The Fortieth Birthday Body

by Valerie Wolzien

  “Then you understand why Detective Sardini and I won’t just casually pass you information,” Mitchell replied, a slight grin appearing on his face.

  She was determined to stay cool. “Why don’t you say something?” she asked the other man, moving closer to his desk. “Why are you ignoring me? I might have some information that you need …”

  “If you are withholding information that could be valuable to our investigation, you are obstructing justice and, as such, are liable to criminal prosecution. I think,” Mitchell leaned across his desk for emphasis, “that you had better tell us what you know right now.”

  “I am not going to stand here and …” Kathleen began again.

  “You might make up your mind.” Detective Sardini stopped reading and looked up at her, his face betraying nothing of what he was thinking. “You came in here five minutes ago asking questions. Now you are telling us that you possibly know things about Dawn Elliot or her death that we don’t know. Are you here to trade information?” He waved his hand to quiet Mitchell, who had been about to jump into the conversation. “My colleague will insist that we do not trade information, but, as a former member of the police department, you know that isn’t true.

  “Now,” he continued. “You are interested in trading what for what?”

  “I …” Kathleen began, thinking as fast as she could.

  “I assume your interest in the Elliots’ financial affairs has something to do with all this—you did come in here asking for a look at Mrs. Elliot’s will, didn’t you?”

  Mitchell was smiling nastily and even Sardini was beginning to look as if he was enjoying her confusion.

  “You and I both know that after the will is probated, it will become public record …” Kathleen began.

  “And you are willing to wait until then. Excellent. Then, unless you know something about Mrs. Elliot’s death that we don’t, I think we will leave you and continue our investigation.” Detective Sardini slid the papers he was looking at into a manila folder and got up from his seat. “We will look very carefully into the Elliot family finances, since you seem to think that there is something there worth asking questions about.” He smiled.

  Kathleen left the room without a word, slamming the door behind her.

  VII

  At five o’clock, she drove into her driveway, the first flakes of snow appearing before the headlights of her car. She left the magazines she had bought for Chad on the seat beside her; she would go to his house later. Right now, she wanted to wash her face, put the morning dishes in the dishwasher, and put a chicken in the oven. If this storm turned out to be anything like the weather people were predicting, Jerry might skip the banquet and come home hungry. She wanted to have a hot meal ready for him. She got out of her car and hurried up the lighted walkway to her house, carefully avoiding places where ice was likely to form during the day.

  Feeling cleaner and her kitchen ready for the next meal, she was chopping parsley and onions to put into the cavity of the bird when her phone rang. She reached out for it with one hand and began stuffing with the other. But the serious sound of the voice attracted her attention and she stopped what she was doing to listen after the first few words.

  “Kathleen, you’d better get over to Susan’s house right away,” said her husband without any preliminary chat. “Jed’s been arrested for murder.”

  FORTY PLUS FIVE

  I

  “So it was all a mistake,” Kathleen said to her husband. He was sitting, head in his hands, at the kitchen table. She was removing an enameled pan from the oven. It contained the remains of last night’s chicken dinner: a dark brown lump of skin-covered bones, the result of putting a six-and-a-half-pound roaster in a 325-degree oven and leaving it there for twelve hours.

  Jerry looked up. “What’s that?”

  “Chicken jerky,” she answered, dumping it into the trash compactor and tossing the blackened pan into the sink before joining him at the table. “I wish I understood why the police asked Jed to come to the police station last night.”

  “I assumed he was going to be arrested. That’s why I called you. I thought Susan shouldn’t be alone when she heard the news.”

  “She was so distracted by Chad’s chicken pox she didn’t even wonder why I was there,” Kathleen replied, picking out a slightly stale piece of coffee cake from a platter on the table and biting into it. “Yuck. I think this is related to that chicken.

  “Actually,” she continued, “I was glad for the company. I hate the thought of you driving home from the city on those slick roads. Do you have to go in today?”

  “Yes. And I have to leave right now.” He stood up and pulled his tie tighter around his neck. “Don’t worry about me. The Cherokee’s great on these roads. And I won’t be alone. Jed’s going in with me. He called for a ride while you were in the shower.”

  “That’s fantastic. Will you …”

  “I’ll call when I get to the office and tell you about what happened last night. At least, I’ll tell you everything he tells me. I’m not going to quiz the poor guy all the way to the city, Kathleen. He probably had enough of that last night.” He kissed his wife and started to leave the room. “You are going back over to Susan’s this morning, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” she answered. “I don’t know what excuse I’ll use for being there, but I’m going.”

  “Then you be careful driving, too. You may be driving a four-wheel-drive car, but not everyone else on the road is, remember.”

  “I know. Maybe I’ll run into someone else with four-wheel drive though, someone who owns a black Jeep,” she answered, staring past her husband and out the window into the still-falling snow.

