“He was as crooked as they come,” Andrew said, “and we still don’t know if he killed his wife.”
On the dais, Sally Marcus rose to her feet. “Regardless of the mistakes Marshall made, he’s dead, killed by some evil person. I think that’s proof enough he didn’t murder Claire.”
“An erroneous and emotional assumption!” Andrew thundered. “The police have yet to discover who killed Claire Weill.”
Conversations sprang up and were immediately quelled by a wail of anguish. All eyes fixed on Viv Maguire.
“You people! Don’t you understand? Marshall is dead. Whoever killed him is one of us and lives right here.”
Viv ran from the room. Lydia shuddered, remembering how Doris had fled an earlier meeting in tears and died minutes later.
George ended the meeting, saying there would be another in a week’s time to discuss the latest developments in the police investigation. The residents broke into small groups to air private opinions of how the case was being handled. Sol had departed, Lydia surmised, to avoid being badgered with the same questions he’d answered earlier in the evening.
She chatted with Barbara, Caroline and a few other women about the Women’s Club’s outing scheduled for Friday evening until Peg tapped her arm. There was a flurry of good-byes. Caroline told Lydia she’d pick her up at five, then Lydia left the clubhouse with Peg.
“Lots of yakking and nothing accomplished,” Peg commented as she drove out of the parking spot.
“I think the purpose of the meeting was to give residents a chance to vent their anxieties. Let’s face it, no one can feel safe until the murders are solved.”
Peg braked at a stop sign. In the dappled light, she turned to Lydia. “Who do you think killed the Weills?”
Lydia shook her head. “I’ve no idea. Maybe Marshall killed Claire. Even if he didn’t, there could be two murderers running loose.”
“And if it’s one person?”
“I haven’t a clue. Though I agree with Detective Molina. The murderer acted from very strong emotions.”
“You mean, maybe someone took revenge because Marshall gave them bad financial advice?” Peg’s voice was scornful. “That’s over the top, wouldn’t you say?”
“Someone hated Marshall enough to kill him. Could be that person first killed Claire in order to hurt him.”
“Like who? Andrew Varig?” Peg drove slowly home.
“Maybe. Andrew disliked Marshall and was sorry he’d introduced him to Twin Lakes. He also held Marshall responsible for heavy losses in the stock market.” Oops, she shouldn’t have let that out. “The question is, did he hate Marshall enough to kill him?”
“I don’t know.” Peg glanced at Lydia. “Does your friend, the detective, have any clues?”
“None that I know of.”
As they rode, Lydia’s thoughts turned to Viv Maguire. “I wonder if it was a woman.”
“Come on. Most women adored Marshall.”
“True,” Lydia agreed. “He had a certain magnetism, a way of flattering that made a woman feel special. I think it worked wonders on vulnerable females.”
Peg snorted. “Don’t tell me you were immune to his charms.”
“I suppose I was flattered when he asked me to help find his wife’s killer. I thought there was something decent, even heroic, about his determination to discover who killed Claire. Only Marshall didn’t have an honest bone in his body. I knew that as soon as I heard…” She stopped, sorry she’d said as much.
“Heard what?” prompted Peg.
“It doesn’t matter now. The point is, he was totally amoral.” She rushed on, driven by the need to rid herself of the subject once and for all. “He was a despicable human being where women were concerned. He used them—for sex, for money, for laughs. I bet he never loved anyone but himself.”
Peg’s laugh sounded brittle. “What a bizarre analysis.”
Lydia turned to face her. “I hope you weren’t one of his victims.”
“Hardly.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” They approached their homes in silence. Lydia said, “You saw Viv Maguire, how distraught she was over his death.”
“I saw.” Peg slowed down and turned into her driveway.
Lydia spoke slowly as an idea dawned on her. “What if she really was upset, but also performing at the same time?”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“What if she loved Marshall and wanted to marry him, but that night he told her he was breaking off their relationship. She went berserk, killed him, then cried over the fact that he was gone—still loving him.”
Peg ripped up the emergency brake. “Sounds plausible. Was that why she sent you dirty looks—because she thought Marshall was after you?”
Lydia felt her ears grow warm under Peg’s scrutiny in the dim light. “She was furious to find me at his house one afternoon when she stopped by.”
“When was this?”
