“Yes. I got a call after I hung up with my dad. We talked for twenty minutes.”
“What did you talk about?”
“When I was coming back. The future. I’m not lying, I swear.”
“We’ll need to verify everything you told us,” said Garrett. “It might take some time.”
“I don’t care how long it takes so long as you know I didn’t kill Fiona. You can do that thing where you triangle my phone and it tells you where I was, right?” she said, looking from Garrett to me. “I told you I couldn’t have done it.”
“You’ll need to show us where Debby’s body is too,” said Garrett.
“I think I can do that.”
“Write down everything that you just told me,” said Garrett. He pushed a pad of paper and a pen across to her and took the phone. “Don’t leave anything out.”
“Do you believe me?” she asked as Garrett and I got to our feet.
“I’m going to verify everything,” he said, skirting around the question.
“I want murder on both counts taken off the table. There’s no way my client could have killed Fiona Queller and she told you Debby Patterson died of natural causes,” said Stanley.
“Thanks for catching us up,” said Garrett. “I’ll get back to you on the charges.”
“That was some story,” I said as we left the room, shutting the door firmly behind us. We moved into the adjoining room where we could watch Marley through the two-way mirror. She bent over the paper, writing quickly as Stanley spoke to her. Every few minutes, she would shake her head or stop and look at him, then say something before she continued writing.
“What do you make of all that?” asked Garrett.
“I think Stanley is one badass lawyer,” I deadpanned.
“Ha-ha. He’s lazy and my guess is Marley already figured that out.”
“I think she’s telling the truth.”
“Yeah, me too. It shouldn’t be hard to confirm she didn’t kill Fiona now that we have new cell phone evidence to look at, which provides her with an alibi. Hard to kill someone when there’s a bunch of people who can verify she didn’t. Doesn’t mean she’s off the hook though.”
“How so?”
“Even if she didn’t kill the real Debby Patterson, she also didn’t report the death. She used a passport that wasn’t hers. The moment she first contacted the Pattersons, she opened up a world of trouble. She was taking over someone else’s life. The list goes on.”
I pondered that, wondering if Marley would ever get to live happily as herself. “I hope her lawyer does a good job defending her,” I said.
“I might drop a hint to the boyfriend to get her a better one. This case is going to be complicated to straighten out and Stanley will cop to anything just to get out of court. She needs good representation.”
“That’s generous of you.”
“You don’t have to stick around. I can wrap up the case from here. If you can get me the paperwork from your investigation into Debby, I’d appreciate it.”
“No problem. Garrett?”
“Yeah?”
“If Marley didn’t kill Fiona, who the hell did?”
Chapter Eighteen
“I love paperwork,” I said, glaring down at the tall pile amassed on my desk. I was making good progress towards finishing the file I promised Garrett but there was still a long way to go before I could close it. The biggest problem hampering my process was my mind, which kept drifting back to Fiona Queller.
With Debby-slash-Marley now possessing an airtight alibi, our number one suspect for Fiona’s murder was gone. Not only that, but given that she was our only suspect, the entire list was now empty. Garrett was sure Marley must have incited an accomplice but the more Marley talked, the less it seemed likely that she instigated any murder. She simply had no motive. Marley didn’t want anything from the Pattersons and planned to abandon her life as Debby. There was no need to protect a secret that was almost over, especially if Mrs. Patterson was as sick as Marley seemed to think she was.
So much for providing some relief to Fiona’s husband! Now, not only would the Pattersons be devastated that their real daughter was dead — and had been for ten years — but Fiona’s husband was still no closer to getting the answers he deserved.
I tried to force my attention on the emails Lucas retrieved for me, inserting them into the file, and added the surveillance photos I’d taken, along with Anna Colby’s statement that she recognized Marley, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything.
Knowing it was no use to force my mind to stick with the file, I got up and walked over to the boardroom. I picked a pen from the the windowsill and moved to stand in front of the whiteboard. In large letters, I wrote WHO KILLED FIONA?
Stepping back, I tapped the end of the pen against my chin, searching my mind for a motive. After spending days thinking Marley had killed Fiona to hide her secret, that theory had evaporated entirely. Someone else must have wanted Fiona dead, but who? Who would have benefited from Fiona being out of the way? Underneath, I added husband? Jerry Queller might have been in line to receive an inheritance or maybe he had a secret lover stashed somewhere. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of Fiona so he could live out a fantasy life, one where she wouldn’t be in the way. His grief seemed so real, but I had been duped before.
Unfortunately, my list of names ended there. I didn’t know nearly enough about Fiona because my focus remained on Marley as Debby. Where the fake Debby went, whom she spoke to, all the possible motives for taking on a false identity. Marley had given us an alibi very early on but until she confessed to having a secret phone, it was possible that she could have carried out the murder. She had the most obvious motive, since her alibi was a big secret. I added Marley’s name in its own column and drew an arrow from Fiona’s name to Marley, while adding framed? Could someone else have realized who Debby really was and used that knowledge to set her up? Were they hoping that the police would zero in on Marley once her identity was uncovered? Yet, no one tipped Garrett or me off about her true identity. If they wanted to frame Marley, someone should have actively pointed us in her direction and yet, no one had.
