by Raven Snow
“Why is that?”
Rowen didn’t even attempt to lie this time. Margo already knew what she wasn’t supposed to know. She might as well hear the whole thing. “Sounds like Tina and Teaghan fooled around some back in high school.”
Margo gasped. There were the beginnings of a smile on her face. It was hard to ignore. She was getting a kick out of all of this. It was like a soap opera for her. “Were they doing this all behind Dave’s back?”
“Seems like it. Tilda and Trish knew about it too. Sounds like they all kind of drifted apart afterward.”
Margo nodded like that was no surprise at all. “Teaghan was the kind of person who liked to manufacture drama. Tina was probably a victim of that. I wonder how many people Teaghan has had an affair with. I wonder if we’re going to see another one of her victims tonight.”
“We’ll see. We’re not far from Trish’s place now. I’m not sure if Richie is home, but I’d like to talk to him too.”
***
It took two or three more minutes to reach Trish’s home. It wasn’t far from downtown Lainswich. It was a nice place, even if the yard wasn’t terribly big. The house itself made up for that in the number of stories it had. There looked to be at least three floors and maybe an attic and basement as well. The sound of a lawn mower was going, and Rowen was able to follow the noise to the side of the house. A shirtless, muscular man was pushing the lawn mower. There was sweat beading all over his body, making his lean body glisten.
Margo gave a low whistle. “Would you look at that? If that’s Richie, I’m not sure I blame Teaghan in the least.”
Rowen rolled her eyes, refusing to grace that with a response. Margo wasn’t wrong, though. He was an awfully good-looking guy. She wouldn’t trade Eric in for anything, but she could still appreciate from a distance.
The man with the lawn mower watched them approach the door. He raised a hand in a small wave when Rowen met his gaze. She returned the wave with one of her own before using the same hand to knock on the front door.
“She probably can’t hear you over this racket.” Margo knocked again, as hard as she could manage.
The door opened only moments later. Trish stood in the doorway wearing a pink track suit. There was a little white dog yipping in her arms. “Hush, Chai,” she hissed at the dog before looking again to her guests. She put on a smile. “Did you find the place okay?”
“Yep,” said Rowen, putting on her own smile. “It wasn’t far from the Inquirer at all.”
“Good, good.” Trish stepped to one side and opened her front door wide. “Come on in, girls.”
Rowen did just that, closely followed by Margo. The house was as nice inside as it was out. There was a lot of brown. The wooden floorboards and walls had just enough shine to them to suggest old age. The stone fireplace was flawless in a way that truly rustic things were. Still, it looked nice—even if all that log cabin charm did clash with quite a bit of fluffy, pastel decor. There was a big, fuzzy pink rug as well as some tacky bedazzled throw pillows and the like. Rowen figured this was Trish’s doing. So be it. Whatever floated her boat.
“Your home is so pretty,” said Margo, still craning her neck this way and that to look around. Rowen caught some sarcasm in her tone, but it wasn’t enough as to be noticeable by people that didn’t know her all that well.
“Thank you,” Trish said, beaming. “It took ages to get it just right. Richie and I had to come to a compromise. I think compromise is key in every successful relationship, don’t you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Margo, still not sounding all that sincere.
Trish sat on the sofa and placed her little white dog on the floor. He took off like a shot, bouncing around Rowen and Margo, yipping madly. “Don’t mind him. His bark is worse than his bite. Go on. Sit wherever you like.”
Rowen carefully stepped around the speedy white thing at her heels. She didn’t care for this kind of dog. It wasn’t the dog’s fault. She just disliked any pet you had to take for regular haircuts. Rowen found herself a seat on the sofa and sat. Margo plopped herself down on the opposite end of it. “So,” Rowen began, pulling her purse onto her lap. “Do you mind if I record the audio from this interview so that I can review it later?”
Trish waved a hand. “Not at all. You go right ahead. Do whatever it is you need to do.”
