“How’d she dispatch him the second time around?”
“Well, that was the problem, wasn’t it? She couldn’t reject him outright without setting him off. He’d have turned into a python and squeezed the life out of her. She told him a relationship was out of the question. Never happen in a million years. She was happily married and so was he.”
“Was he happily married?”
“No, but it wasn’t her lookout. She was skirting the truth, but what else could she say?”
“I got the impression Lenore was teetering on the brink by then.”
“If she was, Ned drove her to it. I know Shirley Ann felt bad when she heard, you know, what Lenore did. Like if she’d been nicer to him, he wouldn’t have been so mean to his wife.”
“When you found out Lenore killed herself, did you question the story?”
“I didn’t know her well enough to form a strong opinion. I can see where it was the answer to Ned’s prayers. He was suddenly a free man, and wasn’t that convenient? Didn’t cut any ice with Shirley Ann. He’d always be a creep as far as she was concerned.”
“She’s still living back east?”
“She is.”
“Do you have a phone number for her?”
“I don’t, but Jessica does. If you’re interested in talking to her, I’d be happy to call first and tell her what this is about. That way you wouldn’t have to go through some long-drawn-out explanation.”
“I would love that. I’m hoping it won’t be necessary, but I’d like the option,” I said.
I went on to quiz her on a minor point or two, but essentially she’d given me the gist. I took down her phone number in case I had questions later and then gave her one of my business cards. “If Shirley Ann would prefer to have me call her, just let me know.”
“Sure thing.”
“Meanwhile, if you don’t mind my saying so, your life turned out great.”
She looked around with satisfaction. “It did, didn’t it? Trick is to figure out what you want and set your mind to it.”
“How’d you go about it?”
“You might not believe this, but I’m a maverick at heart. Born and raised Catholic, but when I finally decided to get married, I found me a nice Jewish boy. Everybody thought I’d turned hippie because I kept my maiden name instead of taking his. Both our mothers had conniption fits, but so what? The two of us are so stubborn, neither one of us will convert.”
“Where’d you meet him?”
“Ten-year high school reunion. I’d known him since grade school. You have no idea how cute he is. I can’t believe I didn’t see it at the time.”
“A classmate. That’s perfect.”
“You bet. Little Bobby Fried. He was always the better of the two.”
Marsha Heddon followed me out the front door and stood on the porch fanning herself while I returned to my car. I fired up the engine and drove off, keeping an eye on her in the rearview mirror until I turned the corner and lost sight of her. Two blocks farther on, I pulled over to the curb and shut the engine down. It was time to take stock.
I’d been following much the same path Pete had taken, though he’d been operating on another plan: running a background check on Ned Lowe, or such was the claim. I assumed he was tracking Ned’s family of origin in hopes of confirming or debunking rumors of his pathology. The only suggestion I’d heard on that score came from Taryn Sizemore, whose opinion was colored by her history with him. I was willing to believe he was strange, but I had no proof he’d broken into Ruthie’s house or my office. In the meantime, it was my job to place Lenore’s Bible and her rosary in her daughter’s hands.
I left Burning Oaks at 4:00. I made good time. The back roads were more appealing as the March light waned. I passed the farm stand where I’d purchased asparagus, but neither the old fellow nor his daughter was there. I didn’t look directly at the parched fields and I avoided the sight of the riverbed, which was dry as a bone. I was still rejoicing at my good fortune at having wrapped up the day’s work without having to spend another night away from home. If Clara Doyle remembered to pass my phone number along to Stanley Munce, it would be well worth the time and energy.
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