Page 17 of Haunted By Sin

“I have Ava’s statement from that night,” Sylvie replied softly as she waited for Duncan to join her at the counter. She was hoping that he would change his mind, but he seemed more comfortable with the distance between them. “Since the FBI has taken on the investigation, my colleagues and I thought it best to speak with the victims’ family members and friends. We believe it’s important to know Mary Jane Reynolds…all of them.”

Sylvie paused when Duncan dropped his gaze. He swallowed a few times, indicating that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

“Your Mary Jane, Duncan.” Sylvie needed him to understand how vital it was for him to share the details of their lives. “Tell me about your wife.”

“Her laughter was contagious,” Duncan replied with a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He stared into his mug as if he could visualize his memories in the dark beverage. “Mary was kind, funny, and…loved cheese.”

Duncan laughed before shaking his head.

“I know that isn’t what you want to know, but Mary loved cheese. She passed that on to our daughter, too. Ava will eat anything and everything, as long as I melt cheese over it.” Duncan shrugged in defeat, albeit good-naturedly. He lifted his mug to his lips and took a long sip. “You want to know if Mary had any enemies, and the answer is no. Everyone loved her, with the exception of Mrs. Johnston across the street. That woman doesn’t like any of her neighbors.”

There were two entrances within sight from the majority of the main level—the front entrance, which Sylvie had walked through after parking the car near the curb out front, and the back door located in the kitchen. There had been no signs of forced entry, and none of the doorbell cameras in the neighborhood had caught anything suspicious that evening. The local police believed that Mary Jane had invited her murderer into the house, but that scenario couldn’t have taken place. There had been no prints left behind to indicate a visitor, either. The odd thing Sylvie had noted in the detective’s files was that the surfaces in the house hadn’t been wiped down.

“What about someone new?” Sylvie inquired as she turned the warm mug in her hand. “Did either of you meet someone new in the weeks leading up to that night? I know that Mary was a high school teacher. Did she mention someone new at school?”

Sylvie had noticed right away that Duncan didn’t refer to his wife as Mary Jane. He called her Mary, and Sylvie would respect the manner in which he would like to remember his wife.

“There were a couple of new substitute teachers who started filling in for the full-time teachers back in January. There’s usually an influx when a new semester starts.” Duncan lifted one corner of his lips in thought before he continued with more specifics. “A young guy in his twenties, and a woman in her sixties. I remember that conversation vividly, because Mary was saying the older woman had the patience of a saint.”

Sylvie made a mental note to request background checks on both colleagues. After a few more questions without any new details that weren’t in the reports, Sylvie switched gears.

“Would you please walk me through that day?” Sylvie maintained a delicate tone, knowing how difficult doing so would be for Duncan.

“It started out as any other morning.” Duncan set his mug on the counter before crossing his arms over his chest. “Our alarm went off around a quarter after six. Mary jumped in the shower while I went to make breakfast for Ava. I swear that girl has an internal clock. She was already dressed by the time I walked past her bedroom, but she couldn’t find her favorite pair of socks.”

“Let me guess,” Sylvie said with a soft smile to keep Duncan somewhat in the present. It wouldn’t do to completely lose him in the past. “Ava’s socks were in the dirty laundry.”

“They were,” Duncan replied with a tender smile. “I ended up tossing them in the dryer with a dryer sheet while Ava ate her favorite cereal. By the time I had returned to the bathroom to brush my teeth, Mary was already out of the shower and getting dressed. There was nothing unusual about our morning routine.”

“What time did the three of you leave the house?”

“Seven-thirty,” Duncan responded at the same time that his phone chimed an incoming text. He didn’t hesitate to pick his cell up off the counter. Sylvie assumed that his daughter wasn’t the one reaching out to him, because he set his phone down without responding to the message. “I kissed both of them goodbye. Ava hopped into her booster seat and fastened her seatbelt while Mary settled in behind the steering wheel. We both park in the garage, so I waited until she pulled out before getting into my car.”

Sylvie had caught Duncan’s slip of speaking about his wife in the present tense, but that wasn’t unusual during interviews like this one.

“When you pulled out of the driveway, did you notice any unusual vehicles parked on the street?”

“Not that I can recall.” Duncan had crossed his arms once again, but he lifted his right hand to rub his thumb across his chin. Typically, such a gesture indicated the individual wasn’t being truthful, but Sylvie had recognized early on that it was his way of soothing himself. “I always make sure the garage door closes all the way, so I was focused on that while letting the car idle in the driveway. By the time that I had pulled onto the street, Mary had already left the neighborhood.”

“You work at a doctor’s office, correct? An RN?” Sylvie asked, already knowing the answer to her question. Her inquiry was merely to keep the memories fresh in Duncan’s mind. “Did you drive straight there? Stop off for coffee?”

“I didn’t stop anywhere that morning.” Duncan dropped his hand to rest on his other arm. His movement indicated that he was subconsciously aware nothing out of the ordinary happened the rest of the day. “Since Mary teaches at the high school, it’s easier for her to drop Ava off at the elementary school. I used to work twelve-hour shifts at the hospital, but not after Ava was born. I wanted something with fewer hours so that I could be home in the evening. The only day of the week that we have longer office hours is Thursday. Dr. Roberts sees patients until around six or so.”

Mary Two had been murdered on a Thursday, but according to the criminal report, the late office hours hadn’t been the reason that Duncan hadn’t been at home that evening.

“Did you speak with Mary at any point throughout the day?”

“Yes,” Duncan replied with a nod. “Mary always calls on her way home. She had picked up Ava, who had gotten an A on her spelling test, and they were stopping to pick up a pizza. Since I’m usually not home for dinner on Thursday nights, it became a habit to eat take-out food.”

“Nothing was said during the course of the phone conversation that caused you to think something was wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Duncan replied before glancing toward the back door of the kitchen when another roll of thunder materialized outside. “I know that Mary picked up the pizza, because I spoke to her on the phone again about five minutes after I left the clinic. She and Ava had already eaten, and they were about to play Candyland. I was maybe five minutes from home when I got a call from the alarm company. I’m second on the list, and the operator couldn’t get ahold of Dr. Roberts. The police were already responding to the call, so I had no choice but to turn around and drive back to work.”

“It’s my understanding that Dr. Roberts was driving to a restaurant to meet his wife, but he had forgotten to take his cell phone off silent,” Sylvie tacked on to confirm what was in Dr. Benjamin Roberts’ statement. “He arrived at his clinic around fifteen minutes after you, correct?”

“Yes. We have at least one break-in a year, if not two. It’s not uncommon. Unfortunately, there is always someone looking for a way to score drugs. We don’t keep narcotics on hand, though.”

“Was anything taken?”