Page 15 of Memory of Murder
“You should make time for yourself.”
With that profound statement, he moved on to the next room. Anne followed, pondering the idea that maybe he was right.
The one bathroom was miniscule. Typical three-piece, sink, tub and toilet, and seriously dusty. Shampoo and soap as well as a razor and aftershave remained.
The kitchen was another small space, shoehorned between the side of the house that was bedrooms and the larger room up front that was the living room. Jack looked through the cabinets and in the fridge and oven. The man was thorough for sure.
Anne lingered at the fridge and studied the small photos peppering the surface. Most were held against the appliance with magnets of various shapes and colors. One magnet was a back-to-school shout-out. Another was an apple with a pencil next to it. But it was the photos that tugged at her senses.
Another smaller version of the eight-by-ten on the wall in the living room. Other candid shots of Mary with her friends. Anne recognized Eve and Carin in two of the photos. Their faces and hairstyles were the same as the photo in the locket. Anne decided those were going with her. One by one she removed the photos from beneath the magnets. She tucked them into her shoulder bag. When they interviewed Mr. Reed, she would offer them to the man. If he didn’t seem to care about them, Anne would keep them. Surely he cared since the house remained standing. But if he didn’t take action eventually, the house would likely be torn down. Maybe that was his intention after all this time.
Putting thoughts of him out of her mind, she considered all that she had seen. Overall, she imagined that thirty or more years ago the little house would have been considered a nice starter home. Good bones and all the necessary options. But now, like the rest of Mary Morton’s existence, it was disintegrating. The thought made Anne sad on some level beyond her control. No matter that she hadn’t known the woman… Mary had been her mother.
From there they locked the front door and went out the back. The stoop and its two steps were far ricketier than the front porch and steps. There wasn’t a lot to see out back beyond the thick greenery and knee-deep grass. Jack cut through the heavyovergrowth and went inside the detached shed-style garage. It wasn’t large enough for today’s SUVs or trucks. Absolutely tiny by today’s standards.
He came out swiping at a spiderweb he’d walked through.
“Anything?” Anne already knew the answer.
He shook his head.
She turned and stared at the house once more. This was where the couple had, from all accounts, been happy. No one had seen the trouble coming—according to the documentary she had watched. Had Mary hurried home to this place each day after school to prepare dinner for her soon-to-be husband? Had they made love on that double bed and conceived a child in that same room? It would seem so.
But then, if this was home to the fairy tale, what went wrong?
Why shoot and kill the man she loved? The father of her child?
Unfortunately, it was very possible that Anne would never know the answers to those questions. But she intended to give it this one shot. Her gaze lit on Jack. He had insisted he could find the answers.
Would those answers be the ones she wanted to hear?
Anne shook her head. Funny, the end result suddenly mattered in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
Chapter Seven
Crystal Lake
Judith’s Cocktail Lounge
Williams Street, 2:30 p.m.
Judith’s Cocktail Lounge was quite an upscale place, with soft music playing from hidden speakers and tables tucked in cozy niches as well as a bar that offered more seating. The elegant menu offered “small plates” of international appetizers and entrees that smelled as wonderful as they looked. The accompanying menu photos showed the entrees artistically arranged on pure white plates. As a designer, Anne appreciated the pleasing visuals.
She had not realized she was starving until the charcuterie board for two was placed on the table. Once she started eating, any talk had to wait. By the time the wooden board was bare, Anne was utterly stuffed. She sipped her lemon water and finally allowed her mind to replay the tour through the cottage on Fairlawn Drive.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the photos she’d taken from the fridge door. After pushing the board aside, she spread the photos in front of her like a deck of tarot cards. Somehow the images in the photos were every bit as ominous. She tapped the one photo that showed all three of the female friends. “This is the same photo that’s in the locket.”
Jack nodded. Then he flashed Anne a wide grin. “Look around. That was taken here.” He pointed to the elegant bar. “Right there.”
She looked from the bar to the photo and nodded. “You’re right. Is that why you suggested this place?” She studied the photo again and then surveyed the intimate cocktail bar with new interest.
Jack followed her gaze, taking in the details as well. “It is. The place had a different name then.” He shifted his attention to Anne. “She mentioned—in the journal—coming here once a week after school for a girls’ night out.”
Anne hadn’t made the connection considering the new name. “With the headline change,” she pointed out, “it’s likely under new ownership.”
Before he could comment, the waitress paused at their table. “Would you care for a cocktail or coffee?”
Anne smiled. “I’m good—thank you.”
