by Ellery Adams
Nathan held out his hand to Cooper, and she took it, reluctantly venturing down the winding path in the shadow of the woods. It was burned into her memory like a terrible nightmare—the path, the willow tree, the shadows. When they reached the wild bleeding heart, for just a moment she could see Sinclair’s body in the darkness.
“Nathan, Cooper, you’ll have to tell us what you saw back here,” Jake said, gesturing toward the whole area. “You’re the only two who saw it.”
“I was mostly paying attention to Christine,” Nathan replied. “Cooper, do you remember?”
Cooper nodded. She remembered the scene perfectly. Vividly. “He was lying right there.” She pointed to the flowers. “There was blood everywhere—the trees, the grass, his clothes, his pin, his hands, and his watch. He had a gun in his hand.”
Bryant scratched his chin. “Which hand?”
Cooper closed her eyes and pictured it. “His left.”
“Was he left-handed?”
Nathan nodded. “Kenneth said he was ambidextrous.”
“So basically, it looks like he killed himself,” Jake said. “Why on earth did McNamara decide to investigate it as a homicide?”
“He’s a homicide detective,” Trish replied. “He’s always looking for a murder to solve.”
“On the night Sinclair died, McNamara said the ground looked like there might have been a struggle.” Cooper knelt down, shining her flashlight on the ground. “There were footprints—at least two sets. I didn’t think anything of it, since the park was full that day, but the inspector seemed to think it was important.”
“Sounds like pretty thin reasoning to me,” Quinton said. “But they don’t have to explain why they opened the investigation. They just have to explain why they’re arresting you when they arrest you.”
“Christine’s lawyer gave me a little more insight,” Nathan said. “Mostly because I blocked him in in the station parking lot and told him I wouldn’t move until he explained why all this was happening.”
“That’s one way to get information,” Savannah said with a smile. “Well, what did he tell you?”
“Sinclair had no history of depression or suicide attempts, and there was no suicide note. Mostly, though, and this is as close to a quote as I can remember, ‘Forensic evidence found at the scene conflicted with the notion of suicide.’ Or something equally vague. He was probably talking about the footprints, although I suppose it could have been something else.”
Trish leaned against one of the trees and stared at the empty place in the bleeding heart where Sinclair had lain. “You’d think if it was a fingerprint or hair the cops would’ve just taken samples from the different suspects to figure out who did it.”
“Regardless,” Bryant said, “we know that Sinclair was here. We know there was some kind of evidence that pointed to homicide. However, we know that most of the signs point to suicide, right? Maybe the other evidence—whatever it is—wasn’t really evidence from the crime. Maybe it was here before Sinclair died. Maybe it had nothing to do with Sinclair at all.”
“Let’s keep that in mind while we look into suspects,” Savannah said. “We may be trying to find a killer where none exists. We need to take care with our accusations.”
Jake nodded in agreement. “Don’t want to hurt someone else like Christine’s been hurt. Where do we go now?”
“We check out alibis,” Nathan replied. They returned to the lawn. “This is where we need to compare notes, because I don’t remember what everyone learned when they talked to the Sphinx employees. Let’s see . . .” He looked again to his notes. “Mandy claims to have been in line for a food truck. Cooper and I saw her there, so her alibi is pretty well set. Nala told the police . . .” He trailed off, looking all around. “Ah. Follow me.”
He led them back toward the trees and down the path to the lake, to the smell of water and the sound of water lapping against the shore. “Nala told the police that after checking out the craft booths, she wandered around here. That puts here around the lake when Sinclair died. Who talked to Nala?”
Trish raised her hand. “Savannah and I did. She told us the same thing. Furthermore, she was quite happy to talk to us, if it would help Christine. Sounds like Christine is the only one at the office who doesn’t judge her by her relationship with Dave.”
“So Nala has no real alibi,” Nathan said. He pointed to the tree line. “She could’ve easily gone through the woods to where Sinclair died without being seen. Even if someone did spot her, no one would have paid attention.”
