Murder After Hours

by Rayna Morgan

  “Being the flavor of the month doesn’t prove she’s capable of anything besides reading a teleprompter,” an angry voice shouted.

  “Why are you complaining?” a deeper voice responded. “Brooke is the whole package. Brains, beauty, ambition. She shows a great deal of promise.”

  “You’re taking a risk assigning her feature stories. She lacks credibility. Besides, we know little about her except she’s a pretty face. Don’t forget we're in a competitive business. One bad move and our ratings slip.”

  “Brooke has given me no cause for concern.” The voice was relaxed and confident.

  “What about the police being here to see her?”

  “She explained they came about the incident at the insurance agency,” the deep voice replied in an even tone. “They were interviewing people close to the victim as a routine part of their investigation.”

  “So she says,” came the response, spoken in a churlish voice.

  “Stop worrying. She’s not trying to replace you. She wants to do more than weather, that’s all. I’m willing to give her a chance.”

  “Take my advice. If she ends up involved in the murder, you’ll be sorry you didn’t get rid of her.”

  The man with the angry voice stomped out of the room, nearly colliding with Maddy.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  She recognized the TV celebrity as he brushed past her. He smoothed his gelled hair and straightened his tie before entering the sound stage.

  Maddy found the makeup room where a heavy woman sat in front of a lighted mirror tweezing her brows.

  “I’m looking for Brooke.”

  The woman didn’t bother to turn around. “You just missed her. She’s on set.”

  Maddy moved closer to the dressing table. “Mind if I freshen up while I wait?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  Offering the chair where she was sitting, she watched Maddy pull out a lipstick.

  “Try one of ours. I’ve got a shade that would be perfect on you.”

  She sorted through tubes of eye liners and lip gloss. “You a friend of Brooke’s, or a fan?”

  “Both.”

  “Good to hear. She has more fans than friends.”

  The woman noted Maddy’s reaction.

  “I’m not talking out of school. It’s the nature of the beast. Cutthroat business like this leaves little room for friendship.”

  “It doesn’t sound like an environment that would appeal to Brooke.”

  She handed Maddy a lipstick. “Which Brooke are you talking about? The social Brooke, or the career Brooke?”

  Maddy smoothed the rich color over her lips. “The side of her I’ve seen is almost shy. I don’t think of her as ambitious.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, honey. Brooke is anxious to make her mark. She desires the extravagant lifestyle fame brings.”

  Maddy blotted her mouth with a tissue the woman handed her. “Thanks—”

  “Tina. Makeup artist and hair stylist extraordinaire.”

  Running a comb through her own unruly mass of curls, she continued. “Brooke has what it takes, if the studio gives her a chance.”

  “I overheard her being discussed when I came down the hall.”

  “Me, too. The conversation echoed all the way down here. The loud one is the big star, the nightly news anchor. Believe me, he’s determined to keep things that way. He's using Brooke's friendship with the victim as a means to undermine her.”

  Maddy returned the lipstick. “He’s barking up the wrong tree if he thinks Brooke will be implicated in Sandra’s murder. She has a solid alibi. She was filming a special on how climate change affects the ocean.”

  “Excuse the pun, but that may not be a reliable barometer to use.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That special was canceled. The film crew got the night off.”

  Tina turned off the lights around the mirror.

  “Just another example of Brooke losing an opportunity for the spotlight.”

  Maddy took a seat in the gallery for the rest of the newscast. Questions raced through her mind as she watched the weather woman show temperatures on an area map.

  How worried was Brooke that someone with knowledge of her swinging lifestyle might ruin her career?

  Why did she lie about her whereabouts the night of the murder?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lea knocked on a door several houses down from the Dade residence. The man who answered appeared to be in his late-thirties, of average height and build, with pleasant, nondescript features.

  “We can speak in my study,” he said.

  They walked through a living room furnished in modest style, but immaculately clean. An area rug covered a floor which glistened. Board games and videos were neatly stacked on shelves. A scent of lemon furniture polish lingered in the air.

  Her host offered no introduction as they hurried past a woman leaning over two young children seated at a table. “My wife’s busy with homework.”

  A timid-looking woman glanced up and smiled shyly before turning back to her pupils. Neither child looked up from their laptop.

  Entering a room at the back of the house, he shut the door and offered a hasty explanation.

  “I understand you’re here to discuss our neighbor, but my wife won’t participate. She’s too upset by this terrible business, frightened for our safety.”

  Is he concerned about his wife’s feelings, or what she might hear?

  He waved her toward an armchair and took a seat behind a small desk.

  She handed him a card before sitting down. The card contained her name followed by the word Consultant and a phone number.

  She glanced around as he arranged a cushion on his chair. Like the living room, the floor was polished. Items on the shiny mahogany desk were meticulously arranged. The air was thick with lemon scent.

  “I appreciate you seeing me, Mr. Logan. This is a difficult time.”

  “You may call me Nathan.”

