An Anniversary to Die For (26 page)

Apparently realizing for the first time that he had no idea what the woman was called, the minister sorted through his pages of notes. Unfortunately they all slid onto the floor beside the pulpit. So, gathering up his courage, he ended with a flourish. “One and all, we will miss her.

“And now a few words from . . . uh . . . her dear friend, Susan Henshaw. And before Miss Henshaw speaks, I’d like to extend an invitation to the congregation from Doug Marks, who wishes to invite each and every one of you back to his house right after this service is ended. Mrs. Henshaw.”

Susan stood up and walked up to the lectern, her statement held firmly in her hand. When Doug had asked her to speak, she hadn’t realized she was going to be the only speaker. She had taken an entire year of speech classes in college. The only thing she remembered now was her professor’s two words of advice: Breathe deeply. She did that now, climbing the steps to the pulpit. At the top, she stopped and gasped. She hadn’t realized that not only were all the pews filled, but the back aisles were crowded and the balcony as well. And not just with those friends and neighbors the minister had been speaking of. The press corps was also well represented.

Susan decided another deep breath was called for, then looked down at her notes and began. She had spent most of the night trying to write nice things about a woman she disliked, only to realize as she watched the sun come up that sometimes funerals weren’t as much about the person who died as about all the people we’ve known and lost. Once she saw that, she had been able to sincerely mourn Ashley, and she’d written a short, sincere speech. Reading it now, she had no idea whether she was touching anyone listening. If she had been completely honest, she would have admitted that all she wanted was for these few minutes to come to an end.

They did. And after another hymn and the benediction, so did the service. Susan hurried back to the narthex, looking for a shortcut to the ladies’ room. She and Jed were going to meet back at his car, but first things first!

Maybe it was its location, but miracle of miracles, the room was completely deserted. Susan had slipped into a booth and locked the door behind her before anyone else even entered the room. Her promptness was rewarded by overhearing herself complimented almost immediately.

“Susan did a wonderful job, didn’t she?” came the voice from the stall next to her.

“She did!” The agreement came from a woman standing by the sink. “I was so impressed. You don’t think she actually liked Ashley, do you?”

“I doubt it. But you never know with Susan. She’s not one to trash people. Unlike you and me. So what did you think of the minister?”

“What an idiot. I couldn’t believe he couldn’t get her name right!”

“I know. He mentioned every woman’s name starting with an
A
that I could think of! And I thought I’d die when he mentioned affairs.”

“Me too! Did you think he might ask one of her lovers to come up and speak?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Hey, look who’s been in the toilet stall! Susan, have you been listening to everything we were saying?”

“Yes,” Susan said, smiling at the two women. They’d all known each other since their children played on the same soccer league. She knew they would answer her next question. “What affairs?”

“Susan, don’t tell me you lived next door to Ashley and didn’t know she was sleeping with every available man in town?”

Susan walked over to the sink and began to wash her hands. “Really?”

“Really. She flirted with half of the husbands at that party you and Jed gave when they first moved in, and while I don’t know if she actually reeled in any of them right away, I’ve heard rumors about her and Malcolm Freed-man.”

“No! I heard that she and Johnny Kovacs were spending long afternoons upstairs at the Hancock Inn.”

“You’re kidding! I thought Johnny had better taste.”

“He probably does usually, but you know how Ashley could be.”

“What? Did she tell men that they had two choices? They could either sleep with her or else she’d poison them?”

“Wait a second.” Susan broke into the frivolity. “Are you sure about these men, or is this just gossip?”

“Yes, we’re sure.”

“It’s not just gossip.”

“Why didn’t I know?” Susan asked. “Why didn’t anyone say anything to me?”

The two women exchanged glances. “I guess everyone thought you knew. Ashley was always telling people how close you and she had become,” Maggie explained reluctantly.

“We didn’t believe it for a moment!” Betsy added quickly. “None of your friends did.”

“We were just neighbors. In fact, I’ve spent the week realizing that I knew almost nothing about Ashley or Doug!” Susan protested.

