The Fortieth Birthday Body Page 5

  “Now, I’m sure that’s not true,” Kathleen protested.

  “So you say, but believe me it is. Oh well, I suppose everyone has their faults: If Arthur’s buying forty-thousand-dollar cars that’s not the worst thing he could do.”

  “Yes,” Kathleen agreed.

  “Everyone to the garage,” Chrissy said as she swept by. They saw that Chad was giving the same message to everyone else, and followed the crowd out through the den and into the small mudroom that led to the door connecting the house and the garage. Susan and Jed were the last to arrive.

  The space, meant to house three cars, was empty except for a large tarpaulin-covered object in the middle of the floor. A bright red bow perched on the top suggested it was a gift; by its shape and location, it had to be a car. “Happy birthday, hon.” Jed, his arm around her shoulders, beamed.

  Susan, truly surprised, smiled back.

  “Aren’t you going to look under the tarp?” someone suggested from the other side of the room.

  Feeling foolish, Susan walked hesitantly toward her gift.

  “Come on, hon,” her husband urged.

  She pulled the side of the plastic up over the back of the car. As the bumper was revealed, her smile became a bit fixed. Pulling the tarp up across the bumper, her first impression was verified: It was a Volvo and it was gray. The big expensive sedan, and a shiny metallic gray, but a gray Volvo nonetheless.

  “I wanted Dad to buy her a Maserati, even the 425i sedan if he didn’t like the Spyder, but he said, ‘No, Chad, your mother has a Volvo type of personality,’ ” she heard her son explaining.

  “Beautiful, discreet color,” was someone else’s assessment.

  “I wish John would spend some money on me,” came a voice behind her as she continued to reveal the car. The large bow was around the front seat doors, so the car was left with both ends exposed and its midsection covered.

  “Let me help you, honey,” Jed offered happily.

  Susan, speechless, nodded at him, but he was already cutting the ribbon with the Swiss Army knife he always carried. “There!” He stood back proudly as the ribbon fell to the floor and with it the tarpaulin.

  It was a gray 740 turbocharged Volvo, fully equipped with air-conditioning, electric door locks, a burglar alarm, a tinted sunroof, a stereo AM/FM radio, a tape deck, and a built-in compact disk player.

  Sitting in the driver’s seat was Dawn Elliot. And she was dead.

  V

  “And I thought that the only thing I was going to have to worry about was if the caterers would show up on time.”

  Kathleen stopped pacing the floor long enough to look at her friend.

  “How long are they going to hold us all here?” Jed asked now that he had her attention.

  “Technically, they’re not holding us,” Kathleen corrected, her eleven years as a police officer making her knowledgeable. “They’ve just asked us down to the station to make our statements.”

  “Why couldn’t they do this back at the house?” Jed asked. “This seems a little odd. I can’t imagine what everyone thought.”

  “At least they followed your suggestion and interviewed the guests first,” Kathleen said. “There’s been an unexplained and violent death. A body appeared on your property. The police could have done most anything. I think that their decision to allow everyone to come down here to make statements was very humane.”

  “And gives them time to go through my house without interference,” Jed said ruefully.

  “That’s true,” she acknowledged. “But they haven’t done anything out of line. And I think they’ve been pretty considerate of Susan.”

  Everyone in the room looked over at Susan at this mention of her name. She was sitting near a window, staring out, saying nothing.

  “Who called the police?” Jed asked, to draw the attention away from his wife.

  “I did.”

  “Of course, Kathleen. I should have realized that you were the only person who would have had the presence of mind under the circumstances.”

  “Well, I think someone else would have thought of it pretty quickly.”

  Her husband got up from his uncomfortable folding chair and walked over to a window on the opposite side of the room from Susan. “There don’t seem to be any cars left in the lot. I think they’ve questioned everyone but us.”

  “You know,” Jed began, joining him, “I don’t understand why they let us all drive here. Didn’t they think that the killer would get rid of the weapon during the trip?”

  “Why do you rule out suicide?” Jerry asked.

  “No weapon in the car. And it was pretty obvious that she’d been shot. If you kill yourself you don’t have time to get rid of the weapon.”

  “There’s been a lot of time to get rid of this weapon,” Kathleen contradicted him. “That woman wasn’t shot recently. I’d say it’s been a couple of hours at least—maybe more. Anyone trained would see that. The police aren’t concerned with weapon disposal—it’s been done by now.”

  “Then, if the killing didn’t take place at the party, why detain all the guests until questioned? Wait a minute. She couldn’t have been dead in that car for very long. I drove that car into the driveway before breakfast this morning myself. I was tired, but I’d have noticed if I’d been sharing the driver’s seat with a dead woman. Believe me.”

  “I do,” Susan whispered from the other side of the room.

  No one heard her.

  “The police had to question the guests. She wasn’t killed in the car. But she was put into the car by someone who knew that the tarpaulin and ribbon were going to come off during the party—someone who planned that she would be found like she was. They need to know who that person is and if it’s the same person who killed her,” Kathleen said. “When did you put the car in the garage, Jed?”

