Brian nodded. “That’s part of it.”
“Maybe I can help here.” Melony flashed Brian a dazzling smile showing off straight white teeth. “About a month ago, we had a girls’ night out, Danielle, Lily, Heather, and myself. We met here. Danielle arrived first and went to the bar to wait for us. Chet was there and tried to hit on Danielle. He used some asinine pickup technique called negging. Danielle got away from him as fast as she could and told us about it. I was curious to see who this joker was, so I went back to the bar. I recognized him. We had gone to high school together.”
Brian frowned. “Negging?”
“It’s when a guy tries picking up a woman he thinks is out of his league. Basically, he starts with a compliment, then an insult, trying to undermine her self-confidence. The theory being she will eventually do anything to gain his approval,” Melony explained.
“And that works?” Brian asked.
Adam chuckled. “It sure didn’t with Danielle; she thinks he’s a jerk. But he’s convinced she has a thing for him.”
“Why does he think that?” Brian asked.
“It’s silly, really. Danielle had been thinking of cutting her hair for a while; in fact, I gave her the name of a hairdresser that night. But coincidentally Chet made some crack to her when he tried picking her up about how she might be good looking if she cut her hair,” Melony explained.
“And now Chet is convinced she has a thing for him,” Adam interjected. “That’s why we were talking about him. When Chet’s sister was tired of his freeloading, he thought he could get Danielle to rent him a room—at a reduced rate. Of course, she wouldn’t even give him a room at the full rate.”
“Do you know where Chet is now?”
“Last I heard, he was crashing at the Bandoni brothers’ in Astoria. I ran into Laverne the other day, and she told me he was doing some work with the brothers. You could ask her about it.”
“Laverne’s in jail right now,” Brian told them.
Twenty-Eight
When Police Chief MacDonald drove up to Marlow House Monday morning, he found the locksmith van parked in the street and its owner in the process of changing out the hardware on the front door. MacDonald greeted the locksmith and entered the house without knocking.
He made his way to the kitchen and found Danielle and Walt sitting at the table, finishing breakfast.
“Morning, Chief,” Walt greeted him, lifting his cup in mock salute.
“Good morning, Chief,” Danielle said without standing up. With her mug, she pointed to the coffee maker on the counter. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks. I see you’re getting new locks.” MacDonald grabbed a cup from the overhead cabinet and poured himself some coffee.
“The way people have been coming and going the last few days, I thought we needed to do something. I’m also thinking of having security cameras installed around the exterior of the property.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t call me yesterday.” The chief walked to the table with his coffee.
“I figured Joe or Brian had already done that,” Danielle said. “And what was the point? There really wasn’t anything you could do from Portland, and I didn’t want you racing back to Frederickport.”
The chief sipped his coffee and then asked, “Is there anything I need to know that you couldn’t tell Joe and Brian?”
“I saw Macbeth’s spirit,” Walt told him. “That’s the real reason we searched through the house.”
“Looking for his body?” the chief asked.
Walt nodded.
“I don’t suppose he mentioned who killed him?”
“I asked, but I’m afraid he took off without telling me.”
Danielle interrupted by asking, “Chief, can I get you anything to eat?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I grabbed a breakfast sandwich before I came over here; coffee is fine.”
“Brian told me Chet’s sister, Laverne, was arrested for the murder. I certainly didn’t see that one coming,” Danielle said.
“She was released this morning,” the chief said.
“You don’t think she did it?” Walt asked.
“I don’t know. We had to charge her or let her go. I didn’t think we had enough to make anything stick. What’s her motive? I know they once dated, but that was over twenty years ago, and there’s no sign she’d had any contact with him aside from running into him in Astoria the other day.”
“Weren’t her fingerprints on the murder weapon?” Danielle asked.
“Yes. But not on the grip. And they tested her hands and clothes, and there was no gunshot residue, which wouldn’t surprise me if she wore gloves and if the clothes they tested weren’t what she was wearing at the time of the murder.”
“They tested all our hands,” Danielle told him.
“Why would her fingerprints be on the gun if she wore gloves?” Walt asked.
“That’s what I’m wondering,” the chief said.
“A sloppy killer?” Danielle suggested with a shrug.
“And why have her friends drop her off by the pier? If she had a reason to kill Macbeth, why would she go out of her way to make sure someone saw her in the neighborhood? Especially Carla,” the chief said. “And if she killed him before she went to the pier, why wouldn’t she have taken the gun with her and tossed it into the ocean?”
“Unless she panicked,” Danielle suggested.
“Perhaps.” The chief shrugged.
“Sounds like you don’t think she’s guilty,” Walt noted.
“Like I said, I don’t know. But Joe and Brian aren’t convinced. In fact, they believe you’re in some way involved in all this.”
Walt arched his brows. “Me?”
“More accurately, Clint. In fact, when I spoke to Brian on the phone yesterday about the case, he was planning to come over here to interview you again. I told him not to. Said I would do it. I don’t think Brian was thrilled with me, but he didn’t argue.”
