Maude's Revenge
by M. E. May
There was a knock on the front door and Maude slowly walked across the room to see who was there. Through the peephole, she could see two gentlemen standing on the front stoop, shivering in the cold November wind. The shorter of the two had a graying beard and a stocky build, while the other was clean-shaven, thin, and appeared to be about 10 years younger than the first. She tugged on the heavy oak door.
“May I help you?” she asked.
They identified themselves as police detectives and showed their sparkling. Maude adjusted her spectacles and read each carefully before deciding to grant them entrance. The younger of the two was Detective Jonathan Pratt, the other Detective Duane Smith.
“Are you Maude Hansen?” asked Detective Pratt.
“I certainly am,” she replied pleasantly. “Please come in where it’s warm. What can I do for you today?”
“As you know, your husband’s children questioned the circumstances of their father’s death, so we were required to conduct an autopsy even though his physician was sure it was a heart attack,” said Detective Smith.
“Yes, I am aware of that.”
“The results came back this morning. Apparently, your husband did not die from a heart attack as was originally thought. He died from a poison that mimics the same symptoms as a heart attack.”
“Oh my,” said Maude glancing away from the officers.
“Mrs. Hansen is there anything you would like to tell us?” asked Detective Smith.
She didn’t answer right away, but stared at the floor as though deep in thought. Then she slowly looked up at the detectives. “I had a feeling it was something like that. You see, James was my soul mate. Sort of like a twin spirit, and...” She paused and looked away again. “Well, gentlemen, I believe I have a story to tell.”
“Do you mind if we record this conversation, Mrs. Hansen?” inquired the Detective Pratt as he pulled a small recorder from his coat pocket.
“Not at all, I’m sure it’s best so you don’t forget what was said.”
The detectives looked at one another again with silent looks of comprehension. Detective Pratt turned on the recorder and began with the basic identifications of all involved in the conversation, the date, time and location of the conversation. He began the questioning.
“We are here to discuss the circumstances of the death of James Lee Hansen, husband of Maude Hansen. Mrs. Hansen, do you wish for us to stop this recording so you may contact your attorney and ask that he or she be present during this statement?”
“No, that’s not necessary,” she replied.
Detective Pratt continued. “For the record, when Detective Smith and I arrived here at 10:15 am today, we informed you that your husband’s death was not the result of heart disease, but from poisoning. You indicated you want to make a voluntary statement in this regard. Mrs. Hansen, do you understand this is now a murder investigation and you do not have to make a statement at this time?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“For the record, Mrs. Hansen, you are making this statement in regards to your husband’s death of your own free will and are refusing to have counsel present.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Please then, Mrs. Hansen, tell us what you know about the death of James Lee Hansen.”
Mrs. Hansen smiled. “This may take a while so please take off your coats and be comfortable.”
They looked at one another, Detective Smith shrugged and they complied.
“Twenty years ago, I was a lonely divorcee living in an apartment in this very town. My daughter was grown and married and ready to have her second child, so she was too busy for me. That’s when I discovered Internet dating. It was all the rage at the time. I met and dated several men and then I met someone different.”
“Mr. Hansen?”
“No, Detective Pratt, I met Alexander Pogue the man who owns this house. He and I became good friends, best friends actually. There was never anything sexual in our relationship, like brother and sister. We did a lot together when we weren’t dating anyone, movies, dinner theatre, or concerts. We had even teased one another about whether we’d ever find the right person and vowed that if we weren’t with someone by the time I was 70, I being the elder, I would move in here and we’d take care of one another.”
Maude paused and drew in a deep breath, then continued. “Alex was always there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on or was excited about something. Then I met James on the Internet. I was a bit unsure of starting a relationship with James at first because he lived 200 miles from here. I wasn’t sure how it could work. However, when he came here and we met face-to-face, I knew I had finally found the whole package,” she said with a happy dreamy look on her face.
“He had a wonderful sense of humor. We had the same moral values and political views, and best of all, he always listened to me. For six months, I struggled with how to keep this long distance relationship going, but then my job was eliminated. I decided since I had to find a new job anyway, it would be a good time to make the move and see how a full time relationship with James would work. I could always move back if it didn’t and stay with my daughter until I found another job and a place to live.
“Alex was upset I was leaving, but wanted me to be happy. As a matter of fact, he met someone before I left and after a two-week courtship decided he was going to marry her. I wanted to tell him he was crazy, but he seemed so happy, I just didn’t have the heart. Now I wish I had said something.”
