"Did Jill ever mention anything to you that might have given you a hint as to who might have done this to them?"
"I thought about that, studied the matter closely after it happened. When I read about it in the papers, I could not believe it. I had just seen Jill three days before. I can't tell you how hard I concentrated on everything she had ever said to me. I hoped I would recall something, any detail that might help. But I never have."
"Both of them hid their relationship from the world?"
"Yes."
"What about a boyfriend, someone Jill or Elizabeth dated from time to time? For appearances?"
"Neither dated, I was told. Not a jealousy situation, therefore, unless there was something I did not know."
She glanced at my empty bowl. "More chili?"
"I couldn't."
She got up to load the dishwasher. For a while we did not speak. Anna untied her apron and hung it on a hook inside the broom closet. Then we carried our glasses and the bottle of wine into her den.
It was my favorite room. Shelves of books filled two walls, a third centered by a bay window through which she could monitor from her cluttered desk flowers budding or snow falling over her small backyard. From that window I had watched magnolias bloom in a fanfare of lemony white, I had watched the last bright sparks of autumn fade. We had talked about my family, my divorce, and Mark. We had talked about suffering and we had talked about death. From the worn leather wing chair where I sat, I had awkwardly led Anna through my life, just as Jill Harrington had done.
They had been lovers. This linked them to the other murdered couples and made the "Mr. Goodbar" theory that much more implausible, and I pointed this out to Anna.
"I agree with you," she said.
"They were last seen in the Anchor Bar and Grill. Did Jill ever mention this place to you?"
"Not by name. But she mentioned a bar they occasionally went to, a place where they talked. Sometimes they went to out-of-the-way restaurants where people would not know them. Sometimes they went on drives. Generally, these excursions occurred when they were in the midst of emotionally charged discussions about their relationship."
"If they were having one of these discussions that Friday night at the Anchor, they were probably upset, one or the other possibly feeling rejected, angry," I said. "Is it possible either Jill or Elizabeth might have gone through the motions of picking up a man, flirting, to jerk the other around?"
"I can't say that's impossible," Anna said. "But it would surprise me a great deal. I never got the impression that Jill or Elizabeth played games with each other. I'm more inclined to suspect that when they were talking that night, the conversation was very intense and they were probably unaware of their surroundings, focused only on each other."
"Anyone observing them might have overheard."
"That is the risk if one has personal discussions in public, and I had mentioned this to Jill."
"If she were so paranoid about anyone suspecting, then why did she take the risk?"
"Her resolve was not strong, Kay."
Anna reached for her wine. "When she and Elizabeth were alone, it was too easy to slip back into intimacy. Hugging, comforting, crying, and no decisions were made."
That sounded familiar. When Mark and I had discussions either at his place or mine, inevitably we ended up in bed. Afterward, one of us would leave, and the problems were still there.
"Anna, did you ever consider that their relationship might have been connected to what happened to them?"
I asked.
"If anything, their relationship made it seem all the more unusual. I should think that a woman alone in a bar looking to be picked up is in much greater danger than two women together who are not interested in drawing attention to themselves."
"Let's return to the subject of their habits and routines," I said.
"They lived in the same apartment complex but did not live together, and again, this was for the sake of appearances. But it was convenient. They could lead their separate lives, and then get together late at night at Jill's apartment. Jill preferred to be in her own place. I remember her telling me that if her family or other people repeatedly tried to call her late at night and she was never home, there would have been questions."
She paused, thinking. "Jill and Elizabeth also exercised, were very fit. Running, I think, but they didn't always do this together."
"Where did they run?"
"I believe there was a park near where they lived."
"Anything else? Theaters, shops, malls they may have frequented?"
"Nothing comes to mind."
"What does your intuition tell you? What did it tell you at the time?"
"I felt that Jill and Elizabeth were having a stressful conversation in the bar. They probably wanted to be left alone and would have resented an intrusion."
"Then what?"
"Clearly they encountered their killer at some point that evening."
"Can you imagine how that might have happened?"
"It has always been my opinion it was someone they knew, or at least were well enough acquainted with so that they had no reason not to trust him. Unless they were abducted at gunpoint by one or more persons, either in the bar's parking lot or somewhere else they might have gone."
"What if a stranger had approached them in the bar's parking lot, asked them for a lift somewhere, claimed to have car trouble…?"
She was already shaking her head. "It is inconsistent with my impressions of them. Again, unless it was someone with whom they were acquainted."
"And if the killer was impersonating a police officer, perhaps pulled them over for a routine traffic stop?"
"That's another matter. I suppose even you and I might be vulnerable to that."
Anna was looking tired, so I thanked her for dinner and her time. I knew our conversation was difficult for her. I wondered how I would feel were I in her position.
Minutes after I walked through my front door, the phone rang.
"One last thing that I remember but probably does not matter," Anna said. "Jill mentioned something about the two of them working crossword puzzles when they wanted to stay in, just the two of them, on Sunday mornings, for example. Insignificant, perhaps. But a routine, something they did together."
"A book of puzzles? Or the ones in the newspapers?"
"I don't know. But Jill did read a variety of newspapers, Kay. She usually had something with her to read while waiting for her appointment. The Wall Street Journal, the Washington Post."
I thanked her again and said next time it was my turn o cook. Then I called Marino.
"Two women were murdered in James City County eight years ago," I went straight to the point. "It's possible there's a connection. Do you know Detective Montana out there?"
"Yeah. I've met him."
"We need to get with him, review the cases. Can he keep his mouth shut?"
"Hell if I know," Marino said.
Montana looked like his name, big, rawboned, with hazy blue eyes set in a rugged, honest face topped by thick gray hair. His accent was that of a native Virginian, his conversation peppered with "yes, ma am's. The following afternoon he, Marino, and I met at my home, where we were ensured privacy and no interruptions.
Montana must have depleted his annual film budget on Jill and Elizabeth's case, for covering my kitchen table were photographs of their bodies at the scene, the Volkswagen abandoned at the Palm Leaf Motel, the Anchor Bar and Grill, and, remarkably, of every room inside the women's apartments, including pantries and closets. He had a briefcase bulging with notes, maps, interview transcriptions, diagrams, evidence inventories, logs of telephone tips. There is something to be said for detectives who rarely have homicides in their jurisdictions. Cases like these come along once or twice in their careers, and they work them meticulously.