“I understand,” Hank said. “And we did everything we could to find your husband.” He sighed. “But we couldn’t protect him if we couldn’t find him.”
Tammy sat up straight. “If you could have proven his innocence, he would’ve come forward, and he wouldn’t be dead now.”
Hank sat back and nodded slowly. “We did all we could, Mrs. Norton. I’m sorry about your husband. I truly am.”
“Then find out who did this. Find out who killed my husband.” Tammy’s voice had a hint of anger in it. “He’s dead and can’t defend himself, so it’s up to you.”
Hank took a couple of slow breaths. “I’ll do all I can to get at the full truth. You’re going to have to trust me on that.”
Her face softened and she dropped her head, sobbing. Through short, quick breaths, she managed to say, “I’m sorry, Detective. I know it’s not your fault.”
Hank remained quiet. He was used to taking the blame on occasion and didn’t take it personally. It was all part of the grieving process.
But he couldn’t rule out Norton as a murderer yet. Norton was killed long after Shaft, and he had motive, means, and opportunity—not to mention the mountain of evidence against him.
The sobs subsided and Hank asked, “Mrs. Norton, did your husband contact you in any way since Monday?”
The pain in her eyes seemed to grow more intense. “He went to work as usual and that was the last I saw him.”
“He never called you?”
“No.”
Hank considered telling her about her husband’s phone call to Annie and then decided it would serve no purpose. It would have to come out eventually, but now wasn’t the time.
Tammy raised her head, took a shaky breath, and asked, “How was my husband killed?”
“He was shot. Once in the heart. He would’ve died immediately and not suffered.”
She nodded almost imperceptibly, the tears welling up again. “Where … where did you find him?”
“Down by the railway tracks. Investigators are still processing the scene, but it appears he was killed elsewhere and then taken down an access road and left near the tracks.”
“Dumped like a piece of garbage,” Tammy said, her lower lip quivering.
“It appears that way.” Hank fidgeted uncomfortably. “They’ve taken him to the city morgue.”
Tammy focused her pain-filled eyes on Hank. “They won’t have to perform an autopsy, will they? I’d hate to think of my husband …” Her voice trailed off and she took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t want my husband to go through that.”
“It might not be necessary. The clear cause of death was a gunshot wound, but I’m afraid I can’t guarantee you there won’t be an autopsy. That’ll be up to the medical examiner to determine.”
“I don’t know what good it’ll do, but if it will help find Michael’s killer, then …”
“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll talk to the ME about that. In the meantime, you’ll need to identify the body,” Hank said, and added quickly, “There’s no doubt it’s him. It’s just a formality.”
Tammy nodded. “I need to see him again.” She wiped away a tear. “I’m having a hard time accepting this. I guess seeing him will help.”
“I’ll contact you as soon as the body’s ready,” Hank said, as he stood. “In the meantime, I’m giving this my full attention. I’ll be sure to let you know anything we find out.”
Tammy stood. “Thank you, Detective. Please find my husband’s killer and prove his innocence.”
“I’ll do all I can,” Hank assured her. He made his way to the front door, let himself out, and Mrs. Shaft closed the door behind him.
He was glad the most uncomfortable part was over, but now he had to find a killer—or two.
Chapter 31
Wednesday, 5:43 p.m.
ANNIE HAD LISTENED to the phone call from Michael Norton again and was going over her notes. Norton’s murder put a whole new slant on the case, and she hoped looking at things from a different angle would reveal the missing pieces of the puzzle.
The doorbell rang and she sat back, working a crick from her neck before stepping into the living room. Jake and Matty had been here a moment ago but had suddenly disappeared.
She went to the door and pulled it open. Now she knew why Jake had mysteriously vanished. He must’ve spied the caller through the living room window, and he and Matty would likely now be found holed up in the garage, fixing something that didn’t need fixing.
The woman who stood outside looked a lot like Annie—the same midlength, blond hair, blue eyes, and slim figure. But she was somewhat older, and the sour look permanently imprinted on her face camouflaged her once attractive features.
“Hello, Mother,” Annie said. “What brings you here?”
“Are you going to let me in?” Alma Roderick asked.
Annie stepped back and her mother bustled into the foyer, leaned in for an air kiss, and then strode to the kitchen. Annie followed.
“I’m on my way home from work, dear. I wanted to see if you were all right.” Alma took a seat at the kitchen table.
“You could’ve called,” Annie said.
Alma ignored the snide comment as she cast a probing gaze around the room. Finding nothing out of place, her eyes rested on her daughter. “And where’s my grandson?”
Annie took a guess. “He’s in the garage with Jake. They had to fix something that was uh … broken.”
Alma sniffed and her voice turned to one of concern. “I do hope everything is all right between the two of you. I know you’re both gone all hours of the day and night. This crazy job of yours can put a strain on any marriage.” She gave Annie a know-it-all look. “I hope you aren’t neglecting Matty? A child needs his mother.”
“A child needs his father as well,” Annie said flatly. “And Matty’s with Jake now.” Annie wanted to roll her eyes and shake her head but her mother’s piercing gaze stopped her. Instead she smiled as pleasantly as she could and asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mother?”
