A Perfect Husband (17 page)

Just months before George Ratliff died, Michael Peterson had published his first novel. The folks at the military base were impressed, particularly since the book was published in America by Signet, and was released as a mass-market paperback. It seemed that Peterson was on his way to a promising career, and to the people who counted on him, like Patricia and Elizabeth, that was a wonderful thing.

However, having a book on the stands about Vietnam didn't mean that Peterson was absolutely admired by the military personnel around him. Many thought of Peterson as a braggart. They would hear him go into details about the Central Intelligence Agency and would cut him off. Ranking officers in the military didn't need to hear any of that kind of bunk. In any context, trying to sound connected to the CIA was ludicrous, yet Peterson would sometimes assert just that. For certain people, Peterson was a complete turnoff. He might have had some success as a writer, but he was largely considered a misfit. For one thing, Peterson was a night owl, he kept strange hours. For another, he often seemed to disappear on weekends, he was somewhat shady. To most straight military people, Michael Peterson was a wannabe. He joked a lot and was fun to be around, but he wasn't the type of guy anyone would want to get close to.

“I saw him as the husband of a schoolteacher who was trying to make a living at writing,” Bruce Berner confided. “I wasn't interested in reading any of his books, or any of his stories, because I saw him as an oddball. It wasn't that I had anything against Michael at the time. It's just that I wouldn't have felt comfortable talking to him intimately.”

As it turned out, even though they were next-door neighbors, Bruce and Amybeth Berner didn't really see Peterson all that much. Michael Peterson would usually sleep in the day and work in the evening. Bruce and Amybeth would notice that Michael would spend hours away from home, either at the air force gym or away on some mysterious business.

No one in their group recalled seeing Michael Peterson on any regular schedule. He often let his wife and kids do things on their own, only occasionally accompanying his family, even on their trips to other parts of Europe. In fact, it was Bruce and Amybeth Berner who took Patricia, Clayton, and Todd on one of their very first visits to Paris. The boys were young, and Bruce had his two girls from his first marriage staying with him, so the two families made the trip together, doing all the usual tourist things, seeing the Eiffel Tower, eating at fine French restaurants.

“The fact that Michael wasn't available to go to Paris, I probably didn't think too much about it,” Bruce recalled. “I had already decided that the guy was going to do pretty much whatever he wanted to do, and it wasn't going to make any sense to me. He would get up late in the day. He would decide he'd go out and exercise in the gym late at night. Maybe he'd go out and run at two in the morning. I mean, this is the way he was.”

Everyone around the Petersons pretty much accepted that Patricia was the breadwinner, and Michael was the free spirit. That was the nature of their relationship. They didn't seem to act in unison, especially when it came to sharing the responsibility of raising the boys. In terms of communication, one-on-one, Michael was good with his boys. But Patricia doted on the boys, and babied Todd and Clayton even up to the time that they were ages eight and ten.

As for the day-to-day drudgery of household chores, most of that fell on Patricia. Michael had become preoccupied, even more so after George's death, when he took on all the responsibility of caring for Elizabeth and the girls, and the Ratliff estate. Michael had become intensely involved with the military, fighting to get Liz paid, fighting to get George's autopsy, fighting to discover the truth behind his death.

It would be years later that people would learn that George Ratliff was found to have had traces of cyanide in his system, that George had died of a sudden heart attack, that he had been taking special medication for a heart condition, prescribed to him by doctors in Germany. People later wondered if George's medication had been tampered with before he left on his mission.

Because Michael was put off about doing any household chores, friends felt sorry for Patricia. Friends got the impression that Patricia was pleasant, that she had her hands full with her kids, but she wasn't entirely happy. When weekend events would come up, if Michael was not around, Patricia would make up excuses for him. She would never really say what her husband was busy doing, but neighbors would know that Michael Peterson's silver Mercedes was gone, that he was off on a romp somewhere.

Some people thought it was sad, the way Patricia would be alone so much, the way she had to take on most of the housework and the breadwinning of the Peterson household. They saw her as a very nice lady, but also as a passive person, easily controlled by Michael. It was strange that Patricia, as close as she felt to George Ratliff, had opted not to go to the funeral in Texas. It was weird that she never questioned Michael's time spent with Elizabeth, which grew more and more frequent as the months after George's death passed.

