Purls and Poison

by Anne Canadeo

  But there was no mystery to Liza’s death. She’d obviously died of a heart attack. Or maybe a stroke.

  Suzanne wondered how soon the police would be able to tell and was about to ask Officer Zericky, when a tall man in a dark green barn coat walked through the door. He had an air of authority, even in street clothes. His sharp gaze quickly found Suzanne, dark eyes staring out from below bushy eyebrows.

  It was Maggie’s boyfriend, Charles Mossbacher, a detective with the Essex County Police Department. Suzanne felt instantly relieved to see a familiar face—serious expression and all.

  “Hello, Suzanne. I just saw Kevin outside. You’re the one who found the body?”

  “Yes, I did. She was a coworker. Liza Devereaux. It’s so awful. Such a shock. She wasn’t sick or anything. I mean, not that I knew of. I feel terrible about this, Charles. We never got along, but I never meant to . . . to hurt her. I never imagined she’d end up like this. . . .”

  Suzanne was rambling. Charles looked confused. “Hold on. You’ve had a shock. You just sit down and relax a few minutes. You can tell me all about it, very soon.”

  “Okay, Charles. Whatever you say.” Suzanne nodded obediently, then dabbed her nose with a tissue. “Can Kevin wait with me?”

  “No problem. Zericky, let the husband in,” Charles called out to the uniformed officer. Officer Zericky was talking to a man who had walked in behind Charles. He wore a khaki raincoat and carried a large black suitcase. Charles met his glance and nodded, then turned back to Suzanne.

  “The medical examiner is here. I’ll come as soon as we’re finished.”

  Suzanne watched him walk away. She hoped that he didn’t take too long looking over Liza’s office. What was there to see?

  But she had died alone and the police had strict rules and procedures to follow when that happened. Suzanne knew they had to close off the area, until they were certain that Liza had died from natural causes.

  She looked outside for Kevin and saw Officer Durbin stretching yellow tape around the storefront. POLICE LINE—DO NOT CROSS, the tape read. Until the medical examiner did his job, or maybe even until an autopsy, the police might not be certain of the cause of her death.

  Suzanne took a seat on a leather couch in the reception area. She had never sat there. It was odd, seeing the office from a customer’s point of view. A large gold plaque on the blond wood reception desk proclaimed the name of Prestige Properties in bold type. Suzanne had never noticed before that it was just painted plastic. The sign looked tacky and a bit worn in the harsh, fluorescent light. Not so bad in daylight . . . did it? She’d have to mention something to Harry.

  It was odd, the way your mind wandered in a crisis. Why was she even fretting about that?

  She couldn’t see Kevin outside and wondered what had happened to him. Officer Zericky stood just outside the door, recording the names of everyone who came in and out. Suddenly her husband appeared and rushed across the space to meet her.

  “Suzanne . . . are you all right?” Suzanne stood up and Kevin wrapped her in one of his famous bear hugs—famous in their family. She allowed herself to be enveloped and rested for a moment with her head against his broad shoulder, his beard brushing her cheek.

  “I’m okay, I guess. It’s been a rough night. A rough day followed by an even rougher night, actually,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

  He stared down at her, his expression puzzled. “Why did you come back? Did you forget something?”

  “I saw Liza’s car and I needed to talk to her. Something happened in a meeting today. It’s sort of a long story.”

  Kevin met her gaze. “Did you have another argument with her?”

  Suzanne nodded. She felt embarrassed now to admit her bad behavior. As if she was a little girl who had a history of acting out at school.

  “It was a doozy. The absolute worst yet. I never actually pulled her hair. Lyle caught me just in time.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes and groaned, but didn’t interrupt.

  “I know. You’ve seen better social skills in a preschool, right? I’m so ashamed,” she said sincerely. “I never thought she’d die. I mean, what if I killed her? What if she had a heart condition or high blood pressure, and I got her so upset, she just threw a clot or something?”

  Thinking back to that shocking moment, Suzanne felt her emotions carry her away again. Kevin rested his big hands on her shoulders, calming her down.

