Love Is Murder Read Free Page A

her room, she realized that shouts were coming from Trevor and Vanessa’s room. She ran down the hall to the last room on the right just as Kyle swung open his door across from the Marshes’ room. He was bare chested, and Angie had on a short robe. Both looked stunned, but Kyle took action and ran into the Marshes’ room ahead of Lucy.
    “Vanessa,” Trevor moaned his wife’s name. Tears dampened his face as he shook the lifeless body on the bed. “Please wake up!”
    Kyle froze inside the doorway. Lucy pushed him aside and went to Trevor’s side. She didn’t have to feel for a pulse; it was obvious that Vanessa had been dead for at least an hour. Her half-opened eyes were glassy and already had a thin, cloudy film over them, and her jaw and eyelids had already noticeably stiffened. Rigor mortis starts in the face and limbs and works inward.
    “Trevor, put Vanessa down,” Lucy said calmly.
    “W-why?” he cried.
    Lucy quickly assessed the large room. It was L-shaped, with a couch and desk in a small area directly in front of the entrance, and the bed in the larger area to the left. Clothes had been draped carefully over the sofa, as if someone was deciding what to wear: a simple black dress; jeans and a cashmere sweater; and a blue sweaterdress. Matching shoes were lined up beneath each outfit.
    Vanessa was on the bed in a thick white terry bathrobe, similar to the one Lucy’s sister-in-law had given her for Christmas last year. Vanessa’s long, golden blonde hair was damp and a bit stringy, as if she had brushed it after getting out of the shower but it had nearly dried before she could style it.
    A prescription bottle was on the nightstand, along with a glass of white wine. Lucy squatted to read the label without touching the bottle, remnants of her training with the Arlington County Sheriff’s Office—not that this was anything but what it seemed.
    The prescription was made out to Vanessa Russell for Seconal. Seconal was a common temporary sleep aid. The thirty-day prescription had been filled two months ago and appeared half-full—not uncommon, with the direction to use as needed for insomnia.
    The DeWitts were still standing in the doorway when Grace came through saying, “Excuse me, please, excuse me.”
    Lucy looked up. “Grace—”
    “Oh my God, what happened?”
    “You need to call the police.”
    “Police? Why? Is she—”
    “She’s dead,” Trevor moaned.
    “But how?” asked Grace.
    When Trevor didn’t answer, Lucy did. “We don’t know.”
    Trevor rocked Vanessa’s body in his arms. “I don’t understand. Why would she do this?”
    “What happened?” Grace asked.
    “It could have been an accidental overdose,” said Lucy. “We don’t know how many pills were in the bottle. It’s an older prescription.”
    Grace frowned. “But—she took pills, right?”
    Lucy couldn’t say. On the surface it looked like Vanessa had taken sleeping pills—but there was no suicide note, no indication that she’d intended to harm herself. But if she wanted to take an afternoon nap, why take Seconal, which came with the warning to only take if you could sleep for eight hours because of possible side effects? Not that people followed the rules of their medications, but if Vanessa had been taking the drug for a while, she’d know its potential dangers.
    That there was a nearly empty glass of wine was also disturbing, because anyone who regularly took sleeping pills knew alcohol enhanced the effect of the drugs, even within normal dosage.
    Alan Larson popped his head into the room and Lucy said to Grace, “Get everyone out of here. Please,” she added as an afterthought.
    She wasn’t a cop, but she’d been at enough crime scenes to know that contamination was a big problem. Not that this was a crime scene; it was technically an unattended death, but Lucy felt compelled to protect the body and the scene as much as possible before the police arrived.
    Grace walked over to the guests and said,