Family Sins

by Sharon Sala

  She sighed and wiped her hands on the front of her apron.

  “I’m starting the pancakes now. If Jesse’s not awake already, just tell him what I’m making.”

  Bowie grinned. “And then stand back?”

  Leigh chuckled.

  “Yes. It’s proceed at your own risk, if you get between Jesse and his food.”

  Bowie left the kitchen in a hurry. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he felt like Jesse when it came to Mama’s cooking.

  * * *

  Constable Riordan left the precinct just after eight-thirty with Brady Griffin, the head of his crime scene team, riding shotgun. Two deputies escorted them in a second car. They were on their way to Eden.

  Riordan had called Chief Clayton that morning and asked him to send an officer to meet them at the Wayne residence at nine, and then Riordan had called the Wayne estate. When the maid answered the phone, he identified himself and asked to speak to Jackson Wayne. He heard her gasp, and then she asked him to wait. Moments later he heard someone pick up on an extension, and then Mad Jack’s voice was blasting in his ear.

  “Do you know what time it is? I do not take calls before breakfast!”

  Riordan held firm to his intent. He wasn’t going to be bulldozed by the Wayne family or anyone else when he had a murder to solve.

  “I called early to tell you that I’m on my way over. Please, inform the rest of your family that I expect them all to be there to discuss Stanton Youngblood’s murder. If they are not, I will be visiting them at their places of business.”

  Jack Wayne cursed. “You do not threaten me or mine!” he shouted.

  “No, Mr. Wayne, you do not threaten me or my authority. I am investigating a murder in which someone from your family was named as the killer. The fact that one of you was involved in the death of a good man is not my problem. It’s yours. Do we understand each other?”

  “I have connections and will not allow—”

  “If you’re referring to our illustrious governor, know that I have already replied to his request regarding you, and once it was pointed out to his office that he might want to distance himself from protecting a murderer, he understood the situation so much better. We will be there around 9:00 a.m.”

  “Our lawyer will be here,” Jack fired back.

  “This is strictly an interview to get everyone’s statement regarding the day of the murder, but maybe you know something I don’t. So am I to take your insistence on legal representation as an admission of your family’s guilt?” Riordan asked.

  Silence.

  Riordan guessed Jack was thinking that over.

  “No, of course not,” Jack finally said.

  “Then we will see you soon.”

  “We? Who’s ‘we’?”

  “My team and I,” Riordan said, and hung up.

  It wasn’t that Riordan was afraid of the Wayne family, but he was afraid of what they might do, and the more witnesses he had to their behavior, the better this interrogation would go.

  What he regretted was that he’d hesitated to do the right thing, and if it hadn’t been for Bowie Youngblood’s angry call, he probably still wouldn’t be doing this, which was his fault. If he’d done this to begin with, he wouldn’t be starting on the wrong foot.

  But after Bowie’s second call and the news that Stanton had paid off the loans belonging to his brother and sister, meaning that the land the developers needed for the resort was no longer available, Clayton’s call about the picketers had suddenly made a lot more sense.

  At that point Riordan had called the bank to confirm the information with the president of the bank in Eden, who’d told him that, yes, they’d sold the loans to East Coast Lenders, Inc. He said when they began foreclosures on some of the notes, he was surprised, but had no say in the matter. He’d also confirmed that Stanton Youngblood had paid off his siblings’ loans on several pieces of property, which he only knew because Stanton had mentioned it to him when he cashed in some IRAs to cover the loans. Those properties were in the same area as the planned resort.Riordan knew if that had delayed or even stopped the developers from building, then he had the motive that he’d been missing.

  At that point he’d called in and had one of his officers research the ownership of East Coast Lenders, Inc., as well as the names of the investors on the property at the lake. When he got the call back with information, he wasn’t surprised to learn Wayne Industries was an investor in the resort development and also owned East Coast Lenders.

  The ride to Eden was mostly silent, with both men lost in thought. The magnitude of what they were about to do wasn’t lost on either one of them, because they both knew the Wayne family had the power and pull to make their lives miserable as hell if they so chose.

  By the time they reached the city limits, Riordan’s gut was in a knot. CSI Griffin had been reading over his notes from the crime scene, so that it was all firmly in his mind. If anyone said anything incriminating, Griffin would know.

  * * *

  When Jack realized Riordan had just hung up on him, he was livid. Furious, he left the library, yelling loudly for everyone to get the hell out there and listen to him. One by one, the family emerged from their rooms to rush to the head of the stairs.

  Blake was only half-dressed as he ran out, and when he saw his uncle at the bottom of the staircase, he called down, “What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Charles?” Jack shouted.

  Charles came out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a big bath towel wrapped around his waist.

  “I’m here! I was just getting out of the shower. Is something on fire?”

  “Nobody leaves the house this morning,” Jack announced.

  Justin frowned. “But I was supposed to—”

  Nita shrugged and cut him off. “I wasn’t going anywhere anyway.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Blake asked again.

