by Raven Snow
Emily nodded. She reached over to her husband and gave his arm a squeeze. “He’s not very good, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm.”
***
The food came. It all looked and smelled wonderful. Rowen finished up the rest of her questions in a hurry before turning to her seafood paella. She didn’t drink much of the champagne with it. She wanted a clear head right now. It wouldn’t do to have a foggy brain at one in the afternoon. She noticed that Emily and Vernon didn’t really touch their drinks either. They had no problem, however, offering Eric and Rowen refills more than once.
“So, what’s your opinion on this latest rash of murders?” asked Rowen, making an effort to keep her tone conversational.
“Latest,” Emily repeated. “I hate that. Something really needs to be done about the crime here.”
“It’s a shame,” said Vernon, addressing Rowen. “First that poor girl missing and then that fellow from out of town.”
“He was my stepfather, actually.”
Vernon’s eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize.” He shook his head.
“Though, now that I think about it… God, maybe I did realize. Maybe I just didn’t connect the name to your face. My sincerest apologies. I’ve been so busy lately; my mind is all unraveled.”
“It’s all right,” said Rowen, even though it really wasn’t. “He and my mother hadn’t been married that long. It was kind of a whirlwind thing. They got married not long after they met.” Suddenly, the food on Rowen’s plate was less appealing. The smell turned her stomach and worked to bring out the nauseating fishy taste of the dish. “I wish I’d had the chance to know him better.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Emily. “How is your mother faring?”
“Not well. That’s to be expected though, I think.” Rowen glanced to her own husband. “Of course, we’re trying to figure out who did it.”
“That’s right,” said Vernon. “You work with the local police.”
“I own a private investigation office,” Eric confirmed. “They ask us to help out on cases every now and again.”
“Does that not conflict with the two of you working for the Lainswich Inquirer?” Emily asked.
“Eric doesn’t actually work for the Inquirer. He’s just keeping me company today.”
“She only works on stories that don’t overlap with the things we investigate,” Eric explained. “Usually, the police have us sign a bunch of documents ensuring our silence about sensitive matters.”
“Are you still working on the case now?” asked Emily, fork stopping halfway to her mouth.
“That’s a good question,” said Eric, not elaborating.
“I imagine we aren’t, seeing as one of the victims was family, and the murders seem to be connected.” Rowen elaborated for him. “No one has really told us one way or the other. I’m just assuming.”
“That doesn’t seem quite right, does it?” Vernon looked to his wife as if for confirmation. “Who’s running things at the police station right now?”
Rowen shrugged. She didn’t want to get Ben in trouble. She needed to be careful about what she said next. “I think Tarricville sent down some people who had taken over. Ben was still in the process of training someone to replace him in emergency situations. Believe me, if his wife would let him, Ben would still be directing things from his bed. Heck, he might have someone to install it in the middle of the police station so that he could better direct his men.”
Vernon smiled. “I’m not questioning Ben’s skills as a police chief. I’ve been very pleased with his work thus far.”
“We both have,” said Emily.
“Do you have any theories about all of this?” asked Rowen.
“About what?” Vernon caught on before Rowen could answer him. “Oh, you mean about the murders?”
Rowen nodded. “You must have been briefed on what’s going on. Do you have any opinion on all of this?”
Vernon’s eyes darted to the recorder on the table. “Is this on the record?”
Rowen snatched up the recorder and shoved it into her purse. “Of course not. We’re just making small talk.”
“And what a subject for small talk it is.” Vernon sighed. “I really couldn’t say. I suppose that’s why I don’t work with the police.” He tried to turn that last part into a joke, but it was in poor taste. No one laughed, and the smile slipped right off his face. He cleared his throat. “Do you have any thoughts, Dear?” he asked his wife.
Emily shook her head. “I can’t really speculate on something like that. I couldn’t begin to imagine what must go on in a person’s head to make them capable of that sort of thing.”
Rowen pushed on. “You know the place where it happened, right?”
“Near the edge of Lainswich, wasn’t it?” asked Vernon.
Rowen nodded. “It happened on some property that draws in a whole lot of people. The guy who owns the land is named Jeff. There’s a lot of partying that goes on there.”
“I’ve heard of the place,” said Emily, her expression grim.
Vernon nodded. “I believe I may have as well.”
It would have been surprising if they hadn’t. It was surprising enough that they weren’t speaking in absolutes now. How could they not have heard of it? Officials had tried to come down hard on the place before. There was drug use and the occasional underage person showing up only to head home inebriated. Never mind the near nightly bonfires that probably weren’t all that legal either.
***
After lunch, Rowen made sure to snap a few pictures of the mayoral couple. Once she had a few that she liked, they all went their separate ways. At least, they were supposed to have gone their separate ways.
“Where are we going?” asked Eric, looking out the window as they passed by the Inquirer and their private investigations office.
“There’s one more thing I want to look into at city hall,” Rowen said, looking straight ahead as she drove.
“Again?” Eric groaned. “Come on. It’s going to look weird if we just keep showing up.”
“Didn’t something about our talk with the mayor and his wife come off as odd to you?”