  “Before breakfast this morning. I picked it up at the dealer’s last night and parked it overnight in the Hallards’ garage next door. Then, this morning while the kids were feeding Susan breakfast in bed, I pulled the Mercedes and Susan’s old Datsun out of the garage and drove the new Volvo in. I left the Mercedes in the driveway for us to take to the shore and put the Datsun back in Dan’s garage. Their car was stolen in the city last week so they have an extra parking place.”

  “Did you cover it with the tarpaulin and the bow right away?” Kathleen continued.

  “No. I did that tonight while Susan was showering. I didn’t search the whole car, but I’m sure I would have noticed a dead body in the front seat! It wasn’t there then, believe me. I wouldn’t give Susan a car containing a dead body for her birthday intentionally, you know.”

  “I know.” Susan whispered again. This time Kathleen heard her.

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t, Jed,” Kathleen assured him, glancing at Susan. “Do you think we should leave her alone?” she continued in a whisper.

  “Every time I go over she asks to be alone.” The reply was also quiet. “Look, maybe she just doesn’t want to see me. When the police come back, I’ll ask if I can be questioned first. Will you see if she’ll talk to you then? I hate to see her like this. And I don’t know what to do.”

  Kathleen was perplexed by Susan’s rejection of her husband during this crisis. It didn’t seem typical of their relationship. But she agreed to his request. “I think they will want to see you and Susan last,” she suggested. “This did all happen at your house—finding the body, if not the murder—and they’re going to be most interested in the two of you, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll tell them how upset she is,” Jed said. “Maybe they’ll understand.”

  They may have understood, but, apparently unwilling to change their plans, Jed and Susan were the last questioned.

  “Susan?” Jed could no longer leave her be when they were alone together; Jerry being in with the police, while Kathleen had already been questioned. “Honey? I’m sure sorry this had to happen on your birthday.” He pulled another chair over to her and sat down. “I …
I don’t know what to say.”

  Susan could hear that he was near tears. She took a deep breath and turned from the window toward him. “I know this isn’t your fault,” she assured him, tears in her own eyes. She took his left hand in hers. “It really was a wonderful party, Jed. I know how hard you must have worked.” She broke off, unable to continue. Her husband pulled her head against his shoulder, hiding his own face in her hair. They remained like that until the police came for them.

  “Mrs. Henshaw?”

  As Susan moved to respond, her husband instinctively pulled her to him. “Are you okay, honey? Can you go through with this?”

  “I’m okay. I just want to get this over with. Don’t worry.”

  “She’ll be fine, Mr. Henshaw. We just need to get some preliminary information,” the officer who had been coming in and out all evening reassured him. “You’ll both be able to go home soon.”

  But things didn’t seem quite so optimistic to Susan when she sat down in the room where her guests had been questioned previously. A very impatient duo of uniformed officers stood on either side of her, alternating turns firing off questions. And they didn’t appear happy with her answers.

  “So you didn’t know you were getting the car for your birthday?”

  “No.”

  “But you did know that you were going to have a … uh, surprise party?”

  “Yes. I told you that. Kathleen Gordon let it slip a few days ago. You’ve already questioned her. She must have told you about it.”

  “When did you first see the body?”

  “When I uncovered the car. That is, when Jed cut the ribbon for me and I pulled the middle of the tarpaulin from the top of the car.”

  “And you recognized the body immediately?”

  “I didn’t know she was dead right away.” Susan hesitated over this answer.

  “But you knew that it was Dawn Elliot right away?”

  “Oh, yes. I knew that.”

  “You’ve seen her recently during her visit to town?”

  “No. It’s been years—three or more—since I saw her last.”

  “But you recognized her right away?”

  “Yes.”

  “She was a good friend of yours?”

  “No. Just a neighbor. She used to live around the corner from us.”

  “But you recognized her pretty quickly after not seeing her for a long time.”

  “Dawn is … was … a very … uh … remarkable-looking woman. It wasn’t hard to recognize her. I think everyone did. Didn’t they?”

  Her question wasn’t answered.

  “Can you tell us anything else that might be relevant to our investigation of her murder?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll question your husband. Right after that you’ll probably be able to go home, Mrs. Henshaw. If you’ll just wait for him in the lobby.”

  It didn’t take very long for Jed’s interrogation, at least no longer than hers, but to Susan, with that ‘probably’ ringing in her ears, it seemed a decade. And then she remembered her children. The door that led to the room where Jed was being questioned was still closed, but she ran up and pounded her fist against it.

  “Hey, you can’t do that.” The sleepy-looking redhead who had been sitting idly behind a desk in the corner of the room protested her action.

  “I have to talk to those men in there. I have to find out what happened to my children.” Susan rushed from the door over to where the woman sat.

  “Chrissy and Chad?” the woman asked, brushing her hair back out of her eyes.

  “Yes! Yes … how do you know their names? Where are they? They’re not here, are they?” Susan slammed her hands on the desk, demanding an answer.

  “Hey, lady, I’m not a cop, but I’m official, if you know what I mean, and you better respect me. Get your hands off my desk, if you please.” She stood up, revealing a chunky figure stretching against the seams of her uniform.

  Susan, realizing her mistake, moved away quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m just upset. Do you know where my children are? Chrissy. And Chad,” she reminded her of their names.

