Midnight Snacks are Murder

by Libby Klein

  Frank dropped the crowbar and raised his hands over his head.

  Officer Amber stood in the garage bay door with two officers and six mechanics flanking her. She had her gun raised to the sky, where she’d fired off the shot. “Frank Trippett, you’re under arrest for the armed robbery of the Wawa on Route 9.”

  “And the murder of Brody Brandt,” I added.

  Amber shook her head. “Nope. Not the murder of Brody Brandt. We have Frank here on the security camera robbing the Wawa at gunpoint, two a.m. the night Mr. Brandt was killed.”

  Frank called me a couple more names that I didn’t care to repeat. The two officers spun Frank around and cuffed him, then led him out while reading him his Miranda rights.

  I pleaded with Amber. “But maybe he did both. We don’t know the exact time Brody was killed.”

  “We know close enough to narrow the window. There is no way Mr. Trippett could have committed both crimes.”

  “But … but you saw he was about to attack me with a crowbar, didn’t you?”

  “A lot of people probably feel that way. It doesn’t make them murderers.”

  “But this one is violent. He beats up his girlfriend.”

  “I know. Who do you think tipped us off? Ms. Furman gave us the names and places of Frank’s usual crew, and we were able to match him to the Wawa job.”

  “So you’re absolutely certain he’s not the killer?”

  “At least not Brody’s killer. Frank has a long rap sheet full of violence and petty theft. We’ll run his fingerprints through the network and see what else pops up. In the meantime, what is someone who was warned not to get involved in a police investigation doing questioning potential suspects?”

  My mouth went dry. “I was just bringing my car in for service.”

  “Then why was he about to slug you?”

  “We disagreed on the price.”

  “Uh-huh. Get out of here, McAllister. Don’t let me find you anywhere near this case again or I might not be able to find my gun so quickly the next time.”

  I stormed out to my car and slammed the door. What is it gonna take to get someone other than a McAllister arrested for murder in this town? I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse. Sure, there you are, now. I was riding on too much caffeine and adrenaline, and it had to burn up somewhere. I dialed Sawyer, who did not answer, again. That’s it. I’m going over there to find out what’s going on with her once and for all.

  I may have broken a few traffic laws driving back into Cape May. I would have to apologize to Gia for my hypocrisy later. I went straight to Sawyer’s bookstore. Through the Looking Glass was on the mall, a few doors down from Momma’s restaurant.

  I parked in the back, fed the meter, walked around, and threw open the front door, ready to call down fire and brimstone on somebody.

  There was Sawyer. Standing behind her register. Fluffing the skirt on an Angelina Ballerina. Not a care in the world. Her eyes met mine and her hand froze like her expression.

  “Sawyer. Is your phone broke?”

  I watched her swallow, and her eyes slid to the stockroom door.

  “What’s going on? You’ve been hot and cold with me for days.”

  I didn’t need her to answer. The good-looking answer sashayed into the room carrying a stack of Nancy Drews. “Hey, Poppy, what’s up?”

  Sawyer examined a piece of fuzz on her slacks to avoid my gaze.

  “Kurt. Shouldn’t you be tending bar at the Ugly Mug or propositioning a co-ed somewhere?”

  “Poppy!” Sawyer shot me a shocked expression and took the books from her ex-husband and placed them behind the counter.

  I couldn’t get over the gall of her tone. “You’re surprised with me? He put you through hell your entire marriage. The only reason I came to Cape May was to support you in case we ran into him at the reunion with his flavor of the week. And we did!”

  “It’s not what you think. Kurt is just helping out because his hours were cut back at the bar.”

  Kurt was your average Cape May beach bum. He’d broken the threshold of his forties without ever having to work a morning shift in his life. He could live out the rest of his days underground, and his tan still wouldn’t fade. I don’t think he owned a shirt with buttons on it, but he could charm the pants off of a soccer mom before she had to be back for snack time to hand out the oranges.

  He ran a hand through his short blond hair. “This tourist season was slower than usual. People just aren’t coming here as much with the economy bad, so we had to make some cutbacks at the Mug.”

  “You’re paying him? He hasn’t even paid your alimony yet.”

  Kurt took a step closer. “Poppy, I know you care about Biscuit here, and I was a terrible husband to her. I’m just trying to make a few things right, that’s all.”

  Sawyer turned pleading eyes to me. “He’s just here to help me with a few repairs, and some restocking. It’s not like I’m sleeping with him.”

  “Then you’re the only one.”

  Sawyer bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “People can change, Poppy.”

  “Beyoncé couldn’t change this fast. Your divorce was just finalized a few weeks ago.”

  Kurt shoved his hands in his pockets. “You don’t gotta believe me, but I’m not out to hurt anyone. I’m just trying to turn my life around, and make something out of myself before it’s too late. Sawyer was helping me make some cash so I could take a couple of night classes.”

  I was still fuming. I couldn’t stand to see Sawyer hurt, and every encounter with Kurt left her broken. But after all the time I’ve spent trying to figure out who Brody Brandt was, maybe some of his sympathy for the downtrodden was wearing off on me. I wanted to believe Kurt. I just didn’t. But I was willing to try for Sawyer’s sake.