In Rowen’s peripheral vision, she saw Eric shrug. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve spent a lot of time around people like that. Sometimes wealthy people, especially ones in positions of power, are just really phony. I’m sure they’ve both broken a law or two. I’m sure they’ve done plenty of immoral stuff in their time, but… I dunno. I’m not sure they’re murderers.”
“I didn’t say anything about murder.” Even so, there was something that wasn’t quite right there.
“Why would they even have reason to kill Andrea or Rory? Especially Rory. They didn’t even know him—and we don’t have evidence that Andrea was in any way connected to public officials. We’ve looked into her pretty thoroughly. I feel like we would have noticed something like that.”
“I’m just saying there’s something weird,” snapped Rowen, trying to speak quickly before he could naysay theories before she even had a chance to fully form them. “Besides, it’s not Emily and Vernon I want to talk to. If that was the case, I would have just spoken with them at lunch.”
“Who then?”
***
They waited around the back of city hall for what felt like ages. Sure, they had done stakeouts that took longer in the past, but Eric was still annoyed. “I wish you’d told me we were going to be doing this today. I would have brought something to read.”
“How could I have known that this is what we’d be doing? I didn’t know until after lunch… Besides, you should always carry a book around. I always carry one in my purse.”
“Well, I’m a man, aren’t I? I don’t have a purse.”
“You could own a purse. Technically, no one is stopping you from getting a purse.”
Eric groaned and leaned back in the passenger side seat. “First those horrible waiting room chairs and now this. What a day.”
“Like we have anywhere else to be.” Rowen wiggled back in her seat, trying her best to get comfortable as well. It was a losing battle from the get go. Eric was right. They had been sitting in entirely too many uncomfortable places today.
“Don’t we?” asked Eric.
“What? You mean that interview stuff? I already messaged what I could to Rose. I can take care of the rest tonight.” Rowen didn’t much feel like writing an article, but she wasn’t going to make Rose do it and, for once, Margo, Willow, and Peony all had enough to take care of on their own.
“That’s not what I was talking about exactly.”
Rowen looked at her husband, not sure what he was getting at, at first. “Oh,” she said finally, realizing. “Oh, come on. Don’t you give me a hard time about that too? You were there. It was like she didn’t even want me around!”
“I’m not trying to give you a hard time.” Eric threw his hands up in innocence. “I just think this is harder on you than you’re letting on. You’ve got plenty to concern yourself with without letting this stuff weigh you down.”
“So, what? I should just let whoever murdered Rory and that poor girl get away with whatever?” Rowen didn’t trust the Tarricville police to take care of this. If the past had shown her anything, it was that she needed to look into problems such as this herself. “No, we have to keep going. This won’t be solved otherwise.”
Eric sighed and nodded. “Whatever you say.”
“What? You think we’re wasting our time out here or something?”
“No, it’s a solid lead. I just think there are a lot of leads to follow. Too many actually.”
“Well, I have a good feeling about this one.”
“That’s all I need to hear then.”
Rowen wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or pleased with her husband. She settled on somewhere in between. “Thanks,” she said. She wasn’t thanking him for anything in particular. It was more just to indicate that she appreciated him in a broad sense. He was a good man, a supportive one. His fretting over her safety and health could get annoying, but Rowen supposed that was normal when you loved someone. She knew she certainly did her own fair share of worrying about Eric, especially lately.
***
It felt like a long time indeed before the person they were waiting for rounded the corner. Rowen had turned the radio on low, mostly to ignore Eric’s complaints. He wanted to run across the street to the gas station and grab them something to drink. Rowen kept arguing with him. He knew better than anyone that you couldn’t just wander away from a stakeout because you were thirsty. Besides, with the sort of luck the men in her family were having lately, she didn’t want him running across any busy streets. The arrival of the receptionist finally put a stop to his complaining. Without a word shared between them, they both opened their respective car doors.
The receptionist stopped walking, one hand on the strap of her purse, the other holding her phone. She looked from Rowen to Eric then abruptly picked up her pace, hurrying to her car.
“Hey, there,” said Rowen, moving quickly to intercept her. “Do you think we could have a word?”
“It’s been a long day. I’m going home.” The receptionist tried to move around Rowen, but suddenly Eric was there to block her as well.
“My wife just has a few questions,” Eric said, his voice quiet, like he was making an effort not to intimidate her. Not intimidating someone was a difficult feat to accomplish when you were over six feet tall and blocking someone’s way.
The receptionist took a step back and raised her phone like a threat. “Just leave me alone. I don’t know what you want, but—I want to go home.”
Rowen felt a tightness in her chest. She didn’t like being a bully. She didn’t like Andrea and Rory being dead either, she reminded herself. “I saw you at Jeff’s. You know, that place on the edge of town. Where they found the bodies? You sped past me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The receptionist’s voice wavered a little like she was nervous. Undoubtedly, she was.
“I think you do,” Rowen countered. “Why else did you come out here to move your car? You were afraid I would recognize it. Well, I did. What now?”
The receptionist looked from Rowen to Eric again. “I just want to go home. I don’t want any part in all of this.”
