Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  Joe reached the end of his fuse. He was determined to make a definitive statement that Reggie wouldn’t be able to misinterpret. “Mr. Ward, we’re here about George Dolan.”

  It didn’t seem like my brother had left any wiggle room in his statement, but Reggie managed to find some.

  “I get it. George probably told you to come in tonight because we’re having such a sales blowout, and now you’re feeling a little torn because you’re talking to me instead of him. Rest assured, if George was here, I would be happy to let him have the pleasure of making the sale. But here’s the problem. He’s not in tonight, and I don’t want you missing out on these crazy deals. After all, with prices this low, these puppies aren’t going to last long,” Reggie said.

  Joe had tried almost every other permutation to get through to Reggie.

  My brother made one last attempt to get to the point. “Mr. Ward, we know George isn’t here. He’s dead.”

  That put an abrupt end to Reggie’s sales pitch. He raised his eyebrows at my brother. “What did you just say?”

  “George Dolan is dead. He was murdered earlier tonight,” Joe said.

  “Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I thought you said,” Reggie replied.

  “We need to ask you a few questions about him,” Joe said.

  Reggie’s eyes widened as he pointed at himself. “Me?”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah. Did anyone not get along with him?”

  Reggie didn’t hesitate to produce a name. “Mike Griswold.”

  That immediately got my attention, especially since that was the same person George’s wife had referenced earlier. Perhaps Elaine hadn’t been just trying to deflect the spotlight from herself.

  Joe followed up. “Why Mike?”

  “He was pretty bent out of shape when I promoted George a few months ago instead of him,” Reggie replied.

  Joe rubbed his chin. “Interesting.”

  I couldn’t help but notice that everyone kept referencing what a big slight it was for Mike to get passed over for this promotion.

  A question popped into my mind. “Let me guess. The salesmen here are paid purely on commission, aren’t they?”

  Reggie nodded. “Yeah. That’s why they are so cutthroat.”

  “And this promotion that George got, was it a salaried position?” I asked.

  Reggie nodded again. “Sales manager is one of the few salaried positions here.”

  “That explains a lot,” I said.

  Reggie volunteered some more information. “The promotion isn’t the only reason Mike hated George.”

  “I’m all ears,” I replied.

  “There’s also the affair that George was having with Mike’s girlfriend,” Reggie revealed.

  It was a good thing I wasn’t chewing gum right then, or I would have spat it out. Talk about a bombshell. I was in such shock that I was only able to muster one word in response. “Affair?”

  “You didn’t know? Mike caught George and his girlfriend together one night,” Reggie said.

  I continued wrestling with my disbelief. “Really?”

  Reggie nodded. “It was even more awkward because Kristal Stanfield was working here at the time. The news of their affair really turned this place upside down for a couple of weeks.”

  Joe latched on to an interesting detail. “When you say that Kristal used to work here—”

  “She quit a couple of weeks after news of the affair broke. I guess it just got too awkward for her to keep coming in here day after day and having to work with George and Mike,” Reggie explained.

  “I’ll bet,” Joe said.

  “So wait. Do you think Mike might have killed George?” Reggie asked.

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I said.

  “Talk about some serious craziness. I can’t believe George is gone. He brought a lot of revenue in,” Reggie replied.

  Really? That was what he was thinking about after hearing George had been murdered? His bottom line? Where was his heart? Maybe I had just answered my own question.

  “You’re really thinking about money at a time like this?” I asked.

  “No. Of course, it’s sad that George is gone. It’s just that you sprang this news on me in the middle of one of the busiest sales days of the year,” Reggie replied.

  It was hard to tell if Reggie was telling the truth or not.

  My brother dug deeper. “Speaking of that, how did you and George get along?”

  Reggie was very quick with his response. “We got along just fine.”

  Joe stared him down. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” A tone of annoyance came to Reggie’s voice. “Why did you ask me that?”

  “Why are you getting so defensive?” Joe said.

  Reggie tensed up. “Because you’re talking to me like I’m some kind of criminal.”

  “I’m a homicide detective. It’s my job to consider every possibility,” Joe replied.

  “Go consider another one. You’re wasting your time if you think I had anything to do with George’s death—”

  Joe corrected him. “Murder.”

  “Right. Murder,” Reggie said. “Like I told you, Mike Griswold was the one with a huge ax to grind.”

  “You’re awfully quick to point the finger of blame on Mike,” Joe said.

  “And off yourself,” I added.

  “I already told you, I had nothing to do with this,” Reggie replied.

  “Prove it. Where were you tonight between seven and eight o’clock?” Joe asked.

  “I was here,” Reggie said.

