Sizzling Cold Case

by Rayna Morgan

  “Our relationship is a mixed bag, like many fathers and sons.”

  “Can you define mixed bag for me?” Pat asked.

  “Some things we agree on; others, not so much.” He chewed his nail without further comment.

  Pat asked another question. “Is your stepmother a source of disagreement with your father?”

  He shifted uneasily. “I don’t understand your question.”

  “Were you bothered when your father married Lynn?”

  “Not especially. I don’t know enough about her to judge, other than the fact she’s half his age.” An oily smile crept across his face. “I mean, the women I date are Lynn’s age. I hardly expect that from my father.”

  “Is that something you ever imagined? Dating her, I mean.”

  He laughed harshly. “If you’re suggesting I made a move on my stepmother, a blond bombshell isn’t my type.”

  Tom arched his brows. “Your assessment of the woman seems unduly harsh.”

  Brad merely shrugged so Tom went in a different direction. “Your sister’s death was ruled an accidental death by overdose. Does the drug thing run in your family?”

  Brad stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means drugs played a part in your prior arrest for unruly conduct.”

  “That happened years ago. It has nothing to do with our conversation.”

  Tom disagreed. “Any line of questioning can bring us closer to our goal. There are no wasted journeys in the detection of crime.”

  Brad’s lip curled. “Is that your excuse for bringing up a person’s past?”

  Pat intervened. “I advise you to be straight with the lieutenant. He’s not a patient man. The report shows you were high on Oxycontin. You were later arrested on similar charges.”

  “I got hooked on the stuff when I broke my shoulder playing football at school. I took the pills for pain. After my shoulder healed, I kept using. By that time, my pain was more of an emotional nature.”

  “What emotional pain are you talking about?”

  “My experience at boarding school was less than stellar.”

  “In what way?”

  “When your parents pay a bundle for your education, they have expectations of what you will achieve. Let’s say I fell short of expectations.” His next comment was barely audible. “My parents never bothered to ask if the prep school they sent me to fell short of my expectations.”

  “The school was not to your liking?”

  “The boys were all right. It was more the lack of freedom which I hated. The school I attended was overly concerned with safety, a feature for which my parents paid big bucks. The rules were strict. No walks around the block or going out alone. No game of pickup after class without a monitor being present. The school checked our computers during random searches to ensure we weren’t visiting unsafe sites or giving out personal information on the web. Overall, I found it a very oppressive environment.”

  “Did you board full-time?”

  “I spent Sunday through Thursday there. When I came home on weekends, my parents were busy with social activities. They rarely had time for me. My father only spent time with my sister, grooming her to take over the family business.”

  Tom was tiring of the young man’s attitude. “Was there any facet of your schooling you enjoyed?”

  “The best part was the tight-knit group of guys. Still, it was an insulated environment. Our view of the world was warped by privilege.”

  Pat was curious. “Do you experience dating at an all-boy’s school?”

  “Let me put it this way. I started university with no idea how to interact with the opposite sex.”

  “How would you rate your overall experience?”

  “To be honest, I’m ambivalent about the whole thing now. If my local college had offered a decent education, I would have been happier there and living at home.”

  “Let’s get back to your history of drug use. The last time you were cited, your father’s influence no longer protected you. A judge sentenced you to probation and community service.”

  “Like I said, it was a long time ago. Why are you throwing it in my face?”

  “This stuff doesn’t go away,” Tom told him. “Young people fail to realize that when disregarding the law.”

  “I have yet to see the relevance of these matters to our discussion.”

  “Your probation officer informed us you used forged prescriptions to get the drugs. We wonder if you still use that source.”

  “I stopped taking the stuff. I didn’t like the side effects and I worried about becoming addicted.”

  “Are you telling us that you and the band never indulged?”

  “What can I say? It goes with the territory. Long nights on the road. Adoring fans throwing themselves at you.” He smiled with amusement. “Those drugs were of a less medicinal nature.”

  The detectives exchanged glances.

  Brad spread his arms. “As you see, that life is behind me now. I’m safely entrenched in the drug-free confines of the corporate world.”

  “I might believe you if your tone was less sarcastic,” Tom said. “Do you find this amusing, Mr. Swanson?”

  Brad wiped the grin from his face. “Seriously, I stopped using when I joined the company. Father made clear I would never take over with even a hint of drug use.”

  “That’s not what your family doctor told us. He wrote you a prescription a month ago.”

  Brad’s chin jutted out. “Oh, that. I wrenched my back playing tennis. I could hardly walk the next day. Pills were the only things which got me out of bed.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t fake that injury to get drugs you combined with your father’s heart medication to create a fatal overdose?”

  Brad leaped to his feet. “How dare you accuse me of such a monstrous thing!”

  “Calm down, Mr. Swanson,” Pat said. “If you were a suspect, we’d be having this conversation at the station.”

  Brad’s lips puckered angrily. “You have no right—”

  Tom pointed at his chair. “Sit down, Brad. We’re not finished.”

  • • •

  Before Brad resumed his seat, a man with a receding hairline walked through the door. “Glad to see you’re settling into your new office, Brad.”

