Page 25 of Memory of Murder
Maybe she was getting attached—or at least accustomed—to the idea.
The older woman pressed her hand to her chest now. “I was so sorry to hear that she passed.” She smiled sadly. “I wrote to her every month all these years.” She shrugged. “Even though she never wrote me back, I felt it was the least I could do considering everyone else had turned on her.”
The relief on Anne’s face was palpable. “Would you have a few minutes for us to ask some questions about Mary and the time surrounding…what happened?”
“Of course.” Farrell drew the door open wider. “Come in.”
Jack followed Anne, then closed the door since Farrell was busy explaining how her husband had passed away last year and now it was just her.
He followed the two to the kitchen, where Farrell insisted on putting on a pot of tea. The house was a typical ranch style. A good-sized yard surrounded it, all enclosed with an aged picket fence. A gray cat appeared, rubbed against its master’s legs and then eyed Jack suspiciously before disappearing.
“Sit at the table with me.” Farrell ushered them to the dining table.
The kitchen-dining combo was just off the living room. You could actually see both the front and back doors from the table.
“I have lots of questions for you,” Farrell said to Anne, “but you go first. I’m sure yours are far more important than mine.”
“Thank you.” Anne accepted a cup of tea from their host.
“Would you like cream or sugar?” Farrell asked.
“No, thank you.” Anne cradled the fragile cup in both hands as if she needed the warmth.
Farrell looked to Jack. “The same for me.”
When the lady had poured a cup for Jack and then one for herself, she turned back to Anne. “Please, ask away.”
“First,” she began, “you said you wrote to Mary. But she never once wrote you back?”
Farrell shook her head. “No, she didn’t, but I understood. The lack of a response never put me off. I continued to write to her. Usually only a page, but something to let her know I was thinking of her.”
“That was very kind of you. Before the murder, were you aware of any issues between Mary and Neil?”
Farrell shook her head. “Absolutely not. Those two were madly in love. The only time I ever heard her mention being upset with Neil was when he wanted to accept that position with some start-up company.” She frowned, set her cup aside as if holding it splintered her concentration. “They’d just found out about you.” She smiled at Anne. “Mary was worried that some start-up company wouldn’t provide the stability they would need going forward with a baby on the way.”
“Do you remember the name of the company?” Jack asked. There was mention of Neil’s offer from a start-up company, but the journal never mentioned the name.
Farrell appeared to ponder the question for a time. “I can’t… Wait. Bio something, I think. Some sort of medical something.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I swear the memory is the first thing to go once you pass sixty.”
“I feel that way,” Anne said, “and I’m not even thirty.”
“Life is busy,” Farrell said. “Too much on our minds these days.”
“Some have suggested,” Anne went on, “that Neil was cheating on Mary.”
Another firm shake of her head. “Absolutely not. I would have known.” She laughed softly. “I wasn’t Mary’s closest friend, but we teachers spend so much time together discussing students and the headaches and heartaches of being an educator that we’re bound to share personal difficulties. She would have told me. I’m certain. She adored Neil and never spoke negatively of him. Never.”
“Do you,” Jack said, “remember anything at all that gave you pause during the days that led up to the murder?”
Farrell took a moment before she answered. “The only thing I recall is that Mary was furious with her friend Eve—you know, the senator’s wife.” She cringed an unpleasant expression. “Itwas the first time I’d heard Mary sound so put out by her. I think they were friends since childhood.”
“Did she mention any specific trouble?”
Farrell hesitated for five or so seconds but then looked at Anne. “I swore to Mary that I would never tell this.” She sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now that she’s gone.” Farrell tilted her head and frowned. “Not that I would tell a soul except you.”
She inhaled a big breath as if what she had to say was quite the burden. “Mary was looking into how to do a reliable paternity test without Neil knowing anything about it. She couldn’t let him find out.”
Anne drew back as if the woman had slugged her. “What?”
