Read Online An Anniversary to Die For by Valerie Wolzien - Free Book Online Page B

Susan murmured, thinking that perhaps Doug had waited until his daughter’s arrival to break down.
    “He’s not devastated! He’s crazy! He’s on the way to the police station right now. I’m afraid that he’s going to do something terrible!”
    “What?” The doorbell prevented Susan from asking any more questions. “I’ll get that. You stay here. It could be those awful reporters.”
    But it wasn’t a reporter, awful or otherwise. It was Erika Fortesque—Brett’s bride, Susan’s friend, and, Susan suddenly remembered, Signe Marks’s employer. So when Erika asked, “Is she here?” Susan knew exactly who Erika was asking about.
    “In the living room. But, Erika . . .” Susan reached out and grabbed her friend’s arm as she rushed by. “Signe says her father went down to the police station. She seems to be worried about what he’s going to do there.”
    “That’s why I’m here.” Erika looked down the hall. “Can she hear us?”
    “I don’t think so.” Susan lowered her voice. “What’s going on?”
    “Brett called me. And you have to promise you’ll never tell anyone that he did—don’t even mention it to Brett. He’d kill me if he knew I was talking to you.”
    “I won’t tell anyone anything. But what’s going on?”
    “About ten minutes ago Doug Marks walked into the police station and demanded to speak to Brett. When Brett appeared in the foyer, Doug announced that he had killed his wife.”
    “Who else was in the foyer?”
    “That’s just the problem. You know how the press have been swarming around looking for a story. Well, there were a half dozen reporters hanging around for a scoop—and they got one. There’s no way to keep this quiet now. That’s why Brett called me.”
    “I’m glad he called, but I don’t understand,” Susan admitted.
    “Brett says he doesn’t believe Doug killed Ashley. He didn’t go into the details.”
    “So?”
    “It’s Signe. Doug is afraid Signe is going to be arrested. That’s why he confessed!”
    “Why would he do that?”
    “He’s protecting me. My father thinks I killed my mother.” Susan and Erika spun around. Signe was leaning against the wall, sniffling.
    Erika rushed to her side. “Signe . . .” She wrapped her arms around the young woman, and her embrace inspired a fresh bout of tears.
    “Maybe you could get some us some tea or something?” Erika suggested, leading Signe back to the living room.
    “Of course.” Susan hurried toward the kitchen. She could use a shot of caffeine, too. And some food.
    Fifteen minutes later, when Susan returned to the living room, she was carrying a full tray and Signe seemed to have regained her composure. “I thought you might like something to eat,” she explained, pushing aside a pile of magazines with her foot and placing the tray on the large coffee table in front of the couch.
    Signe looked up at her and almost smiled. “That’s sweet of you.”
    Susan started to fuss with cups and saucers, cream, sugar, and artificial sweeteners. Once everyone had tea, she put out a wedge of Brie, a straw basket of water crackers, and a plate of Mint Milanos. Then she sat down and waited. Erika looked at Signe and raised her eyebrows. Signe took a deep breath. “Okay. If you think she can help.”
    “Signe has a big problem,” Erika began.
    Susan picked up her cup and sipped.
    “You see, my father has—or thinks he has—a good reason to believe I killed my mother,” Signe explained.
    “What?”
    “It’s sort of a long story. And there are some things I don’t want people to know about me . . . about my life.” Signe looked over at Erika.
    “Things have happened in Signe’s life that are a little . . . well, a little odd,” Erika said.
    “And you’re afraid not everyone will understand,” Susan suggested quietly.
    “Exactly.” Signe looked down into her cup as though expecting to find something fascinating there.
    “I think you’re going to have to tell Susan if you want