refine that interrogation technique of yours,” laughed Detective Goetz. “This makes how many people who have needed medical attention after talking with you?
“First there was your husband, who after a fight with you, has a heart attack and dies.”
“That’s a low blow. His death wasn’t my fault,” I protested.
“Then there was a guy named Ison Taggert who didn’t even wait until you left, but has a heart attack in front of you,” Goetz countered.
“He had a panic attack. How do you know about him anyway?”
“I have connections with the Richmond police. He needed to go to the hospital . . . right? Now your friend, Ginny Wheelwright. Remind me not to get into a heated discussion with you.”
“Her doctor said it was due to stress and high blood pressure. Ginny’s a ticking time bomb unless she slows down.”
“Again, while talking with you. That’s the point. You’re a walking dip stick of misery.”
“A dip stick of misery. Let me write that down. That’s sheer poetry. Are you going to look into Dwight Wheelwright’s disappearance or not?” I demanded.
“No. We did our part. It’s up to the boys at the State Police and Whitley County to do theirs. But I can tell you that they did their job. There is nothing more to do until a body is found or Dwight Wheelwright pops up alive somewhere.”
“Let’s say he is murdered for a reason and not due to a botched robbery. Whom would you suspect?”
“His mother. She had the motive of the life insurance policy.”
“That’s ridiculous. Ginny couldn’t harm a fly let alone her own flesh and blood,” I hissed.
“You’d be surprised what people will do for money, regardless of blood ties.”
“What about his wife, Selena?”
“No motive. His daughter gets the money, which is held in trust until she is eighteen. But I really don’t think his relatives killed him. You know that. He was killed by a stranger in Whitley County and is buried in the forest. He may have stumbled upon a marijuana patch in the woods and was killed over that . . . or a robbery that went down bad. He was driving a sweet pickup. Maybe someone wanted his ride, then got scared and ran off.”
“And you think that because Dwight’s hat was found weeks after his disappearance?”
“Why the rehash? I’ve told you all this before. You must be fishing for something. Let’s change the subject. I shouldn’t be talking with you about the case anyway.” Goetz eyed the cake carrier I was holding in my lap. “Is that my lemon pound cake?”
“Yes,” I replied in a deflated voice as I handed the cake carrier to him.
“Explain to Ginny Wheelwright that everything that could be done has been done. Until we get a break, it remains a cold case.”
I got up to leave. “Goetz. You don’t think I was really responsible for my husband’s death, do you?”
Goetz lifted his weary hound-dog face.
I had never noticed before what an intense blue his eyes were.
“I think you were so in love with your husband that you didn’t recognize him for the jerk that he was. He got himself into a jam with a younger woman and couldn’t find a way out, so he just took himself out of the game. That’s all there was to it.”
“You sound like you knew him.”
“As a matter of fact, Josiah, I did know him.” Goetz was quiet for a moment, and then he added, “I didn’t like him.”
20
After the meeting with Goetz, I still had enough energy to pick up a few things from the grocery store.
Maybe it was fate, kismet or whatever you want to call it, but I ran into the lab technician who had run the tests on Dwight’s chocolate centerpiece.
“Oh, hi. Do you remember me? I did the tests on the chocolate horse centerpiece.” She blocked my path to the fresh produce.
“Yes. Funny running into you. Do you live near here?” I’m always suspicious when I just bump into people.
She gave me a big smile. “I live at the apartments across the street. It’s Mrs. Reynolds,
Drew Hunt
Robert Cely
Tessa Dare
Carolyn Faulkner
Unknown
Mark Everett Stone
Horacio Castellanos Moya
Suzanne Halliday
Carl Nixon
Piet Hein