Her Last Letter (37 page)

“Can’t say. Sure can’t say for you. I’d rather just collect the facts and stay out of the rest of it. But, since you asked, I’ll tell you this. A lot of men cheat on their wives. I can attest to that. And not every woman tosses the guy out, the first time, or the second. I think it’s a personal decision, and in some ways, a cultural one. A lot of women here in the States are taught that if the guy cheats, he’s a bastard, and that’s that. And if you don’t toss him out, you’ve got rocks in your head. But I don’t think it’s that simple. I’ve seen marriages revived after the guy is discovered, and others dissolve. Depends on the couple, what’s right for them. But if a man is cheating-and it’s not just men, you know-you have to consider the other issues. Health hazards are a big one.

“It’s strange,” she said, “but the thing I’ve found to be the most perplexing, is how many guys are willing to forgive a woman who strays. Yeah, the men, they yell and they have a holy fit, but in the end a lot of them will take her back-if she wants to stay. Maybe the guys are more likely to forgive because they know how easy it is to make a mistake. Or maybe their love is just a little less conditional. I don’t know. I just know what I’ve seen.”

I looked at her. “Thanks … for your honesty.”

“No extra charge for my dime store psychology. So, on that note, we still have the issue of your sister and Wolfgang. Now that’s a whole different ball of wax. I did some more checking, and though Wolfgang has never been married before, your sister isn’t the first well-heeled woman he’s wined and dined. With his previous women, he either took off when trouble brewed or was tossed out. He spent a few nights in jail in one instance, on charges of abuse. I also checked out that other item you mentioned. And yes, Wolfgang’s parents did die in an avalanche. And he did live with an uncle, but not until he was eight years old. Before that, he passed through a series of foster homes. So, we’ll give him that. He had a tough time growing up. But we won’t give him a whole lot else.”

She stopped to look over her notes. “Oh-and Josh. Of course, we know now that he didn’t have anything to do with Kelly, or her murder. The Vancouver thing-looks like Josh just wanted to get away for a while. His father lived in British Columbia when he was a young boy, used to talk about it with Josh, reminisce on how much he enjoyed his life there. Then Josh’s father moved to the States and married Josh’s mother. All in all, from everything I can see, Josh appears to be a pretty all-round nice guy.”

“He is.”

“There’s more videotape for you to look at, more emails, etcetera, but no new revelations, like I said. You might find some of it interesting though. You have any questions for me?”

“Actually, I do have one-if you don’t mind. But it’s a little personal.”

“Go ahead. Shoot.”

“You don’t talk much about yourself. Maybe that’s a good idea in your type of business, but I am curious about the disguises you use, and how you were able to so accurately imitate my sister’s voice.”

She shrugged. “Actually, it’s just fun for me, using a disguise, a way to make a sometimes dull business more exciting. And it can be helpful if I need to hang out at a location where I might be spotted. At least, I look like a different person each time. I think I always wanted to be an actress, play different roles … though, of course, on an amateur level. I’m not talented enough for the big time, nor would I want to pursue that whole Hollywood scene. And the voice? Kelly’s? I do have a gift for mimicry, been having a good time with that since I was a kid. I have what you might call a very good ear and unusually adaptable vocal cords. Plus, I practice a lot.”

“Would you do one for me? A voice?”

“Sure. I can do that. Umm, let me think. Okay, see if you can guess who this is. I’ll give you a hint. The actress played this particular character in a popular sexy TV series….
Without shoes, life would be dull, drab, and boring. I absolutely love my new pair of strappy sandals.
I’m not quoting anything here. It’s just something I made up that sounds like something she might say.”

“Oh, that was way too easy. Sarah Jessica Parker playing Carrie in
Sex and the City.
“

“You guessed it.”

“You’re absolutely amazing. And I didn’t need your hint at all.”

“Thanks. I hadn’t tried her out on anyone yet. Wondered how close I was.” She glanced at her watch. “Well, Caroline’s probably wondering what in the heck’s taking us so long.”

“Yes, she’s probably hungry. Are you ready to eat?”