Where did that leave me? I added revenge, jealousy, and secret to the list of motives. After a moment, I added burglary. The police might have ignored the idea of burglary but perhaps that was a premature conclusion. Could something have been stolen that no one realized yet?
“What are you doing?” asked Solomon.
I jumped, surprised, and whirled around, seeing him in the doorway. “Solving a murder,” I said, turning back.
“Why isn’t Debby’s name on the list?”
“Long story, but Debby isn’t Debby and she didn’t do it.”
“That was very long,” teased Solomon. “I wish you just told me the short version. I don’t think I can stay awake any longer to process all that information.”
I laughed at his good-natured teasing. “Sorry, but that is pretty much it. The real Debby died in a freak incident involving natural causes and her friend, Marley, simply took over her life. I think it spiraled out of control. She intended to give up her fake life after visiting one last time,” I told him before turning back to the whiteboard. “With Debby out of the picture, I want to know who killed Fiona.”
“Is it possible the two cases aren’t even related?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t help me at all.” Having considered that idea more times than I could count, there was something about the timing, along with the violence of the crime that made me certain we were missing an obvious clue.
Solomon stepped into the room, reaching me in a few long strides. I felt his warmth against my back and was tempted to rest against him. “Okay,” he said, “What makes you so certain they’re connected?”
“Fiona was living a perfectly normal life until the fake Debby Patterson showed up. Fiona didn’t trust her from the start and didn’t hesitate to tell other people that, including me.”
“I think you’re looki
ng at this backwards.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve been thinking since Fiona’s murder that Debby, sorry, fake Debby, killed Fiona to protect herself as well as her identity. Now, you’re considering someone wanted to frame Debby and out her true identity but there’s another motive you haven’t taken into account.”
“I considered burglary again, even though violent burglary isn’t normal here. And I added the husband. See?” I pointed to the board.
“No, I mean, what if someone killed Fiona to protect Debby? To ensure Debby’s identity wasn’t discovered?”
I frowned. “Why would anyone but Debby do that? Everyone wanted the real Debby to come home.” Even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t quite true. Debby had annoyed a lot of people and it seemed the only ones who had any continued interest in her were her parents. I was sure her grandma would have wanted her home too, if she stayed lucid long enough to recall who Debby was.
“You tell me. Maybe someone had something to gain from keeping Debby alive.”
“Like what? Fake Debby didn’t have the money to be blackmailed or provide anything big. The only thing she was useful for was as someone’s patsy.”
“Could that be the same person who wanted her to come home?”
“No, her mom asked her to come home. Plus, Marley said she met a guy she wanted a future with and he motivated her to stop living the lie permanently.”
“Who’s Marley?”
“Marley is the fake Debby.”
“I think I’ll need the long version. Over dinner?”
“I would love to but I still need to work on this. I know I’m missing something.”
“Work with what you know. Assuming this guy isn’t in Montgomery and doesn’t know anything about anything, her mom asked her to come home. Go talk to her mom.”
“You mean the real Debby’s mom?”
“Tell me everything very soon,” said Solomon. “I don’t know who’s real or who’s fake.”
“I’m real,” I told him as I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.
“Mmm, yes, you are,” he mumbled over my lips before deepening the kiss. He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me. For a few pure minutes, I forgot about the case. A cough from the doorway barely registered until someone cleared their throat loudly. We broke away, Solomon looking over his shoulder.
“That had better be your fiancé, boss,” said Delgado.
“How many other women in this office wear pink pants?” asked Solomon, moving slightly so I could wave to Delgado.
“You want to complain to HR about harassment?” Delgado asked me.
“Yes, and I want it known that I protested a lot.”
“I let her harass me,” said Solomon. “I like it.”
“I don’t know who to believe,” said Delgado. “We got a client meeting. I’ll wait in the car for you to finish ruining the work environment.”
“One day,” said Solomon when Delgado had retreated, “I will really ruin the work environment by doing things to you that have never been done in this office before.”
“Disconnect the security cameras first,” I told him, since that seemed both sensible and exciting.
“Done.” He kissed me once more, breaking it off before my heart could pound again. “Don’t spend too much time on this. I have another case for you.”
“Looking forward to it.” I waved to him as he left, my spirits buoyed by the kisses more than the promise of another case. Solomon had been good enough to let me take on this case, largely as a pro bono favor even if it were one that would support our good reputation with MPD and the wider law enforcement community. But he was also running a business. Paid work came first and that meant my time was almost up. I knew I had to find Fiona’s murderer. I couldn’t turn in the case file knowing that something connected to Debby was left unsolved.
