by Becki Willis
“…said, I’ve heard it all over town. Folks are saying we don’t want a playboy chief of police. We want strong, dependable leadership. Someone who shows no favoritism and who has the tenacity and integrity to go after criminals, no matter who they are. Someone who doesn’t take a vacation in the middle of a big case.”
“Isn’t it true that Chief deCordova recently broke up an illegal narcotics and gambling network that had been operating not only here, but all over the county? And that many of those involved were highly esteemed members of the community, including a local banker?” the reporter asked.
“Yes, but that was after he and his fiancée had been kidnapped by members of the organization. What does that say for his competency if the man, himself, can be kidnapped?”
“I imagine his supporters would say the fact that he came out of the situation alive and put the perpetrators behind bars speaks well for his competency,” the reported pointed out. “Speaking of his fiancée, Madison Reynolds of HOME TV fame, isn’t it true that Chief deCordova was married two days ago? A honeymoon typically follows. Is that the vacation you referred to?”
“Yes, yes, he did get married on Saturday,” Werner confirmed, nodding as if that proved his very point. “Poor Nigel Barrett was murdered there, at the reception. A reception where his alleged killer was an invited guest! That’s the point the townspeople are making. Chief deCordova is a close friend of the accused—”
“Excuse me, but I must point out that the official cause of death has not been released, and there is currently no evidence to support the fact Nigel Barrett was murdered,” the reporter inserted. “Therefore, there are no charges of murder, and no accused.”
Werner kept talking, ignoring the interruption. “—and, in fact, had a guest list full of famous and elite at his wedding reception. That fact alone, in addition to the way he posed for the cameras this morning, proves Brash deCordova feels he is above the law and can conduct this sham of an investigation in any manner he pleases.”
The moment he referenced the photo, the newsroom wasted no time in pasting a thumbnail of the image into the corner of the screen.
“To clarify, Mr. Werner, did you attend the reception?”
“I did not.”
“But as you understand it, several in attendance were, indeed, high-profile guests?”
“No doubt. Tony Sanchez, for instance, and Mick Malchy. Both of them played pro ball with deCordova. Chuck Norris lives in the area, you know, and is rumored to be a close friend of the chief. And of course Trevor Washington was there, who was the official at the center of the referee scandal that rocked college ball while deCordova was head coach at Baylor. I—”
“Surely, you aren’t suggesting that Chief deCordova was involved in the college referee scandal! RefGate happened years ago, and from what I can recall, all involved were fully exonerated.”
“There were unanswered questions in that case, just as there are questions here. It seems odd that in both situations—RefGate and now Barrett’s death—Brash deCordova had a great deal to gain financially.”
“Are you suggesting that Chief deCordova—at that time Coach deCordova—was involved in the RefGate scandal and is now somehow involved in the death of a wealthy local land owner?”
“I’m not saying anything,” Werner denied, an innocent smile spreading across his face. “I’m merely expressing some of the many, many concerns I’ve heard throughout the twin cities of Naomi and Juliet. Twice the citizens, twice the worries of collusion. Worries that perhaps the chief is allowing personal relationships and personal gain to cloud his judgment and make him unfit to hold the revered title of chief of police.”
The reporter turned back to face the camera. “And there you have it, Scott. Reporting live from the streets of Naomi and Juliet, Texas, better known as The Sisters, this is Cameron Colson for EYE50 News.”
As the screen segued to the weather forecast, Maddy hit the mute button. Irate energy bounced her off the couch and onto her feet.
“Can you believe the gall of that man!” she raged. “How dare him! Who does he think he is, making those kinds of accusations against you? And they’re all false, every one of them!”
“Not all of them,” Brash said wearily. “We did get married Saturday. Technically, I am off work, whether you call it a honeymoon or a vacation. We did have several high-profile guests at the wedding, including the ones he named. And, unfortunately, that is where Nigel died. All those things were true.”
“And that’s where the truth ended. For starters, there’s no proof Nigel was murdered. It could have been an accident.”
Where her voice was high pitched and irate, his was calm and even. “It could have.”
“And no one has been arrested yet or charged with murder. Tony is not the alleged killer, or the accused, or whatever insinuating term he used.”
“You and I both know that.”
“And practically accusing you of that college scandal! How dare him!”
“He claimed those weren’t his words,” Brash pointed out, his voice even but slightly sardonic. “He was just a vessel for the people.”
“The people, my eye!” Madison huffed. “You’d be hard pressed to find even two people who said any of those things about you, much less “twice” the citizens! Maybe Sharona Werner and Myrna Lewis, but no one else! He made it sound as if half the population had suddenly turned on you.”
“I think her name is Sharese. And for all we know, half the town may have turned on me by now.”
“You know that’s not true, Brash. People here adore you. They know you’re the best chief of police we’ve ever had.”
“People can be easily influenced, Maddy. Stir up their emotions, play on their insecurities, fans their doubts, and even the staunchest supporter can suddenly turn against you.”
“How can you sound so calm and rational about this? Doesn’t that man infuriate you the way he does me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then how can you just sit here and take it?” she demanded.
