Puller. “I didn’t know I had a responsibility to do so,” she retorted. “He most

likely died on the very night my mother disappeared.” “So what?” “Who found

him?” “I did.” “But you were separated,” said Puller. “You weren’t living

together.” “We were supposed to meet to go over some details of the divorce. He

didn’t show up. I called. He didn’t answer. No one knew where he was. I drove

over there…And found him.” “How did he die? The article I read didn’t say.” “Why

is this any of your business?” “If it’s connected to my mother’s disappearance

it is my business.” “How could it possibly be?” “Please, Mrs. Bristow, just

answer the question,” said Knox.

 

She sighed, took a sip of tea, and said, “He overdosed.

 

Painkillers. He’d suffered an injury and had a big supply of them in the house.

He apparently used a whole bottle of them to commit suicide.” “You said that my

mother helped you work through issues.” “She did.” “You also said she helped

your husband.” “Earl and Jackie were friends,” she said stiffly. “I’m not

suggesting there was anything deceitful going on between them,” said Puller. “I

don’t see where this is going,” said Bristow sharply. “My mother got a phone

call the night she disappeared. I was there. I remember she looked upset,

agitated. Then she got dressed and went out somewhere. Could the call have come

from your husband? Would he have called my mom if he were in distress? If he

needed to talk?” “Particularly if he were contemplating suicide,” added Knox.

“And if he did, don’t you think it likely that my mother would have gone over

there to talk to him?” When Puller had mentioned the phone call, Bristow’s face

had paled and she had put her teacup down because her hand had started to