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Donna Frederickson is not the type I’d expect to come across in a small town like Horace. She reeks of big city money, from the work she’s had done on her face, her flawless platinum blonde hair, and the clear designer labels she wears.
Her husband is the same, although it’s always subtler for men. Fred Frederickson is as close to Prince Humperdinck fromThe Princess Brideas I’ve seen in life, the smarmy, pouting lips, the swoops of black hair. No, I’m not at all jealous that there’s not even a bit of salt distributed through his curls, despite my confidence he’s older than me, not at all.
“This is just the last thing we needed,” Fred says with a sigh as Donna settles in beside him on the settee across from the armchair I’m sitting in.
“I understand. It’s not really a pleasant situation,” I reply. I’m trying to be the best good cop I can be in case there are any cracks in the façade I can see through. Some of the bones might have belonged to Constance’s deer skeleton, but that doesn’t mean this is some innocent hijinks.
Fred tosses his dark hair out of his eyes. “I hope you don’t think we had anything to do with this.”
“Of course we didn’t,” Donna says, gently taking her husband’s wrist.
I try to settle into the chair a bit, but its straight back makes it difficult to relax. “I want to respect your time, of course, but I have to do my due diligence.”
“Oh, yes, of course, we’re more than happy to cooperate,” Fred says, holding up a hand in surrender.
If Fred Frederickson is the shrewd businessman Constance says he is, I’m sure this is a maneuver. A way for him to seem relatable and nonthreatening. I’ll remain on guard. “How long have you been living here in Horace?”
“Well, we bought the house…” Fred trails off then looks to his wife.
“Three years ago.”
“Three years ago,” he repeats. “But we’ve been living in it for about…” He looks to his wife again.
Donna smiles sweetly. “A year and a half.”
“A year and a half.”
Did that… really just happen?
“What drew you to Horace?” I ask.
Fred looks to Donna. Third time’s the charm.
She absolutely glows. “We went on a trip here once when I was a girl and I’ve just never gotten it out of my mind. Horace, Illinois. I mean, it’s just darling, you know? Quaint and quiet and so unlike the city.”
“Let’s just say, Donna felt called,” Fred follows up. “You married, Sheriff?”
“Afraid I’m not that lucky,” I say with a limp smile.
Donna gasps. “That’s a crime. You’re a catch, Sheriff.”
Fred smiles through the pain. “Well, one day, when you are, you know you’ll move heaven and earth to make your wife happy. And if Horace is what Donna wants…”
She giggles gleefully. “It’s what Donna gets.”
You would never know these people just had human remains discovered on their property. If anything, it makes me suspect they had something to do with it less. They’re absolutely oblivious. “And for all intents and purposes, nothing suspicious has ever happened on the estate?”
“No, not at all,” Fred says, then hesitates. “Well, I mean, weird things happen all the time but not criminally suspicious type things.”
I frown. “Weird things?”
Donna waves her hand. “He’s being silly. Just old house type things.” Her eyes twirl around the room. “I mean, there’s a lot of creaking. A lot of strange sounds.”
I look around the living room. It’s a little dark, but it’s beautiful. The green wallpapered walls, bookshelves filled with all sorts of literature, the oxblood Persian rug under my feet. It all looks ripped out of the past. Even the modern amenities like the television and the light fixtures don’t take away from how truly special this house seems.
“It’s a little old-fashioned for our tastes,” Donna says. “Which we knew. We just didn’t…” She stops and smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful.”
I shake my head. “Ma’am, this is an investigation, you needn’t worry about that.”