“As opposed to what?” he reasoned. “Ranting and raving, which will accomplish exactly nothing? Rushing out and demanding the cameras give me equal air time? That would be playing into his hand. For now, I won’t give him the satisfaction of a reply.” His strong jawline settled into what Madison recognized as stubborn determination.
She was still irate enough for them both. “Then you’re a better person than me! Just who does that man think he is!” She balled up her hands and rammed them onto her hips.
“We know exactly who he is,” Brash said quietly. “He’s the man out to get my job.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Madison avoided her phone as much as possible the next day, even though it rang excessively. By noon, she had turned it off, but not before taking some of the more important calls.
The kids called, having caught sight of Brash on the Colorado news feeds. Megan’s first inclination was to catch the first flight home, but Maddy assured the teen that her father was handling things fine and preferred she stay and have a good time. In truth, none of the teenagers should be exposed to the circus now camped out on the sidewalk. It reminded Madison too much of their time in the spotlight with Home Again, and the invasion of privacy they all suffered through.
Genny called to say she was bringing supper that night; now wasn’t the time for Madison to be concerned with cooking. Madison reminded her friend that no one had died (other than Nigel), but Genny said it was the least she could do, and that cooking for others was how she expressed her love.
Her parents called and offered to prolong their visit. They could stay at the house and ward off unwanted guests, they said, but Madison gently reminded them that this was her honeymoon, of sorts. As long as everyone stayed off the front porch, and Brash remained fully clothed, they were good for now.
Granny Bert vocalized her disdain for both Joel and Sharese Werner and offered to “get the dirt” on them. Her sources were alrea
dy abuzz with speculation. She claimed the sordid facts might come in handy in case the cameras interviewed other concerned citizens, namely herself. She gave examples of how she could innocently slip a slanderous comment into any given conversation without arousing suspicion or sounding biased. Her age, she claimed, gave her undeniable leeway in thinly veiled insults and accusations. Madison thanked Granny Bert for her support and refrained from mentioning that the insults were not nearly as veiled as her grandmother liked to imagine.
There were calls from Shannon, Laura, and Derron, all of which Madison returned. Encouraging messages left by George Gail Burton and other In A Pinch clients both past and present, a ‘friend’ in Dallas who hadn’t called since the last time Madison and family made national news, and some from cousins and aunts. There was a not-so-encouraging message from Myrna Lewis, spouting some of her continued differences with the newly married couple. A smattering of hang-ups and what she considered junk calls, even though most referenced the incident in question. And there was a rather disturbing call from Collette that Madison chose not to return. In truth, she had no idea how to respond.
“Hey, girl, this is Collette. First of all, I just want to say WOW. I knew your man was hot, but I had no idea he was that hot! If you’re ever up for a threesome… No, seriously, I just wanted to call and tell you I have your back. I know what it’s like to have people talk about you. Everyone thinks I’m such an evil witch for not having a big funeral for Bobby Ray, but I just didn’t see the point. I’m not going to pretend I’m devastated, just so his friends can play soldier. They’ve even started calling me and harassing me about it. Oh, and someone mentioned you came to Waco and talked with them? What’s that about?
“I was sorry about your friend. Well, both your friends, actually. The one who got killed and the one who did the killing. What a shame, on both accounts. I guess you lost a client, too, huh? Remember to look into that RR78 person. I’m positive he’s a good match.
“Okay, that’s all for now, I guess. Just calling to send my love. Call me if you need to talk. You’ve been such a help to me, and I’d like to return the favor. Oh. And remember. Happiness comes in three. Ciao.”
Madison dropped the phone with a grimace, as if handling it could somehow stain her hands. How, exactly, had Collette meant that parting comment about happiness coming in three? Was it a play on the old superstition of death coming in threes? Bobby Ray and Nigel were deaths one and two; she hoped there wasn’t a third. Or was it a hint that her previous suggestion of a threesome hadn’t been a joke, after all?
Either way, the call left her feeling unsettled. Madison didn’t take death lightly, and she certainly didn’t compare it to happiness.
Most of all, Madison didn’t share. Not when it came to her husband.
She found it easiest to simply turn her phone off and ignore any future calls for the day.
“I told you, Joel Werner is a weasel,” Cutter reiterated.
When he and Genny came to drop off dinner, they brought enough to feed even Blake, had he been there. Pointing out there was more than enough to share, Brash and Madison insisted the couple stay and eat.
After the meal, they settled into the family/media room for a visit.
“I cannot believe he’s spouting all those lies. And on national television, no less!” Genny added.
“We’ve had the television off most of the day,” Madison admitted. “I don’t dare get on social media.”
“Wise choice,” her friend muttered dryly, hiding behind her wine glass.
“That bad?”
“Not if you like seeing pictures of your husband. Which I’m sure you do, just not in this context. And not linked with other women.”
“Hold on. What are talking about?”
“Oh, they’ve dragged up some old photos from somewhere,” Genny said. “Some go all the way back to high school and show a different girl on his arm after every football game. Someone even found one of him hauling hay without his shirt on. There are pictures from college parties and from some toga party he went to, where the sheet barely covered the most crucial places. That one has been particularly popular, by the way.” Genny flashed a cheesy dimpled smile at Brash, who actually blushed.
