Jolly Dead St. Nicholas (15 page)

Daniel thought for a moment. “Douglas Underwood is an adulterer and liar, but we have no real proof he’s a killer. Ditto for Susan Hatfield.”

“I like to think optimistically. Let’s get those warrants. Who knows what we’ll find?” Luke told him as he exited the office. “I’ll start the paperwork,” he called over his shoulder.

Adelaide knew that Susan Hatfield should be home from her interview with Daniel by now. After leaving Mary Ellen Oliver, she’d gone home to freshen up, then walked across the street to the Hatfield’s home, which sat kitty-corner from her own. A red Volkswagen Beetle sat at the curb, indicating that the Hatfield’s son, Eric, was there. She wondered about Susan’s other family members. She had a sister who lived in Rochester, New York, a brother in Tucson, Arizona and another brother living in Marietta. Her parents, both retired, were living in Boca Raton, Florida.

As for Jerry, he’d been the only child of parents who were killed in an auto accident just two days after his thirty-third birthday. Again the unfairness of the man’s death, at just thirty-nine years of age, hit Adelaide, bringing tears to her eyes.

It was just beginning to snow as she climbed the steps onto the Hatfield’s front porch. Eric answered the door. He was tall, with an athletic build and unruly blond hair. He looked at her somberly, his blue eyes assessing her intent, it seemed. “My mother is resting, Mrs. McBride.” He didn’t invite Adelaide inside.

Adelaide gathered her heavy wool coat around her as a gust of icy air blew across the porch. Large snowflakes swirled haphazardly, some landing on her cheeks. “I’d hoped to have a word with her. I’m so sorry for your loss, Eric. I know you and your father were close.”

His gaze hardened. “You can call her on the phone if you want to talk. My uncle Jack is out running errands then we have to—”

A rather husky, yet distinctly female voice interrupted him. “Don’t be rude, Eric. You were raised better than that.” Susan stepped into view from behind her son. “Come in, Adelaide. We’re just so tired of news people trying to sneak in or nosy busybodies trying to get information. Some of the people who have come to the door today I didn’t even know, yet they tried to convince Eric they were friends of the family.”

Eric reluctantly stepped back to admit Adelaide. She gratefully entered the wide, gracious foyer. Feeling chilled to the bone, she shivered, rubbing her nearly numb hands together to warm them.

“I’m not here to pry,” she said throwing Eric a stern look. “I just wanted to see how you both were doing.”

Erica said peevishly, “Your son
is
the chief of police. Maybe we should ask you what he is doing to find my father’s killer.”

“Enough, Eric. Adelaide isn’t here to cause problems,” Susan said firmly.

Adelaide assessed Susan’s appearance. Her eyes were red rimmed yet dry. A white lace-trimmed handkerchief was balled up in one hand. She ran the other hand through her tangled hair, leaving it even more askew with each pass. She was wearing a lavender sweat suit. On her feet were white sneakers with no socks. She looked battle weary.

“Let’s talk in the living room,” Susan said. She led Adelaide into a large high-ceilinged room that was shaped to accommodate the turret window. There was a fire roaring in the red brick fireplace.

Eric stood nearby, his arms folded across his chest. “Uncle Jack will be back soon.”

“I know, dear. Why don’t you go put on some coffee? I’d like to talk to Adelaide alone,” Susan told her son in a firm voice.

“Just watch what you say. Like I said, her son
is
the chief of police,” Eric grumbled.

“I’ll be fine,” Susan assured him.

Mother and son exchanged glances Adelaide found difficult to interpret. Reluctantly, Eric left the room. Adelaide had a feeling he wouldn’t be out of earshot.

“Please, sit down.” Susan indicated the high-back sofa that was part of a brocade furniture grouping near the fireplace. “Take off your coat. Make yourself comfortable. The coffee should be ready soon.”

Adelaide shed the heavy coat, looping it over the arm of the sofa. The heat from the fireplace was warming her quickly. Susan sat across from her in a pale blue armchair. “My sister, Mary, is flying in from Rochester tonight. My brother, Keith, is arriving from Tucson tomorrow morning. As you already know, my brother Jack is here.”

Adelaide knew Jack Taylor had moved away about ten years ago to manage an upscale Marietta restaurant. “What about your parents?”

“They’ll arrive on Tuesday. The funeral is Wednesday at Purcell’s, one o’clock.”

“Yes, I heard.”

