Maybe that explained why Garfield, at first, had agreed to listen to her. But something had happened during their conversation. The ground had shifted. He’d grown increasingly anxious. Had she actually hit on something? By accident?
Was it when she said his wife was cold? When she said something about the car being off the road? Had those comments been close enough to the truth to make Garfield think she actually knew what had happened?
It was time to bail. Maybe—and she couldn’t believe she was even thinking of this—even give him back his money. Say something like, “You know what? Whatever vision I may have had, it’s gone. I’m not picking up anything. The signals have faded. The flashes, they’re over. So I think the best thing to do would be for me to return your money and I’ll just be on my—”
But just then, a flash of pink before her eyes. Not a vision this time, though. It was the sash, from the robe.
And now Garfield was looping it around her neck and drawing it tight.
Thirteen
Milford police detective Rona Wedmore identified herself at the Home Depot customer service counter and explained that she was investigating the disappearance of Eleanor Garfield, wife of one of their employees.
“We wanted to talk to any of the people Mr. Garfield works with, and see if they can help us in any way,” Rona said.
A short round woman in an orange apron said, “Oh yeah?”
“We’re thinking, maybe Mrs. Garfield knows or is friends with some of her husband’s co-workers.”
“I don’t think she really knows anyone who works here,” the woman said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met her, don’t think I’ve even seen her in the store, although we all feel just terrible about what’s happened, you know. We feel real bad for Wendell. What a horrible thing, you know?”
Rona looked at the woman’s name tag. “You think you probably know Mr. Garfield as well as anyone around here, Sylvia?”
The woman shrugged. “I know him okay.” She leaned across the counter so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. “But I guess, if you want the one who knows him best, you should probably talk to Laci.”
“Laci?”
“Laci Harmon,” Sylvia said, nodding knowingly.
“Are Ms. Harmon and Mr. Garfield friends, Sylvia?”
“Well, I don’t want to be sayin’ nothin’ that’s going to cause anyone any trouble,” Sylvia said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothin’, nothin’ at all. I’m just sayin’ that if you want to talk to someone who knows Wendell, you know, pretty intimately, she’d be the one to talk to.” She put exactly the right emphasis on the word, hitting it not too hard, but just hard enough.
“I see,” Detective Wedmore said. “Do you know if she’s here now?”
“She is. You could probably find her over in ’lectrical or maybe lighting fixtures.”
“Which way’s that?”
Rona wandered in the direction Sylvia had pointed. She only found customers in the aisle displaying electrical parts, but there was a woman stocking shelves under an array of lit light fixtures. Wedmore could feel the collective heat of them overhead.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Are you Laci Harmon?”
The woman turned with a start. Wedmore put her in her mid-forties, about a hundred and sixty pounds. Nicely round in the right places, and a little too round in the wrong ones. She had brown hair that hung straight down, wore no makeup, and looked at Wedmore through a pair of oversized black-rimmed glasses.
“Yes?”
Wedmore showed her ID. “I’m trying to find out what happened to Eleanor Garfield.”
“Oh!” the woman said. “Ellie! It’s a horrible thing.”
“We’re certainly hoping it’s nothing too horrible,” Wedmore said. “We’re talking to everyone we can who might be able to help us, and I understand you and Mr. Garfield are co-workers.”
Laci Harmon’s neck flushed. “Well sure, we all work with Wendell. He has lots of co-workers. I’m certainly not the only one.”
“I understand you might know him a little better than some of the others here.”
“Who told you that?” Laci asked.
“Is that not true?”
Laci shrugged. “I mean, we talked, sure. You see someone at work every day, you say hello, you kid around, that kind of thing. No big deal.”
“I didn’t say that it was,” Wedmore said. “You seem a bit nervous, Ms. Harmon. Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Totally fine. I just, you know, don’t get interrogated by the police every day.”
“Does this feel like an interrogation to you? I’m just asking a couple of questions.”
Laci Harmon laughed nervously. “I guess, you know, we’re all a bit on edge, that’s all. Worried about Wendell. You know, because of Ellie.”
“Of course, I can understand that. Do you know Mrs. Garfield?”
Laci shook her head. “No, I don’t. I may have met her once, at a staff thing a couple of years ago, but I wouldn’t know her if I tripped over her.” She put hand to her mouth. “That didn’t sound right. Like I would trip over her. Like she’d be lying on the ground or anything.” A nervous laugh. “God, I’m sounding like some kind of idiot.”
Wedmore didn’t say anything, but was thinking the woman’s name tag should read GUILTY.
“Like I said, I’m just so worried about her, hoping everything is okay.”
“Why are you so worried about her if you don’t really know her?”
“You don’t have to know someone to be worried about them. I mean, when something happens to someone who’s related to someone you care about, I don’t think that’s unusual or anything.”
“You care about Wendell?” Wedmore asked.
