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It was a somber walk to the Ables’ house next door. It was even worse knowing Mrs. Hargrove was probably staying with the man who killed her husband. Sometimes the people we were closest to, who we loved, were just disappointing.
The Able house was a red-brick Colonial with a circular drive in front. There was a three-car garage, and Lydia’s little red RAV4 was parked in front of one of the bays.
The rain wasn’t as heavy as it had been the day before—just a soaking mist—but the temperature was cooling and I found myself wishing I had warmer clothes to wear.
“I really don’t want to do this,” I said, as we stood in front of the door. “She’s already been through so much.”
“We’re just here to talk to him,” Jack said, ringing the doorbell. “That’s all we can do until we can get some proof.”
“Sheriff,” Ada Able said when she opened the door. “Dr. Graves. Come in, come in. Get out of the wet. Lydia is here if you’re looking for her.”
“We’d like to talk to her for a few minutes if she’s able,” Jack said. “We won’t take up much of her time.”
Ada was dressed in yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt, and she was wearing sneakers.
“Sorry, you caught me in the middle of my workout,” she said. “I haven’t really known what to do with myself this morning. Lydia wanted some alone time to start making arrangements and Derek and Joe went up to the school with the rest of the team. The principal called an impromptu memorial service. This has been so hard on the kids.”
I guessed we wouldn’t be talking to Joe Able after all.
“Let me run and get Lydia for you,” she said. “You can make yourselves comfortable in the front living room.”
“We’ll go by the school,” Jack said, reading my mind. “I don’t want to let too much time pass.” He was on his phone, rapidly sending a text. “I want the fingerprint techs back here now. Able has open access to the house. I don’t want him going back over in case there’s evidence we missed.”
“It would help if he had the helmet in his trunk or something,” I said.
“We’ll get there,” Jack said. “All we have right now is suspicion. I don’t have enough to get a search warrant for anyone.”
I heard the footsteps coming down the hall and Lydia peeked around the doorframe. “Jack…Jaye,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d see you back so soon. Is it… Are you finished with everything? When can I have Steve back?” Then she looked at me and my heart broke at the brave face she was trying to put on. But the grief in her eyes was plain for anyone to see.
“Come in and sit down,” Jack said, taking her gently by the arm. “We’ll talk about all of that. Do you want something to drink?”
I was surprised at the chuckle she gave as she shook her head. “I may never drink anything again. I’ve been plied with enough tea and warm whiskey to float a battleship.”
I knew the best way to handle Mrs. Hargrove was with facts and being straightforward. She wasn’t a wilting flower. She’d taught first graders for decades. That took a special amount of fortitude.
“I should have all the paperwork finished this afternoon,” I said.
She nodded briskly. “I talked with my daughter last night and we decided it was probably best to have him cremated. We’ll do a big memorial service at the church and put his picture up. That’s how people should remember him.”
“That will be a lovely tribute,” I told her. “You know I had to do an autopsy on him. It’s standard procedure.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know. Another reason for deciding on the cremation.”
“During the autopsy my assistant discovered fracturing along the back of Coach’s skull,” I told her.
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“It means that he didn’t take his life,” I said. “Someone struck him on the back of the head. And then they made it look like he killed himself.”
Lydia froze—even her breathing stopped for a few seconds. And then she exhaled loudly and pressed her fingers to her eyes.
“I knew it,” she said. “I knew he wouldn’t. I knew he’d never do such a thing. It didn’t make sense. We had such a nice morning together. We have such a nice life. A fulfilling life. We don’t have financial problems, our daughter is happily married with her own family. We’ve been talking about what we want to do for the rest of our lives. We’re not so old yet that we can’t still have fun. Maybe travel.”
“Was Coach planning on retiring?” Jack asked.
She sighed and shook her head. “That was our one point of contention. He was supposed to retire this year. I wanted him to. I was thinking how wonderful it would be not to have to go through another training camp and football season. I’ve been a coach’s wife for a lot of years. When our daughter was home it was like being a single mother. If we wanted to see him we’d pack up and go to practices and every football game.”
“He changed his mind?” Jack asked.
