Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  “Don’t you understand? Trevor never got over Jake bringing his affair to light,” Carole explained.

  “Speaking of people never getting over things, you haven’t exactly gotten over Jake breaking up with you,” I said.

  Carole became highly defensive. “I would never kill him. I loved him too much.”

  I countered. “That’s the problem. When loves goes sour, people do crazy things.”

  “I’ll say,” Detective Stone added.

  Carole shook her head vehemently. “I didn’t do this.”

  “Instead of asking us to take your word for it, there’s a way you can prove it to us,” the detective said.

  Carole looked confused.

  Detective Stone moved forward. “Where were you between seven and seven fifteen on Tuesday?”

  “I was, uh, at my friend’s house,” Carole stammered.

  “So your friend will be able to verify that?” the detective asked.

  “Yes,” Carole said.

  “Oh, really? What’s the name of your friend?” Detective Stone replied.

  “Sasha.”

  “What’s her phone number?”

  Carole was caught off guard when she saw the detective pull out his cell phone.

  Her eyes opened wide as panic entered her voice. “You’re going to call her now?”

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Detective Stone asked.

  Carole replied meekly. “No.”

  The detective got Sasha’s phone number from Carole then stepped out of the car and called her. A few seconds later, he came back.

  By then, Carole had folded her arms defiantly. “So, are we done now?”

  “Actually, no,” Detective Stone said.

  Carole wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”

  “Sasha verified that you went over to her place that night, but not until around eight o’clock. She also said you were distraught when you arrived,” Detective Stone said.

  “That’s just because I had a rough day at work--”

  I interrupted Carole. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change the fact that you have no verifiable alibi for the time of the murder.”

  “I didn’t do this,” Carole proclaimed.

  “That would be a lot easier to believe if you had a way of proving that,” I said.

  Detective Stone decided to take the questioning in a new direction. “Ms. Dunning, you own a gun, don’t you?”

  “For protection,” Carole replied. “There are a lot of crazies out there.”

  “Some are closer than you think,” I said pointedly.

  Carole shot me another glare.

  Detective Stone carried on with his line of thought. “This gun of yours, it’s a thirty-eight caliber, isn’t it?”

  “Technically. But that doesn’t mean I did this,” Carole insisted.

  “I wish I could believe you,” Detective Stone replied.

  By that point, the interrogation had reached a fever pitch. Carole was at wits end. She folded her arms, with her mind made up. “I’m not answering any more of your questions. Don’t make me call my lawyer.”

  It was tempting to take her back to the station and lock her up just to see if she’d break down, but she seemed to have too much resolve for that. In addition, the detective couldn’t keep her behind bars for long without having more evidence. She seemed to know that just as well as we did.

  So, reluctantly, Detective Stone let her go, but not without a warning first. He told Carole that a patrol car would be assigned to her in case she decided to try and head out of town again. While a deputy tailed her back into town, the detective and I moved on to the final suspect on our list.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Billy Conklin might have been the last, but he was certainly not the least suspicious of the suspects. Fresh off the news of his affair coming to light, he was actually right at the top of the list. At least, that was where he began the day. With the wild interrogations Detective Stone and I had experienced, it was hard to find someone who didn’t look absurdly guilty. Perhaps Billy would be different.

  I wasn’t counting on it. Right then, my most immediate concern was whether he was at his cabin. After all the driving around we’d done, the last thing I wanted was to have to track Billy down. Thankfully, as the detective approached his cabin, I was relieved to see a pickup truck parked in the driveway. That meant he was definitely home. The next hurdle to overcome was whether Billy would answer his door.

  As we waited for an answer, I couldn’t help but think how surreal Billy’s situation was. Until recently, this remote cabin on the outskirts of town was used as a rental. When his wife threw him out after news of his affair, he had begrudgingly turned it into his new full-time home.

  After the first few rounds of knocking, it seemed like Detective Stone and I would have to think of a way to draw Billy outside. Luckily, we were able to scrap those plans when we heard Billy’s voice coming from the other side of the door.

  “Who is it?” Billy said.

  “Detective Adam Stone, Frozen Pine Police Department.”

  “Again? What do you want?”

  “I have a few more questions to ask you, Billy.”

  A silence fell on the conversation.

  Detective Stone got ready to pound on the door, but just as he raised his fist, Billy came out. He was a burly, bearded, forty-six-year-old with no neck to speak of who worked in construction. Although, he could have just as easily been a professional arm wrestler or bouncer at a night club. Judging by his grumpy demeanor, we were the last people he wanted to talk to. Astrid had been right—it did seem like he’d been drinking.

  Detective Stone responded to Billy’s snarl with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

  “You don’t have to look so happy to see me,” Stone said.

  “Trust me, I won’t,” Billy replied.

  Billy’s angry eyes then zeroed in on me.

  Detective Stone knew exactly what question was about to come. He stopped Billy before he had the chance to ask it.

