Death Changes Everything

by Linda Crowder

  “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 Coron
er 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.”

  Her mouth closed, and she took a ragged breath. She rubbed at her face with the back of her hand, further smearing the mascara. At least the feral look had faded from her eyes. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I knew as soon as I…saw him.” Her body shook.

  “Maddie, honey,” said the neighbor, “I’m gonna let you to talk to the Detective. You give a yell if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Connie. I’m sorry to fall apart on you like this.”

  “Honey, don’t you even think about that right now.” She gave Mrs. Hill’s shoulders a quick squeeze and left the room.

  “Mrs. Hill…” began Matt.

  “Maddie,” she broke in, her eyes not meeting his gaze. Her hand shook and she covered it with her other hand. “Everyone calls me Maddie.”

  “I know this will be hard, but I have to ask you a few questions. You were out with friends this morning?”

  “Y-yes. I went sh-shopping, then I met my friends…for lunch.” She twisted a fringe on her purse, her eyes distant. Matt had interviewed enough distraught family members to know he needed to give her time to tell her story in her own way. When she continued, her voice was barely a whisper. “I came home and found Steven…blood everywhere…”

  “Was the door locked?”

  Maddie blinked several times and tried to focus her eyes on Matt. “We don’t lock the doors.”

  “Did you notice anything out of place?”

  She shook her head. “No. Nothing. Everything was…just…normal.”

  “Did your husband have enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt him?”

  “He was my whole life.” She put her head in her hands and started to sob again. “What am I gonna do?”

  Hearing Maddie, Connie came back in the room. “Are you okay, honey? Detective, couldn’t you do this another time?”

  “Of course.” Matt put his card on the table beside Maddie and pulled Connie aside. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Could I speak to you privately?”

  She looked at Maddie, who was oblivious to them, then nodded and led him into the living room. “How can I help?”

  “You called in the report?”

  “Yes. We were watching television when we heard Maddie screaming.”

  “We?”

  “My son, Tyler. He let you in. Of course, we ran out to see what was wrong. Poor thing was just standing in her front yard, wailing like a banshee. Never heard anything like it. Whole neighborhood came out. She just kept screaming, He’s dead! He’s dead!”

  “Did you hear a gunshot?”

  “We were watching one of those awful movies Ty likes. All gangsters and thugs. There was so much shooting on TV, I wouldn’t have known the difference.”

  “Did you go inside the Hill house?”

  “Gracious, no! Mr. Wilson did, though. He lives next door to them. Came out shaking like a leaf and told me to call the police. The way he practically fell down on the top step, I thought he was gonna faint.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “I told Ty to stay with him, you know, in case he had a stroke or something?” She shook her head and frowned. “Course everyone else was useless. Just stood around gawkin’ at Maddie. I told ‘em to clear out if they weren’t gonna do anything, then I brought her home with me and called the police.”

  “Tyler was back home by the time I got here.”

  “He came home soon as the police got here. Said the whole thing creeped him out.”

  “How long have you known the Hills?”

  “Forever. They were here when we moved in back when Ty was a baby.”

  “Would you say they had a happy marriage?”

  “We didn’t socialize, Detective. We weren’t in the same circles. Really, this may be the first time Maddie’s been in my house.”

  “I’d like to talk to your son.”

  “I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  She left the room and returned with Tyler. He had an MP3 player in his hand, with one ear bud hanging loose and the other still in his ear. “Yeah?” His mother poked his arm. “What do
you want?”

  “Tyler, did Mr. Wilson say anything to you while you waited for the police?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you hear any gunshots before Mrs. Hill started screaming?”

  “Nah.”

  “Did you ever hear the Hills argue? Did they seem happy to you?”

  “Dude, they’re old. Like I care.”

  “Tyler! Detective, I’m so sorry.” Connie gave her son a smack on the back of his head. “You mind your manners.”

  Matt excused himself and went back across the street to where Altrez stood in the driveway. “Wilson have anything to say?”

  “Might once he stops throwing up. Had to call an ambulance. Paramedics took him right before you got here.”

  “Can you ask dispatch to see if he’s still there?”

  Altrez nodded and spoke into the radio on his shoulder. The answer came back affirmative. “You heading over there?”

  “May as well. Widow’s too upset to give me anything. Keep me posted if the neighbors have anything worth hearing.”

  ***

  A cruiser was parked in the hospital’s lone police spot, so Matt tried his luck in the parking garage. The hospital had added another floor of parking as part of a recent expansion, but it was still a challenge to find a spot during visiting hours. He circled up the ramp, floor by floor, finally securing a spot at the very top.

  Trudging down the stairs and across a covered walkway, he stopped at the information desk to see if Wilson was still in the emergency room. “Are you family?” asked the young woman at the desk.

  Matt pulled his badge out of his pocket and showed it to her. “Police. I need to speak with Mr. Wilson.”

  She took the badge and studied it carefully, giving him a look that made Matt think she might harbor unpleasant memories of the police. “I’m not s’posed to tell anybody but family.”

  “Krystal, is it?” asked Matt, reading her employee badge. “I’ve got a dead body in a house not too far from here. Mr. Wilson is a witness and I am going to speak to him. You can tell me if he’s still at the hospital and where I can find him, or I can speak to your supervisor about it.”