Dead Tease

by Victoria Houston

  McNeil shook his head “no.”

  Lew sighed. “That’s not what I have heard from a credible source. One of your colleagues….”

  “All right, okay—Jennifer Williams.”

  Leigh gasped and pushed her chair back farther.

  “Had you ended that relationship?”

  “No.” McNeil’s voice was a whisper.

  “Did Dr. Daniels know about Jennifer?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I know she had nothing good to say about her.”

  The patio was very still. Only the sound of a distant cricket.

  “Do you know who killed Jennifer Williams?” asked Lew.

  “Oh my God no. I wish I did.”

  “Did you kill Jennifer Williams?”

  Leigh sucked in her breath.

  “No.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Half an hour before she left for home the other day. The night she was killed.”

  That was it for Leigh. Reaching for a glass of water on the table, she stood and hurled it at her husband. He ducked, but it bounced off his head and shattered on the patio cobblestones. Leigh turned and walked off without a word.

  “We’re finished here for the time being,” said Lew, getting to her feet.

  Before Lew and Osborne had reached Lew’s cruiser, the front door opened. Leigh was framed in the light of the foyer. “Here,” she said in a loud voice to the person behind her, “I’m throwing your travel kit in the front yard. You can get your clothes in the morning.”

  “Leigh, please,” they could hear Jim’s voice, “you’ll be alone. You need me—”

  “I need a goddamn lawyer is what I need. Get out!”

  “Let’s scoot, Lew—before we have another crime scene,” said Osborne, tugging on Lew’s sleeve.

  It was nearly four in the morning when Osborne reached to turn out the lamp on the night table. He turned to Lew. “Why on earth didn’t Jim McNeil tell us up front about Jennifer? What was he thinking?”

  “The man’s been lucky too long,” said Lew. “I’m sure he’s lied to his wife their entire marriage. From what we’ve learned about Jennifer, with the exception of her close friendship with Kerry Schultz she was pretty much of a loner. I imagine he thought she kept their relationship a secret. He was hoping to get away with it.”

  “How did he keep it from his wife?”

  “Oh, Doc, we are all guilty of seeing only what we want to see. Those two lead parallel lives. I imagine the intimacy of friendship has been missing from that marriage for a long time.”

  Osborne thought that over. She was right of course. He had been there himself: there are times when confronting reality can be too much to bear.

  One goodnight kiss later, Dr. Paul Osborne and Loon Lake Police Chief Lewellyn Ferris were sound asleep.

  Down near Osborne’s dock, a mother duck guided her brood toward the overhanging boughs of a white pine and tucked her head under one wing. The little ones did the same. Over at the McNeils waves lapped lightly under the boathouse. A pink stain colored the sand along the shoreline.

  In the Daniels mansion, Gladys lay in bed: eyes wide open.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Late Monday afternoon Bruce poked his head through the doorway to Lew’s office. “Got some reports in, Chief. Do you have a minute?”

  “I do,” said Lew, pushing aside the letter she had been studying. It was from Chet Tillman asking her to sign off on the city’s agreement for her retirement: benefit details, termination date.

  The mayor had set a deadline for her to sign and return the agreement by the end of the month, not quite two weeks away. Lew resisted the urge to sign off and be done with it. That was the easy way out. That was something a girl would do.

  Setting her jaw, Lew decided to complete the investigation into Jennifer Williams’s death—then concentrate on how to fight city hall. She’d done it before and won.

  “Okay, what have we got?” said Lew with a welcoming wave. Bruce loped through the door, took a seat in front of Lew’s desk, and, crossing his right leg over his left knee, he opened the first of three files.

  “The autopsy report on Jennifer Williams doesn’t offer much. She died of a stab wound that pierced her heart. No defense wounds, no trace evidence—just clean-cut edges with no bruising. We’re assuming the victim was caught by surprise.”

  “What about the knife wound? Any defining characteristics?” asked Lew.

  “No, sorry. The exact details of the wound are in here,” said Bruce, handing over a manila file. “As I expected, it’s not possible to confirm that the knife you found was used to inflict the wound.”

  “Okay,” said Lew, “what’s next?”

