Cam puts a tray of mini muffins in the oven and turns to face me. “That would most likely implicate Lisa Porter as the killer. She could have discovered the spot where Simon met his mistress and then decided it was fitting to kill him in that location.”
“She might know who the mistress is after all. I think we need to pay her another visit today.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Our morning customers start to stream in, and Erica Daniels is among them. She motions that she’d like to speak to me, so I wave her toward the table in the back corner.
Erica takes a seat. “I don’t have much time, but I felt awful for dumping that information on you last night. I hope I’m not causing trouble. I don’t want to be a gossip, but since a man was murdered, I felt I should share anything I know that might be relevant to the case.”
I reach across the table and place my hand on hers. “I’m glad you told me. It gave me a lead to follow up on. Cam and I are going to head out soon to speak with a possible suspect.”
“Then you know who the mistress is,” Erica says.
“No, we don’t.” I really don’t want to share any other details of the case with her. I know that’s unfair since she might have given me a huge lead, but I’m not even supposed to be looking into this murder.
“I don’t understand.” She tilts her head to one side. “If you don’t know who the mistress is, who are you going to—oh!” She covers her mouth. “His wife. Of course. You think she found out about the affair and killed him.”
“I don’t know anything for sure yet.”
Erica nods. “Not to be a line cutter, but do you think I could get a coffee to-go? I have to be at the school very soon.”
“Of course.” I get up and hurry around the counter. Jamar came in early this morning. I saw him last night after Erica left my apartment. He said he needed some extra cash to fix an issue with his car and asked if he could work a few more hours this week. He and Robin usually don’t come in at opening time. I get Erica’s coffee and hand it to her. She tries to take out her wallet, but I hold up a hand. “On me. Thanks for the info.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck, and thanks for the coffee.” She lifts her cup slightly before walking out.
I’m glad Mickey isn’t here yet. He’d want to know why one of the Bennett Falls High School teachers was here to see me. Not that Erica never comes into Cup of Jo, but this isn’t her typical stop on her way to work.
“Good morning, Jo,” Mrs. Marlow says, walking up to the counter instead of staying in line.
“You’re up early today,” I tell her.
“My back isn’t what it used to be. The blasted thing keeps me up most of the night. I figured if I’m up anyway, I might as well get myself put together and come beat Mickey to the morning gossip.”
“How did you hurt your back?” I ask, giving Jamar some serious side eye. He’s always dancing with Mrs. Marlow, and it makes me nervous.
She smiles at me. “Don’t you worry, Jo. It wasn’t dancing with Jamar. He’s a good boy. He’s always so careful with me. You should have seen him dancing with that girl of his, though. Now if her back starts acting up, I won’t be surprised, even at her young age.” She leans toward me. “So, what news do you have for me? I’d like to beat Mickey to the punch.” She fakes throwing a punch. She’s in rare form this morning.
“You know I can’t discuss cases.”
“Weren’t you just talking to Erica Daniels about it?” Man, this woman is sharp.
“Erica and I happen to be friends. What makes you think she was here to talk to me about a case?” I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
“Joanna Coffee, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. I know when you’re lying. You and Erica Daniels are no more of friends than John Englert and I are.” She gets a far-off look in her eyes.
“Are you talking about Mr. Englert the bank manager?”
She smiles and bobs her head. “I wish he and I were friends.”
Mr. Englert is in his early forties, so there’s quite the age gap between him and Mrs. Marlow, but she’s clearly smitten.
“Well, for your information, Erica and I live in the same apartment building. I’ve been to her apartment, and she’s been to mine. I think we’re a little closer than you and Mr. Englert are. Sorry.”
“Shame.” She shakes her head. “He’s married, too, you know. I’ve seen his wife at the grocery store. She’s a homely little thing.”
“Mrs. Marlow, that’s not nice,” I say.
“Sorry, dear. I suppose it’s my jealousy talking. There’s a reason it’s referred to as the green monster. It isn’t pretty.” She leans toward me. “She didn’t grow up in Bennett Falls, though. She moved here later in life, after she met John.” It’s no secret Mrs. Marlow is protective over anyone who was born and raised in Bennett Falls. I think in a way she considers us all her family members. The woman doesn’t have much family of her own to speak of, none that lives anywhere near here at least. “Don’t you hate it when outsiders come to our town and take our men?”
I hold up my left hand. “I can’t say I can relate.”
She takes my hand between hers. “No. You and Cam are perfect together, real Bennett Falls residents through and through.”
I’m glad she’s not bringing up the brief time I lived in California to get away from Quentin and Samantha.
“I’ll bet you anything the person who killed that security guard was from out of town.”
“Why do you think that?” I ask.
“Just a feeling. We don’t kill our own, Jo.”
She’s wrong there. I’ve helped the BFPD with enough cases to know plenty of residents have killed other residents here. They don’t discriminate between who was born and raised in town and who wasn’t.
“Mrs. Marlow, you were married for a while, right?”
