by J A Whiting
Once the first officer recovered, he walked over to Chief Martin. His face was as white as a sheet. Shakily, he said, “The woman is dead. Once the detective arrives, he might allow you in.”
Police sirens could be heard getting closer, and within minutes a swarm of officers rushed into the house.
“What the heck is going on?” Angie asked. “First Rachel, now Jessica?”
“The deaths have to be related.” Jenna stared at the people moving around the yard.
An ambulance arrived, and the EMTs hurried into the house.
“It seems so, but in what way?” the chief asked. “Did the woman commit suicide over the death of her friend? Was she already suffering from depression and Rachel’s murder pushed her over the edge?”
“I didn’t think of that,” Angie admitted.
“It could also be a terrible coincidence with two random attackers,” the chief said. “Or are the deaths connected? Did they do something to anger someone? What are the links between the women and the attacker?”
Angie and Jenna continued to watch the police do their work.
“Jessica could have suffered a death from natural causes,” the chief offered another possibility. “But I might discount that option since the first officer came hurrying out of the home and practically got sick. That tells me it wasn’t a heart attack or even an accidental overdose. The scene is something that shocked and sickened an officer. Violence must have been inflicted, either self-inflicted or by another person. We’ll have to wait to be briefed by one of the officers or a detective.”
“What a mess. Can I text Courtney, Ellie, and Mr. Finch to let them know what’s happened?” Jenna asked.
“Sure. Just tell them to keep it to themselves for now.”
With a brisk step, an officer came over to the chief. “Detective Myers would like to speak with you, if you don’t mind.”
The chief nodded, told the sisters he wouldn’t be long, and followed the man to a tent that had been set up near the garage.
“My guess is there’s a ninety percent chance the two deaths are related.” Jenna crossed her arms over her chest and continued to watch the commotion.
“Not ninety-nine percent sure?” Angie asked.
“That’s probably closer to the truth.”
“The chief might be with the detective for a while. Let’s sit. We’re not in anyone’s way over here.” Angie and her sister took seats on the patio.
“Do you feel anything?” Jenna asked.
“Besides horror and disbelief, I’m not sure what I feel. I’d like to get inside that house so we can try to sense what went on, but that won’t happen this afternoon.”
“The door wasn’t unlocked,” Jenna said. “The door wasn’t jimmied or smashed. So was it someone Jessica knew?”
“The police must have checked the front door when they were trying to find out if Jessica was at home. It must have been locked, too. It might not have been someone she knew. She might have thought it was Chief Martin arriving early for the meeting. And anyway, it’s daytime, if someone rang at the Victorian or at your house, you’d answer the door to see who it was.”
“I might not anymore,” Jenna sighed.
“I know what you mean. We should get one of those camera things so you can see who’s ringing the bell without opening the door to them.”
“What in the world could have happened that it angered someone to the point of killing them?” Jenna asked.
“Money? Drugs? I just don’t know.” Angie looked at her sister. “Something might have happened that weekend when Rachel came up here for a visit. Rachel’s sometime boyfriend told us Rachel was acting a little odd when she came back from her weekend away. She was jumpy, he said. She seemed distracted. The timing is right. I wonder when Rachel started to search the internet for information about running away and disappearing. If it was before she visited Jessica, then what they did that weekend probably wasn’t the thing that caused all this.”
Jenna said, “But if she researched disappearing after the weekend with Jessica, then the time they spent together might have been the factor that caused their deaths.”
“We need more information,” Angie said. “We need to know what they did that weekend.” She looked over at the tent where the chief was speaking with the detective. “I’d love to know what’s being said.”
“You and me both.”
“They’ll probably swear him to secrecy and he won’t be able to tell us anything,” Angie worried.
“We’ll pull it out of him.”
A wail pierced the air and Jenna and Angie whirled around to see a woman in her thirties rushing down the driveway, crying. An officer took her arm while another officer reached for the other arm, and they talked softly to her.
“A relative?” Jenna suggested.
“A sister maybe.”
Chief Martin emerged from the tent and the officers ushered the crying woman inside.
The chief sat down next to the sisters. “That’s Jessica’s sister, Julia. That won’t be an easy conversation the detective is about to have with her.” He looked from Angie to Jenna. “Short story is they don’t have a clue what happened here, but they’re very concerned to hear that she and Rachel were long-time friends. I told them what we know so far about Rachel … which isn’t a whole lot.” He paused and took in a deep breath. “Jessica’s forearms were badly slashed. Initially, it might appear to be a suicide, but because of the young woman’s connection to Rachel, it is suspected that an attacker cut her to make it look like she slashed her own wrists. The crime scene investigators have to do their thing and the medical examiner will report her findings. So we’ll see. It will be a few days until they make their determination.”
“Wow,” Jenna shook her head. “What a mess.”
“Will they let you inside to see the body?” Angie asked.
“If I asked, they’d let me in, but there’s no need for me to do that. I’ll have access to the crime scene photos and all the reports. The detective told me I can speak with Jessica’s sister as soon as he briefs her. He and I will interview her together. You can sit in with us as well, but only to listen.”
