Sex. Murder. Mystery(134)

“It wasn't even built right. The front door was on the wrong side of the house.”

If the house in Normandy Park was meant to bring happiness to the Letourneau family, Amber and Angie Fish wondered if it had been a flop. Even as teenagers, the girls could see that both Mary Kay and Steve were more harried and pressed for time than ever.

“Steve didn't seem happy,” Amber said later. “In the condo he did seem happier. In the house he was more cold, withdrawn.”

Mary Kay was working longer hours then, too. And though the sisters kept up with her on the phone, they didn't see her much. The days of hanging out were over and Amber and Angie missed them terribly. Whenever Mary Kay called out of desperation for a sitter, Amber or Angie—or both—would come right over. They spent the night a few times at the Letourneaus' new place, but by the following year, those kinds of visits had dropped off. Even so, they kept in touch by taking the kids out for ice cream or McDonald's every four months or so.

The little enclave of forty-some homes that made up the Letourneaus' Normandy Park neighborhood was a surprisingly tight group, even in the days of whirlwind careers and ever-evaporating time. What brought much of the cohesiveness was the network of children, and the connection they gave to the adults who raised them. Ellen and Daniel Douglas had two children, Scott and Jennifer, the same ages as Mary and Steve Letourneau's two oldest. So it was inevitable that the Douglas family would get to know the Letourneaus, though they lived at opposite ends of the neighborhood.

That Mary Kay and both Daniel and Ellen Douglas were teachers was merely a bonus. The children were always the primary connection. And while the kids shared many similarities, there was one difference. The Letourneaus were enrolled in Catholic school at St. Philomena and the Douglas kids went to public school in the Highline District where all three teachers taught.

“I'm not sure why they did it. Maybe they wanted the stricter values of the church? Ironic, isn't it?” Ellen asked later.

The Douglas home was on a stunning piece of view property once owned by Ellen's grandmother. At one time Ellen's older brother and his childhood buddy, lawyer David Gehrke, rented the little house. Years later, when the grandmother died, the property was divided and the north half sold to the Gehrkes for a much-dreamed-about home that he would build one day—“when the money comes in.”

In time the four children were inseparable. There were lessons together, bicycle rides, trips to the grungy shores of Puget Sound, and for Scott, Little League baseball with Steve Letourneau as coach.

“A really young, active family,” is how Ellen described the Letourneau brood years later. “Very involved with the kids, busy with the church. They were always busy, always hectic, and always late—for school, meetings, parties, picnics, and life. Life was busy. They were overbooked, maybe not too organized.”

There were times when Mary Kay would drop off her children at neighborhood birthday parties, leave and go to the store to pick up a gift, wrap it in the car, and return to the party. Even though the invitation had been posted on the refrigerator for weeks.

When Ellen Douglas figured out the frazzled ways of the Letourneau household she made sure she was designated car-pool mom for Steven and Scott's Cub Scout meetings. That way they would not be stuck waiting for Mary Kay and Ellen would be able to get the two boys to where they needed to be on time.

Several years later, Ellen dismissed the lateness as inconsequential.

“Nobody was ever hurt by it,” she said.

When the quicksand of a scandal enveloped the blond-headed family with the four beautiful children, Ellen Douglas wanted the world to know one thing: At one time the home had appeared happy and Steve and Mary Kay Letourneau were devoted to their children. At least, she thought so.

As much as Steve and Mary Kay sought a brand-name, status-soaked lifestyle, it was no secret among friends in the neighborhood that they had money troubles. One time Ellen Douglas watched the Letourneau children when their parents went downtown to meet with the Internal Revenue Service over some back taxes that they owed in order to get approval on some refinancing.

Another time a neighbor listened as Mary Kay complained that St. Philomena wanted to send the kids packing for public school because she hadn't kept current on their tuition. It had reached the crisis point, and a letter had been sent home and overlooked.

“It was about three inches down in the pile on the kitchen counter,” the friend said with a sigh.

Ellen Douglas even hated to bring it up later, but she couldn't understand Steve and Mary Kay's choices. Both made okay money. Both worked steadily. Yet, they were struggling beyond belief. But they had the best clothes. Steven had the coolest new bike. They even had a landscape service.