“Why didn’t you say anything?” Donna asked.
“What good would it do, dear?” Mrs. Wilson replied with a shrug. “He’d simply be embarrassed, and he couldn’t control it.”
We all sipped our wine, almost as if we were having a moment of silence for Charles and the demons that haunted him.
“Anyway, the man suffered and Claudia became... different. I heard her yell at him many times.”
“About the screaming at night?” Donna asked.
“No. Other things. She called him lazy. Told him he was good for nothing. Maybe a year and a half after they moved in, she told him she was tired of working two jobs and supporting him. That he needed to find work.”
“Well, that's understandable,” Donna said. “I'd be upset too if my husband sat on the couch all day while I worked.”
“I never asked, but I don't think he could hold down a job,” Mrs. Wilson said, tapping her head with her pointer finger. “He wasn't right up here.”
“What happened then?” I asked.
“Oh, my goodness. One day, maybe a year ago, they had a huge fight that went on for what felt like hours. I heard glass breaking, things being smashed in the apartment. Frankly, I came close to calling the police.”
“Why didn't you?” Donna asked.
“Well, I probably should have. All I heard was Claudia, though. Charles was a man and could certainly protect himself from her. I felt it was best to ignore the whole horrible episode.”
I tried to imagine calm, friendly Charles in such a relationship, but it was difficult. Love definitely appeared to do strange things to a person for him to put up with such barbaric behavior from his wife.
“After that, I didn't see Claudia,” Mrs. Wilson continued. “A few days after the incident, Charles apologized profusely for her outburst and said it wouldn't be an issue any longer as Claudia had left him.”
“That's really a sad tale,” I murmured. Perhaps it was the wine, but I found the whole scenario absolutely heartbreaking.
“Yes, well, Claudia filed for divorce a few months later. Right around the time you girls moved in, if I remember correctly.”
“The police said they found the unsigned divorce papers,” I said. “I had no idea he was even married.”
“I don't know this as fact, but it appeared to me Charles didn't want a divorce,” Mrs. Wilson said. “I think he hoped Claudia would one day come back.”
“What about his girlfriend?” Donna asked. “Karen?”
Mrs. Wilson shrugged. “Perhaps someone to warm his bed? I don't know, dear.”
“I don't understand,” Donna said. “What does a bad breakup have to do with Charles dying? Why do you think Claudia killed him?”
“Well, Charles' grandfather died a few months ago and left him quite a bit of money. Charles actually brought me flowers after he'd been notified, and he said he'd never have to work again. He also offered to take me out to dinner, but we never got around to it. The man had his issues, but overall, he had a good heart.”
“And what about Claudia?” I asked. “Did Charles tell her about the inheritance?”
“I'm not sure, but I wouldn't doubt it. If so... well, you understand why I think she killed him.”
The pieces of the puzzle slowly started coming together. Charles had come into money but hadn't signed the divorce papers for whatever reason. It didn't matter. He wasn't divorced when he died. Most likely, Claudia was the beneficiary of any estate Charles had. If there hadn't been a will, then most certainly by law.
“Do you know how much he received from his grandfather?” I asked.
Mrs. Wilson shook her head. “I don't. He said he'd never have to work again and he wanted to thank me for being such a good neighbor.”
“He never brought us flowers,” Donna said with a huff. “Were we not good neighbors?”
“Charles had a much longer history with Mrs. Wilson than he did with us,” I said. “If he didn't like us, he never would have watched Ringo.”
“Oh, he loved your kitty so much!” Mrs. Wilson said. “He adored that cat and appreciated you girls allowing him to watch him while you were on your travels. Don't think he didn't value your friendship.”
Donna rolled her eyes, obviously wishing she had flowers instead.
“So tell me, where have you girls been off to?” Mrs. Wilson asked. “Anywhere exciting?”
“Not for me,” I replied. “Before I was hurt, I went to New Mexico and then onto Dallas, where it poured rain. But Donna just got back from Paris.”
“Oh, my word!” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “How thrilling! Tell me everything!”
As Donna spilled the details on her short, but utterly fantastic trip, Mrs. Wilson sat in rapt attention while my mind wandered.
It sure seemed Claudia had a good reason to kill Charles, especially if he had enough money where he'd never have to work again.
But as I recalled the brutality of the crime scene, I wondered if a woman would be capable of such atrocities. Not only mentally, but physically as well. Could Claudia be strong enough to overpower Charles and lodge a knife in his stomach?
Or maybe she didn't have to subdue him with physical strength. Perhaps she'd romanced him with promises of getting back together in order to lower his defenses, and when she got close enough... BAM. Knife into the stomach of the man she had proclaimed she loved.
So very deceptive and cold, but definitely a possibility.
Personally, I couldn't imagine committing such a crime.
“What did Claudia do for work, Mrs. Wilson?” I asked, interrupting their conversation.
“Jeez, Patty,” Donna said. “Way to ruin my story. I was about to tell her about my kiss at the Eiffel Tower.”
“I'm sorry. I was just thinking about Claudia. I know she left Charles, but do you really think she disliked him enough to kill him?”
“Well, after the fight I heard, I'd have
