been natural, but murder.
Cold-blooded murder as far as they could tell right now, carefully planned and executed.
Cash said, “Did your husband say anything special before he left? Maybe that he was meeting someone today?”
“While jogging?” Gunhild sounded incredulous. She still stood with her back turned on them, the muscles of her hand working as she clutched the tool like a lifeline.
“No, in general,” Cash said. “Was today a special day somehow?”
Gunhild took a deep breath. “You could say that, Sheriff. It was our anniversary. I had … baked a cake the other day.” Her voice trembled. “Like I did when we first met. He fell in love with me for my Scandinavian cooking, you know. I had planned to present the cake to him when he got home. I …”
Vicky glanced at Cash. He glanced at her in return, helplessness in his features. How dreadful it was to hear of your husband’s death on the very day you had planned celebrating togetherness and love.
Vicky said, “We’re very sorry that it happened today of all days.”
Gunhild turned to them. Her face was mottled. “You said he … had an accident? Is he … Can I still see him?”
Cash winced. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. He took a fall down the cliffs and …”
Gunhild stared at him. “His body, it’s … disfigured?”
Cash tried to soothe her. “Better not think of that.”
“Not think of that? He’s my husband. He’s suddenly dead. And you’re telling me I can’t even see him again.”
Cash glanced at Vicky again. She bet this was the hysteria he had been afraid of. But to Vicky’s mind Gunhild was still quite calm and only expressing logical thoughts.
“I think,” she said softly, “that it would be best to ask the advice of your doctor as to whether you should see him again or not. I have no idea what might be worse. Seeing him and remembering that sight or not ever knowing what you might have seen.”
Gunhild’s eyes locked on her. “You understand. I need to know. I would go crazy not knowing. I would picture it in my mind ten times worse than it really is.”
“You don’t know how it really is,” Cash said tightly.
Vicky took a step to Gunhild. “You must make the right decision for you. But please consider it carefully. You’ll never have a chance to undo it again.”
Gunhild nodded. She seemed to steady herself now that her mind was turning to practical matters. She said low, as if talking to herself more than to them, “So many things have to be arranged for. I’ll have to call Archibald’s daughter. And his mother. She’s still alive, you know. She’ll be so upset. Then I have to think about funeral arrangements. I don’t think he ever wrote down what he wanted. He didn’t see the need. He thought he’d live to be a hundred. And why not? He was fit, healthy.”
Gunhild pushed a hand to her face. “I’ll have to make so many decisions. And I’m not used to that. He used to decide it all around here.”
She gestured around her with both hands. “It’ll be so … silent without him.”
She turned her back on them again and stood, taking deep breaths.
Vicky looked at Cash. Cash wasn’t moving to say or do anything. She bet he just wished he could disappear from the garden and find himself at the police station again.
Vicky said, “There’s one more thing you should know, Gunhild.”
Gunhild stood and waited. “Yes?” The tightness in her shoulders betrayed she was bracing herself for another blow.
Vicky felt terrible having to be the one to say it, out loud. “There’s no exact cause of death determined yet, but the doctor who came to see the body did report that … there were two bullets in his chest.”
Gunhild gasped. “What? Are you saying that …” She turned and now her face was red with anger. “Nobody would have dared. Take a life. Take his life. He still had so many plans.”
Cash raised a hand to ward off further remarks. “We’ll look into it and get back to you with more details. Please keep us informed about what you’re doing and …”
He stepped back. “As you can understand, I have to oversee the investigation. I’ll leave Vicky here with you to talk some more. Good morning.”
Vicky wanted to protest that this was hardly fair, but Cash was on his way down the creaking steps already and through the still garden back to his car.
She’d have to get even with him for this somehow.
But right now the woman in front of her needed her.
Vicky said, “Perhaps it’s a good idea to go inside and have some tea?” She knew that in case of a big shock she herself would want to have something to do, to fuss with.
Gunhild didn’t seem to hear her. She stared into the garden with a forlorn expression. The tool dropped from her fingers to the floorboards in a dull clink.
Vicky went to her and caught her arm. “Are you all right? Do you want to sit down? Yes, you’d better sit down now. Come along.”
She ushered the woman to a wooden bench nearby and made her sit on it. She wished she had water to offer her or some other drink to steady her nerves.
Gunhild focused on her. “Who are you anyway? I remember you were here once. To ask about a sculpture.”
A vague smile flashed across her features. “My sculptures helped me deal with a lot of bad things in my life. They’ll have to help me deal again.”
Vicky nodded. “I was here with Marge Fisher about a donation for the lighthouse auction. You were going to make a sea-related something or other.”
Gunhild nodded. “It’s done. It’s in the shed.” She nodded in the direction of the dark wooden building with the bright roses in front of it. “I could show it to you.”
Vicky said, “In a few minutes when we’ve both calmed down, all right?”
Gunhild leaned her elbows on her knees and closed her eyes. “I don’t remember your name. You have to forgive me. I met so many new people when we came to stay here for the summer. I don’t remember all the names.”
“Vicky Simmons. I run a store in town.”
“Oh, yes, British home decoration and books and cookies.” Again there was that half smile. “My mother-in-law loves fudge. I wanted to get fudge for her at your store. She’s coming over, you see. This weekend.”
Her face tightened. “I don’t know how I can ever tell her. Her only son.”
Vicky swallowed. “It’ll be hard on both of you. You can support each other.”
Gunhild made a sound between a strangled sob and a huff. “My mother-in-law …” She fell silent and sat with her eyes closed, looking so alone that Vicky’s heart ached for her.
“You …” She looked for tactful words. “You married Archibald at a later moment?”
“Yes, I’m his second wife. We met in an art gallery where my work was on display. Archibald wanted to buy something and he asked for my advice what to get. I tried to sell him the most expensive piece, of course, as I knew he had money and I needed to live off something. He was so charming about it. He said he’d take it if I agreed to dinner with him. I did. I was flattered that he wanted to talk to me at all. I was unknown then.”
Vicky studied the woman’s beautiful face. She had that kind of quiet but haunting beauty of the classic movie stars. Her features were strong and smooth, suggesting she had a mind of her own. Goodridge had probably found it fascinating that she was an