  “This is Andrea. She’s assisting me with the case,” Stone said.

  “But why is she assisting you with the case here? After the other day, what other questions could you possibly have to ask me?” Billy replied.

  “You’re pretty confident for a guy with such a shaky alibi.”

  Billy didn’t flinch or show any cracks in his confidence. “It’s not my fault if you aren’t willing to accept the truth.”

  “You mean, the truth according to you. The problem with your story is that you have no one to verify it.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less true.”

  “Why don’t we go over your story again?” Detective Stone said.

  The annoyance was building on Billy’s face. “Why?”

  “Just indulge me for a minute. If you’re really telling the truth like you say you are, there’s no reason not to tell me again.”

  What seemed like redundancy was really something else entirely. The more irritated people became, the more likely they were to let information slip without even realizing it. Billy was already plenty grumpy to begin with. The fact that the detective was forcing him to relay his story again could wear down his last nerve.

  There was another reason for Detective Stone’s actions. When it came to interviewing suspects, it was often a revealing experience to ask the same questions over and over. As a suspect relayed their story for a second or third time, often subtle details would come out without them realizing it.

  If there was any deviation in their stories from one telling to the next, those slips of the tongue were actually the truth dribbling out. It was a best-case scenario for a sleuth, and a rare one at that, but in a case this wide open, it was one that was well worth taking.

  Billy sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Good. Now, where were you again on Tuesday between seven and seven fifteen?” Detective Stone asked.

  “I told you, I was just getting home,”
Billy replied.

  “No. The other day you told me you were already home,” the detective said.

  Billy groaned. “I meant, I was just pulling into the driveway. Same difference.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that. Now, as you were pulling in the driveway, you were by yourself, correct?” Detective Stone asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So, despite all your bluster, you really have no way of verifying your alibi?”

  Billy lost his grip on his temper. “I already told you, I didn’t do this.”

  “I’ve heard that one before. Every suspect has told me they are innocent, yet I know one of you is guilty.”

  “It’s not me,” Billy said.

  I had waited patiently for long enough. Despite his best efforts, the detective was getting nowhere.

  I decided to step in and take a different approach. Billy was already on edge. Perhaps I could push him off the deep end.

  “You said you didn’t do this, but you certainly had plenty enough reason to,” I said.

  “What are you talking about?” Billy snapped.

  “Do you want me to go down the list? You’re in the middle of a messy divorce. Until recently, you lived in a really nice four-bedroom home. Now, you’re in an old, remote cabin. You can’t pretend like your life is the same as it was before,” I said.

  “I’m not pretending anything. Trust me, no one knows more how different my life is than me.”

  “Exactly. And it’s all due to Jake’s private-eye work.”

  Billy stopped me right there. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  I challenged him. “Am I?”

  He nodded. “I was the one who cheated on my wife.”

  What an oddly candid admission for a murder suspect to make. Of all the times to hear that kind of honesty, it was frustrating to be hearing it right then.

  I tried to push him again. “But Jake exposed your affair.”

  Billy narrowed his eyes at me. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

  I played dumb. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re trying to push me to my limit, to get me so angry that I’ll say something stupid. Well, it’s not going to happen. I’ve told you my story, and it isn’t changing.”

  I was running out of room to work with. All I could do was make one last-gasp effort. “So you’re really going to stand here tell me that you’re not angry at Jake for what he did?”

  “No. The person I’m angry with is myself,” Billy replied.

  I couldn’t believe how quickly he’d shut me down, and he wasn’t even done yet.

  He took it one step further. “Now, I have nothing else to say.”

  Detective Stone and I could have kept pressing him, but we knew it would do no good. He was wise to our methods. Given that, we had no choice but to leave and try to regroup.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thankfully, even the most frustrating days eventually came to an end. This one was wrapping up just in time. The sight of my front patio was a most welcome one. While the other stops I’d made that day filled me with dread, the opposite was the case this time, mostly because I knew there wouldn’t be a combative suspect waiting behind my door. I would be treated to peace and quiet, which were just about the three sweetest words I could hear right then.

  My body already began relaxing as I walked up the driveway. The adrenaline that had carried me through the whole day quickly faded, replaced with a deep exhaustion that stretched from my head to my toes. It was a striking change that came out of nowhere. I had to reach deep to tap into my last reserve of energy.

  Conversation was the last thing I was in the mood for. Unfortunately, as Detective Stone joined me on my patio, one was unavoidable. I wasn’t about to be rude to the detective, but I also had no interest in lingering either.

  “You really didn’t have to walk me to my door,” I said.

  “We’re in the middle of a murder investigation. During times like this, you can never be too careful,” he replied.

  “I can’t argue with you there. Thanks again.”

  He nodded. “Get some rest. A detective’s best friend is a good night’s sleep.”

  “I thought donuts were a detective’s best friend.”

