After thanking Stan, we took our food out to the car. We sat in the front seat eating the premade sandwiches with potato chips and cheese puffs, washing them down with the drinks from All-Nite Grocery. I relayed to Mom what Stan had told me, and we sat quietly wondering what one could possibly want from a place like this.
We finally visited the last store on our list, Corner Mart. It was a quick visit. The only employees in the store were a couple of teenagers who were chatting behind the counter. When asked, I learned they weren’t around when the robbery took place, were not actually interested in answering any of my questions, and no, they didn’t recognize Paul. Of course, they barely looked at the picture, but even if they had, I doubt they would have been observant enough to recognize him, even if he had been there an hour earlier.
Tired after our partial night’s sleep, we headed home. We didn’t talk much on the way, either too thoughtful to speak or too tired to try.
After I pulled into the garage, I dragged myself inside as far as the great room couch where I collapsed, knowing I still needed to call Detective Lentus. My last thought before drifting off to sleep was that I would call him when my thoughts were coherent.
A POLICE VISIT
When I arose from my nap, and with a weight in the pit of my stomach, I dialed the number Detective Lentus had given me. It was 5:30 pm, and I didn’t expect him to be in, but at least I could leave him a message. I didn’t want to put this off any longer and risk losing my nerve.
A female voice answered the phone with, “Summerhill Police. May I help you?”
“Yes, I was looking for Detective Lentus. Is he in?”
“No. But would you like to leave a message?”
“Yes. This is Brea Cass; he’s been investigating my husband’s death. I just came across some relevant information that I wanted to share with him.”
“Okay, I’ll pass the message along,” and she hung up.
I held the phone in my hand, looking at it, knowing I had just committed myself to a course of action. It was the right course, but that didn’t mean it would be an easy one.
I don’t know how long I stood there staring at my phone, but while I held it, it buzzed in my hand. It was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Yes, this is Brea.”
“Mrs. Cass, this is Detective Lentus. I understand you were trying to reach me.”
I was shocked that he would call back so quickly. I had misjudged him, to be sure.
“Mrs. Cass? Are you there?”
“Um, yes, I have some information about my husband,” was all I could get out. How should I start the conversation I needed to have with him? Excuse me, but my husband’s accomplices are the men you’re looking for?
For the second time in as many minutes, Lentus surprised me, this time by his kind response. Sensing my hesitation, he simply responded with, “Would you like us to swing by your house to discuss it?”
That sounded so much better than going down to the station, to being exposed in the open squad room. I breathed a sigh of relief and answered, “Yes, that would be helpful,” even though I wasn’t sure I would breathe again until after he had come and gone.
“When would you like us to come?”
“Anytime is fine. When are you on duty?”
“Well, we’re off for the day, but we can still come now if you like.”
I realized the phone number I hadn’t recognized was his personal number, a home or cell number. My walls broke down, and I honestly replied, “As soon as possible. I just want to get this over with.”
“No problem. I’ll call my partner, and we’ll be there in half an hour. Is that okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine. And, Detective, thank you.”
I had briefly met Lentus’ partner, a Detective Higgins, when our home was broken into. I only vaguely remembered her, but I recalled she came across as a no-nonsense cop. I hoped she was also gentle.
. . .
I was holding Noah in my arms when I heard them knock right on time a half hour later. Dad went to answer the door, and Mom reached out to take Noah. I took a deep breath and went to join the group at the front door.
I barely glanced at the two of them. I could see that Higgins was as thin and neat as Lentus was paunchy and sloppy. Maybe they balanced each other out. Then again, maybe they fought with each other all the time. As I thought it, I realized I didn’t care.
Without a word, since I didn’t trust my voice yet, I turned and ushered them into my office and shut the door behind them. They looked at me expectantly but waited for me to begin. This was, as they say, my party.
With no reason now to beat around the bush, I formed the words I had been dreading. “Detectives, I believe that my husband was involved in the robbery that led to his death.”
I imagine these two were used to keeping a straight face, but both of them registered a look of shock mixed with disbelief. I’m not sure if it came because of what I was saying Paul had done, or the fact that I was the one saying it.
It was clear they were eager for me to continue, to explain why I had made this grand statement. “It all started with his phone, Paul’s phone, that you gave back to me.” I looked at Detective Higgins, not wanting to look Lentus in the eye, knowing I had weaseled that phone out of him.
“He made a phone call from the store that night, but it wasn’t to me. In fact, I thought he was working at the hotel, when instead I found out that he had taken a leave of absence several weeks earlier. I’ve just been trying to piece together why my husband hadn’t told me about the leave and where he went each night. I didn’t think the phone call had anything to do with your investigation.”
