So if she wasn’t living here, Sheila asked, where was she staying? With a friend, Donna Givens, until she and Larry could work out some financial details. That’s the reason she was here this afternoon. She had called and left a message, telling Larry that they needed to talk about money. And now— Well, she couldn’t (more tears and a sob), she just couldn’t, she would
never
be able to understand why Larry would do something like this. He was so level-headed, so self-contained, so—
And anyway, he hated guns. She didn’t know he
had
a gun. In fact, she herself had suggested that they get a gun last year, when the house down the street was broken into, but he refused. He put his foot down. He wouldn’t let her have one, either, which was ridiculous, since—
Sheila stopped writing. “Your husband hated guns?”
Dana Kirk squeezed her brown eyes shut, then opened them. “Yes, and that’s why this is really so weird. I mean, it was a big thing with him, huge. He was an anti-gun activist. Last year when those college students were trying to change the concealed-carry law to let them bring their guns on campus? He thought it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard of, letting kids carry guns to class. He even went up to Austin to join the protest at the capital.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “So if he was going to… kill himself, I would have thought he’d do it a different way. Lock himself in the garage with the car running, maybe, or take some pills. I would never have thought he’d—” She closed her eyes and clenched her hands. “But if he didn’t do it, I don’t see how in the world…”
Sheila cleared her throat. “Do you know if he was having problems with anyone? At the shop, maybe? A client, a customer, somebody who works for him?”
She shook her head. “If he did, I didn’t know anything about it. Somebody at the shop would know if there’s been any trouble.”
“Can you give me the names of the employees?” Sheila flipped a page.
“There are three, I think.” She frowned, concentrating. “No, four. Henry, Jason, Richie, and Dennis. I don’t know their last names. Henry is the only employee, though. He’s the assistant manager or something—he’s in charge when Larry isn’t around. The rest are contract people, techs. They only work when there’s a job. From what I hear, things have been pretty slow lately.” She made a face. “That’s what Larry said, anyway. But he might have been saying that so I would settle for less money.”
Sheila let that go by, at least for the moment. “What about debts?” she asked. “Personal? Business? Did he owe money to anybody?”
“I think he was still paying off some student loans. The mortgage on this house, car payments, credit cards. The usual, I guess.” She firmed her shoulders. “And me. He owed money to me.”
It was the opening Sheila had been waiting for. “I understand that you have an investment interest in your husband’s business. Had you worked out the settlement details?”
A brief flare of anger flashed in the woman’s eyes. “How did you—?” Then she sighed. “Small towns. I hate small towns. Everybody knows everything about everybody’s affairs.” She colored prettily and corrected herself. “Everybody’s
business
, I mean. Yes. My father died just before Larry and I got married, and I inherited some money from his estate. I wanted to buy stocks, but Larry talked me into investing it in his
computer business instead. Larry’s really good with computers. And patient with people who don’t understand the technology.”
She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “But no, we hadn’t worked out the settlement yet. He was trying to figure out how I could get my investment back without his having to sell the business. And of course, there’s this house. It’s underwater, as they say. It won’t appraise for what we paid for it. He was going to have to sell—” She stopped and took a breath.
“Sounds difficult,” Sheila said sympathetically. “Not just the house but the business, too—I’m sure that lots of couples would be fighting about it, tooth and nail. There weren’t any hard feelings?” She paused, then gave Dana Kirk a direct look. “Especially about your other relationship?”
“My… relationship?” The woman tried to hold the glance, but her eyes slid away.
“Yes. I understand that you’ve been involved with another man for some time and that this was why you were seeking a divorce.” Sheila looked down at her notebook, flipped a page, then looked up again. She waited, letting the silence build for the space of a couple of breaths. “I’m sorry. Did I misunderstand? I can always check back with the person who—”
Mrs. Kirk gave a resigned sigh. “No, you didn’t misunderstand. Yes, I am involved with… someone. But it doesn’t have anything to do with what Larry did today.” She pressed her lips together. “I am not going to say anything more about it. Really. You don’t have any right to—”
Sheila spoke softly. “Mrs. Kirk. We’re not sure yet what happened here today. Until we are, we will be investigating everyone and everything that is related to your husband. We will be talking with his business associates, the neighbors, you, the person you’re involved with—”
“No!” she cried, sitting straight up, a dull color flooding her doll-like cheeks. “That’s not right! He has nothing to do with Larry’s suicide! He—”
“Mrs. Kirk, I am sorry to be blunt. We are keeping everything open.
