An Anniversary to Die For (28 page)

“Very nice speech, Mrs. Henshaw. I was wondering if I could have a copy of it to print in the paper.”

“Oh, of course.” Susan looked around. “Didn’t you come here with Jinx?”

“Yup. She’s around here somewhere. Jinx Jensen is one very independent woman. She said she needed to find someone and took off.”

“Oh, well, I need to find her, too. If you see her . . .”

“I’ll let her know you’re looking for her. She had a whole pile of stuff in her purse to show you.”

Susan smiled broadly. “That is good news.”

Jinx was sitting on a hideous crushed velvet chaise lounge in the living room, peering at the crowd. She waved when she spied Susan, spilling her glass of wine on her seat. “Damn, I didn’t mean to do that. Do you have a napkin?”

“No, but I wouldn’t worry. It would take more than a little wine to damage that ugly thing.” Susan sat down beside Jinx. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I found Sam, and he said you have some papers.”

“Yes! You don’t want to know how much work it took, but I finally found a few articles about the Markses, and even a mention of the first poisoning.” Jinx looked around the crowded room. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to look at them.”

“We could go next door, but I haven’t seen Doug yet and I wouldn’t want him to think I’d leave without talking to him. Why don’t we go upstairs?” Susan suggested. “If anyone wonders what we’re doing, we can claim to be looking for an empty bathroom.”

“Lead the way.”

There turned out to be an unoccupied bathroom conveniently located at the top of the stairs. Susan and Jinx slipped in and carefully locked the door behind them. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you copied the articles,” Susan said, holding out her hand.

“Where do you think that came from?” Jinx asked, staring at a hideous oak toilet surround.

“Who knows? Where are the papers?”

“Here. Sam said it was okay if I circled the relevant bits. He said I’m only the third person interested in searching through the morgue since he’s been editor of the paper, so there’s no reason to be too fussy. They’re not in any order.”

But Susan didn’t care. She sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and picked up the top issue of the
Oxford Democrat
. She’d been waiting so long.

She looked up five minutes later. “I just remembered. I told Kathleen I’d be back in ten minutes.”

“Where is she?”

“In the backyard by the rose garden. She’s sitting on a bench.”

“You go ahead and finish reading, and I’ll go tell her what’s going on,” Jinx offered.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“I know who she is. It was her husband who offered the toast at your party, right? And they both ate dinner with you.”

“Exactly. Tell her I’ll be out as soon as possible.”

“No problem.” Jinx opened the door. Susan, hearing her explain to someone that the bathroom was still occupied, returned to her reading.

The articles about the Marks family were on top of the pile. Susan learned that not only had Doug been active in Scouts and 4-H, but that he had won the egg toss at the annual July Fourth picnic held in the Oxford Landing town square. There was a charming photograph of him as an eleven-year-old, dripping raw egg on the ground and grinning proudly. She skimmed articles about his science fair wins and studied in detail the article announcing his wedding to Ashley. As Jinx had said, Ashley had been a beautiful bride. Susan found herself staring at the black-and-white photograph, wondering whether the young woman there had had any inkling of what the future held for her and her new husband.

Signe’s birth was announced properly, but there was little more of note until Susan found three clippings concerning the untimely illnesses of the owners of the Marks farm. Jinx had implied that Sam’s father was intimidated by the important citizens of Oxford Landing, and the shortness of these articles attested to her belief. Poison, as a possible reason for the family’s continuing illness, wasn’t even mentioned until the final article, when it was stated that authorities had sent samples of various bodily fluids off to state forensic experts for identification. What the samples revealed had either gone unreported or else that article was still hidden away in one of the
Oxford Democrat
’s filing cabinets.