Rowen began preparing the tape recorder, taking it from inside her purse and scanning the room to determine the best place to put the thing. Margo engaged Trish in the meantime. “So, is that your husband out there?” she asked, inclining her hand toward the door.
“Mowing the lawn? Yep! That’s my Richie.” Trish’s smile was suddenly a sly, knowing one. She knew that her husband inspired jealousy in others. She enjoyed it, though Rowen wasn’t quite sure why. Either she loved people lusting over something she had that they could not or she and her husband were kinky sorts that just… liked that kind of thing period. Depending on what came from this in the long run, Rowen wasn’t sure which would be more awkward.
“Do you think we’ll get a chance to interview him as well?” asked Rowen. After a lot of fruitless searching, she had finally determined that the coffee table was still as good a place as any to set up. She scooted to the edge of the sofa in the hopes that it would better pick her up. The table was much closer to Trish than it was to anyone else.
“Why would you need to?”
Rowen wasn’t quite sure why Trish was asking unless she was attempting to instigate something. She was sure they had talked about this over the phone before she came. Granted Rowen hadn’t gotten a straight answer out of her then either. “He was there as well,” Rowen said, simply. “And, as far as I know, he hasn’t really offered his perspective on what happened. It might be useful or it might not. We really won’t know until we chat with him.” She didn’t broach the part where they suspected he had been having an affair with Teaghan.
“Maybe,” said Trish. “It depends on how long he’s busy out there.”
Rowen got on with things. There was no point in asking for an answer better than that one right now. “So, it’s been a few days since you lost Teaghan. How are you holding up?”
Trish’s smile faded. She looked at the floor. “It wasn’t just me who lost Teaghan. The whole of Lainswich lost her and we’re worse off for it. I’m hanging in there as best I can.”
That all felt like a bit of an exaggeration. There were negative emotions there but they weren’t nearly as theatrical as Trish was making it all out to be. “When was the last time you saw her?”
Trish took a moment to consider that question. “Hmm… I suppose… I do believe she was with Dave. They were getting their picture taken. I went to the bar and… I don’t think I saw her after that, to be honest. I didn’t even see that whole nightmare business with the balloons, thank goodness. I mean, I heard the screaming and saw the crowd. There were still balloons falling and lots of folks were running for the exit. I got my little tush right out of there too. I’m sure glad I did! I’m not sure if I would have ever slept again otherwise.”
“What did you do between the bar and the balloons falling?” asked Rowen.
Trish needed a moment to answer that as well. There was the slightest of frowns upon her face. She didn’t like being questioned like this, it seemed. Maybe it made her feel like she was a suspect. No one ever liked feeling like a suspect. “I don’t think I did any one thing. I did a bunch of different stuff, chatted with a bunch of different people. I know you people didn’t have a bunch of friends back then, but this was a big deal for me.”
“You people?” Margo repeated, nearly laughing the words. Rowen had to admit that it was a rather odd turn of phrase.
“I just mean people who weren’t all that crazy about high school,” Trish explained, looking back and forth between the two women sitting in front of her. “I mean, you didn’t like high school all that much, did you?”
“Why would you think that?” asked Margo, even though it was true; none
of them had enjoyed their school years, not as far as Rowen knew.
Trish’s eyes widened. She clearly didn’t like being put on the spot. “I don’t know,” she blurted. “I suppose you… I didn’t think people were all that kind to you.”
“I guess you would know,” said Margo.
Rowen cleared her throat and hastily stepped in. “So, do you have any theories of your own as to what happened to Teaghan?”
Trish tore her gaze from Margo and studied Rowen instead. “Hmm? Oh, no. Not really. I couldn’t begin to guess who might have done it. Everyone loved Teaghan.”
“Obviously, not everyone loved Teaghan,” Margo pointed out.
“You mean, like you guys? Like the Greensmiths?” Trish challenged, sitting up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders. “I know you and your family didn’t like her much. If anyone around here had reason to murder her, it could very well have been you.”