  I put my arms around Sawyer and she hugged me back. I whispered in her ear, “Please guard your heart this time. He always has had a way of worming back in there.”

  She whispered back, “I know. I just don’t want to hate him anymore.”

  Kurt gave us both an awkward grin. “Group hug?”

  We both said, “No!”

  “Okay, just asking.”

  Sawyer pulled back to look me in the eyes. “Are we okay?”

  “You and I are okay.” I looked at Kurt. “You and I are not.”

  Kurt held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. Some people can hold a grudge for a lifetime.”

  “A lifetime! You brought a stripper to our high school reunion less than two months ago.”

  “Fair point.”

  Sawyer took me by the arm. “Let’s go sit in the Queen of Hearts room and you can tell me what’s going on with the investigation. How is Aunt Ginny holding up?”

  “You’ll never believe who is watching her right now.”

  “Who?”

  “Joanne Junk.”

  “No way!”

  “I have to pay her ten dollars an hour to do it, but yeah.”

  “Well, don’t that beat all.”

  “I just came from Frank Trippett’s work, where Amber arrested him for another crime. One that absolves him of Brody Brandt’s murder.”

  “Oh no.”

  “And I’m running out of suspects.”

  Kurt came in with a stack of books to load the romance section shelves.

  I said, “Kurt, do you have to do this section now?”

  He looked at me over his shoulder. “Yeah. I can’t hear you from the mysteries.”

  Sawyer tsk-tsk’d, then turned back to me. “Have you found out who might have had a motive? I mean Brody Brandt was a hero around here. Helping all those kids. Getting them off the streets. The county just gave him that award. I just can’t imagine who would want to hurt him.”

  Kurt slid a couple more books on the shelf and moved down a row. “Someone who wasn’t doing as good as him, and didn’t think he deserved it.”

  “What?”

  Kurt continued to shelve books. “You know how it is. P
eople just hate to see anything good happen to their enemies. They want them to wallow in misery their whole life so they get what they deserve.” Kurt tossed me a glance over his shoulder. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

  I felt the heat creep up to my ears.

  He went back to shelving books. “Nobody’s perfect. Everyone’s hurt someone at some point. And no one wants to see the guy that wrecked their life become the town hero and get an award for it.”

  “Oh my God, Sawyer. He’s right. This whole time we’ve been looking at Brody’s present. We should have been looking into his past.”

  Chapter 51

  The sun was low in the sky over North Cape May. Soon the clouds would be pink and gold, and a chill would ride in on the ocean breeze. I had a very small window to talk to Erika Lynch before I had to get home to relieve Joanne. Luck was on my side this afternoon, and Jonathan’s car was parked at the curb. Two for one.

  The front door was open and the television was on, playing Say Yes to the Dress. No one was in the living room, but I could smell hot dogs and macaroni-and-cheese cooking. I miss being seventeen. I knocked on the screen door.

  Erika came around the corner out of the kitchen. She halted when she saw me. “You again!”

  I held up the box I’d gotten from Emilio. “I brought you something.”

  Jonathan rumbled down the stairs like an avalanche. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay away.”

  Erika put her hand on his arm. “Wait, Daddy.”

  Jonathan looked at Erika. “What is it, kitten?”

  Erika looked at me. “What’s in the box?”

  “If you let me in, I’ll show you.”

  Erika opened the screen door, all the while keeping her eye on the box in my hands. Jonathan still had not lost his bluster, even if his daughter had taken some of its force away. “This better be something important.”

  I set the box on the coffee table and pulled out Erika’s statue. “Does this look familiar?”

  Her eyes lit up and she tenderly took the sculpture from my hands. “Where did you find it?”

  “Emilio found it in the Teen Center.”

  She started to tear up. “I thought I’d lost it forever.” She dropped down to the couch and cradled the sculpture in her arms.

  Jonathan sat in a chair across from her. “It’s beautiful, baby. That’s why they gave you a scholarship to that school.” He turned to me. “New York Academy of Art—full ride. My girl’s got more talent in her pinky toe than you or I will ever have.”

  Jonathan watched Erika with so much love in his eyes that it must’ve destroyed him when she came home and told him Brody had molested her. “I heard. Congratulations. I have something else for you too.”

  She brushed a tear from her eye before it could break free.

  I pulled the plaque out of the box and handed it to her. “He was going to present it to you at a special ceremony to show you how proud they all were.”

  Erika read the plaque and she started to weep.

  Jonathan took the plaque from her hands and his face reddened a darker shade than it naturally was. “How dare you bring this—”

  “Daddy. No.”

  “He hurt you, baby. And I won’t have these people—”

  “I lied.” Erika was sobbing now.

  Jonathan’s expression froze. His lips moved but no words came out until he said, “What do you mean, you lied?”

  “I made it all up.” Erika spoke through sobs. “He never touched me. I was in love with him, and I threw myself at him. The one night he had to lock up, I stayed late and told him how I felt. I tried to kiss him and he was horrified.”

  Jonathan’s eyes misted up.