“Okay. We can do that.” Angie nodded.
Jenna said, “There’s no evidence of forced entry, right?”
“That’s right. Jessica must have opened the door to whoever rang the bell. Either she knew the person, or she opened the door to see what the person wanted. I don’t think she thought it was us. She’s been dead for about two or three hours. We wouldn’t have arrived hours early for the meeting.”
Angie agreed with the chief’s idea. “Did Rachel do her internet sleuthing on how to disappear before or after she visited Jessica for the weekend?”
“After.”
“So that makes me think that Jessica and Rachel somehow crossed paths with their killer,” Angie said.
“Or Rachel was already worried about something, she discussed it with Jessica, and they came up with the idea of running away without leaving a trace,” the chief said. “Jessica’s devices will be searched to see whether she also looked for information on how to disappear. If she did, they’ll determine when she did the searches. If it was when Rachel was here, or shortly thereafter, then Jessica may have been trying to help her friend, or they were both in danger and were planning to escape together.”
“If they were that afraid, why wouldn’t they go to the police?” Jenna asked.
“For some reason, they probably didn’t think it would help them,” the chief said.
“This thing is like a huge spider’s web with the web going off in all directions,” Angie said.
The chief nodded. “We just have to figure out who the spider is who’s sitting in the middle of it all.”
14
Angie, Jenna, and Chief Martin were invited into the tent to meet Jessica’s sister, thirty-five-year old Julia Hanson-Smith. The woman sat in a metal folding chair dabbing at her wet, red eyes. Julia carried a few extra pound
s and had brown chin-length hair.
Detective Myers introduced Chief Martin and the chief introduced Angie and Jenna.
“Things like this don’t happen around here,” Julia sniffed. “My poor sister. Who would do such a terrible thing?”
“Your sister and Rachel Princeton were friends, is that correct?” the chief started the discussion.
Julia nodded. “Since they were little. They did everything together. Now they’re both gone. Do you have a suspect in Rachel’s death?”
“Not yet,” the chief said. “We hope to soon.”
“Did the same person kill both of them?” Julia used the wadded up tissue to dab again at her eyes. “Do you think that’s what happened?”
“I’m afraid it’s too soon to say,” Detective Myers told the woman.
“Well, what in the world happened here?” Julia demanded to know.
“The investigation has only just started,” the detective explained with a gentle tone.
“Did you know that Rachel came to visit your sister for the weekend not long ago?” the chief questioned.
“Yes, I knew. I came by to see Rachel. It was really nice to see her.” Julia let out a sound like a hiccup.
“How did she seem?”
“She was friendly and pleasant like she always is. She’s an upbeat person. She’s nice to be around.” Julia bit her lower lip. “Was … she was nice to be around.”
“Did she talk to you about being worried about anything? About someone being angry over something?”
“No, Rachel didn’t mention anything like that to me,” Julia said with conviction. “She seemed happy.”
“Did she talk about her work?”
“Rachel never talked in detail about her work. She might tell us what she working on, but it was explained in general terms, no specifics.” Julia gripped her hands together with the tissue trapped in between.
“Was she excited about her projects?” the chief asked.
“She was very upbeat about her work.”
“Did she talk about a boyfriend?”
“She’d been seeing a guy for several months. She was still with him. Rachel told us that she liked the man, but it was a casual thing. They might go a couple of weeks without seeing each other.” Julia’s eyes widened. “You don’t think her boyfriend killed her, do you?”
“We don’t have any suspects at this time,” the chief said. “Did Rachel’s boyfriend ever come up with her to visit Jessica?”
“No, I don’t think Jessica ever met him. I certainly had not.”
The chief asked quietly, “Did your sister ever think of harming herself?”
Julia sat straight. “Hurt herself? No way. You think it was suicide? Absolutely not. My sister wouldn’t do such a thing. She did not die from anything self-inflicted. It’s out of the question. I’m one-hundred percent sure of that. She loved her life, her work, her house.”
“Did Jessica talk about anything that was bothering her?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Anything said in passing, like an argument with a business associate, a contractor, a client?” the chief asked.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. When you work with people … when you work with the public, you always have some things that don’t go perfectly well. People can be difficult. Jessica could always smooth over anything that might be bothering someone. She was a people person. She listened. People liked her.”
Except for one person who didn’t, Angie thought to herself.
“Were there any snags in a deal she was doing?”
Julia shook her head. “She never mentioned a word about any snags or problems.”
“Did she seem worried or concerned about anything?” the chief asked again.
“There are always concerns when you’re working in real estate, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You and your sister were close?” The detective asked the woman.
“We were very close.” Julia’s eyes watered, but she was able to keep the tears from falling.
“Did you talk often?”
“Almost every day.” Julia closed her eyes for a few moments and then swallowed. “There will be a huge hole in my life now.”
