Lou Lou said, eyeing Elizabeth over the top of the newspaper, “As if you weren’t crying in your pillow because John wasn’t around.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I don’t know about the crying part, but I’ll admit seeing him again didn’t set him back any.”
And why should it? Mary Lisa thought. “Okay, you guys, you’ve got ten minutes to get dressed, then we’re out of here.”
THE three women arrived at Marci Maynard’s house as the sun was burning away the lacy gray morning fog. Mary Lisa rang the doorbell.
They heard a dog barking, but no one appeared at the door.
After several more fruitless tries, Elizabeth said, “Any ideas, Mary Lisa?”
“Why, yes. We can go see Mick.”
He wasn’t in his shop, not a surprise since it was Saturday morning, but his assistant manager, Hop Clooney, was there, looking older than the antique Corvette hubcaps displayed on the walls. “Well, now, it seems Mick caught a tetch of something, sounded pretty putrid when he called me a couple hours ago. Meybe he’ll be back tomorrow. Better be-I need him to work on that big Caddy back there.” He shrugged. “I see you’re driving a rental from the airport. What’s the problem with it?”
“Not a thing, Hop, we’re trying to locate Mick. Thanks for the info.”
“So we can go to his house,” Mary Lisa said as they walked out of the shop. She went into Buckman’s Pharmacy, borrowed Mr. Clive’s phone book, and looked up Mick Maynard’s address.
Mick Maynard’s repair shop might have appealed to car aficionados, but his home looked like all it needed was a banged-up car set on bricks to finish off the ratty front yard. It sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, Martindale Lane, backed up against a hillock, hidden by pine and hemlock trees. The nearest neighbor was a good block away.
Elizabeth looked at the rusted machinery parts strewn around the car, unable to identify them, and said, “If I were a guy and I managed to snag a woman for some hankypanky, I’d for sure go to her house, not here. I wouldn’t think seeing this dump site would be a positive first step toward a meaningful relationship.”
Lou Lou and Mary Lisa laughed. Mary Lisa said, “It is pretty bad, isn’t it? One thing you gotta say about it, though-lots of privacy.”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth said slowly, “this guy could do about anything he wanted to out here.”
There was an old banged-up Chevy truck sitting next to a well-kept Camry in the driveway, a clean, bright blue. Marci’s car? Very likely. “I guess Marci doesn’t mind the hoedown front yard since she’s here. I wonder if she spent the night.”
Lou Lou said, “That’s why Mick called in with the putrid throat. Morning sex.”
“That seems pretty cold,” Elizabeth said, “what with her mother sedated in bed, suspected of murdering her father.”
They walked up the weed-infested path to the front of the 1940s bungalow. It was a single story with a small footprint, probably considered quaint and charming thirty years ago, but tired and run-down now, in need of fresh flowers and paint. The draperies were drawn over the wide front window and the two narrow windows beside it. Mary Lisa marched up to the front door and banged loudly.
She banged again, at least half a dozen times.
Finally they heard a shout. “Hey, what do you want? Go away!”
Lou Lou murmured, “He sounds a bit testy.”
Mary Lisa pounded some more. “Let him.”
The door flew back. Mick Maynard stood in the doorway, his jeans looking like he’d just pulled them on, the zipper halfway up, the button at the waist unfastened. He wasn’t wearing jockeys or anything else under the jeans, just his muscular body, a bit of black chest hair, and a thick morning beard. He scratched his belly, drawing their eyes down to his fingers, and slowly, let a grin-no, a smirk-replace his pissed-off look. “Well, ladies, to what do I owe this pleasure? Are you from the PTA, here for a contribution? Or maybe you’re a very late welcome wagon?”
“I’m Mary Lisa Beverly. Hop said you called in sounding all putrid. You’re some fast healer.”
The smirk was in full bloom. “To get better, all one needs is proper motivation.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true. We’re here to see Marci. Is she here?”
“Oh yeah, I know who you are-Little Miss Soap Opera Star. Why do you want to speak to her? What the hell do you have to do with anything? Where’s the police chief?” He stepped out on the front porch and glanced around, stepped back. “Just you three little piggies here to see the big bad wolf?” He laughed. “No, I guess that’s Jack, isn’t it?” He turned, shouted, “Marci, we’ve got some ladies from the Junior League here who want to interrogate you.” Then, suddenly, he twisted back to them, and without another word, he slammed the door in their faces. They heard it lock. Mary Lisa would swear she heard him laugh.