“Then why wasn’t she arrested?” Bryant asked. “Not that I want anyone to be arrested, but why Christine and not Nala?”
“I think it all came back to Christine’s prior relationship with Sinclair,” Nathan replied. “Seems the prosecutor is really stuck on the fact that she didn’t disclose that to the police. Heck, she didn’t disclose it to me, either, not that she usually tells me about her dates, unless they’re serious. That relationship—or the failure of that relationship—gives Christine motive in their eyes. Nala had no motive.”
“What about Kenneth?” Quinton asked. “He seems very aboveboard. What’s his alibi again?”
“He was on a conference call for a good deal of the time,” Cooper answered. “He told me that even though Sinclair wanted everyone to take the day off, he had work to do. He made phone calls during their free time.”
Nathan looked at his notes. Quickly, they returned to the lawn, where Nathan directed their attention toward a patch of trees near the parking lot. “He told the police the same thing he told you, Coop: that he found as quiet a place as he could over there to make phone calls to clients. He told McNamara he wanted to enjoy the great outdoors while he was working.”
“Did anyone check into that?” Jake asked.
“The police did. Kenneth’s client confirmed the time of that call.”
“I’m glad he has a solid alibi,” Trish said. “He seemed so eager to help us. It’d be terrible if that eagerness was just to cover up his guilt.”
“Speaking of guilt, where was Dave?” Bryant asked. “He refused to talk to Quinton and me about his alibi. What did he tell the cops?”
“He claimed he was in the first aid tent for a very itchy bug bite,” Nathan replied. “I wonder why he didn’t want to tell you guys that.”
“He strikes me as a very angry man,” Savannah said. “He probably just didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything, unfortunately. He does, however, have an alibi.”
“That might be, but his alibi is far from airtight. The guys in the first aid tent didn’t do a great job of keeping track of who came in and out. There’s no way to prove he was there.”
“Maybe he knew there was no way to track him there,” Cooper suggested. “He might have gotten first aid earlier in the day, noticed the lax security, and decided to use it to his advantage.”
“Wait a sec,” Bryant said. “We’re talking about where people were at almost six o’clock, right?”
Nathan nodded.
“What time did we get supper?”
“Right around six. Why?”
“Because right before supper I stopped at the first aid tent. Remember? The back of my neck was purple.”
“I forgot about that,” Trish said. “How is it?”
“Still peeling. Anyway, it took me a little while to get the aloe. The line at the tent was short, but it moved slower than Jake at that cooking class.”
Jake smirked.
Bryant continued. “I was in there right before we ate. I just ran back to the food trucks and found the fastest line so I wouldn’t be too late meeting you all.”
“Did you see Dave?” Jake asked. “Was he in the first aid tent, like he said?”
Bryant thought for a moment. “I can’t say for certain. I wasn’t looking for him at the time. But no, I don’t recall seeing him anywhere near the tent, and it wasn’t a very big tent.”
Nathan circled something on his legal pad. “Sounds lik
e we need to try and talk to Dave again.”
“I’ll give it a go this time,” Jake volunteered. “Since Quinton and Bryant already tried, that is. Nathan, you with me?”
“I’d be glad to help.” Nathan tucked the notepad back under his arm and the group walked back to the parking lot.
They chatted for a little while, and one by one they left. Trish, who wanted to tuck her kids into bed, was the first to go, followed by Bryant, who was scheduled to do an early morning weather forecast. Then Quinton took off, leaving the rest of the pastries with Nathan.
Soon, only Cooper, Nathan, Savannah, and Jake were left.
Jake put his arm around Savannah’s shoulders and hugged her to him. “So, Coop, Nathan, we never heard for sure about Friday.”
Nathan slapped his hand to his forehead. “I completely forgot about that. Cooper told me, and my mind just . . .”
“You’ve had a few things going on,” Savannah said. “If you’d rather wait until all this has blown over, that’d be just fine.”