  He shot the visitors a quick, puzzled look. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were with someone.”

  Expecting an introduction, he waited.

  Brad’s response was abrupt. “We’ll talk before the staff meeting, Marty.”

  After an awkward pause, the man turned and left the room.

  It was the lieutenant’s turn to look curious. Brad waited until the door closed.

  “That was Martin Becker, my father’s business partner.” He paused. “Soon to become my business partner, I suppose.”

  Pat attempted to empathize. “It will be difficult getting used to the changes.”

  “Thankfully, my father had the foresight to prepare me to take his place.” A cloud veiled his eyes. “Neither of us imagined it would be so soon.”

  “How will you like Becker as a business partner?” Tom asked.

  “I’m used to Martin. I’ve known him for years as a friend of the family. When I was growing up, he was a fixture at our house until he and my dad had a falling out a few years back.”

  “Over what?”

  “Something which involved my sister. At first Emma was embarrassed to tell like it was her fault or something, but I got it out of her.”

  “What happened?”

  “My sister was home for the holidays her freshman year of college. My parents hosted a big bash at our house, same as every year.”

  His gaze drifted to a spot on the ceiling.

  “Christmas is Mom’s favorite time of the year. Dad used to laugh that with all the decorations, there was barely room for us.”

  “What caused the rift between your father and Martin?” Tom asked.

  “That creep came on to my sister.
I saw them grappling. When I appeared, Marty backed off.”

  Pat sought clarification. “Are you saying Becker made a pass at Emma?”

  “I didn’t realize it at the moment because Emma laughed it off. But she wasn’t laughing when we talked after everyone left that night. She told me Marty had too much to drink. Fed her a line about what a beautiful woman she had become. How much he admired her. Crap like that.” Disgust registered on Brad’s face. “Although he was twice her age, he hoped she reciprocated his feelings for her.”

  “How did your sister react?”

  “Emma couldn’t believe it. The whole scene made her want to puke. She reminded him that he was her father’s partner and a trusted friend of the family. Her reprimand brought him to his senses, but their relationship was damaged.”

  “Did Emma tell your father?”

  “She never did, but my father wasn’t blind. After all, she interned at the company. He couldn’t help notice the change between the way Emma and Marty interacted at the office. Emma made their exchanges strictly professional and avoided him at every opportunity.”

  “Were there repercussions?”

  “My father didn’t drop him as a partner, but he invented reasons to stop inviting Marty to the house. Marty was smart enough to excuse his absence by claiming a new relationship took his time. I don’t know if Mother had doubts. She only told Marty she was glad he found someone after so many years of bachelorhood.”

  “How did the incident make you feel toward Martin?”

  “I played the part of the offended brother, willing to give him a piece of my mind and knock him down a peg or two.”

  “Did you?” Pat asked. “Stand up for your sister against Martin, I mean.”

  “It seemed to blow over, and I was glad. The band was being hired for weekend events. Because I was still in high school, my parents wouldn’t let me book a gig farther than two hours away. Still, we were traveling a little. Getting mixed up in family affairs was the last thing I wanted.”

  “Did your sister mention other attempts by Martin to have a relationship with her? Maybe after she married.”

  Brad remained silent as his eyes zeroed in on the lieutenant. “You can’t imagine Marty was responsible for my sister’s death.”

  Tom rested his elbows on Brad’s desk. “Imagine Marty becoming infatuated as he watched Emma blossom into a beautiful, young woman. He dreamed he and Emma would marry and run the company together.”

  Brad shuttered. “The idea of Marty marrying Emma is disgusting.”

  “If your sister met his advances with scorn and humiliated him, maybe he sought revenge.”

  “Marty was like family. What you suggest is preposterous.”

  “Not as far-fetched as you imagine,” Pat said. “Most homicides are committed by someone close to the victim.”

  “It’s crazy to think Marty could hurt my sister,” Brad insisted.

  Tom’s eyes blazed. “No crazier than thinking a son could kill his father.”

  Both men jumped to their feet. The sudden tension was palpable.

  Pat stood between the men, blocking their view of each other. “We’re not here to talk about Emma’s death, Brad. A few more questions and we’ll leave.”

  She placed her hands on Tom’s shoulders and pushed him back in his chair. “Right, boss?”

  • • •

  When everyone was settled, Tom continued. “We need your stepmother’s actions preceding your father’s latest heart problem.”

  “What is this anyway?” Brad snapped. “First, you suggest my partner had something to do with my sister’s death. Next, you imply a son might kill his father. Now, you question my stepmother’s actions. I’m insulted by your insinuations.”

  Tom began to speak, but Pat held up a hand. “We’re as eager to wrap up this inquiry as you, Brad. We need to determine that your father’s near fatality was not attempted murder. Your cooperation goes a long way toward speeding up the process.”

  When Brad sat back, Pat continued. “Let’s start again. Did you notice any unusual behavior on Lynn’s part recently?”

  Brad stroked his chin. A moment passed before he answered.

  “I wouldn’t have remembered without your asking, but there was an odd incident last week…”

  Tom leaned forward. “We’re listening.”