  “You can’t go wrong with either. Or, if you’re lucky, both.”

  “That’s the spirit. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night.”

  The detective then turned around and headed back to his car. He wouldn’t get far.

  See, I lived on a quiet street, even during the best of weather. During the middle of winter, the place was dead quiet. So when someone did make a loud noise, it stood out more than ever. As I reached into my purse to grab my keys, I heard a loud crashing sound coming from inside my house.

  I immediately went on high alert. My muscles tensed up as I feared the worst. What was that noise? More importantly, who had caused it? Had someone broken into my house? If so, was it just a common burglar, or was something more sinister at play? A horrifying thought flashed through my mind. What if it was one of the suspects we’d interrogated earlier looking to silence me for good?

  It would have been easy to become paralyzed with fear. I narrowly resisted, instead whirling around. Thankfully, the detective hadn’t reached his car yet. Clearly, he’d heard the crashing noise too, as he approached the door and drew his gun.

  When he reached me, he whispered in my ear.

  “Leave this to me,” he said.

  “With pleasure,” I replied.

  “Now, stay behind me.”

  I nodded and let him take the lead.

  Stone then raised his voice and addressed whoever was inside.

  “This is Detective Stone with the Frozen Pine Police Department. Come out with your hands up.”

  It made for a tense few moments as we waited for an answer. None came. Then again, I didn’t think the detective really expected one. When did criminals ever give up easily? They did everything the hard way, so why should this time be any different?

  As silence hung in the air, Stone gave another warning.

  “This is your last chance to come out.”

  Once again, there was no response from inside. That forced the detective into a tough situation. The tension ratcheted up as he thought about what he wanted to do.

  Meanwhile, I scanned the area, fully expecting to see someone darting in the shadows from my backyard to my neighbor’s, hoping to make a quick escape. That didn’t happen. There was no movement whatsoever.

  For the detective, the time to delay was over.

  He whispered in my ear.

  “Give me the key to your front door and stand back,” he said.

  I complied. He approached the door with my house keys in one hand and his gun in the other. I hid behind the pine tree in my front yard with my heart nearly beating out of my chest. Detective Stone slowly opened the front door and went inside. He didn’t make it very far before he stopped. Much to my surprise, the next noise I heard was the least likely of all.

  The detective chuckled, making me more confused than ever.

  “Why are you laughing?” I asked.

  “You can come out from behind the tree,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because it turns out we got worked up over nothing.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “What do you mean?”

  “Come and see for yourself.”

  I gingerly approached the front door and joined the detective. As I looked over at my kitchen floor, the answer was revealed to me. It turned out the crashing noise wasn’t made by a burglar or one of the murder suspects, but rather my Maine Coon cat, Buster.

  The gray, long-haired, two-year-old cat had developed quite a mischievous streak ever since he’d come into my life as a cute little kitten. He was getting feistier with each passing day. In a fit of hunger, like the little furry cat burglar that he was, he’d found a way to pry open the door to my kitchen cupboard with his paws.

/>   From there, he’d knocked over everything in his path, including a number of cans, until he’d found the bag of cat treats that he wanted at the back of the cupboard. Never mind the fact that I’d left out an entire bowl of dry cat food for him in the corner of the kitchen. The dry food to him was apparently as appealing as a kale-and-spinach salad. He wanted the good stuff and didn’t stop until he’d found it.

  I’d never been happier to see a messy floor in my entire life. That could easily be cleaned up. The alternative was infinitely worse. Now that danger had been averted, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “Buster, you little troublemaker. You scared us half to death,” I said.

  Detective Stone corrected me. “Speak for yourself.”

  I’d address the detective’s bluster in a second.

  First, I had a cat to feed. After all the trouble Buster had gone to for a treat, I didn’t want to deny him his snack, even if he had inadvertently almost given me a heart attack. Go ahead, call me a softie. I couldn’t deny that. The little guy had me wrapped around his paws. I opened up the bag of treats and set them down in front of him, and he started gobbling them up like there was no tomorrow.

  With Buster taken care of, I replied to the detective.

  “Come on, you weren’t scared a little?”

  “Being put in scary situations is just part of the job. The question is, do you let your fear prevent you from doing your job?”

  He was right on all accounts. While I tried not to let it get to me during an investigation, close calls could happen at any given time. The detective could put up a tough-guy exterior all he wanted. To me, this was a sobering reminder. At the same time, it showed how worked up I was and how on edge the case had made me.

  “I’m just happy it was a false alarm,” I said.

  The detective looked deep into my eyes and urged me to heed his advice.

  “Get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

  Even from a restrained man like Detective Stone, that was an insane understatement.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After such a horrible day, I really needed a break. It was during times like this when I usually turned to Jake. He always knew just what to say to make me feel better. Comforting me was his specialty. Unfortunately, when I needed him the most, he was gone.