Cooper shook her head. “It’ll be good for you to get out with friends, Nathan. We can all have a nice dinner together and enjoy one another’s company. What do you say?”
Nathan smiled at her. “You make a compelling argument. Savannah, Jake, we’d love to go on a double date with you, although I can’t guarantee to focus very well on the evening’s conversation.”
Jake laughed. “I won’t hold it against you! Maybe we can talk about how to nail down Dave’s alibi. Not exactly your standard dinner table conversation, but it’ll do.”
Suddenly, Cooper remembered something about Dave. She could hear his argument with Nala at Sphinx as it replayed in her mind. It was the day she’d gone to retrieve her screwdriver, and the couple was out in the front courtyard, spewing vitriol. Nala had mentioned a name, the name of a place where Dave spent nearly every evening.
“I have an idea,” she said. “What do you all say we make Friday night a working dinner?”
“How do you mean?” Nathan asked. “Do you want me to bring design work to the restaurant? I can do it, but it won’t make for worthwhile conversation.”
Cooper shook her head. “I don’t mean career work. I mean investigation work. What do you say we spend some of our double date time uncovering Dave’s real alibi?”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Savannah replied. “Let’s be honest. None of us will be able to relax until this mess with Christine is cleared up.”
“But how will we get his alibi?” Jake asked. “Bryant and Quinton tried talking to him at his apartment, and he wouldn’t even open the door completely for them . . . just enough to swear in their faces. How do you suggest we do it?”
“I suggest we don’t go to his home,” Cooper replied. “I heard Nala mention a place where he spends most of his evenings. We can go there, have supper, and try to solve the case of Sinclair’s death.”
“That sounds like the best double date I could ask for right now!” Nathan exclaimed.
Savannah nodded. “Agreed.”
“I’d say you’ve got yourself a plan,” Jake added. “So, Cooper, where are we going for our double date?”
Cooper smiled. “Ever hear of the Black Boot Tavern?”
13
The Black Boot was an old-fashioned tavern located just outside of Historic Richmond. Nestled between a chain restaurant and a hotel with its own reasonably priced steak house, the tavern was often overlooked by the tourists flocking from museum to meal to concert. It was a favorite of locals, though, because unlike neighboring establishments, the Black Boot had character. The walls were red brick, aged beautifully, stretching up into a dark ceiling spanned by heavy oak beams. High-backed booths with leather benches matched thick tables of old, distressed wood. The glow of the lantern-like lights over each table softly peeked out of the tavern’s arched windows and onto the street.
Cooper, Nathan, Savannah, and Jake arrived just after the supper rush on Friday evening, dressed to impress. They followed the hostess to a large corner booth, which had a conveniently clear view of the restaurant—the patrons, the architectural elements, the red-topped bar, and the door to the bustling kitchen. If Dave was there, they’d see him.
“I like this place,” Cooper said, surveying the room. “It’s got personality.”
Savannah drew in a deep breath. “It smells divine. They’re cooking steak.”
Jake sniffed, too. “You’re right. That solves the question of what I’m ordering for supper. If that steak tastes half as good as it smells, I’m sold.”
Nathan twiddled his thumbs nervously. “Do you think we should find Dave first? We should at least come up with a plan.”
Cooper nodded, still searching the room. “Let’s see if we can spot him.”
Jake and Nathan glanced around as casually as possible, until Jake drew their attention with an excited whisper. “There! At the bar!”
Cooper turned for a better view, and sure enough, there was Dave. He sat alone, staring into his tumbler, eyes glassy and expression blank. He stirred his drink with his finger.
“He looks pretty comfortable there,” Nathan said. “I wonder if that’s his usual seat.”
“Probably,” Cooper replied. “If Nala wasn’t exaggerating, and I don’t think she was, Dave’s here almost every night. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has a usual seat, a usual drink, a usual appetizer, and a usual tirade he shares with the bartender.”
“That’s a very sad way to spend your evenings,” Savannah said with a frown. “Alone at a bar. I can’t imagine.”
