ASHLEY’S PARENTS CLAIMED that the lack of a note and the fact that no one bothered to check on her that evening made her death seem suspicious. But after Gretchen’s article was published, the suicide seemed especially plausible. Without coming right out and saying that Ashley was a murderer, the article nevertheless laid the groundwork for suggesting she had both motive and opportunity. The suicide could have been an understandable act of remorse.
The icing on the conspiracy cake was getting Lisa, Brian’s girlfriend, to admit Brian had mentioned a conversation he’d had with Ashley. He’d referred to her as a desperate woman who was going to be disappointed in life. Lisa also admitted that she knew a little about Brian’s research and had passed along her concerns to her mother, Ashley’s schoolmate. If you drew all of the connections on a whiteboard, Ashley was clearly at the center of the chart. She’d committed two murders to help her husband win his race. But it couldn’t be proven, so there was no real closure. Unless you counted her death as closure.
The police put the murders of Brian Norcross and Jim Gossett in the “solved” pile. Brian’s research hadn’t surfaced, but Gretchen’s follow-up article raised enough questions about the Mann family’s business practices that their legal problems could hound them for years. Still, as Randy Mann had pointed out to me earlier, with their resources and connections, they would probably go on living the good life and doing as they pleased.
Meanwhile, life at Penny-wise returned to normal. I received an assignment to investigate a young boy being bullied at school. It wasn’t exactly a ho-hum case, but it didn’t feel like a nail-biter either.
Everything returned to life as usual on the home front, too. More or less, that is. Mom had another three-person date lined up. This time she had requested a recent picture before agreeing to meet for dinner. I had a vision of someone having to hold up a newspaper with the date on it as proof the picture was current, but I didn’t ask how she went about it. As far as my love life was concerned, Mom managed to casually mention the very polite and attractive detective several times, before she finally gave up. I did agree he was very polite and very attractive, but I didn’t tell her that. Meanwhile, Jason continued watching too much news on TV. Mara spent too much time on the phone. I ripped the latest article on single mothers off my refrigerator and tossed it in the garbage. And we still hadn’t named the dog.
Two weeks later, Yuri and I went out for a drink on a Friday evening before heading home. He was wearing new glasses that looked just like his old ones, but at least they didn’t tilt. We had just placed our order when I got a call from Will. “Hey,” he said. “I’m at my favorite bar and guess who else is here?”
“Who?”
“P.W.”
“Why are you calling?” I asked. I put the cell on speaker, and Yuri and I leaned over it in anticipation.
“Because she isn’t alone.”
“Come on, Will,” Yuri said impatiently. “There must be more to this—you wouldn’t call just to tell us that.”
“No, I wouldn’t, would I?”
“Sooo?” I prompted. “Come on, spill it.”
“Okay, okay. Drum roll….” He made some thumping sounds on his phone. “Because … she’s with an attractive Russian man, that’s why.”
“How do you know he’s Russian?”
“I’m not an investigator for nothing,” he said. “How do you think?”
“The old drop something and listen for a minute trick?” Yuri asked.
“They shouldn’t sit near a low wall if they really want privacy.”
“Did you get a picture?” I asked.
“What do you think?!” I could almost hear Will’s smile through the phone.
“You did good,” Yuri said, giving Will rare praise. “We can put Adele on it on Monday.”
After I hung up, we held up our glasses for a toast. “To discovering the story behind the woman,” Yuri said,
“Hear, hear. To P.W. and the pursuit of truth.”