Everything
.” She turned to a fresh page in her notebook. “Now, perhaps you can help by giving me the names of people we need to notify of Mr. Kirk’s death. Just the names, relationships, and cities right now—we’ll likely be able to fill in the contact information from what we find in the house. True?”
Mrs. Kirk nodded. “Yes,” she said, barely audible. “Well, there’s his phone. You can look there. And he keeps a red leather address book in the top drawer of the desk in the living room. That’s where it used to be, anyway. His mom’s address is there. Her name is Jenny. Jenny Kirk. She lives in San Antonio. His father is dead. His sisters—”
Sheila noted down the names, then close friends, then neighbors that Kirk might have been especially friendly with. Apparently, he had been a collegial guy, for the list was a long one, although (in his wife’s version, anyway) it was exclusively male. When Dana Kirk ran out of names, Sheila said, “What about women he was dating?”
“Dating?” Dana’s eyes grew round. “I don’t think he— I’m sure he wouldn’t—”
“What? No casual dates? No girlfriends? He didn’t say something like, ‘Hey, Dana, what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. I’m seeing so-and-so’?”
She laced her fingers together tightly. “If he was seeing someone, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t spy on him. If he wanted to date, that was his business. Although if he didn’t have time for his wife, I doubt he’d have time for a girlfriend.” A little shrug, a little too casual. “I guess you could ask the guys at the shop. They’d probably know.”
“Okay, then,” Sheila said, and went back to a subject she’d opened earlier. “Help me with the other side. Enemies. People who didn’t like him. People he didn’t like. People he’d quarreled with. Clients, customers, guys at the shop.”
Dana pulled her eyebrows together. “Enemies? Gosh, I don’t know. Larry’s such an easygoing guy. He gets… he got along with just about everybody.” She swallowed. “We had a little trouble with Sam Schulz, the neighbor over there.” She nodded toward the house on the west. “After we bought this place, it turned out that the survey markers were wrong and our garage is two feet over the property line. That’s been a problem. But otherwise—”
“No long-term feuds? Did he ever mention being concerned that somebody might be stalking him?”
Mrs. Kirk shook her head. “No feuds, other than Mr. Schulz. And…
stalking
?” Her eyes widened. “Is that what you said?”
“Stalking, following, somebody hanging around. Did he mention anything like that?”
“Absolutely not.” She frowned again. “I don’t see what you— He killed himself, didn’t he? I mean, I saw the gun in his hand, in there, in the kitchen.” She shivered. “So why are you asking—”
“How about former employers? Where did your husband work before he opened his own business?”
Dana sighed. “Both of us were working for Harmon. He installed this big software package, set up the new accounting system, and put up a website, too. Ms. Harmon was really impressed. Larry blew her away. In fact, they were…” She broke off, smiling crookedly.
“Were what?” Sheila asked.
She looked down at her hands. “Oh, friends, I guess. I don’t know.”
“More than friends?”
“Maybe. But then we started going out together. He blew me away, too, you know, with all that energy. He was working his way through school—a master’s in computer science—and doing freelance stuff, too. Harmon wasn’t the only place he worked. He’d take jobs whenever they came along. I thought it was great that he could manage everything. His classes, consulting, all that stuff.” She flexed her fingers and Sheila noticed that she wasn’t wearing any rings. “But I guess it should have told me something.”
“Told you what?”
She hesitated, then looked up, holding the look almost defiantly. “That there wasn’t room in his life for anything or anyone else but work.” She took a deep breath. “If there had been, I never would’ve…” She ran out of steam, puffing out her breath. “Oh, never mind. Just never mind.”
Sheila understood. When you loved your work, it was hard to find time for other things. For people, even the ones who mattered to you. She changed directions. “I need the names of the people you work with, who can verify your whereabouts today.”
“But
why?
I don’t understand—”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kirk. It’s necessary.”