“Do you really believe that?” asked Rowen.
That question deflated Trish a bit. She sagged back down where she sat. “No,” she admitted. “I guess I don’t. I can’t see what you would have stood to gain from it.”
Rowen wasn’t trying to convince Trish that they weren’t the guilty party, but she needed to make sure that she understood the facts of the case. “The person who killed her might not have had anything to gain from the act at all. It could have easily been an act of passion. Maybe it was a physical altercation that got out of hand.”
“I heard about that,” said Trish. “I’m not sure I buy it, though.”
“And why not?”
“I mean, look where… where they put the body!”
“In the net that held the balloons? That doesn’t show a lot of critical thinking. They’re lucky it didn’t break immediately. Someone may very well have caught the person responsible right then and there had that been the case.”
“Yeah, but to put her up there, they had to be really mad. They wanted to humiliate Teaghan, make a big, ungraceful scene out of her death.” Trish dabbed at her eyes with her fingers, using a very light touch. Her mascara wasn’t running, but clumps of the stuff were rubbing off onto her fingertips. “I’m sorry… It’s just, they put her up there for a reason.”
“That still falls in with the whole thing being a crime of passion,” Rowen pointed out. “I mean, obviously emotions were running high there. That’s kind of what a crime of passion is.”
“Well, they still had something to gain from that,” Trish insisted. “It wasn’t enough that they killed her. Even if it was an accident, what happened, happened. I mean, if it was really a crime of passion, wouldn’t it kind of just… I don’t know.” Trish shifted where she sat, like she didn’t want to say what was on her mind. “Wouldn’t it have stopped after they accidentally killed her? I mean, if it had really been an accident, wouldn’t they have panicked then? I guess, maybe, they tried to hide the body. You wouldn’t hide it where it was going to make as much of a scene as possible, would you? It doesn’t make sense. That’s like… That’s like they wanted something out of killing her. It couldn’t possibly just be a crime of passion, could it?”
Trish had looked up at Rowen for that last part, catching Rowen off guard. She hadn’t expected Trish to be so insightful, but she had obviously given this a lot of thought. Rowen could only shrug. “I really don’t know yet. I wish I did. Can you think of anyone who might have been capable of that sort of thing?”
Trish bit her bottom lip. She chewed idly at some bit of flesh invisible from where Rowen sat. “I really don’t know,” said Trish. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Nonstop even. I can’t think of anyone.”
“Not even a single person?” asked Margo, not bothering to disguise the annoyance in her voice.
Trish looked at Margo with a frown. “That’s what, ‘I can’t think of anyone,’ means, isn’t it?”
Chai, the little white dog, began to run figure eights around the room. Rowen did her best to ignore the sound of his galloping feet. “I know this might sound somewhat insensitive.” Rowen noted the way Trish’s expression hardened, preparing for the worst. “But… Did you have any indication that Teaghan might have been cheating on her husband?”
Trish swallowed and clasped her hands tight in her lap. “What? With who?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Did you get that sort of impression?”
“That she was cheating on Dave?” Trish was gripping her hands together so tight that her knuckles had drained of their former pink and were now stark white. “She loved Dave.”
“I don’t doubt that,” said Rowen, and she really didn’t. Teaghan probably had loved Dave in her own way. Some people just weren’t cut out for monogamy, though. Her cousin seated on her left was living proof of that fact. “I’ve just heard from some other people close to her that she had cheated on Dave in the past.”
“Who?” Trish demanded immediately. “Who said that about her?”
“Dave himself, for one.” Rowen wasn’t about to reveal any more names. Fortunately, just the one name seemed to do the trick.
“What did Dave say?”
“He didn’t really know anything for sure.” Rowen still didn’t want to mention the possibility of Teaghan having an affair with Richie. At least, she didn’t want to before she had had a chance to talk to Richie anyway. “He just had his suspicions. He knew that she had done this sort of thing in the past.”