  “Do you have anyone to verify it?” Joe replied.

  He sure did. Not only did three different employees verify Reggie’s story, but Reggie also showed us security camera footage of him helping out various customers on the lot during the time of the murder.

  Reggie was completely clean. At the same time, one person was absent from those tapes—Mike Griswold.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time we got out of the RV Rodeo, it was after midnight. Suddenly, time was working against us. Even so, part of me wanted to keep investigating. But while my heart was willing, both my mind and my body were as tired as could be. That was especially discouraging, considering that murder cases were hard enough to solve even when my mind was sharp.

  To do so when I was running on fumes put me at a drastic disadvantage. On top of that, we were only halfway through our list of suspects. If we kept pressing on, we could interview suspects until three in the morning.

  I knew that I had reached the point of diminishing returns, but my brother was as hard to read as ever. His tight-lipped expression didn’t give anything away. It wasn’t until I heard him sigh that I knew the investigation had caught up with him.

  After a brief discussion, we decided to pack it in for the night. Joe assigned patrol cars to watch over the houses of the remaining suspects, just in case any of them decided to make a break for it. From there, Joe drove me home where I prepared to regroup for another round of interviews in the morning.

  It would be safe to say that I slept like a rock. If only it was that easy to get to sleep every night. There had been no tossing and turning, no staring at the ceiling while juggling with my thoughts, just the sleep of the dead.

  The next morning, after getting caffeine in my system, I was refreshed and ready to tackle the case once again. My brother picked me up at my house shortly after eight o’clock. Before swinging by my place, Joe had checked in with the crime lab, hoping they had discovered something useful that could help us blow the investigation wide open. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. It seemed that we were going to need a confession from the killer to solve this one.

  Our first stop of the morning was Mike Griswold’s two-story tan Spanish-style house. This interview should be interesting. Both Renegade Reggie and Elaine Dolan had pointed the finger of suspicion at Mike.

  It was eight thirty when we arrived at his place. My brother had
a chat with the patrol officer that he had assigned to keep tabs on the place. The officer hadn’t seen any movement or anything unusual overnight.

  Instead of immediately pounding on Mike’s door, we decided to hang back for a few minutes. Joe and I sat patiently in his car, waiting for Mike to come out. The previous evening, Renegade Reggie had told us that Mike was on the work schedule to come in at nine o’clock this morning. That meant he’d have to leave pretty soon in order to arrive on time.

  Sure enough, at eight thirty-nine, Mike came out his front door and walked toward his silver pickup truck, which was parked in the driveway.

  Mike was a short man in his late forties with a round face, a few extra pounds around his midsection, and a head of rapidly graying hair.

  Joe and I got out of our car and confronted him in the driveway.

  My brother held up his badge as he addressed Mike. “Mr. Griswold, Joe Hadley, Hollywood Police Department.”

  Mike looked confused. “Okay. What are you doing here?”

  “We’re here on some official police business,” Joe replied.

  “I think you have the wrong house,” Mike said.

  Joe held firm. “That’s what you’d like us to think. Trust me, we have the right house, Mr. Griswold.”

  Mike kept trying to squirm out of the conversation. “Look, I have to get to work—”

  “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

  Mike gave Joe another puzzled look. “What’s this about?”

  “You had quite the rivalry with George Dolan, professionally and romantically,” Joe said.

  Mike became more dismissive than ever. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Joe dropped the hammer. “Because George was murdered last night.”

  Mike stopped dead in his tracks. In my mind, how he reacted to the news could be key. I didn’t see any shock on his face, nor was there any grief. Mike very calmly looked into my brother’s eyes.

  “You two are definitely at the wrong house. I didn’t even know George was dead,” Mike replied.

  Joe stopped him from spinning his wheels. “Stop the act. We’re here for a very specific reason, and we’re not going to stop until we get answers.”

  “I already told you, I need to get to work,” Mike insisted.

  “If you answer our questions quickly and honestly, you’ll get to work in plenty of time. Now, both you and George fought to get promoted to sales manager. He ended up beating you out. With George’s murder, however, there’s suddenly an open sales manager position, which you’d be in line to get it—” Joe started saying.

  Mike interrupted him. “Are you implying that I murdered George so I could become sales manager of the RV Rodeo?”

  “Reggie told us that he runs a cutthroat business,” Joe said.

  Mike scoffed. “You’re really reaching here.”

  I picked up where my brother had left off. “That’s not all. We also know that George was having an affair with your girlfriend.”

  Mike gritted his teeth. He tried to keep from blowing his top, but I could see the fire in his eyes.

  I continued. “By the way, are you and Kristal Stanfield still together?”