  “The accident in the boathouse. I’m sure the insurance company will send their own investigator, but I took a good look and I can tell you what I think happened.”

  “Thanks, Bruce. I’ll arrange for the department to pay for your time. We’ll call it ‘death under suspicious circumstances.’”

  “Only if it’s easy, Chief. I know you’re under a lot of pressure.”

  “You heard, huh?”

  “Doc mentioned something to Ray.”

  “Well, we’ll see how it goes. Tell me what you found.”

  “My best guess—and it’s a good one—is the woman was wearing a beach-type dress, kind of long and flowing. No underwear, no swimsuit. The dress appeared to have snagged on the lift gears as she was climbing into the boat and in trying to yank it loose, she accidentally tripped the ‘On’ switch. Happened in an instant: the force pulling her into the gears was relentless. That boatlift is designed to hold heavy boats thirty feet long. It does not ask questions.”

  “Whew,” said Lew. “Hell of a way to go.”

  “One thing you need to know—I had a call this morning from the crime lab. The victim’s mother is insisting on an autopsy and a criminal investigation. She is insisting her daughter was pushed.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I see no sign of foul play. That would assume premeditation, and I don’t see how that could fit with the sequence of events. But …” said Bruce with one of his signature blinks, “her allegation may make it easy for you to cover my time.”

  He opened the third file with a smile of satisfaction, “The good news is—and I leaned on a buddy of mine to rush the DNA analysis through for no cost so long as I promise to take him out on the Rainbow Flowage next time I’m up north—the blood on the broken glass found in the McNeils’ basement laundry room belonged to Cynthia Daniels.

  “And that,” he said with a waggle of his right index finger, “is not all. The footprint in the mud on the clothes dryer is a match to the pattern on the bottom of one of Dr. Daniels’s running shoes. Same for the footprints outside the kitchen window night before last: exact matches. I even have some of the dirt from the bottom of the shoes being analyzed to see if it matches the mix of soil and mulch on the McNeil property.”

  “So we can tie Cynthia Daniels to the stalking of McNeil’s wife but not to the death of Jennifer Williams. No link there—correct?”

  “Not that I have found. I’ve initiated a search of Dr. Daniels’s home and office but nothing yet. I will say that mother of hers is a hawk. When I went into the cottage where Cynthia Daniels has been living, back behind the family’s big house—she tried to follow me in. I made her stay behind the police tape but she never took an eye off me. That old woman is fierce.”

  A knock on the door caused Bruce and Lew to look up at Dani, who started into the room, an open laptop braced on one arm. “Chief Ferris, I found something you might find interesting—”

  “Pertinent to the Jennifer Williams case?” asked Lew.

  “No, but—”

  “Later, Dani, I’m busy with crime lab reports right now. I’ll get back to you.”

  “But—”

  “Dani, you heard me. I’ll get back to you when I have the time.”

  Bruce got to his feet. �
�That’s everything I got so far. You locate that Marski guy yet?”

  “No,” said Lew. “His probation officer called this morning to say he’s still missing. If he doesn’t show soon, he’ll be looking at an extended sentence. Meantime, I’ve got Dani e-mailing his photo to every convenience store in a four-state region: the guy is bound to run out of cigarettes.

  “The only other major development I’ve had is that Doc checked with the clinic staff late this morning and it appears that Cynthia Daniels’s absences from the clinic—whether she was on call or not—coincide with the hours during which an intruder was spotted in or near the McNeil home. At least I’ve got that one solved,” said Lew with a weak smile.

  “Hey, Chief, in my book—you’re doing great. Day off tomorrow?”

  “Day off or die,” said Lew with a wide grin.

  “Isn’t that the Wisconsin state slogan?” Bruce chuckled at his own joke.

  After Bruce left, Lew braced her elbows on the desk and stared down at the reports that he had delivered. She sat there thinking, not reading. Finally she picked up the phone and dialed Dani’s extension. “Would you come in here a moment?” asked Lew.

  The girl appeared so fast Lew was startled. “Okay, Chief, you ready for me to show you this?” asked Dani, her eyes eager as she held out her open laptop.

