“Can I offer you anything?” she asked as she reached into a mini-refrigerator that had been built into the wall next to a wet bar.
“No thank you,” I answered, though Kimball and I probably had the same thought of regret at the sight of the Sam Adams Seasonal brew lining the shelves.
She took a long pull from an exotic-looking water bottle before sitting behind her desk. Kimball and I followed suit in adjoining armchairs.
“I couldn’t go into work today,” Bethany said in a tone laced with genuine sadness. “It’s just too much to believe that something like this could happen to her. Marisol was honestly the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And she was the best mom too.” She covered her mouth to stifle a sudden gasp. “Dana and Christina. Those poor girls. Have they been notified?”
I nodded. “I paid them a visit earlier this morning.”
“How are they holding up?”
“As bravely as two young teenagers can under the circumstances.”
“I need to reach out to them as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure that would be appreciated. They spoke very highly of you.”
The strain in Bethany’s face eased slightly. “I’m glad to hear that. I do miss them.”
Kimball looked at me and rubbed his chin, the high sign to get the interview moving.
“They told me that the circumstances of their mother’s departure from here were somewhat acrimonious.”
Kimball promptly stopped rubbing his chin.
“Acrimonious is a very strong word,” Bethany replied with a hint of discomfort.
“I use that word only because her termination was very much unexpected.”
“It certainly wasn’t anything I wanted to happen.”
“Can you expand upon that at all?” Kimball asked.
“Is my husband aware that you’re here?”
Kimball and I glanced at each other before I turned back to Bethany.
“No ma’am. This is a fluid investigation and we’re following up on the few leads we have as quickly as we can. There wasn’t much time to consult him. I hope that won’t be a problem.”
“It’s not a problem at all, Detective Priest. I understand and appreciate your urgency. I’m only asking because if you want to get the full story of why Marisol is no longer employed here, you’ll have to get it from him. I only have his version of events to draw from.”
“And what is Commander Brandt’s version of events?”
She blew out a deep, mournful breath before answering. “My husband claims that he came home one day unannounced and caught Marisol in our office going through his personal file cabinet.”
Kimball looked to me for a follow up question, but I couldn’t come up with one. This was already differing wildly from what I’d previously known to be the truth.
“What’s in this file cabinet?” Kimball finally asked.
“Financial records, personnel files related to the department. All confidential. He claims that he always kept it locked.”
Kimball perked up noticeably. “Did she tell him why she was going through it? Could she have just been cleaning it and he mistook her intentions?”
“According to him, she couldn’t offer a good reason for being in it. When he saw her, he of course got angry. She began arguing back; saying that he had no business questioning her, and that was that. He fired her on the spot.”
“Did you ever get the chance to clear things up with her?” I asked.
“I tried. I called her cell phone dozens of times. I even showed up at her apartment once. I could never reach her. It was almost like she was avoiding me.”
“Do you think it was because she was guilty of what the commander had accused her of?” Kimball asked pointedly.
“In my heart of hearts I don’t think she was guilty of anything, but there’s no possible way I can prove that. Especially now.”
“Then why would he say that?” I retorted.
“As I said before, if you want the full story you’ll have to ask him.”
Kimball looked at me as if to say nothing left to see here. Time to move along. But I wasn’t quite ready.
“Based on what I gathered from the girls, you and Marisol were close, that last incident notwithstanding. Did she ever share things about her personal life?”
“Explain what you mean by personal.”
“Did she ever talk about relationships? Specifically about anyone she may have been dating?”
Bethany shifted in her chair, the first time I’d noticed any discomfort.
“Marisol was a young, attractive woman. I’m sure she had plenty of suitors. But she never talked to me about them. Yes, we were close, but there were certain things she was guarded about. I certainly understood that.”
“So you never saw pictures or overheard her speak of male friends?”
“No.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Kimball giving me the high sign again. This time I ignored him.
“Do you know a man by the name of Arturo Sandoval?”
A second shift, this one much more pronounced than the first.
“Yes I do. He was employed as our landscaper for seven months.”
“Seven months? Isn’t that a long life cycle for a private landscaper in Colorado?”
“He did some maintenance work for us in the winter. This is a large property, detective; a lot for two incredibly busy people to keep up with on our own.”
“Completely understandable,” I replied in a contrite tone. “I’m just trying to get as complete a picture as I can.”
Bethany nodded. “He found another job a couple of months ago, in the facilities department of the Four Seasons. The hotel called us for a reference. My husband gave a glowing recommendation.”
“So he was a solid employee?”
“As far as I know. I didn’t deal with him a lot.” Her eyes were suddenly cast down at her feet.
“Was he employed here at the same time as Marisol?”
Bethany hesitated, as if she had to think hard to make the connection. “It’s certainly possible. If so they probably wouldn’t have run into each other much.”
“Be that as it may, they were here at the same time.”
Kimball sighed just loud enough for me to hear. I continued ignoring him.