  “I was bar-hopping on State Street. I stopped by the Bobcat Room before the DJ started playing music at the club next door. Lynn and her friend Margo were at the bar. I visited with them while I ordered a drink. When the bartender brought my drink, I moved around the room to talk with friends.”

  “Were you surprised to see your stepmother there?”

  “Not really. I’ve run into her on other occasions. Unless they have social engagements, Dad works late at the office. He doesn’t object to Lynn going out with girlfriends. I think it makes him feel less guilty about not being with her.”

  “What caught your attention that night?”

  “When the music started, I left. Before I went, I noticed a guy talking to them. When the DJ took a break, I returned to the Bobcat for a drink. Lynn was there, but Margo had left.”

  “Was she alone at the bar?”

  “Nope. The same dude was sitting there beside her. It looked like they were arguing. I stayed clear and took a table.”

  “What did Lynn and the stranger do?”

  “I didn’t pay attention. I’ve been trying to score with the cocktail waitress. She had my undivided attention.”

  “How long were they there?”

  “I can’t say. As soon as the break ended, I went back to the dance. When I returned, they were gone.”

  “Did you recognize the man? We need a name.”

  “No can do. Don’t know him.”

  Sensing Tom’s frustration, Pat pushed harder. “Give us a description.”

  Brad scratched his head. “Let’s see. I only saw him from the back, but his hair was dark. No, wait. I think it was closer to bleached blond. Yeah, that’s right. Like a surfer.”

  “Height? Weight?”

  “He was sitting, but I’d say medium.”

  Tom rolled his eyes. “Very helpful.”

  “Do you remember what he was wearing?” Pat asked.

  “Nothing that made him stand out.”

  Tom shook his head and stood to leave. “We’re done, Pat. Let’s go back to the office.”

  “Thanks for your help, Brad,” she said. “If we have more questions, we’ll be in touch.”

  They were almost at the door when Brad called out. “I learned one thing about the mysterious stranger.”

  The detectives turned back.

  Brad smiled, enjoying the lieutenant’s irritation.

  “We’re waiting,” Tom said.

  “I admit to being curious because I know all the regulars. I asked that cute little waitress why I hadn’t seen the dude before.”

  “What did she say?”

  “He just came to town to work on the oil rigs.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  They returned to the receptionist to check in for their next appointment. “Mr. Becker will see you in just a few moments.”

  They stood to one side where they weren’t overheard.

  “What did you think of Brad?” Tom asked his junior officer.

  “That he’s better suited to lead a band than a multi-million dollar software business.”

  “I tend to agree.”

  The receptionist came from behind her desk. “Mr. Becker is ready now.”

  Tom raised a hand. “Don’t bother. We’ll find it.”

  The receptionist pointed to the second floor.

  “Corner office on the right at the end of the hall. Next to Mr. Swanson.” She choked back a sob. “Mr. Swanson, Junior.”

  As they climbed the stairs, they looked out the window and saw people on break playing basketball.

  “Nice place to work,” Tom observed.

  “The only part of it you like is th
e basketball court.”

  He smiled easily without acknowledging her comment.

  They entered an office which featured a high ceiling, built-in cabinets, and a desk too large for the occupant.

  It was easy to see why Martin Becker was the guy behind the scenes instead of running the show. A man of slight build, he was short in ways other than physical. He lacked Sam’s charisma and leadership demeanor.

  Tom held his badge in one hand and shook hands. Martin’s hand was sweaty. Tom rubbed his hand on his pants as he sat down.

  “Thank you for taking the time to speak with us,” he began.

  “I understand you have a job to do, Lieutenant, but I have a busy schedule.”

  “We’ll try to be brief. Our time is as valuable as yours.”

  Sensing Tom’s annoyance, Pat stepped in.

  “I’m sure you have a lot to take care of since Sam’s incapacitation, Mr. Becker. Scuttlebutt indicates you’ll be the person behind the helm of Tech West if Sam doesn’t return.”

  He tried to sound modest but his chest swelled with pride. “That’s not entirely correct. Sam’s son, Brad, will be the chief executive officer. I’ll retain my position as chief financial officer. However, Brad relies on me to keep things running smoothly. He’s not equipped to take his father’s place.”

  “Why do you feel Brad isn’t ready to step up to the plate?” Tom asked.

  “Because Brad waivers between being a spoiled brat and showing potential.”

  “I understand his interest lies in music.”

  Martin’s face registered disapproval. “At one time, Brad held juvenile notions of being a rock star. Thankfully, he came to his senses.”

  “Have you no interest in replacing Sam yourself?” Pat asked.

  Martin voiced a denial, but a twitch in his eye gave him away. He swiveled his chair to look out the window. “As a matter of fact, I did take over the reins while Sam was wallowing in depression after the death of his daughter. I surprised myself by being good at it.” He turned his chair back. “Then Sam talked Brad into becoming involved and I ended up teaching Brad the ropes. But I’m content with my role in the company.”

  His words sounded as false to Tom as the transplanted hair on his head.

  “What about Sam’s wife?” Pat asked. She was interested to see if he would give the same response as Lynn. “Would she become involved in the business in case of Sam’s demise?”