Twenty minutes later, the entire Priority Unit and a dozen patrolmen hit the neighborhood where the cat was shot, miles away from the two homicides.
Neil interviewed the cat owner personally. Mrs. Sargent had seen the boy clearly—she called him a boy—but she didn’t know him. A female officer drove her to the police station, where Sergeant Lyons set her up with a sketch artist. By two o’clock, the officers had sketches and were showing them to everyone in the area. Neil called a press conference and released the sketch.
“The cat is going to be fine,” he told the reporters who gathered in the lobby. “It has a minor wound, but a veterinarian has treated it, and he says it will heal. But the gun that wounded the cat has been linked to some other crimes, and the police department wants that gun and would like to talk to the person who used it.” For the next ten minutes, he fielded questions from the television and newspaper reporters. He caught Kate’s eye once, and she smiled at him. When it was over and the rest were rushing out the door, she made a beeline for where he stood.
“This is great, Neil!” Her blue eyes sparkled. “I told my editor, and I’m writing the story.”
“Congratulations.”
“So, you hope to find the person who shot the cat.”
“I think we have a good chance. Several people have called in, but so far we haven’t found the right guy. The sketch seems to look vaguely like a lot of people.”
She nodded. “Maybe after they show it on the TV news tonight.” She looked at her watch. “I’d better get at my story. Thanks again.” She reached out to squeeze his arm, and her touch electrified him. Kate seemed to feel it, too, looking a little dazed as she gave him a quick smile and turned to go.
Neil waded through a mountain of reports brought in by the detectives following up on tips from people who thought they recognized the sketch of the cat shooter. They had nothing solid by the end of the day. Maybe, as Kate had said, someone who saw the evening news could make a positive identification.
He was just about to leave the office that evening when the dispatcher called him.
“Detective Alexander, we have a woman on the line with something that may interest you.”
Neil waited while the dispatcher connected him. “Hello. How may I help you?”
“I wondered if the police department could send someone over here to pick up a gun.”
“A gun, ma’am?”
“Yes.”
“Is it your gun?”
“No, of course not.” She sounded peeved. “I took my trash out a little while ago, and I saw a gun in my apartment building’s Dumpster.” She gave him an address three blocks from where the cat was shot.
Neil assured her an officer would be right over. “Bonus points for Kate Richards,” he said as he hung up. Forty-five minutes later he’d recovered the pistol from the Dumpster and was back in the lab with it.
He took the serial number and dusted the pistol for prints. It had been wiped. Then he took it to the area where guns could be fired for ballistics testing in the lab.
Neil fired two rounds and put the bullets in the imaging camera. In a matter of minutes, he had the images running on the computer program for the ballistics matching system. The bullets he had test-fired matched the ones taken from the two homicide victims and the scene of the cat shooting.
Next, Neil traced the gun’s serial number through computerized records. It was registered to a civilian, but had been reported stolen five years ago. He checked one more time to see if bullets from any other crimes matched that weapon, but got no more hits.
He sat back, satisfied. It was a moment to share. He decided to drive over to Connor’s house and tell him what he had found. He arrived at the house at seven forty-five, and Kate met him at the door.
“Well, hi.” She looked great, in an emerald-green sweater and jeans. The air between them seemed charged with electricity.
Neil smiled. “Hi. Is the boss home?”
“Yeah. He’s in the bedroom with Adrienne and Hailey.”
“Oh. I guess I should have called. I don’t want to disturb him.”
“It must be important, or you wouldn’t have come over.”
Neil couldn’t hold back a grin. “It is.”
“Anything I can know about?”
He hesitated. “Well…”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry. That’s no way to repay you after what you did today. I mean, I called you with a flaky, long-shot idea, and you pursued it, and it paid off.”
“I was really glad you told me about it. I don’t usually pay much attention to stuff the patrolmen are dealing with.”