“I put an announcement in the
Rosewood Gazette
, since it’s a daily paper and our pathetic rag here only comes out every Thursday. Except of course when they have a story like the death of my husband to sensationalize, with a one-page tabloid-style issue. I don’t know why I bothered with an announcement at all since word spreads like wildfire in this town.” There was a touch of bitterness in her tone.

Adelaide decided not to respond to that one. Instead she said, “Susan, I know about the argument you had with Jerry outside the church. I also overheard an argument between Jerry and Douglas on Friday morning. It concerned Douglas’s relationship with you.”

Susan seemed distraught yet guarded. Her back stiffened. She twisted the wrinkled handkerchief in her hands almost frantically. “Everyone judges so quickly. They’ve made up their minds already. Rumors are flying around town about me being involved in Jerry’s death.”

“Where were you Saturday after your fight with Jerry?”

She seemed to be struggling. “I’ve given the police my statement. Why should I tell you anything, anyway? You’ll just tell Daniel.”

“The truth will come out, Susan. It always does.”

She was silent for a few moments. Adelaide waited. She could tell that the woman wanted to get something off her chest.

Susan finally let out a long sigh. “Doug and I were together. We were talking things out…actually we were breaking up. I had to end it, don’t you see? It was just too much!”

“You were with Douglas Underwood on Saturday afternoon?”

Susan nodded.

“What time was this, exactly?”

Susan shook her head. “I’m not sure. Around one, I think. I called the church and said I had to meet with him. We had a…special spot. He got there, we talked, we argued, I cried, he cried…it was so awful.” She dabbed at the tears now streaming down her cheeks.

She’s crying about breaking up with her lover, not for her dead husband. She’s still in love with Douglas Underwood.

Susan sniffed into the handkerchief. “Jerry was so jealous. All the time. I’ll bet you didn’t know that, did you? Ever since I got the bariatric surgery and began to take pride in my looks, he was always accusing me of flirting with other men. Nothing between us was the same after I lost all that weight. We began having problems in our marriage. Sometimes I felt like Jerry resented the new me. I tried to get him to go to counseling but he refused, so I went alone.”

“To Douglas.” Adelaide finally saw how the relationship between the two began.

“I kept it hush-hush. I didn’t want people to know Jerry and I were having trouble. Especially, I didn’t want Eric to know.”

“So that’s how your affair began.”

Susan nodded. “Douglas was kind, so gentle. He never made me feel foolish about how I was feeling. He listened to me, made me feel good about myself.” She sighed, as though finally admitting the truth had taken a great burden off of her shoulders.

Susan avoided looking at Adelaide. Instead she gazed into the fire. “He took it hard—my breaking it off. He took it very hard.”

The front door opened then closed. A tall, dark-haired man came bustling inside. Adelaide recognized Jack Taylor at once, even though it had been years since she’d last seen him. He stopped in the archway between the foyer and living room, his arms laden with several paper grocery bags. “Oh, you’ve got company. Is that you Adelaide McBride?” His face broke into a grin.

“Good to see you again Jack, although I wish it were under different circumstances,” Adelaide replied.

Eric walked into the foyer casting a suspicious glance Adelaide’s way. She took that as her cue to leave. Getting up, she donned her coat then headed for the front door. Susan followed while the two men walked toward the kitchen.

Susan followed her out onto the porch. “Everything is out in the open now, Adelaide. The police know about my relationship with Douglas. I’ve hired Mark Cardosa to represent me. Eric insisted I have legal representation. I’ve told him everything, Eric I mean. He was disappointed but he’ll stand by me, as you can see.”

“Did you tell the police you were with Douglas at the time of the murder?”

Susan shook her head emphatically. “Mark Cardosa wouldn’t let me say anything. I imagine you’ll be telling Daniel though, won’t you?”

Adelaide wasn’t sure the two main suspects providing alibis for each other would make much of an impact. Instead of giving Susan a reply, she gave her a brief hug. “You have a good family, Susan. A strong family.”

Susan smiled wanly. “I have a feeling I’m going to need them.”

As Adelaide turned to leave another sharp gust of winter wind blew across the porch.

After leaving Susan’s house, Adelaide walked north, then turned right onto Buckeye Street. The snow was falling harder but the wind had let up, making the stroll almost pleasant. The new snowfall quickly covered the old, making everything look fresh. Against the white background various Christmas decorations created a colorful contrast.