“Okay, maybe that was a poor choice of words. I care about him the way I would care about anyone I work with, you know? That’s all.” There was a trickle of sweat running down her temple and she wiped it away. “It’s so hot under all these lights.”
Rona felt the same way, but said, “I feel fine.” She could have offered to move this conversation someplace else, but decided this was turning out to be a very good spot. “How long have you known Mr. Garfield?”
“Well, let’s see, I started here three years ago. I’d been working at Sears, but when they started advertising for jobs here I applied because it’s closer to my house, and Wendell was already working here at the time, so I guess it would be three years. I’ve known him for three years. Yes, that would be right. Three years.” She laughed.
“How has he seemed to you lately?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. How has he seemed? Has he been his usual self? Has he been acting as though he’s been under more stress lately?”
“Of course he’s going to be under stress. I mean, his wife is missing. Who wouldn’t be stressed out by that?”
“So you’ve spoken to him since his wife disappeared?”
“Hmm?”
“I said, you’ve spoken to him since his wife disappeared?”
“Uh, let me think?” She ran her fingers over her chin in an exaggerated display of concentration.
“Ms. Harmon, it’s only been about three days. You have trouble recollecting things that recent?”
“No, no, I was just trying to remember when exactly I’d called him. You know, to tell him that we were all thinking about him here at the store, that if there was anything we could do, to let us know.”
“And when exactly do you think that was?”
“I believe it was this morning,” she said. She forced a smile and nodded at how successful her recollection had been. “Yes, in fact, it was this morning.”
“Excellent,” Detective Wedmore said. “And what did Mr. Garfield have to say?”
“Oh, just, you know, thank you for calling, it’s been a very difficult time, blah blah blah.” She was nodding so much she reminded Wedmore of one of those dog ornaments you used to see in th
e back windows of cars.
Rather than say anything, Wedmore folded her arms and looked at her.
“What?” Laci Harmon said.
Wedmore still said nothing.
“You already know all this, don’t you?” Laci asked.
“Know what?”
“About the phone call.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I knew it,” she said. “I told him you might be doing it.”
“What would that be, Ms. Harmon?”
“Tapping his line. That’s what you’ve done, isn’t it? You’ve tapped his line. You’re listening in on his phone calls. I know you can’t admit it, I get that, but it just makes sense that you’d be doing it.”
Wedmore thought carefully before she said, “When you told Mr. Garfield you thought the police might be tapping his line, why did you say that?”
“Oh God, so it is true? Oh God, no.”
“Why do you think we would tap his line, Laci?”
“I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it.”
“To do with what, Laci?”
“I mean, I don’t know what he did with her. I don’t even know if he did do anything with her. But if he did, you have to know, I had nothing to do with it. I would never get involved in anything like that. I have children.”
Detective Wedmore nodded. “How long have you been having an affair with him?”
She put her hand on her forehead, rolled her eyes up in the direction of the hot lights. “Oh no, this is awful, this is—”
“Do you think Wendell Garfield did something with his wife?”
“I can’t—oh, this is just—please don’t tell my husband.”
“He doesn’t know about the affair?”
“He has no idea. Please, please—he’s coming back later today from Schenectady with the kids. Please promise me you won’t tell him anything about this.”
“Ms. Harmon, I’m afraid I can’t make any—”
Wedmore’s cell phone rang. She took it from her pocket, put it to her ear and said, “Wedmore.”
“Kip here.” Another detective.
“What’s up?”
“The daughter in your missing mom case just walked in. Think she wants to tell you something.”
Fourteen
Rona Wedmore found Melissa Garfield sitting in the interrogation room with Kip Jennings. Kip wasn’t the lead detective on this case so she was babysitting Melissa until Wedmore’s arrival.
“Hey,” Kip said when Rona entered. “We were just talking about kids.”
Melissa’s eyes glistened. She wasn’t crying right now, but it was a safe bet she had been, at some point, since walking into the station.
“Hi, Melissa,” Rona said. “How you doin’? I know that’s a dumb question, considering what you’re going through, but how are you holding up?”
“Not so great.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“Melissa would like to talk to you about her dad,” Kip said, getting out of the chair and stepping aside for her colleague.
“Sure, I can understand that,” Rona said, taking a seat as Kip slipped out of the room. “He’s going through a lot. He must be worried sick. Just like you.”
Melissa nodded. “I want to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“But before I tell you, I want you to promise me something.”
“Promise you something about what?”
“About my dad.”
“Well,” Rona said, “it’s kind of hard for me to promise you something before I know what it is you’re asking.”
“I want you to go easy on him.”
“Go easy on him?”
Melissa nodded. “Because of, you know, whaddya call them? Extenuating circumstances. I mean, I know, my coming here, and telling you things, that it might get my dad in trouble, but I want you to promise that you’ll take everything into consideration.”
“That’s what we do,” Rona said. “We try to look at everything. But I can’t promise you right now that there won’t be consequences for things that your father might have done.”