  “It’s okay, honey. Who could have ever predicted this? I bet the argument had nothing to do with it.”

  Suzanne glanced up at him, sure that he was just saying that to make her feel better. He took her hand and led her back to the couch. “Let’s sit down. Do you want some coffee or tea?”

  “Some tea might be nice. Something herbal, with no caffeine.” Suzanne felt chilled to the bone. Probably shock. She was sure she wouldn’t sleep a wink, caffeine free or not. A cup of tea might warm her up a bit.

  Kevin headed for the coffee station next to the reception desk.

  Suzanne silently wished him luck. The machine was finicky; the Alfa Romeo of coffeemakers. She’d always thought one needed an engineering degree to work it. She was sure it had cost Harry a fortune, but he’d told the staff it was important to present the right image to everyone walking into the office—one of luxury and success. He’d say, “It primes them to expect six-figure listings, and want to be part of the ‘inner circle.’ ”

  Harry was definitely in that circle, and a good salesman. A master, truly. He never seemed to work at it, either. It came so easily to him. He was rarely out in the field these days, practicing his magic powers, but he’d taught his sales team well, herself included. And Liza, of course, who had enjoyed the benefit of private lessons. Little good they did her now, Suzanne reflected.

  Kevin carried the hot drinks back to the couch and they sat side by side, his warmth and sheer size a comfort, as they sipped from their paper cups.

  “Harry will be crushed. He absolutely adored her . . . even after she dumped him. Maybe even more,” she said in a hushed tone.

  “I think he’ll be here soon. I heard the police call him.” Kevin blew at the foam in his cup. “Were he and Liza still an item?”

  “Not for a while. Who really knows?” Suzanne whispered back. “I do know he followed her around the office like a puppy and stared at her in meetings like he was in a trance.”

  “Maybe you should tell Charles.”

  Suzanne glanced at him. “Why?”

  Kevin shrugged and sipped his coffee. “Maybe he should know what went on here, under the radar.”

  Suzanne wasn’t sure about that. She didn’t want to get involved. The less you said to the police the better. Or they would be asking questions all night.

  “I hope Charles doesn’t take too long. What time is it?” Suzanne squinted at her watch, designed more for fashion than information.

  Kevin had his phone in hand. “A quarter to one. I sent a text to Alexis. I told her we’d be home soon.”

  Suzanne rarely lied to her children. But in this case, she thought it was the best choice. She’d explain what really happened tomorrow, when they were all together and could talk about it as a family. Kids generally took cues from their parents, and if she didn’t act rattled and upset, they wouldn’t be either. First, she had to get her own head together.

  “Maybe you should go home if this takes much longer. I’ll be okay.”

  Kevin looked shocked and even insulted by the suggestion. “I’m not going to leave you here. You just found a dead body. Someone you’ve known for a long time. You’ve had a shock, Suzanne. I don’t even think you should drive home. We’ll leave your car and get it tomorrow.”

  Suzanne didn’t think that precaution was necessary. She patted his hand. “Let’s see how it goes.”

  They both looked up and saw Charles emerge from the back of the office. He stood talking to Officer Zericky and another officer in plain clothes, who Suzanne guessed was Charles’s partner.

/>   An ambulance had pulled up outside, and the attendants had taken out a rolling stretcher but had not brought it back to collect the body. The sight made Suzanne feel sad, the reality of the situation hitting home again.

  Charles walked toward them and caught her gaze.

  “Good, here he comes. He’ll ask you a few questions and we can go,” Kevin said.

  “Hope so.” Suzanne took a last sip of her tea and set the cup aside.

  Charles greeted them with a brief smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting, folks. But we can’t rush these things. Haste always turns around and bites you later.”

  “We understand. Suzanne wants to help you as much as she can.” Kevin’s tone was utterly cooperative, but with an edge of eagerness to get the interview over with.

  “I’m sure she does. Why don’t you wait for her outside, Kevin? This won’t take long.”

  Kevin nodded at Charles, but looked surprised by the request. He glanced at Suzanne. She was too. Why couldn’t he sit with her for the questions? Was Charles afraid he might be a distraction? “Are you all right, honey?”

