Keeping Secrets

by L A Dobbs

  According to Charlie, Brian was at home, so they trudged up to the second floor and knocked on the door. Harry took the lead, pushing his way to the front, and Sam shot an amused look at Jo and shrugged. She knew what he was thinking--why not let the old guy have some fun.

  Brian answered the door, gave Harry a confused look, and then saw Sam and Jo standing behind him. "Is there some news about my dad?"

  Sam didn't think he looked guilty of trying to hide anything. He seemed genuinely concerned about his dad's case, but if that was true, why was he lying about where he'd been that night?

  Sam's eyes drifted into the inside of the apartment. It was messy. An open pizza box on the table. Clothes strewn about. It smelled of dirty socks and stale food. Didn't Brian have a wife?

  "May we come in?" Harry asked. "Is your wife home?" Apparently, Harry was thinking on the same lines as Sam.

  Brian stepped back and opened the door. "My wife and I split up. That's why I'm living in the apartment. Who are you?"

  Harry held out his hand. "Harry Woolston. Chief of police."

  Brian frowned and looked at Sam.

  "Ex-chief of police," Sam said. "Harry's helping us out."

  "Okay. So what brings you guys here? I was just on my way to Mom's," Brian said.

  "I think you might know why we're here," Sam said. "Do you know something about what happened to your dad?"

  Brian's eyes darted around the room. "What do you mean? I told you I don't know anything."

  "Really? Then why did you lie about being home the night he died?"

  "I was home. Who said I wasn't?"

  "Your landlord said you went out on your bike that night. You were gone for two hours. Long enough for you to cycle up to the cabin and back," Sam said. "Is that what you did?"

  Brian sighed and sank into the sofa. "No. That's not where I was. But I did go out on my bike."

  "Where did you go, and why on the bike?"

  "I took my bike because I don't have a car. I got a DWI over in Pittsfield, and my license was yanked. But my family doesn't know. I didn't want to tell them and worry my mom. She's going through so much already. And my sister has everything on her shoulders, so I didn't want to add to that. I wasn't lying because I was at the cabin. I was lying because I was in an AA meeting mandated because of the drunk driving charge. I had to take my bike because I lost my license." Brian looked up at Sam. "You can check with my sponsor."

  Sam frowned. It could easily be checked, and Brian seemed sincere, but something didn't add up. "Really? Then why did your sister say she saw you moving around in here? Does someone else live here?"

  Brian shrugged. "No one else was here, so I have no idea why she said that. I was just as surprised as you are. But I just kind of went with it so I wouldn't have to explain where I was. I figured maybe she got the night wrong or something. She's been really stressed out about Mom and running herself ragged to help out."

  "She seemed pretty certain about the night she saw you."

  Brian sighed again. "I don't know--she's my big sister and has always tried to protect me since we were little kids." He glanced at his phone on the table. "She's even trying to protect me with Mom's condition. Sugarcoating how bad it is, but asking me to come soon. I know why. Mom's getting a lot worse. And maybe she knew I was lying and wanted to corroborate my story? I'm sure she had good reason."

  Sam looked at Jo. Maybe Melody hadn't lied to protect Brian--maybe she'd lied to protect herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  As they left Brian's, Harry's phone blared with a loud foghorn sound, and he dug it out of his pocket. "Yes, Mable. Right away, dear. I'll be right home." He looked at Sam and Jo sheepishly. "Happy wife, happy life. Dang it! I'm gonna miss out on the interrogation of the sister. Can you drop me at the station? Do you need me to write down some questions for you to ask her, Sammy?"

  "Thanks, I'm all set," Sam said.

  They dropped Harry off and headed to Melody's. Her house was a neat little Cape in one of the newer sections of town. It had been built about ten years ago and was nicely kept up with a freshly mowed lawn, flowers, and neatly trimmed shrubs. Melody answered the door, the strain of her mother's illness evident in the tight set of her jaw. Or was it the strain of lying about her father?

  "Is it about Dad?" She stepped back to let them in then led them toward the kitchen. "I've been at Mom's all morning and just came home for the break. She's fading fast."