  His smile seemed genuine, but his arms crossed in front of his chest suggested an attempt to place a barrier between them.

  “I, rather my wife and I, haven’t come to grips with the news about our neighbor.”

  Lea tried to read his expression, but he averted his eyes to a paper clip which he twisted in his fingers.

  “It’s not something you believe could happen to someone you know. I’m only grateful it wasn’t in her home where my children would have been frightened by police cars.”

  He lifted his face, looking stricken. “I’m sorry if that sounded harsh. I suppose it’s built in radar to protect one’s family, to shield them from visions of violence.”

  “I understand.” She wanted to win his trust. “A natural reaction we all have as parents.”

  He fingered her card. “I don't know how, but I'm more than willing to help the authorities any way I can.”

  When Lea called Nathan, she told him she was a consultant who needed to speak to him about the police investigation of Sandra’s murder. She could not be blamed if he got the impression she worked as a police consultant. Tom might argue, but she hadn’t misrepresented herself.

  “How long have you and the Dades been neighbors?”

  “They bought that place when the Nelsons moved to Chicago three years ago.”

  “You’ve lived here longer?”

  “Much. We've lived here since we married. My son and daughter have grown up in this house.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “I’ve worked at the Main Street Bank since I graduated from college. For the last twelve years, as a loan officer.” He laughed self-consciously. “All my adult life in the same town, same job, same house. I’m a fairly boring guy.”

  He stared out the window toward the Dade residence. “I admire people like Henry who are brave enough to have their own business, but it’s nothing I would undertake. I couldn’t live that way. Without a steady paycheck, not knowing what your income will be one year to th
e next. If your enterprise fails, you lose it all. I invest my money where I’m certain it will grow.”

  He turned back with a satisfied look. “No, sir. I'm unwilling to gamble with my family’s financial security.”

  Nathan sounds like the kind of man Sandra was looking for. For a woman seeking stability, no matter how boring, she’d find it with him.

  “Of course, I have more to consider than Henry,” he continued. “My wife doesn’t work. She home schools our children. Sandra’s paycheck covers months when Henry’s business does poorly. They don't have extra mouths to feed. A family limits your options.”

  “Do you resent the limitations?”

  “Certainly not. Material possessions don’t interest me. Nor does an upward spiral on a career track. I wouldn’t trade what I have for a company of my own. There’s nothing on earth that would cause me to give up my wife and children.”

  Contrary to what the dead woman believed.

  “Mrs. Dade was strong and independent. In comparison, my Lizzie may appear mousy. Her strength lies in mothering. She’s a loving taskmaster and a fierce guardian when it comes to our kids.”

  I'm making no headway. Time for a change of pace.

  “Where were you when Sandra was murdered?”

  Though startled by the question, he answered without hesitation.

  “At home, the same as every night. I prefer routine. We have a family sit-down dinner at six-thirty. Not like most families where children eat at different times than the adults or watching TV.”

  He makes no effort to conceal his opinion of that kind of parenting.

  “While Lizzie does the dishes, I help the kids with math. We switch when they’re required to write a paper. Those nights, I let Libby take over the homework.”

  He pulled another paper clip from the holder and twisted it in his fingers. “However, my routine varied slightly that particular evening. I was a little late getting home.”

  Maybe there’s something here after all.

  His body moved as he jiggled his foot. “The fact of the matter is…”

  If he continues at this speed, we’ll be here forever.

  “I'm aware of your affair with the deceased.”

  The blood drained from his face so fast she feared he could be ill.

  “How could you know?" he choked. “What did she say before she…”

  “Was murdered?”

  “Died. I was going to say, before she died.”

  “Let’s call a spade a spade. Sandra has been murdered. When the detectives find out about your relationship, they’ll believe you had cause.”

  He leaped out of his seat. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Murder is bad business. I assure you, the police are quite serious.”

  She let the words sink in before delivering another missile. “That's not all I know.”

  He looked up sharply. Perspiration bubbled on his upper lip as he waited for another shoe to drop.

  “Henry came to see you. To confront you about having an affair with his wife.”

  He towered over his desk. “I think you should leave. Get out of my house with your vile insinuations.”

  “These aren’t insinuations, Nathan. I'm stating facts. Facts which will be uncovered during the course of the investigation.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “Why are you really here?”

  “If the police come, you’ll be their prime suspect. I’m here to eliminate you from the list of people with a motive. As things stand now, that would be impossible.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “There’s no denying you had reason to kill Sandra. If you tell me the truth, I’ll try to diffuse a case against you before the police have a chance to build one.”

  He dropped onto the chair, expelling a deep breath. When he leaned forward, his hands were shaking.

  “How did it start?” she asked.

  “I felt sorry for her. I’d hear her husband’s drunken shouting when I walked the dog.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “One night when Henry was on a rampage, she knocked on our door seeking refuge. My wife begged her to let us call the police. She refused, insisting he would be fine once the liquor wore off.”