  “I’ll be fine. See you in a minute.” Suzanne summoned a positive note she did not honestly feel. She glanced back at Charles. “Right?”

  He sat down on the other end of the couch and took his pad out. “Absolutely. Some of these questions will be the same that Officer Zericky asked. But please bear with me. I need to be clear on a few points.”

  If there was one thing she hated it was repeating things she’d already said. Not to mention, things someone had written down word for word.

  She brushed aside her annoyance and tried to keep calm. Police had to be painstakingly methodical when someone was found dead. For some reason, she felt she owed it to Liza—and her family—to help figure out what had happened. It was the respectful thing to do.

  “So, you told Officer Zericky that you came in to the office because you saw Ms. Devereaux’s car and wanted to speak with her?”

  “That’s right. I had planned to come in early tomorrow.. . . Well, today, I mean,” she amended, remembering it was past midnight. “I wanted to talk to her about a business matter. But I saw her car and thought I’d get it over with.”

  “All right.” Charles made a few notes on his pad. The gesture seemed so . . . official. It was jarring. She thought of Charles as a friend.

  He’s here doing his job, she reminded herself. Not sent by Maggie as a comforting emissary. Of course he’s going to write down things that you say. There’s a woman in a cubicle a few yards away, stone cold dead. And you’re the one who found her. He has to make a full report.

  “What time did you get here? Did you notice?”

  “About eleven? A few minutes before, maybe. I checked the time because I was wondering if Kevin was still up at home. I parked behind her car, that white Mercedes.” Suzanne turned and pointed out to the street. “And I came in.”

  “All right.” He made more notes and then posed more questions, many the same as the uniformed officer had asked.

  She again described walking into Liza’s cubicle, seeing the lamp knocked over and Liza’s body on the floor. How she had tried to revive her, though it seemed hopeless.

  “Anything else that you recall?”

  Suzanne thought a moment. “Her pearl necklace was broken. She always wore it. She had it on today. But there are pearls all over the floor.”

  “Yes, we saw that.” Charles nodded and wrote some more. “Did you see anyone near the building? Or out on the street when you arrived?”

  “No one, honestly. You know how it is in Plum Harbor. We roll up the sidewalks early this time of year.”

  Summer was a different story. Main Street, the village green, and harbor were filled with people until late at night. Day-trippers who had tied up their boats at the town dock, spilled out of cafes and bars. There was often music in the gazebo, families and couples out for an evening stroll, walking dogs and eating ice cream cones.

  Once the cool weather set in and school was in session, the town grew quiet and empty, hunkering down for a winter sleep, Suzanne often thought.

  Charles nodded. “Quiet is a good thing. If you’re in my line of work. We don’t mind that.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Suzanne agreed.

  “How well did you know her?”

  The question was surprising. “Not that well. We’ve worked together a long time. But we weren’t friends.” She stopped there, not sure how much to elaborate. “Liza was pretty much all business. I don’t think anyone in the office was really friends with her. Except . . . well, no one really.”

  Charles’s expression grew interested. “Except? You were going to say something else, I think.”

  Suzanne sighed. “I don’t want to gossip. But everyone in the office knew that she and Harry Prentiss, our boss, had an affair. I’m pretty sure it’s been over for years. But if anyone knew her at all, it would have to be Harry.”

  Charles looked like he wanted to hear more. “Why did it end? Do you know?”

  “I can only tell you what I heard. Who knows if it’s true?” Suzanne prefaced. “Rumor has it that she left her husband for Harry, but when the time came, Harry wouldn’t leave his wife. So Liza broke things off.”

  She’d never minded gossiping about Liza before. But for some reason, she felt uncomfortable talking about her now.

  “When we spoke earlier, you said something like, ‘I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never imagined she’d end up like this.’ What did you mean by that, Suzanne?”

  He’d recalled her exact words. Impressive. Had he jotted that down on his pad? She couldn’t remember now.

