Disorderly Conduct

by Mary Feliz

  “The sheriff’s deputies cast a wide net to track down Patrick’s killer. That’s important. Teddy, they aren’t targeting your mom. Television dramas often have us believing that they always look at the person closest to the victim. Some nincompoops from the neighborhood were going on about that the other night. But that’s not true, and it’s no way to run an investigation. Sergeant Nguyen knows that.”

  Jason polished off a glass of iced tea, and I held up a pitcher of water. He pointed toward Max’s beer bottle and raised his eyebrows. After I handed over a frosty bottle I’d pulled from the fridge, he continued. He spoke slowly but firmly, and his take-charge attitude seemed to soothe the boys, each of whom had managed a few bites of their dinner. I leaned forward with my elbows resting on the table, neglecting my own meal to hear every word Jason uttered.

  “They’ve got teams interviewing neighbors, friends, coworkers, members of his running club, parents and kids from the high school cross-country team.” David, Brian, Max, and I looked at one another, confused. No one had questioned us, though Max and I often drove kids to races and practice and Brian and David were both on the team.

  Jason cleared his throat and regained our attention. “Apparently, people from more than one of those groups informed them that Tess and Patrick were separated and that they fought all the time. At least one person said that Patrick was having an affair, and was thinking of moving out of state with his lover, taking Teddy with him.”

  I gasped and pushed my chair back, only half-aware of the protests everyone else was making. Teddy flushed and his fists clenched. Jason placed the flat of his hand on the table next to Teddy without touching him. “Look, I understand what you’re all saying. I know about Patrick’s apartment...”

  We all knew about the family’s unusual living situation. Tess and Patrick had maintained mostly separate households since early on in their marriage. But they weren’t separated. Patrick often spent weeks on end at the house, and Tess and Teddy sometimes slept at the apartment, particularly in the summer, when they could take advantage of its air-conditioning and pool. The fact of the matter was that Tess, at home, was a bit of a slob. Her home was clean but messy and cluttered. The kitchen cupboard doors were often open, there was toothpaste in the sink, and clean but unfolded laundry often covered their sofa. Empty iced tea glasses were often left out. Breakfast dishes didn’t make it from the table to the kitchen. Patrick, on the other hand, had drawn the outlines in the garage indicating where each tool should be returned after undergoing a thorough cleaning and oiling to prevent rust. He folded towels before returning them to the towel racks, sorted his dirty clothing by color, and promptly picked up anything he found on the floor and returned it to its proper location. Much of the time, the couple’s love for one another and their son could overcome the differences in their personalities and housekeeping habits, but when they found themselves overstressed by the pace of Silicon Valley living, they expressed their love by escaping to their own spaces. Patrick and Tess would be the first to pronounce the arrangement weird, but it was an experiment they claimed had saved their marriage. And no one who knew them could argue with that.

  “Tess explained that to Sergeant Nguyen, as did Stephen and I when he interviewed us. Forrest will go over that with them too.” Jason reassured us, but I still wondered who knew about the intricacies of the couple’s marriage and felt compelled to present it as a conflict between them. I wrote a note on my pad to follow up on that line of investigation. If we could discover who’d tipped off Sergeant Nguyen, we might find someone who held a grudge against Tess or Patrick. But would that lead us to a killer? Pauline Windsor, for example? I shook my head. Pauline was too self-centered. I doubted she’d leave her enormous and comfortable home in the middle of the night for anyone. Was a workplace conflict behind the murder? No one was more competitive than Tess. Could one of her colleagues think she’d muscled in on a sale they felt was rightfully theirs? Silicon Valley real estate had the highest stakes imaginable. And where money was concerned, tempers ran hot.

  “That’s garbage,” Teddy spoke through clenched teeth. “Who said that?”

  Jason shook his head and continued to explain. “Sergeant Nguyen didn’t tell me where he’d heard that stuff about your mom and dad’s relationship. And honestly, right now, I don’t think he gives it much credence. He may have arrested your mom following pressure from top brass at the county. It’s an election year.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Nguyen seems professional. He’s impressed by the number of loyal friends your family has in the community and was a little afraid that if he gave me names, he’d have a vigilante nightmare on his hands.”

  Max scoffed. “Orchard View is not the Wild West, and this isn’t the nineteenth century.”

  “Nguyen knows that,” Jason said. “The prosecuting attorney will have to turn over any evidence they have to Forrest’s team, if we get that far. Let’s wait and see what Forrest accomplished today. The summation of the evidence I already know about is that someone, probably with their own agenda, has cast doubt on Tess’s story. A pickax that could be the murder weapon was ‘hidden’” —Jason held up two fingers of each hand to make air quotes as he spoke the word— “in the shed. And Tess does not have anyone who can corroborate her whereabouts for the window of time in which Patrick might have been attacked.”

  “That makes no sense,” Teddy said. “There was plenty of time for my mom to get rid of that tool after Sergeant Nguyen left. If, that is, she even knew it existed.” He shook his head. Tess rarely had time for or interest in gardening.

  “Jason, you said Patrick might have been attacked?” I asked. “I thought the sheriff’s office confirmed it was murder?”

