Page 17 of Memory of Murder
Anne couldn’t help but laugh. Her heart rate had finally started to slow, and she was feeling a little elated. “Any help you can provide with our efforts will be greatly appreciated.”
“Well—” Judith nodded “—I’m more than happy to do so.” She glanced at Jack. “I’m not a big fan of our illustrious senatorand his wife—or his assistant. That said, I was going through a divorce at the time of the murder, so I wasn’t with it and available as much as I might have otherwise been.”
She turned fully to Anne then. “Mary was here every week with her friends. They had dinner and cocktails. Oh, and they laughed.” She sighed, her expression melancholy. “I just don’t understand what happened. Mary loved Neil so much. They came by nearly every weekend and had a cocktail, usually on Saturday evenings before going out to dinner. They always made it a point to say hello if I was here. I just can’t believe…” She shook her head and fell silent.
Anne’s heart was racing again.
Jack leaned in close to Judith. “Don’t worry—we’re going to find the truth.”
Judith smiled at him again. “I cannot wait to watch the fireworks.”
AHALF HOUR LATER, they left the bar. Anne drew in a lungful of air as they walked side by side to his car. Her heart rate had only just fallen back down to normal. Not for a moment had she expected to be so moved…so absorbed in this journey.
“You were amazing back there.” Jack sent her a sideways look. “Talk about getting the grapevine stirred up. I’m certain, as Judith said, fireworks will follow.”
Anne waited while he opened her door. “I don’t know what got into me. I felt like Miss Marple. I just couldn’t slow the momentum.”
She settled into the passenger seat and realized she could not wait to tell Lisa all about the day. As much doubt and uncertainty as she had suffered at the idea of doing this…she was so very glad she’d agreed. There was something here…something that had been rotting away for thirty years…decayingbit by bit. Anne intended to find it before it disappeared completely.
Jack slid behind the steering wheel. “You should watch out. The Colby Agency will be trying to recruit you.”
Anne laughed, and for the first time in too long to remember, it felt deep and real and relaxed.
Maybe this had been a really good idea.
Truly, how was she supposed to move on with her life without settling the past once and for all?
This effort really was essential to her future.
FROM THE OUTERlimits of Crystal Lake where they did a drive-by of the vintage, aka rundown, apartment building where twenty- and thirtysomethings Eve and Kevin had lived, they drove the twenty minutes to Barrington. Senator Kevin Langton and his wife, Eve, currently lived in a fifteen-thousand-square-foot mansion on Plum Tree Road, recently valued at nearly six million dollars. The place looked more like a castle than a home. Although the property was not on the market, there was a listing on Zillow that showed that the estate included a vast thirty-seven acres. There were walking trails and a barn for horses. The lavish details went on and on.
“This is—” Anne stared at the towering gate that fronted the drive leading to the property “—crazy luxurious.”
“Ready to see where the assistant lives?”
Anne had a feeling Carin Carter Wallace’s rise from an administrative assistant in a small-town mayor’s office to where she was now would be equally astonishing. “I can’t wait.”
“Like I said, the apartment building was replaced with a big super store,” he reminded her. “For perspective, the images of the building before demolition were very much like the one where the senator and his wife once lived.”
“I’m amazed at the amount of research you did.” His work put hers to shame.
He glanced at her. “Just doing my job.”
And Anne was pleased that he’d been so very thorough. It hit her then that they really did have a shot at finding the truth.
The drive was only a couple of minutes from Plum Tree Road and onto Rolling Hills Drive in the same high-end community.
Carin Carter Wallace, the senator’s assistant, lived in a far more modern residence consisting of a mere six thousand square feet ensconced on an intimate five acres, valued at just over four million, according to Zillow.
Soaring windows sat in a cutting-edge contemporary design. This home, too, was fronted by a towering gate. Anne wondered if their secrets made them yearn for extra security. But that was petty of her. She didn’t know these people.
“Not too shabby,” Jack commented.
“One of my foster mothers used to say, ‘Pretty is as pretty does.’ Maybe we’ll find out if all this is representative of what’s in their hearts.”
Anne had never been one to judge a book by its cover, but something about these people felt very wrong even if she didn’t know them. Maybe it was the journal and all that it insinuated. But those words could be nothing more than Mary’s bitterness. Time would tell, Anne supposed.
The drive back to the hotel gave Anne time to do a good deal of thinking. The journal suggested that someone close to Mary and Neil was responsible for the murder. At the moment, the big question in Anne’s mind was, Did the astonishing transformation in the lives of those close to Mary and Neil have anything to do with the murder?
