Summer Garden Murder Read Free Page A

hospital in the Blue Ridge mountains in southern Virginia.
    When the sentence was handed down, Louise had been in her own home, having avoided the agony of sitting out both the long trial and the verdict in the Alexandria courtroom. She’d cried out in disbelief when she heard that he’d been declared insane at the time of the murder. After the trial was done, she had decided that to live a sane life herself she would block thoughts of Peter Hoffman from her mind.
    And she’d been fairly successful. Even the news of his imminent release from Western State Hospital had only floated vaguely in the back of her mind, like a dark storm cloud that wouldn’t come too near. She never believed she would actually see Peter Hoffman again, especially in her own backyard.
    Louise and Bill, like the rest of the guests at the party, stood speechless, not knowing what to do. That is, until the feckless Mike Cunningham stepped forward. He sauntered up to Hoffman and gave him a big hug. “Peter! So good to see you.” Cunningham drew his male companion up to Peter and said, “And here’s your friend Lee Downing.”
    Hoffman boomed, “So good to see you, Lee,” and gave him a businesslike handshake. Then the handsome Cunningham leaned down to embrace the blonde in the expensive cotton knit suit who stood quietly at Peter Hoffman’s side—Peter’s wife, Phyllis Hoffman. Louise hadn’t seen her since the trial, when Phyllis had sat in a front row and supported her husband. She’d gained either weight or muscle. Mike Cunningham greeted Phyllis with a “Hi, sweetie.”
    Cunningham turned and stretched out his arms to the crowd, which was frozen in place like a tableau of wax figures. “Folks,” he said, “we all have to remember Peter has served his term, paid his debt and been declared ready to resume his place in society.”
    â€œOh, no,” grumbled Sarah Swanson, “we don’t need a killer in our midst.”
    â€œNow, now, Sarah,” Cunningham said in a rebuking tone. As if he’d just been elevated to the job of party host, he took Peter’s arm and escorted him into the midst of the group. A few people including Sarah’s husband, Mort, and Roger Kendrick, gave Hoffman a restrained greeting. He responded with a big hug for Mort and an effusive handshake for the reporter. The others remained silent and still.
    Louise’s thoughts reeled back to that moment when she’d found parts of the body of Kristina Weeren, the woman Hoffman had murdered, in the bags of leaves she’d gathered from neighbors to mulch her yard. Paid his debt? How could a man who’d massacred someone be free to enter normal society after only four years?
    Then she heard Nora’s quiet voice. She stood in the living room archway, her face pale with shock. “Peter. Mike. Wait. You must go no further until you talk to Ron. Please honor my wishes.”
    Hoffman paid Nora no attention, but Mike Cunningham paused, looking ambivalent, probably wondering whether this party-crashing was a good idea. After all, Mike now lived in this neighborhood, in the intimacy of the Dogwood Court cul-de-sac. Would he risk all cachet with his neighbors?
    Mike’s lawyer’s dilemma didn’t appear to bother Peter Hoffman an iota, for his attention was elsewhere. His glance darted first to Louise and then to the white sofa.
    As Hoffman passed by Louise and Bill, he stopped and stared straight at Louise. Bending his head, he murmured, “You’re dismayed to see me, my dear?”
    She nodded agreement and looked up at him. “I can’t believe you have the nerve.”
    â€œIt’s been a long time, Louise. Maybe we could talk things over and come to a rapprochement. After all, I have done my penance. You might find me a changed person.” Then, in a carrying voice, he continued, “Of course we can get together later and talk. I’d