  “Constable Riordan is on his way here with ‘his team.’ He’s coming to take our statements about the day of Youngblood’s murder.”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed angrily. “I thought you said you spoke to the governor about this?”

  “It appears the governor has decided to distance himself from our unsavory situation. So one of you has put all the future of this family in jeopardy! The constable will be here around nine. Make sure you are all available, and don’t confront him in any way or do anything to make yourself look guilty. I’m going in to breakfast. Feel free to join me.”

  He turned and strode into the dining room, leaving the rest of them staring at each other.

  Blake threw up his arms and went back to his room. The others quickly followed suit, leaving Charles at the top of the stairs alone. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he, too, went back to get dressed. This had certainly put a damper on the good mood he’d been in from last night.

  * * *

  Bowie drove into Eden just before nine with his brothers in their separate vehicles right behind him. The convoy of Stanton Youngblood’s sons was duly noted by the citizens of Eden, and when all four vehicles headed for the Wayne estate, curiosity grew. Then news began to spread that the Youngblood brothers were parked outside the gate to the estate. Before long, a small crowd began to gather a short distance away.

  Aidan glanced over his shoulder as he joined his brothers beneath the shade of a large elm near the sidewalk.

  “We’re drawing a crowd,” he said.

  The others turned to look.

  Bowie’s eyes narrowed. “I hope the sight of those people ticks every one of them off,” he said.

  “So do I. I hope they get as hot as this day is getting,” Michael said, and pulled a band from the pocket of his pants and tied his hair back in a long ponytail at the nape of his neck.

  Aidan’s hair was already in a ponytai
l, and Samuel’s was in a long loose braid.

  Only Bowie’s was still loose. His hair was so straight and so black that from a distance he could have passed for Native American, but his tan was from countless hours outside on the oil platforms, rather than genetic. He’d taken after his mother’s people. Scottish to the core. And now those people had become the enemy.

  “It’s nine fifteen,” Aidan said.

  Then Samuel pointed up the street. “And here they come,” he said.

  The brothers turned and watched the duo of county police cars as they neared the gate. They saw the startled expression on the constable’s face as he recognized them, and then he quickly looked away.

  “I guess he didn’t think you were serious, because he looks shocked that we’re here,” Michael said. “Oh, here comes one of Eden’s officers, too.”

  Bowie didn’t say anything. He just kept watching as the police cars drove past them, then down the driveway, finally pulling up at the main house.

  “Since it took him ’til the third day after Daddy’s murder to get here, I’ll be curious to see how long it takes to get everybody’s statements,” Bowie said, and proceeded to make himself comfortable on a bench beneath the tree.

  His brothers joined him, and for a few moments they were silent, each man lost in his own thoughts about the tragedy. Then Bowie spoke.

  “Tell me about what went down after the police arrived on the scene. Did any of you hear them talking about any evidence they found?”

  “Well, it was Samuel who found the shell casing from the shooter’s rifle,” Aidan said.

  Samuel nodded, then added, “I also found footprints. Mama asked me to trail them, which I did. They ended almost a mile down the mountain where he got on a motorcycle and rode off.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared down at an ant carrying a leaf across the grass at his feet. “Can we assume Mama isn’t in danger, too?”

  The shock on his brothers’ faces was sudden.

  “That never crossed my mind,” Aidan said. “Now there’s just her and Jesse at the house.”

  “We need to make sure she doesn’t go rambling off in the woods until this is over,” Michael said.

  “I’ll mention it to her when I get home,” Bowie said.

  “It’s gonna make her mad,” Aidan said.

  Bowie shrugged. “Mad is good if it keeps her safe.”

  After that, conversation ended, but the crowd at the end of the street continued to grow.

  While the people in the crowd were all curious to see if the constable left with a suspect in custody, the Youngblood brothers weren’t nearly that optimistic. For all they knew, the constable was letting the Wayne family run the show.

  Nine

  As ordered, the Waynes were present and seated in the library. Except for the ice tinkling in Fiona’s bourbon and Coke, the room was completely silent. The fact that Fiona was already drinking spoke to her anxiety.

  Mad Jack sat in the chair behind the grand desk, wearing a gray Gucci suit and a pink shirt. With the shock of white hair combed into a semblance of order, he posed like a king on his throne, glaring at his subjects.

  The others were all seated in separate chairs, as if no one wanted to be too close to anyone else, afraid of guilt by association.

  Blake’s frown contradicted the casual style of his dark slacks and white shirt. The sleeves were rolled up a couple of turns past his wrist, and he’d left two buttons open at the collar. He had his laptop balanced on his knees, hoping he looked more at ease than he felt. His belly was churning with every keystroke as he ran through the latest figures from the New York Stock Exchange.

  Justin had come down in a navy and silver robe over white silk pajamas—his silent rebellion against Mad Jack’s earlier demand to get dressed—and was pretending to read the New York Times on his iPad. He couldn’t help thinking that Leigh had orchestrated this inquisition, and he resented the hell out of his twin for that.

