Ronald took the paper and watched as pain coursed client’s face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Unfortunately, I have to.”
Ronald had always been skeptical about Deena; the poor Catholic girl from around the way who’d captured Collin’s heart. After the two of them married at eighteen, he didn’t believe it was going to last. “On the phone you mentioned divorce. It’s been thirty-four years. Hell, my wife’s made me mad enough to dig a hole out in our backyard and I’m sure she’s dug one for me too.”
Collin’s mouth twitched. “Genuine love existed in your marriage. Me--I was too busy trying to save Deena from herself.”
Ronald could tell that the man he’d watch grow up was hurting inside. And with two major decisions looming before Collin, as his attorney, he had to make sure no one could call into question what he was about to do. “Okay, so your marriage is done. What about Celine? It was tragic what happened to her and losing a child isn’t something one can just—”
“I’m in my right mind. So, will you handle both?
The leather crinkled underneath him as he leaned forward in his chair. “I’m glad your dad isn’t here to see this, but I’ll handle both.”
“The trust,” Collin said, standing. “It’ll hold up through the divorce?”
“Absolutely. Deena has no claim on that house.” Roland’s eyes drifted down to the envelope. “What’s in there?”
“A little bit of everything.” Collin pushed the envelope across the desk. “Just in case Lily has a problem with Deena or Ibee. I leave for Green Bay in two days.”
“I’ll have your will ready before you leave.”
“I’ll stop by on my way out of town.”
*
November 13, 8:46 p.m.
It had been three weeks and Lily still hadn’t heard from the crime lab. Each day tried her patience more than the last. She attempted to dissect each piece of evidence in her head, but her leads only led to vague possibilities.
The downdraft cook top hummed on high, venting the steam billowing over the lip of the stockpot. Lily watched as Julius snipped the rubber restraints on a pair of menacing claws and quickly dropped the lobster into the boiling water.
Vented steam erupted like tiny screams as the trapped lobster claws scraped the sides of the stockpot. He turned the burner off the asparagus tips and added a spoon of butter to the garlic mashed potatoes.
“Where did you get fresh lobsters?” Lily asked, grabbing plates and glasses from the dishwasher.
“From the trout farm. I ordered them live, not frozen, so they’d be fresh.”
Lily leaned into the century old swinging door and entered the dining room. “Seafood for dinner tonight. What are we celebrating?” She quickly set the table, lit the candle and checked her cellphone for messages.
Nothing.
The door to the kitchen opened. “We’re not celebrating anything,” Julius said, placing the asparagus and potatoes on the table. "I’m taking steps to make up for ruining our honeymoon. I thought we’d have date night at home.”
“Instead of going out?”
“C’mon. I make the best food in town,” Julius said. “Wine or tea with dinner tonight?”
“Wine. But only a half glass.
Julius left and shortly returned with the lobster, wine glasses, and a bottle of Chardonnay. “I know you like Roseˊ but white tastes better with seafood.” He fixed Lily’s plate and sat down. “How’s work?”
“It’s work.”
“Have the rumors stopped?”
“No.”
“It’s gotta be crazy working there. People always talking about your family problems.”
Lily took her fork and dipped her lobster in her butter. “You’re staying busy?”
“Always. I’m looking forward to the awards banquet coming up. Can you go?”
“I’ll go as long as I don’t have to be at work.”
Her husband poked at his potatoes with his fork. “Since Celine died, you seem to be working more than before.”
Lily’s grip tightened around the fork. “It’s not like I can control when people decide to commit crimes, Julius.”
“I don’t want to argue, Babe. All I’m saying is you’re going to drive yourself insane if you don’t take a break. Have you thought about seeing a counselor? Maybe a private one instead of Montejack. Since he has ties to the family, talking to him about your sister might not be a good idea.”
Lily’s appetite diminished as she muzzled her words that would lead to a huge fight. The dinner was supposed to be a peace offering for their lousy honeymoon when he had told her to transfer to another department because he didn’t want her working with Evan. Now, she realized, it was a bribe to get her to do what he deemed best.
She believed in a small way he cared, but his jealousy was getting in the way.
Her cell buzzed across the table. It was Norris from the crime lab.
“I have information for you. Ready for the text?”
“No. I’ll come to you.” Lily hooked her phone on the clip. “I have to go,” she said standing.
“But we’re right in the middle of dinner.”
“No. We were in the middle of a conversation.” She lifted her jacket off the back of the chair and put it on. “The next time you want to make up to me, you can leave your issues with Evan and with my work at the door.”
*
9: 27 p.m.
The forty-six minute drive from Fort to Madison gave Lily enough time to stop thinking about the failed candlelight dinner with Julius and afforded a chance to get hyped about what Criminalist Oscar Norris had found.
She moved swiftly through the crime lab corridors, her hard soles beating against the linoleum. When she reached the end of the hall, she continued straight and entered Norris’ office.
“Took you long enough,” Norris said, buttoning his lab coat over his burly build.
Lily looked down at the bowl full of M&M’s on his desk and helped herself. “Since when did you start leaving chocolate out for the taking?”