She sighed offering them coffee which they declined.
Detective Pratt asked, “So, why do you wish you had told Alex he was crazy to get married?”
“Because, Detective Smith, he rushed in without getting to know her. He had a great job and this beautiful house. She’d been married and divorced four times so it just seemed to me she was only out for more real estate! They divorced after 8 years of pain and suffering, prisoners aren’t even treated as inhumanely as he was.”
“This is really an interesting story, Mrs. Hansen, but what does this have to do with your husband’s murder?” asked Detective Smith scowling.
“Ah, Detective Smith, have patience and you will see.”
She took a sip of coffee and then carried on. “James and I lived together for five years before we decided to make it legal. We just ran down to city hall one day—no muss, no fuss. James’ father, Harold, seemed very pleased, however, James’ children were not. I’m sure their dislike of me prompted this investigation.”
“Go on,” said Detective Pratt.
“Harold spoiled them shamefully after James’ mother passed. I’m not sure how they plan to manage since the Bank of Harold Hansen is gone – he died six months ago. Alicia and Tom thought they should have inherited a bigger portion of Harold’s estate and argued with James about it. James was so angry he told them they could just fend for themselves and not to count on inheriting anything from him. They haven’t spoken since.”
“Do you think they had anything to do with Mr. Hansen’s death?”
Maude half laughed, half snorted, “No, Detective Pratt. They are spoiled brats, not murderers.” She paused to take another sip of coffee and stared out the window for a few minutes.
“All of those years with James were the best years of my life. Of course, I can’t say the same for Alex. Sandra made life very miserable for him. He had a tendency to become depressed so I was very worried about him. He and James had become friends as the years went on. Then after the divorce, Alex would call me and ask how I was and if I was still happy, which I found a bit odd, but chose to ignore. There was a lot I didn’t see back then.”
“What happened next?” asked Detective Pratt.
“James took over the firm as CEO when Harold retired 8 years ago. After Harold retired we asked him to move in with us, but he didn’t want to be a burden. When his health began to fail two years ago, we finally convinced him to move to an assisted living community and, as I said, he passed on six months ago.”
As she paused and sipped her coffee again, her hands began to shake.
“Are you feeling okay, Mrs. Hansen?” asked Detective Smith. “We can stop for a while if you need to rest.”
Maude cleared her throat and stated strongly, “Oh, no Detective Smith, I want to get this off my chest.” She closed her eyes momentarily, took another deep but more labored breath and put her coffee cup on the end table.
“James retired shortly before his father’s death. Now, it was time for James to keep his promise to move me back here where I could be close to my daughter, grandchildren and friends. Alex offered for us to move in with him while we searched for a house.
“We had been here about a month when James started complaining of not feeling well. The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with him and decided James was still mourning his father and perhaps homesick. He prescribed some sort of antidepressant for him and told us to give it a few more months. James joked that his homesickness must be deep in his subconscious, because consciously he was quite content to be here. Despite the doctor’s reassurance, I knew something wasn’t right, I could feel it. Then the next thing I knew, he died.” Tears welled up in Maude’s eyes.
“I’ve been very upset I couldn’t give a memorial service in his honor before now. Of course, Alicia and Tom are only concerned about getting their hands on the money.”
Agitated, Maude stood up swayed unsteadily for a moment putting the detectives on the edge of their seats. Then she straightened up, sighed and walked slowly to the fireplace. The detectives stood up and followed her. With her back to them, she said in a rather shaky, raspy voice, “I don’t care about the money, you know. I just can’t believe I’ve lost my two best friends.”
Detectives Pratt and Smith looked at one another stunned. Detective Pratt approached her, gently touched her right shoulder. “Mrs. Hansen, what do you mean by losing your two best friends?”
“James,” she replied without looking at him, “and Alex,” she proclaimed while staring into the cold fireplace.
Detective Pratt stepped back from her. “Mrs. Hansen, where is Alex?”
Detective Smith looked at his partner as though waiting for instructions.
Maude still stared at the non-existent fire as if in a trance so Detective Pratt raised his voice a fraction to draw her out of her daze and repeated, “Mrs. Hansen, where is Alex?”
Slowly, Maude raised her head as though waking from a deep sleep and turned to look into Detective Pratt’s pale blue eyes, her face looking drawn and gray. “He’s in his bedroom, down the hall, last door on the right.”
