The Bishop's Wife (32 page)

“I don't know,” said Anna. She looked at me again.

If someone had threatened to take my boys away when they were that age, I might have been capable of murder. But then again, I might have been capable of murder on any day of the week. I didn't have grand notions about some people being born killers and others not.

“This is hard for her to take in, of course. We all thought of Tobias as a wonderful man,” I said as tears started to drip down Anna's face. I handed over the dress and the hammer and explained where I had found them.

“Damn,” said the detective as he opened the bag and held up each piece in the light streaming in from the front window.

“Can you still test the blood on the dress?” I asked. “Or whatever is on the hammer? Could it be the murder weapon?”

“It could be. The problem is the chain of custody. You took the hammer from the garden and to your garage, where it has been for months now. And as for the dress, we don't know anything about how the blood got to be on it. If you'd called us immediately, we might have been able to question Tobias about it while he was still alive.” Detective Dun was staring at me accusingly.

“But there was no body at the time,” I said. “You would have thought I was crazy, thinking a dying old man had killed his first wife some thirty-odd years ago.”

“I wouldn't have,” he said.

I rolled my eyes at him.

He let out a breath and seemed to sink into himself a bit. “I'll tell you a story about why I would have listened to you, all right?”

“Okay,” I said. I looked at Anna and she nodded.

“My sister was killed by her husband. Three years ago. She called me the day it happened, asking me for help. I thought I could wait to get to her. I thought she was exaggerating.”

I bristled at that.

“That evening, when I finally got to her house, she was dead. So I take women more seriously now. I listen, and try to step in when I can still save a life.”

He was breathing heavily, and it looked like he felt a little ill. I knew what that was like, giving away too much of yourself when you hadn't expected to and then waiting to see how it was received.

“I find myself telling that story more and more often now. I wish it wasn't applicable in so many of the cases I investigate, but it is.”

“Even here in Utah?” said Anna.

“Maybe especially here in Utah,” said Detective Dun.

It humanized the detective for me, seeing why he felt called to his profession. I'd never faced a tragedy like that in my own life—before this. “But it's not as if Tobias could be prosecuted
now,” I said. “I don't see what the point is in making a fuss over all of this.”

Detective Dun straightened his shoulders, back in his authority role, his head rising above the line of the chair. “The point is that people like you think they have seen enough detective shows on TV to do things on their own. But they shouldn't. If there were a possibility of a real case here, you would have jeopardized it to the point of making the D.A. wonder if he should even try to go to trial. Any defense lawyer would have a field day with the possibilities of what might have happened to the dress and hammer in the time it was in your garage.”

He was right, of course. After the fact, I could see that I had taken too much on myself. It stung to hear him treat me like a child who had stepped into the street without looking both ways.

“Promise me you won't ever do something like this again. Call the police if you find something. Immediately,” said Detective Dun. There was just a hint of pleading in his voice now, underneath the demand. He stood up, putting everything back in the bag. “I will tell you what I am most afraid of, Mrs. Torstensen,” he said, towering above her now, since she was still on the couch.

“What's that?” asked Anna, her hands shaking until she put them flat on her knees.

“If your husband was able to fool you and all your neighbors, and keep this body buried right under your noses, it makes us concerned that we may yet find other bodies,” said the detective. “It could be years before we figure out the extent of what he did.”

This struck me as both far-fetched and insensitive to Anna's emotional state. Surely the police didn't assume that there were serial killers behind every body found buried in a garden. Although, I suppose a body having gone undiscovered for so long was a sign of careful planning. Sociopathic serial killers are good at covering up their crimes, because their strategy is never compromised by remorse.

Not that I was any expert on serial killers. As Detective Dun had said, I was relying on what I'd seen on TV and what I'd read about Ted Bundy and Arthur Gary Bishop, both Mormons, in the days when I'd been an atheist and looking for reasons to stop believing in the church.

I stood up and tried to meet the detective's eyes. “What makes you think that there are any other bodies?” Had they found something in the garden that we hadn't heard about yet? Were there unclaimed murder victims in Draper from the last thirty years they think could be linked to Tobias?

“We don't know if there are, but a man who has killed once and gotten away with it is more likely to try again,” said Detective Dun.

“Now aren't you the one who is making assumptions?” How pompous that sounded. He was the detective here. I was just a stay-at-home mother and a bishop's wife. That was my life. It just so happened that this one murder had impinged on my world. Well, two murders, I suppose.

The detective reopened his notebook and wrote a few scrawled words. I imagined they were warnings about not talking to me again.

“He wasn't a dangerous man,” said Anna. “If you'd known him, you'd have seen how carefully he controlled his temper.”

“Then he had a temper? You saw that?” asked Detective Dun.

“Well, we all have feelings that we can't control,” Anna said. She was still seated on the couch and had to look up to talk to him. I wished she'd stand up and not let him intimidate her like that. “But we control how we act on those feelings.”

“So you're saying he often suppressed his feelings?” said Detective Dun. “He was a very controlled person?”

“Tobias was a good man. A good husband and father,” said Anna.

“Have you considered the fact that you were in danger every day of your life with him?” asked Detective Dun.

Anna put a hand to her throat and shook her head.

Detective Dun seemed to realize finally he had gone too far. But the burden his sister's death had left on him was heavy. I could understand that.

“If you could guide me through the rest of the house,” he said.

Anna stood at last, and led him through the house then, showing him every little corner or cubbyhole she could think of. She insisted she had cleaned them all when she moved, but then the detective pointed out a wall that was strangely placed, considering the footprint of the rooms overhead. While Anna and I waited in uncomfortable silence, Detective Dun went up to Tobias's shed and got a pry bar. Then he came back and used it to break through the wall with a few well-placed taps. There was only sheetrock there, no studs.