Lentus nodded in concession to me, so I continued. “When I checked his calls, he had made a call to someone he identified simply as B P. He called that same number two other times earlier that night, but I could find no other calls made to that number at any other time. I called the number, but it was no longer in service. The only thing that makes sense is that B P stands for Burner Phone.”
Even I had to admit that what I was saying sounded far-fetched. I knew the next thing I told them would take a leap of faith on their part. They didn’t know Paul, had never known Paul. I found myself in the awkward position of needing to teach them about Paul and then impugn him. I was dreading this part most of all. It was strange that I wanted them to believe my husband was a criminal. I began to talk more rapidly, eager for them to hear and understand all the contributing factors. I didn’t want to lose their attention before I had laid it all out.
I started by telling them about Paul calling himself Apollo, god of truth and light. When I added in what Mr. Walker related to me, I could read two things in their eyes. First, it was clear they had not interviewed Mr. Walker about what Paul had said on the phone, not finding it relevant; and second, a look of dawning, as if what I was saying might actually be plausible.
While they were still with me, I added, “I believe Paul was in the store early to do a final case of it before they went forward with the robbery.”
“What do you mean, ‘a final case’?”
“Well, Mr. Schultz from Harper’s Mart recognized Paul from a few nights before the robbery. He had come in about the same time of night to buy a few items.”
My story was holding their attention. They were leaning in to catch everything I was saying.
Next, I explained to them about Alex and all that I had learned about him, his relationship with Paul, the phone calls back and forth between the two of them, even his visit to the funeral. When I told them that the break-in occurred the night after I parked in front of Alex’s house, their interest heated up. Unfortunately, I didn’t have mu
ch more than that.
Lentus noticed my pause and offered, “You know, that break-in never made sense. They never searched the rest of the house for anything valuable. The focus was clearly on this room and this room alone. It makes sense only in a context such as looking for something specific like evidence that would lead back to them. The irony is that it appears in the very act of covering up, they may have given themselves away. It’s at least a plausible theory. Is there anything else, Mrs. Cass?”
“Not really, only little things that don’t quite add up.” I proceeded to tell them about the bank accounts, even though they showed nothing, and about my supposition that Harper’s Mart had been the first.
“Do you think there would have been others?” Higgins asked.
I hesitated, a little sheepish. I didn’t want to admit how much investigating I had been doing on my own, but I was in it now, so I plowed ahead. “Yes, I think the other two went on without him. There have been three similar robberies since then.”
It was now Lentus who spoke, “Yes, we knew about those, but I wasn’t aware that you were.” He threw me a questioning glance, which I chose to ignore. He continued, “I seem to recall telling a young mother not to go about investigating this on her own,” but when I looked up, I saw he was smiling.
“I know. But before you say anything else, I also showed Paul’s picture around at the other grocery stores. Stan, at Stan’s Emporium, recognized Paul from the night before his death.” That drew a thoughtful gaze and a nod from Lentus.
Even though I was talking about things I didn’t like to acknowledge, I began to understand why Detective Lentus got excited by this. Adrenalin was starting to course through my veins. I felt a strange mixture of excitement and repulsion.
Eager to help, I turned to my desk drawers and files to find a picture of Paul, bank statements, anything I could think of. I thought of telling them about the flash drive and its contents upstairs in the safe, but I didn’t yet know what it was or if it had any relevance to the grocery store heists in the least.
The detectives, thankfully, didn’t draw it out any longer than necessary. I think they realized this was painful for me but that I was trying to do the right thing. When I finished talking and collecting items for them, they got up to leave.
“Thank you for your help. I ...” Lentus, the talkative one of the two, seemed at a loss for words.
His partner came through for him with, “You are doing an amazing job of taking a difficult situation and trying to make the best of it. You can be proud of that. We have a great deal of respect for you.”
Lentus added his agreement to that statement with a gentle nod.
“Thank you,” I quietly responded, my voice not capable of anything stronger.
. . .
When I closed the door behind them, I took a long awaited, cleansing breath. It wasn’t over, but it had at least begun.
“FAMILY” DINNER
With my “confession” complete, I felt a clearing of my mind. I had come clean, but I also had passed along the burden. I felt no need to pursue answers on my own; the two detectives, I felt sure, would find the answers we both needed.
I discovered both of my parents in the kitchen with a goopy-faced Noah. “So what’s the flavor tonight?”
“Spaghetti and crackers,” Mom responded while Dad made helicopter noises with a spoon, going in for a landing in Noah’s open mouth. I couldn’t help but mimic everyone’s smiles.
“You know what? We need a party. Let’s have a big old party tomorrow.”
My mother looked at me to see if I was serious or seriously nuts. She settled on the first and consented readily. “Sounds good, Brea! Let’s make some quick plans and we can run to the store for what we need.”
“Why don’t you go shopping for real?” Dad suggested. We both looked at him in surprise. “You both need it. We boys will stick together here. Take my credit card and go have some fun!”