Angie watched Julia’s face. There was something about what she was saying that didn’t ring true. She wondered if the emotion Julia was showing was real. What she was saying and displaying didn’t seem to reach the woman’s eyes. Angie felt something was off.
“When did you see your sister last?” Angie asked.
Julia looked almost startled that Angie had asked a question. “Ah, um, let’s see. The day I came over to see Rachel.”
“That was what? About two weeks ago?”
“About that, yes.”
“And if Detective Myers looks up your phone records, he’d see calls between you and Jessica almost every day?”
“Well, not every day.” Julia looked away from Angie.
“Did you and Jessica get along?”
“Of course, we did.”
“Did you hang out together? Get dinner together? Do things outside with each other?”
Julia’s face seemed to harden. “Jessica was an athlete, I’m not. Jessica was always busy with work or with working out. She didn’t have a lot of time. I’d meet her for coffee once in a while. We didn’t have a lot of time together.”
Angie nodded. “What do you do for work?”
“I’m a nurse practitioner. It’s not as lucrative as what Jessica did for work, but I like my job and I’m proud of my skills.”
Angie sensed some competition between the sisters. “It’s an important profession.”
“It is. We do good work.” Some tears began to flow. “I’m feeling very tired. Is there much more you want to talk to me about?”
The detective and the chief exchanged glances, and Detective Myers said, “I think we’re all done for now, but we both might want to speak to you again. I’ll share your contact information with the chief. Thank you for your time. Again, our condolences about your sister.”
Julia nodded, stood, and left the tent.
“Sorry for asking a few questions,” Angie told them. “What Julia was saying didn’t ring true to me. They clearly didn’t have the buddy-buddy relationship she was trying to portray.”
“I agree. I’ll look into where she was around the time Jessica was attacked. She told me she was at home. I’ll find out if that was so. Thanks for your help with the interview.” Detective Myers nodded at the chief. “I’ll be in touch.” He excused himself and left the tent.
“So Jessica didn’t take her own life? That’s off the table?” Jenna asked.
“I’d say so. Whoever attacked her made it look as if she might have hurt herself, but I’m not buying it,” Chief Martin said.
“Neither am I,” Angie agreed with him.
“Good,” Jenna said, “because I don’t think she killed herself either. What about the sister? Is she a suspect?”
“I’d sure put her on the list.” The chief stretched his back muscles. “How about we head home?”
It was dark when the chief dropped Angie and Jenna back at their homes. Angie walked into the Victorian to find Euclid, Circe, and Violet waiting for her in the foyer.
“Hello, best cats and dog,” Angie patted each one of them. “It was a very long afternoon. Rachel’s friend has been murdered.”
After Euclid threw back his head and howled, they followed Angie into the kitchen where she made a cup of tea. “Where’s everyone else?” she asked the animals.
They trotted into the empty family room and over to the door to Mr. Finch’s apartment.
Holding her tea mug in one hand, Angie knocked on the doorframe of the open door.
“I’m here,” Finch called from inside.
Walking through the kitchen-dining room and crossing the living room, Angie headed to the cozy sunroom where Finch had his easel set up.
“Miss Angie,” he called to her. “Here I am.�
� He spun on his swivel stool to face her. “How are you? What an awful afternoon you’ve had. It was terrible news.”
The cats and the glittering dog jumped onto the small sofa.
Throughout the afternoon and early evening, Angie had sent texts to the family with information on the murder of Jessica Hanson.
Sinking into a chair, she leaned back against the soft cushion. “I sure wasn’t expecting to discover Jessica dead.” She filled in more details for Finch and answered his questions before asking, “Where is everyone?”
“Josh had something to tend to at the resort and he took Gigi with him. Miss Ellie is at the selectboard meeting and Miss Courtney is at the candy shop. They’ll be home soon. Did Jenna go home?”
Angie gave a nod. “Chief Martin dropped her off at her house.”
“How are you feeling? Can I get you something? We wrapped up a plate for you from dinner. Shall I warm it up?”
Angie smiled at the kind man. “I can do it. I don’t want to interrupt your painting.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I’d rather talk with you. Why don’t we go to the big kitchen so you can eat?” Finch stood and Angie was able to better see his painting.
“That’s beautiful. What a lovely scene.” She walked over to admire the man’s work. Finch had painted a cozy-looking farmhouse set on acres of trees and meadows with a field of pumpkins. Some of the leaves on the trees were just beginning to change colors.
“Have you seen this place?” Angie asked.
“No, I haven’t. At least, not to my knowledge. It just came into my mind when I picked up my brush to start a new painting.”
Something about the artwork pulled at Angie, and she stared at it letting her eyes roam over the canvas. “When did you start working on this?”
“The day after Rachel Princeton went missing.” Finch covered his paint palate and collected his brushes to bring them to the kitchen sink for cleaning. “I’ll just clean these off before we go to the main kitchen.”
Angie remained rooted in place still looking at the new painting. An art-lover, collector, and artist, Mr. Finch sometimes mysteriously drew or painted images that held clues to a case they were working on without knowing the significance until later.
