shock from this morning’s grisly discovery. The woman’s face was leached of colour, her eyes bloodshot and puffy, and she kept looking around the black-and-green-speckled laminate counters and sand-coloured linoleum floor, blinking rapidly, as though she had misplaced or lost something of importance.
‘I explained what happened to the police,’ Kelly said, fetching mugs from a cabinet. ‘On the second day, when David didn’t report to work, I –’
‘Excuse me for interrupting, Mrs Kelly –’
‘Miss, actually. I’ve never been married. Please, call me Sally.’
‘I’m trying to get a feel for the family. What they were like.’
‘They were good and decent people.’
‘Mr Downes was a lawyer?’
Kelly nodded. ‘Real estate law,’ she said. ‘I worked for him … must be eight years now. He hired me as his secretary. Then he had to let his bookkeeper go, when the housing bubble here burst, and I took over those duties too.’
Kelly placed teabags into a pair of heavy white mugs that sat on the narrow laminate counter and set some water to boil in a saucepan on the stove. She had developed the same unresponsive glare Darby had seen over and over again in the family and friends of murder victims – a thousand-yard stare that begged for someone to release them from purgatory and to return them to a normal life.
‘They made –’ Her voice caught. Kelly swallowed and cleared her throat. ‘They made me identify the bodies.’
‘Mr and Mrs Downes didn’t have any family in the area?’
Kelly shook her head. She wore jeans and slippers and an oversized grey wool sweater that came down almost to her knees. ‘David was an only child,’ she said. ‘Linda too. They met in high school, here in Red Hill, did you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t. I’m sorry for your loss.’
The woman’s eyes were bright. ‘Such horrible things shouldn’t happen to good and decent people.’
Darby could hear the faint tick of a clock coming from somewhere down the hall. She waited a decent interval before gently moving forward.
‘What can you tell me about their daughter? What was Samantha like?’
‘Sammy was … solid. A solid person. Smart. Had her act together, never gave her parents a lick of grief – and what a hard worker! You don’t see that much any more. These younger generations, they don’t want to put in the time and effort. The sacrifice. They just want to click a computer mouse or tap some button on their phone and have everything given to them.’
‘Did you know her well?’
Kelly nodded. ‘He made me a part of his family, David,’ she said. ‘I had dinner with them just last week.’
‘When?’
‘Sunday. Linda made pot roast. She was a very good cook. Took it up after she retired. She was a nursery-school teacher.’
‘Was Samantha there? At dinner?’
Kelly nodded as the kettle whistled.
‘How did she seem to you?’
‘The way she always did, sunny and happy.’ Kelly poured the boiling water into the mugs. ‘Well, maybe a little the worse for wear. She was putting herself through graduate school. University of Denver. Business, I think. Or economics, one of those.’
‘Do you know where she worked?’
‘Wagon Wheel Saloon. It’s a bar. Downtown.’ Kelly picked up the mugs and carried them to the table, walking stiffly. Painfully. She caught the question in Darby’s eyes.
‘Fibromyalgia,’ Kelly said. ‘It’s always worse in the winter, especially when the temperature keeps jumping up and down.’ She placed the mugs on the table and then eased herself into the opposite seat. ‘One day it’s freezing cold, and then the next day it’s in the sixties, and all it makes me want to do is lie in bed.’
‘Did Mr Downes ever mention anything to you about his daughter having an encounter with a strange man? Maybe someone who was watching or following her?’
‘The police asked me those same questions. I told them no. If something like that had happened to
‘I explained what happened to the police,’ Kelly said, fetching mugs from a cabinet. ‘On the second day, when David didn’t report to work, I –’
‘Excuse me for interrupting, Mrs Kelly –’
‘Miss, actually. I’ve never been married. Please, call me Sally.’
‘I’m trying to get a feel for the family. What they were like.’
‘They were good and decent people.’
‘Mr Downes was a lawyer?’
Kelly nodded. ‘Real estate law,’ she said. ‘I worked for him … must be eight years now. He hired me as his secretary. Then he had to let his bookkeeper go, when the housing bubble here burst, and I took over those duties too.’
Kelly placed teabags into a pair of heavy white mugs that sat on the narrow laminate counter and set some water to boil in a saucepan on the stove. She had developed the same unresponsive glare Darby had seen over and over again in the family and friends of murder victims – a thousand-yard stare that begged for someone to release them from purgatory and to return them to a normal life.
‘They made –’ Her voice caught. Kelly swallowed and cleared her throat. ‘They made me identify the bodies.’
‘Mr and Mrs Downes didn’t have any family in the area?’
Kelly shook her head. She wore jeans and slippers and an oversized grey wool sweater that came down almost to her knees. ‘David was an only child,’ she said. ‘Linda too. They met in high school, here in Red Hill, did you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t. I’m sorry for your loss.’
The woman’s eyes were bright. ‘Such horrible things shouldn’t happen to good and decent people.’
Darby could hear the faint tick of a clock coming from somewhere down the hall. She waited a decent interval before gently moving forward.
‘What can you tell me about their daughter? What was Samantha like?’
‘Sammy was … solid. A solid person. Smart. Had her act together, never gave her parents a lick of grief – and what a hard worker! You don’t see that much any more. These younger generations, they don’t want to put in the time and effort. The sacrifice. They just want to click a computer mouse or tap some button on their phone and have everything given to them.’
‘Did you know her well?’
Kelly nodded. ‘He made me a part of his family, David,’ she said. ‘I had dinner with them just last week.’
‘When?’
‘Sunday. Linda made pot roast. She was a very good cook. Took it up after she retired. She was a nursery-school teacher.’
‘Was Samantha there? At dinner?’
Kelly nodded as the kettle whistled.
‘How did she seem to you?’
‘The way she always did, sunny and happy.’ Kelly poured the boiling water into the mugs. ‘Well, maybe a little the worse for wear. She was putting herself through graduate school. University of Denver. Business, I think. Or economics, one of those.’
‘Do you know where she worked?’
‘Wagon Wheel Saloon. It’s a bar. Downtown.’ Kelly picked up the mugs and carried them to the table, walking stiffly. Painfully. She caught the question in Darby’s eyes.
‘Fibromyalgia,’ Kelly said. ‘It’s always worse in the winter, especially when the temperature keeps jumping up and down.’ She placed the mugs on the table and then eased herself into the opposite seat. ‘One day it’s freezing cold, and then the next day it’s in the sixties, and all it makes me want to do is lie in bed.’
‘Did Mr Downes ever mention anything to you about his daughter having an encounter with a strange man? Maybe someone who was watching or following her?’
‘The police asked me those same questions. I told them no. If something like that had happened to
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