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“Not at all, I’m Martha,” a bustling plump woman replied, as she stood at the kitchen counter, efficiently making three sandwiches while Remy sat on a stool and watched. “We thought a picnic later today might get us out of this place for a while,” she explained her plans. “This is a miserable, miserable affair. The shock. Well, you can never tell, you live with people for a while and not realize the things they will do.” The industrious Martha was a voluptuous woman with a heavy chest and a broad bottom, which she moved with surprisingly sensuous grace.
Remy was younger than Martha, with a pretty face and a trim body. Her feet dangled over the edge of the stool, not reaching the floor. Her round face, dimples and curly brown hair made her look heavier than she really was, and a little childish. Although at the moment, her eyes glowered in a particularly womanly way. As she leaned against the counter, she ran a hand through her mop of hair, and found a lock to twist around her finger. “It was horrible,” Remy said, biting her lip like a little child. “I hate blood.” She shuddered, raising her shoulders, frightened as if she’d just seen a ghost. Tears welled in her already reddened eyes.
“Please understand, this is quite stressful for us all,” Martha explained. “Felicia was a very prominent woman, highly thought of. Her death is quite a shock, particularly under the circumstances. We’ve all been thoroughly wounded by this messy business.” She shook her head and sighed deeply.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Leslie agreed thoughtfully.
“And Betsy, well that almost seemed impossible to believe, poor woman must have had some mental problem I’d say,” Martha went on.
“Did you hear anything suspicious in the house that night?” Leslie asked.
“Well let’s see,” Martha thought back. “Remy and I were in bed together. We are lovers you understand. We went to bed at the normal hour, I guess it was nearly eleven. We were playing music. We like to fall asleep with gently soothing melodies. It’s very restorative. I’m afraid that made it difficult to hear anything beyond our own room.” She had a habit of smiling quickly between sentences as if to punctuate them.
“I see,” Robin replied. “And Zelda? You can account for her whereabouts?”
“We said goodnight to her before we closed the door. She seemed quite tired. I think she uses drugs to sleep. But then, at the time of the murder, we were asleep with the music still on,” she reminded them.
“Zelda just told us that Felicia had her eyes on you Martha. That she was changing her affections?” Robin said, go
ing to the heart of the matter to witness the woman’s reaction. The question didn’t faze the woman, as she methodically spread mayonnaise on six slices of brown bread. She smiled again, that brief reflex. “Felicia sets her sights on a new woman all the time. We’d had a few brief moments at one point, but I’m in love with Remy. Felicia knew that and so did Betsy. And so did Remy know that,” she hastened to add, smiling affectionately at her lover across the counter. Remy shrugged, and nervously grabbed a piece of cheese, which immediately went to her mouth.
“How did you come to be living her?” Leslie asked.
“We’ve lived with Felicia for three years, off and on at first. Before Betsy came. Felicia brought her home one night from some party, and she stayed ever since. Until now of course. Let me tell you, that girl came here with Felicia showing her off as some little submissive, you know with collar and all, but she certainly hasn’t acted very submissive lately.”
“How’s that?” Robin asked.
“Oh, I’m not into this much, all the S&M stuff that Felicia and these other women get so excited about. But Betsy certainly had a mind of her own. Oh, she deferred to Felicia at first, but then she got wise, I suppose. Realized that the woman was a little crazy.” Martha lowered her voice to a hush, as if the dead woman might hear her from her grave. “Betsy acted like Felicia’s odd habits didn’t bother her, but I’m not so sure. How can you love someone and have your eyes on so many other women all the time? It’s not really natural now, is it?”
“You think that Betsy killed Felicia?” Robin asked.
“That very well may be; that girl’s got a nasty dark side to be sure. She and Felicia were having some very fiery confrontations recently, and every one knew that. Betsy seemed determined to change the woman. Everyone should know that a woman like Felicia will never change, never. Crazy and wild from the word go, she went to her death that way. I don’t imagine there’s a soul who knew Felicia who believed her demise would be any but unusual. I can’t tell you that Betsy killed her, but I’d say she’s a pretty good bet. But then, you might also want to talk to Jane Hugh,” she went on before anyone else could speak. “She had one ass kicker of a fight with Felicia a few days ago. And the two of them were constantly bitching; neither one of them liked the other and they made no bones about it. For the life of me, I don’t know why Felicia put up with the woman. She’s so, so …” she couldn’t find the right word.
“So, tell me, where are you from, originally?” Leslie turned the monologue back to an interview.
“Maine, but I’ve lived in the area for years. I’m the librarian at the university. You can check that out.”
“And Remy?” Robin turned to the quiet woman on the stool. She had popped a cherry tomato in her mouth.
“She’s from Maine, too,” Martha answered for her. “Has been working in the lab at the university.”
Remy smiled and cocked her head as if to confirm what Martha said. She still looked like she might cry any minute.
“By the way,” Leslie asked, “who gets this estate with Felicia gone?”
Martha’s brows knit. “Why, I don’t know,” she said. “Felicia had all kinds of crazy business deals, like everything else. I suppose Betsy stands to inherit some of this, but I’m sure there are other hands waiting to open.”
“What will the two of you do?” Robin said.
“I’m not sure,” Martha replied. “But Felicia always assured me that we’d have a home here. I suppose we’ll have to wait until the will is read and we know for sure who owns this place. Then, well, we all get on with our lives eventually, won’t we?”
Robin nodded.
“Thank you both for your help. We may need to ask a few more questions at another time. I hope that it won’t pose any problem, but I think this should be good for now,” Leslie said.
“We’re happy to help,” Martha smiled. “Having nothing to hide, we don’t have anything to worry about. If you want to talk to Jane Hugh, I think she’s at her cottage. I haven’t seen that old jalopy she drives leave today.”
“I don’t believe her,” Robin said, as the two slipped out the back door and down the stairs.