“I believe so,” she answered before taking a labored breath. “If you don’t mind, why are you asking me so many questions about Arturo Sandoval?”
Kimball opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he could get the words out.
“Because he has emerged as the prime suspect in Marisol’s murder and we’re trying to establish as many connections between the two as we can. We’ve already established the fact that they worked together at the Four Seasons. We’ve established that they were together only a couple of hours before she was killed and that he was most likely the last person to talk to her. And we’ve established that they were employed by you at roughly the same time. The only thing we haven’t established is a possible motive. That’s why it’s necessary to ask you these questions, Mrs. Brandt.”
The little remaining composure in Bethany’s face completely gave out and her eyes began to water. “My God this is such a nightmare.”
When she put her hands over her face and quietly began sobbing, Kimball shot me a look that would have killed a lesser man where he sat. I certainly felt bad that she was taking the news so hard but I knew the questions were necessary. Apparently, my partner didn’t feel the same way. Why was that?
I reached for a box of Kleenex on a nearby end table and set it down in front of her. She kept a shaky hand over her eyes as she reached for a tissue.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I understand this is difficult and I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know you have to ask the questions. It doesn’t make them any easier to answer.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Brandt,” Kimball said as he placed a comforting hand on her arm. “You’ve b
een very helpful to us under the circumstances.”
She finally composed herself enough to lift her head. “I wish I could offer more.”
“That’s quite alright,” Kimball assured her. “You’ve told us plenty.”
Looking at her face, I wasn’t so sure about that. “Just to clarify, you never saw anything from Mr. Sandoval that made you uncomfortable. No aggressive behavior, no moodiness, no off-color comments?”
“I didn’t interact with him much, as I’ve said. But the interactions I did have with him weren’t anything out of the ordinary.” She punctuated her sentence with a loud sniff. It was nice to know her and I had something in common.
I smiled thinly as I turned to Kimball. “Well, if you don’t have anything else, I think we can wrap this up.”
Bethany stood before Kimball could respond. “Thank you for coming, detectives.”
I extended my hand. She was slow to accept it. “Thank you for taking the time out of what I know is a very busy, very stressful day.”
“I second that, Mrs. Brandt. Your cooperation is very much appreciated.”
She smiled when she turned to Kimball. “I couldn’t have you reporting back to my husband that I was a hostile witness, now could I?”
“You’re far from it,” I insisted.
Hostile? No. Not entirely truthful? Quite possibly.
We accepted the second offer of a cold water bottle on our way out, no doubt both wishing that we could take a cold bottle of Sam Adams instead.
CHAPTER 10
“So did you get what you came for?” Kimball asked as we left the Utopian confines of Brandt’s gated community.
“Not entirely. I think she was holding out on us.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Did you see how uncomfortable she got when I brought up Arturo? She couldn’t move the conversation away from him fast enough. And the cover story for why Marisol was fired smells like total bullshit.”
I could see a slow build of frustration coming over Kimball. “So now you’re saying Mrs. Brandt was lying?”
“I don’t think she was lying. I think she was repeating the same bullshit story that was told to her.”
“So Commander Brandt was lying?”
“Unless she was part of some clandestine operation for DPD Internal Affairs, what business would a housekeeper have going through Commander Brandt’s department personnel files? It makes zero sense.”
“Ninety percent of what we see out here makes zero sense. But it doesn’t change the reality of it.”
“That may be the case most of the time, but in this instance I have good reason to be skeptical.”
“And what reason would that be?”
“Kyle McKenna.”
Kimball’s laugh was almost deafening. “Suddenly she’s the great bastion of truth? Give me a break man.”
My mind flashed back to the Dispatch leak of Marisol’s name and all of Kyle’s negative profiles of cops and her stalking of Marisol’s daughters and I suddenly felt embarrassed that I’d even brought up her name. But the information she’d provided me felt too important to ignore. “Be that as it may, she had someone with an inside track on Brandt and Marisol’s situation who told a much different story.”
“How different?”
“According to this version, Marisol was cleaning the house and accidentally walked in on a phone conversation that the commander was having. Nosey sort that she was, she lingered outside the door and continued listening. Brandt caught her, laid into her a bit, then fired her.”
“For hanging around outside his office while he was on the phone? Doesn’t that seem a little bit silly to you?”
“Of course it does. But like you said, just because something makes zero sense doesn’t mean it’s untrue.”
“Okay. Suppose it is true. What reason would the commander have to lie about it? And if he is lying, why would his wife, someone who purportedly loved Marisol so much, support it?”
“Exactly, and now you know why I’m leaving here so unhappy.”