  “Okay. They’re your kids and you’re upset. I understand. We get a lot of weird people in here, you know.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Susan replied, clasping her hands behind her back and reminding herself to be patient. “You do know where my children are,” she said, hoping the information arrived before she started screaming.

  “Yes. They’re at the house of a Doctor Dan Hallard. He lives at …”

  “Thank you. I know the address. He’s my next-door neighbor.”

  “Susan!” Her husband joined her in front of the desk. “It’s all over, honey. We can go home.”

  “Well, it’s not really all over, Mr. Henshaw.” The officer who had come from the interrogation room behind Jed corrected him. “But we’ve removed the body and searched your home. I don’t think we’ll have to bother you anymore until tomorrow. I wouldn’t worry too much about this, if I were you,” he added, leading them to the door. “Officer Barnes will drive you both home. Good night.”

  Susan walked out into the chilly March night air, and pulled her coat closer around her.

  “Oh, Mrs. Henshaw!” a voice behind her called out.

  Susan turned as the officer’s head reappeared in the light over the door. “Happy birthday,” he called out.

  FORTY PLUS ONE DAY

  I

  “He really said that? He really wished you a happy birthday?”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t believe it myself when I heard it, but that’s what happened,” Susan insisted, taking a deep breath and trying to find spring scents in the chilly air.

  “Idiot!” Kathleen condemned him in absentia. “Must have been just what you needed. So how are the kids taking it all?”

  “They’re confused. They were both awake when we got home last night and that was well after one. And neither of them slept late this morning. Chrissy’s friends have been calling since seven a.m. Heaven knows what they’re hearing from their parents. Jed finally asked her not to talk about it on the phone. I thought she would blow up, but I think she was relieved to have an excuse to hang up. Chad was up in his room all morning, rearranging car posters on his walls. Jed helped him for a while; he was trying to give Chad an opportunity to talk about everything that’s happened. And now Jed’s taking both kids out to lunch at the diner. They all love it there. We’re trying to keep things as normal as possible and that’s hard with the phone ringing every few seconds.”

  “You’re good parents.”

  Susan shrugged. “We try. And then something comes up like last night and we don’t have any idea how to respond. Too much of parenting is just winging it.” She bent over to pull up a piece of onion grass before continuing. “Let’s go down to the stream. I want to see if the snowdrops are up.”

  The two women, who had been strolling from Kathleen’s car around to the back of the Henshaw home, turned down the brick path to the stream at the end of the property.

  “Snowdrops?”

  “Uh-huh. I planted them years ago, when we first moved in. They’re near the spot where the lilies come up in the early summer. Anyway, they usually bloom by my birthday. Yesterday I was too busy to look and, with that storm earlier this week … There they are! Look!”

  “Susan! They’re beautiful!”

  “They are, aren’t they?”

  There were hundreds of tiny white caps spiking up through green foliage. They surrounded the willows and spilled down over the bank to the water. Susan and Kathleen stood silent, staring at them.

  “I think I love them because they’re so early. They come up in the snow and the mud and the misery of March and promise that spring really is going to come despite all evidence to the contrary,” Susan said. There was an old wooden bench near the water and she pointed to it. “Want to sit down, or is it too cold for you?”

  “No. I’m fine. Let’s sit,” Kathleen replied. “You know, this reall
y is fantastic.” She motioned to the flowers. “How many bulbs did you plant?”

  “A hundred. And it took forever. We had just moved in and I wanted to do some gardening, but Jed had plans for formal flower beds in the backyard and wanted to work everything out on paper. But he didn’t care about the land back here so I went down to that big nursery on the highway and bought a hundred snowdrop bulbs. I really didn’t know what to buy, but when I saw all the bins of bulbs with their glossy pictures of daffodils and tulips, they reminded me of the flowers at the florists in the city. I wanted something that was definitely country and so I bought these.

  “Planting them was a real thrill. Of course, it had to be done in the fall and it was chilly. Chrissy must have been four then and she ran all over the place and kept slipping on the leaves into the stream and I was sure she was going to catch pneumonia. And I was pregnant with Chad and bending over was uncomfortable. But I’ve never regretted a minute of it.”

  “It was worth it. This really is wonderful … almost magical,” Kathleen agreed, looking around.

  “Jed had an affair with her.” Susan made the statement and then bent over and picked a stray flower growing near her foot.

  “Jed … What?” Kathleen’s voice betrayed her shock.

  “Jed had an affair with Dawn Elliot.” Susan didn’t look up, seeming to concentrate on the tiny flower she was shredding with the tips of her nails.

  “Susan.” Kathleen didn’t know what to say. She reached over and put her hand on her friend’s arm.

  Susan threw down the petal pieces and looked up, tears in the corners of her eyes, “I’m forty years old and it was my party and I can’t believe this is happening,” she said and, covering her face with her hands, she began to cry.

  Kathleen let her. She had seen enough tragedy and grief in her years as a policewoman to know that sometimes the tears had to be released first. So she waited.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” was Susan’s only comment.

  “Why do you have to do anything?”

  “What?” For the first time since her revelation, Susan looked up at her friend.