I nodded. “You’re Bernadette Armstrong, right?”
“I am.”
“I was hoping to speak with you for a few minutes about Holly.”
She opened the door wider but kept her body in the frame.
“I talked to the police already,” she said. “And I said everything I needed to say. I don’t see why I’d waste time repeating myself.”
“I understand why you see it that way, but my goal is to finish the investigation as soon as possible,” I said. “Then everyone can go back to their normal lives.”
“Normal lives? After what’s happened, I’m not sure things will ever be normal again.”
“Maybe not, but as long as the case stays open, we’ll have to keep coming by, trying to piece together who murdered Holly and why. I’m sure you’d like to see it wrapped up sooner than later.”
She shifted her weight, placing one hand on the doorjamb. For a second I thought she might slam the door in my face. Then she stepped onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind her.
“I’ll speak to you, but out here,” she said. “I don’t let strangers inside my house, and I don’t know you.”
We were a week from Christmas, and the cold cut straight through me. Anything under seventy forced me to bundle up like I was bracing for a blizzard. Still, she’d agreed to talk, so I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Talking on the porch works for me,” I said.
She nodded toward a chair. “You’re welcome to sit if you want.”
I remained standing. “One of the women who works for me was here yesterday, talking to some of your neighbors.”
“I remember. She was a bit … pushy.”
If you think Simone is pushy, wait until I get my claws into you.
“Your neighbors mentioned you and Celia didn’t get along,” I said.
Bernadette snorted. “It’s true. We didn’t get along, not for years.”
“Why not?”
“I have a daughter. Her name is Rochelle. Holly and Rochelle were the same age, and they went to middle school and high school together. Teenagers that age can be cruel. My daughter may have said some things she shouldn’t have, but I handled it.”
“Handled it how?”
“I’ll admit, I didn’t think it was a big deal, not at first. Then Rochelle made things worse by spreading a rumor about Holly, a rumor that wasn’t true. I was called in by the school principal, and I yanked my daughter out of every class she shared with Holly. I took her cell phone, her car keys, and I put her in therapy two days a week.”
“Do you know why your daughter targeted Holly the way she did?”
Bernadette nodded. “Several years ago, my husband died. It was quick and unexpected. He got sick with what we thought was the flu, and a couple of days later, he was dead. Rochelle didn’t handle it well. Her grades started slipping, and she started hanging around the wrong crowd.”
“That must have been hard on you.”
“You’d think Rochelle and Holly would have bonded over it, given Holly grew up without a father figure in her life. The exact opposite happened. Holly started dating a boy at school whom Rochelle had liked for a while, and that did it. From then on, they were at odds.”
“Did Holly know Rochelle liked the guy?”
“I don’t believe so, but nothing I could say convinced Rochelle otherwise. She … ahh, she started a rumor at school, told everyone Holly had an STD. When Celia heard about it, she lost her mind, and well, any pleasantries we once shared ended.”
Seemed a bit harsh.
Then again …
