“Doc. We have positive identification of the deceased as Lisa Wood, age 68, resident of the condos over on Highland Drive. We’re going to go see her husband and make notification. Is there anything you can tell us preliminarily?” Oriole spoke on her cell phone to the ME who was on his way back to the morgue.
“Nothing yet, Oriole. I’ll know a whole lot more tomorrow after I post. I’ll start about 1:00 p.m. Who’s coming to observe?”
“Fred will be there. I have the funeral for Joyce.”
Fred and Oriole drove to the condo to contact Phil Mason, Lisa Wood’s husband. The ultra modern condo rested in the middle of the complex high on a hill just a couple miles from downtown Prescott.
“Who’s on first this time?” Oriole asked her partner.
“I’ll be lead. You watch him.” Fred and Oriole had worked out a plan over the years on which one would be the front runner and which would snoop around and make observations.
Fred rang the doorbell. A tall, handsome, blond haired, blue eyed, surfer-looking dude answered the door. Some 15 years younger than his deceased wife, Phil Mason had preserved his good looks and California tan. His slacks were perfectly tailored complementing his tight waist and a golf shirt from the resort topped the ensemble. A real Rolex circled his wrist and a fine gold chain peeked out from his collar.
“Yes, may I help you?” Mason asked.
“Are you Phil Mason?” Fred asked showing his badge.
“Yes. What is this about?”
“May we come in to talk with you?”
“Of course, forgive my bad manners. Won’t you be seated? May I get you a soft drink or coffee?” Mason was the epitome of polite.
“No thank you. Let’s have a seat. We have some bad news. We need to ask you to come downtown and make an identification. We believe your wife may have met with tragedy.” Fred wanted to be circumspect with the information.
“Lisa? What? An accident? Make an identification, like what, a car?” Color drained from Phil’s face as he sat hard on the overstuffed, beige couch.
“Do you have a picture of Lisa?” Oriole asked.
“There’s a picture of both of us from last Christmas over there on the mantle.”
Oriole moved to the fireplace and picked up the photo knowing that Lisa Wood was indeed gone. “Thank you, may I take this?” She turned to Fred and nodded confirmation of the identity of the woman from Lampiers.
“Tell me what’s going on.” Phil turned to Fred.
“Mr. Mason, we believe your wife is deceased. We’d like to ask you some questions. Who would want to cause Lisa harm?” Fred quietly inquired.
“Harm? Someone harmed Lisa? I don’t believe it. When? She just went down to the office this morning. Call the office and you‘ll see.” Denial was the first stage of grief, and it appeared reality was slow in sinking in for Phil.
“Phil. Who are some of your wife’s associates? Who does she work with?” Oriole tried to get Phil back on track.
“How did this happen? What happened? When did this happen?” More questions from Phil as he stuttered.
“We’re still looking into it. What we need is some background information. Has anything happened recently that we need to know about?”
“What do you mean-happened? What are you talking about?”
“Well, has anyone had an issue with Lisa? You know, was anyone mad at her? Did anyone have a grudge against her?” Fred leaned forward to try for eye contact.
“Everyone loved Lisa. No one had a grudge against her. “
“Besides work was she involved in any community activities, you know like committees or did she volunteer for something?” Fred continued.
“Well, yeah, she worked on the Tea Party committee and on United We Stand. She was doing the graphics for the T-shirts for both as well as working on the steering committee for the Rodeo. She was real busy in the community.” As he spoke, Phil visibly shrunk in his tailored slacks and shirt.
“What about work? Was she having any problems at work?” Oriole was making notes.
“Work? No, of course not. She had taken over as manager at the mortgage company and things were going great. This had been the best quarter ever. She was in line for a raise. In fact, we were going to go out tomorrow night and celebrate.”
“What about her co-workers? Any problems with the staff?”
“No. Well maybe, she had to fire this one gal for dipping into the till. But that was a few months ago. The cops got involved and filed charges against her. I think she’s doing some jail time.” Phil stood up,” I’ve got to make some calls. I have to let her son and daughter know what’s happened. What can I tell them?”
“Phil, have a seat. You can call them in a few minutes. Right now we need some more information. Who was her attorney? Did she have a will? Did anyone owe her money or did she owe anyone money?” Fred and Oriole were taking turns keeping him focused.
“Her attorney is, I mean was, Ms.. Sharpe. She’s handled everything for us, wills, trusts, power of attorney, that stuff. Lisa didn’t owe anyone and no one owed her. Well, except for the kids, she’d loaned money to both of them over the years and they’d signed notes, the amount unpaid comes out of any inheritance. They weren’t happy about that, but Lisa was a great business woman. We had separate accounts and then a joint house account. You know to pay bills for the utilities, mortgage that sort of thing. That‘s all I can think of right now. Are we about done here?”
“Sure, if we have more questions, we’ll be back. I’m sorry for your loss, Phil. If there is anything you need, call one of us.” Fred handed Phil a business card and stood to leave. Fred decided to waive the in--person identification given the confirmation with the photos.
The detectives sat in the SUV out front recapping what they’d gleaned.
“Does it strike you odd, he didn’t cry?” Oriole looked at Fred as he started the car.
“Lots of guys won’t or don’t cry. It’s a man thing. But it did strike me odd that he wasn’t any more upset than he was. It seemed to me he was anxious to get us out of there. He’s younger than Lisa, right? How long they been married? What’s he do for a living? Think Marlowe would have those answers? Maybe we should run out to the ranch and see if she’s still there and ask her.”
“Oh, come on. You just want to siddle up to her. Why didn’t you ask Mason those questions? Why wait and then all of a sudden you need to go see Marlowe for answers? Could it be that you just want to see Marlowe, and if that’s it, just ask her out, again.” A smile plastered itself on Oriole’s face thinking about her partner and her mother together.
“I didn’t ask Mason because I want the answers from someone unbiased. Marlowe may not be totally uninvolved here, but the attorney in her will come forth and she’ll give us straight answers. And for your information, Snoopy, your mom and I have been out together several times since the movies. So there, smarty pants.”
Oriole placed a call to the ranch to let everyone know the status of the investigation and that Marlowe should prepare Summer for the news.
Fred drove towards the ranch in silence for fear any mention of Marlowe would get Oriole started again. And as for Oriole, she smiled most of the way back to the ranch, reflecting on the torment she caused Fred.