“Come on in. Connor will probably want to hear whatever it is you’ve got. If I send you away, he and Adrienne will both say I shouldn’t have.”
Neil went inside with her. Matthew came padding in from the sunroom in his sleeper. “Uncle Neil!”
“Hey, buddy!” Neil swung him up in his arms. “So, you got a new sister, huh?”
Matt nodded solemnly.
Kate smiled at them. “Why don’t you two go into the living room?”
Neil sat down on the couch with Matthew and picked up a picture book from the coffee table.
The captain entered a moment later. “Neil, what’s up?”
Neil realized Kate was hovering in the doorway behind him. “I’ve got something good. I, uh, wasn’t sure if I should tell Kate, though.”
“Is it something you’ll tell the world tomorrow?”
“Probably. And she did give us a major tip this morning. Should we let her break this in the morning paper?”
“Oh, please!” Kate rocked up and down on her toes with eagerness.
Connor gave her a tolerant smile. “You haven’t had enough work for one day?”
“What is it?” She looked eagerly at Neil.
Absolutely gorgeous! Neil looked away from her vivid eyes. “Oh, just a little something I found tonight. Like the murder weapon in two homicides and an attempted cat-ricide.”
Kate’s jaw dropped. “You found the gun?”
“Found it and matched it to all three crimes.”
“Good work,” Connor said.
“This is huge! I’ve got to call my editor,” Kate said.
“Do me a favor,” Connor said. “You can say we found the murder weapon. Please don’t reveal that it’s the same gun used in the cat shooting.”
Kate frowned. “All right.” She turned and hurried to the kitchen.
“She’ll be up half the night,” Connor said. “And she’ll probably want to ask you a million questions.”
“It’s okay,” Neil said.
Matthew tugged on his sleeve. “Uncle Neil, the story.”
They were halfway through the picture book when Kate returned with a preoccupied look. “Connor, my editor wants me to come in to the office and write the story there. Is that okay? Could you put Matt to bed?”
“Sure, but I hate for you to drive home late alone.”
“I could take her,” Neil offered. He was feeling good about his triumph, and he wondered if he was ready to spend a little more time with Kate.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I really do need more details, and it would be great if you wanted to drive and I could take notes on the way.”
“Perfect. My truck’s in the driveway. Grab your notebook.”
When they walked into the newsroom, the night editor rose from her chair.
“Hello, Kate. I hope you didn’t mind coming in. I’ve got to remake the page, and I figured it would be easier if you put the story right into our system.” The woman eyed Neil from behind her wire-framed glasses, then looked back at Kate.
“Jan, this is Detective Neil Alexander. He’s the one who told me about the new evidence.”
“Hello. Nice to meet you,” the editor said. “Kate, your story will go on the split page.”
“Not the front page?” Kate couldn’t help hearing the disappointment in her own voice.
/> “We’ve got a scandal at the animal shelter already. Barry Patterson is working late on that story. We’re getting close to deadline….” Jan glanced at the clock. “All right. Can you give me twelve inches in twenty minutes? I’ll see what space I can free up on page one.”
Kate gulped. She typed fast, but she wasn’t sure she could translate her notes into readable copy that quickly.
“I’ll do my best.” She turned and looked at Neil. “You heard her. Want some coffee?”
“No, I’m good. What else do you need to know?”
It was the most intense interview Kate had ever done, but she pounded out the story in just under half an hour. She played up the discovery of the weapon, and that it positively connected the two murders. She sent the finished product electronically to Jan’s computer.
“Not bad,” Jan said when she opened the file. “I’m impressed, Kate. Barry is still on the phone with his source for that Animal Protection Society thing. Sounds like someone connected with the animal shelter made off with a pile of money.”
Kate smiled and looked over at Neil. He winked at her, and her stomach fluttered. He was adorable, and instead of distracting her from her story, he’d helped her with it. A memory of kissing Neil in the summer sunlight flashed through her mind, but she quickly squelched it. “Thanks for letting me—” She whipped around to stare at Jan. “What did—” She turned back to Neil. “Did you hear what she said?”
