He chewed the inside of his bottom lip. “You’d think her father would have convinced Constance to do things differently.”
“Daddy’s little girl gets what she wants, so Darius said.”
“It’s too pat. What happened to a woman scorned?”
She winced. “It’s not dead. My actions are proof.”
“Exactly. You reacted from shock, hurt and anger. Wouldn’t a lot of women react the same way?” She shrugged. “Instead, she smiles and says she just wants to forget the whole thing.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t add up.”
“At the time, I was just so happy and relieved my roommate for the next five years wouldn’t be a three hundred pound lesbian with a rings through her nipples I didn’t think anything about it. You may be right.”
Just as they approached the house, the front door opened. Constance stepped out and walked toward the driveway.
Evie crouched even lower in the seat.
“Afternoon, Ma’am,” Simon said through the open window. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“My God, Simon, what are you doing? You’re bringing attention to us.” Evie sunk to the floor.
“Not even a small smile,” he muttered, watching her in the rearview mirror and tapping a finger on the steering wheel. “I wonder where’s she’s off to on a Sunday afternoon without her hubby and kids?” He turned into a driveway and backed out.
“What are you doing now, Simon?”
“What do you think? I’m going to follow her.”
“Is that a good idea? She might recognize me.”
He issued her another of his looks. “I won’t get close, and she won’t expect a tail.”
“I don’t know. Maybe we should head back to Concord.”
He stopped at the entrance to the subdivision. “Oh look. She’s going in the same direction as us. Isn’t that a coincidence?”
She turned and burrowed under the dash.
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a baseball cap in the back seat. Put it on.”
She slithered across the seat, grabbed the hat, shoved it on her head and donned the sunglasses he held in his hand for her.
“The woman drives like Andretti.” He speeded up. “I hope there’re no cops around.”
She sat low in the seat. “Ha! She probably has political immunity.”
“I was thinking about me.”
“Your legs are hairy, but I’m sure if you flash your badge and pearly whites you’ll be able to sweet talk yourself out of a ticket. What cop will be able to resist your braids?”
“Harrumph.”
They traveled at a safe distance behind her, trees and hydro poles whizzing past. A few miles up the road, the right blinker light on the Porsche came on and turned down a tree-lined street. Three minutes later they traced her path. A sign in a field welcomed them to Upham. They followed her down a barren Main Street, passing a barbershop, a clothing store, and a bakery on their right. Offices of dentists and doctors, a diner and a bank with apartments on the upper levels occupied the buildings on the opposite side.
“Where’s she going?” he asked. “Nothing’s open.”
Just then she pulled to a stop at the curb in front Bubba’s Tattoo Parlor and got out of her car. Simon drove into a parking spot four buildings away behind a beat-up pickup truck and watched as she rapped on the door.
“Do you think she’s getting a tat?” he asked, raising a camera to his eyes and taking several pictures of her with a camera Evie didn’t know he had until now.
“How would I know?” This close proximity to Constance made her antsy. “Can we go now?”
After a moment, he made a U-turn in the street.
She looked at the clock on the dash. “Why don’t we check into a motel and have some dinner. I’m starving.”
“Good idea.”
A sigh of relief rushed from her lips. Images of her needing to shoot Constance as she rushed at Simon with a switchblade were sent back where they came from.
“On our way in I noticed a bed and breakfast just outside of Concord. Interested?”
“Sure.” Anything, just so long as they put distance between her and Constance.
“They must have rooms available at this time of year.”
Rooms? “They must,” she said, feeling sad Simon didn’t want to spend the night with her.
One hour and a half later, after acquiring overnight lodging at Sunny Acres Bed & Breakfast, they sat on stools at the counter in Red’s Seafood Restaurant, nursing beers while waiting for a table.
Simon looked around at the pine-paneled walls, the faux artwork, the fishing trophies of stuffed bass and salmon and the fishing nets suspended from overhead beams and the tables made from slabs of tree trunks.
“This is nice.”
“Are you being facetious?” She raised her voice against the din of clashing utensils and laughter.
“Not at all.” His smile told her otherwise. “The food won’t disappoint you.”
“Did you come here with him?”
She shook her head. “With friends from work.”
He looked at her and frowned. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.” She stared at him. He didn’t say it, but that’s why- I-didn’t-want-you-here was written all over his face.
“Sure?”
She nodded.
The smell of steamed clams and boiled lobster made her mouth water and Kenny Rogers singing Islands in the Sun from the jukebox relaxed her somewhat.
“I know this has been upsetting for you. Why did you insist on coming along?”
Because I wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid, like get in trouble because of me. She shrugged. “I thought I could handle seeing her again, but it brought up memories I’d rather not have.” She looked at him. His blue eyes narrowed and the inch long scar at the corner of his mouth whitened.
He gave her a half-smile, meant to be encouraging. “Defy your fears, Evie, and hold your head high in the face of shame.”
“It’s not easy.”
He squeezed her hand. “It’s only as difficult as you make it.”
She wanted to change the subject. “So, first thing tomorrow morning, we see Darius and tell him what we suspect is going on, that Constance might be responsible for two deaths and pump him for info?”
