“Had there been any strange calls to the house?” Seley asked. “Was he acting secretive?”
Barbie Duffy rolled her eyes. “Do you know how many people have asked me these questions in the last two and a half decades?” she asked impatiently, checking her watch. “You have to have all these answers in a file somewhere.”
“Yes, but see, we’re here right now,” Nikki said. “So we can ask you in person, and that’s always better. You might arch an eyebrow, or tip your chin, or look down to the left, and all of that means something.”
“That sounds like you think I’m a suspect.”
“Why would we think that? You were at the supermarket when it happened.”
“There were people who found it suspicious that Big Duff and I ended up together,” she said. “You probably do, too. Some people thought we must have conspired to kill Ted so we could be together.”
“Did you?” Nikki asked, just to see her response.
She didn’t bite.
“Of course not. We didn’t even like each other before Ted died.”
“You’ve been married a long time,” Seley said.
“Yes. That all seems like a lifetime ago. I guess it was,” she said quietly as she glanced at her watch again. Then she took a deep breath to conjure up more energy. “Anyway, I was at the supermarket buying cranberry sauce, and Big Duff was in Wisconsin, so no, we didn’t kill Ted.”
“We’ll need to speak with your kids,” Nikki said, knowing they were running out of time.
“They won’t have anything to say that they haven’t already said. They were little then—five, seven, and nine.”
“Still, we’ll need contact info.”
Barbie Duffy huffed a sigh. “They’ve lived their whole lives with this investigation. The children of a murdered cop. Jennifer had to see a therapist off and on for years, she was so traumatized by the aftermath of Ted’s death. Thank God for insurance.”
“And you had a couple of foster kids living with you at the time?”
“Yes,” she said coolly. “I’m sure you have their names somewhere. They’re probably in jail or dead.”
“They were difficult?”
“They were teenage girls from broken homes with drug-addicted mothers and their mothers’ abusive boyfriends. They had a lot of issues. I sent them back after Ted was killed. I had enough to deal with. I couldn’t cope with their problems, too.”
“Your neighbor made a comment to us about the girls being”—she looked to Seley—“what’s the word he used?”
“Tarts.”
“Tarts.”
“What neighbor said that?”
“Donald Nilsen.”
Barbie Duffy rolled her eyes. “Dirty old man. Maybe he should have spent less time looking in our windows and more time minding his own damn business.”
“Do you mean that literally?” Seley asked. “He was looking in your windows?”
“He would complain to Ted about the way the girls dressed. Their shorts were too short. Their skirts were too short. Their tops were too short. He was worried they would tempt his perfect son. It was like living next door to the Taliban. Ted told him to stop staring at the crotches of teenage girls or someone might get the wrong idea and call the cops on him.”
“How did Nilsen react to that?”
“He blew a gasket, but he didn’t complain again after that.”
“What was the son like?”
“He was quiet. He minded his own business—unlike his father. He mowed our lawn in the summer and shoveled the sidewalk in the winter. He never said anything more than ‘yes, ma’am,’ ‘no, ma’am,’ and ‘thank you, ma’am.’ I found him a little odd, but why wouldn’t he be, with those parents?”
“Was he ‘distracted’ by the girls?”
“Not that I ever noticed. He mostly looked at the ground.”
“Do you know how he died?”
“He died? I had no idea. It must have been after we moved away. I remember him giving his condolences at the funeral.”
“There must have been a thousand people at that funeral,” Nikki remarked.
“Yes, there were. But I remember because his father wasn’t there. The son and the mother came.”
“What about Nilsen’s wife?” Nikki asked. “Did you know her?”
“Not really. I had a job and five kids. I didn’t have time for coffee with the housewife next door. I hardly ever saw her. What difference does it make, anyway?” she asked, glancing at her watch again. “Do you think Susie Homemaker killed Ted?”
“Just getting a feel for the neighborhood,” Nikki said. “So you didn’t keep in touch with her after she left the husband?”
“I didn’t even know that she left the husband,” she said, standing up. “Good for her. And speaking of leaving, I have to go. I’m going to be late.”
“I’ll have more questions,” Nikki said, following her to the front door.
“I’m sure you will,” she said, opening the door to show them out. “But don’t be surprised if I’m difficult to contact. I’ve moved on with my life. It’s time the police department does, too. What’s done is done.”
*