“He brought it on himself,” Jake commented, his arm around Savannah. “He’s got a wife at home, and he’s got the power to fix his marriage.” Savannah gave him a look, and he relented a little. “Then again, he does look pretty miserable. He’s going through a lot.”
“He’s going through a lot?” Cooper asked. While Savannah preferred to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and Cooper usually appreciated that, Dave was a different case. Cooper continued. “He’s the problem. He’s the one who’s all but destroyed his marriage. He might have even murdered someone.”
“Think about it this way,” Savannah said softly. “He accused his wife of cheating on him, and he won’t—or can’t—move past that. He won’t deal with the problem, and he won’t forgive the transgression, if it exists at all. He’s boiling over with anger and hatred, pushing away the one person he’s supposed to love with all his heart, for better or worse.”
Cooper ground her teeth together. If Savannah was trying to elicit sympathy, it wasn’t working.
Still, Savannah continued. “Rather than spend his evenings with a loving wife, he spends them here, nursing a drink and stewing over his failures. Maybe he doesn’t know he’s wrong, or maybe his pride won’t let him admit it, but either way, he has to be feeling pretty hopeless. He’s lost everything, and deep down, on some level, he has to know that it’s his fault. Now, he can’t confide in the person he ought to be able to confide in. He can’t take comfort in the one person he should be able to take comfort in. That’s a terrible thing, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Cooper felt a little compassion breaking through her own stubborn judgment of Dave. She sighed. “I suppose you have a point, Savannah. I guess even someone like Dave needs kindness . . . or at least pity.”
“I might need to be reminded of that,” Nathan commented. “If I hear him yelling at Nala in the way you described it, Cooper, I might forget.”
Savannah smiled. “Understand that I’m not excusing his actions. He’s most definitely in the wrong. But he’s not in his right mind. Remember that hopeless people sometimes do very rash things.”
Jake nodded. “Like killing the presumed competition.”
“Let’s not forget he lied about his alibi,” Cooper said. “I think it’s time we . . .” The waitress approached, interrupting her thought, and it wasn’t until after they’d given their orders that Cooper was able to
continue. “As I was saying,” she began again, “I think it’s time we go over there and force him to tell us where he was.”
“I guess I’m old-fashioned,” Nathan said. “I’m not really comfortable with Cooper and Savannah confronting Dave, given his temper.”
“Then we’ll break the ice,” Jake suggested. “You and me, Nathan. If he starts swinging, Coop and Savannah can come rescue us.”
Savannah laughed. “If you get into a fight, I’ll support you wholeheartedly from the comfort and safety of this booth.”
Jake kissed her hand, and he and Nathan headed toward the bar. Cooper watched them take seats on either side of Dave, engaging him in conversation as they made themselves comfortable. For several minutes, their chatting continued amicably. Dave smiled politely and responded to their efforts. They talked and laughed, treating him like an old friend.
“What’s going on?” Savannah asked, scooting closer to Cooper.
“Looks like they’re doing great. They’re all smiles, and so is he.”
“Can you tell what they’re talking about? Have they gotten to his alibi?”
“I’m not sure. They might be . . .”
In an instant, Dave’s expression soured, and his body stiffened. He grasped his drink so tightly his knuckles turned white. Cooper feared his glass might break in his grip.
“I’d say they just asked him,” she said. “He looks mad.”
Dave stood, prompting Jake and Nathan to do the same. With every second that passed Dave’s frown became more and more pronounced, and he shook his head violently. That’s when he saw Cooper.
“Oh, no,” she said quietly, trying to hide her face behind the wine list.
Savannah’s eyes widened. “What? What’s happening?”
“I think he recognized me.”
“Oh.” Savannah relaxed a little. “Nathan and Jake won’t let him do anything.”
“I’d rather he didn’t try anything in the first place.”
She peeked out from behind the wine list to see Dave standing a foot away from her. She jumped.
“I know you,” he said, ignoring her reaction. “You were at the office.”