  “Not that, not yet, I don’t have time for that right now—but I have something I’d like you to get on right away, please. Here’s the phone number for Dr. Daniels’s secretary, Brenda,” said Lew, handing her a slip of paper and ignoring the disappointment in Dani’s eyes. “I’d like you to call her ASAP and ask her to forward to you any e-mails that Dr. Cynthia Daniels may have sent to Jennifer Williams.”

  “Okay,” said Dani. “Is this legal?”

  Lew sighed. “If she gives you any trouble, I’ll have to get a warrant. But I suspect she’ll be happy to share anything that shows Dr. Daniels in a bad light. One other reason for her to cooperate is that I doubt she wants her superiors in the clinic to know that she saved those e-mails.”

  “Right,” said Dani. “I see what you mean. Chief Ferris, I have another suggestion. Should I ask if she has e-mails that Dr. Daniels may have sent to other parties about Jennifer Williams?”

  “Good idea. What I’m looking for is any evidence linking Cynthia Daniels directly to the victim. Right now all we know is that people working around those two women were aware that Dr. Daniels disliked Jennifer. But not liking someone is very different from taking their life.”

  Now the hard part, thought Lew once Dani had left her office. She picked up the keys to her squad car and told Marlaine where the switchboard could find her. “I’ll be gone for an hour at least,” she said.

  Bonnie Williams was waiting at her front door. “Chief Ferris, please come in. Thank you for calling ahead,” she said. “Have you found the person who—”

  “No,” said Lew, “but we’re close. I, um, you and I need to talk. May I sit down?”

  “Of course.” Bonnie gestured toward a sofa that stood along one wall of the small living room. She took the rocking chair, which was at one end. Judging from the worn cushion, Lew could tell it was her favorite chair. And it faced a large screen TV that anchored the room.

  Catching Lew’s glance at the television, Bonnie said, “Pretty big for the room, I know. Jennifer bought it for my birthday. She loved to come over and watch American Idol with me.”

  “Nice,” said Lew as she sat forward on the sofa. She dropped her head for a long moment, debating where to start. She looked up and plunged in.

  “First, you’ll be relieved to hear that the crime lab has released Jennifer’s body and it should arrive at the funeral home late this afternoon.”

  “Okay,” said Bonnie. “I appreciate knowing that. My sister has been helping me with the arrangements.”

  Lew tried not to let the mention of the sister, Chet Tillman’s wife, distract her from the difficult news she had to deliver. “Bonnie, I am afraid that what I have to tell you may be very upsetting—”

  “Chief Ferris, Kerry Schultz came by this morning and told me. She felt that as Jennifer’s best friend, she should be the one to tell me the … the details.” When Bonnie stumbled over her words, Lew knew she was referring to the affair between Jennifer and McNeil, which would have been news to her.

  “So, ah,” Bonnie sighed heavily as she spoke, “when Kerry heard that Cynthia Daniels was killed in that accident at the McNeil house, she figured that my daughter’s relationship with Mr. McNeil would have to become public.” Bonnie paused, then said, “Kerry is convinced that Dr. Daniels was jealous and killed Jennifer.”

  “Hold on,” said Lew. “Please don’t jump to that conclusion. And I apologize—I didn’t realize that the EMTs removing Dr. Daniels’s body would have shared the news of the tragedy with Kerry and the other staff in the clinic’s ER. I understand Kerry’s reason for telling you, but it is confidential information. At this time, we have no evidence linking Dr. Daniels to your daughter’s death,” said Lew. “Yes, she was jealous. But is she guilty of murder? Bonnie, I am so sorry but we do not know that for a fact.

  “I can imagine how you must feel but—”

  “No, you cannot imagine how I feel,” said Bonnie, her face turning red as she gripped both arms of the rocking chair. “You can have no idea how I feel. First I lose my daughter, now I find she was having an affair with her boss? My Jennifer was a good girl. A good …” Bonnie’s hand flew to her mouth but the gesture was hopeless.

  The woman broke into sobs. Getting up, Lew walked over to the rocking chair where Bonnie sat hunched over, her shoulders shaking. Lew knelt to put her arms around Bonnie. She held her until the shaking eased.

