Mac didn’t know how to answer. “I’m betting you’ll be back in no time. I doubt there’s anything that can keep an old workhorse like you down for long.”
“I hope you’re right. Say, did you get a chance to interview Clay’s attorney?”
Mac gave him the details. Kevin listened intently then said, “Sounds like you two are doing great without me.”
“I don’t know, partner. We’re floundering here.”
“It’ll all come together. Piece by piece.” Kevin really believed that. “Just look at the cases we’ve worked. Those first few days are the hardest. Once we gather all the evidence we’ll figure it out.”
Mac smiled at the optimism. Dana would appreciate that.
“How’s Dana doing?” Kevin asked.
“Great.” Mac raised a hand to greet the subject of their conversation as she placed a bag next to the empty chair across from Mac. “She just walked up—want to talk to her?”
“That’s okay, just tell her I said hi.”
“Kevin says hi,” Mac told her.
“Hi back.” She waved and went inside to order.
“Oh, one more thing, Mac. Melissa Thomas will set up for a poly tomorrow on Mason and Rita. She can stay longer if you want anyone else in there. Hey, buddy, I gotta go; I’m getting another call. I’ll let you know when I get anything else.”
“What’s happening?” Dana slipped onto the chair and dropped a teabag into a pot of hot water.
Mac closed his phone and took a sip of his coffee before answering. “We got a subpoena for the safe-deposit box. I’m thinking we should hit the bank, then drop over to see Clay’s housekeeper. Philly and Russ talked to her briefly and got a lead on Tyler Cohen.”
“Philly and Russ found the kid?” Dana asked.
“Not yet, but they will. Philly’s like a bloodhound.”
“Did they interview Rita?” She swirled the bag and put the lid back on the hot water.
“Briefly.”
“Good. I’m glad for the opportunity to talk with her.”
“From what Kevin says, Rita is pretty shaken up about Mullins’s death and the fire.”
“I imagine. She lost her boss and her job. Did they have anything to say about the interview?”
“Just that they didn’t think she had anything to do with the fire. She’ll be taking a poly. By the way, Kev’s arranged to have Melissa Thomas come out tomorrow to run the polygraphs on Mason and Rita—Cohen if we can find him. I’d try to set up Addison, but I doubt he’ll bite.”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask.” Dana leaned back as the gal behind the counter brought her a green tortilla wrapped around something.
“Here’s your fish taco,” the woman said. “Let me know how you like it.”
Mac watched the woman walk back inside. “A fish taco? I didn’t see that on the menu.”
Dana examined it and nodded. “I know. I asked if they could put it together for me. Looks wonderful.”
Mac shrugged. “Hmm. About Addison. It’s your call. Anyway, Rita did have some information on Tyler. The kid hangs out with her son sometimes. Guess she isn’t too happy about that. Told Philly and Russ that she hopes they get the guy and put him away for good. He’s a bad influence.”
“I’ll bet.” She poured the tea into her cup. “I’m glad we’ll have a chance to talk to her.”
“Me too.” Mac grimaced at the pea-green tea in his partner’s cup. “What is that stuff?”
“Green tea. I’m really trying to take care of myself, so I’ve started to have at least one cup a day—for the antioxidants. It’s good for you.”
“If you say so.” As much as Mac wanted to start eating healthier, he wasn’t sure he wanted to follow Dana’s lead. “Green tea and green tortillas, yuck.”
“It’s actually quite good.” Dana paused to take a bite. “Do we have anything on Jacob yet?”
“Kevin is still trying to dig up more background on him. He took a couple of days off work—for his dad’s funeral and such.”
“Bet he had no idea he’d be going to his own.”
“So far no one seems to know anything about his visit to St. Helens. I find it odd that no one knew he was there.”
“Yeah, especially since he had a key to the place. Maybe someone isn’t being completely honest with us.”
“Like his sister?” Mac asked.
“Or Addison Shaw. We did find Shaw’s card in Jacob’s pocket.”
