by Lisa Bork
Yellow crime scene tape surrounded the entire acre of Brennan’s lakeside retreat, stopping at the shoreline. At the edge of the lake, a group of uniformed and suited men huddled around a black bag on a gurney. The medical examiner’s wagon was parked within the perimeter, doors open, as though ready to receive its precious cargo. My sister, her husband, and a uniformed officer waited in the shade of a willow tree whose branches swept the surface of the lake, creating ripples.
The Wachobe police chief, whose everyday primary duties involved traffic control and metered parking, allowed us under the tape with strict instructions to see Ray and only Ray.
Cory, of course, wanted to see Brennan and only Brennan. We couldn’t spot him anywhere.
Ray saw us and broke from the huddle.
Cory gestured frantically. “Where’s Brennan?”
“He’s under arrest. Max took him over to the sheriff’s department for questioning.”
“Why?” Cory’s anguished cry caught the attention of the huddle. They swung around to study us for a moment, then went back to their own conversation.
Ray folded his arms across his chest, frowning. “Engle had an urgent message slip from his office in his wallet, with Brennan’s address on it. When I called his office to find out his next of kin, the woman who answered said he didn’t have anyone except his godson. I asked who his godson was. Imagine my surprise when I learned it’s James Gleason’s son. Then I asked her if she knew Engle’s plans for last night. She said they got a call around six thirty, right before they locked up for the night, from a Brennan Rowe, asking to meet with him last night. She said Engle seemed surprised, but indicated he would drive up here. Now he’s dead.”
I had to admit Brennan would make my suspect list, too, but an arrest? “Ray, I don’t see how you can arrest Brennan for his murder. Someone else could have called, using Brennan’s name.”
“That’s true, but there’s blood on Brennan’s dock. There’s blood on Brennan’s oar. It all points to Brennan.”
“What oar?”
Cory sighed. “He keeps one on his boat, in case the engine quits in the middle of the lake or he needs to push off something.”
Ray nodded. “That’s the one. He admitted it was his.”
I swung around to look at Brennan’s ski boat, sitting in its hoist at the end of the dock with the sun glinting off it. Beyond, in the middle of the lake, I saw another glint of metal, too, unrecognizable at this distance. I didn’t let it distract me. “So you think Brennan lured Wayne here, hit him with the oar, and shoved him in the water, hoping he would sink and disappear?”
“That’s the theory we’re working.”
“Someone else could have lured Wayne here just as easily.”
“True, but all the evidence points directly to Brennan at the moment.”
I let it go for now, having faith in my husband. Ray wouldn’t railroad Brennan into prison. He would ask all the right questions, or at least ensure that they were asked. “It would have taken Wayne at least three hours to drive here last night. He probably got here around ten.” I scanned the areas beyond either side of Brennan’s home. “Did any of the neighbors see anything?”
“Engle’s Mercedes is parked on the road at the corner of Brennan’s lot. We’re still canvassing, but the only neighbors with a clear view of Brennan’s dock are seasonal. Their docks are out of the water and their places are locked up tight.”
“What did Brennan say?”
“He said he worked in his office until eleven o’clock, then went to bed. He didn’t see or hear anything last night or this morning when he got up. He didn’t see the Mercedes parked on the county road when he pulled out of the driveway to go to work. A member of his construction crew heard the call to this address on the scanner and notified him. That’s why he came back here.”
Ray unfolded his arms, dropping his bad cop stance. “You need to take Erica and Maury home. They fell out of their canoe. It’s in the middle of the lake. Someone from the department will take the patrol boat out and tow it in later today.”
That explained the glinting metal I spotted earlier. Trust Erica to lose the canoe. Hopefully it wouldn’t capsize in the meantime, forcing me to reimburse our landlord for its loss.
Ray continued, “You’ll be getting a call from the department later today to come in for an interview. We’re going to need to know about everyone you two met when you went to Albany and Binghamton, and what was said. And anything else you might be holding back. Understand?”
I glanced at Cory, immediately giving it away to Ray that we were in fact holding something back.
He shook his head in disgust and walked away.
Cory’s panicky gaze met mine. “What are we going to do?”
I knew he was asking me if he had to tell about going through Brennan’s stuff and the record of payment he found. I gave him the only answer I felt confident about.
“We’re going to drive Erica and Maury home.”
_____
“Brennan’s mouth just dropped open when Ray said he was under arrest for killing Wayne Engle. He even teetered a little bit. I thought he was going to faint, didn’t you, Maury?” Erica whacked her husband on the shoulder.
“He definitely didn’t know what hit him.” Maury emphasized the word “him.”
Erica missed the hint. “That’s right.”
Cory’s gaze never left the road as he steered his BMW toward Erica’s house, but I knew he was taking in our conversation. “Did he say anything when Ray put the cuffs on him?”
“No. He couldn’t take his eyes off the area where Wayne Engle was lying on the beach. I thought Brennan looked sad, didn’t you, Maury?” She whacked him again.
“Yes, Erica, I did.” Maury raised his gaze to mine, silently asking for mercy. I twisted back around in the passenger seat to face the windshield, trying to end the conversation for the time being.
