“Yes. Right. I’d … forgotten that. They were so close when they were young. I remember how much I envied that. As they got older, they drifted apart a bit. That’s natural.”
“Did it seem mutual?”
Anna shifted. Sipped her coffee. Even nibbled on a cookie before blurting, “You’re right. I should be honest, and this is just the kind of thing a lawyer could use against Christian, so we need to be prepared. It was Jan who drifted. She was the popular one. Christian was … not popular. Her friends decided he wasn’t cool enough for them. Jan was young. She made mistakes.”
Jan had been a year younger than me when she died. From Anna’s perspective, that now seemed very young, but from mine, it was past the age where you could blame peer pressure for making you avoid your geeky brother.
“And how did Christian feel about the estrangement?” Gabriel asked.
“It hurt him. A lot. For years he tried to get their old relationship back. I always thought that’s why he killed himself. Because he’d lost her for good.”
Gabriel nodded and gave her time to relax before he said, “You know I need to ask about the fight.”
Anna didn’t flinch. Instead, she let out an audible sigh of relief and relaxed back into her seat. “I never understood why Mom and Dad made such a fuss about that. By refusing to tell the police what happened, they made it sound important, and it wasn’t.”
Gabriel waited, his gaze on her until she continued.
“It was about Pete.”
“Peter Evans? Jan’s fiancé?”
“I don’t know if this was in the file,” she said. “The police probably didn’t consider it important. Jan had been engaged to another man before Pete.”
Tim Marlotte. He did have a page in the file, because an estranged fiancé made a good suspect when the victims were his ex and her new boyfriend. Marlotte hadn’t been a serious suspect. Too much time had passed between the breakup and the murders. The cops investigated, though, and found Marlotte had a rock-solid alibi—he’d been at a family dinner, where a dozen people could vouch for him, including his new girlfriend.
“Tim was Christian’s best friend,” Anna said. “The three of them had hung out together since they were kids, and Tim and Jan dated all through college. Then she met Pete. That was tough enough for the family—everyone liked Tim—but combined with the other issue, it made for some serious family drama.”
“Other issue?”
“The age difference.”
“He was younger than Jan,” Gabriel said.
Anna nodded. “Three years. Pete was barely nineteen when they started going out. My parents were embarrassed. His parents weren’t happy. Tim was confused. Christian was upset. No one was pleased.”
“Except Jan and Pete, I presume.”
She wrapped her hands around her mug. “Yes. They were very happy. I look back now and I feel bad for everything we put them through when they were obviously in love. Even I wasn’t nice about it. I think I was jealous. Pete was only two years older than me and he was such a great guy. Tim was nice and sweet, and I’d known him forever, but he and Jan … there weren’t sparks, you know? Maybe it was because they knew each other so long. It was like a comfortable marriage before they even got engaged. They genuinely liked each other but like isn’t enough for a relationship. Jan realized that when she met Pete. She loved him and he loved her back, and I wish we’d all seen that and left them alone.”
“So the fight was about Jan and Pete?”
“Yes. Tim had started seeing a new girl. Christian had still been hoping Jan and Tim would reunite. He found out that Jan had called Tim to say she was happy for him. Christian exploded. He told Jan it was rude and cruel to congratulate Tim on finding a replacement for her. They fought. Christian stormed out. He came back that night after Jan was in bed. They didn’t speak the next day and then…”
And then Jan and Pete were dead.
“So it was nothing,” Anna said. “A family fight. Hardly anything that would make Christian…” She shook her head. “I can’t even say the words.”
After a few more questions, Gabriel wrapped it up. He asked if Anna had any contact with Tim Marlotte. Turned out they still exchanged Christmas cards. She had his number and was happy to ask him to speak to us.
As we left, Gabriel was closing the door and I noticed the welcome sign. Earlier I’d seen only red flowers on it. Now I saw what they were and tried not to stiffen.
“Poppies,” I murmured. “An odd choice for decoration.”
“Why?”
“Do you know what they signify?”
“Opium?”
I shook my head and started down the steps. “Death. Appropriate, I suppose, given all she’s been through.” I tried not to think of her father, of what she’d go through then. “God, I don’t think I said one word in there.”
“You did very well.” He reached into his pocket. “Have a cookie.”
I took it. “I didn’t even see you swipe that,” I said as I circled the front of the car.
“Just like you didn’t see me take Grace’s scone the other day. You need to pay more attention, Olivia. You’re very good at listening. But paying attention is about more than listening.”
“Yes, sir.”
We got into the car.
As he backed out, he checked his watch. “Not yet one o’clock. We can talk on the way back to Cainsville or we can go to lunch.”
“Lunch, please. Keep it under fifty bucks and you can even put it on my tab.”
Gabriel took me to a deli near our highway exit. We ordered at the counter, then took numbers to a table to await our food.
“So now I know why you wanted me to look frumpy,” I said as we sat. “You could have just told me.”
“Could I? Let’s see. I’d say, ‘You need to dress down for the interview today because Anna Gunderson finds me irresistible,’ and you’d say…”
I sputtered a laugh.
He turned a look on me.
“Sorry,” I said. “It was … the way you worded it.”
“I’m sure it was.”
I pulled the paper from my straw. “I was impressed by how you handled it. You knew what she wanted to see, and you pulled it off so well even I was almost convinced.”
“Almost? What gave me away?”
I hesitated.
“Something gave me away. I’d like to know what it is so I can correct the oversight. What was it?”
“Physical contact.”
A lift of his brows.
The server arrived with our sandwiches. I waited until she was gone and said, “When you brushed her hand or touched her arm, it was awkward. That was the only time I could tell it was an act. My advice? Work with it. Start to reach out and then stop yourself. It’ll look like you want to touch her even more than if you actually did.”
He considered. “That might work. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I took a bite of my sandwich. Then I opened my notebook.
“Okay, we have Anna’s story. So what’s your take on it?”
Getting the Story
The journalist spooned through his soup, looking for more meatballs, annoyed by the shortage but really, if he admitted it, annoyed with himself for blowing a story. It’d been an easy assignment. Everyone knew the councillor was a huge fan of the Cubs—or, at least, a huge fan of the player her husband had hired for his car dealership ads. The problem? No one could prove it.
Then the Post got an anonymous tip. The Cub boy toy had checked into a motel and the tipster saw the councillor slip into his room. The journalist got there and staked out the place. Two hours later, he’d heard the roar of the ballplayer’s Porsche peeling from the parking lot, which meant the fifty-year-old councillor must have climbed out the motel window. Hey, she was banging a twenty-six-year-old, so she wasn’t exactly an arthritic old lady. But his editor wasn’t going to buy that. He was in deep shit.