Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 6)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “I didn't give it to you.” I surmised he'd followed me here from Lois and Claire's house. I just didn't know what his intentions were.

  I searched up and down the aisle to make sure no one was around. I didn't trust this guy, but I figured he wouldn't pull anything funny in a public place. I kept my distance.

  He chuckled. “What? You afraid I'm gonna hurt you? Believe me, I just got out of prison. I'm not looking to go back.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Claire never got to work this morning. I think she might be in trouble. Who are you and why have you been at my daughter's house all day?”

  He was acting like he had no idea that Claire was dead, and it wasn't my place to tell him. “You should speak with Detective James. He'll give you the details.”

  A pause. “Is he a homicide detective?”

  I nodded.

  He closed his eyes and bowed his head. It took a moment for him to say, “How did it happen?”

  “I'm not allowed to disclose that information. I'm sorry.”

  With pursed lips, he finally opened his eyes to meet my gaze. “I'm her father. I have a right to know.”

  I glanced around, wondering if we were alone. I had an uneasy feeling about this but what could I do? Walk away? No, that seemed too heartless.

  Mick blinked away tears, fighting to keep his composure. “Look, could you throw me a bone, at least? I can't go to the police.”

  “Why? Is it because you've been driving around in a stolen truck?”

  He sighed. “Okay, I deserve that.”

  “So you admit that you drove by Claire's house earlier?”

  “When Claire didn't show up for work I had a feeling something was wrong. I've been circling the neighborhood all morning.”

  I failed to mention there was an APB out on the truck. “How do I even know you're Claire's father?”

  He reached into his back jeans pocket and produced a wallet. He showed me his license and an old photograph. “That's me and Claire when she was ten.”

  He gave me the photo, and I examined it. Father and daughter were holding hands on a beach. Mick looked a lot younger and had no facial hair. Claire was all elbows and knees, with braces and long black hair. They seemed happy, playing in the sun.

  “That was taken a year before her mother passed away. Our lives went to hell after that. My son Adam needed a lot of attention, and I couldn't handle it most of the time. Claire stepped in and took care of him as best she could.”

  This man might have been riddled with guilt, but that was his problem. My main focus right now was Claire. “Your daughter was last seen getting into a blue pickup truck yesterday afternoon around four. A few hours later, she's dead. I don't mean to sound accusatory but would you care to explain?”

  He held up his hands in defeat. “Look, I got out of prison a few month ago and I've been trying to get back into Claire's life. Hasn't been easy, but I figured she'd forgive me eventually.”

  “Forgive you for what?”

  “I was convicted of voluntary manslaughter eight years ago. If you want the details, go talk to my PO.”

  “Tell me what happened after Claire got into your car yesterday. Where did you go?”

  He stared at the gray tile floor, hands in pockets. “I've been driving by her house most afternoons after she gets home from work. The first few times she refused to speak to me, but I kept at it. I figured she had to forgive me at some point.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yesterday afternoon, she finally agreed to have dinner with me. I picked her up and headed downtown. On the way there, we got into a fight, and she made me pull over so she could get out of the car.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “On Islington Street, near the Irving Gas station. I begged her to get back in the car. She told me to go to hell. I was pissed so I took off.”

  “You just left her there?”

  “It's not like I dropped her off in the middle of nowhere. There was a gas station just a few hundred feet away.” He shook his head with remorse. “Believe me, for the rest of my life I'll regret letting her get out of the car. I didn't think it would be the last time I'd ever see her.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now I'll never be able to make things up to her.”

  “Do you remember the time?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at me. “I don't remember the precise time. I'd guess around 4:45.”

  “Is there anyone who can confirm that?”

  “Confirm what?”

  “Confirm she was seen getting out of your car?”

  “I don't know. Maybe other drivers on the road?”

  Could I trust this man's story to be true? He was, after all, a convicted killer. However, he seemed truly distraught over the news of his daughter's death but I'd been fooled before. “Where have you been living since your release? You have a job?”

  He backed up a step and glanced around apprehensively. “I see what you're trying to do and I'm not falling for it. You'll have the cops track me down and arrest me for stealing cars. Better yet, they'll probably try and pin my daughter's murder on me, too. No thanks, I'd rather die than go back to prison.”

  “Did you kill your daughter?” I said, just to see his reaction. Guilty people tend to get all defensive.

  “I might be a criminal and a shitty dad,” he said, “but I'm not a monster.”

  I decided to take this opportunity and ask a few questions. Cooperation is usually another indication of sincerity. “Did Claire mention anything about the money to you?”

  He seemed genuinely confused. “What money?”

  “We believe Claire was mixed up in a dangerous situation and it got her killed. Did she ever mention a guy by the name of Norton Cline? He's a financial advisor in town with a reputation of ripping off his clients.”

  “Never heard of him. How is he involved in my daughter's death?”

  I decided it was time to cease this conversation before I gave away too much. I probably already had.

  “Look,” Mick said, taking a step toward me and lowering his voice. “I don't know what my daughter was into but, I'm telling you, she would never break the law unless someone forced her. She was a good kid.”

