Death Changes Everything (4 page)

4

Emma was kneeling on a gardening pad, digging up a bulb bed she’d put in the first year she had come to Casper. Bulbs lasted many seasons, but they did eventually need to be replaced in order to keep the bed vibrant. She’d chosen a base of tulips in a wide range of colors, with grape hyacinth and crocus planted only a few inches deep.

Grace sat on a sunshine yellow Adirondack chair, one of many that ringed the fire pit area nearby. Emma had painted each of the bare wooden chairs a different color. The high, desert climate in which Casper was located brought vibrant springs. The wild rush of blooms was welcome after months of bleak and bare winters, but the dry days of summer quickly turned the landscape brown again. Emma compensated with bright colors in her outdoor pots, planters, and furniture.

Emma sat back and surveyed her work with a satisfied smile. Then she spread a layer of chicken wire across the fresh dirt, covering it with a thick layer of mulch. Gathering her hand tools, she set them on a shelf in the gardening shed Jake had built for her at the far edge of the yard, and took a robin’s egg blue chair next to Grace.

“I almost didn’t make it,” she said, putting her feet up on the stone rim of the fire pit.

“Didn’t make it?”

“Before the ground froze. You have to get bulbs into the ground at least a few weeks before it freezes or they’ll just rot in the ground.”

“It’s quite a struggle, gardening here. I begin to think I’ve taken my California winters for granted.”

“California was wonderful for flowers. My roses bloomed all year round and I had a geranium bush, not just the potted ones I have here. And bamboo. I had the most amazing shrub outside my townhouse called heavenly bamboo. I had a clump of butterfly iris that I just loved, though my bearded irises here are prettier and you can’t get lilacs unless you have cold winters.”

“I never knew you were so enthusiastic about flowers.”

“I’ve always loved them. My back yard, if you want to call it that, was a ten-by-ten square of dirt that was as full of as many flowers as I could grow. Here, I have nothing but space, but the conditions are harsh and the water — well never get Jake started talking about water rights in Wyoming.”

“Since we’re talking of old times in California, I don’t recall you ever mentioning your family, Emma. Surely, your parents are still living?”

“Oh yes. They’re in Florida. We started in Santa Barbara, but they moved to the Bay Area when my youngest sister started high school. They moved to Florida after she graduated.”

“I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

“Two sisters and a brother.”

“How did I not know that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just never talk much about myself. What about your family?”

“I had two brothers. I lost one in Vietnam and the other died a few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“My mother was devastated when Chuck was drafted. She was sure from that day until the day he died that he was never coming home. My father never understood the level of anger and hatred the nation had toward the men who served in Vietnam. Once when he visited my brother’s grave, he found it spray-painted with the words
Baby killer
.”

“Oh no! How could anyone do that?”

“People used to do things like that, and worse. They’d spit on a soldier walking by. They’d throw rocks through houses of people with blue star banners in the windows. I could understand the arguments against the war, but the vitriol leveled against men in uniform just took my breath away.”

“You never married, Grace?”

“No. There was…someone.” Her voice faded as her thoughts turned inward. “But that was a long time ago. Some things aren’t meant to be.”

***

Matt whistled as he parked his car in the police lot and walked the short distance to Kristy’s apartment. The one compensation of working swing shift was that he was not on call during the week. Unless there was a break in the case he was working, his time off duty was his own. He and Kristy could have a few blissfully undisturbed hours together.

Kristy was waiting for him in the lobby of her building. He slid his arms around her and tilted her face up for a kiss. “I am so happy to see you.”

She smiled up at him and didn’t pull out of his arms, as she usually did in public places. “I’m happy, too.”

“So where would you like to go for lunch?”

“Upstairs. If you’re ready for a little home cooking, I thought I’d show you what this southern girl can do.”

“That is one of your best ideas, Miss Castle.”

“Glad you think so, Detective. I’d hate to get on the wrong side of the law.”

As Kristy bustled in the kitchen, Matt sat at the bar watching. He’d offered to help, but the kitchen was too small for two people to work comfortably. They chatted companionably, Kristy catching Matt up on her dinner with Cheri and the latest gossip from the Greeters. Matt told her he was working on a high-profile case, but she knew not to ask for details.

She set two plates and two glasses of iced tea on the bar in front of Matt and came around to join him. Matt inhaled the aroma of fried chicken and mashed potatoes with creamed gravy and picked up his fork with a smile. “This is so worth the extra hour I’m gonna have to spend at the gym every day next week.”

Kristy blushed, but nudged his arm with her shoulder. “Liar,” she said without rancor. They finished their meal and she let Matt wash the dishes while she made coffee. Taking their mugs to the living room, they sat on the sofa. Matt stretched his arms over the back of the sofa and Kristy curled up next to him.

“Okay, out with it.”

Red appeared at the base of Kristy’s neck and spread upward, letting Matt know he’d guessed correctly. Jake always told him how hard it was on a man being married to a therapist, but Matt would pit the deductive and observational skills of a police detective against the clinical skills of any therapist, any day.

Kristy opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She stood up and walked to the window, then asked if he wanted cream or sugar for his coffee. “You already asked me that.”

“Can I get you anything for dessert? I have cheesecake from last night.”

“You already asked me that, too.” He patted the sofa next to him. “You can’t fool me. Sit back down and tell me what’s bothering you.”

She moved back to the living room but chose the chair at a right angle to the sofa. “Matt…” she began, but stopped again. She slapped the arms of the chair forcefully, startling Matt. “Why is this so hard?”

