by Liliana Hart
“He knew all about her relationship with Richard. He’d had a camera installed one afternoon while she was at work when he started suspecting. He even knew they were using the vacant house at the end of the street from time to time. He’s planning on divorcing her, but he wants to finish school first. He’s only got one more semester.”
Carver made the hashtag sign with his fingers. “Hashtag marriage goals,” he said. “Would he have a reason to kill a little old lady and stage a suicide?”
Jack shook his head. “Nope. Like I said, he’s a non-issue.
“Take it back to the core,” Carver said. “Who benefits? Money is usually the motivating factor when someone wealthy dies.” And then a picture came up on screen that definitely wasn’t a cat.
“Yikes,” I said.
“Or there’s that…” Jack said. “That’s definitely a good reason for murder.”
In the archives of the website were several photographs that obviously hadn’t been published. At least not yet.
“I think it’s time to have a neighborhood crime watch meeting,” Jack said. He looked at his watch. “And I think the earlier tomorrow the better.”
“I don’t know what you have planned,” I said. “But I can almost guarantee you that it’s going to piss off some people.”
Jack smiled. “That’s just a side benefit.”
Dawn arrived much too early the next morning. Especially since we’d stayed up too late the night before. But I could feel the anticipation pumping through my blood.
Nash and Cheek had been on duty the night before, and Jack had asked them to go door to door, telling each household that there was a mandatory meeting for the adults the next morning to discuss ways to keep the neighborhood safe in light of the two murders that had occurred that week.
I could tell there was something stewing in Jack’s mind. He was good at extrapolating data and putting the puzzle pieces together until everything fit perfectly. Which was why I knew he’d already thought of something that had been plaguing me. My father had been just as much a part of the neighborhood the last weeks as anyone, though a silent neighbor. And if Mrs. McGowen had discovered that he’d been living there, or was alive at all, it would have been primo news to feed to her readers. And Malachi would’ve done whatever it took to stop her. His only saving grace at the moment was that everyone still thought he was dead.
But there were others on Foxglove Court that had more to lose than Malachi Graves. It was hard for a man to lose something when he’d already lost everything.
Jack had asked Martinez, Chen, Nash, and Cheek to be at the meeting, everyone wearing soft clothes instead of their uniforms. He wanted a non-threatening environment where everyone felt comfortable. That’s what he was counting on. A comfortable killer was arrogant. And arrogance led to mistakes.
I was the silent type in the mornings. I did this mostly because my brain wasn’t functioning well enough to form complete thoughts. At least not until I’d had a couple of cups of coffee, and even then it was sketchy. Jack, on the other hand, had something to say from the time his eyes opened in the morning. I had no idea what happened during the hours that he slept that could fill him with that many conversation topics, but I could only assume he had a much different sleeping experience than I did.
When Jack’s alarm went off, I snuggled a little closer to him. He pulled me in, his chin tucked into my neck, and he held me until the second alarm went off.
“I miss our honeymoon,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “We need to take a weekend soon. Just a couple of days, and get out of Bloody Mary. It’s too easy to work seven days a week when we’re here. I miss the days of laying on the beach for hours and just being lazy.”
“You miss having sex morning, noon, and night,” I said, squeezing his butt.
“You’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t run for reelection after all. We don’t need the money. And then I could retire and have sex with you whenever I want.”
“And what would you do with the other twenty-one hours of the day?”
“Think about having sex with you.”
I snorted out a laugh and we wrestled around for a bit. I was thinking we might have time to squeeze in an early morning bout when the alarm went off again.
“We don’t have enough time,” Jack said, reading my mind. “But I’d love a rain check for this afternoon.”
“As long as nobody else dies, I’m yours,” I said, rolling out of bed.
“I wonder how many husbands get to hear their wives say that,” he called after me as I headed into the bathroom.
Vaughn had left the night before after midnight. The time spent together had done us all good, and I knew it was good for Vaughn. He was still feeling his way in the world, getting used to be alone again, and there was a desperation in him that wanted to cling to the time he spent with those he cared about. I was glad to be part of that select group.
After Carver had heard the plan about the neighborhood meeting, he’d told us to make sure we didn’t wake him up leaving the house. He hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep since he’d gotten married, and he had no intention of getting up early unless the house was on fire.
“I don’t suppose you want to clue me in on what you’re hoping to accomplish with this meeting,” I said after we’d left the house and were making our way through town. “I saw the same pictures you did. Why not just bring her into the station and interview her there?”
“Because there are too many loose ends. And I’m hoping putting her on the spot will bring it all to the surface.”
It felt like it took forever to get to Foxglove Court. Martinez and Nash had each parked their units in front of Mrs. McGowen’s house. It was central to the street and everyone would see them there.
Jack parked his unit in front of the vacant house, and then we walked to Tom and Lynette Miller’s house at the center of the cul-de-sac. It seemed fitting that this was where the meeting should be, considering it was where they gathered on a monthly basis. I wondered if they’d feel the loss of the two people who were lying dead in my lab.
I could hear the murmur of conversation from the back yard, and I assumed that’s where everyone had naturally congregated, so we walked around the side of the house and through the iron gate.