Mac waited while Dana finished off her fish taco, discarded her trash, and complimented the gal who’d made it for her. “All set?” she asked.
“I’m ready.”
Mac opened the driver side door and started to get in. Dana had pulled the seat forward, making the fit a little too tight. “Um—I thought I’d drive, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Mac hit the lever, sending the seat back into its farthest position.
Dana pulled out her notebook and scanned the pages. “Did Kevin say whether Russ and Philly asked Rita specifically about Jacob?”
“I don’t think so.” Mac backed into the street. “Best thing to do is call them. No sense duplicating things.”
“Mmm. Sure would be nice to get some idea about who might have wanted him dead.”
“Just speculating again,” Mac said, “but the sister comes to mind. With her father and brother dead, she ends up with the entire estate.”
“Follow the money, huh?”
“Darn right. Then again, maybe Jacob found something incriminating and had to be eliminated.”
“My head is swimming, Mac. Even with writing everything down I feel like we’re being bombarded on all sides.”
“I know what you mean. I’m not even sure which case we’re working on. We’re still trying to figure out what happened to Clay and all of a sudden we have a break-in, a fire, and a murder victim.”
“Not to mention the acting chief of police releasing the train car and sending our security officer on a bogus call the night Clay’s place was torched. I’m still steamed about that.”
Mac agreed. “Yeah, but I doubt the guy has anything to do with our case. He’s playing politics with the big guys at the terminal. You know, it’s ‘you pat my back, and I’ll pat yours.’ ”
Mac pulled up in front of the U.S. bank. “Kevin says the district attorney has already issued subpoenas for Clay’s safe-deposit box in St. Helens and his post office box. Darren was supposed to have faxed the subpoena to the bank manager, who’s promised to release the property as soon as we get there.”
“Great.” Dana opened the car door. “Let’s go in and take a look.”
Mac stopped at the door. “Care to make a wager? I’ll bet the manager won’t know what we’re talking about.”
Dana chuckled. “What kind of wager?”
“Coffee for a week.”
“Make it a month.”
“Okay.”
“You’re on,Mr. Negativity. I’ll bet everything is in order.”
They pushed through the heavy glass doors and walked over to the only human in sight: a redhead wearing a colorful, gauzy tent dress. The woman looked ethnic and beautiful.
She stood when Mac approached. “I’m Ginger Stern, the branch manager. Are you from the district attorney’s office?”
“Actually we are with the State Police. I’m Detective McAllister, and this is Detective Bennett.”
“Right.” The heavyset woman offered her hand to Mac, then to Dana. “Please have a seat. She motioned toward the two chairs in front of her desk.
Mac made no move to sit. He glanced at Dana, who was by now giving him a “ha-ha-I-win” look. “We were told the required subpoena was faxed over so we could view and seize the effects of the late Clayton Mullins.”
“Yes, I received the fax,” Ginger said. “I apologize for the legal loopholes, but it is bank policy to protect the privacy of our clients. Now, did you say seize? I was told you would only be reviewing the contents.”
“T
hat may be the case, but we won’t know until we take a look. Don’t worry; I’ll supply an itemized receipt for any items we remove from the box. The contents will eventually be turned over to Mr. Mullins’s only living heir, a daughter who lives in Washington County.”
“That will be fine. I must admit I’ve never had this kind of request before. We don’t get much excitement in the banking business.” Giving them an amicable smile, she led Dana and Mac through a locked door into a large security room. Pulling two keys from her pocket, Ginger unlocked the safe-deposit box gate door and pulled the large metal box from the sleeve. “Do you want a private viewing room?”
“No thanks,” Dana answered. “The table will be fine.”
Ginger placed the large metal box on the small table in the middle of the room and placed the keys back in her pocket. “I’ll leave you two to your business. Just let me know when you’re done or if you need anything.”
“Great, thank you so much.” As soon as the door closed, Dana punched the air with one fist then the other as she danced in a circle. “I won, I won! Coffee for a month. Does my heart good, Mac.”