“Thanksgiving weekend.”
Peg’s rabbity eyes widened. “Hey, isn’t that when someone threw a rock through your window?”
“The following day, in fact.” Lydia sighed. “But Viv left no evidence and no one saw her do it, so she was never charged.”
“Viv Maguire, Claire’s bosom pal,” Peg said thoughtfully. “Now I wonder if she was after Marshall all this time and bumped off Claire to get at him. Only he dumped her in the end.”
Lydia shivered. “What an awful idea!”
“Well, someone killed the two of them, and this is the only scenario that makes any sense. I’d mention it to your friend, the detective, if I were you.”
Lydia stepped out of the car. “I’ll ask my sister who lives in Chicago to find out what she can about Viv Maguire.”
“Why bother? Everyone knows Viv’s husband died under mysterious circumstances. She was a suspect for a while, but the investigation came up with zilch. Viv walked away a wealthy widow.”
Lydia gave a start. “I had no idea.”
“Life holds many surprises.”
They said good-night. Lydia glanced nervously around as she walked across the lawn to her front door, which she double locked behind her. For the first time, she wondered if she’d been a fool to scoff at Meredith’s offer to stay over until the murders were solved.
Nineteen
Lydia sipped the scalding tea, then pressed the mug against her chest to warm her racing heart. Peg’s news about Viv Maguire’s husband’s death both shocked and frightened her. Viv, she knew, was a woman of strong emotions. Was she more than that—a madwoman who struck out at anyone who crossed her? Had she killed Claire because she wanted Marshall, then did the same to Marshall when he refused to marry her?
That was one ferocious look she’d given Lydia at the meeting! Lydia shivered. If Viv were deranged, she’d view Lydia as a siren who had stolen Marshall’s affections. Following her skewed logic, Viv would blame her for Marshall’s death.
“Think with your brain, not with your nerves,” Lydia scolded herself aloud. She was building up a case against Viv when there was no proof that she was the killer.
The sound of her voice must have reached Reggie wherever he was dozing, because he swaggered into the kitchen to demand a snack. Lydia swept him up in her arms and nuzzled her face in his fur until he squawked his complaint. She reached for his treats and spilled some into a bowl.
Watching him gobble up the dried food as he purred noisily had a calming effect. Viv wasn’t necessarily the person to watch out for, but Lydia would be on her guard. She’d keep her doors and windows locked and not go anywhere alone.
She was slipping into her nightgown when the phone rang. It was Meredith sounding frantic.
“Mom! Thank God you’re there! I was about to call your friend at the police department to send out a search party.”
“If by my ‘friend’ you’re referring to Sol Molina, he was here at Twin Lakes addressing the meeting I just attended.”
“I asked you to keep your cell phone on and you turned it off.”
“Sorry, honey. George, our board president, asked us to shut off all cell phones and I did. I’ll turn it on first thing in the morning.”
“Have the police arrested anyone yet for the murders?”
“Not yet, but they’re working on it.”
Meredith let out a grunt of dissatisfaction. “I wish you’d pack your bag and stay with us a few days. Jeff does too.”
Lydia opened her mouth to say she’d come, then reconsidered. Her earlier fear had passed, now that she was safely ensconced in her own home. And there was the matter of Reggie. Besides, she hated to give up her inner sanctum for Merry’s boisterous household.
“How are you and Jeff doing?”
There was a pause. When Meredith spoke again, Lydia knew she was cupping the receiver with her hand. “We’re okay. I told Jeff I resent all the hours he works. He promised to cut back if I cut down on spending.”
“Sounds fair to me.”
“It is fair. Only I miss Steve.”
“Well, of course you do. That’s natural,” Lydia said.
“Really?” Merry’s relief came through loud and clear. “I was afraid I’d crossed a line of no return.”
“Nope, you can return. It will take time, though.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Merry paused a moment. “Mom,” she said hesitantly, “do you know all this from personal experience?”
Lydia let loose a hoot of laughter. “No, I was always true to your father. Two friends of mine had affairs of the heart, which they ended when they chose to stay with their husbands. Their marriages were better afterward.”
“Really? Which friends?”
“Can’t say. I was sworn to secrecy.”
“Drats!”
Lydia smiled at the expression Meredith used as a child when she was frustrated. She heard Jeff’s voice in the background.
