The Bitter Season (Kovac and Liska, #5)(30)

“Tarts.”

“Tarts.”

“What neighbor said that?”

“Donald Nilsen.”

Barbie Duffy rolled her eyes. “Dirty old man. Maybe he should have spent less time looking in our windows and more time minding his own damn business.”

“Do you mean that literally?” Seley asked. “He was looking in your windows?”

“He would complain to Ted about the way the girls dressed. Their shorts were too short. Their skirts were too short. Their tops were too short. He was worried they would tempt his perfect son. It was like living next door to the Taliban. Ted told him to stop staring at the crotches of teenage girls or someone might get the wrong idea and call the cops on him.”

“How did Nilsen react to that?”

“He blew a gasket, but he didn’t complain again after that.”

“What was the son like?”

“He was quiet. He minded his own business—unlike his father. He mowed our lawn in the summer and shoveled the sidewalk in the winter. He never said anything more than ‘yes, ma’am,’ ‘no, ma’am,’ and ‘thank you, ma’am.’ I found him a little odd, but why wouldn’t he be, with those parents?”

“Was he ‘distracted’ by the girls?”

“Not that I ever noticed. He mostly looked at the ground.”

“Do you know how he died?”

“He died? I had no idea. It must have been after we moved away. I remember him giving his condolences at the funeral.”

“There must have been a thousand people at that funeral,” Nikki remarked.

“Yes, there were. But I remember because his father wasn’t there. The son and the mother came.”

“What about Nilsen’s wife?” Nikki asked. “Did you know her?”

“Not really. I had a job and five kids. I didn’t have time for coffee with the housewife next door. I hardly ever saw her. What difference does it make, anyway?” she asked, glancing at her watch again. “Do you think Susie Homemaker killed Ted?”

“Just getting a feel for the neighborhood,” Nikki said. “So you didn’t keep in touch with her after she left the husband?”

“I didn’t even know that she left the husband,” she said, standing up. “Good for her. And speaking of leaving, I have to go. I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll have more questions,” Nikki said, following her to the front door.

“I’m sure you will,” she said, opening the door to show them out. “But don’t be surprised if I’m difficult to contact. I’ve moved on with my life. It’s time the police department does, too. What’s done is done.”


*



“THAT’S AN INTERESTING ATTITUDE SHE HAS,” Nikki said as they got back in the car. “There’s no statute of limitations on murder. Apparently the same can’t be said for Barbie Duffy’s feelings for the former love of her life.”

“It’s been a quarter of a century,” Seley pointed out. “That’s probably longer than she and her husband even knew each other. I agree, it doesn’t make her seem like the most compassionate person, but she’s had to live through all of it. We haven’t.”

And that was the whole point of their being there, Nikki thought as she drove them back into the city. They had yet to see the whole picture of Ted Duffy’s life and death. She only hoped they could bring it into focus. His death had to mean something to someone—even if that someone wasn’t the person who should have cared the most.


*



HOMICIDE WAS CROWDED WHEN THEY GOT BACK. The shift had changed, but no one seemed to have left. Kovac’s double murder, Nikki thought, straining to pick up bits of conversation as she passed through on her way to the Cold Case unit’s borrowed office space.

A professor from the U and his wife, murdered in their own home. The brass would be clamoring for the case to be closed ASAP, all the while getting as much air time and management mileage out of it as possible. She could see Mascherino in her office with Deputy Chief Kasselmann, deep in conversation. The sense of energy and urgency that came with a high-profile case was palpable in the room.

Tippen was on the phone at his desk, scribbling notes. He glanced up as she passed, held the phone to his shoulder, and said, “You’re missing a big one, Tinks!”

“I have my own big one, thanks.”

“I know that. But I’m talking about a case.”

She flipped him the finger and kept going, her mood darkening even as he laughed in her wake. She hated feeling left out of a job she had left by choice. But she had her own job to do.

She had stewed on Barbie Duffy’s attitude all the way back from Apple Valley. The fact that Grider had fouled the waters for her before she had a chance to establish a rapport with Ted Duffy’s widow was burning like an ulcer in her gut. Bad enough to start from zero with a case as cold as this one. He had made sure she was starting in a hole.

And there he was, ten feet in front of her, stuffing a sandwich in his fat mouth as he stood shooting the shit with one of the Homicide guys, no doubt drawn into the room by the same energy they all felt when a big case was getting off the ground.

Nikki saw red.

“Grider!” she snapped, walking up on him. “What the f*ck do you think you’re doing?”