“Humph, you don’t have to be so happy about it.” Mac opened the steel lid to the safe-deposit box and pulled out the contents, the bulk of which were old black-and-white photographs and some letters.
“They must be of his wife and kids.” Dana flipped through the photos. “They were a pretty handsome couple in their day.”
Mac glanced at a wedding photo bearing the date 1943.
“Oh, I bet this was her wedding band.” Dana held up a slim gold band that was well worn on one side.
“Take a look at this,” Dana said, peering into a thick envelope bearing the logo and address for Addison Shaw, Attorney at Law. “Looks like a copy of Clay’s will.”
“Is it an original or just a copy?”
She pulled out the document and flipped through the pages. “A copy. Look, there are no signatures on the lines at the end where he and Addison Shaw have spots to sign. It’s not notarized either.”
“Read it over. Where does it have all his assets going? Does everything go to the kids like Shaw told us?”
“Yeah. Kelly and Jacob get most of it—well, now it’s just Kelly.
Rita gets fifty thousand dollars.”
“That’s not small change. People have killed for less.”
“Looks like Kelly inherits everything else. Didn’t Shaw say something about a charity?” Dana frowned. “Oh, here it is. Five thousand dollars to his church.”
Dana pulled out a thick envelope with an insurance company logo on it. “Looks like his insurance contract.” Perusing it, Mac said, “Nothing surprising here. Kelly is the beneficiary.”
“Here’s something else.” Mac drew papers out of a larger manila envelope. “Looks like a letter and some blueprints.”
Dana leaned in closer and read aloud. “To whom it may concern.Enclosed are plans for the new railroad museum and interpretive center.I, Clay Mullins, require the terms be met prior to title and deed transferof my lands and holdings to the City of St. Helens, Terminal 9, and theColumbia County Historical Society . . .”
“Terms, what terms?” Mac flipped to the next page.
“Mason was right. Looks like Clay had plans for all that railroad stuff of his,” Dana murmured. “What a shame. He died before he could build the museum, and now with his home gone and so much of his memorabilia lost it will probably never happen.”
“According to this document, Clay was planning to spend the bulk of his fortune.”
Dana scanned the two documents again. “If he had lived to implement this, Kelly and Jacob wouldn’t have gotten squat.”
Mac whistled. “I think we just found a motive for murder.”
“What’s the date of the papers where he talks about the museum?” Dana asked.
Mac shook his head. “No date. Looks like he might not have finished it.”
“Hmm.” Dana’s eyes narrowed. “I wonder if Addison Shaw knows anything about this.”
“If he’s responsible for the estate, how could he not know? Clay must have told him about these plans.”
“Maybe he did know,” Dana said. “That doesn’t implicate him.”
“True. And if he knew, he’s sure not about to tell us. We’ll have to get a warrant to search his office for a revised will. In the meantime, we’d better document all this. Did you bring in an evidence form?”
“Got one right here.” Dana pulled the form from her leather binder and set about itemizing the list of documents and personal effects. Once they’d finished, Dana gave Ginger a copy of the evidence sheet, so she could make a duplicate copy.
“Did you find anything interesting?” Ginger asked. “I suppose it’s none of my business, really. It’s just that I’m going to miss the old guy. He’d come riding into town on that scooter of his about once a week, and almost always he’d stop by the bank to make a deposit or withdrawal or to check on his box.”
“That often?” Dana said.
“He was lonely, you know. Missed his wife something awful. At least now they’re together in heaven. I think he used the box as an excuse to visit too.” She smiled. “Clay was quite a character, you know.”
“How so?” Mac asked.
“Oh, he was such a tease, kept asking me when we were going to run away together.” The woman’s round shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “Of course we never would, but it was fun making plans.” Her eyes filled with tears. “We’re going to miss him.”
Mac nodded. “Thanks for all your help, Ms. Stern.”
“Oh, please. Call me Ginger.”