“Mrs. Hansen, is Alex dead?” asked Detective Pratt
“Heavens no, he is just sleeping,” she said still fixated on his eyes a note of amusement in her voice. “You see, Alex loves chamomile tea, so I’ve been making some for him every night before he goes to bed. I laced his tea with sleeping pills, because I wanted him to sleep in this morning as my intentions were to call the police.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” said this, Detective Pratt focusing his attention on Maude. “Mrs. Hansen, please explain what this is all about.”
“Don’t you see, detective?” her voice cracked as tears streamed down her wrinkled face. “It was Alex. Alex poisoned James.”
“Why do you think Alex did it?”
“He didn’t confess to killing James, but two days after James died, Alex told me he has been in love with me for all these years. Stunned by this pronouncement, I suddenly realized he wanted to make sure I kept the bargain. I’ll be 70 on my next birthday. He needed for me to be free of James so I could be with him.”
She wiped her eyes then pointed to a door. “The day after Alex professed his love for me, I found something in the cabinet in the garage. I didn’t touch it because I knew what it was. You see, Detectives, I’m a nurse. I spent 12 years working in a poison control center. I know the symptoms that poison causes and James had them all,” she panted and her breathing sounded more labored.
“And what did you plan to do with this information?” Detective Pratt asked gently.
“I wrote a letter to the police telling them where to find the bottle and that Alex had killed James and I couldn’t bear it.”
The detectives looked at one another in momentary confusion, and then Detective Pratt came to a realization. “Mrs. Hansen, what have you done?”
She swooned looking more ashen faced and weak, clutching her chest. Detective Pratt caught her arm preventing her from falling.
“I should probably sit down,” she said with a weak smile.
He helped her back to the living room and told Detective Smith to call for an ambulance as he laid her gently on the sofa.
“It’s too late,” she said in a soft voice smiling up into his eyes. “That cup of coffee I’ve been drinking was laced with my sleeping pills and James’ antidepressants. Don’t forget Detective, I’m a nurse, so I knew precisely how many to take.”
“But Mrs. Hansen, why? You could have told the police your suspicions and we would have taken care of it.” Detective Pratt said in desperation.
“It’s simple, really,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Now I can be with James and the man who killed him will suffer more from my death than by any punishment the law will hand down.”
She stopped to take a few breaths as her life faded.
“I had to give him the sleeping pills, because I didn’t want him waking up and trying to save me. You understand now, don’t you?”
Detective Pratt nodded and placed her icy hands in his. He watched her as she smiled, closed her eyes and took her last breathe.
THE END
“May I help you?” she asked.
They identified themselves as police detectives and showed their sparkling. Maude adjusted her spectacles and read each carefully before deciding to grant them entrance. The younger of the two was Detective Jonathan Pratt, the other Detective Duane Smith.
“Are you Maude Hansen?” asked Detective Pratt.
“I certainly am,” she replied pleasantly. “Please come in where it’s warm. What can I do for you today?”
“As you know, your husband’s children questioned the circumstances of their father’s death, so we were required to conduct an autopsy even though his physician was sure it was a heart attack,” said Detective Smith.
“Yes, I am aware of that.”
“The results came back this morning. Apparently, your husband did not die from a heart attack as was originally thought. He died from a poison that mimics the same symptoms as a heart attack.”
“Oh my,” said Maude glancing away from the officers.
“Mrs. Hansen is there anything you would like to tell us?” asked Detective Smith.
She didn’t answer right away, but stared at the floor as though deep in thought. Then she slowly looked up at the detectives. “I had a feeling it was something like that. You see, James was my soul mate. Sort of like a twin spirit, and...” She paused and looked away again. “Well, gentlemen, I believe I have a story to tell.”
“Do you mind if we record this conversation, Mrs. Hansen?” inquired the Detective Pratt as he pulled a small recorder from his coat pocket.
“Not at all, I’m sure it’s best so you don’t forget what was said.”
The detectives looked at one another again with silent looks of comprehension. Detective Pratt turned on the recorder and began with the basic identifications of all involved in the conversation, the date, time and location of the conversation. He began the questioning.
“We are here to discuss the circumstances of the death of James Lee Hansen, husband of Maude Hansen. Mrs. Hansen, do you wish for us to stop this recording so you may contact your attorney and ask that he or she be present during this statement?”
“No, that’s not necessary,” she replied.