“Yeah.” Neil shook his head. “Too bad. Someone stole the shelter’s money.”
“They were going to build a new shelter, and one of the directors stole over a million dollars from their bank account,” Jan said.
Neil whistled. “I wonder who’s handling it at the police department.”
“Barry could tell you, if he weren’t on the phone,” Jan said.
“Neil!” Kate grabbed his sleeve, certain there was more to the story. “Isn’t that where Edna Riley volunteered?”
He looked down at her without speaking for a long moment. Finally, he inhaled. “She left them some money, too. Oh, man.”
SIX
Neil watched as Connor skimmed the front page of Saturday morning’s paper. Adrienne held the new baby on her lap as she ate breakfast. Kate circled the Larsons’ kitchen table, pouring coffee for herself and the two men, and Matthew sat in his booster seat, eating oatmeal, between his parents’ chairs.
“So,” Connor said, “they’ve been planning this new four-million-dollar shelter for some time.”
“Yeah.” Neil reached for the sugar bowl. “The organization has been raising money for about two years. They had over half of what they needed and expected to break ground in the spring.”
Connor nodded, still reading. “And yesterday the building fund was raided by the shelter’s director, and he has apparently left town, according to Sergeant Legere’s detectives.”
“He might have left the state, or even the country,” Neil said, “with over a million dollars.”
“Pretty crummy.” Kate slipped into her chair beside him.
Neil shot her a glance. “Kate’s the one who made the connection. He could be our shooter.”
Connor folded the papers and started reading a story below the fold. “So, Kate, I see you made page one again. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” The toaster popped, and she jumped up to grab the toasted bagels.
“Don’t you think we should do something to find this Burton guy who stole the money?” Neil asked.
Connor looked back at the top of the newspaper. “Jim Burton. Well, Neil, I’ll tell you. Two of Ron Legere’s detectives are handling it. But that embezzler’s not in Portland anymore, you can bet on that.”
Neil’s frustration made his coffee taste bitter, and he put an extra spoonful of sugar in it. “I spoke to Joey Bolduc last night. He’s on the animal shelter investigation. When I called him, they were trying to find out if Burton had caught a plane. And the sergeant assured me his unit is doing everything possible to stop Burton if he hasn’t left town yet, but they’re afraid he’s already skipped.”
“So you really think this has to do with Mrs. Riley’s murder?” Kate asked timidly.
“Not necessarily. Coincidences happen.” Connor laid the paper beside his plate. “However, when one organization is involved in two major crimes in the same week, I take notice.”
Neil thought back over all the information he had collected on Edna Riley. “Mrs. Riley left ten thousand dollars to the animal shelter, and she volunteered there, helping with the animals.”
“Let’s let the sergeant and his men see what they turn up this weekend,” Connor said. “We may want to interview Professor Riley again on Monday.”
“What about Hepburn, the second victim?” Kate asked. “I don’t suppose he made a large bequest to the Animal Protection Society?”
“No, he didn’t have much,” Neil said. “His house was mortgaged. What little he had goes to his children.”
Connor looked over the top of his newspaper. “Did his sister take the cats?”
Neil met his eyes. The facts slowly clicked into place in his mind. The two murder victims were both animal lovers. Kate watched him curiously.
Adrienne picked up on Connor’s mood. “Sweetheart, you aren’t going to work today, are you?”
“I wonder if Edna Riley knew Ted Hepburn,” Connor said.
“Yeah. We could ask Mr. Riley,” Neil suggested.
“Or we could call the shelter. What time do they open in the morning?”
“It’s Saturday. I’m not sure they’re open at all today.”
“Somebody has to feed the animals,” Connor said.
Adrienne let out a quiet moan.
Neil jumped up. “I’ll go.”