As she approached the parsonage, she glanced across the street at the church. It looked deserted; no cars were parked at the curb, or in the parking lot. The alley running beside the church was also bereft of traffic. Most people were probably snuggled inside their homes, watching the snow fall through frost covered windows as they sipped hot cocoa, tea or coffee. It sounded good to Adelaide, but she had a few more stops to make before she could indulge herself in such a way.

The church parsonage had been built in the late 1960s after the original two-story frame house occupying the lot had burned to the ground one hot summer night. The owner sold the land to the church, cut his losses, then left Crescent Falls for good. She remembered the man—his name was Prichard. Manfred Prichard. He was the last surviving member of his family. He’d been in his late fifties then, so she assumed by now he’d surely gone on to his final reward.

Once the church bought the land, a fund drive began to finance the construction of a home for its then current minister and those who would follow. Adelaide could still recall how involved her parents were in that fund drive. It was practically all they talked about. There was a certain amount of excitement surrounding it. She’d watched the house go up a year later, marveling at how much hard work it took to put such a structure together.

Stepping up to the front door of the parsonage, Adelaide rang the bell. She could hear the delicate chimes pealing inside. She looked at her watch. It read three-twenty-five. She hoped Douglas was still meeting with Daniel at the police station. She wanted to talk to Fran alone.

Fran Underwood answered the door then emitted an exasperated sigh. “Oh, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry to just drop by like this, Fran, but I wanted to have a word with you, if you don’t mind.”

Fran held the door open only enough to accommodate her smallish frame. She seemed about ready to shut it, in fact. “I’m rather busy—”

Adelaide took a step forward. “It won’t take long. May I come in?”

Finally, Fran stepped back, opening the door wide. “Why not? I don’t suppose it matters now.” Turning, she walked away, leaving it to Adelaide to shut the door behind her.

Adelaide stopped short as she stepped into the living room behind her reluctant hostess. Boxes of all sizes covered every inch of available floor space. She scanned the room noting that most of the end tables as well as the mantel were stripped bare of the knick-knacks she recalled seeing during other visits. She gazed through the archway into the adjoining dining room. The large breakfront along one wall stood empty. Some of the boxes were sealed, others were open, their wrapped contents clearly visible.

“I hope you don’t mind if I work while we talk,” Fran said continuing her task. She picked up a small ceramic vase. From a stack of pre-cut papers on the coffee table, she selected the top one, using it to snugly wrap the delicate looking vase. “Would you like some coffee? I know it is cold out there. They’re predicting four more inches by morning.”

“Fran, what is going on?” Adelaide took off her coat then flung it over the back of the nearest easy chair.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m moving. Back to Columbus, to be exact. I told your son I was leaving to visit my family in a few days, but that wasn’t quite true. Once I leave Crescent Falls I’m never coming back.” She was breathing heavily now, her cheeks flushed.

“I don’t know what to say,” Adelaide told her truthfully.

“Well, that makes you the minority in this town, I’m sure!”

Adelaide didn’t miss the rancor in her tone. “I’m so sorry, Fran. You don’t deserve any of this.”

Fran’s gaze met Adelaide’s. “I set the record straight a while ago. I’m not covering for that…my husband any longer.”

Adelaide didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.

Fran smiled mirthlessly. “Douglas insisted I lie and tell the police we were together when Jerry Hatfield was murdered. I went along at first, but today I told your son the truth.”

It’s pretty clear Douglas was trying to conceal the affair and give himself a credible alibi by saying he was with his wife. But why would she go along with it? Or, perhaps Susan is lying. Maybe he wasn’t with her either.

“I can see you’re perplexed. How about that coffee?” Fran left the room, returning moments later with two mugs of the steaming brew on a tray along with cream and sugar. “Let’s sit. I could use a break.”

They sat side by side on a tan leather sofa, sipping their coffee. Finally Fran put her mug on the coffee table. “You know, I’m a couple of years older than Douglas. We dated in college, at Ohio Northern, and then broke up. He was entering seminary when we ran into each other again at a church retreat in Columbus. He was so handsome, so sure of himself. I couldn’t believe he was interested in me again. I had many doubts, believe me. But I pushed them aside. I was working as a proofreader, even though I really wouldn’t have had to work at all. I liked the job; it gave me satisfaction to earn some of my own money. After about a year of marriage Douglas wanted me to quit, so I did. I never really liked the life of a preacher’s wife, but I loved Douglas so much I’d have done anything he asked—did do whatever he asked. Now, looking back, I don’t think Douglas was ever faithful to me, not even when we were engaged.”