Murder for Bid Read Free Page A

him, no one will.
    I caught a glimpse of movement and looked up to see Mr. Cheater who, surprisingly, was very much alive, emerge from the house flanked on either side by uniformed officers. Guess I needed to rethink my theory.
    I continued to observe the trio as they moved down the front walk. The man had changed out of his golf attire and was now wearing khakis and a striped button-down shirt. His shoulders were hunched and he swayed unsteadily, almost leaning into the officers for support. I rolled down the window as they made their way to the sidewalk. I was able to make out few snatches of their conversation.
    “Why her? Who would do this?” He seemed distraught. His shoulders heaved as he spoke.
    “Councilman Schmidt, is there anyone we can call to be with you at this time?” I heard one of the officers ask.
    Ah. So, he’s a city councilman. I watched him closely as he pulled out a cell phone and began punching buttons. A councilman would be a man closely followed by the public eye. I did a mental nod and began tugging at a loose curl, letting my mind run with this new information:
    Councilman Schmidt, after seeing his shirt in the garbage, knows he’s caught. His wife confronts him with the affair and threatens a divorce with a huge settlement. He flies into a fit of rage. He knows the divorce will tarnish his public image and ruin his political ambitions. Murdering his wife is the perfect way out. Now, not only can he be with his lover, but he will gain tons of sympathy as the grieving husband of a brutally slain woman.
    Sean, wearing white latex gloves, emerged from the house and approached the group,  “Councilman Schmidt, the coroner is having difficulty placing the time of death since your hot tub’s heater has affected the body temperature. You made the 911 call at 5:27 p.m. How long had you been in the house before you found her body?”
    I leaned out of the car window, straining to hear his answer. “Only five minutes, maybe. I came in and got a beer from the fridge and flipped on the news. I was surprised that Amanda wasn’t in the kitchen making dinner, so I headed upstairs to see what was going on. I thought maybe she wasn’t feeling well.”
    “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when you entered your home?” Sean asked.
    “No, not really. Wait. There was something weird that happened earlier today.”
    “What was that, sir?”
    “Well, I came home around lunch to change after a round of golf. When I got here, there was a woman going through my garbage.”
    Sean grimaced. I sank back into the seat and quickly turned my face away from the window, still keeping an ear peeled.
    “Can you describe her?” Sean practically choked on the question.
    “I didn’t get a great look at her face, but I remember that she was dressed in rags and had messy red hair. She must have been homeless. We usually don’t have those types in this neighborhood.”
    Dressed in rags? I was wearing overalls and a plaid shirt for crying out loud.
    “We should have him sit down with a sketch artist, sir,” one of the officers suggested.
    “Well, yes … perhaps.” Sean cleared his throat. “Everything seemed fine when you were home at lunchtime?”
    “Yes. Fine. Amanda was going to stay home this afternoon and make calls for an upcoming fundraiser for Community Union Library.”
    Sean turned toward one of the officers. “I’ll need you to find the list of people she was contacting and we’ll need a phone record to help establish a time of death.”
    “What time did you leave the house after changing, sir?” Sean inquired.
    “Around 1:00. I was back at the office by 1:30.”
    “Then you returned home at a little after 5:00.”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you have any other contact with your wife throughout the day? A phone call, email?”
    “No.”
    “Can you tell me how you discovered your wife?”
    Schmidt drew in a deep breath. “Like I said, I came in and couldn’t find Amanda so I went upstairs. I