“What money?” Joanna asked.
“Her money,” Ron Haskell said. “The money her parents left her. I had lost it all playing the stock market, and I wanted to tell her about it face-to-face.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“No. She wasn’t home. I left a message on her machine,” Haskell said. “I asked her to come down to Pathway that evening so I could see her. I planned to slip out to the road and meet her there—to catch her and flag her down before she ever made it to the guard shack. That was my plan.”
“But then you got put in isolation,” Joanna offered.
Haskell shook his head. “No,” he said. “That was what I intended. I counted on being put in isolation. Otherwise there are chores for clients to do and work sessions to attend. When you’re in isolation, you’re left totally alone. I figured that once it was dark, I’d be able to slip off and meet her without anyone being the wiser.”
“You’re telling us that when you went to make your illicit phone call, you actually planned on being caught?” Joanna asked.
“Absolutely.”
“What happened?”
“It worked out just the way I wanted it to. As soon as it was dark, I made my way out of the isolation cabin and back to the road. I stationed myself in a ditch just the other side of Portal—between Portal and the entrance to Pathway. I waited all night, but Connie never showed up. When she didn’t, I was hurt. I figured that she’d decided not to bother; that she’d found out about the money and had just written me off. When you told me she’d tried to come see me after all, I ...”
Ron Haskell’s voice broke and he lapsed into silence. Joanna’s mind was racing. She had thought his being in isolation had given Haskell an airtight alibi, but she had been wrong. In fact, just as Ernie Carpenter had suggested, it had actually been the opposite. Caroline Parker had told them Haskell had been left alone from Thursday on. That meant he could have been AWOL from Path-way to Paradise for the better part of four days without anyone being the wiser. That would have given him plenty of time to murder his wife and dispose of her body. It also meant that he had no alibi for the night Dora Matthews was murdered, either.
“How long did you stay away from the cabin?’’ Joanna asked.
“I came back just before sunrise Friday morning. I had sat on the ground all night long, so my back was killing me, and I was heartsick that Connie hadn’t shown up. I was sure she loved me enough that she’d come talk to me and at least give me a chance to explain, but by the time I came back to the cabin that morning, I finally had to come face-to-face with the fact that I’d really lost her. That’s why it hurt so much when I found out she had tried to come see me after all. She really did try, after everything I had done.”
“While you were waiting by the road,” Frank said, “did you see any other vehicles?”
“A couple, I guess.”
“Anything distinctive about them? Anything that stands out in your mind?”
“Not really. The cars I saw go by were most likely going on up to Paradise—the village of Paradise, I mean. I’ve been told there are a few cabins up there and one or two B and Bs. One of them did stop at the guard shack for a few minutes, but then whoever it was left again almost right away. I figured whoever it was must have been lost and that they had stopped to ask directions.”
“What about insurance?” Joanna asked.
“Insurance?” Ron Haskell repeated. “We had health insurance, and long-term care—”
“What about life insurance?”
“There isn’t much of that,” he said. “Stephen Richardson, Connie’s old man, was the old-fashioned type, not somebody you’d find out pushing for equal rights for women or equal insurance, either. There was a sizable insurance policy on him when he died, but all he carried on Claudia, his wife, was a small five-thousand-dollar paid-up whole-life policy. Connie told me one time that her father had started ten-thousand-dollar policies on each of his daughters, but Maggie cashed hers in as soon as he turned ownership of the policy over to her. Connie still had hers.”
“For ten thousand dollars?” Joanna asked.
Ron Haskell nodded. “Not very much, is it?” he returned.
“But you’re the sole beneficiary?”
“Yes,” he said. “At least I think I am. That policy was paid up, so it’s not like we were getting bills for premiums right and left. I know Connie talked about changing the beneficiary designation from her sister over to me right after we got married, but I’m not sure whether or not she ever got around to doing it.”
“And that’s all the insurance there is—just that one policy?” Joanna asked.
Ron Haskell met Joanna’s gaze and held it without wavering. “As far as I know, there was only that one. There’s one on me for Connie’s benefit but not the other way around. I know you’re thinking I killed her for her money,” he said accusingly. “But I didn’t. I didn’t have to. When it came to money, Connie had already given me everything, Sheriff Brady. What was hers was mine. I was doing day-trades and looking for a way to give back what she’d already given me. By the time it was over, I sure as hell wasn’t looking for a way to get more.”
“Did your wife have any enemies?”
“How would she? Connie hardly ever left the house.”
“Do you have any enemies, Mr. Haskell?” Joanna asked. “Someone who might think that by getting to her they could get to you?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of other than Maggie MacFerson, if you want to count her.”
The room was silent for some time before Ron Haskell once again met Joanna’s gaze. “If you’re asking me all these questions,” he said, “it must mean you still don’t have any idea who killed her.”
Joanna nodded. “It’s true,” she said.
“But last night, when I talked to you out at Pathway, you said something about a series of carjackings. What about those?”
“Nobody died in any of those incidents,” Joanna replied. “In fact, with all of the previous cases there weren’t even any serious injuries.”
“And nobody was raped,” Haskell added bleakly.
“That’s right,” Joanna said. “Nobody else was raped.”
“Anything else then?” Ron asked. “Any other questions?”
Joanna glanced in Frank’s direction. He shook his head. “Not that I can think of at the moment,” Joanna said. “But this is just a preliminary session. I’m sure my detectives will have more questions later. When you get back to Phoenix, you’ll be staying at your house?”
“If I can get in,” he said. “There’s always a chance that Connie or Maggie changed the locks, but yes, that’s where I expect to be.” “If you’re not, you’ll let us know?”
“Right,” he said, but he made no effort to rise.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Haskell?”
Ron nodded. “When I came in this morning, I had to fight my way through a whole bunch of reporters, including some that I’m sure were from Maggie’s paper.” He looked longingly at Joanna’s private entrance. “Is there any way you could get me back to my car out in the parking lot without my having to walk through them again?”
“Sure,” Joanna said. “You can go out this way. Chief Deputy Montoya here will give you a ride directly to your car.”
“Thanks,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’d really appreciate it.”
After Frank left with Ron Haskell in tow, Joanna sat at her desk, rewinding the tape and mulling over the interview. On the one hand, Connie Haskell’s widowed husband seemed genuinely grief-stricken that his wife was dead, and it didn’t look as though he stood to profit from her death. Ron Haskell may not have said so directly, but he had certainly implied that, considering the amounts of money he had squandered playing the stock market, a ten-thousand-dollar life insurance policy was a mere drop in the bucket and certainly not worth the risk of committing a murder. It also struck Joanna that he obviously held himself responsible for Connie Haskell’s death though all the while claiming that he himself had not been directly involved.