She presses a hand to her heart. Her husband passed away years ago. “Yes, I was.” She never really talks about him. I’m not even sure what his name was. Everyone in town sort of knows not to mention him for fear of upsetting Mrs. Marlow. Of course, now that she’s crushing on the bank manager, John Englert, maybe she’ll open up more about her husband.
“How would you have reacted if you thought he was cheating on you?”
She raises a finger in the air. “I knew you’d give me some gossip.”
I press a finger to my lips in the universal sign for “Shh.”
“My husband was a good man. He’d never stray. But I imagine if he did and I suspected, I would have hit him over the head with my rolling pin.” She crosses her arms. “I have a big, heavy one, mind you. I would have hit him again and again, just to make sure he was good and dead.”
Kind of like how the killer stabbed Simon Porter over and over again to make sure he was dead. Mrs. Marlow has just confirmed that an angry and betrayed wife would want to exact vengeance in a personal and brutal way. The question is, did Lisa Porter act on that desire?
Cam and I arrive back at Lisa Porter’s house around ten in the morning. We had an unusually large crowd due to a youth camp group in town. Turns out, they’re staying at the camp ground where King’s Cabins is located, and a group of environmental specialists will be teaching the kids all about the outdoors. That’s the group that was in Cup of Jo this morning while the camp counsellors wrangled up the kids for breakfast.
I fully intend to deliver some coffee and baked goods to King’s Cabins later so I can hopefully find out more about the owner, Jesse King. The timing is too perfect to not capitalize on it.
Lisa Porter’s car is in the driveway again when we pull up to her house. Next door, a young woman rushes out the front door and into her car. I’m willing to bet she overslept and is late for work.
Cam rings the doorbell, and Lisa Porter is less than enthused when she sees us back here. “Good morning,” Cam says with a smile.
“I thought it was. Why are you here again?” She crosses her arms. “I talked to a police officer, and he told me there aren’t any consultants working on this case. So who are you really?”
“Oh, you mean Officer Liberman. He was brought onto the case later,” I say. “He wasn’t aware of our involvement yet when he spoke with you. He knows now.” I really hope she doesn’t follow up with him to confirm my story.
“I already told the police everything I know. I have nothing more to say. Simon and I were separated. If you want information, talk to the woman he was seeing.”
“That’s the problem. We don’t know who she is. That’s why we’re here. We need your help finding her.”
Lisa Porter uncrosses her arms and places her hand on the door. “What makes you think I know who she is?”
“You must have some idea. There had to be clues. Please think hard. If this woman killed Simon, don’t you think she should pay for it?”
“She has a lot to pay for. She ruined my marriage.” Lisa recrosses her arms.
“Then help us find her. Please,” I say.
“All I know is she wore makeup at least two shades darker than mine.” Lisa Porter has very fair skin, so that doesn’t narrow anything down for us since most people have skin darker than hers.
“Did you notice any perfume smells?” Cam asks.
She shakes her head. “Simon wore cologne. I guess that should have tipped me off because he was sitting at home out of work. What did he need cologne for?”
To cover up the smell of his mistress’s perfume, probably.
“Do you know the hotel being built on Ridgeway Court is sitting on a plot of land that used to be an open field?” I ask.
Lisa looks down at her feet, which I now notice are bare. My eyes raise slightly, and I see she’s wearing her wedding band, but on her right hand instead of the left.
“You still wear your wedding ring?” I ask.
She covers her hand with the other. “It’s a pretty ring. Why should I stop wearing it just because my husband was a cheating…” She stops herself from finishing the sentence.
This woman is clearly conflicted. She still loved him after he cheated on her. And I think she hates that. She’s not just angry with Simon. She’s angry with herself. “You thought he’d stop when you suggested the divorce.”
She bites her lower lip. “Stupid, huh?”
“You were going to forgive him if he left her and recommitted to your marriage, weren’t you?”
“I gave him an ultimatum. I said he could stop seeing her, and we could start over. I suggested a picnic.”
“At that grassy area on Ridgeway Court,” I say for her.
She scoffs. “You should have seen his face when I suggested it. That’s when I knew. It was their place, and I was never getting my husband back.”
She admitted to knowing about her husband’s meeting spot with his mistress.
“Mrs. Porter, did you go see Simon at work the night he was murdered?”
She bursts into tears. “The divorce was almost finalized. I couldn’t go through with it. I still loved him. I do to this day. I tried to reason with him. Tried to make him see we could fix things, go to couples’ counseling.”
“But he wouldn’t listen, would he?” I ask.
“He told me to leave. That he was working and couldn’t deal with me.” She slams her open palm against her chest. “I’m his wife! And he didn’t have time for me.” She’s full-on sobbing now.
I reach inside my purse and send a text to Quentin, telling him to get to Lisa Porter’s house immediately. I hate to bother him when he’s under so much stress and isn’t even working the case anymore, but I don’t know who else to tell since I don’t have Officer Liberman’s cell number. I pull a tissue out of my purse and hand it to Lisa so she thinks that’s all I was doing.
“Thank you,” she says.
“What happened next?” I ask.
The sobs start up again. “I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t mean to do it. But I couldn’t let him divorce me.”
Did she just confess to murder?