Patricia, in a sense, had become Michael's shadow. Amybeth saw her as a odd woman, someone who rarely changed her outfits, someone who wasn't very good at taking care of herself. Amybeth couldn't really picture Michael with Patricia, especially since he was so buff, such a good-looking man with a well-kept physique. Patricia dressed in prairie-style clothes, and was the opposite of Michael in every way. Amybeth and other people sometimes wondered if Michael had become romantically interested in Liz.

Not that Liz would consider it. Not for a second.

But folks were talking, through the grapevine, and finding out little things that led them to believe that Michael might have developed a secret crush on Liz. There was the knowledge that even though Patricia was Elizabeth's matron of honor, Michael deliberately chose not to attend George and Elizabeth's wedding. Later after the wedding reception, Patricia made up excuses about Michael being busy at the gym.

“It was almost like Patricia wore blinders,” Amybeth recalled. “She wouldn't see anything bad, she would only see good. It was like she refused to look at things that were bad or difficult. She only wanted to be sweet.”

But if people suspected anything about Michael, they didn't talk about it very much. They knew better than to suspect that Liz would be interested in her best friend's husband, and watching the interaction, they would notice that Liz, like Patricia, was usually quiet and passive around Michael. If anything, Liz was pursuing Patricia's friendship more than she was Michael's. But since Michael had a “take-charge” personality, it was easy to see how he could control the communication and intrude among the three of them. As for Liz's girls, Margaret and Martha, obviously it was Michael, with his take-charge attitude, more than Patricia, who would be the one to look over their well-being.

As days and months went by, Elizabeth was shifting her perspective somewhat, trying to participate in the lives of her daughters, even bringing them to social gatherings at friends' homes in Graefenhausen. Whenever Michael was present, he would become the center of attention, the entertainer at any given dinner or birthday party. People liked to sit around and let Michael tell stories. He was that type of guy, filled with tales of exotic travel, and he had a bellowing voice that took over any room.

People noticed that Michael never really gave them any personal details about his life. His stories were always focused on political events, or on details about a certain place in time. There was nothing ever said about his childhood, about his schooling, or even about his Vietnam experiences. But then, no one ever paid it much thought. Michael was a tremendous storyteller; he was witty, bawdy, intense, and very insightful.

Finding herself always tired and overwhelmed, Elizabeth decided to try out a nanny, Barbara O'Hara, a beautiful young woman who was unhappy working for a family who lived just down the street. Barbara loved the two little girls and was very good with children, and Barbara and Elizabeth hit it off right away. Within a week, Elizabeth decided that it would be best for Barbara to move in with her full-time. The girls needed constant attention and Liz couldn't keep burdening her neighbors while she was busy teaching.

The arrangement with Barbara O'Hara turned out to work very well for Liz. Her girls loved Barbara, they were learning new things with her every day, and Barbara fit right in with the group of Elizabeth's friends as well—the Berners, the Appel-Schumachers, and the Petersons.

With Barbara around, there was music played in the house, there was some semblance of normalcy again, and everyone was happy to see that. Michael took a fond liking to Barbara, and even though she was much younger, the two became buddies. Michael and Barbara would sometimes go out together on weekends. There was nothing sexual about their relationship, but the two shared their own bond. Whenever Barbara wasn't baby-sitting, it seemed, she'd find time to run off to Darmstadt or somewhere, often tooling around with Michael.

Amybeth would recall thinking it was strange—seeing the two of them together. Amybeth and Barbara had also become friendly, and she would sometimes question Barbara, wondering why the young woman was spending so much time with Michael.

Peterson seemed to act like a kid around Elizabeth's nanny. He would hang around with her alot . . . but Amybeth could never get a straight answer about what the two of them did together.

As a nanny, Barbara O'Hara grew close to Margaret and Martha, but as she continued to work for Elizabeth Ratliff, eventually their opposite lifestyles began to clash. Barbara was younger and full of life. She was staying out late; she was still a party girl. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was a homebody. She still didn't like to hear loud music. She didn't like to hear noise. Still somewhat pensive and brooding, Liz wanted order in her life. After a number of months of uncertainty, Michael suggested that perhaps Barbara should find her own place. Actually, it was Michael who helped Barbara move out. He was the one who found her a perfect apartment close to Liz's place.

