The Girls Across the Bay

by Emerald O'Brien

  “How much did you see?”

  “Not much,” she sighed. “I normally can’t fall asleep before midnight, but today I was out gardening, and I think the sun got to me. I fell asleep while watching Jeopardy.”

  “So around eight or eight thirty?”

  Dorothy nodded. “I woke up to the sirens. Red and blue flashing against the living room curtains. I saw them go in, and I saw John come out just now, but Lily’s—well—she’s probably in there.” She rested her hands on her hips.

  “Did you know Lily well?”

  Dorothy sighed. “We didn’t talk much, but she was a nice young girl. Too young to be with him, if you ask me. I’ve spoken more with her than her fella. Though, there was one time I put out the recycling, and the wind blew it all over the street. No sooner did I realize, and he was out there, running around, fetching it all for me. I thanked him and asked if he’d like to come in for some coffee and cake, but he said no, just like that. Who passes up coffee and cake? Didn’t surprise me. He just comes and goes.”

  “I love coffee and cake,” Madigan said.

  “Mhmm, I make a lovely spice cake. Anyhow, she’s out there gardening on weekends. Beautiful garden.” Dorothy smiled and leaned her weight against the door knob.

  “Dorothy, before you say anymore, I want you to know I’m a reporter for the Tall Pines Gazette. Anything we talk about is confidential but I was hoping to get a statement from you about Lily.”

  Dorothy studied her, and her lip twitched. “Well, she was a nice young girl, like I said, you can quote me on that. I wonder what happened to her.”

  Madigan nodded.

  “Do you think John could have…”

  Dorothy made a face. “You never really know a person. They haven’t been here for a year, even.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well,” Dorothy smacked her lips together. “He makes me uneasy, I guess. Coming and going at odd hours. Never waves or smiles at me. Don’t get me started on the tattoos. Please don’t quote me on that, though. I’ll get a lecture from my daughter.”

  Madigan shook her head, grinning.

  What would she say about the crescent moon on my hip?

  “You don’t think…” Dorothy put her hand to her cheek. “You don’t think someone’s randomly breaking into houses, do you?”

  “I doubt it was random, but you lock up, alright? If you see anything suspicious, you should call the police.”

  Dorothy nodded. “Thank you, dear. I think I’ve just read too many mysteries. I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Dorothy,” Madigan smiled.

  “Oh, call me Dot. You know, I just remembered. I saw John leave before Jeopardy started. I was about to close the blinds—I hate the glare from the sun setting, but I hate keeping the curtains closed all day—so I close them every night and open them every morning. What was I saying?”

  “You saw John,” Madigan said, smiling.

  “Right, yes. He left just before Jeopardy started.”

  “And that was at eight?”

  Dot nodded. “Hope that helps you, dear.”

  “Thanks so much.” Madigan nodded. “Have a good night.”

  “You too,” Dot said.

  Madigan started back down the driveway. She glanced over her shoulder, and Dot waved to her before starting to close the door, but she stopped, her mouth opening as she stared across the road.

  The medical examiner rolled the stretcher with a body bag out the door, and another man helped her guide it toward their vehicle.

  Madigan walked back to her motorcycle, and instead of going home, she made a turn for the ride to the office. Thane thought he had a head start, but Banning only gave the media a bread crumb. He’d be shocked by her new information when he read her article on the front page.

  Chapter Five

  “Have you done this before?” Mac asked as they parked in front of the Martin’s home.

  Grace nodded.

  She had wanted to be the one to tell Leah’s parents about her death, but her sergeant told her it was against procedure as she was suspended and under investigation. She often wondered how the Culpers reacted to the news of their daughter’s death and if the officers who told them had been as sensitive and professional as possible. If they had handled it with the sensitivity Grace had each time she’d delivered the news of a death to a family.

  They got out of the car and walked to the door of the bungalow together in the quiet suburb. Mac pushed the doorbell and checked his watch.

  Grace knew whoever opened the door at that hour would be startled, confused, shocked, and finally dreading the words the officers came to deliver. Some stood in disbelief, although they knew the truth in their hearts.

  Mac knocked, and a light came on the other side of the door. A man with short salt-and-pepper hair opened it, standing in his robe.

  “Mr. Martin?” Mac asked.

  Mr. Martin nodded and opened the door a little wider. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Is Mrs. Martin in?” Mac asked.

  He nodded and stepped back. “Come in. What’s this about?”

  As they stepped into the foyer, a light came on upstairs, and a woman with Lily’s matching blonde hair came downstairs in a pink robe.

  “Oh God,” she said, clutching the sides of the robe together around her chest. “What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Martin said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Could you please tell us why you’re here?”

  “I’m Officer MacIntyre, and this is Detective Inspector Sheppard. We’re here to inform you that your daughter, Lily Martin, was found deceased in her home tonight.”

  Mr. Martin looked down at Mrs. Martin, but she just stared at Mac. She shook her head and stepped into the porch light. Dark circles surrounded her small green eyes, and deep frown lines formed across her forehead.

  Mr. Martin’s hands dropped away from his wife’s shoulders and clenched into fists. “He did it,” he said. “He killed her.”