  Melody looked close to tears, and Sam felt bad that he was about to accuse her of killing her father. He didn't want to tell her Brian's secret, didn't feel right about being the one to let that out. He also wanted to play dumb so he could test the waters and see if she would still lie even if she knew she had been caught in it.

  "I'm sorry to hear that. This won't take long. We have just a few things we want to tighten up in relation to your father."

  "Okay. I really want to help you find out what happened. I still can't believe someone would kill him. Are you sure about that?"

  "We can't rule it out," Sam said. "But there seems to be some kind of a question about the night he died. Are you sure you saw your brother at his place?"

  Melody stiffened and turned away, busying herself with the teapot. "Coffee or tea?"

  "No. We're good," Jo said. "Are you sure you saw your brother that night? We know you've been under a lot of strain, and you might've gotten the nights confused with everything that's going on."

  Melody chewed her bottom lip. "If Brian said he was home, then he was home. I'm sure it was that night because I refilled Mom's prescription for her." Her brows knit together. "Or was it the night before when Mom wasn't home... she rarely goes out anymore and doesn't really have the energy to go in and out of the stores. Why are you asking?"

  "We were just trying to verify where everyone was," Sam said.

  "Well, I hope you don't think Brian was involved. He's just going through a rough patch right now."

  "Honey, I put your bike away on the racks in the--" A man appeared in the doorway and stopped. "Oh, I didn't realize anyone was here."

  "This is my husband, Joel," Melody introduced them. "They were just asking some questions about Dad's case." She turned back to Sam and Jo. "Anyway. I know Brian needs money. His wife left him, and he's gotten into a little bit of a mess, but he's a good guy."

  "Maybe if your dad wasn't so tight with the money, Brian wouldn't be having any troubles," Joel said.

  Melody turned on Joel. "That's not quite fair. Dad isn't a cheapskate. He just thought Brian should have to work things out for himself. Besides, Dad had his own problems."

  "What do you mean?" Sam asked. Did Melody know about Tommy? But why would Tommy be a problem? Maybe she did know about the DNA test and thought Tommy was a problem for her father.

  "Oh, well, just that there was a lot of stuff with Mom's medical treatments and doctor's appointments. You know insurance doesn't cover everything, and I've had to sort out the bills for them. Mom and Dad aren't getting any younger and can't handle all that." She glanced at the clock. "Really, I should go back. I don't like to leave my mother at all, and Brian was gonna meet me there. She was barely lucid when I left. The hospice nurse said there might not be much time, and I'd never forgive myself if I wasn't there when..."

  Sam's heart pinched. This wasn't the time to be grilling Melody about her father's death, no matter what his suspicions were. The least he could do was let her tend to her mother's deathbed in peace.

  "Of course." Sam started to the front door. "We'll be in touch if we have anything new."

  "It's a tough position," Jo said when they were back in the car. "Emotions are running high in that family, and it doesn't seem right to be accusing them when their mom is so sick."

  Sam nodded. "You're right. We need to back off and let them take care of their mother. In the meantime, maybe we can reconstruct Mike's last day and check Brian's alibi for that night. Maybe we're barking up the wrong tree and no one in his family had anything to
do with it. Maybe it really did have to do with Thorne," Sam said.

  "But there's one thing that's bothered me. Mike was killed with his own gun. Only Margie, Mike, and the kids would have access to it and know the code to the lockbox. Now, we've assumed that Mike took it with him because he knew there would be trouble. But one of the kids could have brought it and killed him, hoping it would look like a suicide. They'd know he was depressed. Maybe Mike didn't bring the gun because he was expecting trouble with Thorne."

  "Thorne was obviously interested in their land, but it doesn't add up. Why would he be paying Mike money and then kill him?" Jo asked.

  "That brings up a good question. If the money wasn't from Thorne, where was it from?"

  "Maybe he was selling something off? Or maybe he borrowed the money, knowing that he'd get something from Margie's life insurance," Jo said.

