Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Nobody did,” I said. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”
His jaw hardened, making him look even more like an old-time cowboy. “I was the sheriff, even back then. I should have known.”
“I don’t know how unless you’re clairvoyant. Give yourself a break,” I said gently. “Sandrine admitted they all hid the abuse and were good at it. Nobody blames you, Sheriff, and the boys don’t blame their mom. It’s over. They’re all healthy, happy, and hopefully moving on.” That is unless one of them was arrested and charged with murder. They all seemed to have decent motives—and frankly, I didn’t blame them.
I sat back, munching on the cookie. “What do you remember about Imogen’s husband?”
“Decent guy,” Franco said. “Was pretty worried when he couldn’t get ahold of his wife and insisted that Richard had kidnapped her, but too many people knew about the affair. More importantly, plenty of witnesses saw them willingly and happily leaving town together.”
I sipped on the coffee, which had tones of hazelnut sweetening the brew. “I saw him get interviewed earlier today. Seemed sad, even after all this time.”
“Yeah, he appeared concerned and lonely back in the day. But she did betray him by leaving with Richard.”
I finished the cookie. “You think he killed his wife?”
“No. I think he was too worried about her to have killed her,” Franco said thoughtfully, sipping his coffee. “Maybe he was trying to push me off the scent, but his concern seemed genuine. I think his heart was broken when she ditched him for brighter pastures.”
“But he is an architect, right? Don’t they make money?”
Richard stretched back in his chair. “Wilson wasn’t an architect yet. I’m pretty sure he attended school over in Timber City to get his AA and then headed down to U of I for the architectural degree after we stopped looking for Imogen. He was a young kid working in the mine when they married. His only other family was his brother.”
“Yeah. When they were interviewed, the brother acted all tough as Wayne’s lawyer.”
“Lawyer, huh? I remember him as a nice guy. Worked on cruise ships and then came home to help Wayne after he lost Imogen. They put up posters for the longest time.”
I finished the treat, ready for the sugar high. “How do you know so much?”
“I keep my ear to the ground. I believe Spencer attended law school while his brother was in college as well.”
“I appreciate your help,” I said. His knowledge was impressive.
He popped his knuckles. Have you been out snowmobiling lately?”
“No, I haven’t had time. You?”
He shook his head. “We’ve been too busy, too. It’s a pity. Things need to slow down.”
“You are not kidding,” I noted. “Besides Wayne Wilson and the Basanellis, what do you know about Lisa Robinson?”
“Ah, one of the many women Richard Basanelli had an affair with.”
My ears tingled at the new lead. “How many were there?”
He steepled his fingers. “There were quite a few through the years. I’ve been hunting them down, but most are spread across the country. I’ll get a list for you if you’d like.”
“I would.”
“But Lisa Robinson is still over in Timber City. She has an antique store outside town.”
So, Lisa’s affair with Richard was common knowledge? “She was dating Richard?”
“The affair wasn’t a huge secret, but even so, she denied it to me at first,” Franco said. “She finally broke down and admitted they’d been together for about five years. I think she was crushed that he ditched her for Imogen. But Imogen was in her early twenties, and Lisa was in her forties even then, so she thought it was more of an age thing.”
“Do you think she could have killed him?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. People in love do weird things. You know it’s either love, money, or revenge, right?”
“Sometimes, it’s self-defense,” I noted.
“Maybe. Hopefully, not in this case,” the sheriff said somberly. “I’d hate to see one of the Basanelli kids get caught up in this, and you need to know they’re all very protective of their mom.”
I sat back and drank my coffee, letting his words sink in.
A question had been bugging me since I’d learned the location of the bodies. “How would the killer have gotten the bodies into that room in the abandoned Marsh Mansion?”
“That’s a good question. Also, Richard’s truck was never found,” the sheriff noted.
“If they left the bar and drove over the pass, which is likely, how did somebody intercept them and kill them both?”
He glanced down at the closed file folder. “Yeah. I don’t think they would’ve just driven out to that mansion. Plus, it was the middle of summer. That’s when all the kids partied out there.”
True. That’s when we partied out there even years later. Somebody must have known about that room. “Why wasn’t that basement space around when I went to keggers there?”