  Mickey Clarke. Had they known about her no contact order against him?

  “Mr. Martin?” Mac asked.

  “John,” he said. “John Talbot. That bastard killed her. Oh, God. I told her. I told Chris…”

  He stared down at his wife.

  She’s not saying anything. She must be in shock.

  “Mr. Martin,” Mac said. “Why do you think she was killed?”

  “He beat her,” Mr. Martin said. “He’s got a terrible temper, and she came to us one time with a bruised arm. She was crying, and she said he’d kicked her out of his home. She said she was scared of him.”

  His wife looked up at him and grabbed his arm.

  “I told her I’d protect her,” Mr. Martin finished with tears in his eyes. “Chris, I’m so sorry.”

  Chris wrapped her arms around him and shook in his arms, wailing until he wrapped his arms around her.

  It’s finally sunk in for her.

  “I knew this was going to happen, but she wouldn’t listen to me,” he said. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen…but I should have been there.”

  “We should have kept her here,” Chris said. “Taken her… and then… never…”

  Grace couldn’t distinguish the words.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Martin,” Mac said. “I want to give you a moment, and then I have some questions I’d like to ask about your daughter. We want to find out what happened to her, and we’re investigating the circumstances around her death. There is a chance this was accident.”

  Mr. Martin rubbed his wife’s back, and she took deep breaths as they parted.

  “Tell me,” Mr. Martin said. “Just tell me what you know.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Martin would like to go in the other room with Detective Inspector Sheppard?” Mac asked.

  Chris looked at her husband—still sobbing—her red eyes searching his face for answers. Mr. Martin nodded and squeezed her shoulders. She sniffled, trying to catch her breath.
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  “Just until I ask the questions,” Mac said.

  Chris nodded but stood still.

  “Chris?” Mr. Martin said.

  She looked up at him and started wailing again.

  “I think,” he cleared his throat, “I think I should put her to bed.”

  “Oh, God,” she wept, reaching out for him.

  Mac nodded. “We’ll wait down here.”

  She shuffled to the stairs in her slippers as Mr. Martin led her by the arm.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Martin,” Grace said.

  As the Martins started up the steps, Grace stepped into the alcove to the living room. Other than a magazine on the seat of the Lazy-Boy, everything was organized—clean like John and Lily’s place.

  Mac stopped in front of a picture on the wall. Just Lily, in a cap and gown, likely graduating from high school.

  “They’re both convinced it was the fiancé,” she said.

  Mac nodded as footsteps thudded down the stairs.

  Maybe we should have brought him in for more questioning.

  “We need to talk to John again tomorrow,” she said.

  “You need to lock him up.” Mr. Martin entered the living room and gestured for them to sit. He took his place on the Lazy-Boy and leaned back, gripping the arms of the chair.

  “It was John,” he said, muttering toward the ceiling. “He did it. He did it.”

  “When did it all start?” Grace asked. “When did you become worried for her?”

  “When we discovered she was dating a man old enough to be her uncle,” he said, scoffing. “Either of you have children?”

  “I don’t,” Grace said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  “You worry from the start. Her mother noticed she wasn’t happy with John early on. Chris told me their first fight was a nasty one. Chris confides in me about things like that. Lily used to, anyway, until he began to isolate her.”

  “How?”

  “She worked at a club in the city. It’s how they met. He’d be jealous of the attention she got there. Pretty normal, I thought, but he’d take it out on her. Make her feel bad for what she wore. For working there at all, but she stayed because she was putting herself through real estate school—supporting herself until she finished. She graduated this year.” His smile faded as tears slid down his cheeks. “He took her away from us—before this I mean.” He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

  “I’m very sorry, Sir, but it’s important we ask these questions,” Mac said. “You said something about her leaving him?”

  He nodded and opened his eyes. “We were shocked when she came to stay with us about two months ago. She’d graduated her realtor’s exam by then. She stayed here almost a month, and then she said she was leaving. This was just a month ago. We were horrified when we heard it was to move back in with him. Couldn’t understand it. I—I wouldn’t speak to her after that. They were engaged, you know, and we just—we couldn’t understand it. How could she not see that he was all wrong for her? He didn’t really love her.”

  “What was Lily like?” Grace asked.

  “Kind. Easy to get along with. Funny sometimes, but always curious. Ambitious. Always wanting to do her own thing. And nurturing. He took advantage of her.”

  He covered his face with his hands and wiped them over his closed eyes.

  “We’ll do our best to find who did this,” she said.

  “You don’t have to investigate,” Mr. Martin said, shaking his head. “It was John. I know it was. Chris just told me something up there I think you should know.”

  Lines formed across his forehead. “Before she came to stay with us, Lily had relations with someone else. That’s what she and John had been fighting about. It’s what made her come to stay with us. I should have made her stay…”

  “Does Chris know with whom?” Mac asked.

  He shook his head.

  “So she’d been cheating on John. Do you know for how long?” Mac asked.

  He shook his head. “Just because she stepped out on him doesn’t mean she deserved how he treated her. What he did to her…” He clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists again.

  “Her arm?” Grace asked.