“It sounds like you’ve played a part either way,” Rowen pointed out.
“Just tell us what you know.” Eric’s tone was still gentle. “We won’t go to the cops if we don’t have to. We won’t try to get you into any trouble. There will be justice for all of this. Even if we do have to go to the cops with something you said, it’ll look better if you were forthright.”
The receptionist sagged a bit. “Fine,” she relented. It was like a weight had been lifted from her, like giving herself permission to tell them what was going on had given her an immediate sense of relief. “I don’t want to talk about it here, though.”
Chapter Eleven
For the second time that day, Eric and Rowen sat down with someone for questioning. They had gone to a cafe this time. They found a corner booth, and Rowen and Eric ordered coffee. The receptionist just bought herself a juice. She was wound up enough. Coffee would only make her more jittery.
Her name was Polly. She was in her mid-thirties and had worked for the mayor for nearly ten years now. It paid well, she said. She got benefits, and the work was easy. She had liked her job just fine until a year back or so. That’s when things had started going downhill.
“I don’t want you to think I’m…” Polly looked down at her juice. She chewed at some loose skin on her bottom lip, wearing at her already faded lipstick. “I’m not the kind of person who…”
“Were you having an affair with Vernon Roth?” asked Rowen, seeing no point in beating around the bush. Better they just got everything out in the open.
Polly raised her head, eyes widening. She looked around as if making sure that no one was near enough to overhear them. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. He and his wife have an open marriage. She sleeps with other people, too.”
Rowen wasn’t sure that made sleeping with your boss any better. Granted, it made Rowen question the mayor’s character more than it did Polly’s. How could you keep working for a person if they asked for sex and you refused? Vernon had power over Polly whether she was aware of that or not. “How long had that been going on?”
Polly shrugged. “About a year after I started working for him, I guess. He hasn’t really shown an interest recently, though. He’s gotten kind of distant, actually. We haven’t slept together for a little over a year. I think… I think he must have found someone else.”
“Who?” asked Rowen.
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t really pay attention, and I definitely don’t ask. I know he’s had me order flowers for him a few times for different women. I hated it. It felt like he was trying to hurt my feelings.”
“I’m sorry,” said Rowen. She meant it, too. No one should have to put up with that sort of thing.
Polly shrugged. “I think he wants me to quit. Maybe I’m too old for him. He probably wants a hot new receptionist or something.” She nudged the juice idly, pushing it up and down the table. “He can just fire me if he wants me gone that bad. It’s not fair.” Polly paused, her brow creasing, like another thought had come to mind. She had something else to say but didn’t look like she was quite sure how to verbalize it. “He’s gotten… nicer lately.”
“How do you mean?” asked Rowen.
“A couple of nights ago, it was like he was his old self around me again.” Polly looked up, meeting Rowen’s gaze. “He brought coffee and donuts in the morning. He asked if I wanted to go out to lunch with him. He even told me I was past due for a raise. It all felt too good to be true, and I guess it was.”
“He was the one who asked you to go to Jeff’s,” Eric guessed.
“Yeah, he left his
coat there,” said Polly, chewing at her bottom lip again. “It’s a nice coat. It was tailor made for him. It’s got his initials stitched in the back and everything. I didn’t realize that place was a murder scene when he sent me down there to get it.”
Her eyes widened like she was suddenly afraid that she had said something wrong. “Not that I think he killed anyone! I don’t think he has it in him to kill anyone… I just… I don’t know. He was there, and didn’t want anyone to know about that. It probably doesn’t mean anything. It just would have looked bad, you know? It still feels like I did something wrong. I’m not sure what to do about it. I don’t want to lose my job. I was afraid you would recognize me when I saw you out there at… Jeff’s or whatever. Then I was afraid again when you came to city hall today. I wanted to put all this behind me. I don’t want to get into any kind of legal trouble.”
Rowen nodded. She could understand that. It was morally questionable, but she couldn’t completely blame Polly. “And you’re sure that you don’t know who it was he was seeing?”
“He’s been seeing a lot of different women, I think. He hasn’t hired on any new, hot interns or anything. I couldn’t point any one specific woman out to you. I just know that he’s had me send a whole bunch of flower arrangements out under false names.”
Rowen nudged Eric. He seemed to understand immediately what she was getting at and took his phone from his pocket. He pulled up a picture on the screen and showed it to Polly. “Do you recognize her at all?” he asked.
Polly frowned at the picture. “That’s Andrea, right? The murdered girl?” She quickly shook her head. “Like I said, I don’t think he’s capable of murder. I don’t recognize her anyway. I mean, I’ve seen her on the news like everyone else, but I didn’t know anything about her before that.”
It had been worth a shot. “Thanks anyway.”
“You aren’t going to tell the cops what I told you, are you?”
“Not unless we have to. Are you willing to testify if we do?” asked Eric.
Polly sighed and after a few seconds of hesitation, nodded. “I guess so. I’m sure someone else must have done it though. I mean, they only found her hand, right? Once I got a nosebleed in Vernon’s car. I swear he just about passed out. Never mind murder, I know for a fact he doesn’t have the stomach to cut up a body.”