“We’re only telling you what Ashley said. She thought you and Jed were a big deal in town, I guess, and she wanted everyone to think you were close,” Maggie continued.

“And you were the only speaker at her funeral,” Betsy reminded her.

Susan was becoming more and more confused; but Jed was waiting for her, so she decided to return to her primary interest. “Do you think Doug knew about Ashley and other men?”

“I don’t see how he could have missed it. According to what I heard, they’d had an open marriage for years. I mean, it’s strange that he didn’t say anything at her funeral, isn’t it?”

“Maybe he was too distraught,” Susan suggested. “I was sitting nearby, and I can tell you, he looked dreadful.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Why are you so sure he didn’t sincerely care about his wife?”

“Susan, she’d been trying to kill him for the past few months. If Doug was feeling anything at all this morning, I would think it was relief.”

“Yes, he can finally sit down to a meal and feel confident that he’ll be able to get up when he’s finished,” Maggie agreed.

“Do you . . .” Susan stopped speaking as the door opened and Ashley’s cousin wandered into the room.

“You know Ashley—” Betsy began.

“This is Ashley’s cousin, from Ohio,” Susan interrupted before said cousin might hear something hurtful. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name,” she apologized.

“Fanny. Fanny Hurley. I’m so glad to see you. I thought that talk you gave was wonderful. I know Ashley would have been touched.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I didn’t have a very long time to write it. Doug just called and asked me to speak last night.”

Fanny frowned at the mention of Doug’s name. But her good manners prevailed, and she exchanged polite chitchat with the women for a few minutes before excusing herself and entering one of the stalls.

“We’d better head out. We’ll see you at Doug’s, right?” Maggie asked as Betsy pushed open the swinging door.

“Of course.” Susan was rummaging around her large, black Italian leather bag when Fanny rejoined her. “I know there’s a lipstick in here somewhere,” she explained.

“Your friends left?”

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll see them at the house later.”

“I followed you here,” Fanny said, turning on the water. “I have a favor to ask you. In fact, a few favors.”

“I told you: anything I can do to help.” Susan repeated the standard offer, hoping she wasn’t getting herself into anything onerous.

“First, I need a ride back to the house. I told Doug to go on without me.”

“Of course,” Susan said, relieved. “Jed is waiting outside. We can leave right away.”

“But I’d like to talk to you, just for a moment. Privately.”

“Sure.”

“You are investigating Ashley’s murder, aren’t you?”

“Well . . .”

“Of course you are. I know my cousin tended to exaggerate.” Fanny chuckled. “She always knew how to tell a good story. I used to tell her that she should write books. And I was right. She could have made her fictional characters do just what she wanted without resorting to more drastic measures.”

“What do you mean?” Susan asked, mystified.

“This is the church where my cousin’s memorial service took place. I don’t want you to think I’m hopelessly old-fashioned, but there must be more appropriate places for this conversation to take place.”

The bathroom door swung open, and three more women surged in.

“Why don’t we stop at my house for a bit before we go over to see Doug?” Susan suggested.

“I’d like that,” Fanny said, sounding relieved.

TWENTY-NINE

^“
IT’S SO GOOD TO HAVE A GLASS OF DECENT ICED TEA. ICED tea with lots and lots of fresh mint just means summer to me.”

Fanny Hurley leaned deeper into the cushion of the chaise lounge on Susan’s awning-covered brick patio. “It’s really lovely back here.” She looked around at the large green lawn surrounded by wide perennial borders leading down to the brook that marked the back of the Henshaws’property.

“Thank you. We have a very good landscaping company,” Susan explained, wondering how she might encourage Fanny to “get on with it.”

“Of course, Ashley talked about all that in her e-mails— her decorator, her landscape designer, her cleaning service, her house painter, her personal trainer. So many people seem to be necessary to maintain a lifestyle like this.”

“I suppose that’s true. But this garden wasn’t really designed by anyone. It just sort of developed over the years, and although I dream about a personal trainer, I’ve never had one. And Jed and I have always painted our own house—well, the inside at least,” she added, feeling obliged to be honest.