  He nodded.

  The same bruise John said Mickey Clarke had caused.

  “To see your daughter like that—” He shook his head. “When someone hurts your child—when a man hurts your daughter—you want to make him hurt. I took Lily being home as a sign that things would get better, and I tried to help her look forward to a life without him.”

  “Do you have any other reason to believe John would have killed her?” Mac asked.

  “They were always fighting,” he said, his eyes searching the floor just in front of him. “That’s what Chris has told me.”

  “Okay,” Mac said.

  “And,” he said, raising his forefinger, “she’d just signed a big contract to represent a wealthy client. Maybe he wanted the bonus money for himself. That selfish sonofabitch. He never knew what he had with her. He never knew—she was so special.” Tears slid down his cheeks.

  Getting her money before they were married would be difficult.

  Not much of a motive.

  “Mr. Martin,” Grace said. “Do you know anyone else who had issues with Lily? Who could have hurt her?”

  He shook his head.

  Mac held his card out to him. “If you have any questions, day or night, please call me. As we investigate your daughter’s death, we’ll notify you when we can of anything important. If you remember anything else, please let us know.”

  He nodded and leaned back in his chair.

  “We’ll show ourselves out,” Mac said.

  As they left, Mac shut the door behind them.

  “Let’s pay Mickey Clarke a visit,” he said.

  The music in the club made it impossible to hear what Mac said after they entered, but instead of following him and whatever plan he had but refused to tell her, Grace took the lead.

  If we have to confront Mickey now, females are less threatening. Let them see me first.

  They passed the booth in the V.I.P. area and Grace forced herself to focus on the case at hand instead of remembering the great times she had with Leah on the dance floor at Salty Rocks while their entourage sat in the V.I.P. area. Times when the job melted away and she let herself get caught up in the music.

  In those times, she wasn’t pretending to be Cheyenne Cameron, her cover identity, but she wasn’t really Grace Sheppard, either.

  They reached the stairs, and two large bouncers stood with their arms crossed, surveying the crowd.

  She leaned in closer to Mac, smelling his subtle cologne. “I think we should wait until we have more evidence.”

  Mac turned to the bouncer without glancing her way. “Mickey here?” he shouted.

  “Who wants to know?” one of the bouncers asked, chewing on his gum.

  “Tall Pines PD.” Mac revealed his badge.

  One bouncer smiled and said something in the other’s ear before starting up the steps. Mac took a step forward, and the bouncer who remained held out his arm.

  “This is private property,” the bouncer said while smacking on his gum. “So you’ll wait.”

  The other bouncer walked across the metal platform to a booth in the back corner of the upper level. Mac leaned in toward her. “Let me take the lead,” he said.

  You’re not my superior.

  Can I work this case alone if he’s constantly against me?

  Maybe he knows what he’s doing.

  Maybe he knows better than me.

  The bouncer sped down the steps and nodded to Grace.

  They climbed the stairs behind him, and voices of the people on the platform muddled together with music. People laughing and having fun. Men in deep discussion as the music became more of an echo.

  “Officer MacIntyre,” Mac said as he reached the booth first. “This is Detective Inspector Sheppa
rd.”

  She stepped beside him and in front of two men in the booth with a young woman between them.

  Mickey hadn’t changed since she’d last seen him at Salty Rocks. He was a sharp dresser with a buzz cut and a stoic expression. The woman tugged on the other man’s tie and giggled before giving Mac elevator eyes.

  “How can I help you?” Mickey asked Grace.

  They’d rather speak to me.

  Maybe they underestimate me.

  “Mickey Clarke? Where were you this evening?” Mac asked.

  “Here,” Mickey said, staring up at Mac from below his furrowed brow.

  “All night?” Mac asked.

  Mickey nodded.

  “Can anyone corroborate that?” Mac asked.

  “My business partner.” Mickey nodded to his side, and the other man nodded once. “You’re from Tall Pines?”

  Mac nodded, and Mickey glanced over at Grace, scanning her body with his eyes.

  Does he recognize me? We’ve never spoken. He couldn’t…

  “You’re a long way from home,” Mickey said. “What’s a small-town girl like you doing in a big city like this?”

  No smile on his face.

  What is he thinking right now?

  “You have an order of no contact out against you,” Mac said. “Lily Martin filed that report.”

  Mickey frowned. “That was a misunderstanding.” His thick, strong features became more pronounced when he frowned.

  Threatening.

  “When was the last time you saw Lily Martin?” Mac asked.

  “Almost three months,” he said. “Day before the no contact went through. Is she telling you I saw her?”

  “Lily Martin was found dead in her home tonight,” Mac said.

  Mickey’s eyes opened wide, and then he squinted up at Mac, his jaw clenched.

  Mickey, you’re either a great actor, or you’re genuinely surprised.

  “Lily’s dead?” the other man asked.

  Mac nodded. “Can anyone else say they saw you here all night?”

  Mickey’s chest heaved. Grace tried not to stare at him. His eyes scanned the empty table in front of him, back and forth.

  “Everyone up here, I’m sure.” The other man nodded and turned to Mickey. “Man, I’m sorry.”