  “Bonnie,” said Lew, murmuring in her ear. “None of us gets through life without making mistakes. Who is to say what went on between your daughter and Jim McNeil? He may have promised to leave his wife for her. There may have been something honest and deep and wonderful between them. We don’t know Jennifer’s side of the situation, and that makes it unfair for any of us to pass judgment.”

  “My Jen was so young,” said Bonnie through tears. “He took advantage of her. Excuse me while I find a Kleenex.”

  She got up, left the room for a minute, and returned with a box of tissues. Lew sat quiet on the sofa until Bonnie had composed herself.

  “You’re right, of course,” said Bonnie. “I’m just thinking … well, I’m deeply embarrassed for myself and for Jennifer. Everyone will know. That’s what I hate. They’ll think so much less of my little girl.” She broke down again. Again Lew waited.

  “All right, Bonnie,” said Lew. “I am going to share some information in confidence. Can I trust you to keep these details to yourself until there is an official release of the circumstances surrounding the accidental death of Cynthia Daniels?”

  After pressing several Kleenex to her eyes, Bonnie nodded. Lew offered a more detailed description of Cynthia’s stalking of the McNeil home. When she had finished, Bonnie sat straighter in her chair: surely the news of Cynthia Daniels’s obsessive actions would overshadow anything her daughter had done.

  “So you aren’t alone, Bonnie,” said Lew. “Think how Gladys Daniels must feel.”

  Bonnie wiped away a tear. “At least my Jennifer is not guilty of a crime. An affair with a married man, yes, but she didn’t hurt anyone. Physically, I mean.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Lew, choosing not to mention that Jim McNeil’s wife might not feel too kindly toward Jennifer.

  “The stalking. I can’t believe a physician behaving like that—how awful.”

  “Gladys will be receiving some harsh news,” said Lew. “It won’t be easy for her. Nor is it for you. But that’s why, given what we know of Cynthia’s actions over the past few months, I need to ask if you are aware of any meetings or phone calls or communications of any sort that Jennifer may have had with Cynthia Daniels—inside or outside the clinic?”

  “Not that I can t
hink of,” said Bonnie. “Is it important?”

  “Could be,” said Lew. “If you come across anything, please call me right away. Here’s my card with my cell phone number.”

  As she left Bonnie’s home and walked toward her police cruiser the strange parallels between the two widows struck her: both had lost their husbands, now both lost daughters who—just days ago—were young women of such promise. And for both Bonnie and Gladys the circumstances surrounding the loss of their children were so grim.

  Back at her desk, Lew was pleased to find a memo from Dani with copies of two e-mails attached. She had been able to reach Brenda at her new position, and Brenda was more than happy to forward the only two e-mails that Dr. Cynthia Daniels had sent to Jennifer Williams.

  The first was a response to Jennifer trying to set up a photo shoot in the emergency room. All it contained were times that Dr. Daniels would be available. That e-mail was sent in March.

  The second e-mail, sent in July, was more to the point: “Bitch, you don’t know what you’re getting into. Leave Jim McNeil alone. He’s mine. Keep it up and you’ll find yourself without a job.” It was unsigned.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After an early morning round of verbal wrangling, Osborne was able to persuade Lew to take the day off: “We promised Ray we would try the fishing kayaks. He’s counting on us—”

  “He’s got Bruce, Doc. He doesn’t need me.”

  “I need you. Please, Lewellyn, do not abandon me to the shenanigans of those two. You deserve a break—you have been going full tilt since last Tuesday. Even the good Lord gets a day off.”

  “Okay, but on one condition—I log two hours in my office this morning. If I can make a tiny dent in the paperwork from the Wausau Crime Lab, I’ll be able to relax.”

  “Deal. I’ll pick you up at ten A.M. sharp.”

  Lew was waiting in the parking lot with her rod case, gear bag, a happy look on her face—and no uniform. She had changed into her fly fishing shirt, sleeves rolled up, and khaki shorts. “We’re kayaking the river, right?” she asked as she climbed into Osborne’s Subaru.