Erica chattered on, oblivious. “I can’t believe you just met Wayne, and now he’s dead. You must have stumbled onto something. Why else would someone kill him? I don’t believe for one second Brennan killed him. He’s too nice a guy. No way. Right, Maury?”
I heard her palm connect with Maury’s shoulder again. This time he didn’t respond.
Cory made the right turn onto Wells Street, and the 1870 white Victorian where Erica and Maury resided came into sight. Cory pulled up in front and put the car in park. He left the engine idling.
Erica leaned forward, thrusting her torso into the front seat between us. “Call me later and let me know what happens at your interrogation.”
“I will call you later, Erica.” Much later, if and when I could take her manic chatter.
Maury waited until Erica had slammed the car door to say, “Let me know if there’s anything we can do to help Brennan. I don’t think he killed anyone either.”
“Thank you, Maury.”
He nodded, a sober expression on his face.
As soon as Maury climbed out of the back seat, Cory pulled away from the curb. “None of Brennan’s friends think he killed anyone. I guess that’s good to know. He’ll have lots of character witnesses. But you know what’s bothering me?”
Cory didn’t wait for my answer before continuing, “Like Erica said, we must have stumbled onto something. Someone killed Wayne Engle; someone we met. If I’d listened to Brennan in the first place and stayed out of all of this, maybe Engle would still be alive. So, no, Brennan didn’t kill anyone, but apparently, I did.”
Once again, I didn’t respond.
I was too busy feeling guilty myself.
SEVENTEEN
SURE ENOUGH, AS RAY promised, my cell phone rang minutes after Cory and I returned to the shop. A terse and unfamiliar voice issued an invitation to come on down to the county sheriff’s department and answer a few questions. I could bring one guest, Cory.
We didn’t talk on the drive over to the county’s public safety building. The building was about thirty minutes outside of Wachobe
, in a much less touristy town. It housed the sheriff’s office, county court, and a forty-cell jail. Flanked by a hospital and a convenience store, the imposing brick and cement facility seemed
impervious to the hustle of traffic outside. I’d been there before several times, but every time I entered the place, I got the creeps. Jail was on my list of places I never wanted to go. Yet here I was.
The officer at the reception desk pointed us to the waiting room chairs. Cory picked the closest and sat with his knee bobbing up and down. He hadn’t asked me again if he should admit to finding Brennan’s financial records, and I hadn’t brought it up either. As far as I was concerned, it was his story to tell. I would join in only if he asked me.
But they separated us. Cory got called in first, leaving me alone in the waiting room. We hadn’t expected that, although we should have. I knew for sure Ray wouldn’t be the one asking me questions now. I just didn’t know who would be.
Twenty minutes later, I remained alone in the waiting room. When the door to the sheriff’s department’s inner sanctum opened, my head snapped up from the magazine pages I’d been idly turning. I expected to see an officer coming for me, but instead Catherine Thomas appeared.
She wore a striking red skirt and jacket, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. The leather of her black stilettos matched her briefcase perfectly and made her seem like a giant, since she stood quite tall barefoot. Three gold bangles adorned her wrist. They seemed to jingle “I’m so pretty.” Once again, she reminded me that she had it all goin’ on.
“Jolene. I’d say it was nice to see you, but I’m representing Brennan. I understand you and Cory are here to provide information about his latest arrest.”
“Unfortunately.”
She shot a glance at the deputy behind the desk, who was fielding a phone call, and settled into the chair beside me, leaning in conspiratorially. “Any chance you want to fill me in?”
“I would, but it might get back to Ray.” Now that Brennan had been arrested in his county, I knew I’d better not talk to anyone until I talked to him or his fellow officers.
She heaved a huge sigh. “Ray won’t tell me anything either. He’s not assigned to the case because you’re involved, and that only makes him that much more uncooperative. He hates it when he’s not assigned to the big cases.”
Our sheriff’s department was small, though our county was relatively large. The sheriff had long ago decided that, in order to keep his tenured deputies motivated, they would rotate assignments between patrol and investigation. This method worked wonders for morale and employee retention, except really interesting cases didn’t come along all that often, a murder almost never. Catherine was right. Ray was irritated to be left out of this one because of me and Cory. I hated that Catherine knew I’d affected my husband’s career negatively.
But a brief burst of happiness flowed through me, knowing my husband wasn’t talking to his ex-lover.
Guilt followed. Call me naïve, but I still believed in Brennan Rowe—and Catherine’s ability to save him from the big, bad sheriff, not to mention the district attorney.
Catherine drummed her red manicured nails on the wooden chair arm. “I can’t believe anyone really thinks Brennan is a murderer. It’s obvious to me this whole thing is a setup. I couldn’t get Ray to admit it, but I’m sure he thinks so, too.”
I remained silent.
She popped up from her chair, still clutching her briefcase. “I’m going out to the car to make a few phone calls. They’re through questioning Brennan until they get Cory’s story and yours. Then they’ll start in on Brennan again. I’m going to line up an investigator for whatever comes to light here today.”
She leaned down toward me. “Listen, Jolene, just tell them the good, the bad, and the ugly. I can’t help Brennan if I don’t know the whole story. Neither can Ray or anyone else. Will you do that for me?”