“I just hate getting him into trouble,” Melissa said. “Even though I know that’s probably what’s going to happen.”
“You know what I think, Melissa? I think you have to do what you know is right. I think you’re carrying around a huge burden right now, and doing the right thing is going to go a long way to relieving that burden. That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Sort of,” Melissa said. “You know what? I know I only just sat down, but I really have to pee. What with the baby and everything.”
“Sure, okay,” Rona said. “Let me show you where to go.”
Melissa went to the bathroom and a couple of minutes later they were back sitting across from each other. Melissa had one hand on the table and the other on her belly.
“I really love my dad,” she said. “I really do.”
“Of course. And I bet you love your mom, too.”
Melissa looked down.
“Melissa,” Detective Wedmore said gently. “Can you tell me . . . is your mother still alive?”
Melissa mumbled something so softly Rona couldn’t hear what she’d said. “What was that?”
“No.”
“No, she’s not alive?”
“That’s right. Dad’s going to be really mad at me for telling you this.”
“We can make sure he doesn’t hurt you.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me, but he’s going to be super pissed.”
“I can certainly understand that,” Rona said. “But I’m guessing you want to do right by your mother.”
“Yeah, I’ve kind of been thinking that, too.”
“Why don’t we start with you telling me where your mother is.”
“She’s in the car.”
The detective nodded. “This would be your mother’s car. The Nissan.”
“That’s right.”
“And where’s the car, Melissa?”
“It’s at the bottom of the lake.”
The detective nodded again. “Okay. What lake would that be?”
“I don’t know the name of it, but I think I could show you how to get there. It’s about an hour’s drive, I guess. Although, even if I take you there, I don’t know where exactly it is in the lake. And the ice has probably already frozen over. It’s been cold. I just know she’s in the lake. In the car.”
“Okay, that’s not a problem. We have divers for that kind of thing.”
Melissa looked surprised. “They can go in the water even when it’s super cold? And when there’s ice?”
“Oh yeah, they’ve got these special wetsuits that help keep them warm.”
“I couldn’t do that. Swim in freezing cold water. I can’t even go in a pool unless it’s like eighty-five or ninety.”
Wedmore gave her a warm smile. “I’m like that, too. It’s got to be soup before I’ll get in. So, Melissa, your father, he put the car in the water?”
“Yep. He drove out onto the lake, where the ice was thin. Then he waited for the car to go through.” She started to tear up. “And then it did.”
“How do you know this, Melissa? Did your father tell you what he did?”
“I saw it. I saw the car go through the ice.”
“Where were you?”
“I was on the shore, watching.” A solitary tear ran down her cheek. She bit her lip, trying to hold it together.
“Why were you there?”
“Dad needed a car to come back. I drove up behind him.”
“So you saw all this?”
Melissa nodded.
“Melissa, do you know a woman named Laci Harmon?”
“I know who she is. She works at the Home Depot with my dad.”
“Do you know whether they’re close friends?”
Melissa cast her eyes down. “I think they’ve been having an affair.”
“How long do you think that’s been going on?”
/> “I don’t know. I only saw them the one time.”
“When was that?”
“Like, a month ago? I was driving past a hotel and I saw my dad’s car and I saw her in the front seat with him. They were kind of making out a little.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Sad. And kind of . . . creepy.”
“Did you tell your father you’d seen him with this woman?”
“No.”
“What about your mother? Did you tell her?”
“No, I didn’t tell her. I kept hoping maybe I was wrong, maybe I didn’t see what I thought I saw, so I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Do you think that’s why your father killed your mother? Because of this woman? That maybe he wanted to run away with her?”
Melissa blinked. “What?”
Wedmore repeated the question, and added, “It happens, you know. A man starts seeing another woman, his wife finds out about it, they have a fight, and then, well, you know. The wife ends up dead.”
“Is that what you think happened?”
“It’s one possibility. But maybe you know differently. Do you know why your father killed your mother?”
“Dad didn’t kill her. Is that what you’ve been thinking?”
Now it was Wedmore’s turn to look surprised.
“Isn’t that why you’re here, Melissa?”
The dead woman’s daughter sighed and shook her head. “I guess I should start at the beginning.”
Fifteen
When Keisha Ceylon saw the pink sash drop past her eyes, she reached up instinctively to get her fingers between it and her neck. But she wasn’t quick enough. Wendell Garfield wrapped it tightly around her throat and began to twist.
“I swear, I don’t know how you know, but you’re not going to tell anyone,” he said.
Keisha clawed at the sash, her fingernails ripping into her own skin as she tried to loosen his hold on her. But the satiny ribbon was already cutting deep into her neck and there wasn’t a hope of getting her fingers in there.
Garfield was leaning down over her, his mouth close to her right ear. His breath was hot against her cheek.
She tried to say something, to scream, but with her windpipe squeezed, nothing came out. Not a sound. She felt her eyes bulging. She kicked at the floor, dug into the carpet with her heels.