on her sleeve and composed herself outwardly. “But I can’t dismiss the fact that the striations are inconclusive. That means it’s not definite and you know it.”

There was no arguing that Gary had been the coroner for over a decade and a doctor for twenty years prior. Nora had latched onto the idea that Marilyn had been hurt that night. Rush massaged the back of his neck, working the tightness out. She had a point, even though it was slight.

“And even if she wasn’t murdered, there’s money involved. What if she was blackmailed for something—or forbid it all, blackmailing someone—Money laundering, payoffs...the list is endless. Rush, you’re a total cop. Tell me you think it’s all coincidence and it should be laid to rest and I’ll believe you.”