This list was shorter. On it was Donna Givens’ name, the woman that Dana Kirk was currently staying with.
“That reminds me.” Sheila took out the card. “Ms. Givens wanted you to know that she was here. I’m sorry we couldn’t let her in.”
Mrs. Kirk took the card. “Donna is so sweet. She’s been an angel through—” She waved her hand vaguely. “Through everything.”
Sheila nodded. “Oh, and she also wanted me to tell you that Mr. Vance would like you to call as soon as you can.”
“Oh, really?” Mrs. Kirk’s breath quickened. “I— Uh, thank you.”
“Vance.” Sheila read the rising flush on the woman’s cheeks. She looked down at the list. “You seem to have left his name out. He’s the man you’ve been seeing?”
Mrs. Kirk shook her head, chewed her lip, and looked away. Sheila waited. Finally, she said, “Yes. He’s— Yes.”
“Thank you. Vance.” Sheila made a point of scribbling it down. “First name?”
“Glen. He’s… the director of the library. My… boss.”
Sheila remembered the man. Ingratiating, she thought, too quick with the flattery. The sort of man an affection-starved woman might be attracted to, when her husband was working nights and weekends.
“You won’t have to… to talk to him, will you?” Mrs. Kirk asked. “It would just upset— I mean, Glen isn’t involved in any way.”
“You said you returned from lunch with Mr. Vance at one forty-five,” Sheila said crisply. “Did he return to the library at that time?”
“No. He… he had some errands to run. I don’t know what time he got back.” Her mouth twisted and she put out her hand in a pleading gesture. “Please
. Please
don’t bother him about this. It has nothing to do with him. It would be just awful.”
“I understand the situation, Mrs. Kirk,” Sheila said, and tucked her notebook and pen into her shirt pocket without acknowledging the woman’s plea. She stood up. “Thank you—you’ve been very helpful. You can go now. Before you do, though, I’m going to ask one of our officers to take your fingerprints.”
“My… fingerprints?” Dana Kirk asked, alarmed. “But I don’t understand. Why—”
“It’s just one of the things we do,” Sheila said with a reassuring smile. “It’s part of our process of elimination. It’ll just take a minute.”
“Well, I guess, if it’s necessary.” Dana Kirk got up. She smoothed her
skirt and then her hair, glancing toward the house. “I was planning to pick up a few things today. Linens, mostly. From upstairs. Can I— May I go in and get them now?”
Sheila shook her head. “The house is off-limits for the time being, maybe as long as a couple of days. We’ll let you know when you can have access.” She took out a card with her work number on it, added her cell number, and handed it to the woman. “I’d like you to call me if you think of anything I should know—or if something happens that’s in any way related to your husband’s death.”
Mrs. Kirk’s fingers closed around the card. She looked toward the house, her eyes filling with tears. “I suppose… I suppose it’s my house now, isn’t it?” She sounded disbelieving, but there was also a note of something like relief in her voice. Sheila wasn’t surprised. The marriage was over, and without all the bother and expense of a divorce.
“You’ll have to ask your lawyer about that,” she said. “Do you know if your husband left a will?” If this became a homicide investigation, they would need a copy.
“Yes. We both have—had wills. I don’t think he changed his after we separated. Which means…” Her voice trailed off.
Which means, Sheila thought, that the widow was now the owner of the house where her husband had died. And likely the business, as well. She wondered what kind of difference this was going to make in Dana Kirk’s life, and whether that difference might have been enough to tempt her.
“Insurance policies?” Sheila asked.
Mrs. Kirk frowned. “Yes,” she said reluctantly.
“How much?”
“Two hundred fifty thousand.” As if in explanation, she added, “I was working for an insurance agent when we got married.” Her tone was
defensive. “Ms. Harmon wrote the policies for us. There’s one on my life, too. The same amount.”
Sheila made a note. It sounded like the insurance had been in force long enough for the suicide exclusion to be lifted. “You’re the beneficiary of your husband’s policy?”
Her “I am” was barely audible. Mrs. Kirk was putting two and two together, and realizing that she was about to come into a substantial sum of money. She might also be realizing that a quarter of a million dollars, plus the house and the business, might look to the police like a lot of incentive. It was. People killed for much less.