“What do you think you're going to find?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You never know. But sometimes people keep things they shouldn't. They don't want to let go.”

Then the space was open, dust flying all around, and I saw him lean in and pull out a book and some papers. The book, when he opened it, was clearly a diary written by Helena Torstensen, more than thirty years ago, beginning the day of her wedding. The papers were her wedding certificate and other legal documents and photos.

Detective Dun turned to the last entry in the diary.

“Does it say something about being afraid of Tobias killing her?” I asked after watching him try to read it in the dimly lit basement.

He shook his head. “Not that I saw. But I'll read through all of it.” Then he leaned into the space again and pulled out some clothes. I didn't know why Tobias had kept the other dress in the shed when he'd kept all these clothes here.

The detective packed everything up, keeping notes on it all. “What happens now?” I asked.

“We still have to prove the identity of the woman. And then the autopsy will have to show us conclusively how she died. But even after all that, I don't know if we'll ever be absolutely certain about who killed her at this stage. We may leave the case open,” he said.

“And what about the body?” I asked.

“After we've finished the investigation we can release her remains to the family to bury.” He nodded to Anna. “That would be your sons, I assume.”

“Yes,” said Anna quietly. She looked at me.

“I'll make sure the arrangements are made for that, Anna. If it happens.” Another funeral for the Relief Society to put on. I could make sure this part was done right for the long-dead woman, even if we had done so much else wrong.

We had a big celebration for Joseph and Willow at the family dinner in late April. We'd skipped the March family dinner. Kurt had slept through his non-meeting times because of the pressure of the tax season, even on family Sabbath.

I made a cake and everyone brought presents to go with the one I'd already bought.

“We're having a girl!” Joseph announced.

My stomach dropped and I did my best to conceal this reaction. Why wasn't I happy? We needed a girl in the family. This should feel like my real chance to fill the hole that my daughter had left in my life. I should be able to let go of Kelly and Carrie Helm now, shouldn't I?

Kurt was listing everyone's guesses about the birth date, and promising a “significant” prize to the person who guessed it right. He looked like the father of the bride, the way he was strutting around. Too bad he couldn't hand out cigars.

“They're so happy about this, maybe you should start having kids, too,” Zachary said, nudging Kenneth.

“I think your mother and I would prefer that you were married first, Kenneth,” said Kurt.

Kurt still hadn't talked to Kenneth about his problems with the church, and I hadn't talked to him about my suspicions that he might be gay. How do you ask your son that? By the way, are you gay? If
he's not, does he ever get over your asking him? Maybe it was best for me to wait for Kenneth to come out of the closet in his own good time. If he was even in a closet.

“Prefer?” I said sternly. “If any of my sons has a child without marrying the mother first, I will make sure you suffer significant pain,” I said sternly, looking at Samuel and Zachary more than Kenneth.

“Oooh, we're scared!” said Zachary.

“Don't mock a mother with a thirst for vengeance,” said Kurt.

“I thought Mom was all about forgiveness,” said Samuel.

“I'm about making sure that I get to know my grandchildren. And if there is any chance that I will end up missing out on the life of one my grandchildren, you will all pay for it,” I said.

We ate the cake and then the boys had a wrestling contest, which ended with me losing one glass vase I didn't care much about and two plates I did. Apparently, what was most important about this was that they had proven their masculinity to their own satisfaction, and to the satisfaction of everyone else. Including Kurt, who joined in at the very end, and lost to Kenneth, which I could see made him grin fiercely.

Finally, they all went home, leaving the house very quiet. Samuel went upstairs to get ready for Monday classes, and Kurt put on an apron and helped me do the dishes.

“Do you want to talk about the baby?” he asked.

Which one did he mean? Joseph and Willow's or ours? I sighed. “What is there to say?” What had there ever been to say?

“That is what I always thought before now, that talking would only cause pain and heartache, Linda, but I don't know. The grief seems to be affecting you more and more lately, instead of less and less.”

“It was an important moment in my life. In some ways, it defines me and what I have become since then.”

“Then why don't you want to talk about it?” asked Kurt.

“Because you and I think so differently about it. I think we'd just argue over it.”

“We're both hurt by what happened. Why can't we find similarity in that?”

I handed him a dish to hand wash. “I think you want answers more than I do. I think the questions are more soothing to me.”

“Questions aren't soothing. By definition, they demand answers.”

I pressed my lips tightly together. There it was, the difference between us, the reason that we never talked about this together.

We got through the rest of the week as usual. Kurt had his meetings. I was on autopilot mostly, dishes and laundry and making sure that Samuel had what he needed for the last term of his senior year.

He'd been accepted to the University of Utah and BYU. He and Kurt would soon have to talk about whether he needed to defer his acceptance for a mission or if he planned to go to a semester or two of college first—if he went on a mission at all. Joseph's not going on a mission had nearly destroyed his relationship with Kurt, and that was back before Kurt was a bishop.

O
N
F
RIDAY AFTERNOON
the first week in May, Kurt called to tell me that the police had more information on the Carrie Helm case.

“Do they know who did it?”

“It doesn't sound like they're much closer to that, but they wanted me to warn the two families involved that they will be releasing the information that she was found naked and it appears that she had sexual intercourse within an hour of her death. There is no physical evidence that it was rape.”

Why had they taken so long to release this information? Why hadn't they done anything to find her killer since her death? Was it because they, too, thought she'd deserved what she got? “Do they think it was this Will she was staying with in Las Vegas?” I asked.