  “Did you try to talk to Henry?”

  “I wanted to stand up to him in the worst way, but I was afraid.” He lowered his head. “I couldn't even stand up for myself when threatened by bullies at school.

  “All I could do was find out if she was all right the next day. When I saw Henry drive out in the morning, I went to her house. She invited me in for coffee. At first, I was only a shoulder for her to cry on.”

  Lea encouraged him to continue. “Your relationship developed.”

  “She brought out a side I have never experienced. The next thing I knew, compassion turned to passion.” His eyes filled with tears. “It didn’t last long, but it was one of the happiest times of my life.”

  Lea offered empathy. “I can’t imagine how you felt about your lover's death.”

  He swiped a hand across an eye. “We were no longer lovers when she died.”

  I hadn’t expected this. Donna indicated the affair was still going on.

  “I don't understand.”

  “You’re right about Henry confronting me. I don’t know how, but he found out about us. He was talking crazy, about how Sandra thought I would divorce and marry her. He told me to stay away from Sandra or he’d tell my wife I was planning to abandon her and the children.”

  For a man afraid to lose his savings on a business of his own, the thought of losing his family would be terrifying.

  “I spent the entire next day worrying. I retraced our relationship from the day it started, trying to determine what I said or did to give her the wrong idea.”

  “To make her believe you would leave your family.”

  “Why would she assume we had a future? She knew my parents divorced when I was young. She must have known I’d be the last person to do that to my own children.”

  He stared at some point above her head. “I admit Sandra provided something I was missing in my marriage, but I would never divorce Libby. Surely, Sandra understood that.”

  “Apparently, you were blind to her illusions. Or, were you unwilling to set her straight for fear she’d end the relationship?”

  He colored slightly. She’d hit a nerve.

  “Henry’s visit brought me to my senses. I realized things were out of hand and decided to end the affair. It took a while to work up the courage.”

  “When did you tell her?”

  He choked. “Monday night.”

  Lea couldn’t hide her shock. “Have you told the police?”

  He shook his head. “I was worried they would jump to the same conclusion you have.”

  “It’s hardly a quantum leap to imagine your conversation resulted in an argument which ended with her being killed.”

  “I’m trying to tell you I didn’t see her. I made the break by phone after I left work. It was a coward’s thing to do, I admit. I couldn’t face her. I sat in my car, in the garage at the bank. I wish now I showed her the respect to talk with her in person.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I explained we weren’t seeing things the same. I was sorry if I had given her the idea I would ever leave my wife.”

  “She was at her office when you spoke?”

  “I only asked if she could talk when I called. She didn’t mention where she was and I had no reason to ask.”

  He considered the question further. “I suppose I assumed she was at home. That Henry had gone out, or was listening to a game and wouldn’t hear.”

  “How did she respond?”

  “Nothing. Not a word.” He hung his head. “I couldn't think what else to say. I hung up. That was the last time we talked.”

  Is it true Sandra didn’t respond, or did she threaten to inform his wife?

  He claims he’s never stood up for himself. But did he confront Sandra to sa
ve his marriage?

  Lea reiterated the facts as she now understood them.

  “The last communication you had with the victim was to let her know the affair was over.”

  “You're jumping to conclusions again. I said it was the last time we talked. It wasn't the final time we communicated.”

  Lea vented her frustration. “You’re talking in riddles, Nathan. Give it to me straight.”

  “I received an email shortly after our conversation. She asked if I was worried about the financial repercussions of a divorce.”

  “Were you worried?” she asked. “It would have meant alimony and child support.”

  A pause during which his demeanor became defensive. “I considered it.”

  Lea shook her head in disbelief. “You said you never considered leaving your wife.”

  “I may have. Briefly. At the beginning. It’s part of the fantasy, imagining ways your life might change.”

  “Until the sobering thought of the cost of a divorce made you think twice.”

  “I’d be a fool if I didn’t. After all, we live in a state which favors women in matters of divorce.”

  “Why would Sandra even bring up such a volatile topic?”

  “She wanted me to know she had a solution if that was the reason for our break-up.”

  “What was her solution?”

  “I don’t remember. Some nonsense about inheritance from a long lost relative. Enough to take care of us the rest of our lives. Fairy tale stuff. Frankly, it disgusted me. It was the woman’s desperate attempt to salvage our relationship, but it had the opposite effect. I realized she was as unbalanced as her husband. All I felt was relief to be done with them both.”

  “I’d like to see the email.”

  “I'm afraid that's impossible. I deleted the message as soon as I read it. Together with every email she’d ever sent.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  At Henry's house, Tom and Pat pulled behind a security car with two occupants.

  The man who got out wore a blue uniform with a Collins Security patch on the shoulder. His protruding stomach split the buttons on the shirt, exposing a small area of skin.

  The guard grinned, enjoying the excitement. “Ralph Smith, neighborhood security. I called it in.”