  Charles was wearing designer sweats in a startling cardinal red, his head down, his entire attention seemingly focused on his phone and the text he was composing.

  Nita was in white slacks and braless under a nearly sheer summer blouse that was bordering on indecent. At first glance she appeared to be reading a book, although she hadn’t turned a page in almost fifteen minutes. She was daydreaming about sex with Andrew, and the excitement from the daydream had translated into a high pink flush on her cheeks.

  Fiona had chosen a demure sundress with huge white lilies on black, a walking homage to Georgia O’Keeffe. She had bypassed breakfast for the bourbon and Coke, and was about to refresh it when they heard footsteps in the hall.

  They all looked up as Frances, the maid, walked in.

  “Constable Riordan to see you,” Frances said, and made a quick exit as Riordan and his team entered the room.

  Blake closed his laptop and stood, as if to initiate the conversation.

  The action irked Jack, who quickly took charge. Last time he’d looked, he was still the head of this household.

  “Well, we’re here, Riordan. Feel free to begin at any time,” Jack said.

  Riordan eyed the assortment of family members and handed Jack a search warrant.

  Forgetting his own warning to play it cool, Jack bellowed, “What the hell is this for?”

  “We’re confiscating all rifles registered to anyone in the family and taking possession of the motorcycle registered, as well.”

  “Well, you can look until hell freezes over, but you won’t find any guns here. Guns have never been allowed in this house. And I don’t know anything about a motorcycle, but I do know there’s not one on these premises, so knock yourself out.”

  Riordan ignored him and nodded at the two officers he’d brought with him.

  “Proceed,” he said, then turned to the family. “Until this case is solved, you are not to leave the area. You may not travel out of the country, so I’ll need your passports before I leave. I will speak to you one at a time, and when I am finished, you are not to return to this room. At my request, Chief Clayton sent one of his officers to assist me. He will stay here in the library to carry out my orders. I want no communication between any of you until my men and I have left the house, and I want all of your cell phones left on the desk when you exit the room. Is there another room I can use to take your statements?”

  Jack’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue.

  “Blake, he can begin with you. Show him to the game room. There are plenty of tables and chairs in there for him to choose from.”

  Blake left his phone on the desk and led Riordan and Griffin out of the library without comment, then down the hall about thirty feet to a doorway on the right. He turned on the light as he entered, revealing a room papered in red-and-gold stripes, with gold draperies and a fleur-de-lis pattern in the matching red-and-gold carpet. All the furniture, from the chairs at the poker table to the theater seating in front of the giant-screen television at the end of the room, was black.

  “This will do fine,” Riordan said. “Mr. Griffin, if you will set up the video equipment and prepare for fingerprinting, we’ll get started.”

  CSI Griffin quickly unpacked the case he’d been carrying and within a few minutes had the digital recorder ready to go, then set up what he needed to fingerprint the suspects, as well.

  “Ready when you are, sir.”

  Blake moved to the fingerprint setup, struggling with the fact that he was being fingerprinted like any common criminal, and when they were finished he sullenly took a seat. He took a deep breath and tried not to look as antsy as he felt with a video camera aimed at his face.

  Riordan began with a request to have him state his name, age, place of residence and occupation.

  Blake’s defiance was obvious as he answered th
e questions with his chin up and his eyes fixed on Riordan’s face.

  “Do you know why we’re here?” Riordan asked.

  Blake nodded.

  “Please, state your answers aloud,” Riordan said.

  “Yes, you’re here to question us about the death of Stanton Youngblood,” Blake said.

  “No, I’m here to question you about the murder of Stanton Youngblood,” Riordan countered.

  Blake flushed as Riordan continued.

  “What relation was Stanton Youngblood to you?”

  “Legally, my brother-in-law,” Blake said.

  The questioning continued, with Riordan asking Blake to explain the ill will between the Waynes and their sister’s family, asking if there had ever been a threat made against the victim’s life.

  “Yes, there was a threat, but that was over thirty years ago, when she married against our father’s wishes, but we haven’t had any contact with her or her husband since.”

  Riordan went through another list of questions, tailoring them to match the way Blake answered, until he got down to the murder weapon.

  “Who owns a 30-30 hunting rifle?”

  Blake’s heart skipped a beat as he realized they’d already identified the weapon, but he shrugged.

  “I’m sure the family owns guns, but as Uncle Jack already stated, there are no guns under this roof, nor have there ever been. Mother wouldn’t have it, and our father always catered to her wishes.”

  Riordan caught a hint of a smirk in Blake’s quick response, as if he was all too willing to share that information.

  “Then where does the family store their weapons? Because our research shows that there are quite a few registered to the family corporation.”

  “I’m not sure. Hunting isn’t my thing.”

  “Can you shoot?” Riordan asked.

  Blake hesitated a moment too long before he answered.

  “Well, yes, but I don’t care for the sport.”

  “Where is the motorcycle that belongs to the family?”