“Geesh, where do they come up with these?” he wondered aloud.
“You forget, my love,” Madison answered. “Back before Facebook, we had a thing called scrapbooks. Every teenage girl had one.”
“And apparently, the ones who knew you can’t wait to share their favorite photos,” Genny agreed.
“There are pictures from your days in the NFL, especially ones from the locker rooms and anything that shows you without a shirt. I sense a theme going on,” Cutter pitched in.
“I thought you didn’t do social media,” Madison remembered.
“I don’t. But I know how to stalk someone on it, all the same.” He grinned and pumped his eyebrows a time or two.
“I’m sure Werner is behind this somehow,” Brash said. “Even if he didn’t start it, you can bet he’s promoting it and taking full advantage of the fallout.”
“So, you happen to have a great body. We could all see that, even through the clothes,” Madison reasoned. “How does that make you an ineffective chief of police? If anything, it should prove you’re in prime physical condition and able-bodied enough to do the job.”
“Yeah,” Cutter agreed. “Maybe you could work that into your next campaign.” He stood and struck a pose, similar to the one of Brash floating around the universe. “Let my body protect your body.”
“Cut it out,” Brash complained. “And that’s part of the problem, you know. I don’t have a next campaign. I’m not an elected official, voted in—or out—by the public. I’m at the mercy of my higher ups, and if they’re not happy with me, they can cut me loose at any time.”
“You know they would never do that, Brash,” Genny protested.
“I don’t know that,” he argued. “With all this nonsense floating around, and with so much attention focused not just on me, but on this case, they could decide I’m a liability, more than an asset. Right now, Werner is harping on my friendship with Tony and on my notoriety, which he fans every chance he gets.”
“And the more attention this case gets, the more pressure they’re putting on you to arrest your friend,” Cutter surmised.
“Exactly. We can’t even prove there is a case, because we can’t prove that Nigel’s death wasn’t simply an accident, but the media attention will push them into forcing my hand. The good news is, I don’t think there’s enough to make the case against Tony stick. The bad news is, Werner will eventually turn the focus to me, claiming I had the most to gain.”
“I don’t get it,” Genny admitted. “Why you? How would you benefit from his death?”
“The same way Tony would benefit. Upon Nigel’s death, fifty percent of the mineral rights on the land we purchased would revert to us. Since his wedding gift to us was the other fifty percent, Maddy and I now own a full one hundred percent. If we signed with an oil and gas company for a thousand dollars an acre, our bonus consideration would be about $200,000.”
Genny’s eyes widened, and Cutter let out a low whistle of appreciation.
“You can bet Werner will play it for all it’s worth. If you think people like the headlines now, just wait until they suggest I actually murdered someone. They won’t need a bunch of shirtless pictures then. They’ll prefer the ones of me with cuffs on my wrists and chains around my feet.”
“It won’t come to that, sweetheart,” his new bride insisted. “And so far, we don’t know if anyone is even listening to all this nonsense Joel Werner is spouting. No one local, at any rate.”
“What can we do to help?” Genny wanted to know.
“Assuming Nigel was indeed murdered by way of ingesting that shrimp, and assuming my friend Tony did not do it,” Brash answered, “I’d say the next step is to find out who did kill Nigel.”
“But how do we do that?”
> “Maddy has a theory that the person most likely to benefit from Nigel’s death is his next of kin, and I tend to agree. So, the obvious answer is to find his next of kin.”
Madison grimaced. “Yes, but easier said than done. I’ve been working on Nigel’s family tree project for weeks now, and still haven’t found a definite connection. The closest thing I have is RR78, a male living in Texas.”
“That’s vague.” Cutter frowned.
“Yep. I’ve reached out and asked for him to contact me, but who knows when, or if, he will?”
Genny still frowned, failing to follow their train of thought. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying if someone knew they were Nigel’s next of kin, they might kill him for the inheritance, right? But Nigel lost track of his family years ago. So how does that give you a suspect?”
“Nigel may have lost track of his brother and sister, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t keep up with him. Granny Bert, for instance, has known all along where his sister was. Even though she ran away from home at an early age and cut ties with her family, she kept in touch with someone back here at home.”
“So if her children knew—”
“She only had one daughter.”
Genny nodded, continuing with her hypothesis. “So if her daughter knew she was related to the Barretts of River County, she could presumably make the connection. Assuming she knew Nigel was loaded, and assuming she has homicidal tendencies, I suppose that theory could work.” She cocked her head at an angle. “But, how would this niece have gotten into the reception?”
“You saw how crowded it was. I saw several people there who weren’t invited.”
“Good point. Still, isn’t this theory making a lot of assumptions?”
“Unless we find another plausible suspect,” Madison admitted, “I’m afraid Joel Werner will make the assumption Brash was the person most likely to benefit from Nigel’s death. It would never stick, but if a little thing like a photograph can wreak so much havoc, can you imagine the damage a murder charge would do?”