  Jerry, already mentally battling the storm, smiled vaguely before leaving. Kathleen was equally distracted, remembering last night. She had dashed over to Susan’s immediately after her husband’s call, expecting to find the household in tears. Instead she’d discovered that Susan had gathered her children in front of the fireplace, and all three were eating toasted cheese sandwiches and drinking hot chocolate. Kathleen, confused by the difference between her expectations and what she found, decided the best thing to do was accept their offer to join in. Chad, still feverish, had fallen asleep wrapped in a blanket on the couch before half his food was finished. Chrissy, excited by the prospect of another day off from school because of the snow, had joined some of her friends outside in the dark streets for an after-dinner snowball fight. Their shrill cries could be heard through the wind each time Susan opened the door to check how deep the snow was getting.

  Kathleen, who didn’t really like chocolate, had cupped the warm mug in her hands and sipped absently; now that the children weren’t listening, Susan would talk about her husband’s arrest. Or so she thought. Instead Susan had calmly related that Jed had called and told her that his lunch with the lawyer had been productive, but too short and he was skipping the banquet to talk with him again. And that he would be coming home late on the train and he’d grab a taxi at the station. Susan’s main worry, it appeared, was whether he would be able to find a taxi if the snow continued. Kathleen, undecided about what to do, had called Jerry, hoping to get more information about Jed and just why he thought Jed had been arrested. But the phone rang in an office deserted by people who wanted to be home before the weather made the trip impossible. Deciding not to say anything, she and Susan had spent the evening drowsing in front of the fire, mentioning neither Dawn nor the investigation.

  Jed had arrived home around nine, saying nothing about the police, at least in front of Kathleen, and she had left her friends talking over their son’s chicken pox and driven through the blizzard to her own home, only to find that Jerry had also skipped the banquet, and had spent the last few hours maneuvering through the weather and around the resulting accidents, arriving in their driveway moments before her. They had admired the mounting drifts in the light of the street lamps and gone inside to bed, only to awaken this morning with more questions
and, Kathleen thought, fewer answers.

  The only thing to do, she decided, was call Susan and see what had happened. She was dialing the phone before she had even thought about what she was going to say. The phone rang once before it was answered.

  “Hi … Chrissy. It’s Kathleen Gordon. Is your mother free to talk?” She glanced at the clock over the stove while speaking. She hadn’t realized how early it was.

  Chrissy’s answer confirmed her guess. “I’m not sure she’s up yet, Mrs. Gordon. I think—no, wait, don’t hang up. I hear her now,” the child interrupted herself.

  “Hi, Kathleen.” Susan’s voice came on the line.

  “Susan, I’m sorry for calling so early,” Kathleen began.

  “No problem. I was up early with Chad. And I wanted to ask you for a favor anyway.”

  “Anything. How is Chad?”

  “Not bad. It looks like a mild case so far. That’s what’s worrying me. He woke up today without a fever and any second now he’s going to start getting bored. I might be able to convince him to spend part of the morning with a book, but I hate to think of the afternoon and evening. So I was wondering if you would go to the video store for me and rent some tapes.”

  “Sure,” Kathleen agreed quickly, seeing herself provided with an excuse to see Susan. “What movies does he want?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. What he would like to see is something along the lines of Porky’s or anything else about sex and teenage life.”

  “I gather you’re not enthusiastic about that.”

  “I know he’s past Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but I don’t think he’s ready for pubescent sex fantasies. And, frankly, there isn’t much in between. You’d better head for the PG section, and we’ll hope that he’s too bored to complain about your selection. Get three or four, if you can. They probably won’t have much choice on a day when the kids are off from school. I should have thought of this last night.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll leave right now. They’re bound to have something this early in the morning—if they’re open. I’ll be at your house in half an hour. ’Bye.” She hung up quickly before Susan could put off her early arrival.

  But she was too early. While the notice on the door informed her that the video store opened at nine a.m. on weekdays, a quick look in the window provided evidence to the contrary. The store was deserted, still locked up for the night. Kathleen slipped through the drifts to the comparative warmth of her car, parked where she could see anyone’s arrival. She pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck and composed herself to think about last night’s police interest in Jed. But her time alone was short.

  “Kathleen! What is this? A stakeout or something?” The voice was accompanied by loud knocking on the now fogged-up window of the passenger’s side of the front seat. Kathleen reached over, opened up the door, and discovered the identity of the person on the other side.

  “Brigit, what are you doing out so early on such a horrible morning?”

  “Same thing you’re doing—waiting for the stores to open up.” Brigit Frye freed one hand from her heavy heather cloak and waved at the quiet street. “You and me and everyone else in those cars,” she added. Kathleen followed her glance and recognized for the first time that the main street of Hancock was parked almost solid with cars and most of the cars had people sitting in them.

  They couldn’t all be waiting to rent video tapes, Kathleen thought. Brigit answered the question before she asked.

  “I’m waiting for the drugstore to open. What about you?”

  “Video Visions,” Kathleen answered, pointing at the store. “Chad Henshaw has chicken pox and Susan’s worried about keeping him amused, so I volunteered to pick up some tapes for him.”

  “That’s better than what I’m doing,” Brigit said. “I’m picking up one of those home pregnancy tests. Mind if I come in and get warm? I had to park my car about three blocks away.”

  “No, of course not.” Kathleen hurried to open the door. Maybe there were advantages to being a civilian: Information had never fallen into her lap in this way when she was a police officer. “Is it for you?” she asked, when the other woman had gotten settled into the seat.

