“Okay.”
“Do you want me to advocate for you?”
She thought about it. There was no harm in it, as far as she could tell. She wouldn’t be any worse off than she was now. Emma was certain that their mother had saved money for her to move to Ridge Pointe, but Emma wasn’t exactly a sure bet on information.
“Thank you, Teddy. That would be great.”
“Glad to do it,” he said happily.
* * *
It took until Thursday evening before Cooper had a chance to connect with Mr. and Mrs. Winkelman. Gwen’s parents had the weathered, windbeaten faces of people who lived and worked outdoors. They both wore jeans and sweatshirts and jackets meant for cold weather. The Patagonia brand of clothing was meant for harsh weather, and the Winkelmans looked like poster children for extreme conditions.
They were devastated by their daughter’s death. Rendered speechless by the horror of not seeing “Gwennie” anymore. Cooper met with them after refereeing for the Kearnses who, once the shock of the attack on Bette had dissipated, were at it again. He had been called to their home because Eric Volker was making threats against Phil, and Phil, who’d been allowed back in the house, was threatening right back. As far as Cooper was concerned, the only good thing about this week was the anticipation of seeing Jamie again, and the loosening of the reins on Marissa; Laura had allowed the girl to spend the night at Cooper’s. To say that was unusual was not giving enough weight by far to the rarity of the event, but then, David and Laura were also at it, over money, apparently, and promises broken. It wasn’t that long ago that Cooper and Marissa were both saying how glad they were that David was there for Laura. Now that appeared to be over.
So, Cooper was in the process of setting aside everything on his plate when he met with Winkelmans. They deserved his full attention and he was bound and determined to give it to them.
“There is no way Gwennie would commit suicide,” Myrna Winkelman now declared for about the twentieth time. Cooper had told them about the tetrahydrozoline and shown them the “Sorry” note, which had caused Myrna to keen with grief, while Al Winkelman put his arm around her bony shoulders.
“That’s her handwriting?” Cooper asked.
Al nodded, but Myrna denied it, her voice muffled against her husband’s shoulder. “She wouldn’t do it. She loved life.”
Al cleared his throat. “Gwen had high blood pressure and a slight arrhythmia. A valve in her heart that didn’t work properly. She never told anybody, but she was always careful.”
“She was very careful,” Myrna agreed. “She just wouldn’t do this. Not this way. Not ever.”
“It had to have been an accident,” Al said.
Cooper didn’t respond. They’d been over the same territory several times. He didn’t see how that much of the drug could have accidentally found its way into her cup. And if it wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t suicide, it was a homicide.
As if divining his thoughts, Myrna pulled herself back from her husband, swiping at her red nose. “No one would want to kill Gwennie. She was too good. She helped people.”
“She helped people who were disturbed,” her husband reminded her.
“No . . .” Myrna wouldn’t hear of it. “Mostly they were just people with some problems that she helped them with. They weren’t disturbed. Oh, why do people live in cities anyway? It’s not healthy. We told Gwennie to join us. We begged her.”
“She had friends here.” Al was clearly the voice of reason in the relationship.
“I know my Gwennie. I know her. She wouldn’t do this.” She gazed up at Cooper with conviction. “Someone hurt her. You need to find out who.”
* * *
Jamie helped clean out the larger pumpkin and watched Harley somewhat nervously work a knife to carve out the jack-o’-lantern face. Harley had always had an artistic bent and had seen one on the internet that seemed to be throwing up the seeds and innards from its mouth. She was determined to copy the idea.
“Lovely,” Jamie remarked.
“Greer has one where the knife is sticking out of its head and it’s looking up at it in horror. He sent me a picture. See?” She stopped what she was doing to grab her phone. Jamie dutifully looked at the photo, though it surprised her that Harley had no qualms about the image based on what had happened to Marissa and Bette.
“Mmm,” she said. She supposed she should be glad Harley, apparently, was suffering no ill effects.
But then, it didn’t happen to her.
They heard Theo’s van pull up, and Jamie said, “Maybe let’s stop. Just until Emma gets inside and we’re all on board.”
“Sure.” Harley set down the knife and wiped her hands on a paper towel. Sometimes she was obtuse, but sometimes she was totally in tune with other people.
Emma, as it turned out, was totally into the jack-o’-lanterns. “Mom said I can’t use a knife,” she told Jamie.
“I know. We’ll let Harley do it.”
“You can use a knife,” Emma told Jamie.
“If she needs some help, I’ll certainly jump in.”
Harley managed to carve both pumpkins. The larger one was retching up its innards, but the smaller one just had a goofy smile on its face. Emma seemed to like them both.
Cooper called just as they were putting the jack-o’-lanterns on the porch. Harley wanted to light them, but Emma wouldn’t let her. “They won’t last,” she warned.
Jamie let them bicker about pumpkin etiquette as she went back inside and took Cooper’s call. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“Gwen’s mother won’t believe it’s suicide.”
“What do you think?” Jamie asked. She heard some indecision in his voice.
“They’re going through some of her personal items. Her client list is with her lawyer, as is her will. Maybe something will pop out. Forensics still hasn’t found anything