“Since I found out I’m a diabetic. But help yourself.” Norris picked at a bump on his cleft chin. “We’re not finding a DNA match in the system. This guy has covered his tracks. I haven’t given up, but I’m not confident that it’ll return a firm result. Anyway, fragments found in the cloths were aluminum.”
“Like what? A soda can?”
“Correct! Except this one’s from a beer can.” Norris handed her sheets of paper. “The shoe prints at the scene fits the standard-issued steel-toed work boots for Barkin Brewery. And they’re two different sizes.”
Lily lowered her head. “We’re dealing with two perps.”
“One’s a size ten and a half and the other is a twelve.”
“Where’s the brewery located?”
“Off of Woodwind and Third.”
“That’s near the dump site,” Lily said, checking the map on her phone. “It’s about seven miles.”
She considered this information. “Any indication that the brewery was the original crime scene?”
Norris shrugged. “The brewery closed down recently and word is the owner is good friends with the mayor.”
Lily inhaled deeply. “Maybe he kept a payroll log of his past employees.”
“If this gets any stickier, you probably should call Landon.”
Lily walked towards the door. “Ah, good ole, Montejack,” she said, biting on her lower lip. “I’d rather not, but we’ll see.”
“You know a better forensic psychologist?”
Lily had to admit she did not. She just wasn’t ready to go poking at the wasp’s nest.
*
November 14, 7:30 a.m.
Lily and Morgan merged onto Highway 26 and put Victor Barkin’s address into the GPS. After twenty minutes on the road, the humming of the Charger had rocked Lily to sleep.
“Next time you drive and I’ll take a nap,” Morgan said.
“Deal.” Lily yawned
and sat up in her seat.
“Car 3210, do you copy?” the dispatcher asked.
“We copy. Go ahead.”
“That information that you requested from the DMV just came back.”
Lily opened up her planner and plucked the pen from its slot. “I’m ready.”
“I received confirmation that the white truck does belong to a Thomas Sanchez. He purchased the vehicle from a Victor Barkin.”
“Any unpaid tickets or warrants?”
“Nope. He’s clean.”
“Not even a parking ticket?”
“Not a single one.”
“All right.” Lily hung up the mic and pondered the information from the dispatcher. No tickets. “How can a person who commits three brutal murders come back clean? It’s like he fits the profile of a normal person. He probably goes to work or hangs out at home until the urge to kill kicks in. Nothing fits. We can’t even guess when he’ll strike again.” She tugged on her shoulder belt.
“The Joshua kid seemed to be too helpful.”
“Joshua’s not our killer.”
Morgan raked her hands through her hair. “You’re doing it again.”
“What am I’m doing?”
“Profiling. It’s like you’ve got a knack for sizing up killers. Who is and who isn’t. Ever wonder if you chose the wrong line of work?”
“Never crossed my mind.”
As they approached Lake Forest Drive, a row of luxury homes with lakeside decks, piers and manicured lawns came into view.
“These people must have more money than God.” Morgan turned into a red brick driveway and shut off the engine. “Let’s see what we can get out of Mr. Barkin.”
Lily and Morgan walked alongside the white fence that stretched from the end of the driveway and stopped in front of the porch pillars, which were covered in red roses.
They stared at the mahogany arched rustic doors.
“I can’t believe one person stays in this big-ass house,” Morgan said in a low whisper, ringing the doorbell.
Barking closed in as a white Havanese bolted across the yard, stopping at Lily’s heels.
“Aw, look at the cute puppy,” Morgan cooed, bending down.
“Be careful. He might bite you.”
“Animals love me.” Morgan eased her hand toward the dog. The Havanese whined, sat down on his haunches and licked her fingers. She stood up, ringing the doorbell again while the dog rolled out another round of barking.
“We won’t need to ring the doorbell if he keeps this up.” Lily placed her finger in her ear.
The front door creaked, quieting the Havanese.
A tall man dressed in a butler’s uniform opened the door and brought his bony finger to his lips. “Hush, Cotton,” he scolded in an adenoidal voice.
Cotton whimpered.
Morgan reached down and scooped the dog up in her arms. “You don’t feel like cotton. You feel more like silk.”
“We’re here to speak with Victor Barkin.” Lily produced her police badge.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m Detective Blanchette and this is Detective Danvers. We have a few questions regarding his brewery.”
“I’ll take you to him,” the butler said, stepping back to let them inside.
Elegant beaded lamps hung suspended from the ceiling of the entrance and traditional area rugs lined the long hallway. Vaulted brick ceilings and European antiques added to the Old World feeling.
As they halted in front of a pocket door, the butler turned to face them. “Mr. Barkin conducts all his business out of his study. He only has a few minutes to spare.”
“We’ll do our best,” Lily said.
The butler looked at Morgan. “You’ll have to leave Cotton here.”
Morgan sat Cotton down and watched as he scampered away in the direction from where they had come.
The butler pushed the double doors apart. “You have visitors, Mr. Barkin.”