I turned to the sparsely filled whiteboard, and Solomon’s words rattled in my head. He was right, I had to talk to Margaret Patterson. Marley might have wanted to start her life again, but it was Debby’s mom who asked her to come home. Another thought occurred to me, something I hadn’t considered until now. Marley said Debby’s mom needed her home. For such a sudden and urgent request, it must have been a serious illness, maybe even life-threatening. Yet, Mrs. Patterson didn’t look ill when I spoke to her and I didn’t recall seeing anything in the emails I examined.
Walking over to my desk, I opened my laptop and found the file Lucas gave me. I clicked on the email program and typed “sick” into the search box. Seconds later, the search engine didn’t return anything. I tried “illness” and nothing came back. I tried several other variations of ill health but nothing came back.
“That’s weird,” I told the computer. There should have been some evidence of Debby’s mom asking her to come home. I cleared the search box and scrolled down the page, finding Mrs. Patterson’s last email quickly. It wasn’t long. She asked about Debby, said she was interested to know what made her stay in Athens so long and was the weather good? Then she moved onto some gossip about the neighbors, mentioning she was planning on redecorating the living room before she signed off, but not without saying her father was working too hard as always. Not a single word about Debby coming home.
I reached for the file I’d prepared for Garrett, opening it to the phone records before I immediately realized my mistake. These were Debby’s decade-old phone calls, not her new ones. She had purposefully avoided calling, ensuring the only method of communication was email or snail mail until very recently. The email had to be in here somewhere.
The trash icon caught my eye and I clicked on it. There were plenty of emails Marley shot directly into the trash. I scrolled past store mailshots and subscriptions, finding a recent one from Mrs. Patterson. I clicked on it and began to read.
In a short email, Mrs. Patterson implored Debby to come home. She said she’d received a terrible diagnosis and needed to see Debby again, maybe for the last time. She said she would die unbearably unhappy if she couldn’t see her daughter, and if Debby loved her, she would come home. Finally, she said, there was no need to talk about it when she returned. She’d just be happy to see her again and would she please delete such a sad message.
“That is so, so odd,” I said as I hit the print button, sending the email to the printer. As it whirred out, I folded it into my purse. I flipped the file closed and shut my laptop, locking them both into my desk drawer and grabbing my purse before taking the stairs down to the parking lot.
During the drive to the Pattersons’ house, I wracked my brain for any mention of illness and still nothing came to mind. Surely either of the parents would have mentioned it when questioned? Or maybe they thought it was none of my business since, as far as they knew, I was merely conducting a few formalities to close the case on their daughter.
I was certain that if I wanted to know what happened to Fiona, I had to find out everything I could about Debby coming home. As I arrived outside the house, it occurred to me that Garrett might have already told the Pattersons the truth. That could make me very unwelcome, not to mention, intrusive on their privacy and most recent source of grief. I parked, and called Garrett.
“Hey, are you coming over with the file?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” I told him. “I’m just wrapping up a couple things. Have you told the Pattersons about their daughter yet?”
“No. We decided to wait until we have a body. There’s no point in dragging out their sorrow.”
“Has Marley’s story checked out?”
“For the most part, yes. We’re on the way to get the body now, assuming it’s where she says it is.”
“Now? It’s going to be dark soon.”
“She said it’s in a shallow grave and she thinks she remembers where. Plus, I called in a favor with Boston PD and borrowed their cadaver dogs.”
“Are they what I think they are?”
“Mutts that sniff out corpses,” Garrett said, not sugar-
coating his words to save my ears.
“That’s… useful,” was the best thing I could come up with.
“If there’s a body out there, they’ll find it. I just hope wild animals haven’t scavenged it too much over the years. I’d like to bring her in whole.”
I gulped. “Please don’t tell me anymore.”
“I was going to say, that way, the medical examiner has a better chance of finding the cause of death. I don’t want to tell the Pattersons until I can give them all the answers because they, no doubt, will have a lot of questions.”
“Actually, that’s a good thing. I want to ask them a couple more—”
“Hey, Lexi, I gotta go. We are at the location and I can see one of the detectives is already there with Marley. I’ll speak to you soon.”
“Gar—”
“Thanks for everything. I really appreciate your help on this case but I’ve got it from here,” he said and hung up.
Since I was already at the Pattersons, it would have been a waste of my time to turn around and go home. Plus, I really wanted to know more information about the mystery illness. I wondered if it were something Fiona had known about, perhaps making her all the more determined to uncover the truth about the impostor Debby Patterson before Mrs. P.’s health worsened. As soon as the thought came into my head, I was confused. Killing Fiona to hide her identity still gave Marley the most compelling motive but her interview had all about eradicated any motive to kill Fiona.
I was still considering the motive as I knocked on the Pattersons’ door. If Mrs. P. were surprised to see me, she didn’t appear to be, however, she did look awfully gaunt. Her cheeks were a little more sunken than the last time I’d seen her and her hair had lost most of its bounce. Was it from sadness at losing her friend? Or illness? I was sure I was about to find out.
“I’m sorry to bother you again,” I told her, feeling guilty because I knew she had much worse to come and very soon. “I’m just tying up a couple of loose ends.”
Ready, Aim, Under Fire (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 10) Page 21