“Talk to you tomorrow.” Merry lowered her voice to a whisper. “Thanks, Mom. I’d have screwed up everyone’s life if you hadn’t stopped me.”
“I think this must be a first—a daughter telling her mother she did something right.”
“You do practically everything right. Good-night, Mom. I love you.”
Lydia smiled as she put down the receiver. Merry was finally growing up.
A few minutes later she called Barbara.
“I would have phoned you,” Barbara informed her, “but I thought your ‘special friend’ might be there.”
“No, he isn’t. I believe Sol left right after he spoke.”
“No doubt to question Roger. He went to the police station early in the evening, accompanied by his lawyer.”
“I suppose Sol wants to question Roger about Marshall’s murder. I wonder if the board is pressing charges.”
Barbara chuckled. “Either way, our ex-treasurer won’t be showing his face around here. The board’s in the process of hiring an accounting firm to review every one of his transactions on behalf of the HOA. Caroline said we’ll hear more about this at next week’s special meeting.”
“Do you think Roger killed Marshall?” Lydia asked.
“I’ve no idea. At any rate, he’s a thief—like our dearly departed. It’s a good thing we have you around to sniff out the criminal element.”
“Frankly, I wish someone else did the sniffing. Barbara, didn’t you tell me Viv came from Chicago and knew Marshall and Claire from way back when?”
“I think so.”
“Can you remember who gave you that bit of information?”
“I think it was your neighbor, Peg.”
“Peg?” Lydia was so startled, she nearly dropped the phone. Instead, she sank into a kitchen chair. “Viv’s from Chicago, isn’t she?”
“Yes, I believe the Weills and Viv and her husband traveled in the same social circle and saw quite a bit of each other. Until Viv became a widow.”
“Peg just told me her husband died under mysterious circumstances.”
Barbara paused. “Gee, I thought that was a deep, dark secret. Claire told me about it in confidence.”
“Nothing remains a deep, dark secret in Twin Lakes.”
“True enough. Besides, it’s something your friend should know.”
Her friend. There was that expression again. “If Sol doesn’t already. Tell me the details, if you remember them,” Lydia said.
“About four years ago Martin, Viv’s husband, bought a sailboat to celebrate their fortieth anniversary. Though he had little boating experience, he insisted on taking it out alone, just the two of them. An unexpected storm made the lake extremely rough. Martin fell overboard and drowned. The boat nearly capsized, but Viv, who used to sail as a child, managed to bring it back to the marina. Claire said Viv never forgave herself for going along with his plans. She’d done so because she hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings.”
“Summary: Martin Maguire died, leaving Viv a rich widow,” Lydia said. “The question is: did he fall or was he pushed?”
Barbara gasped. “Come on, Lydia. Viv’s opinionated, and she’s been openly hostile toward you because she sensed Marshall had the hots for you—which he probably did. But basically she’s a good soul. You’re not suggesting Viv killed Claire then knocked off Marshall?”
“If she killed her husband, she’d have no compunction about killing again.”
“A very big if. People do die in accidents and from illness, as we both know firsthand.”
“Of course.” Lydia thought a moment. “And Viv knew the Weills from Chicago.”
“I wonder if Peg did, too.”
Lydia’s pulse quickened. “What makes you say that?”
“A group of us was gabbing in the clubhouse. Peg made a sarcastic comment, as she usually does. After she left, Viv let out a hoot and said she hadn’t heard that expression since she left Chicago.”
“Peg told me she comes from Indiana. Maybe they use the same expression there.” Lydia thought a minute. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Viv and Peg together. Peg’s made some digs about her—to me, anyway. Which could mean either they simply don’t like each other or they were once friends and now they don’t speak.”
Barbara yawned. “No more detective talk. My brain is turning to mush. I’m going to sleep and I suggest you do the same. Read something dull enough to lull you off to dreamland. This business has all our nerves in an uproar.”
“Yes, dear,” Lydia agreed in dulcet tones. She’d shelve the subject and call it a night, after one more phone call.
Samantha picked up on the fourth ring.
“Hi, Lyd. Sorry, I was on another line. How are things?”
“You mean since Marshall Weill got himself killed and our HOA treasurer’s been questioned as the possible murderer?”