It wasn’t hard to spot the cops in the group. They stood in together, apart from the others, having their own conversation and drinking the coffee that had been provided by the Millers. There was a table with carafes of coffee and juice, and someone had baked cinnamon rolls that smelled like pure sin.
Katie, and who I assumed was her husband Jeremy, and Robert Planter all sat on a lounger together, eating breakfast and talking softly. Robert looked terrible. Like he hadn’t slept since he’d found his husband’s body. Katie looked uncomfortable and kept shifting the weight of her belly.
The Millers sat at one of the round tables with the umbrellas, and Harrison and JoAnn Taylor sat with them. JoAnn had a mimosa in her hand and was looking off into the distant, pleasantly buzzed, while her husband talked obnoxiously next to her. Janet and Richard sat in two folding chairs. They were sitting together, but there was a lot of space between them. They didn’t even look at each other as they talked to those around them.
Monica sat on one of the loungers alone, and Keith chose to stand rather than sit beside his wife. They didn’t talk to each other or anyone else. The Greens and Davis’s sat on the two wicker loveseats, talking quietly to each other. And Abby Clearwater sat as far away from Harrison Taylor as she could possibly get, which meant she was stuck sitting with Fred and Edna Bright.
It was right at eight o’clock in the morning and already the sun was shining bright. There were no clouds, and by the middle of the day there would be no backyard shade.
Everyone was dressed casually for a Saturday morning, and it was obvious by Harrison and Tom’s attire that they were planning to spend the day at the golf course. Jack and I had both opted for jeans. He’d picked a black t-shirt and h
is Docksiders, and I picked a three-quarter length baseball style shirt that said Last Responder on it. Jack had gotten it for me for Christmas and I loved it. And I found it oddly appropriate for this moment in time.
The conversation stopped as we got closer, and all eyes went to Jack. He had that presence about him that easily commanded others. Harrison barely spared me a glance before turning his smirk to Jack. The bastard.
“I appreciate everyone meeting us here this morning,” Jack said, taking a position of authority in front of the group. “Under the circumstances, it seemed it was best to speak to all of you at once. Especially since Carl Planter was murdered.”
The gasps were audible and everyone started talking at once. But Harrison Taylor was the loudest. He got to his feet, his Bloody Mary still in his hand.
“That’s uncalled for, Lawson.” His chest was puffed up and he spoke with as much authority as he could muster, similar to what I imagined he used in the courtroom. “I don’t know why you’re showboating, but if this is how you’re going to handle things I feel it’s my duty to act as representative for the group.”
“Does the group have a reason to need a representative?” Jack asked. “I’d think everyone, you included, would be more worried about the fact that two murders have taken place on this street within a week. Haven’t you wondered who could do such a thing? How someone could get so close without anyone seeing them? I’d think you’d be terrified it could happen to you.”
Several people in the group nodded their heads.
“You’d think the police would be able to stop it,” Harrison said. “This is supposed to be a safe community. But I think your office is more concerned with harassing innocent people than protecting the neighborhoods.”
“Unfortunately, you can never predict when evil strikes. And that’s all this was. Pure evil. You can sit down, Harrison. You’re not running for reelection right now.”
Harrison blustered, wanting to argue, but Jack turned his attention back to the group. I saw JoAnn tug at his hand and finally get him to sit down.
“Two people on this street were murdered. Two people who were well liked and loved. They died on a street full of people who watch out for each other and notice every strange car and delivery van that comes along. How did this happen? It’s really an incredible act if you think about it.”
“I don’t understand,” Robert said. “Carl was murdered? Why didn’t anyone tell me? All this time I thought he’d taken his life, and I was wracking my brain, trying to figure out why.” He choked on a sob, and covered his mouth with his hand, and I could see the anger brewing in his eyes.
Katie rubbed his back and shot us disapproving looks. She was a cop’s kid, but she wasn’t a cop.
“It didn’t make sense,” Jack said, “when we started putting all the pieces together. But when you get enough witnesses and enough stories, the real truth starts to come out.”
“What are you saying?” Tom Miller asked. “Are you saying you think one of us killed Rosie and Carl?”
Jack nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think. We’ll work our way backwards and start with Carl, since he’s fresh on everyone’s mind. Carl was given an injection of ketamine. You’re familiar with that, Harrison, being the DA. Also known as Special K on the street. We found the syringe and vial in the trash can. Which is very convenient if you think about it. All of the vials are labeled with a serial number, and any time a doctor uses a narcotic they have to file it with the DEA. Considering there’s only one doctor on the Foxglove Court, we weren’t terribly surprised to discover that the vial came from Richard Selby’s clinic.”
Richard came to his feet in outrage. “What the hell are you talking about? I have every narcotic under lock and key, and I account for everything. My reputation is above reproach.”
I watched the faces of the others, seeing a gamut of emotions as he made his impassioned speech. But some weren’t as good of actors as others.
“I’m not calling your reputation into question,” Jack said, taking the wind out of Richard’s sails. “But there’s no mistake the vial is registered to your prescription number. So it makes you think, who else had access to your locked up narcotics? It’s not only who had access, but who has a dice in this game? He has something to lose? Or gain?”