Trish nodded. “She’s done that sort of thing before.” Just saying it out loud brought a miserable expression to Trish’s face. She propped her elbow on the arm of her chair and let her head loll into her hand. “Teaghan was just that kind of person though, you know? She wasn’t bad. She just… I don’t know.”
“She liked drama,” Margo concluded.
“Drama just followed her around.” Trish shot Margo an unhappy look. It seemed she wasn’t willing to throw her friend under a proverbial bus just yet. Like Dave, she seemed reluctant to speak poorly of Teaghan now that she was dead.
The front door opened, drawing everyone out of their funk. Heads turned in the direction of the door as Richie stepped inside. Chai took off toward the door, yipping all the way. Richie ignored him like this was a daily occurrence. He wiped the sweat on his brow away with the back of a hand.
“Go take a shower, Sweetie,” said Trish. “We have guests, and you’re dripping gross sweat everywhere.”
“Sorry.” Richie flashed a white, toothy grin at their guests.
“Hi there,” said Rowen, smiling back at him. “I’m Rowen and this is my cousin, Margo. We’re from the Lainswich Inquirer.” Rowen assumed he already knew, but it felt like the polite thing to do just in case.
Richie raised his eyebrows. Apparently, he had not known. “I guess you’re here about Teaghan?”
“Honey!” snapped Trish. “Shower!” Trish was already on her feet and hurrying across the room. She threw open the door of a linen closet.
“Sorry,” Richie said again, eyes still on the Greensmiths. He assumed a charming smile, like he was sharing a secret with them. His wife was a ridiculous woman, and he knew it as well as they did.
“Do you think we can have a word after your shower?” asked Rowen, before he could get away from them entirely.
Trish gave a little huff as she mopped up the droplets of sweat Richie had tracked. It was hard to tell if she was mad about the mess or the fact that Rowen was going over her head to speak with her husband.
“I don’t see why not. I’ll be back in a few.” Richie continued into the bathroom.
Trish finished her cleaning and went to put the towel away somewhere, likely the dirty laundry. At the other end of the house, Rowen heard the sounds of a shower coming on. Margo leaned in close to Rowen, seeing as they were alone for the moment. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m lucky I don’t have friends and family like these people seem to. It’s like they hardly even know each other.” Rowen supposed that was just how it was when you were more
focused on appearances than truly letting people in.
“Can I get you two anything while I’m up?” asked Trish, coming back into the room. She had put on a smile again, as if the conversation had been perfectly cheerful all the way up until now.
“I’m all right,” Rowen assured her. Margo nodded in agreement.
“Are you sure?” Trish pressed. “Water, soda, coffee? I can get you a snack if you like. I don’t really keep snack food around the house, but I’m sure Richie has something somewhere I could grab for you.”
“We’re fine,” said Margo, almost before Trish had finished speaking.
“All right.” Trish skirted her chair and sat back down. She kept her gaze fixed on Margo, a smile still on her face. “You know, it’s really impressive how much weight you’ve lost since high school.”
Rowen winced inwardly. She looked at her cousin, hoping she wouldn’t take that in a bad way. It was probably too much to ask for. Margo was terribly sensitive about the idea that she had ever been overweight.
“You look so nice now,” said Trish, giving Margo an obvious once over. “You would never know you were even the same person.”
“That’s probably because she’s an adult now,” Rowen said quickly. “All the Greensmiths put on weight going through puberty. It’s normal when your body is still maturing.”
Trish laughed like they were friends involved in some good-natured ribbing. “I think that was a little more than some extra puberty pounds. I mean, don’t get me wrong Margo, you look great now.”
If you were to ask Rowen, she thought Margo could stand to put on some weight. She was much too skinny and obsessed with keeping it that way. “Glad for your approval,” said Margo, pointedly not looking at Trish as she stood. “I’m going to stand outside.”
