Sex. Murder. Mystery(43)

When Candis thought about it, she wondered how well those children really fit into their mother’s life. Maybe they were an afterthought? Maybe she didn’t really have strong maternal instincts. She hardly spoke of the children. She hardly gave them a second thought. It seemed that Sharon put great emphasis on her own personal appearance, forsaking her son’s and daughter’s well-being.

‘‘She would come out looking like a New York model,” Candis said later. “The kids would look all grubby and unkempt like they had come from String Town in the south.”

Sharon, her back against the wall many years later, discounted Candis Thornton and her comments.

“I’ve always felt Candis had a real strong envy of me… that I had the kind of life most people dream of…on the outside.”

The door to Round House opened and the beautiful woman smiled. It was a few weeks after the woman and her husband patched it up after a messy separation. Her long hair was pulled back, cascading against her shoulders, and though it was a dark color on that particular day, it caught the light like a blonde’s. Her blouse was opened at the neck, past the first button, and the second… revealing breasts that were full and, Gary Starr Adams figured, meant to be seen. He knew she was a doctor’s wife. He had seen her around Weston, and despite the fact that he had been the roofer on the mountain house, they had never met. He asked if he could borrow a wheelbarrow for a job he was doing along the Wet Canyon road. They talked for a few minutes. She was friendly and interested, asking questions and remarking how great it was that as the crow flew they were practically next-door neighbors. Gary, his wife Nancy and their young son lived in a mobile home at the bottom of Cougar Ridge. The Adamses also had a daughter, but she was grown and living near Denver. By the time Gary Starr Adams met up with Sharon Lynn Nelson, his place was nothing more than a ramshackle dive, added on to willy-nilly like a dozen good intentions fallen flat.

Maybe it was right then and there. Maybe it was later. Neither could be sure. But no doubt about it, there was a little bit of magic there. Little bit of fire.





Chapter 12

THE HANDWRITING HAD BEEN ON THE WALL SINCE the day Sharon-the-preacher’s-wife sashayed into the optometry office and set her sights on bewitching the member of the Adventist congregation with the most money. Barb Ruscetti had hoped Perry’s separation from his social-climber wife had meant she also would be free of Sharon. But when the Nelsons patched things up, Barb knew her days at the office were numbered. Sharon wasn’t the type that would share her man—or his office. Sharon had made it clear time and again that the business could not support two optical assistants. One of them would have to go.

So though it still broke Barb’s heart, it was no real surprise when she was laid off the end of June 1982.

Perry left her a note with her final check:

“Barb, you know I wouldn’t do this to you for nothing in all the world. You know I don’t have much of a say-so in this anymore.’”

After seventeen years working for Perry Nelson, Barb Ruscetti held no doubts that she was about to face a challenge that would test her. She was glad unemployment insurance would help her through the rough spots until she found a new job. A month after she made her application, however, she received a letter indicating that she was ineligible for benefits. Unemployment taxes, the letter indicated, had not been paid by her employer for more than a year.

Barb Was still fuming when she found Perry in his office.

“Tell me something,” she said, waving the letter in his face. “Why haven’t you paid into my unemployment for me?”

Perry was startled. “Barb, I have,” he said.

“You’re a damn liar! If you did, why did I get this letter?”

He studied the page and shook his head. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Barb challenged him to call the unemployment office to get it straightened out and Perry immediately went for the phone.

“Hey!” A voice cut through the office.

“What the hell is going on here?” The voice belonged to Sharon.

Perry put the receiver down and Barb spun around to answer.

“Nobody’s paid into my unemployment! You took it out of my check, but you didn’t pay it.”

Sharon stiffened. “That’s a lie!”

“You mean the unemployment office is telling us we’re liars? That you did pay it?”

“Yes, I did!’”

Perry dialed the unemployment number again and spoke with someone for a few minutes about the letter, about the funds. Embarrassment replaced his outrage. Barb Ruscetti’s unemployment tax had not, in fact, been paid for thirteen months.