Things worked out better that way, for everybody. Liz could have her peaceful weekends, her quiet weeknights. And Barbara, after a weekend of fun, would appear chipper every Monday morning, ready for a week of full-time work. Even as small children, Margaret and Martha were happy with the arrangement. They loved Barbara, their nanny spoiled them. But there was nothing better than spending time with their mom, who made sure they were dressed up like little dolls, showing them off to all her friends who would stop by for visits.

By the time Barbara was happily living on her own, working for Elizabeth as a daytime nanny, almost two years had gone by since George's death. It was a time period when Elizabeth was finally having some breakthroughs. With her daughters getting older, walking and talking independently, and looking so much like George, Liz was beginning to come around to see the positive side of life. As a surprise, Liz decided she would throw a big anniversary party for her friends Tom and Cheryl Appel-Schumacher. It was just before Thanksgiving, the start of a new holiday season, and it would be the first joyful event Liz was hosting since she became a widow.

As Liz had always done in the past, she put all of her heart and soul into the party, going to great lengths to make it an event. Liz wasn't just throwing a wedding anniversary celebration for Cheryl and Tom, she was opening her home to all of their family and all of her dearest friends. Cheryl and Tom had just arrived back from the States, and Liz had the party completely under wraps. Liz had everything arranged so they would be totally surprised. It was something she was doing as a welcome-home gift for them.

Back to her old self, Liz went all out, as did her friends, each preparing mouthwatering appetizers and extraordinary desserts. Liz wanted everything she did to be homemade, created from scratch, and she filled her home with candles and chose selections of classical music as she prepared all day Saturday for the special occasion. Liz felt like she was coming back to life, and because she enjoyed things that were refined, she wanted nothing but the best for her friends. As she set her tables and placed her serving platters out, Liz decided on Beethoven to start. She would serve the best French champagne and accompany it with caviar.

But when it began snowing on that particular Saturday, Liz became a bit panicked that the party might not be pulled off. She was hoping the snow would stop. She didn't want any cancellations. And then, to complicate matters, Liz had a bit of car trouble when she went to pick up some last-minute groceries. Suddenly Liz was worried about her own personal safety as she realized that the road conditions were really bad. She decided she needed to make arrangements to take her BMW in for service right away.

The thought occurred to her that someone might have tampered with her car; she had no idea why it was acting strangely. Even with the party approaching, she could take no chances, and as soon as she made it home, she phoned Michael. Luckily, he was there when she called to ask if he'd follow her over to the dealership. Of course Michael agreed to help her out.

But at the time, Michael was busy, on his way out. He suggested that he follow her over to BMW on Sunday, deciding it would be best for Liz not to worry about the car that night. To make life easier, Patricia got on the phone to say it would be no problem for Liz to catch a ride to work with her on Monday morning.

 

 

For a few days prior to the surprise party, Elizabeth had been getting some hang-up calls that had been making her nervous. On that same wintery Saturday afternoon, just minutes after she spoke to Michael, Liz called Amybeth looking for Barbara. It temporarily had stopped snowing, but the roads were still dangerous, and Liz told Amybeth that she was hoping to catch Barbara or get a message to her, because she needed to ask Barbara to spend the night.

“Why do you want Barbara to stay there tonight? You'll have so many people in the house already,” Amybeth wondered.

“I've been having stress headaches lately and sinus headaches,” Liz told her.

“Well, I've been having those myself. It's the allergies from the farmers' fields. I can drop you by some tablets I take—”

“No. No, I would really like Barbara to stay with me tonight,” Liz insisted. “I've been getting some hang-up calls this week, and I think someone might be watching the house.”

“Hang-up calls? What do you mean?”

“It's just someone calling me a bunch of times this week. Three times a day, maybe,” Liz told her. “I don't know what it means. But I've been feeling eerie around the house.”

“Do you have any idea who it might be?”

“Absolutely none. It's the craziest thing. I pick up the phone and someone is there faintly breathing. But they're not saying anything.”

“I'll call around to see if I can find Barbara, okay?” Amybeth said. “But if you need to, you and the girls can always come stay with us.”

Of course Liz would never impose on people like that. She promised Amybeth that she would make sure all her doors were locked every night, and then Liz moved the conversation back to the subject of the party. As Elizabeth finished listing the various dishes friends were preparing for the surprise, Amybeth asked if there was anything else she could do, anything Liz could think of that might make her feel better.

But Liz really had nothing in mind. She was sorry she'd worried her friend, and said she was going back to finish her chores of the day, expecting to see Amybeth and a houseful of people by early evening.