“Goodness, no. I can’t stay long. Your father will be home soon and he’ll be wanting something to eat.”
That was good news. A few minutes with her mother would be enough to last a week.
Annie racked her brain for something to say. Finally, “How are things at work?”
“Not so bad now that I’m there. Goodness, before I started, the place was in such a shambles. People coming without appointments, others not showing up when they should.” She shook her head, her lips in a straight line. “I don’t know how they ever stayed in business.”
Annie smiled. She knew the hair salon where her mother worked part time was a thriving business many years before her mother started, and would likely be there many years after she was gone.
The doorbell rang again and Annie hoped it was the men in white coats coming for her mother.
No such luck. When she opened the door, a microphone was pushed at her and the voice of Lisa Krunk asked, “Mrs. Lincoln, I wonder if I may ask you a few questions?”
Annie hesitated and looked at Don, standing beside Lisa, holding the camera, its red light already glowing. She knew anything she said, even a refusal, was liable to be on the news, so she forced a smile and said, “I have a few minutes.”
She glanced toward the kitchen. It would be best to keep her mother unaware of this, so she stepped outside, closed the door quietly, and looked at Lisa.
Lisa smiled tightly. “Mrs. Lincoln, I understand you and your husband are investigating the murder of Werner Shaft. Can you tell me about any progress you might’ve made?”
Annie thought quickly. The truth was, as far as she was concerned, they hadn’t made any progress yet. “This case is still ongoing, and though there are persons of interest, there’s no solid suspect at this point.”
Lisa continued, “I understand Michael Norton was found dead. He was a suspect in the case, and now with his murder, are you looking elsewhere? And do you
have a suspect in his murder?”
Annie knew Lisa had people everywhere, and wasn’t surprised the reporter found out about Norton so quickly. “I don’t have anything to add. The police are looking into Michael Norton’s death, and it might be better to direct your questions to them.”
“What about the attempts on the lives of you and your husband, Mrs. Lincoln?”
“The man who attempted to harm my husband and me has been apprehended.”
From the corner of her eye, Annie saw the door open. She turned her head to see her mother standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.
A hint of a smile appeared on Lisa’s lips and she swung the microphone toward Alma. Lisa and Annie’s mother had met in the past, and there was no affection between the two of them.
“Mrs. Roderick,” Lisa said. “Has there been any attempt on your life, or do you feel this has put you in any danger?”
Alma raised her chin. “My daughter has a dangerous job and she does it well. When people like you come around, it can only result in making things worse. Of course we’re all in danger. Why, only a few weeks ago, I was confronted—”
Annie put her hand over the mike and stepped between Lisa and her mother. “Lisa, I’m trusting you anything my mother says is strictly off the record. I don’t mind giving you a short interview from time to time, but please keep my family out of it.”
Lisa narrowed her eyes as if considering that. Then she nodded curtly. “Fair enough.”
Annie removed her hand from the mike. “As I said, the police have not made an arrest in the murder of either Werner Shaft or Michael Norton. It’s still an ongoing investigation, and there’s nothing else I can tell you at the moment.”
Alma backed from the doorway and the door slammed behind her, making Annie jump.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln,” Lisa said, forcing a smile. She signaled to Don and the red light blinked off.
Annie stepped back in the house as Lisa and Don turned and made their way back to the Channel 7 News van.
“You shouldn’t talk to those people,” Alma said, when Annie returned to the kitchen. “You don’t need to get your face out there for every crazy to see.” She moved into the hallway. “I must go now. Please be more careful.”
Annie watched her mother march out the front door, then shook her head and went to the garage. Jake sat on a wooden box, fiddling with something that appeared to have come from a car engine. Matty stood beside him. They looked up when Annie entered.
“You guys can come out of here now,” she said. “The danger is past.”
Chapter 32
Wednesday, 7:05 p.m.
HANK FELT WEARY. It had been a long day following a late night the evening before, and combined with the emotional events of the day, he was ready for a long rest.
But his mind wouldn’t quit. He ran the facts of the case over and over in his head, trying to devise a working scenario he could run with, but nothing seemed to fit.
His desk was littered with folders, printouts, and reports, each one holding pieces of the puzzle he couldn’t bring together into something cohesive.
He plugged the flash drive Annie had given him into his computer and listened intently to her conversation with Michael Norton. The caller put the blame squarely on the shoulders of Rocky Shaft for the murder of Werner Shaft.
Other than that accusation, the only thing pointing to Rocky was his threat to kill Norton. It was reason enough to question him further, but unless an interview revealed something incriminating, he had no reason to hold him.
Hank dug through the stack of folders, pulled out the report on Rocky Shaft, and flipped it open. Shaft had a record of an assault that took place many years ago. He served thirty days, was released, and stayed clean since. That offense, combined with the threat on Norton, could mean he had an anger problem.
It could also mean Shaft’s threat was due to the grief of his brother’s death. Any good lawyer would argue that.