“Ginger.” Mac shook her hand. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Oh, Detectives,” she called after them. “I meant to tell you something. I don’t know if this has any bearing on your case, but— well, it’s about Clay’s son.”
Mac stopped in his tracks. “You have information about Jacob?”
“Well, like I said, it’s probably nothing, but Jacob was in here the day after the accident wanting to get into his father’s safe-deposit box. I told him there was no way we could do that unless he had paperwork giving him access—like a will or something. He wasn’t too happy.”
“Did he say what he wanted or why?”
“I got the feeling he was looking for something. I heard him mumbling something about it maybe being at the house.”
“Anything else?” Dana asked.
“No, nothing. I’m sorry. He left and the next thing I heard, the house had burned down.” She frowned. “You don’t suppose he started that fire, do you?”
“Hard to say, ma’am.” Mac didn’t tell her that Jacob had been murdered or that it had been his body in the fire. While they’d given the media an ID, they hadn’t released the specifics on his death. “But thanks for the information. We’ll definitely get back to you.”
TWENTY-TWO
THE TWO DETECTIVES STARTED FOR THE D.A.’S OFFICE, and phoned Sergeant Evans to bring him up to speed on their recent developments.
“Interesting,” Frank said. “We may have enough to obtain a search warrant to go over Shaw’s files and computers. I’ll talk to Volk while you two hustle over and interview Rita Gonzales. Find out if Jacob had any contact with his father prior to their deaths. Meet me at the DA’s office when you’re done.”
“Will do.”
“We’ll do what?” Dana asked.
“Meet Sarge at the D.A.’s office after we interview the housekeeper.”
“Why is he coming?” Dana asked. “We’re handling things okay, aren’t we?”
“You mean there’s something you don’t know?” Mac chuckled.
Dana frowned. “That’s a backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist. Seems like you’re always on top of things. Anyway, department policy requires that a supervisor be present when officers are serving a search warrant.”
“I knew that.” Her lower lip jutted ou
t in a pout. “I just forgot.”
“Sarge will squeeze the warrant out of Volk—hopefully we have enough for one. In the meantime he wants us to talk to Rita Gonzales.”
RITA LIVED IN ANICELY KEPT OLDER HOME on the west side, settled among several acres of rolling hills. Dana had called en route, and Rita quickly answered the doorbell and invited them in. She’d obviously been crying and made no apologies. Speaking with an Hispanic accent, she began talking about her boss in glowing terms. “I cannot believe Mr. Mullins is dead. Such a good man. He always give me more than he owes. Tells me all housekeepers should get tips.” She smiled. “He was a generous man to everybody—to the paper boy and to the mail carrier.”
“Mrs. Gonzales, did you ever meet Clay’s son?” Mac asked.
She frowned and shook her head. “No. Only the daughter. Kelly was so kind to him. Came once every week or two. She’d bring his medication and things he needed from Costco or some of the other big stores in town. No son. His son never came. Not while I was there.”
“You’re sure?” Her answer fit with what Kelly had said.
“Oh, yes. There were pictures in his house of a young man, and when I first began working for him, I asked who it was. Mr. Mullins grew very sad and told me his son went away and never came back.”
“Did Clay ever talk to you about his will?” Mac met her gaze, and she looked away.
“No . . .” She slowly moved her head from side to side.
“You don’t seem certain.”
“Mr. Mullins would say things sometimes.”
“Like what?”
“ ‘Someday, Rita,’ he tell me, ‘someday this will be a museum. And all this land will be a park.’ ”
“Did he mention how that would happen?”
“No. I didn’t know how that would happen. Maybe you should talk to Mr. Shaw. He was Mr. Mullins’s lawyer, and they talked sometimes.”
“Did you ever hear Clay tell Shaw about his plans?”
“No. Mr. Shaw never came when I was there.”
“When was the last time you were at the house?”
“Three days before Mr. Mullins died. I came in two times a week and sometimes a little more if he needed me there.”
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