Detective Pratt continued. “For the record, when Detective Smith and I arrived here at 10:15 am today, we informed you that your husband’s death was not the result of heart disease, but from poisoning. You indicated you want to make a voluntary statement in this regard. Mrs. Hansen, do you understand this is now a murder investigation and you do not have to make a statement at this time?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“For the record, Mrs. Hansen, you are making this statement in regards to your husband’s death of your own free will and are refusing to have counsel present.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Please then, Mrs. Hansen, tell us what you know about the death of James Lee Hansen.”
Mrs. Hansen smiled. “This may take a while so please take off your coats and be comfortable.”
They looked at one another, Detective Smith shrugged and they complied.
“Twenty years ago, I was a lonely divorcee living in an apartment in this very town. My daughter was grown and married and ready to have her second child, so she was too busy for me. That’s when I discovered Internet dating. It was all the rage at the time. I met and dated several men and then I met someone different.”
“Mr. Hansen?”
“No, Detective Pratt, I met Alexander Pogue the man who owns this house. He and I became good friends, best friends actually. There was never anything sexual in our relationship, like brother and sister. We did a lot together when we weren’t dating anyone, movies, dinner theatre, or concerts. We had even teased one another about whether we’d ever find the right person and vowed that if we weren’t with someone by the time I was 70, I being the elder, I would move in here and we’d take care of one another.”
Maude paused and drew in a deep breath, then continued. “Alex was always there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on or was excited about something. Then I met James on the Internet. I was a bit unsure of starting a relationship with James at first because he lived 200 miles from here. I wasn’t sure how it could work. However, when he came here and we met face-to-face, I knew I had finally found the whole package,” she said with a happy dreamy look on her face.
“He had a wonderful sense of humor. We had the same moral values and political views, and best of all, he always listened to me. For six months, I struggled with how to keep this long distance relationship going, but then my job was eliminated. I decided since I had to find a new job anyway, it would be a good time to make the move and see how a full time relationship with James would work. I could always move back if it didn’t and stay with my daughter until I found another job and a place to live.
“Alex was upset I was leaving, but wanted me to be happy. As a matter of fact, he met someone before I left and after a two-week courtship decided he was going to marry her. I wanted to tell him he was crazy, but he seemed so happy, I just didn’t have the heart. Now I wish I had said something.”
She sighed offering them coffee which they declined.
Detective Pratt asked, “So, why do you wish you had told Alex he was crazy to get married?”
“Because, Detective Smith, he rushed in without getting to know her. He had a great job and this beautiful house. She’d been married and divorced four times so it just seemed to me she was only out for more real estate! They divorced after 8 years of pain and suffering, prisoners aren’t even treated as inhumanely as he was.”
“This is really an interesting story, Mrs. Hansen, but what does this have to do with your husband’s murder?” asked Detective Smith scowling.
“Ah, Detective Smith, have patience and you will see.”
She took a sip of coffee and then carried on. “James and I lived together for five years before we decided to make it legal. We just ran down to city hall one day—no muss, no fuss. James’ father, Harold, seemed very pleased, however, James’ children were not. I’m sure their dislike of me prompted this investigation.”
“Go on,” said Detective Pratt.
“Harold spoiled them shamefully after James’ mother passed. I’m not sure how they plan to manage since the Bank of Harold Hansen is gone – he died six months ago. Alicia and Tom thought they should have inherited a bigger portion of Harold’s estate and argued with James about it. James was so angry he told them they could just fend for themselves and not to count on inheriting anything from him. They haven’t spoken since.”
“Do you think they had anything to do with Mr. Hansen’s death?”
Maude half laughed, half snorted, “No, Detective Pratt. They are spoiled brats, not murderers.” She paused to take another sip of coffee and stared out the window for a few minutes.
“All of those years with James were the best years of my life. Of course, I can’t say the same for Alex. Sandra made life very miserable for him. He had a tendency to become depressed so I was very worried about him. He and James had become friends as the years went on. Then after the divorce, Alex would call me and ask how I was and if I was still happy, which I found a bit odd, but chose to ignore. There was a lot I didn’t see back then.”
“What happened next?” asked Detective Pratt.
“James took over the firm as CEO when Harold retired 8 years ago. After Harold retired we asked him to move in with us, but he didn’t want to be a burden. When his health began to fail two years ago, we finally convinced him to move to an assisted living community and, as I said, he passed on six months ago.”
As she paused and sipped her coffee again, her hands began to shake.
“Are you feeling okay, Mrs. Hansen?” asked Detective Smith. “We can stop for a while if you need to rest.”
Maude cleared her throat and stated strongly, “Oh, no Detective Smith, I want to get this off my chest.” She closed her eyes momentarily, took another deep but more labored breath and put her coffee cup on the end table.