“I don’t imagine he was,” Danielle said.
“There was one strange thing that popped up,” the chief said.
“What was that?” Danielle asked.
“Joe ran Walt’s fingerprints.”
Danielle frowned. “I thought he only collected our prints to see if they matched the ones on the guns. Why run them?”
The chief arched his brow. “What do you think?”
“He’s hoping to find something on Walt?” Danielle grumbled.
“What was the strange thing that popped up?” Walt asked.
“Clint had his fingerprints on file for his California real estate license. And those fingerprints don’t match the ones they took from Walt.”
“How can they not match?” Danielle asked.
Walt glanced down at the scar on his wrist. He then looked to the chief. “What does this mean?”
“I told Joe and Brian it was obviously some screw up with the California real estate department and said it wasn’t our problem. I know you aren’t involved in this, but I can’t really tell that to my officers.”
“What do you know about Laverne?” Danielle asked.
“I don’t really know her. I know who she is. She grew up in Frederickport. A year or so after she was out of high school, her parents were killed in a house fire, and she took care of her younger brother.
“According to what she told Brian, she once dated Macbeth. But that was over twenty years ago. She claims she was the one who’d broken up and that she hadn’t seen Macbeth since the breakup—not until Friday when she made a delivery for work and ran into him in Astoria. Brian checked with her boss, Ray Fuller, and he corroborated her story. He sent her to Astoria for a delivery, and Ray claimed she didn’t know she would be going until a few minutes before she left. So it sounds like running into Macbeth wasn’t something she planned.”
“According to Adam, her brother was staying with Macbeth’s cousins,” Danielle said.
MacDonald nodded. “Brian already talked to Adam about Chet.�
��
Danielle smiled. “Yes, I know. Melony called me. Told me what was said.”
“Have you tracked down the annoying brother yet?” Walt asked.
“No. And Laverne refuses to help us find him. In fact, she refuses to say much about anything. The moment they asked her why her fingerprints were on the murder weapon, she stopped talking and asked to see an attorney. Later, before her release, when asked why she had thrown Chet out of the house, she insisted her neighbors had exaggerated, that it was nothing more than a typical sibling spat. No big deal. Claimed he left because he wanted to travel. But when asked where he might be traveling, she said she had no idea and stopped talking again.”
“Traveling? But she told Adam he was staying with Macbeth’s cousins,” Danielle said.
“I know. And when reminded of that, she clammed up again.”
“And the cousins? What do they say about all this?” Danielle asked.
“They still haven’t shown up,” MacDonald told her. “We have someone watching their house, but it looks like they might be traveling with Chet.”
The first thing Laverne did when she got home from the police station on Monday was to take a shower. After getting dressed, she went to her bedroom, pulled her phone from her purse, and called her brother’s cell number.
After the second ring she heard, “Laverne? Is that you?”
“Chet, where are you?”
“Listen to me, Laverne…” came his raspy whisper.
“Chet, you have to talk louder. I can barely hear you. Where are you?”
“I can’t talk louder; someone might hear me,” he whispered.
“What did you do, Chet?” Laverne asked.
“I had to do it. I did it for you, Laverne,” he told her.
“You did what for me?” Laverne asked in a wavering voice.
“Mac. I killed him. I had to. Your secret’s safe now.”
“Oh no! Chet, say you didn’t,” she sobbed.
“I love you, Laverne. I’m sorry I was such a loser brother,” his voice cracked.
“You are not a loser. But, Chet, they have your gun. I recognized it. I didn’t tell them it was yours. But if they trace it back to you, you’re going to jail again. And this time…you could get the death penalty.”
“I don’t care. I had to protect you.”
“Listen, Chet, please listen to me. All I ever wanted was to take care of you. I’m sorry I kicked you out of the house. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I can fix this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You have to promise me you’ll disappear. Don’t come back. Not until I say it’s okay.”
“What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see. Listen to the news. But whatever you do, stay away. I’ll get a message to you some way, I promise. But for now, stay away.”
When the phone call ended, Laverne lay on her bed and began to sob. After more than an hour, she pulled herself together, washed her face, and changed her clothes.
“I didn’t think I would see you again so soon,” Chief MacDonald said when he returned to the police station late Monday morning and found Laverne Morrison waiting for him.
Laverne stood up and faced the chief. “I have something to tell you.”
“Have you come to tell me where your brother is?” the chief asked.
Laverne shook her head. “No. I’ve come to confess to Mac’s murder.”
The chief didn’t respond immediately. It was the last thing he had expected her to say.
The chief sat in the interrogation room with Laverne while Joe and Brian listened and watched from the next office. Laverne had told the chief she would only give him her confession. After formally waiving her right to an attorney, he asked the first question.
“Why did you kill him?”
Sitting primly in the chair, her back straight and her hands folded on the table before her, Laverne said, “He broke my heart. And when I saw him again, I just snapped.”
“Where did you get the gun?” he asked.
“I stole it,” she said.