Matt sat forward, placing his feet squarely on the rug that softened the concrete floor. His pulse raced as though preparing to chase after a suspect. He took her hand, fighting to keep his voice calm and telling himself she wouldn’t have invited him up for a home-cooked meal only to break up with him.

“Matt, there’s something I want—no, something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

“I need to…” Kristy was interrupted by the sound of Matt’s phone beeping, slicing through the tension between them. “Oh, crimanently!”

“Crima-whatly?” Matt pulled his phone off a clip on his belt and glanced at it. Frowning, he punched in a number. “This had better be good, Luis…what? Oh my God…yeah, I’ll be right there.”

He flipped his phone shut and caught the look on Kristy’s face. “I can wait a few minutes.”

“No, no. You need to go. I understand. We’ll do this another time.”

“Are you sure?”

“It must be important, right? For them to page you while you’re on swing?”

“You know I wouldn’t go if it weren’t.”

“Can you tell me what it is?”

Matt hesitated. “Steven Hill has been shot. His wife found the body and went screaming out into the street. Neighbors called it in so it’s not exactly a secret.”

“Oh Matt, how sad. I didn’t know Steven, but I’ve met his parents. They seem like such nice people.”

“Salt of the Earth. I’ll call you as soon as I get a free minute. If I get off early, do you want me to come back?”

Kristy pulled him up off the sofa. She put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. “Absolutely.”

***

Matt’s was one of four police vehicles parked in front of Steven Hill’s home. Hill lived in one of Casper’s most desirable, established neighborhoods. The old-growth trees, manicured lawns and well-kept brick homes whispered money without needing to shout. Deer strolled down these streets, charming some residents and irritating others, who fought a futile battle to keep the deer out of their flowerbeds.

Matt climbed the stone slab steps to the covered porch. He noticed Hill’s patio furniture had already been covered in anticipation of days too cold and windy for their use. The front door was standing open and he noted both the lock and the frame were intact. A slate stone entry area opened into what his grandmother would have called a parlor. Officer Luis Altrez was waiting for him there.

“Body’s in the home office. Lab boys are going over it but I asked the Coroner to hold off until you got here. I told her you like to see the scene before anything’s been moved.”

Matt followed Altrez down the hall to the back of the house. Virginia Parks had been elected County Coroner after Zeke Cartwright retired, and this was the first case Matt had worked with her. She was leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, wearing shapeless white overalls and booties. A disposable bouffant cap covered her hair. Cartwright had always refused to wear the getup, telling Matt he was too old to look that ridiculous.

He’d only met Parks in passing, when she was introduced at a police briefing shortly after she took office. No one had run against her, but she was more than qualified for the office. In her late 30s, she was a certified crime scene investigator with a Master’s Degree in Forensic Science. Matt had wondered if Casper was a commitment or a stepping stone for her.

“Ms. Parks, I’m Detective Matt Joyner. I’ll be heading up the investigation.”

“Officer Altrez suggested I wait for you. I like to let the lab techs get their pictures first, so we can go in together.” She handed Matt a set of gloves and booties, and waited for him to put them on, then went ahead of him into the room.

The office was small, richly but sparsely furnished. An antique desk faced the door with two large windows behind it with a view of the back yard. A bookshelf stood against the wall next to the door and a closet door was standing open along the wall to his left. Matt took this in at a glance, then knelt beside Hill’s body, which was on the floor between the desk and the closet door.

There was little doubt that Steven Hill had been murdered. He’d been shot twice in the back, at fairly close range, judging from the powder burns on his shirt. Blood was spattered across the area in front of the body and had pooled on the wood floor beneath where Hill lay.

Parks put her hand gently on his shoulder. “If you’ve seen enough, Detective, you might want to get a little fresh air.”

Chagrined, Matt nodded and got up to leave the room. Pulling off his booties and gloves, he dumped them into the haz-mat bag outside the door. Altrez was waiting for him. “What can you tell me, Luis?”

The officer consulted his notes. “Wife saw him at breakfast. Everything seemed normal. Left mid-morning to go shopping and had lunch with a couple of female friends. Came straight home from lunch and found him. The rest I already told you.”

“You’re just a bucket of information, Luis.”

“You’re the detective. I just write the reports.”

“Where’s Mrs. Hill? You got her first name?”

“Madeline. She’s across the street with a neighbor. I told her you’d be over.”

“Anyone else in the house?”

“According to the neighbors, the kids are grown and gone.”

Altrez stepped away to answer a call on his radio and Matt crossed the street to speak to Hill’s wife. A teenage boy had been watching for him and opened the door as he climbed the steps onto the porch.

“She’s in the kitchen with my mom. She’s flipping out.”

The teen’s description of Mrs. Hill’s state of mind, while not the most compassionate Matt had ever heard, was accurate. Madeline Hill was sitting at the kitchen table, sobbing. Clutching her oversized purse tightly to her chest, she rocked back and forth, mumbling to herself unintelligibly. Tears cascaded down her face in gruesome black mascara streaks.

The teen’s mother was leaning against the counter, watching her guest, but not attempting to intervene. “Maddie,” she said when Matt entered. When there was no response, she tried again, more forcefully. “Maddie!” Mrs. Hill stopped in mid-rock and stared at her, her mouth still open, but suddenly silent.

“The police are here. I’m sure they want to talk to you.”

She stared at Matt, her mouth still open, her expression unfocused. Her hostess shrugged her shoulders. “She’s been like this the whole time.”

Matt crouched down and made eye contact with the distraught widow. “Mrs. Hill, I’m Detective Joyner. I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”