Kimball sighed. “I know it’s in your nature to try and find smoke where other people don’t see it, but in this case you really have to consider the source of your information. This is Kyle McKenna we’re talking about. The only reason she even exists is to screw over every member of this department the first chance she gets. That includes you, Scott. We’re interviewing Bethany Brandt based on some ridiculous theory that Kyle concocted, when the asshole who killed Marisol Alvarez, the asshole who took a shot at me, is still running free out there. Shouldn’t we be putting our resources into him? I mean, does it even matter why Marisol was fired? She’s dead. All that should matter to us is who killed her. And it sure as hell wasn’t Commander Brandt.”
I couldn’t deny the logic of Kimball’s argument, even if I couldn’t completely reconcile it. Perhaps if he had sat in on my little meeting this morning, he would be more sympathetic to my paranoid state.
And I would be the first to admit that I was becoming increasingly paranoid.
That paranoia made me begin to wonder if Kimball was right. Perhaps I needed to keep my sights set on what was in front of me, on what was tangible. The video of Arturo outside the hotel suite with Marisol was tangible. The fact that he ran at the mere mention of our presence was tangible. The shot that he took at Kimball was tangible. Everything else was theory, and unless your name is Sherlock Holmes, theories don’t solve murders.
The drama with Commander Brandt and Marisol was my first good look down the rabbit hole that no doubt awaited me when I accepted Lieutenant Hitchcock’s assignment. It was also my first indication that I wouldn’t find anything good down there, no matter how much positive change I could affect, no matter how noble my intentions were.
There may have been something seriously wrong in the department, but I couldn’t be the one to fix it.
In that instant, I had finally found the guidepost I was looking for, and it came in the form of one word.
No.
That had to be my answer to Hitchcock.
No.
I never knew that such a simple word could have such a powerful effect.
No.
The weight of a thousand elephants was suddenly lifted from my shoulders.
I’m sorry, Lieutenant Hitchcock, but the answer is no.
The smile on my face was so broad that it physically hurt.
Find someone else to catch your rogue officers.
No.
And tell the bureaucrat to fuck off while you’re at it.
Between my smile and the heavy hand I put on his knee, Kimball must have thought I’d suddenly lost my mind, or fallen in love with him.
“Something you’re not telling me, partner?”
I gave another firm squeeze for good measure before letting go. “No need to get excited down there, Nathan. It’s just my way of telling you that you’re right about this whole Commander Brandt thing. It’s too easy to look for smoke where there isn’t any. That’s what the Kyle McKenna’s of the world do. You and I catch killers. Arturo Sandoval is our killer. Simple.”
Kimball blew out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “All I can say is thank God I don’t have to get excited down there. That’s when it turns awkward.”
We shared a laugh, and it felt completely normal.
Unfortunately, it would turn out to be the last normal moment wewould share for a very long time.
CHAPTER 11
I hadn’t even noticed the red and blue flashing lights until Kimball was in the process of pulling over.
“What the hell is this?” he said with a scowl as he eyed the rear-view mirror.
“I think we’re getting lit up. What did you do now?”
The unmarked Crown Victoria followed as we pulled into a nearby parking lot. “Wrong place, wrong time. Story of my whole damn life.”
I chuckled despite Kimball’s obvious irritation. “Just let me do the talking, okay? I have a way with cops.”
; “Shut up.”
I was still laughing as we stepped out of the car. It was certainly strange for a fellow patrol to get our attention this way rather than a call over the two-way, but I didn’t think much of it as we approached the Crown Vic.
That changed when I saw who was behind the wheel.
“Good afternoon, detectives,” a smiling Commander Brandt bellowed as he stepped out of the car.
Kimball and I had seemingly stopped on the exact same dime, both of us at an immediate loss for words.
“Always good to run into the DPD’s finest, especially out here in the sticks,” he mused as he continued his approach.
“Good to see you commander,” Kimball said as he went in for a handshake. I kept a respectful distance.
“You too, Nathan. How’s the cozy homicide life treating you?”
“I have to admit, I do miss the Kevlar sometimes. But the jacket and tie works most days.”
“You wear it well,” Brandt observed before turning his attention to me. “Detective Priest. I don’t think we’ve officially met.” He stuck out his catcher’s mitt of a hand.
“Nice to officially meet,” was all I could manage, and even that was a struggle.
He nodded and turned back to Kimball. “So my wife says you came out for a visit. Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you. To what did we owe the pleasure?”
Talk about getting right to the point. I let out a nervous breath, thankful that the question hadn’t been directed at me.
Kimball let out an equally nervous breath as he scrambled for a response. “A murder investigation.”
“Marisol Alvarez?”
“That’s right.”
“I heard you had a beat on the potential perp but he slipped away before you could collar him. Is it true he took a shot at you?”
Kimball nodded. “Thankfully he missed.”
“Can you track him?”
“There’s an ABP out now. We have the make and model of his car plus photos. We’ll catch up to him.”
“And God help him when you do,” Brandt said with a wink. “So, back to why you were visiting my wife.”
“Right. Well, it actually has to do with the guy who took a shot at me.”
The Rogue Element (Scott Priest Book 1) Page 7