  Suzanne swallowed a lump in her throat. She felt her eyes fill with tears and blinked. “It’s just that . . . the thing is . . . I had a fight with her in a meeting today. It got really nasty. We’ve had arguments in the office before . . . but this was bad. I totally lost it. I said some things I never should have said. To anybody. I feel so ashamed now. . . .” She took a breath and wiped her eyes. “That’s why I came back tonight. To apologize. And I was just thinking, after I found her . . . what if she got so upset that she had a heart attack? Or a stroke? I never liked her. We were always competing here and she’d pulled some nasty tricks on me over the years,” Suzanne explained. “But I never wanted her to die. . . . I mean, not really.”

  Her voice trailed off to a small squeak. She looked up at Charles again and wondered what he was thinking. It was hard to tell.

  “The cause of death is still unknown,” he said finally. “But I don’t think anyone has ever been accused of murder, or even manslaughter, simply because they argued with the victim earlier that day.”

  Was he laughing at her? Not at all. He was perfectly serious and trying to comfort her, in his way. “It’s only natural to have regrets if you left things on a bad note with the deceased,” he continued. “And, being the one to find her on top of it—that’s a lot to handle.”

  He glanced at his pad a moment, then snapped it closed. Suzanne was relieved to see that. “We may need to talk again, depending. But that’s all for tonight. Thanks for your help, Suzanne.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Suzanne stood up and picked up her purse. The ambulance attendants were finally wheeling in the stretcher and she noticed a gray plastic bag on top. The kind with a zipper.

  She quickly looked away and turned back to Charles. “So you have no clue at all how she died?”

  He slipped his notebook into the breast pocket of his coat. “Hard to say for sure right now. We do have an idea.”

  “You do?” Suzanne prodded.

  “No more questions. You’re just as bad as Maggie,” he added with the first smile of the night.

  “We’re all pretty bad that way, Charles,” she said, referring to her knitting gang. “I thought you knew that by now.”

  He shook his head, the smile fading as quickly as it had appeared. “Good night, Suzanne. I’ll see you around.”

  “Not in your offici
al capacity I hope,” she nearly replied. Instead, she gave a short wave and headed out to her husband. “See you, Charles. Take care.”

  As Suzanne left the building, Officer Durbin lifted the crime scene tape so she could slip under. Kevin waited for her on the sidewalk and insisted that he drive her home. Suzanne was too tired to argue.

  She saw Harry nearby, dressed in a tuxedo under a long tan topcoat. He stood talking to Charles and his partner. Harry’s back was turned and he didn’t see her.

  Just as well, Suzanne thought. I’m too tired to talk to anyone else tonight.

  Kevin slung his heavy arm around her shoulder and they walked in step across the street to his truck. “How are you doing, honey? Holding up? Why did that take so long? He must have asked you a million questions.”

  “Not really, but it felt like it. I told Charles about the argument, and how guilty I feel now. He said that was only normal, since I’d left things on a bad note with her. He seemed to think I’m just in shock from everything.”

  “Anyone would be, babe.” He pulled open the passenger side door for her and Suzanne climbed into the truck.

  As she fastened her seat belt, she noticed another van pull up and she quickly recognized the sign for the local news station, painted on the side. She knew that the vans followed the calls on the police radio and a prominent businesswoman, dying alone in her office for no apparent cause, was newsworthy. In this town, at least. She felt relieved that she and Kevin were leaving and wouldn’t be stopped by nosy reporters asking more questions.

  Kevin got in the driver’s side and started the truck. Just in the nick of time, she thought.

  “Let’s get home and get some sleep. That alarm clock is going to ring awfully early tomorrow,” he said.

  Suzanne knew that was true. Though she doubted she’d sleep a wink. Not after what she’d just been through.

  Liza’s frozen expression and unseeing eyes—Suzanne was sure that was all she would see tonight, if she even tried to close her own.

  Chapter 3

  Suzanne heard her phone buzz with text messages and roused herself from a deep sleep. The bedroom was dark and Kevin’s side of the bed, empty. She had no idea what time it was. As she fumbled for the phone on the bedside table, the events of last night flooded back.