“Well,” Lou Lou said to the dump of a yard, “at least he has very nice abs, don’t you think?”
Mary Lisa kicked at a hubcap next to the overgrown path. “This doesn’t happen in the movies.”
Elizabeth said, “It’s too bad we’re civilians, so we can’t exactly cuff him or force our way in. What do we do now, Mary Lisa?”
“Well, there’s still Olivia Hildebrand. I really do want to talk to her about my mother.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Elizabeth said.
The Hildebrand house was a pale yellow gem set in an upper-middle-class neighborhood with wide yards, well maintained and lovingly tended. Deputy Susan Randall opened the door on the first knock. “Mary Lisa! What are you doing here?” She stared around Mary Lisa at Elizabeth and Lou Lou.
“Hi, Susan.” Mary Lisa quickly introduced Susan to Lou Lou and Elizabeth. “Do you think it’s possible for us to speak to Mrs. Hildebrand for a couple of minutes?”
“Well, I don’t know, Mary Lisa. I mean, the chief didn’t say anything about your coming-”
“She and my mom are so very close, Susan, you know that. I mean, my mom visited her last night, right? I wanted to check on her, you know, see how she’s feeling.”
Elizabeth gently and slowly pushed forward, making Deputy Randall back up. “I know it’s a huge favor, but Mary Lisa really is worried about her mother. She’s been going through all this with her, as you know.”
“Well, yeah, I guess it’d be all right. But not long, okay? She still might be asleep. She hasn’t come down yet.”
Mary Lisa realized she’d never before been in the Hildebrand house. Through all the years, Olivia had always been the one to visit her mother. They stopped in the middle of the large entryway with a skylight two stories overhead.
Mary Lisa supposed she was upstairs in the master bedroom. Without asking, they all headed for the main staircase and took them up two at a time.
She looked down at Deputy Randall, who was standing next to another female deputy Mary Lisa recognized but didn’t know. She smiled at both of them, gave a little wave. Then she knocked lightly on the door, and opened it.
She wished she hadn’t.
FIFTY-SIX
No one screamed. They stood in the doorway, staring at Olivia Hildebrand hanging from one of the beautifully painted oak ceiling beams, a vanity chair on its side beneath her.
Mary Lisa ran to her and lifted her by her thighs as best she could to relieve the awful pressure twisting her neck. She wasn’t going to let her die. She heaved the woman up, felt the taut rope ease. “Lou Lou, Elizabeth, quick, help me get her down. Hurry!”
Elizabeth turned over the chair Mrs. Hildebrand had stood on and then had kicked away, and climbed up on it. “No, I still can’t reach the knot.” She felt for a pulse in Mrs. Hildebrand’s throat, knowing there wouldn’t be one. Elizabeth hadn’t seen violent death since she’d covered a bank robbery in Venice Beach nearly a year before, but she knew that, now as then, this human being was dead and there was nothing to do for her except to help protect her dignity. Her throat felt dry and cool, too cool. She looked at Mary Lisa’s set face, her arms still
around Mrs. Hildebrand’s legs, and back at Lou Lou, who seemed frozen, her eyes filled with horror. “I’m sorry, guys, she’s dead. Her skin’s chilled. She’s been dead a long time.” She climbed back down, laid her hand lightly on Mary Lisa’s shoulder, but Mary Lisa was shaking her head.
“No, she can’t be dead. Cut her down, Elizabeth, please cut her down. She’s hurt bad, I know she’s hurt real bad. Hurry, please, hurry, she’s heavy and I don’t know how much longer Lou Lou and I can hold her up. Lou Lou, help me.”
“No, Mary Lisa, Lou Lou,” Elizabeth said, her hand on their shoulders, “we can’t touch her. Even if I could cut her down, I know that it’s the wrong thing to do. This is a crime scene now and we don’t want to touch anything. I’m sorry, but you have to let her go. That’s right, Lou Lou, call Jack, then call 911. And get the deputies downstairs.”
Lou Lou raced out of the bedroom, her cell in her hand.