“Really?” I squealed. I sounded like a teenager again. I knew it, but I couldn’t contain my excitement. I started to laugh to cover my embarrassing squeal, and before long, everyone joined in.
“Okay, so back to our party plans. Who do you want to invite or do you just want it to be us?” my mother asked.
The question had such an obvious answer that all I had to do was smile, and my mother responded with, “I know, Professor Haynesworth, Martha, and Amy.”
Straightening my shoulders, I said, “You know, I think it would be a good idea to tell everyone what I’ve learned. It’s not going to get any easier, and I’d rather they hear it from me than see it on the news or read about it in the paper. I owe them that.” I thought about that statement for a moment. “No, it’s not that I owe them, it’s that I want this. I want to be the one to tell them the truth.”
My parents just gave me that now familiar nod. I was on the right track. I was going to make it out of this with my head held high.
. . .
I let Mom and Dad make up a menu while I retreated to my study to call Amy. When she answered, I asked, “Amy, can you come over tomorrow for dinner?”
“Of course!” I could hear the unspoken, “Duh!” in her voice.
“Great! I thought I would invite Martha and Professor Haynesworth as well. I’ve learned a lot more about Paul and I want to share it with all of you.” With a brighter tone, I added, “And then we are going to party. We are going to celebrate all that is good! How does that sound?”
“That sounds great! What time should I come, and what can I bring?”
We worked out the details, and I hung up the phone with a smile. After that, I called Professor Haynesworth. He eagerly agreed to come, promising to bring whatever Alaina felt like putting together, which meant he would bring enough food all on his own to ensure no one went hungry. This would be a grand party indeed.
Next, I went to visit Martha. When I knocked, I could hear Martha’s sweet, yet powerful, voice coming from the back of the house, “I’ll be there in just a minute.” For such a small woman, who seemed to be shrinking more each year, her voice appeared to compensate, growing more robust with the passage of time.
She swung open the front door and looked up into my face with a smile of pure joy. “Brea, darling! Come in, come in! Tell me how you’re doing.” I had yet to fill her in on why I had borrowed her car, but she seemed unbothered by the situation. “Are you finding the closure you’ve been seeking?”
“You know a lot more than I ever give you credit for, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. So how is it going?”
“I’m getting closer. That’s partly why I came over. I wanted to invite you to a party tomorrow at my place. The situation got a lot more complicated, and I thought I would explain it all to you, Amy, and Professor Haynesworth at the same time. Then I just want to enjoy spending time with my improvised ‘family.’”
“I like the sound of that, but are you up to it? You look exhausted.”
“Well, I can’t say that I’ve been getting a lot of sleep lately,” I confessed. “One day I hope to make up for all this sleep debt, but I can’t see it happening any time soon.”
“Take advantage of your parents being here. Sleep, sleep, and do it without guilt. Think of it as your duty, so that you can be a better mom once they go home.”
Always trust Martha to give me the wisdom I needed but wouldn’t listen to from anyone else. “Martha, what would I do without you?”
“I don’t know. I just know you’d be miserable,” she said over her shoulder as she led me to her kitchen. When we arrived, she pulled out a chair for me and placed a ham sandwich and a warm muffin on a plate in front of my seat, as if she had been
expecting me.
“Did you know I was coming? And for that matter that I haven’t eaten dinner yet?”
She smiled with an all-knowing smile. “No, dear, but I’ve been reading the stress on your face in the last few days, and I know what that means. If you’ve been missing out on sleep, I naturally assumed eating wasn’t far behind. However, tonight you look like a weight has been lifted. Am I correct?”
I nodded agreement, and in between bites of sandwich and moist apple-banana-pecan muffin, I promised her full disclosure the next day. An hour later, armed with a plate of extra muffins for the rest of the household, I made my way home filled with the food of love and friendship.
. . .
In the end, I didn’t go shopping with Mom, not even to the grocery store. Instead, I took Martha’s advice and slept. I went to bed early that night and slept until midday.
When I woke up in the morning, I felt vibrant and full of life. I even felt beautiful again. The day was sunny and held warm promise.
. . .
That afternoon, just as I settled Noah down for his nap, Professor Haynesworth arrived with a car full of food. As we carried in fried chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs, pasta salad, fruit kabobs, and homemade chocolate cake, I mentally rearranged things in my refrigerator to accommodate the leftovers he would refuse to take home. Even accounting for what I would share with Martha and Amy, it would be a tight squeeze.
We had just arranged all of Alaina’s offerings on the kitchen counter when the doorbell announced another arrival. It turned out to be a two-for-one. Amy and Martha both stood on the porch, beaming and heavy laden with all the food they had been wanting and waiting to share with me for the last two months. Tears came to my eyes as I understood the depth of love and concern these two had for me.
The Apple of My Eye Page 16
