This allowed her to switch gears, gain a different angle of view, getting her out of her own head and away from the deaths of her family, and the lost loved ones of Levi and David. Although going from those tragedies to another was hardly a change of pace, it did provide an opportunity for her to look at something new that was possibly related, and with fresh eyes.
Kay’s house was a modest bungalow in a clean, quiet neighborhood. Painted a light blue with flower beds crowding the porch, a tiny tree providing almost no shade to its side of the postage-stamp lawn, the place exuded a warm, homey feel that belied any turmoil within. Jordan took off her helmet, shook her hair free, and strode up the short front walk.
She rang the bell and Kay opened the door almost at once, a hint of a smile on the careworn face. She looked typically neat but not prim in a denim skirt and a pale blue blouse, her white-touched red hair in a loose bun.
“So nice to see you, Jordan, away from group. Come in, come in.”
“Nice seeing you, too,” Jordan said.
Kay led Jordan into a smallish living room dominated by rows of shelved Hummel figurines covering most of one wall, the overflow in glass curio cabinets that straddled the archway into the dining area. Little eyes stared at them.
Slightly embarrassed, Kay said, “I see you noticing the Hummels.”
Jordan nodded. How could she not?
“They were Katherine’s children, in a way. I say that because she and Walt never had any kids — they couldn’t have any... but she made a sort of family out of them.”
“Oh.”
“They kind of overwhelm my little place, don’t they? They looked nicer in Katherine and Walt’s place.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Funny thing is, I’ve kept buying them, you know, each year’s issue, since...”
“Well,” Jordan said, “they’re very nice.”
“Let’s sit down, shall we?”
The hostess gestured toward the small floral sofa and matching chair, near a coffee table across from a low-slung stand with a flat-screen television and cable box. A peace lily in a vase perched on another tiny table.
Jordan sat on the chair, more comfortable than it looked, and set her backpack and helmet at her feet.
“Something to drink, dear?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Nervously, Kay sat at the near end of the sofa.
Jordan said, “We don’t have to do this. It can wait. Or we can never do it.”
Kay sat silent for a long moment. Had Jordan’s bluntness offended the woman?
Jordan said, “It would be good if you could. I just mean, we don’t have to...”
“I want to,” Kay said. “No. That’s not right... I need to. If we can talk about this, and find an explanation for why Walt would do such a thing to himself and Katherine... or even learn that perhaps he wasn’t responsible... then maybe I can start to understand... or to process it, or at least... accept it.”
Yanking her laptop from her backpack, Jordan said, “Cool. Then let’s get started.”
Kay, clearly apprehensive, nonetheless nodded.
Logging on, using her cell phone as a hot spot, Jordan said, “Levi showed me how to access the police file. I’ve read it and there’s not a lot to it.”
Shaking her head, Kay said, “I tell you, they were happy, Walt and Katherine. I knew they were. Walt had no reason to do anything like that.”
“The only thing that really jumped out at me is the lack of any sign of struggle. If the police assumptions are correct, your sister just stretched out on the bed and let her husband shoot her.”
Kay shuddered. “I can’t imagine that happening. I don’t think it’s possible Katherine would do such a thing. The police insist these... these complicit murder-slash-suicides are more common than you’d think.”
Jordan nodded. “That sometimes people just give up.”
“Yes. But even so, to die by gunshot? I always thought a couple that decided to die together took sleeping pills and maybe went to their garage and turned on the engine and...”
Kay began to weep. Tissues were already waiting on the coffee table — the woman had prepared for the occasion. Jordan waited politely, feeling uncomfortable but resigned.
Finally Jordan said, “Is it possible they were having some sort of trouble — like you said, health or money or something — and Katherine just never told you?”
“Katherine told me everything.” A sad smile touched the tortured face. “Too much, sometimes. I had to hear all about how Walt was such a great lover and how big he was and this and that that they did in bed. You can’t un-hear such things, you know.”
Tell me about it, Jordan thought.
“But that’s something positive in their lives,” Jordan said. “Maybe if it was something negative, she wouldn’t be so quick to bring it up — like... an affair?”
“Never.”
“Or a terminal condition?”
“Katherine enjoyed sharing any medical woes, her own or those of her friends. No, I’ve racked my brain for a cause that might be behind it. If it’s there, I haven’t been able to find it.”
“Okay. Financial problems?”
“No. Walt had a brother who is pretty well-off and would have helped out, in any case. And after we sold the house, Walt’s brother and I split up everything.”
She obviously got the Hummels, Jordan thought.
Kay was saying, “There were hardly any outstanding bills. Just utilities, that kind of thing. They were a rare couple who lived within their means.”
Jordan changed tactics. “Let’s go back to the beginning. Sorry to ask, but you need to take me through this again.”
Kay told the tale of going into the house and finding the two bodies. By the finish, tears had returned, and the box of tissues proved handy. But Jordan didn’t know any more than she had before.
“They were on the bed,” Jordan asked, “side by side?”
“Yes.” Kay was winding a tissue around her index finger, as she had at the group meeting where she’d shared the same story.
Jordan had the police report up on the laptop screen now. “The autopsy indicates no sign of drugs in their system.”
“They took good care of themselves. No recreational drugs, no smoking, very little drinking. Even very little prescription medicine, just over the counter. And if there was an autopsy, wouldn’t any terminal condition, like cancer, show up?”
“Probably, but not necessarily. They would be looking to make sure Walt and Katherine weren’t deceased before the gunshot wounds.”
Kay blinked at her. “How would that be possible?”
“If someone killed them by some other means, poison maybe, and tried to cover it up as a faked murder-suicide.”
“I never thought of that.”
Jordan was scrolling down the screen. “No crime scene pictures on the site, just the final report. That’s standard.”
Kay was just listening.
“So,” Jordan said, sighing, smiling, “I’m afraid I need you to re-create the scene for me. Are you up to that?”
Kay drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and nodded.
“You need to picture it in your mind. I know it’s nowhere you want to go, Kay, but please. Put yourself there. Shut your eyes, if it helps.”
Kay nodded again. Closed her eyes.
Jordan said, “You’re in the doorway.”
“Yes.”
“Is it a big bedroom?”
“Master suite. King-size bed.”
“Where’s the bed?”
“On the wall, opposite the door.”
“What else is in the room?”
“Bookshelves to the right. Left of the door, a double-wide dresser with a TV on top. Facing the bed, and beyond that, bathroom door. Wall on the left has a narrower bookcase and a big window onto the backyard.”