“You stole it? Who did you steal it from?” he asked.
Licking her lips nervously, she said, “I don’t know. From some tourist who came into the hardware store. She left her purse open. I saw it. And when she wasn’t looking, I took it.”
The chief arched his brow. “Do you often steal from your customers?”
She shrugged. “No. But I saw the gun, and something told me to take it. So I did.”
“Okay…how did you know where to find Macbeth?” he asked.
She frowned a moment and then looked at the chief. “He hated that name. I only knew his real name was Macbeth because I saw his driver’s license once. He was always Mac to me.”
“How did you know Mac was going to be at Marlow House?” the chief asked.
“I didn’t. But I saw him when I was with my friends. So I asked them to let me out of the car. I followed him.” She paused and then asked, “That means it’s not premeditated, doesn’t it? It’s not like I planned it.”
“Did another car drop you off and pick you up in front of Marlow House?” he asked.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“After your friends dropped you off by the pier, did someone else pick you up and drop you off in front of Marlow House? And then later pick you up in front of the house after you shot him?”
She shook her head. “No. I was walking. I went back to the pier, had the pie, and then called a driver.”
“So on a whim, spur of the moment, you decide to kill a boyfriend you hadn’t seen in over twenty years?”
“I told you, I saw him on Friday. It…it opened old wounds. I snapped.”
“And you just happened to have the gun with you? The gun you stole?”
“Yes. I’m a woman living alone; it’s dangerous out there. I feel safer having a loaded gun in my purse.”
“What did you do with the gloves?” he asked.
She frowned again. “What gloves?”
“You didn’t have any residue on your hands; you must have worn gloves. What did you do with them?”
“I washed my hands really well when I got home, before your men tested them. I must have washed all the residue off.”
“Then why weren’t your fingerprints on the gun?”
“My fingerprints were on the gun.”
“Not on the grip,” he told her.
“I wiped the gun off. I guess I didn’t do a very good job.”
“Okay, I’d like to know exactly what happened.”
She frowned at him. “I already told you.”
“Where were you when you shot him? Where was he?”
Laverne stared at the chief a moment. Finally, she said, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore; it’s too painful. All you need to know is that I did it. I wish I hadn’t, but I did.”
“She’s lying,” the chief said when he walked into the office next to the interrogation room fifteen minutes later.
“Which means she’s protecting someone, likely her brother,” Brian said. “Although I think she’s involved.”
“We need to talk to Clint Marlow again,” Joe said. “He’s tangled up in this someway.”
Twenty-Nine
Chris had given Heather Monday off. After their stressful weekend, he had insisted they both needed an extra day of rest and relaxation. She wasn’t going to argue with him, considering it was a day off with pay. Because of the unexpected holiday, she took her morning jog later than usual. It was early afternoon before she got on the beach, grateful there was no rain to dampen her run.
She had just jogged under the pier and was heading toward Ian and Lily’s house when she spied a man ahead, walking in the same direction she was going. He wasn’t very tall, maybe five feet two, with dark thinning hair. Getting closer, she could see his bald spot. She was just a few feet behind him when she came to an abrupt stop. She hadn’t seen it before. Heather simply stared. In his
right hand, dangling at his side, she spied a handgun.
Standing on the beach, she glanced around. There were other people nearby, yet no one seemed to notice the determined stride of the man walking down the beach, gun in hand. She wasn’t sure what to do—call the police maybe?
To her horror, he stopped walking, raised his gun, and pointed it at a child nearby. A moment later, he pulled the trigger, and Heather let out a loud shrill scream. Everyone on the beach—including the child and the man with the gun—turned to face her.
“What’s wrong?” the child’s mother asked Heather.
Heather stood mute, unable to utter a sound. She looked from the confused woman to the man with the gun. Their gazes locked. He raised the pistol, pointed it at Heather, and pulled the trigger. In the next moment he disappeared.
“That was the chief,” Danielle told Chris and Walt, who were sitting in the library, playing another game of chess. Before starting the game, Walt had promised he would keep Max away.
About to move his knight, Chris paused and looked up to Danielle. “And?”
“Laverne Morrison, she’s in custody again for Macbeth’s murder,” she told them.
“I thought the chief said they didn’t have enough to arrest her?” Walt asked.
“She confessed.”
“Confessed?” Walt and Chris said in unison.
“Yes. After the chief left here and went back to his office, she was waiting for him. Insisted she had to talk to him—and only him. She told him she killed Macbeth.”
“Why?” Chris asked. “I thought you said they hadn’t seen each other for years.”
“She claimed he had broken her heart and then said she snapped when she ran into him in Astoria.”
“Considering how long ago they broke up, that’s some delayed reaction, I’d say,” Chris muttered.
Danielle pulled up a chair to Walt and Chris and sat down. “The chief doesn’t think she did it.”
Before either Walt or Chris could respond, they heard frantic knocking at the library window. Looking up, they found Heather knocking on the glass pane and pointing in the direction of the kitchen door.
The Ghost of Second Chances Page 18
