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Denise smiled sardonically. “I need you to prove he was murdered, Detective. If he did take his own life, I get no life insurance and I need that. Kent didn’t make a lot of money, but I make even less because I can’t work full time. And now I’m going to have to get my own health insurance because we got ours through Shady Oaks.”
Ah. That made sense. “Did Mr. Crawford have a will?”
“Yes. The house and bank accounts go to the surviving spouse.” She swallowed hard. “He always thought it would be him. That I’d die first. Said so on multiple occasions.”
Kit really hated this guy. “I have only a few more questions, Mrs. Crawford. His car. It’s a very expensive model. How did he afford it?”
She shrugged. “He said one of his army buddies gave it to him.”
Kit’s eyes widened. “They gave him a brand-new BMW 6-Series sedan? That’s a nice gift.”
“I thought so, too. When I pressed Kent, he got angry, so I backed off. The car was his. My car was ours,” she added dryly. “Because he figured he could sell it when I met my maker. It’s a ten-year-old Toyota Sienna minivan. They ‘hold their value for resale.’ ” She used air quotes. “Kent was a real piece of work.”
“Got it.” Kit had to bite her tongue to keep from agreeing with the woman, reviewing her notes instead. Oh, right. Left- or right-handed shooter? “Did you practice shooting with your husband?”
“Yes. He taught me how to shoot, but that was years ago.”
“Do you happen to know which hand he used to shoot?”
Denise winced again. “His right. Why?”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. He used to shoot with both hands and was very proud of that fact, but he broke a finger on his left hand a few years ago and it didn’t heal right. Since then, he could only shoot right-handed. He made a big deal about it.”
Kit nodded. “Thank you. Can I look at his belongings?”
“Help yourself, Detective. If you don’t mind, I’m going to stay down here. I’m too tired to climb the stairs.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kit said gently, because Denise did look exhausted. “Did he have a home office?”
“No. He kept all his work at work.”
“Did he do work from his personal laptop that you’d bought for him?”
“I don’t know. He usually checked his stocks and such. One of his friends is a financial advisor and he gave Kent stock tips. Kent said he gave his friend better stock tips, but that was Kent.”
“I heard he played football in college.”
Denise rolled her eyes. “Everybody that ever met him—even on a bus—knew that he played football in college. Glory days, you know.”
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate you taking the time to talk with me. I’m going to take a quick look around upstairs right now and I’ll probably bring my partner back with me tomorrow. Two sets of eyes.”
“I’m going to sit in my easy chair. I might fall asleep, so if I do, please lock up before you go.”
Kit followed her into the living room, just in case she became unsteady and started to fall. But Denise made it to what looked to be a very comfortable chair, sighing wearily as she sank into it.
Kit hurried up the stairs, taking in the pictures on the walls. Football, football, football. Lots of pics of Kent in his college ball uniform. A few of him in his army uniform. In one, he stood shoulder to shoulder with three other men. These would be his friends. Dave, Pete, and Garrett.
She opened the folder and rifled through the contents. Denise had applied sticky-note-style tabs, marking the documents.
“Bank statements,” she murmured. “Pay stubs. Phone records.”
Ah, here it is. Army Buddies. Full names and addresses. One lived in Portland, one in Seattle, and one in LA. Denise had included a copy of the photo on the wall, identifying each man. She’d even made a list of every trip the four had taken, with dates and locations. They were in Palm Springs this weekend at the Silver Palm Resort.
Kit searched the Crawfords’ bedroom but found nothing of interest. Nothing hidden under the socks, nor in the pockets of the coats and trousers hanging neatly in the closet. There was a gun safe, which was locked, but no fireproof safe for documents.
It was surprisingly sterile for a couple who’d been married for as long as the Crawfords had been. Kit found no collections, no jar of pocket change, no loose cuff links. None of the things she usually found lying around when someone died unexpectedly.
