Time of Death

‘I can think of easier ways of getting food without picking it out of a crocodile’s teeth,’ said Ren. ‘Think about it – every meal would be stressful. It would be like a first date every time.’ She paused. ‘But I guess if you’re already in his mouth, that would take some of the pressure off later…’

Colin looked up.

‘All right, all right,’ said Ren. ‘What’s with you giving me the skank eye? Since when did you get all Holy Mary?’ She paused. She smiled slowly. ‘Oh. My. God. Robbie – Colin Grabien has a lady friend.’

Colin went red.

‘Look at you,’ said Ren.

Colin smiled despite himself.

‘Wow,’ said Ren.

‘That’s great,’ said Robbie.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘I must pick her brain. What is the best way to go from a standing position to upside-down on the pole without losing any of the money stuffed into your g-string?’

‘Yeah? You can ask her tonight,’ said Colin.

‘Ooh,’ said Ren. ‘She’s coming out? I can’t wait. What’s her name? Kitty Miaow-Miaow? SINderella?’

‘Naomi,’ said Colin.

‘Nice,’ said Ren.

‘Now, shut the hell up,’ said Colin.

He has it bad. Ren adjusted her screen and dragged her keyboard closer. ‘No work-out bag!’ she said, turning to Colin. ‘That’s why you haven’t had your work-out bag every morning. You’ve been staying in bed a little longer…’

Colin completely ignored her. She opened Google and typed in Douglas Hammond. She scanned down the news reports. They all seemed to be repeating the same story.

The ninth hit was from a blog and had the headline Second Tragedy Hits Hammond Family.

What? What was the first tragedy?

The main article was on Douglas Hammond’s car accident. The fact that it was a homicide still hadn’t been released. Tragedy number one was detailed underneath in an image of a newspaper article from 1983. Shock as Woman’s Body Found

in Everdale Home

Tragedy struck the small community of Everdale yesterday morning when the body of Mrs Trudie Hammond, 26, was discovered by her husband, Douglas Hammond, 28. Mr Hammond, a lawyer, had left the family home at 8 a.m. but returned later that morning to find his wife brutally slain. Their two-year-old daughter, Mia, was found, unharmed, in her crib. Neighbors expressed shock and sadness at the death of the young mother.

There were two black-and-white photos – one of a perfect street marred by squad cars and crime-scene tape. The other was a head and shoulders shot of Trudie Hammond. She had shoulder-length feathery hair, over- plucked eyebrows and thick mascara on long lashes. She had thin but pretty lips and a warm, friendly smile.

Ren scanned through the piece again. It was a preliminary news report; light on details, simplified, tired phrases.

What was the full story?

Ren read through the later articles, they had only a little more information. Hammond had been a lawyer, so if anyone was able to keep the details out of the press, it would have been him. And if they were particularly gruesome, he would want to save that little two-year-old girl from any future pain.

Trudie Hammond’s killer had never been found.

Ren dialed Glenn Buddy.

‘Hey, Glenn. It’s Ren. A propos nothing, did you find any prior connection between Helen Wheeler and Douglas Hammond?’

‘No,’ said Glenn. ‘Nothing.’

‘She wasn’t an expert witness in his courtroom or anything?’

‘No.’

‘Under a maiden name?’

‘We’ve gone through all her last names,’ said Glenn.

‘All?’

‘Three.’

‘Wow,’ said Ren. ‘Divorced?’

‘Widowed,’ said Glenn. ‘Divorced by two.’

‘She doesn’t seem the type.’ I should know this information if she’s my ‘friend’. ‘She didn’t talk about it much.’

‘Why would she?’

‘How come the three husbands didn’t make it into the papers?’

‘Well, not in the news reports,’ said Glenn. ‘But probably in some future special double-page feature on the attractive murdered psychiatrist from next-door-to-the wrong side of town.’

‘Could Helen have just walked in on a deal in that parking lot behind her office?’ You’re grasping.

‘Anyone dealing by her office would know her,’ said Glenn. ‘And know to avoid her. She obviously turned a blind eye.’

‘I doubt she’d turn a blind eye,’ said Ren. ‘It was probably that they just did their business when she had closed up for the evening. Did anyone round up some of these dirtbags to “axe” them some questions?’

‘Easier said than done.’

She paused. ‘What about Helen’s two ex-husbands? Not that dumping a body in a warehouse is particularly husbandlike…but could one of them have hired someone to kill her? Would they have any reason to? I don’t know… none of this sounds like Helen should be involved in it. I can’t get that out of my head. This is Helen Wheeler…’ She let out a breath. ‘It’s all so screwed up.’

28

Gaffney’s was Irish, loud, friendly and hopping. There was poetry etched into the wood paneling, pictures of Joyce and Beckett, the framed words of the national anthem and photos on the wall of sunburnt Irish bar staff through decades of hot Denver summers.

Colin Grabien stood by the bar with his hand resting on the lower back of a much shorter woman. She was a smiling, low-key blonde. She was understated. She was in her thirties. No glitter, no tits out. Ann Taylor Loft meets Aerosoles meets Seventh Heaven.

Quite the turnaround, Mr Grabien.

Ren walked over to them. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You must be Naomi. I’m Ren. I work with Colin. It’s lovely to meet you.’ It really is. But calm down, Ren.

‘You too,’ said Naomi. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘And it was going so well,’ said Ren.

Naomi laughed. ‘It was all good. I promise.’ She smiled up at Colin.

‘Well, thank you.’ Your new boyfriend is soo full of shit.

Robbie came in after Ren.

‘Hello,’ said Naomi. She shook hands with him. ‘Nice to meet you, Robbie.’

‘You too,’ said Robbie. ‘Colin talks about you a lot.’

Robbie, you brat. Ren smiled at him, then at Colin. And in two seconds, Colin will buy drinks for everyone.

‘What are you having to drink, guys?’ said Colin.

‘Coors Light, please,’ said Ren. ‘Thank you.’ He walked up to the bar to order. Ren turned to Naomi. ‘So how