Mary Lisa still held Mrs. Hildebrand. Tears were streaming down her face. “I can’t let her go, Elizabeth. Don’t you see? The pain would be so bad if I let her loose. I can’t.”
They heard Lou Lou yelling for the deputies outside, and then they heard her on her cell phone.
“Please, Elizabeth, cut her down. She’s heavy. I don’t know how much longer I can hold her up. I can’t let go, Elizabeth, she’ll break her neck if I let go. Please, Elizabeth.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t. The forensic team needs to study everything so they can figure out exactly what happened. If we move her, then they can’t figure things out. Do you understand?”
Mary Lisa nodded, her forehead against Mrs. Hildebrand’s leg. “But-”
“I know, Mary Lisa, I know. I’ll tell you what, we’ll both hold her up until help arrives.”
Jack got there incredibly fast, a bit ahead of the paramedics. They heard him running flat out up the stairs. When he hit the bedroom doorway, he saw Elizabeth and Mary Lisa holding Mrs. Hildebrand’s body up, Lou Lou and his two deputies standing beside them. Why were they holding her up? It was clear Mrs. Hildebrand’s neck was broken, she was dead. He started to say something, but Elizabeth caught his eye and shook her head. He took in what was happening, that it was Mary Lisa who couldn’t deal with the reality that Mrs. Hildebrand was violently, horribly dead, couldn’t accept that she was helpless to change it. Jack had seen perhaps half a dozen people hanged over the years, most of them suicides, and not all of them well done. It was a violent, ugly death-the bulging, reddened eyes, the tongue thick and swollen, thrust partially out of her half-open mouth. Dear God, and it was Mary Lisa holding up that body.
The paramedics crowded behind him. He shook his head at them and walked to Mary Lisa and Elizabeth. He said, “Mary Lisa, you and Elizabeth have done a very good job. Now it’s time for you to come away. It’s time for you to let me take care of Mrs. Hildebrand. All right?”
Mary Lisa stared up at him. “But Jack, I can’t let her down. If I do-”
Elizabeth closed her eyes a moment. “Jack’s here now, Mary Lisa, and the paramedics. They can cut her down. Come along now, sweetheart, we have to let them do their job.”
Jack nodded three paramedics over. “I want you to hold up Mrs. Hildebrand, all right?”
They realized what was happening and silently nodded. When the three of them had taken over, Jack took Mary Lisa’s hand and led her to the bedroom door. Lou Lou stood with them in the doorway, her eyes on Mary Lisa. He said to Elizabeth, “Please take Mary Lisa and Lou Lou downstairs to the living room. Wait there for me, all right? I’ll call John. He needs to get over here as well.”
His words gave Elizabeth the focus she needed. She nodded. “Yes, don’t worry about us, Jack. We’ll take care of Mary Lisa. We’ll wait for you.” She led Lou Lou and Mary Lisa down the wide staircase toward the open front door, where paramedics and policemen were still streaming in. Elizabeth kept Mary Lisa and Lou Lou headed directly for the living room. “That’s it, we’ll go in here. This isn’t the time to talk to these people. They’re here to take care of Mrs. Hildebrand.” They sat down on the sofa and huddled together, content to say nothing. Elizabeth hoped John would arrive soon.
Upstairs, Jack motioned Deputy Randall out of the bedroom. She didn’t look well and he couldn’t blame her.
“This can’t be happening, Chief. It can’t-” Her face grew pale, and she swallowed hard, turned, and raced down the hall toward the bathroom. Jack hoped she made it in time.
He and the forensic team went about their business. They started with dozens of photos. The M.E., Dr. Washington Hughes, arrived and spent about ten minutes examining the body in situ. He bagged Mrs. Hildebrand’s hands to preserve any traces of rope fibers on her palms or beneath her fingernails. Finally, they cut the body down. Soon after John arrived, the paramedics wheeled her out of the house to the morgue.
Dr. Hughes held up the rope. “Okay, Chief, as a preliminary, the body showed all the stigmata of hanging, you know that. Death occurred about six hours ago, give or take. It looks like a classic suicide. She got ahold of this rope, climbed up on this chair, flipped the rope over the beam, then tied it around her neck, and kicked away the chair.”
“Yes, that’s how it looks.”
“I’ll get started on the autopsy right away.”