“So it was all just another of Ashley’s fantasies.”

“You mentioned that earlier,” Susan said, putting a plate of coconut shortbread cookies on a table close to her guest.

“You must think I’m crazy.”

“No, but I am a bit confused,” Susan admitted.

“I came here determined not to say anything negative about my cousin. After all, she’s dead and I didn’t ever confront her while she was alive.”

“What do you mean?” Susan asked, picking up a cookie and biting it in half.

“I’m not sure where to start—yes, I am. You know Ashley’s real name was Ann. At least that’s the name her parents gave her.”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s just it. She was always trying to be something—or someone—that she wasn’t born to be.”

“I had heard that her childhood wasn’t a lot like her adult life,” Susan said tactfully.

“Please don’t misunderstand me. Ashley was my only cousin. Signe is my only . . . well, I call her my niece, but of course, she isn’t really.”

Susan nodded, thinking that while Fanny had mentioned Signe twice in the short time they’d spoken, she hadn’t asked where that young woman was. It was a subject Susan certainly was not going to bring up. “I understand that you didn’t travel all this way just to trash your cousin.”

“Thank you. I must admit that there was always a kernel of truth in Ashley’s stories. She said she had moved into a town made up of very rich and very kind people. I don’t know about the rich part, but everyone is being very kind.”

“There are a lot of good people in Hancock.”

“Despite what the priest said this afternoon, I don’t believe Ashley would have been included if you were making a list of them. But please do not misunderstand me. Ashley did not deserve all the things that had happened to her.”

“No one deserves to be murdered,” Susan said, thinking she was agreeing with Fanny’s sentiments.

“No one deserves to be arrested for attempted murder, either. Not if they’re innocent.”

“You don’t think she did it?” Susan realized immediately how dreadful that sounded. “I mean . . .”

“You mean that you—and everyone else in Hancock— believe she poisoned her husband. Your local paper is on-line, you know. I followed the story. But, no, I don’t believe Ashley poisoned anyone—not knowingly, at any rate. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Susan’s hand stopped on the way to picking up another cookie. Some things were even more interesting than food. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

“You’re thinking that I hadn’t seen my cousin in years. And that’s right. And you’re thinking that Ashley wasn’t a very nice person. And that’s right, too. But she’s not a murderer.”

“I . . . I don’t know how to say this politely.”

“Just blurt it right out.”

“How do you know?” Susan asked.

“Makes sense. Ashley didn’t care much about anything but Ashley. Never did. She was like that when she was growing up, and nothing she wrote, did, or that I heard about her led me to believe she had changed.”

“So?”

“So why would she poison anyone? She had what she wanted. Money. Time to play around. Status. What did she have to gain if Doug died?”

“I don’t know. Wasn’t she his heir?”

“Nope. Signe was. The money—and there is a whole lot of money—was settled on Doug for his lifetime. But Doug’s parents weren’t real fond of Ashley, so if Doug had died first, the money was to go straight to Signe. I think Signe is a lovely lady with a good head on her shoulders, and she just might not be all that amenable to sharing her inheritance with a mother who was not at all interested in raising her. Signe’s a smart young thing, and I’m sure she’s managed to accept the fact that she’s alive because her mother had to trap a man with money into marrying her.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that.”

“No doubt about it.” Fanny took another sip from her glass and peered at Susan. “So, am I making sense?”

“Yes, but you know so much more about Ashley than I do. For instance, I had no idea that she and Doug got married because she was pregnant.”

“Yup. Those were the days when few women chose to raise children alone. Besides, Doug had to stay in the good graces of his parents, and his parents certainly did not want their grandchild to be born out of wedlock. They offered to help out with the rearing of the child.”

“I did know that Signe was raised by them.”

“Yes, she was. Although I don’t know if either of them expected that when Ashley came to them with the news. But Doug’s parents were good people, real good people, and they did a good job of raising Doug’s daughter. Better, I daresay, than he or Ashley would have done.”