Victor Barkin looked up from his paper work and stood, emanating class and capability, carrying himself with distinguished poise.
He came from around the desk as the butler slid the doors closed behind him.
“I must say, I don’t receive much company out this way. Especially from two beautiful ladies. Please have a seat.”
“I love your Oriental rug,” Lily said, pointing down at the crimson and gold fabric beneath her loafers.
“Thank you,” Victor said, smiling warmly. “It’s been in the family for years.” He sat behind his desk and folded his hands in his lap “So, what can I do for you?”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding one of your former employees,” Lily said.
“Whatever I can do to help.”
“Do you still have payroll records and uniform check lists?”
“I sure do.”
“Would you mind if we looked them over? Along with birth dates and socials?” Morgan asked.
Lily scrutinized Barkin’s body language as he shifted in his seat.
“Any other time I would say yes, however, for personal reasons I have to decline. The only way you’ll be able to view my records is if you have a warrant.”
“We’re not looking to audit you, Mr. Barkin. This is for a homicide investigation,” Lily explained.
A crease formed in his brow. “A homicide? Am I being accused of something?”
“All we asked for was a list of your employees,” Lily said.
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”
Frustration built inside Lily. Time to get the honey. “I respect your decision to protect your records. I’m just a detective trying to solve the case of two murdered young women who were planning their futures. One wanted to be a pediatrician and the other a teacher. I’m not a parent and don’t believe you have children. Do you?”
“No.”
“I can’t do this by myself. If, for some reason, you know something that might help this case, you’d be helping a set of parents get some closure before the holidays. But I need your help.”
“I know, but—”
“Did Thomas Sanchez ever work for you?” Lily pressed.
“He worked at the company for two years.”
“You sold him a truck?”
“Yes.” Victor searched through the scattered paperwork on his desk and retrieved a stack of half-sheet invoices. He handed them to Lily. “Feel free to take these with you. After you go over the records, you’ll have more questions. Now if you excuse me, I have a meeting in Waukesha.”
Victor’s phone rang as they rose from their chairs.
“I appreciate what you’ve done,” Lily said.
Victor waved and answered his call.
Once outside, Lily stopped and glanced over her shoulder. What did he mean, we’ll have more questions?
Chapter 12
9:00 a.m.
The Rock River Daily, Julius’s employer, was the area’s largest newspaper, covering the four counties surrounding Fort Atkinson, Milton, Jefferson, and Janesville.
The sun filtered through the office window of the cream brick building. Julius often spent his time staring out that window, facing the Main Street Bridge, which spanned over the Rock River and trailed into the heart of downtown Fort Atkinson. However, for the last few minutes, he had spent his time distracted, staring at the date x’d out on the calendar. It was the anniversary of the day his mama had gotten sick.
He’d done everything he could to erase those demons from his mind, including trying to block out that period in his life as if it never existed.
His boss walked up to his desk. “I liked the first draft you did on the assistant district attorney, but I’ve seen better,” he said in his thick English accent.
Julius closed his laptop and turned. “I’ll rewrite it, Bruce.”
Bruce Bailey tossed the printed article onto Julius’s desk and straightened the collar on his heavily starched shirt. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing criminal about Ibee Walters.
Move on. I want you to focus on the latest investigation centered on those two girls found out in the field on County Road K.”
“I finished my article about that case. There’s nothing out there that’s fresh. I wanna focus on what Ibee’s really like. I’ve got a source that can prove she does things to fix a case in order to get a conviction.
“If I get it done on time, I can submit this as my acceptance article in case I do win that award.”
“The one you’ve submitted was better. The one I need you to work on will be a follow up to the article written by the new gal where she discussed Ibee’s finer points when she was running for election. You know the article that Ibee twisted your arm to write, so the paper could show the world how wonderful she is even though we both know she’s not. How’d you let her trap you like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hopefully she won’t be able to do that again. I love sex and women. But Ibee isn’t one you’d like to climb into bed with. Just ask the police shrink.”
Heat curled down Julius arm. “Landon Montejack?”
“That’s your tip for today. Now to clean up this mess you made.” Bruce scratched his bald head. “You’ll re-write the article. Keep it focused on Ibee’s untainted past and how she’s working hard on the case. The election is over, but our readers need to be reminded of how much good she has done. Putting the bad guys away, shit like that.”
“After the holidays, can I write what I want?”
“We’ll talk about it when the time comes.” Bruce picked up a picture of Lily. “Are you bringing that beautiful wife of yours to the banquet?”
Julius cut his eyes at his boss. If Bruce noticed, he wasn’t bothered by it. “I’m not sure. She’s the lead investigator on the case. Besides, Lily could use a break from your flirting,” he snatched the portrait from his boss’ hand.
Bruce roared with laughter. “My flirting with your wife is harmless. No need for you to go getting jealous. Use your bonce.”
“Bonce?”
“It means use your head. Women enjoy being doted on and paid attention to or they’ll run off. Just ask my first wife.”
“She left because you ignored her?”
Promised Lies (A Detective Blanchette Mystery) Page 8