She didn’t wait for my answer. Maybe she already knew what it was. I wished I did.
The bad and the ugly could cost Cory his relationship with Brennan. It could cost Cory and me our friendship. My business might need to hire a new mechanic. On the other hand, a killer was definitely on the loose in our hometown. Again. Last time he might have been caught sooner if I’d been more open with Ray during the investigation.
When the door opened forty minutes later and they called me in, I felt like I was walking the plank. The sheriff himself, who bears a great resemblance to a most familiar and right jolly old elf, interviewed me along with Max, Ray’s peer. They simply asked for my story.
And I told them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
So help all of us.
_____
Ray was nowhere in sight when I left the department. I wondered if he’d been dispatched to interview any one of the people I’d named or perhaps to get a search warrant signed for Brennan’s home. The sheriff’s eyes had sparkled at the mention of the yearbook and the check registers. Brennan and Catherine were in for a long night. I wouldn’t expect Ray home on time.
Cory was in the waiting room. We walked out to his car in
silence. Only after we were safely inside its cocoon did we speak—simultaneously. “I told them about the check registers.”
We both laughed with relief.
Cory leaned back against the headrest. “I was afraid you wouldn’t tell and you’d get in trouble.”
“I was afraid if I told and you didn’t, you’d hate me.”
“No way, Jo. We go back too far.” He sighed. “I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. I don’t think Brennan is guilty, and the only way they’re ever going to find Wayne Engle’s killer now is to know all the facts. If Brennan hates me forever, then so be it. And if by some bizarre twist of fate, he is a killer then I’m just lucky to find out now before I invest any more in our relationship. The truth will set you free.”
I smiled at the all-too-familiar gift shop quote. We all spent too much time in our tourist town, which had its share of clichés for sale. “I have to admit I feel better, too. Let the professionals handle it. I’m happy to sit this one out.”
“I doubt they’re finished with us yet.”
“I saw Catherine Thomas before I met with the sheriff. She wanted me to tell her the whole story. I wasn’t comfortable telling her then, but now, hey, the sheriff didn’t tell me to keep quiet. He did ask me to stay away from everyone we spoke to. What about you?”
“The same. If Catherine asks again, I don’t see why we can’t talk to her. It’s in the interest of learning the truth, right?”
“Right.” Still, I wondered what Ray would say about that. I’d ask him later.
Cory and I drove back to the shop, stopping to pick up submarines for a late lunch. The answering machine light wasn’t blinking when we entered the shop. We set up lunch on my desk.
I bit into my tuna submarine.
Cory’s roast beef remained wrapped.
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re probably talking to Brennan now, interrogating him.”
I chewed and swallowed. “I’m sure they are. But they’ll figure this out. We were just the catalyst.”
“We must know the killer.”
“I’m sure we do, but for the life of me, I don’t know which person it is.”
Cory shook his head. “We don’t even know for sure if we’re looking for one killer or two. And James Gleason’s death could still have been an accident.”
“The sheriff wanted to get the original of that YouTube video I found on the Internet. He said maybe they could enhance it to see the crowd behind James and Brennan better. Before he let me leave, I had to bring the video up on screen for Max.”
Cory unwrapped his sub and took a bite, mayonnaise dribbling on his chin. “Who do you think killed Wayne Engle?”
“I have no idea.” I reviewed the people we’d met in my head. “I doubt it was Elizabeth Potter’s parents. They’re too old, and the mother seemed to l
ike Brennan. I don’t think she’d want to frame him.”
“Mr. Potter might want to. He seemed miserable—and so did his dog.”
I laughed, trying not to spew tuna.
Cory picked up a tomato slice that had fallen out of his sub and popped it in his mouth, swallowing it in one gulp. “But they were pretty old. What about Matthew Gleason? He was young and strong. We know he was at the race.”
“Why would he kill his godfather? He seemed to like him.”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet his mother.”
“Me, too. She’s my number one suspect. James Gleason was a hothead. They fought all the time. He could have been giving her a hard time about the divorce. Maybe she was having an affair with Wayne, who saw her at the Glen and realized she was the killer after we talked to him.”
“Or maybe Matthew killed his father to protect his mother. We’ve read about cases like that in the paper before.” Cory hesitated. “Do you think the guys at the sheriff’s department are coming up with theories like this?”
“I have no doubt. They probably have even more fertile imaginations than we do.” I chewed my sub. “Matthew admitted he wouldn’t miss his dad. Maybe he didn’t want Wayne as a replacement dad.”
Cory pointed his index finger at me. “Another good theory. Keep going.”
“Elizabeth Potter might want revenge on Brennan for the car crash years ago, but I don’t know why she’d want to kill Wayne Engle, unless he knew she was blackmailing Brennan and threatened to expose her.”
“Why expose her now? The blackmail payments stopped more than a year ago.” Cory swigged his soda.
“If they even were blackmail payments.” I crumpled the sub wrapper and made a basket. “We’re going to drive ourselves crazy trying to piece this all together. Let’s leave it to the professionals for now.”
“I’ll bet you one thing for sure.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t Evie.”