  “Mick, if you refuse to speak with the cops about your daughter, could you at least give me your cell phone number where I can reach you?”

  He paused to look at me with narrowed eyes. “The cops can trace me with the built in GPS. I wasn't born yesterday.”

  “If you're so afraid of going back to jail, then why are you stealing cars?”

  “Because I can't afford to buy my own. I haven't been able to find a job since I got out.” He looked away as if embarrassed. “Truth is, I can barely afford to buy myself lunch. The short term apartment they gave me is infested with rodents, too. I'd be better off living on the street taking handouts.”

  “If you return the truck, they might not arrest you.”

  He seemed to ponder that comment. Eventually, he reached into his pocket and produced a set of keys, then tossed them to me. I caught them in mid-air.

  “The truck is parked out front. Maybe you can tell the owner not to the leave his keys in the ignition next time.”

  “Wait, you're returning the vehicle?”

  “Look, lady, I don't know who you are but I'm pretty sure you're not a cop. Otherwise, you would have arrested me already. So, exactly how are you involved in my daughter's death?”

  I reached into my purse for a business card and handed it to him.

  He inspected it with raised eyebrows. “A private detective? I wouldn't have guessed that.”

  Why does everyone seem surprised to find out I'm a private eye? “Call me if you can think of anything that might help us solve her murder.”

  “You never told me how she was murdered.”

  I tried to ignore his puppy dog eyes. “Sorry, I can't give you those details but, as her father, you have the right to go to the morgue to identify her b
ody. Just be prepared to ask some questions when you do.”

  At the sound of footsteps on tile, I looked to my left. A woman and a little boy were arguing. The boy began crying at the top of his lungs, clinging to his mother's leg. She grabbed his shirt, yanked him to his feet and scolded him while the boy made a big production of flailing his arms around, thus knocking over dozens of medicine bottles from the shelves.

  When I turned back around, Mick had vanished.

  Chapter 10

  After I explained the situation on the phone, Detective James arrived at the pharmacy ten minutes later.

  I handed him the keys to the blue pickup. “Mick Kendall doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would murder his own daughter but, he is a convicted killer so, who knows. He did admit to picking her up at her house yesterday around 4:30 but after a heated discussion, Claire demanded that he pull over and let her out near the Irving Gas Station on Islington.”

  “Good. Maybe we can find a witness who can attest to seeing her get out of the pickup. Maybe she started to walk back home and someone gave her a lift. I'll head over to the gas station just as soon as I arrange to have this truck brought to the warehouse for an overhaul. DNA, fingerprints, or blood samples might be present. Did Mr. Kendall mention where he was going when he left here?”

  “No. I tried to get him to give me his cell number, but he didn't fall for it. I gave him my card, so I expect to hear from him again.”

  Detective James got on his phone, about to make a call. “I'll catch up with you later, Sarah. I'll be by the house to get Ms. Kendall's laptop and other personal items.”

  “Sure, I'm heading back there right now.”

  “By the way,” he asked. “Just curious. Do you believe Mick Kendall's story?”

  “I don't know. He told me he was trying to make things right with his daughter. Why would he spend the past few months trying to get back into her good graces, only to end her life? Doesn't make sense.”

  In Lois's car, I immediately called Carter and explained the situation of how I came to meet Mick Kendall. “Can you meet me back at Lois's place as soon as you can?”

  “I'm already here,” he said. “I just met with the coroner who examined Norton Cline's body. We know each other so he was willing to indulge me. An autopsy was performed but the cause of death is still in question. He did take blood and tissue samples to test for drugs or poison but those results could take another few days like I suspected.”

  “I got us some lunch and I'll be back at Lois's in a few minutes. In the meantime, would you mind doing a search on Mick Kendall to find out what happened eight years ago that landed him in prison? He admitted to killing a man, but he didn't say why.”

  “Sure, I'm on it.”

  * * *

  When I got back to the house, Carter had his laptop set up at the kitchen table and Lois was sitting beside him. On the screen was a mug shot of Mick Kendall.

  The same black hair streaked with gray and the dark, penetrating eyes.

  Carter handed me a sheet of paper he'd printed out. “The local newspaper article I found from 2008 gives very few details about the murder. The victim was a twenty-two year old kid by the name of Nate Thayer.”

  “No details whatsoever?”

  “Nope. Just explains that Mick struck a deal with the DA and pled guilty to voluntary manslaughter.”

  “Is there any way you could find out who Mick's Parole Officer is?”

  Carter shrugged. “Wouldn't hurt to try.”

  “Also, Detective James needs to find a witness who can corroborate Mick's story, that he dropped her off yesterday afternoon near the Irving gas station on Islington. She might have been walking home and someone picked her up.”

  “Let's not forget our biggest clue to this whole thing,” Carter said. “Claire's murderer felt compelled to dump the body in your trunk. So, whoever this animal is, he's got his eye on you, Sarah, and I'm not comfortable with that.”