“Something like that.”
“Then?”
“Then we leave. We’ll make a stop in Sibbett on our way back home and talk to Gormley if he’s available, and see if he’s come up with anything on the Coulton murder.”
“Well, hello there,” a voice said over her shoulder. She turned and nodded at the man standing beside her. “Hello.”
“Can I get you another?” He stared at her half-glass of beer.
“No, thank you. One’s my limit.”
“The name’s Ted. What’s yours?”
“Evie. Now if you don’t mind, Ted, I’m here with some—”
“Evie. I love the name.”
She felt a little unsteady on the stool, not from the booze but from being hit on, especially with Simon standing next to her.
Ted wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
Simon took a step backward, looked around Evie and said, “Look, bud, she’s—”
“It’s okay, Simon.” She patted his hand, noticing he looked like he wanted to wrap the man’s arm around his neck. She turned to Ted and smiled. “It looks like you’ve had one too many. Why don’t you take a taxi home and sleep it off?” She took his wrist and placed his arm gently at his side.
“Don’t wanna go home. Wife’s there.”
“Wife?” She shook her head. “Doesn’t anybody honor the seventh Commandment, Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery?”
“I’m an atheist.”
“So that makes cheating on your wife all right? What about your wedding vows?”
He shrugged. “Promises get broken all the time.”
“Get lost before I haul you downtown on a drunk and
disorderly.” She shoved her badge in his face.
Sobering quickly, he held up both hands. “Okay, okay. I was only joking.”
“Yeah, right.” She stared at his retreating back. “Jerk.”
“You were a little hard on him, weren’t you?”
“Not hard enough.” She took a sip of beer, thinking maybe she had been. “I’m a little touchy when it comes to adulterous husbands.”
“I noticed.”
Evie and Simon entered the police station in Concord at eight o’clock the following morning. Even at this early hour it hopped with activity. Phones rang insistently, and officers and civilians carrying mugs or paper cups either huddled in conversation or dragged suspects to desks for statements. Stale coffee and body odor hung thickly in the air. She looked around, hoping to see Shelley, but didn’t.
Simon sniffed the air. “The place smells like a men’s locker. Haven’t they heard about air fresheners, ventilation and air purifiers?”
“Shush.” She couldn’t hold back a smile, happy he was finally his old self. “His office is through the pen against the back wall, Simon,” Evie said over her shoulder. She nodded at the duty officer. “Morning, Lou. We have an appointment with Darius.”
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
Evie unlocked the half-door in the counter and strode through the work area.
Simon leaned close to her. “Do you know that guy?”
“Uh-huh. He’s one of the ones who thought I got off too easy.”
“Cops don’t stick up for one another around here?”
She felt dozens of pairs of eyes on her and remembered Simon’s advice. She held her head high, looked her former colleagues in the eyes and returned nods, smiles and narrowed looks.
Darius, a robust man of medium height with a balding pate, eyes of a hawk and a winning personality stood when they entered his office. “Evie. It’s good to see you. You’re looking well.”
She returned his smile. “Thank you. It’s nice to see you, too.” She turned to Simon. “Captain, this is Simon Wolfe, Honeydale’s chief of police.”
“We spoke on the phone.” Darius extended his hand. “It’s nice to put a face to the voice.”
Simon shook Darius’s hand. “Likewise.”
“Have a seat.” Darius indicated the two black vinyl and metal chairs in front of his desk. He sat, folded his hands on the desktop and looked at Evie. “How’s everything? Gas working out all right for you?”
“Fine, and thanks for the referral. I didn’t have a chance to thank you before.”
He waved a hand in the air, as though brushing off the favor. “He owed me one. I understand you’re on the Honeydale PD now. How’s it going?”
“Good. Mostly, I sit at a desk all day doing paperwork and routing the few calls we get. I’m taking it one step at a time, like Gaston suggested.”
“You’re keeping all your scheduled appointments?”
“Always.” Like he didn’t know. Darius would keep an observant eye on her, mainly because his reputation would suffer if she didn’t follow through on the conditions of her freedom. “I’m only seeing him every second week now, and I expect after the end of this month, he’ll give me a clean bill of mental health.”
“Good. Good.” He stared at the blotter a moment, then looked from Evie to Simon. “Not to rush you, but what was so urgent you had to see me today? Evie was secretive on the phone.”
Simon cleared his throat and crossed his legs. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but there was a man castrated and shot to death in Honeydale recently.”
Darius drew his brows together. “A couple of weeks ago, right?”
“Yes.”
“There was a similar murder in Sibbett, also.”
Simon nodded. “That’s correct.”
“How does the CPD fit in?”
“Twice in the last two weeks, the cottage where Evie lives has been broken into. The first time, money was stolen, and there was evidence of someone rifling through dresser drawers. The second time, the place was ransacked.”
Darius looked from Evie back to Simon. “Kids?”
“That was my first inclination too, but twice now Evie has been mistaken for someone else. A bartender in a joint downtown in Honeydale thought he recognized her as the woman our victim left with the night he was murdered.”
