with the Pruitts. Not that we disliked them. People live busy lives. We’d see them around the neighborhood, they seemed nice. They came out a couple weeks ago for the Fourth of July. We have a little get-together every year. Nothing fancy, just drinks and steaks.”
“How’d they seem?”
Terry scrunched her face—the look of a woman who had a thought but wasn’t sure about sharing it.
“Anything you can tell us might be helpful,” Max said.
“Well, it’s probably nothing, but when they were here, Ben was being very attentive to Jennavieve.”
“Was that unusual?”
“I don’t know if it was unusual . . . I don’t know them well enough. He just seemed . . . I don’t know . . . maybe ‘overly charming’ might be how I’d describe it. He can be a charming man to begin with, but that day he was floating around here like Gene Kelly. Kept asking Jennavieve if he could refill her drink or get her a napkin, that kind of thing.”
“And how was Jennavieve?”
“She was her normal self. Between the two of them, she’s the serious one. At one point, Ben found an oleander blossom that one of the kids must have broken off, and he brought it over and put it in Jennavieve’s hair. I said ‘Wasn’t that sweet.’ And Jennavieve said ‘It’s all for show.’ I wasn’t sure how to take that. I mean, Jennavieve can be so serious. I didn’t know if she was joking or not.”
The chime on Max’s phone dinged, and he looked to see a text from Maggie Hightower. Starting the postmortem. You want to be here?
“Excuse me,” Max said. “I need to respond.” He texted Maggie back. Go ahead and get started. I’ll be there in a bit . “Sorry about that. So, do you think the Pruitts were having marital problems?”
“Not to my knowledge, but like I said, we weren’t close. If it weren’t for the children being inseparable, we’d probably never see the Pruitts.”
“But people hear things.”
Terry shrugged. “I don’t engage in gossip. There are some neighbors who are nosier than others, but I don’t care to hear that kind of prattle. People know that about me, so I’m usually kept well out of the loop.”
“Suppose I were to track down these nosey neighbors, what might their names be?”
Terry gave Max a look of disapproval. She had no idea how important nosey neighbors were to solving crime. Max held her gaze then raised an eyebrow.
“You might start with Malena Gwin. She lives right across the street from the Pruitts. She tends to have her nose in most things going on around here.”
“I appreciate your help, Ms. Kolander.” Max stood to leave.
Terry walked Max to the front door, and partway to the street, pausing there to have one last moment of privacy. “What’s going to happen to Emma?”
“Her father will be here in a little while. We can put him in touch with professionals to help him break the news to Emma. It’s not going to be easy for her.”
“She’s very quiet, and sweet. This is going to be very hard on her.” Terry glanced over her shoulder at the house. The windows were all empty. “At least she has her father,” Terry said.
Max didn’t respond.
Chapter 10
Max Rupert remembered his first autopsy, the hint of formaldehyde and rotting meat barely noticeable behind the acidic pungency of bile. He watched a doctor pull organs from a dead man’s body, examine them, weigh them, and then put them in jars. The ME worked with an efficiency that could only come from years of experience. It reminded Max of a day when he was a child and he watched his father replace the carburetor on their Dodge Dart. No wasted movements. Every part set aside on the garage floor in an orderly formation. It was nothing to get emotional about—just a task that needed doing.
In the years since that first postmortem, Max found that if he harkened back to that day in his father’s garage, he could better handle watching autopsies. They were bodies, not people. They had parts that needed
“How’d they seem?”
Terry scrunched her face—the look of a woman who had a thought but wasn’t sure about sharing it.
“Anything you can tell us might be helpful,” Max said.
“Well, it’s probably nothing, but when they were here, Ben was being very attentive to Jennavieve.”
“Was that unusual?”
“I don’t know if it was unusual . . . I don’t know them well enough. He just seemed . . . I don’t know . . . maybe ‘overly charming’ might be how I’d describe it. He can be a charming man to begin with, but that day he was floating around here like Gene Kelly. Kept asking Jennavieve if he could refill her drink or get her a napkin, that kind of thing.”
“And how was Jennavieve?”
“She was her normal self. Between the two of them, she’s the serious one. At one point, Ben found an oleander blossom that one of the kids must have broken off, and he brought it over and put it in Jennavieve’s hair. I said ‘Wasn’t that sweet.’ And Jennavieve said ‘It’s all for show.’ I wasn’t sure how to take that. I mean, Jennavieve can be so serious. I didn’t know if she was joking or not.”
The chime on Max’s phone dinged, and he looked to see a text from Maggie Hightower. Starting the postmortem. You want to be here?
“Excuse me,” Max said. “I need to respond.” He texted Maggie back. Go ahead and get started. I’ll be there in a bit . “Sorry about that. So, do you think the Pruitts were having marital problems?”
“Not to my knowledge, but like I said, we weren’t close. If it weren’t for the children being inseparable, we’d probably never see the Pruitts.”
“But people hear things.”
Terry shrugged. “I don’t engage in gossip. There are some neighbors who are nosier than others, but I don’t care to hear that kind of prattle. People know that about me, so I’m usually kept well out of the loop.”
“Suppose I were to track down these nosey neighbors, what might their names be?”
Terry gave Max a look of disapproval. She had no idea how important nosey neighbors were to solving crime. Max held her gaze then raised an eyebrow.
“You might start with Malena Gwin. She lives right across the street from the Pruitts. She tends to have her nose in most things going on around here.”
“I appreciate your help, Ms. Kolander.” Max stood to leave.
Terry walked Max to the front door, and partway to the street, pausing there to have one last moment of privacy. “What’s going to happen to Emma?”
“Her father will be here in a little while. We can put him in touch with professionals to help him break the news to Emma. It’s not going to be easy for her.”
“She’s very quiet, and sweet. This is going to be very hard on her.” Terry glanced over her shoulder at the house. The windows were all empty. “At least she has her father,” Terry said.
Max didn’t respond.
Chapter 10
Max Rupert remembered his first autopsy, the hint of formaldehyde and rotting meat barely noticeable behind the acidic pungency of bile. He watched a doctor pull organs from a dead man’s body, examine them, weigh them, and then put them in jars. The ME worked with an efficiency that could only come from years of experience. It reminded Max of a day when he was a child and he watched his father replace the carburetor on their Dodge Dart. No wasted movements. Every part set aside on the garage floor in an orderly formation. It was nothing to get emotional about—just a task that needed doing.
In the years since that first postmortem, Max found that if he harkened back to that day in his father’s garage, he could better handle watching autopsies. They were bodies, not people. They had parts that needed
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