  “I wouldn’t stand out there in the cold for anyone else,” Brigit assured her.

  “Maybe you’re just late, not pregnant,” Kathleen suggested, hoping to keep the conversation going.

  “That’s what I’ve been telling myself for the last two weeks. But I’m beginning not to believe it. Thus the test.” She shrugged, seeming unwilling to continue the discussion.

  Kathleen wasn’t giving up so easily. “Well, maybe you just miscounted,” she suggested.

  “I doubt it,” came the sour response. “Oh, guess who called last night? Gloria Bower!”

  “Really?” Kathleen said. “Did she mention her temper tantrum or whatever that was at the Inn the other day?”

  “Sure did. She called to apologize, in fact. She said that she’d had so little sleep taking care of Missy and some sort of stomach problem that the child is having that she just blew up for no reason.” She shrugged. “Sounds a little fishy to me, but who am I to talk? I thought I was going insane when my own kids were babies, and she has to worry about being approved by the state welfare people on top of all that. Oh, there’s someone removing the closed sign from the door. I’ll be seeing you, Kathleen. And, by the way, don’t broadcast this around town. If I am pregnant, I’m certainly not going to stay pregnant and I don’t want the entire town knowing about it! That’s why I’m waiting here for the store to open instead of going over to Dan’s office.” She swept out of the car and hurried down the slippery sidewalk to the pharmacy.

  Kathleen noticed movement in the video tape store and got out of the car herself, just in time to be splashed by a snowplow turning the corner. She leapt back off the street as another truck, following the plow, sprayed grit and salt over the cleared roadway. “Damn.” She looked down at her recently acquired Italian boots, now covered with the caustic mess, shrugged, and hurried across the street and into the open store.

  II

  “Damn. Look at this; the color ran on to my stocking. You would think that paying over three hundred dollars for a pair of boots would guarantee that the dye is permanent. Oh, here are the tapes,” Kathleen continued, handing over the bag she had put down on the floor of Susan’s hall. “I hope there is something there that he’ll like. I got Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Short Circuit. It really isn’t easy to pick things out for someone his age, is it?”

  “No. It was easier when his favorite movie was Dumbo. Much easier. Anyway …” She paused and put Kathleen’s boots on some newspaper. “He’s asleep now so we don’t have to worry about him. And Chrissy’s already off to a friend’s house for the day. So we have some time to talk.”

  “Great. What did Jed tell the police this time? Has he told you about his affair with Dawn? Or do you get the impression that the police know from anything any one of them has said to you? And what about the lawyer Jed was going to talk to in the city?”

  Susan looked up from her task. “All good questions,” she said with a sigh.

  “You must know the answers to some of them,” Kathleen urged.

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even ask him about his interview with the lawyer? Or what the police wanted him for? Come on, Susan. You and Jed are so close. You must be at least talking to him these days.”

  “Well, Chad napped earlier in the evening and had a hard time getting to sleep. At about midnight the poor kid was so miserable and itchy and I was so tired that Jed took over and told me to go take a shower while he read to Chad. I did and then I fell asleep before he made it to bed. This morning, we didn’t have much time to talk. Jed told me not to worry, that the police were asking questions about the sand and small pieces of driftwood that they found in the trunk of the Mercedes. They had gone all the way down to the dealer’s to check it out. Can you believe that? Well, once he told them t
hat we had transported driftwood back from the shore to use as firewood, they lost interest. I don’t see why they would care about it myself. I guess it was just surprising to find it in the car at this time of the year.”

  “That’s all?”

  “And they asked something strange,” Susan continued. “They wanted to know who our doctors are and who has our medical records for the last few years.”

  “That’s interesting,” Kathleen said, remembering the autopsy report’s analysis about debris on the body, but she didn’t enlighten Susan. “And about the lawyer?”

  “He didn’t mention it. But that doesn’t mean anything. He was busy with Chad and calling Jerry for a ride. He just didn’t have time to talk. He’ll probably call today and … That’s probably him now,” she said as the phone rang.

  “Hello? Yes, she’s right beside me,” Susan said after a pause. With a quizzical look, she handed the receiver to Kathleen.

  “Who is it?” Kathleen leaned over to whisper.

  “Detective Sardini,” Susan said quickly. A loud clunk over her head indicated that Chad might be up. She pointed to indicate her destination and hurried up the stairs.

  Kathleen stayed in her seat. “Hello.”

  “I have some information you might be interested in, Mrs. Gordon,” the voice of the detective came on the line. “I could give it to you over the phone but, if you have the time, I’d rather see you in person.”

  “Of course.” No way Kathleen was going to give up this opportunity. “You’re at your office in the municipal building?”

  “Yes. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  A click indicated the end of the conversation and Kathleen bounded, stocking-footed, up the stairs to find Susan. “I’m meeting Sardini down at his office,” she announced, rushing into the room where Susan was sitting with her son. “I’ll call you when I find out what’s going on. He says he has something to tell me. But I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” she added quickly. “He seemed very upbeat on the phone.” And she dashed out of the room and back downstairs.