Page 116 of Hell Hath No Fury

“He’s heading up the investigation.”

“Let him know I’m here.” Matthias wasn’t sure what the trooper would say about his presence, but it was his best shot at gaining access.

The officer made a call—not on speaker, and his face remained passive—but when he put his phone away, he waved Matthias through.

Lukan stood outside speaking with a uniformed officer. The detective excused the other cop as Matthias approached the front door. “I thought Fergusson told you to go home.”

“That was before I found out about this.” Matthias indicated the brick house. He lowered his voice. “Neidermeyer shot herself?”

Lukan’s expression soured. “Appears that way.” He turned and motioned for Matthias to follow him inside. Lukan led the way down a hall but stopped him at a doorway.

Matthias took in the scene beyond the threshold of a home office. A woman, her back to the door, was slumped over the desk. Her arms hung at her sides, and a handgun rested on a room-sized burgundy rug, as if the weapon had dropped from her fingers. Two men in Tyvek coveralls worked over her.

“I did not expect this.” Fergusson approached Matthias, pinching a sheet of paper between his gloved fingers.

“What do you have?” Lukan asked.

“It was found in her printer.” Fergusson held the page out to his partner.

Lukan donned a pair of nitrile gloves and accepted the document. Matthias leaned in to read it with him.

To whom it may concern,

I can’t live with what I’ve done. I was in love with Sonny, but he jilted me after I’d given him my heart. It was more than I could stand. To top it off, he went and gave what was to be my company to Patrick Winslow, who flaunted it in my face. So I killed him, too. I realize I’ve been a vindictive bitch, and I can’t stand the idea of being locked up for the rest of my life. I’d rather be free of jail and of this earth.

Tina Neidermeyer

Matthias looked at Fergusson and repeated his words back to him. “You didn’t expect this? The news is already reporting that she took her own life.”

“I mean the letter. Wraps everything up with a nice tidy bow, doesn’t it?”

Lukan returned the letter to him. “Removes any question of it being a suicide.”

“Does it?” Fergusson’s mouth pursed.

Matthias was thinking the same thing.

“You aren’t buying it?” Lukan asked flatly.

“I don’t like any crime scene that feels too perfect.” Fergusson reread the letter before handing Matthias a pair of gloves. “You’ve spoken with the woman a few times. Look at this again and tell me. Does this sound like her?”

Matthias worked his fingers into the gloves and accepted the printed document. After studying it, he said, “Parts of it sound like a bad romance novel.”

Fergusson chortled. “How many of those have you read?”

He ignored the trooper. “This one sentence trips me up.” Matthias pointed.

I realize I’ve been a vindictive bitch…

“I’m not saying she wasn’t one,” Matthias said, “but would she think of herself like that?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Lukan crossed his arms. “She’s coming clean. Admitting what she’s done; who she is.”

“Maybe.” Fergusson took the letter back from Matthias. “But that sentence waves red flags in my mind, too. From my interaction with her, she seemed like a fighter. With Winslow dead, she might’ve hired a lawyer to void the change in the business agreement. Not saying it would’ve worked, but I’d think it was worth a shot.”

The forensic techs in Tyvek shifted their positions, offering Matthias a better view.

“Forget the letter.” He pointed into the room. “Where’s the blood evidence?”