There were four more articles clipped together underneath those she had already studied. Susan picked them up and removed the paper clip, frowning until she recognized the photograph accompanying the top article. The Twigg sisters, years younger but still recognizable, stood together on the steps leading to the front door of the Landing Inn. Alvena was smiling broadly; Constance’s expression was more reserved. The women’s arms were outstretched in a gesture Susan didn’t understand until she read the article. They were supposed to be welcoming guests to the Landing Inn after what the article called “a major remodeling” of the inn. The article went on to enumerate the various improvements, many of which, it claimed, had been suggested by the inn’s guests. The next article concerned a crime wave that had “held Oxford Landing in its grip”— Jinx had added red exclamation marks after this phrase— seven years ago. Among the various problems, cars in the inn’s parking lot had been broken into and various personal items stolen. Alvena was quoted, confirming her belief that Peter Konowitz, a local boy she had known for years and who was now attending the state police academy and had been hired as a security officer for the inn, would easily catch the perpetrators of these horrors. There was no mention of whether or not that had happened.

The last article concerned the hiring of Peter Konowitz by the Oxford Landing police force. The new Officer Konowitz was described as good-looking, young, and enthusiastic. The accompanying photograph confirmed the first two qualities. Alvena Twigg confirmed the last. “I’ve known Peter since he was in ninth grade,” Miss Twigg was quoted as saying. “He’s smart, ambitious, and hardworking. He will be a real asset to the Oxford Landing Police Department. I, for one,” she ended, “will sleep better knowing Officer Konowitz is on the job.” Susan read the story once again. Then she put the articles in calendar order and reviewed what she’d just read. Why, she wondered, had no one bothered to mention the fact that the first poisonings had taken place only a few months after Peter Konowitz had been hired?

Susan stood up. Time to return to her family and friends. She opened the bathroom door and found herself face-to-face with Doug Marks.

“Doug . . . I didn’t mean to be in here so long,” she said, stuffing the clippings into her purse.

“Some of my guests were concerned about the length of time this bathroom has been in use. I just came up to make sure everything was okay. But now that I’ve found you, I can tell you how much I appreciate your participation in Ashley’s service. I know she would have felt the same way I do.”

“I was happy to be asked,” Susan lied, following her host downstairs. “I was looking for you earlier. I haven’t had an opportunity to express my condolences. We’ll all miss Ashley.”

The tears that suddenly appeared in Doug’s eyes came as a complete surprise. He took both her hands and squeezed them. “Not everyone will miss her. I know how she could be. But I will, and I believe Signe will. And that might just be enough, don’t you think?”

“I . . . Yes, of course.” Susan didn’t know what else to say. It was a relief when another neighbor appeared to offer condolences. Susan hurried off to the backyard and found Kathleen and Jinx chatting together. She collapsed onto the spot they cleared for her on the bench and sighed. “He loved her. Doug Marks really loved that awful woman.”

Jinx looked up, obviously surprised. “Why are you surprised? That’s the way it seemed throughout her trial. The papers said that he was there every day.”

“I know. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I didn’t like Ashley. She was certainly not the type of person I wanted to move in next door. I guess I just assumed everyone else felt the way I did.”

Kathleen reached for the bottle of wine Dan Hallard had left, poured out a glass, and handed it to her. “Here. This might help.”

“Nothing helps. I want to find out who killed Ashley. I ask dozens of questions, and I still don’t know anything. No one seems to know anything. I go from one police station to the inn to the other police station. And I don’t learn anything new. I find a bottle that could be evidence, but I still don’t know if it is or if—” Susan stopped speaking and reached into her purse.

“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked.

“Wasn’t there something about evidence in those newspaper articles you just gave me?” Susan flipped through the newsprint as she spoke. “See, that’s what I’m saying! I just read those articles, and I’m not sure what’s important and what’s not. I just can’t get a handle on this investigation. Alvena tells me about the Markses’ past, and Jinx finds a bunch of information in the local newspapers, but I can’t fit it all together. I know I’m missing something. Hell, I know I’m missing a lot. There must be lots of people I haven’t talked to. I just don’t know who they are. As far as I know, Ashley and Doug didn’t have any real friends in Hancock. They may have moved into this house because I was living next door. But neither Doug nor Ashley ever made any serious attempt to get to know Jed or me. Of course, Ashley didn’t need to. She ran around town claiming to be my friend without ever worrying about whether she was or not.” Susan picked up her full wineglass and drained it. “That’s bothering me, too. I seem to have been set up here. I feel like the Markses invaded my town, my neighborhood, and then, damn it, my party and my life, and I don’t have any idea why!” She stood up.

