Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 38, No. 13, Mid-December 1993

“An investigator, a criminalist, whoever else they want to call in. And a coroner. A suicide is a reportable death. I’m sorry, Kaylie; it’s the way I have to handle it. Let’s go inside.”

She let him lead her back into the kitchen. He closed the door to the garage and felt her relax a little as it clicked shut. The kitchen was bright and gleaming, its white-tiled counters scrubbed, the white linoleum shining. The second hand on a round, plain-faced, battery-operated clock ticked away the time with small, jerking movements. On a dish drainer below it, two plain white dishes, a wineglass, and two sets of silverware were drying. On the kitchen table, a red vase held a wild assortment of summer blossoms, mostly roses.

“From your garden?” he asked.

“Yes, I brought them in today. Can I get you something cold to drink?”

“Thanks, that would be nice. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“You’re leaving?”

Looking at her troubled face, he felt another surge of anger toward the man in the garage. Hell, and he hadn’t done so well by her himself; left her waiting around with her husband’s corpse for several hours.

“Just for a minute. I’m just going to go out to the car; I’ll be right back. You’ll be all right?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

Hot as it was outside, it was actually cooler than in the house. The stench from the fire was all that kept him from asking Kaylie to talk to him on the porch. He called in on his radio; Emma, who was feeling guilty about not taking a better message from Kaylie, called him back and told him that she had tried to get the county people to cooperate, but it would be at least an hour before they could get anyone out to him. He gathered up his clipboard and forms.

On his way back to the house, he noticed the air conditioner in the bedroom window. He wondered why she wasn’t using it.

They sat at the table, drinking lemonade, both silent for a time. He decided he would get the business end of all this over and done with so he could spend the rest of the time he waited with her as a friend, not an officer of the law.

“I need to ask you a few questions, Kaylie.”

She nodded. “Go ahead. It’s all right, Jim.”

She was tense again, he could see. He didn’t want to make this any harder on her than it already was. Slowly, he told himself. Take it slow and easy. “Did your husband go to work out at the college today?”

“Yes. He was at the college most of the day. He has a full schedule for summer session. I’m not sure exactly when he got home — I was working in the garden this afternoon. But I heard the phone ring and came in to answer it; Joseph had already picked it up. That was about five o’clock, and it looked like he had just walked in not too long before that.”

“He was dressed like he is now?”

“Yes, that’s what he had on. I think Lillian called before he had a chance to change.”

“Lillian? His daughter?”

“Yes. He talked to her. I... I know there’s never any one reason for these things, but the call seemed to upset him.”

“Why?”

She looked away. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s my fault, not Lillian’s. I don’t think I ever made him very happy.”

“Kaylie.”

She looked back at him.

“Don’t do that to yourself. Please.”

She said nothing for a moment, then sighed. “You’re right, of course.”

“Tell me about the phone call.”

“Lillian called to say she was pregnant.”

“That upset him?”

“I know it sounds foolish, but you have to understand Joseph. He was so afraid of growing old. That’s why he had those affairs with his students.”

He looked at her in surprise.

“Yes, I knew about them. It’s a small town, Jim. I got ‘Dear Abby’ clippings in the mail whenever she ran a column on cheating husbands. Or some anonymous ‘friend’ would call and tell me that she had seen Joseph going into a motel outside of town.”

“Good Lord.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“It doesn’t. I don’t think he saw himself as being much older than his students. Working at the college — well, all I’m saying is, the news that he was going to be a grandfather really shook him up.”

“Did he say anything to you about it?”

“No, not much. But he didn’t change his clothes or go on with his usual routine. He started drinking wine, so I hurried and made dinner, trying to get him to put some food in his stomach. But he kept drinking throughout dinner. I should have known something was wrong then. But when I hinted that he should stop drinking, he became quite foul-tempered. I didn’t feel like putting up with it, not in this heat. So I went back out to the garden. I spent quite a while out there — maybe if I had stayed with him...”

“Kaylie, don’t. None of this is your fault.”

She was silent for a time, then said, “I’m sorry. You must have other questions.”

“Not many more. Had he been depressed or anxious lately, other than tonight?”

She reached toward the vase and absently touched a petal on a yellow rose. “I guess it doesn’t do any harm to talk about this now.”

He waited.