  “He turned me down. I was humiliated. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. So I told you he molested me for revenge. I wanted you to be angry for me. Only you went down there and threatened him, and made it worse. Now everyone knows what I said. And they think he’s a predator and he’s not. I’m the predator.” Erika crumpled to a heap on the couch, clutching her sculpture of Brody.

  Jonathan went to his daughter and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. We all make mistakes. We’ll get through this.”

  Erika sobbed. “And now he’s gone. I can’t even tell him how sorry I am.”

  “I’m sure he knows.” Jonathan smoothed her hair down. He looked at me and said very softly, “I’m sorry I threatened you.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. Any father who loves his daughter as much as you do would have done the same thing.”

  Jonathan tipped his head up to the ceiling and wiped his nose with his hand. “I don’t know about that. I … may have done something awful.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Erika sat up and wiped her face with her shirt. “What did you do, Daddy?”

  “I thought he hurt you, baby. And you wouldn’t let me go to the police.”

  I took a deep breath. This could be it.

  Jonathan looked from Erika to me. “Look, this is a family issue. I appreciate all you’ve done for us but …”

  Erika said, “Just tell her. This whole time she’s only been trying to help.”

  Jonathan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “After Erika told me what happened, I broke into his house and planted a plastic sandwich baggie full of pot.”

  Erika’s jaw dropped open.

  Jonathan nodded. “Then I called the police to report him. I was trying to get him shut down so he couldn’t hurt anyone else. If I couldn’t get him sent to jail for attempted rape, I thought maybe I could get him arrested for having drugs.”

  Not likely from a little baggie of pot. “When did this happen?”

  Jonathan swallowed hard. “The night he was killed. But he wasn’t home when I was there. I bought the drugs from a kid I always see hanging out at the 7-Eleven. Scruffy-looking white kid, full of pimples. Then I drove over to Brody’s address and let myself in with a key I found in a coffee can in the garage.”

  “Okay, so far I’m with you.”

  “I looked around for a place to stick the drugs. Then I saw it. His stupid humanitarian award there on the desk in the living room. That dumb angel statue, mocking me. I set the pot right next to it and got out of there.”

  “Do you know what time that was?”

  “It was nine. I knew he’d be at his NA meeting then.”

  “How did you know that?” I asked.

  Erika took a shuddering breath. “We all knew Brody’s schedule. He never missed a meeting if he could help it.”

  “Where did you go after that?”

  “I was pissed. And a little nervous that I would get caught for planting the drugs. So I went over to my cousin Jimmy’s house to drink beer and lose at poker. Jimmy drove me home sometime around two.”

  “That’s true,” Erika said. “I can vouch for him.”

  Jonathan patted her back. “So can Jimmy. And three other guys.”

  “Why did you tell me you were in Chicago?”

  “To get you off my back. I don’t know you.”

  “Okay, well that’s true.”

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes since my wife died. Some days I struggle to keep my head above water. My wife really did a number on us when she overdosed on painkillers. A friend of mine suggested Erika and I start going to Nar-Anon meetings at St. Barnabas.”

  “What is Nar-Anon?”

  “It’s a support group for family members of addicts.”

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  “Drug abuse doesn’t just ruin the addict’s life, it hurts the whole family. I really wasn’t thinking clearly when I planted the drugs. I just knew my baby was hurting.”

  Erika’s lip trembled. “I’ve done so many things I regret. I wish I could erase the past year and have a do-over.”

  “I know how you feel,” I said.

  “I … I’m sorry. But I egged your house and painted murderer on your
porch.”

  Jonathan reared back. “Erika. Why would you do that?”

  “Because when I heard that Brody was dead, I thought that you killed him, Daddy. Because of what I’d said.” Erika started to cry again. “And I didn’t want you to go to jail. I can’t lose you too.”

  “How did you know where I live? And what made you think to target me? I never told you who was accused of the murder.”

  “Dani and Keisha figured out that it was your aunt who was arrested. And I got Emilio to give me your address. Of course, I lied to him to get it. I told him I needed your help.” Erika turned pleading eyes on me. “You can turn me in if you want to, but you don’t have to tell the police my dad planted that little bag of weed, do you?”

  “I’m not turning anyone in. I’ve cleaned up the porch. There’s no lasting damage. And I won’t tell the police about the drugs unless they ask.” And they won’t ask.

  The Lynches seemed mollified with that answer.

  “So, while I’m here, could I ask you something else? What do you know about Brody’s past?”

  A brief flicker of pain showed behind Erika’s eyes. “Like what?”

  “Did anything happen with him that stands out? Did he do anything or make any enemies who might want to hurt him today?”

  Erika thought about it for a minute. “Maybe. I don’t know anything specific, but he probably made some enemies back in the days when he used to deal.”

  “Deal?”

  Erika nodded. “Drugs.”

  “Brody was a drug dealer?”

  Erika shrugged. “You have to get drugs to do drugs. And there’s only a couple ways to get drugs. Spend money or trade services. When guys trade services it’s usually by being a middleman.”

  Where has this information been for the past two weeks?

  Erika continued, “You know who would know for sure? Brody’s ex-wife. They used to do it together. If he made any enemies, she would know. Heck, she could even be one. He didn’t exactly do right by her.”