Hank sat back and closed his eyes. If Rocky and Werner Shaft, along with Norton, were involved in the drug money heist Norton mentioned, and the dealers were out for revenge, that could explain everything—except the evidence against Norton for Shaft’s murder.
He opened his eyes, leaned forward, and made a note to get King to check on any heist that might’ve taken place in the drug world a few months ago.
He looked at his watch, picked up the phone, and called Rocky Shaft. Shaft just got home from work, and though at first he balked at a visit from Hank, he gave in and agreed to an interview. Hank didn’t see the need to bring him in to the station. He wasn’t going to arrest him. Besides, Hank might have a few questions for Maria Shaft as well.
Detective King had left for home some time ago. Hank didn’t care to have him in on this interview, anyway. He wanted to keep it civil, and King had a way of putting people on edge at the wrong time.
He swept together the reports and folders, tucked them into his briefcase, and left the quiet precinct.
When Hank arrived at the Shaft residence, Maria’s dark-green Mazda wasn’t there. The only vehicle in the driveway was a red Ford pickup. Rocky had been at work the last time Hank visited, but from the printouts, he knew the vehicle was Rocky’s.
Hank parked at the curb, grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat, got out, and went to the pickup. There was a tarp in the back, neatly folded. There wasn’t much else there. A spare tire, a length of nylon rope, a red, metal toolbox. Hank wanted to lift the lid but that would constitute an illegal search. He wondered if the box held more than screwdrivers, wrenches, or pliers.
He turned, strode up the pathway, and rang the bell. Rocky Shaft answered the door after the second ring, stepped back, and beckoned him in.
“What’s this all about?” Shaft asked after they took a seat in the front room. “Did you find my brother’s killer?”
Hank snapped open his briefcase and laid it on the couch beside him. He looked at Shaft. “I’m afraid I have nothing conclusive to report, Mr. Shaft. We’re still looking into the evidence, but I have a few questions for you.”
Shaft sat back, frowned, and crossed his legs. “Fire away. And call me Rocky.”
“Rocky, this afternoon Michael Norton’s body was found. He was murdered.” Hank eyed the man closely, watching for his reaction.
Rocky’s eyes shot open and he stared at Hank, unblinking. “I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with that?” he asked at last, his eyes narrowing.
“You threatened to kill him,” Hank said.
Rocky sighed. “Yes, I did.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “I was angry because I think he killed my brother. But I didn’t mean it.”
“Perhaps not,” was all Hank said. He reached into his briefcase, removed a folder, and flipped it open. “Mr. Shaft … Rocky, on the evening of your brother’s murder, you left work at 7:00. Where did you go after that?”
“I came straight home.”
“And yet, when I called that evening, no one answered the phone.”
“I live in the basement apartment. I was down there and I wouldn’t have heard the telephone.”
“Were you alone all evening?”
“Yes, I was.” Rocky frowned. “Do you think I had something to do with my brother’s death?”
“I’m trying to fill in the blanks,” Hank said. He flipped over a page in the folder, studied it a moment, and asked, “Where were you today between the hours of 12:00 noon and 3:00 pm?”
“I was at work.” Rocky paused. “I went out for lunch at 12:30 and was back by 1:30.”
Hank pulled out a pen and made a note. “Where did you go?”
“Marcy’s Deli. Down the street from where I work at Richmond Distributing.”
Hank made another note. “Did anyone see you there?”
Rocky shrugged one shoulder and sat back. “It’s a busy place. I have no idea.”
“Do you have a receipt for the meal?”
; Rocky’s face darkened and he spoke sharply. “I don’t keep the receipts.”
Hank nodded, made a note, and flipped another page. “Do you own a gun, Rocky?”
Rocky’s nostrils flared. “No.”
Now for the big question. “What can you tell me about the drug money heist you were involved in a few months ago?”
Rocky seemed genuinely bewildered. “What are you talking about?”
Hank waved the paper. “According to this, you, Werner, and Michael Norton, heisted some money from drug dealers.”
Rocky exploded from the chair. “I don’t know where you got that information, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was never involved in anything like that.”
“Relax, Mr. Shaft,” Hank said, waving toward the chair. “Sit down, please.”
Rocky folded his arms, his face reddening. “I don’t have to sit down. This interview is going nowhere, and you’re accusing me of things I had nothing to do with.”
Hank looked up at the angry man and spoke calmly. “I’m not accusing you. I’m asking about allegations others have made.”
“Do I need a lawyer?” Rocky asked, his thick brows in a tight line.
“Not unless you’re guilty of something.”
“The only thing I’m guilty of is trying to find out who killed my brother.” Rocky’s voice became shrill. “I don’t care who killed Norton. Frankly, I’m glad he’s dead, because I think he killed my brother, and you’re wasting my time.” He pointed toward the foyer. “This interview is over. Please leave.”
Hank packed up his briefcase, snapped it shut, and stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Shaft. I’ll be in touch with any developments.”
The door slammed behind Hank as he left the house. He wasn’t sure what he’d gotten from this interview, but one thing was certain, Rocky Shaft was a very angry man.
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