  "I had Reese check into those life insurances, and there wasn't very much. The money was all in the value of the land that the farm is on." Sam's eyes narrowed as he turned down Main Street to the police station. "You might be on to something with him selling something off. At the Donnelly house, there was a china cabinet that was full of flow blue china. My grandma has some of that, and I know it can be worth a lot of money. And it seemed to me there were some empty spots in the Donnelly china cabinet."

  Sam was really good at noticing details about various crime scenes. Jo didn't doubt he was right and his instincts were spot on about the china being missing. "But that doesn't really help us. If he was selling stuff off to give Tommy money, he was being sneaky about it so that the family wouldn't notice."

  "Unless someone in the family did notice." Sam glanced over at her. "What if either Brian or Melody knew Mike was selling things off? What if they figured out he was up to something? What if they knew how the will was worded and realized that Mike had to die before Margie in order for them to be the only beneficiaries of the inheritance?"

  "That's a great theory, but we need concrete evidence. Even if it was one of them, we're not about to go in and arrest them on Margie's deathbed," Jo said. "Maybe this would be a good time to slip in some footwork on Tyler's case." Jo tapped her finger against her mug. She thought it was a little strange that Sam hadn't mentioned much about Tyler's case since she'd found out about the twenty thousand, but maybe it was because they were busy working on Mike's.

  Sam pulled into the parking spot in front of the police station. "We have to be careful about Tyler's case now, remember? Kevin mentioning the safety deposit box kinda spooked me."

  Jo sensed him hesitate as he opened the car door. She got the impression that the post office box incident wasn't the only reason. Which was weird because Jo and Sam usually told each other everything... or so she thought.

  But now, she had the distinct impression he was holding something back. Why did that feel like a betrayal?

  Sam didn't owe her explanations for anything. They were colleagues, nothing more, and she knew from her own experience it was human nature for people to keep secrets from one another.

  She hopped out and followed him into the police station. If Sam had something he wanted her to know, he'd tell her when he was ready.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  In the station lobby, Reese was busy handing out yard sale permits to two old ladies. The women were perpetual yard salers—people that had yard sales all the time, practically making a business out of it. They'd pick things up at one sale then raise the price and put it in their own sale. He'd mentioned the limits on yard sales to them before.

  He gave them a pointed glance, and one of them piped up. "This is only the third yard sale this year, and we're allowed five."

  Sam tipped his head toward him. "That's right, ma'am. Make sure you don't overdo it."

  He could see by the board that Kevin was out on a call. He felt bad that Kevin got all the minor calls, and he knew it bothered Kevin, but the truth was that Sam and Jo were the senior officers. Once they hired the new person, maybe he would let Kevin come on a few of the more interesting calls. Thoughts of the new hire made him anxious. He really should get going on interviewing. Maybe he would bring that last candidate back in and see what Jo thought of him.

  Sam headed to the K-Cup machine and put a little orange-lidded container into the top then slid his dark-blue mug under the spout.

  He could hear Jo in the corner, tapping her pencil on her desk, and his heart twisted. He knew Jo had sensed he wasn't telling her everything, and he hated that. But he couldn't tell her how he suspected Dupont knew what had happened twenty years ago. It wasn't something he was proud of, and besides, Mick was just as involved as Sam, so it wasn't only his story to tell.

  But he could tell by the way she'd breezed past him and plopped down at her desk to stare at paperwork that her feelings were hurt. And for some reason that made him hurt, too. Why was that? It wasn't as if it were his duty to tell her every little thing--they were only co-workers, even though they were closer than most.

  Lucy had come to press against him, as if sensing his sadness. He reached down and scrubbed the fur on top of her head with his fingertips. The dog was big enough that he didn't even have to bend down to pet her.

  Sam sauntered into the squad room and rested his hip on the desk next to Jo. "I guess we need to prove that Tommy, Melody, and Brian couldn't have killed Mike because they were somewhere else. Tommy and Brian should be easy to prove if what they told us is true, but Melody... Maybe that won't be so easy."