Jack nodded. “It seems she got up sometime during the night, went out to the garage where she had this handy rope lying around, or she planned it and had the rope in here beforehand.”
“I don’t keep heavy-duty rope like that in my garage,” one of the techs said.
“It could be that she planned it long ago,” said John. “Rope’s not hard to find.”
Jack asked John to see to Mary Lisa, and tried to stay focused on his job. He watched his team dust the surfaces in the bedroom for fingerprints. He himself examined the window, the sill. He climbed out the window, saw it was an easy step up onto the roof and over to the edge where there was an emergency ladder to the ground. No problem at all for anyone to go up or down, Mrs. Hildebrand included. The garage was tucked around in the back, not a dozen feet from the ladder.
Back in the hallway, he ran into Deputy Randall again, looking surprisingly calm. He smiled down at her. “You’re doing very well, Deputy. Can you tell me who came to see Mrs. Hildebrand last night?”
Her hands shaking, which she hated, Deputy Susan Randall opened her notebook and read aloud, pleased her voice didn’t shake. “Mrs. Beverly came by last evening at eight o’clock. Mrs. Hildebrand’s daughter, Marci, came at nine-thirty, right after Mrs. Beverly left, and stayed an hour.” Deputy Randall cleared her throat. “I didn’t hear any arguing, no raised voices.” She shut her notebook. “No one else came by, Chief. I personally spoke to Mrs. Hildebrand at about ten o’clock, asked her if I could get her anything. She said no, she was tired and she wanted to sleep. She asked not to be disturbed, said she was going to take another sleeping pill, maybe sleep late. So I said good night and closed her bedroom door. Then Lucy and I shut up the house, set the alarm at about midnight. I went upstairs to check on Mrs. Hildebrand and she was sleeping soundly, at least it looked that way.
“When Lucy and I knocked on her door about eight o’clock this morning and there was no answer, we didn’t go in. We decided to leave her alone, let the poor woman sleep.” She paused, ran her tongue over her dry mouth. “Only she wasn’t asleep.”
Jack laid his hand on her shoulder, to comfort her a bit, he hoped. “I know this is tough, Deputy. Was there anything else?”
“No, we didn’t check on her again. When Mary Lisa and her friends arrived, we waved them up. I wasn’t worried, I really wasn’t. Why not let Mary Lisa speak to her? And they found her. Oh dear God, I’ll never forget Mary Lisa trying to get Mrs. Hildebrand to wake up, trying to convince everyone that she’d be all right.”
She looked ready to crumble again, and Jack now took her hands and squeezed them between his. “You’re doing great. So there was nothing at all to alert you or Lucy during the n
ight?”
She screwed up her face in concentration, but in the end, she had to shake her head. “No, we didn’t hear any unusual noises during the night. The house creaks, but all older houses do.”
“You got no impression when you spoke to her last evening that Mrs. Hildebrand was unusually depressed or worried, pick up on anything unusual that could explain her suicide?”
“She had a great deal to be very sad about, we all know that. But I didn’t expect this of her, Chief.”
He arched an eyebrow at her.
“My grandfather killed himself. With him I knew something was terribly wrong, it was like he was waving a red flag for several days before he stuck a gun in his mouth. I didn’t sense that from Mrs. Hildebrand.” She drew in a deep breath. “I can’t believe she managed to do this, Chief.”
He patted her arm. “Thank you, Susan. Take Lucy back to the station. I’ll speak to her later. Keep a lid on this, all right?”
Jack stepped back into the bedroom and looked around one last time. He’d learned long ago never to jump to a conclusion until all the facts were in. He would have to wait until the autopsy was done. But he wondered. Had Mrs. Hildebrand been overcome with remorse for poisoning her husband, and opted to kill herself? Unless, a voice said in his head, unless she thought her suicide would mean I’d close the case, and she was trying to protect her daughter. But he shook his head. If that was the case, where was the suicide note? And if it was a murder, it was extremely well done. Dammit, why hadn’t this case come together for him before this happened? Why did everything still seem scrambled behind a veil?
It was close to an hour before Jack opened the living room door. The three friends sat side by side on a lovely overstuffed cream sofa, speaking quietly. He wanted to go to Mary Lisa, try to tell her everything was going to be all right, but it wasn’t the time. “I’m sorry this is taking so long,” he said.
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