  Jason took a long swig of beer. “You’re too sharp. This conversation is worse than any press conference I’ve held since I became chief.” He turned toward me. “You’re right, officials have confirmed it was a homicide. What they’re not sure of is whether Patrick was attacked and later died from his injuries, or whether the blow that killed him was simultaneous with his death.”

  Jason’s face softened as he focused on Teddy. “You doin’ okay, bud? This is stuff no son ever wants to hear about their dad.”

  “You’ve already told us that people are saying my dad cheated on my mom. I know he’s dead and that someone murdered him. How can it get worse?”

  “Right,” Jason said. “But if you need a break...” He peered at the rest of us. “Or if anyone else does, say the word. This is tough stuff. Even the most hard-boiled detectives need to take time-outs. There’s no shame in that.”

  “What’s the story on when Tess is coming home?” I asked, shifting the subject away from the details of Patrick’s death to focus on a more positive topic.

  “We can’t be sure,” Jason said. “Forrest said we should be prepared to have them keep her at least overnight. Maybe forty-eight hours. But then she has to have an arraignment hearing, at which the judge will decide whether there is sufficient evidence to charge her. If he decides to go ahead, he’ll set bail or hold her over for trial without bail—”

  I interrupted. “And what are the chances of that?”

  Jason’s brow furrowed. “For her to be held without bail, you mean? Tess has no record. Forrest will argue against locking her up for the lengthy period that’s required to prepare a murder trial. That would essentially leave Teddy an orphan, which is cruel and unusual punishment for both Tess and Teddy, neither of whom has been convicted of anything. But what I think may not be the same as what a judge will decide.”

  Max leaned forward. “Forrest is good,” he said with a half shrug that gave me the impression he considered Tess as good as released already. “And if she needs help getting the bail money together, we’ll pitch in.” We all nodded so enthusiastically we resembled a line of bobbleheads, and I laughed in spite of my worries.

  “Is there anything more we can do to help?” Elaine asked. “An
ything besides looking after Teddy and each other, I mean? I know the neighborhood. Max and Maggie know the team parents—”

  Max interrupted, “I know a number of the people Patrick worked with. I’ll keep an ear to the ground in the tech sector—”

  “And we can keep an eye on social media,” David added, lifting his chin to include Brian and Teddy.

  Jason rubbed his chin, considering David’s words carefully. “I want to talk about that. Tess reminded me about that web page you saw accusing her of the murder.”

  “Can you get them to quit it?” Teddy asked.

  “Definitely, once we find out who’s behind it. I want to know what motivated them to put it up in the first place, how they heard about Patrick’s death, and where they found the photos. As dreadful as the page made Teddy and all of us feel, it may prove to be an important clue to locating someone who wanted to hurt Patrick. Can you take a look at the page again and tell me if you know where any of the images originated? Or if the words sound like something written by anyone you know? Or if they emulate language from a television show that a lot of the kids at school watch? I’m trying to determine whether setting up this web page was a bratty kid stunt, a stupid adult thing, or something more organized and sinister.”

  I watched as Brian turned to David and mouthed a name. I thought it was “Rebecca,” and I was about to question them, but then Teddy spoke, and I forgot about the website. His expression turned dark. “Wait, I thought of someone else,” he said. “Someone who seriously wished Dad would disappear.”

  Chapter 14

  How much is enough? Experts recommend stocking a three-day supply of food and essential items in your emergency evacuation kit. If you plan to shelter-in-place, they suggest stocking at least a two-week supply of essential items.

  From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald

  Simplicity Itself Organizing Services

  Monday, August 7, Evening

  Teddy had our attention, and my pen was poised to take notes. But then he hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t like to say bad things about people without proof, but this guy...” He shook his head.

  Elaine jumped in. “Teddy, it’s important to uncover the truth. If someone is responsible for your father’s death, we need to find out. And if he’s not, I’m sure he’ll still want to help the investigation in any way he can. It’s essential we tell the police our suspicions, all of them, no matter how tenuous the connections.” She spoke confidently, but turned to Jason for further confirmation.

  “Elaine’s right,” Jason said. “There’s a vast difference between tattling or gossiping and providing the police with a lead. We handle interviews with considerable delicacy.” He tsked. “Those police dramas you see on television? The ones with the table pounding and chair flinging, and throwing suspects to the ground? I’ve never done that. Speaking softly in a conversational tone and requesting help seems to work pretty well, even with the toughest crooks.”

  “Okay, well, there’s this guy,” Teddy said. “He works with my mom. She calls him her assistant, but he acts like he’s her partner...” Teddy’s voice trailed off, and he shook his head. “I don’t know why I don’t trust him. If I say that he dresses too fashionably and works long hours, he doesn’t sound so bad. But there’s something...”

  “His name?” Jason asked.

  “Robert Wu.”

  “I can reach him at your mom’s office number?”

  Teddy nodded. “Mom defended him, saying he had a savvy business sense, especially when it came to the big investors from Taiwan and mainland China. But”—he shuddered—“he seemed kinda...”

  “Smarmy?” I suggested.

  Teddy bit his lip. “What’s that? Shady? Or slimy?”