“Yep. Hope she’s got them wings a cookin’,” Sue said in a very believable southern twang.

“And some ribs,” I said.

“Yes indeedy.”

On my way home from lunch, I passed by the bank. The garbage bags with Kelly’s money were still locked inside the storage locker down in the basement. Today would be as good a day as any to do the unpleasant job of taking it all to the bank to be formally counted.

I walked downstairs and pulled out one of the bags to begin a preliminary count. First, I cleared a table to stack the money, then unzipped one of the smaller vinyl bags inside and shook the cash out, stacked it, unzipped the next. But as I shook out the fifth bag, a sheet of paper slipped out and drifted to the floor.

I picked it up, my breath catching in my throat.

Hello,

If you find this, it’s almost certain that I’m dead. I’m so sorry, Gwyn, Linda, if you are still there to read this, for of course, I’ve made you suffer … again.

If you don’t know already, my plans were to jet off to Italy, then once aboard the plane, call the authorities and let them know about Craig, and poor David. Again, if it weren’t for me, David might still be alive. He deserves a decent final resting place, and his family needs to know what happened to him. He’s buried under the woodpile behind the garage. Craig put him there after he drugged, then stabbed him, the same thing I fear he will do to me. David made the mistake of falling for me, then trying to help me. He told me what Craig did to that girl in Texas, that Craig wasn’t just threatening me, that he’d actually killed her. And he planned to do the same thing to me. All the Mexico talk was just crap. He wants the money. That’s all. Craig knew that David told me. The poor guy was so transparent.

Craig wasted no time, killed him that same night. I knew it would happen, and told David to take the cash I’d given him and get out, but he worried about me, and wouldn’t leave. Just after dark, I heard something going on out beyond the house. I’d just come back from the gas station for some cigarettes. I could hear voices out there, so I snuck back to take a look. Craig was hunched over something on the ground. Then I saw David. Then Craig lifted up the bloody knife. It made me so sick. And I was scared. I knew it was already over, nothing I could do. I beat it out of there, didn’t want Craig to know that I saw. I didn’t come back to the house for hours. When I did, Craig was gone.

I searched around out beyond the house in the field, but couldn’t find David. At first, I had this crazy idea that maybe he’d gotten away somehow, after Craig left. Then I looked over to the woodpile. It was messed up, rearranged. I knew that’s where David was buried. I thought about calling the cops, but I knew Craig would try to involve me, say I was in on it. After all, I withdrew all that money and made fake IDs for both of us. It would look bad. And I don’t want to go to jail.

Craig won’t do anything to me until he has the money. I know that for sure. But he’s not going to get it. I made duplicate sets of bags, real, and fake, with a little real cash up front in the fake ones, just in case he checks. By the time he figures out I’ve switched the bags and his ID, I’ll be long gone.

Like I said though, if you find this letter, something went wrong. Funny, about Dad’s secret room, huh? I found it one day while I was chasing after a mouse that ran behind the tool cabinet. I just pushed, and like in some dark tale of castles on the moor, I discovered his hideaway. Dad left the key on a shelf, deep in a corner, the combination along with it. Nothing was inside the safe though. Probably cleaned everything out before he died … so like our father. But I used the safe to hide the money from Craig, knew he’d never find it there.

I love you. I know you love me too. No matter what happens, I want you to know I’m heartsick and sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I’m going to change. It’s not too late. I hope you never find this letter, that instead I come back and open the safe myself, that by then I’ve bought a little villa in Italy, with vibrant pansies trailing from the window boxes, where I write my stories and flirt with the sexy Italian men. Then we’ll all go visit my place together, and be a family again, only better than before. I pray this happens. If not … I promise I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.

Your loving sister, Kelly

When I arrived at the old house, the street was lined with police cars. Crime scene tape and barricades surrounded the yard. Neighbors stood at a distance in talkative groups or milled around, trying to catch a glimpse of the newest police action on the block. I parked on an adjacent street and set out to look for Caroline, who was the first person I’d telephoned after I finished Kelly’s letter. As I turned the corner and the house came into view, I saw Caroline at the edge of the crowd and yelled for her. She crossed the street and jogged toward me.