Connor nodded and reached over to give Adrienne’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry, honey. I told you I’ll stay home this weekend. Neil’s doing great on this case so far. I’m sure he can handle it.”
Kate stood up, with half a bagel still in her hand. “I’ll get my notebook, Neil. You’re taking me, too, Neil. Please?”
One car sat in the parking lot of the animal shelter when Neil pulled in. He and Kate got out of the truck. Neil tried the handle on the shelter’s front door, but it was locked. He knocked loudly. A red-haired woman in slacks and a ski sweater opened the door.
“May I help you?”
“I’m Detective Alexander with the Portland P.D., and I’m investigating the death of Mrs. Edna Riley.”
“Terrible thing,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. May I ask you a few questions about Mrs. Riley?” He gestured at Kate. “This is Kate Richards of the Press Herald.”
The woman opened the door wide, and they followed her into the office area. It smelled like animals and shavings and dog food and manure. Somewhere beyond the office, dogs were barking.
The woman faced them. “I’m Roberta Palmer.” She was forty or more, of medium build and pleasant. Not a model, by any means, but attractive. “How can I help you?”
“Mrs. Riley left the shelter a bequest,” Neil said.
“Yes, ten thousand dollars. Her attorney informed us.”
Neil asked, “Did the society receive that money yet?”
“No, thank heavens. If we had, it would have gone to Argentina, or wherever Jim Burton is now.”
“I was very sorry to read about that, ma’am,” Neil said.
“These poor animals are the ones who will suffer. We’re so crowded here, and the facility is obsolete.”
“So, will you have to cancel the new building?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t actually take all the money. There were some investments that he couldn’t liquidate on his own. But he took the best part of it. Had it transferred electronically to some foreign bank, apparently. If he’s not caught, I guess we have to start over. And people won’t be so quick to donate a second time.”
“No, ma’am.”
“We’re having a big fund-raiser next week,”
she said. “It’s our annual fancy dinner dance, the Fur Ball. We expected to raise a huge amount of money, maybe as much as two hundred thousand dollars. But now I don’t know if people will support it.”
“And you and the other employees had no inkling—”
“Of course not!” She sounded offended.
“Did you know Edna Riley personally?” Neil asked.
“Oh, sure. Edna volunteered two days a week to brush the animals and take dogs out for a walk, or whatever we needed her to do. She was very helpful, and a good worker.”
“How long had she done this?”
“Ten years maybe. She was devoted to the animals.”
“But she didn’t have any pets,” Neil observed.
“Her husband was allergic.” Roberta nodded sagely. “When she left here, she would go home and shower and wash her clothing so the dander wouldn’t bother him.”
Neil was aware of Kate standing behind him, listening avidly. She knew when to keep quiet. His conviction that she would succeed at her job ratcheted up a notch.
“Miss Palmer, did you know a man named Theodore Hepburn?” he asked.
“Ted Hepburn? Sure. He was another of our volunteers.”
Neil glanced at Kate, who was writing quickly in her notebook. “He came in here regularly to help you out?”
“Yes. Every Friday,” Roberta said. “He loved cats especially. He adopted several himself, ones we couldn’t find a home for.”
Neil nodded. “It’s wonderful when people care so much about pets. Was Friday one of Mrs. Riley’s days?”
“Why, yes. She was here on Tuesdays and Fridays. Ted was here on Fridays. Like clockwork.”
“So they worked together one day a week?”
“Sometimes. He would clean cages and bathe new animals.”
“How long had he been a volunteer?”
“Three or four years.”
Neil said gently, “You know Mr. Hepburn was also murdered last weekend?”
“Yes. It was quite a blow. Two of our volunteers being killed like that.” Her face whitened. “You don’t think there was some connection, do you?”
“Well, yes, ma’am. There was a connection. You may not have read today’s paper, but they were shot with the same gun. We didn’t realize they knew each other, though. Can you tell us what their relationship was?”
On a Killer's Trail Page 8