  I looked to my boys to translate. They spoke both “mom” and “teen.” Their eyes twinkled as they agreed with Teddy’s suggested synonyms.

  “My dad didn’t trust him, either. Robert needed to be the smartest dude in the room and he put my mom down. A few weeks ago, I heard her speaking to him on the phone, using her super-polite voice—the one she uses when she’s really mad.” He looked up to see if any of us knew what he meant. I certainly did. Her polite voice made me sit up straight, even when she was using it on someone else.

  “Do you know what the argument was about?” Jason asked.

  “No, but he always called at night—not late late, but later than most people think is okay. He’d want my mom to show a house or talk about this book he wanted them to write to ‘strengthen their brand,’ whatever that means. Dad thought Robert would be a lot happier if my mom was childless and unmarried.”

  “He thought Robert had personal designs on your mom?” Jason chose his words carefully, but made it clear that the answer was important.

  “Did I think he was hitting on her? Definitely.” Teddy cleared his throat and turned away from Jason.

  “Was your mom interested?”

  “Gross!” Teddy leaned back in his chair, held up his hands in a gesture that said, “That’s enough.” His face would have matched the color of a stop sign if he’d held one.

  “Sorry, but I had to ask.”

  “I get it,” Teddy said, ducking his head.

  Jason focused on the rest of us. “I’m not sure any of you understand completely. Maggie’s been tangentially involved in some murder cases before, but none of you have been this close to it. Teddy’s going to need every ounce of protection and emotional support you can muster.” Jason’s face showed pain and apprehension and convinced me he spoke from vast experience.

  “I’m fine,” Teddy said, his voice defensive.

  “Hear me out,” Jason said. “I know that you’re strong, capable, smart, coolheaded, and mature. But you don’t know what’s coming. If you thought that website was cruel, it’s nothing like the questions that will come, the things you’ll hear about your parents, and the statements otherwise well-meaning people will make in front of you. There are lots of cops who can’t work homicide—not because of the grisly scenes, but because of what the investigations do to families and entire communities. A good investigator paws through the most personal details of lives that aren’t as stable as the one you have with your family. We dredge up old hurts and forgotten wounds. I want you to know that it’s going to be bad so that you don’t feel like you’re failing somehow if you find it difficult to handle. I need you to know that I’m on your side, and so is everyone else. Call one of us before the pressure gets to be too much. I don’t care what time it is or what day it is. You call me, and I’ll answer. Got that?”

  Teddy nodded.

  “You sure? This is your most important job right now.”

  “Does that mean I can skip track practice?”

  “Nice try.” Jason’s smile reflected Teddy’s, and the teen’s shoulders relaxed. I felt mine do the same. If Teddy was comfortable enough to trade banter with Jason, he’d likely be able to ask for whatever help he needed.

  As quickly as the atmosphere lightened, however, it plummeted again. This time, it was my youngest son whose voice broke hesitantly through the laughter. “There’s someone else you should look at…” Brian began.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about the kids coming up with the first real suspects. I’d found that adolescents had a finely tuned sense of justice and were more reliable than any lie detector at smoking out an adult who was skirting the truth. Were the rest of us naïve? Inattentive? Or had we failed to consider the secrets of some of our closest neighbors?

  “His partner, Katherine.”

  “Partner, as in business?” asked Jason.

  “No. No. His running partner. She treated him like he was supposed to be her coach or something.”

  “But how do you know her?” I asked, examining David and Teddy to measure how they felt about Brian’s suggestion and whether they knew Katherine.

  David leaned forwa
rd. “Bri’s right. There was something weird about her. Like, she’d join us on team training runs, but act like we were crowding her time with Patrick.”

  “Is that normal? For adults to join student practices?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. The twenty-four-hour news cycle, being friends with law enforcement, and having kids of my own made me hyperaware of the dangers of child predators.

  Brian shrugged. “It’s not like Rancho San Antonio is private property. It’s a heavily used public park. Tons of runners train at the same time we do. They aren’t necessarily working out with us.”

  “After school? During the workday?” I heard a little too much alarm in my voice, so I leaned back in my chair, took a sip of water, and tried to dial it back. Jason saved me by jumping into the discussion.

  “Tell us more about Katherine. How did Patrick meet her?”

  “Work, maybe, or the running club?” Teddy said, referring to the Orchard View Road Runners, of which Patrick had been a founding member. It was a loosely organized group intended to provide safety and companionship for runners of varied abilities after they’d left organized scholastic sports behind. Patrick and some other members of the Stanford team had pulled the group together upon graduation. They’d picked up additional members over the years through work connections and word of mouth. Patrick and some of the other athletes competed in masters races from time to time, but it was primarily a fitness and recreational group. I saw their team jerseys frequently when I was running errands around town.

  “Women join for safety reasons,” Jason said. “They feel more secure if they’re running in groups, particularly in the more remote areas.”

  “But Katherine—” David hesitated, but continued after Brian and Teddy leaned forward to urge him along. “She always ran next to Patrick, even if he was obviously coaching someone from the team, which was, like, his job when he was with us, right? Once, he and Teddy were trying to work out some schedule conflict, and she edged herself right into the conversation.”