“Where are you going?” Kathleen asked.

“Home. I’m going to . . . I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go finish my thank-you notes.”

There were only a dozen or so more notes to write, and Susan got down to work immediately. She’d had a rotten day, she was tired, and she certainly shouldn’t have inhaled that last glass of wine. But, for some reason, the combination of anger, fatigue, and alcohol did the trick, and she dashed off the last of the notes in record time.

“There you are, Clue,” she said to the dog who was lying on her dog bed, underneath Jed’s desk. “Want to take a walk to the mailbox with me?”

Clue jumped up, putting her front paws on the desk and toppling the pile of stamped notes Susan had left near the edge. She grabbed for them and came up with yet another of the Landing Inn Guest Questionnaire forms that Alvena was always after her to fill out. Clue sat back down, an eager expression on her furry face. Susan glanced at the sheet of paper and tossed it on Jed’s desk.

And then picked it up. She had promised to fill this out. If she did it now, she could put it in the mail with her thank-you notes and she wouldn’t have to think about it again. It would take very little time. The first question was standard: How did you hear about the Landing Inn?

Susan thought for a minute before realizing that the answer to this question was at least part of the answer to all the other more serious questions she’d been asking for the last week. In a way, it was the key that held everything together.

THIRTY-ONE

^“
ASHLEY MARKS PLANNED HER OWN MURDER!”

“Susan, you know how these cell phones are! It sounds like you said that Ashley Marks planned her own murder,” Kathleen responded.

“You heard me just fine. Ashley planned her own murder. I called Brett and he’s on his way over here, but I wanted to tell you first.”

“So tell me! And start from the beginning,” Kathleen insisted.

“Remember the party we gave for the Markses right after they arrived in town?”

“Of course. I learned that Doug was a clean-water expert who loved guns, and you were busy elsewhere.”

“I was busy talking with Ashley. About our upcoming anniversary party. That’s when she did it. She suggested the Landing Inn.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I got so involved in the planning and all that I forgot where the original idea came from until a few minutes ago. But the idea was Ashley’s. I remember thinking that it was a brilliant idea—having the party where we spent the first night of our marriage. I didn’t know about the food and all, but she assured me that the inn had changed over the years and would be a perfect place for a party. And of course it was.

“Kath, that’s the doorbell. It must be Brett.”

“Don’t you dare go on until I get there! I’m only three blocks away! It will take less than two minutes! I want to hear everything!” Kathleen hung up without bothering to say good-bye.

Erika and Brett were at the door, still in the clothes they’d worn to the funeral. Jed, who had come home to find Susan excited and Clue desperate for a walk, strolled up the sidewalk behind them. Susan glanced next door. There were three cars in the driveway and about a dozen parked on the street. It looked like Doug was still entertaining funeral guests.

“Kathleen’s on the way over. I caught her on her cell phone in her car. She had just left Doug’s house,” Susan explained, leading them all into the living room. “Although maybe I should have called Jinx. She did a lot of the research.” But a quick glance at Brett’s face and she stopped chattering. “You know,” she said quietly, sitting down on the arm of the chair where Jed was sitting.

Brett nodded. “Yes, I’ve tried to think of anyone else who would fit, and I can’t.” He leaned against the mantel and frowned. “Erika and I were at the service. But after we left the church, we headed straight for the police station. We decided not to go next door. I was worried that our presence at the service might have been disrupting enough, so Erika went to the station with me.”

“I saw Signe. She’s fine,” Erika spoke up.

“I should have realized that you had Signe,” Susan said to Brett.

“Protective custody. Signe agreed because she was scared. She refused to talk about it, but I think she believed her father had killed her mother. And that he just might be dangerous.”