  Lucy whined and looked up at Sam then stuck her nose in the trash barrel.

  "Are you feeding her enough?" Jo asked. "She looks like she's hungry."

  Lucy gave a little whine and pushed harder, knocking the trash barrel over.

  "I feed her plenty. I think Kevin and Dupont are spoiling her with those treats." Sam bent over to pick up the trash that had spilled out onto the floor. Lucy was sniffing at the pile, and as he bent to pick up the coffee receipt that had fallen out of Jo's jelly donut bag, Lucy slammed her paw down on it.

  "Looks like she wants a donut," Sam joked. But as he tried to pull the receipt away, Lucy held steady. She looked up at him with her whisky-brown eyes as if to say, "Don't you get it?"

  Sam looked down at the receipt, and a light bulb turned on in his head. "Wait a minute. This receipt gives me an idea. In the last case, we verified that one of the suspects couldn't have been a killer because he'd paid with a credit card at the gas station, and that gave him an alibi for the time of the murder. Maybe we can use receipts to prove what time Melody was at the pharmacy that night."

  Jo shook her head. "I thought about that, but the pharmacy doesn't have receipts like that. They don't list the credit card name on the receipt like the gas station does." Jo reached over and tapped her pencil on the Brewed Awakening receipt that Sam was holding. "It's like this one that just has the time. It doesn't have a credit card number or note that it's a cash transaction, so we wouldn't be able to tell from the pharmacy receipt what time Melody picked up the prescription."

  "That's only sort of true." Sam spun around to see Harry Woolston standing in the lobby. He didn't wait to be invited and just sauntered into the squad room as if they'd been expecting him. "You see, when you pick up pharmaceuticals, it's a whole different thing. There's privacy laws and HIPAA laws or whatever you call them. Anyway, whoever picks them up has to sign for it. So if your suspect was in the pharmacy picking up pills, then her signature would be recorded on the electronic signature gizmo, and I'm willing to bet it also records the time."

  Sam didn't have much experience with the pharmacy, but it made sense. He pushed up from the desk and headed to the door. "Then I guess I better go make a visit over to the pharmacy right away."

  "Don't worry. We'll wait here until you get back," Harry called after him as he rushed out the door.

  The pharmacy wasn't crowded, so Sam didn't have to wait in line. The pharmacist was Betsy Simmons, whom Sam had known since he was a kid. Her husband had left her two years
ago, and she'd taken to flirting with Sam whenever they ran into each other. Sam wasn't in the mood for flirting, but if it helped him get the information he needed, then he'd play along.

  Betsy looked up from under heavy black lashes. "Sam Mason, what can I do for you?"

  Her tone and body language was suggestive, so Sam played into it. He leaned against the counter, rustling up the most charming smile he could muster.

  "I was wondering if I could get some records about a prescription that was picked up here on Monday night." Normally, he'd have to get a court order for that, but maybe if he played his cards right, he could get the information he needed. If he needed the actual receipts, he'd go through the proper channels later, but for now it would help them to know exactly what time Melody picked up the prescription. That alone could knock her off the suspect list.

  Betsy's eyes wavered uncertainly. "Well, I don't know..."

  Sam leaned in closer and turned the charm up even higher. "I'd consider it a big personal favor."

  "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to say who came in that night. What exactly are you looking for?"

  "You heard about Mike Donnelly..." Sam started.

  Betsy's face turned sad. "Yes. Of course. Terrible thing."

  "And you know Margie is very ill and gets a lot of prescriptions filled."

  Betsy nodded. "She does. I feel terrible for their kids."

  Sam nodded in sympathy. "On Monday night, Margie had a prescription filled by Melody, and I was just wondering if you could happen to look in there and see what time that was. I think it's all recorded in some database, right?"

  Betsy perked up at the chance to show her knowledge. "Yes. It all has to be documented. When they come in to get the prescription, they have to sign for it. It's all recorded on the computer." She walked the length of the counter to a monitor and started typing. Her long fingernails clacked on the keys for a few seconds. Then she frowned. "Margie Donnelly, right?"