Everyone started looking around, and gazes finally settled on Janet Selby.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “I thought we were coming here to learn how to protect ourselves. Not to be accused of murder. Richard is the only one who has a key to his narcotics closet. Not even his assistants have it. Who else could it have been but him?”
“Thanks, Janet,” Richard said. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. I didn’t realize my wife was going to throw me under the bus.”
“Throw you under the bus?” she asked. “What do you know about being thrown under the bus?” Her face turned cold and haughty, and I realized at that moment that she knew every detail of what her husband had been engaged in. And she was pissed.
“Maybe Carl was killed because of what he knew,” she said, glaring daggers at her husband. “Maybe he’s got as good of a view from the front of his house as I have from my office window. Maybe he got more than an eyeful. Maybe he wondered how anyone could compete with a blonde half his age? Or maybe he decided to get revenge and see how green the grass in someone else’s pasture.”
Richard went pale and Janet was shaking with so much rage I was glad she wasn’t armed.
“What are you saying?” Richard asked. “Did you have an affair?”
“If you guys don’t mind settling your domestic dispute a little later,” Jack said, interrupting.
I wondered what he was playing at. Jack was normally very compassionate in the way he dealt with people. But he wasn’t sparing anyone any mercy, and I realized even though he was calm and matter of fact on the outside, he was seething on the inside. Jack hated being lied to. And he hated it even more when people thought they could get away with the crime.
“And I appreciate the outrage,” Jack continued, “but I’d like to see a show of hands of anyone who didn’t know that Richard and Monica were having an affair.”
Only one hand went up. It belonged to Katie’s husband, Jeremy. “Sorry,” she told him. “I thought I told you.”
“It wasn’t exactly the best kept secret, Richard. Of course your wife was going to find out. But you found another way to get revenge, didn’t you, Janet?” Jack asked. “Trying to frame your husband for murder certainly upped the ante.”
“That’s insane,” she said, glaring daggers at Jack.
“Really? Because I’m willing to bet when Detective Martinez serves you with the warrant we obtained this morning that we’re going to find that long sleeve shirt you were wearing yesterday in the dirty clothes. You washed the gun powder residue when you helped Carl pull the trigger off your hands before you we could test you. But I bet you didn’t think to wash it out of your clothes.”
Reality started to sink in, and for the first time I could see the panic in her eyes before she stiffened her resolve. She shrugged and tried to bluff her way out of it. “You’re just guessing. And while I appreciate the drama, I know you don’t have much to go on. I heard you admit as much to one of your officers yesterday. No murder weapon. No computer. No suspects.”
Jack smiled and it shriveled her cockiness. “And then there’s the note,” Jack said, continuing. “When you left Carl’s suicide note, confessing to the murder of Rosalyn McGowen, it wrapped things up nice and tidy. You deflected Rosalyn McGowen’s murder onto someone else, and you managed to frame your husband for murder at the same time with the ketamine. You put the syringe and vial in the simplest of places to find.”
Jack took a dramatic pause and looked at all the faces. “The only reason you’d need someone else to take the heat for Rosalyn McGowen’s murder, is if you were her murderer.”
Janet chuckled appreciatively. “I appreciate the fact that you watch a lot of CSI, Sh
eriff, but as I’ve already told you, and others have confirmed, I have an alibi for the time Roz was killed. In my experience, it’s impossible to be two places at one time.”
“Not when you’re lying,” Jack said. “But I’m glad you brought that up. Because that’s where things get really interesting. It worked out perfectly that you, Robert, and Abby were able to alibi each other that morning. The problem with that is I went back to read Abby’s statement she gave to Detective Martinez and Officer Chen. She ran the first mile with you, but she’s training for a half marathon, so she decided to keep going another ten miles since she didn’t have to worry about Harrison bothering her.”
“I object to that,” Harrison said. “I’ve never bothered that woman in my life.”
“Give it a rest, Harrison,” Abby said, speaking up. “Everyone on this street knows you’re a perv. Just like everyone knew about Richard and Monica.”
“So when Abby split off that left Robert and Janet to alibi each other,” Jack said. “That makes it easy since the two of you came back early and climbed through Rosalyn McGowen’s open window. All you wanted was the computer, right? If you could get the evidence she had on you then there wouldn’t be anything to worry about.”
There were still no answers from Janet or Robert, but the others had caught on. You could see them starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
“How did you find out who Rosalyn McGowen really was?” Jack asked.
“Why are you doing this, Jack?” Robert pleaded. “I could never hurt anyone. Especially Carl. I loved him. He was my husband.”
“He also wouldn’t have been too happy to find out you’d been cheating on him,” Jack said. “Would he have divorced you? Because that would’ve messed up your apple cart. You’re living the life. Working from home part-time and playing the rest of the time. Joining social clubs and spending money you’re not earning, while having a piece on the side. It would’ve worked out well for both of you with Carl dead. You’d inherit everything, and Janet would get the commission as the listing agent for Rosalyn’s house. But the house only went to Carl if he was alive. In the event of his death it would revert back to the estate. You weren’t counting on that one, were you?”