“Wow, what next?” she said, getting in step with me as we approached the throng of gawkers.

“Have they found out anything yet about this David guy?” I asked. “I don’t remember Kelly ever mentioning him, and I don’t think his name ever came up during the police investigation.”

“According to Nate, the cops don’t know who he is either, but they’ll sure get busy trying to identify him. The medical examiner from the coroner’s office is here, and he’s been taking pictures and stuff for a while, doing whatever it is those guys do. They just pulled the body out of the ground a minute ago. Sheeez. Can’t think there’d be much to look at after all this time. I sure don’t want to look myself, even if they let me, which I’m sure they won’t. Did you get a hold of Linda?”

“Yes, finally. But she’s not coming. Can’t blame her.”

“No, guess not.”

“And I found out something else,” I said.

“What?”

“Linda didn’t throw out Kelly’s journals after all. She still has them. She said she took them thinking Kelly might have written something about her affair with Wolfgang. Linda said she was only curious, wanted to find out what had been going on and for how long. But I think she was worried I would eventually look through them and blame Wolfgang for what happened to Kelly.”

“Yes, sounds about right.”

“Where’s Nate?” I asked.

“Up with the rest of them. He wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

I heard a rising swell of oohs as the crowd parted to allow the men hoisting the body bag access to the waiting coroner’s van. They placed the body inside, slammed the doors. With an earsplitting shriek, police cars parted the crowd and slowly escorted the van out of the area.

The remaining cops began dispersing the crowd, which drifted farther back, but refused to leave entirely, instead morphing into smaller, quieter groups.

I was about to say something to Caroline, when a sudden blinding flash stopped me, followed by a series of camera clicks and flashes as other reporters followed suit. A large-eyed woman with wind-tousled hair stuck a microphone under my chin.

“Ms. Sanders, a few questions please. Did you know the victim personally? How did you get word the body was buried on your property? Is it true you received an anonymous tip from a friend of the deceased?”

Caroline stepped in front of me. “Hey, leave her alone. She’s not talking now. She doesn’t know the guy. Doesn’t know him at all.”

Now the reporters swarmed over Caroline. “So the deceased is male? Can you give us a name? A name? How old was he? Can you give us any idea how long he’s been buried here on the property? Did he know the accused, Craig Foster?”

“We don’t know anything,” said Caroline. “Now that’s enough. Let us through.”

Nate noticed the commotion and hurried to our aid. “Okay, back off, people. You’ll get an official statement soon enough. Give the ladies some breathing room.” He ushered us forward toward the house. Camera flashes followed until we’d closed the door in their faces.

“Sorry about that,” Nate said. “I should have warned you they’d be on you like dogs on a scent. It’s amazing how fast they figure out who’s who.”

“Whew,” said Caroline, “don’t think I’d like being famous all that much.”

He laughed. “Are you two okay?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Sure,” said Caroline. “You find out anything yet?”

“We have an idea about him, just need to confirm his identity. He wasn’t reported missing, a drifter mostly, but we’re thinking Gwyn’s sister will be correct as to the time of death and the details surrounding it. I’m guessing this guy may have known Craig a while before, then hooked up with him here in Glenwood.”

“Will Craig confess to it?” I asked.

“Possibly, if his lawyer thinks he can get something for his client. But don’t worry. Whether Foster confesses to this one or not, once he’s sentenced, he won’t be going anywhere outside some very solid walls.”

I watched as Trevor came in the front door, finished with shoveling the morning’s new load of snow from the porch. He stomped his snowy boots in the doorway.

“Trevor?”

“What?” He ambled over to me in socked feet. “Did you say something?”

“I need to talk to you. It’s kind of important.”

“Sure, hon, what is it?”

“Maybe you should sit down first.” I patted a spot next to me on the couch.

“Oh, don’t like the sound of that.” He knitted his brows in question.

“First of all, let me say that I do love you, very much. I have from the beginning. I know you love me too, but I also know we’ve been having some problems. A lot of it’s my fault. I do take responsibility for that. But not for everything.”