“James retired shortly before his father’s death. Now, it was time for James to keep his promise to move me back here where I could be close to my daughter, grandchildren and friends. Alex offered for us to move in with him while we searched for a house.
“We had been here about a month when James started complaining of not feeling well. The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with him and decided James was still mourning his father and perhaps homesick. He prescribed some sort of antidepressant for him and told us to give it a few more months. James joked that his homesickness must be deep in his subconscious, because consciously he was quite content to be here. Despite the doctor’s reassurance, I knew something wasn’t right, I could feel it. Then the next thing I knew, he died.” Tears welled up in Maude’s eyes.
“I’ve been very upset I couldn’t give a memorial service in his honor before now. Of course, Alicia and Tom are only concerned about getting their hands on the money.”
Agitated, Maude stood up swayed unsteadily for a moment putting the detectives on the edge of their seats. Then she straightened up, sighed and walked slowly to the fireplace. The detectives stood up and followed her. With her back to them, she said in a rather shaky, raspy voice, “I don’t care about the money, you know. I just can’t believe I’ve lost my two best friends.”
Detectives Pratt and Smith looked at one another stunned. Detective Pratt approached her, gently touched her right shoulder. “Mrs. Hansen, what do you mean by losing your two best friends?”
“James,” she replied without looking at him, “and Alex,” she proclaimed while staring into the cold fireplace.
Detective Pratt stepped back from her. “Mrs. Hansen, where is Alex?”
Detective Smith looked at his partner as though waiting for instructions.
Maude still stared at the non-existent fire as if in a trance so Detective Pratt raised his voice a fraction to draw her out of her daze and repeated, “Mrs. Hansen, where is Alex?”
Slowly, Maude raised her head as though waking from a deep sleep and turned to look into Detective Pratt’s pale blue eyes, her face looking drawn and gray. “He’s in his bedroom, down the hall, last door on the right.”
“Mrs. Hansen, is Alex dead?” asked Detective Pratt
“Heavens no, he is just sleeping,” she said still fixated on his eyes a note of amusement in her voice. “You see, Alex loves chamomile tea, so I’ve been making some for him every night before he goes to bed. I laced his tea with sleeping pills, because I wanted him to sleep in this morning as my intentions were to call the police.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” said this, Detective Pratt focusing his attention on Maude. “Mrs. Hansen, please explain what this is all about.”
“Don’t you see, detective?” her voice cracked as tears streamed down her wrinkled face. “It was Alex. Alex poisoned James.”
“Why do you think Alex did it?”
“He didn’t confess to killing James, but two days after James died, Alex told me he has been in love with me for all these years. Stunned by this pronouncement, I suddenly realized he wanted to make sure I kept the bargain. I’ll be 70 on my next birthday. He needed for me to be free of James so I could be with him.”
She wiped her eyes then pointed to a door. “The day after Alex professed his love for me, I found something in the cabinet in the garage. I didn’t touch it because I knew what it was. You see, Detectives, I’m a nurse. I spent 12 years working in a poison control center. I know the symptoms that poison causes and James had them all,” she panted and her breathing sounded more labored.
“And what did you plan to do with this information?” Detective Pratt asked gently.
“I wrote a letter to the police telling them where to find the bottle and that Alex had killed James and I couldn’t bear it.”
The detectives looked at one another in momentary confusion, and then Detective Pratt came to a realization. “Mrs. Hansen, what have you done?”
She swooned looking more ashen faced and weak, clutching her chest. Detective Pratt caught her arm preventing her from falling.
“I should probably sit down,” she said with a weak smile.
He helped her back to the living room and told Detective Smith to call for an ambulance as he laid her gently on the sofa.
“It’s too late,” she said in a soft voice smiling up into his eyes. “That cup of coffee I’ve been drinking was laced with my sleeping pills and James’ antidepressants. Don’t forget Detective, I’m a nurse, so I knew precisely how many to take.”
“But Mrs. Hansen, why? You could have told the police your suspicions and we would have taken care of it.” Detective Pratt said in desperation.
“It’s simple, really,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Now I can be with James and the man who killed him will suffer more from my death than by any punishment the law will hand down.”
She stopped to take a few breaths as her life faded.
“I had to give him the sleeping pills, because I didn’t want him waking up and trying to save me. You understand now, don’t you?”
Detective Pratt nodded and placed her icy hands in his. He watched her as she smiled, closed her eyes and took her last breathe.
THE END