“I’m not following. What do the break-ins have to do with your murder?” Darius looked at Evie, then at Simon.
“Evie told me about the incident with Brad and his wife. It’s possible Constance Hanson is going around town impersonating Evie and trying to frighten her. She may even be our killer.”
Darius blew out a fierce breath and leaned back in his chair.
“How well do you know her, Captain?”
“Not well.” Darius shrugged. “We sometimes attend the same functions.”
“Do you think she’s capable of murder?”
“It’s possible, I guess. Given the right motivation, anyone is capable of killing.” Darius looked at Simon. “You think she’s setting up Evie?”
“Yes.”
“She had a chance to put Evie behind bars and didn’t.”
Simon uncrossed his legs. “Maybe it’s true she didn’t want to see her good name trashed in the headlines, but on second thought, after she had a chance to think it over, she wanted something more than Evie’s resignation from the police force.”
“Any evidence to back up your suspicion?”
“None,” Evie said. We have a partial shoe print from the murder scene and another partial from the cottage. Casts were sent off for analysis.”
“Not that I’m agreeing Constance could be responsible, but have you put her in the time and place?”
“I’m working on it,” Simon said.
Darius checked his watch and stood. “I don’t mean to be abrupt, but I have a meeting in two minutes.” He extended his hand to Simon. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help, but I’ll keep an ear to the ground and let you know if I come up with anything.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Simon shook Darius’s hand.
“Thank you, Captain,” Evie said. “Is Shelley on duty today? I tried to reach her at home, but there was no answer.”
He checked the duty roster. “No, she’s off until Tuesday.”
“How is she doing?”
Darius squinted. “You’re referring to the harassment?”
“I wasn’t sure you knew.”
“Things are settling down a little for her.”
This news heartened Evie. “I’m glad to hear it. No one deserves to go through what Shelley has just because— ”
A uniformed officer stuck his head into the room. “Captain, we got a dead body at the Delkeith on Barrington.
Chapter Twenty-One
After Simon dropped Evie off at her cottage, he spent the following three hours in his office reviewing the case file on Miller’s murder. He ran down some leads, talked to some people who knew some people, but learned nothing new. A break in the case needed to come soon if he would solve it at all. The thought that the murder might go unsolved ate at him like heartburn. On an impulse, he had contacted Jeffrey Barrows, an old friend and a professor in the Faculty of Social Sciences at the SNHU. He hoped Jeff would tell him something he didn’t already know.
This wouldn’t be the first unsolved murder case, but it would be a first for him and for Detective Gormley, too, as it turned out. The Sibbett homicide detective felt as much at a loss as Simon. More so, really, since he had nothing whatsoever to link the murderer to the victim should he have a suspect. At least, Simon had trace evidence.
In his mind, the two murders had serial killer marked over them, and it wouldn’t be long before the public thought that way. Miller’s friends, if he could call them that, thought he wasn’t going anywhere but home when he left work that day. The alibis of each of his coworkers checked out. Did Miller know his murderer? For someone to get that close to him, odds were he did, but his
gut told him no.
Simon peered through his window into the night. Where had Miller met his killer? He read through the evidence and Harley’s report one more time. Nothing surprised him. Nothing jumped out at him. Constance Hanson seemed less and less a likely suspect. Would a scorned woman go to such lengths for payback? Though it made a certain amount of sense, it didn’t fit. Not completely. If it wasn’t Constance, who was it? Right back to square one, he was.
He leaned back in his chair, clicked his pen and stared at his notes spread out across the desk, but his mind focused on Evie. He wondered if she ever saw Brad. By chance? By arrangement? The thought made him jealous. A muscle throbbed in his jaw. His stomach burned like lava. He pulled open his top desk drawer for the bottle of antacids. The photograph of the two of them taken a couple of days before her high school graduation stared up at him. He took it in his hand and ran his finger over her face. Her eyes, alight with her love for him was clearly evident. Never in his strangest imagination would he have thought what they shared would be lost. He had told himself he did the right thing letting her go. He knew what a mistake that had been. Years lost, never to be regained. Could they find that closeness again? Feeling sullen, he put the picture back, popped two antacid tablets in his mouth and chewed. He closed the drawer and decided not to wait for Jeff to call him.
Jeff picked up on the sixth ring. “Jeffers, it’s Simon. What have you got for me?”
“It’s more like what you got.”
“What’s that?”
“A problem.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Simon let out a breath.
“I want to make this clear, this is only a rough analysis.”
“I hear you.”
“Okay, given what you told me, you’re looking for someone, probably a woman, who has some background in law enforcement and knows how the system works, or at least some insight into the legal profession. For the sake of argument, I’ll refer to her as she.”
“Understood.”
“She’s on a mission and is extremely careful about leaving clues behind and is meticulous about what she does. The lack of physical evidence tells you that. She probably holds down, or once did, a job exacting details. Unless she slips, she’ll be difficult to catch. She takes incalculable risks. Being seen with the victim and dumping his castrated body in a field in a populated area was downright ballsy. No pun intended.”
Wolfe, She Cried Page 12