  Lois excused herself. “Sorry to be rude. I need to lay down until these Tylenol kick in.”

  “Maybe you should have some food,” I said.

  “Thanks but I'm afraid I'll throw up anything I put in my stomach. I'll be fine. You guys are welcome to stay as long as you want. And Sarah, please take my car if you need it. I won't be going anywhere.”

  After Lois disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom, Carter and I shared a wilted lettuce and turkey sandwich I bought at the pharmacy. Note to self; never buy a turkey sandwich at a pharmacy.

  “Give me your honest opinion,” I said to him. “You don't really think Claire's killer wants to do the same to me as he did to her, do you?”

  “I don't know but, if I have any control, I won't let anything happen to you. Problem is, you won't let me follow you around like a bodyguard.”

  “That's why I carry pepper spray.”

  He gave me that look. “Pepper spray won't always get you out of a tight spot.”

  I leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the lips, letting him know that I appreciated his concern about my well-being.

  “It's getting late,” he said. “Why don't we head home? Lois probably wants a little privacy anyway and you look exhausted.”

  “You're right, I am.”

  “I'll give you a little neck massage before bed.”

  I liked the sound of that. “Why don't you head back now? I want to say goodbye to Lois and make sure Peter is still coming over to spend the night.”

  “Okay. I'll see you at home very soon.”

  Chapter 11

  Five minutes after Carter left, Peter showed up with a bag of groceries. He set them down and offered me a hug. I could feel the nervous tension in his body.

  “I'm still in shock about Claire. And I can't imagine what you must be going through after you found her this morning.”

  “I'm fine,” I said. “I'm worried about your sister though; she's not been feeling well.”

  He looked around the room. “Where is she, in bed?”

  “Yeah. I didn't want to leave until you showed up.”

  He removed his jacket and said, “By the way, there's this guy sitting in his car, parked across the street. Looks like he's watching the house. Is he an undercover cop, or something?”

  A chill ran up my spine. I rushed over to the window, pushed back the curtain, and peered outside. I let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “That's my partner, Carter. He must be waiting for me to leave, to make sure I get home safely.”

  “That's the guy you just moved in with, right?”

  I chuckled. “Yep, that's him. Lois told you about him?”

  Peter ignored the question. “I guess that means you can't stay to talk.”

  “I have a few minutes.”

  Peter gestured for me to follow him into the kitchen, where he helped himself to a beer in the fridge. “Want one?”

  “No thanks.”

  He pulled out a chair for me to sit, then he moved his chair close to mine and sat down.

  I noticed the lines on his face; the stress in his life had taken it's toll. I wanted to know more about his ex-wife, but this wasn't the right time.

  “Have you spoken with anyone from the police department, yet?” I asked.

  After taking a few sips he let out a long sigh. “I'm supposed to go into the station tomorrow and talk to the detective in charge of the investigation. I hope one of our customers at the Bakery isn't a suspect.”

  “I can't confirm or deny that, but there is one customer we're looking into.” I still had the newspaper article about Norton Cline, so I showed it to him. “Lois has seen him in the bakery before. Does he look familiar to you?”

  Peter blinked in surprise. “Yeah, he's the guy who orders the sugar-free scones. Every Wednesday.” As he continued to read the article, his jaw dropped. “Holy shit, he died on Wednesday evening?”

  My stomach contracted with a mix of excitement and dread. “Tell me about these sugar-free scones he orders.”

  “Well, Cla
ire has to make a special batch every Wednesday morning. She uses some kind of sugar substitute because he's diabetic. We do special orders from time to time, for people with dietary restrictions.”

  “Were you there Wednesday when he purchased the scones?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said. “I'm the one who sold them to him.”

  “And you're sure it was Wednesday morning?”

  “I'm sure.”

  Peter seemed completely oblivious. Did he not understand what I was insinuating?

  I decided to stop with this line of questioning. If Detective James found out that I was questioning his witness, he'd insist that I stay out of the investigation.

  “Sarah?” he said, confusion in his eyes. “What is going on?”

  I decided to play dumb. “I'm just as baffled as you are.”

  Peter guzzled the rest of the beer and went to get another. “Thanks for being here for my sister. You're a good friend to her. Despite everything that's going on, I'm glad you're back in our lives.”

  It was strange being in the same room with Peter, after all these years. We were different people now but, in some ways, he seemed exactly the same. Sweet, attentive, loyal and still trying to protect his sister. I'd always loved that about him.

  “I should get going,” I said. “I'll be back tomorrow.”

  He took a step toward me and put his hand on my cheek. For a second I thought he might lean over and kiss me. Luckily, he didn't.

  He returned his hand to his side. “Just be careful. Okay?”

  I gathered my things to go. “Sure, I will. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow.”

  As I walked to my car, I waved to Carter who was still sitting in his Buick across the street. In the dark, I could see the white of his teeth as he grinned.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning I slept until nine. By the lack of sunlight coming through the bedroom window, I could tell it was dreary out.