  Mike lashed out at us. “You can keep trying to pin this on me all you want. I already told you, I had nothing to do with George’s murder.”

  While Mike’s emotions boiled over, I wanted to keep an even temper. The calmer I stayed, the more rational I would remain.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I replied.

  Mike pled his innocence once again. “I didn’t kill George.”

  Joe gave him a critical look. “That still remains to be seen. One thing is clear—you definitely had a motive to commit murder. The question is, did you have the opportunity? Mr. Griswold, where were you last night between seven and eight o’clock?”

  “I was at work,” he said.

  Joe narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Griswold, don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying,” Mike insisted.

  “We talked to Reggie. He told us you ended your shift at six,” Joe said.

  Mike quickly revised his story. “Right. I meant that I was just coming home from work.”

  Joe didn’t believe that explanation for a second. “It doesn’t take two hours to get here from the RV Rodeo.”

  “Have you seen the holiday traffic out there?” Mike said.

  Joe stared him down. “Even with the worst traffic jam that Hollywood has to offer, it still wouldn’t take you two hours to get back here.”

  Mike added a new wrinkle to his story. “I stopped at the grocery store on the way back.”

  I had never heard a story change so much in the span of a few questions. New information kept wringing out of him. How many more layers would we need to peel back to get the truth out of him?

  Joe raised his eyebrows at the suspect.

  Mike could tell that we didn’t believe him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, surprisingly producing a receipt.

  “See? I stopped at the grocery store,” Mike said.

  Joe gave the receipt a thorough inspection but remained critical of Mike’s story.

  “You did stop at the store. The only problem is that this receipt is time-stamped at six fifty-two. The murder occurred between seven and eight,” Joe replied.

  “I came right home after grocery shopping,” Mike said.

  “How do we know that?” I asked.

  “Look at the receipt. I bought a bunch of frozen food and other perishables. Those aren’t the kinds of things that you want to let sit in your car for any extended period of time,” Mike said.

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a moron. I know it’s unwise to leave frozen food sitting in the car for too long,” I replied.

  “Then you know how ridiculous it would be to stop into the grocery shopping to buy a slew of frozen food and head over to George’s house afterward to kill him,” Mike reasoned.

  I came up with my own rival theory. “Or maybe you specifically bought all that frozen food because you knew it would make a good cover story.”

  Mike vehemently shook his head. “No. I didn’t go over to George’s house last night. I drove right home from the grocery store.”

  “You keep saying that, but do you have anyone who can verify that?” I asked.

  “No. I was shopping alone,” Mike replied.

  “Exactly. Which means you could just be lying to us,” I said.

  Mike groaned. “This is ridiculous. You’re talking to the wrong person.”

  I stared him down. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Do you know who should be on your radar?”

  I interrupted him. “Mike, we’re talking to you.”

  Mike didn’t give up. He was determined to point the blame elsewhere. “You need to talk to Elaine.”

  Instead of fighting with him, I decided to indulge him.

  “Because?”

  “To start, they were in the middle of a bitter divorce,” Mike said.

  “We know that,” I replied.

  He questioned me. “Do you really? Because let me tell you, their divorce was more contentious than anything I have ever seen.”

  That story ran completely contradictory to what Elaine had told us. Granted, I hadn’t believed her when she told us her divorce was going seamlessly, but Mike was giving us a startlingly different take.

  “It turns out we’ve seen a lot,” I said.

  “Then you know how mad Elaine was at George. With good reason. I mean, it takes a lot of nerve to cheat on your wife then fight her tooth and nail in divorce court for every last penny,” Mike said.

  Apparently, we had underestimated just how rancorous George’s divorce truly was. Thanks to Mike, we had some new fodder to use against Elaine Dolan. It would definitely come in handy when we questioned her a second time. That being said, I wasn’t about to let Mike steer this conversation so far away from himself.

  My brother realized the discussion was gett
ing far afield as well and brought things back on point. “Mr. Griswold, we know what you’re doing. You can’t keep deflecting, especially since we have a number of other issues to discuss with you.”

  “Take, for example, Kristal Stanfield cheating on you,” I said.

  “It’s not as big of an issue as you seem to think it is,” Mike replied.

  Now I was the one in disbelief. “Really? George Dolan was sleeping with your girlfriend, and you’re going to pretend like it wasn’t a big issue? Come on.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t happy finding out that Kristal was messing around on me, but our relationship was already falling apart before I found out about her and George,” Mike said.

  I called him out. “Mike, what did I tell you about not treating us like morons?”

  He defended himself. “I’m not. Seriously. Kristal and I had been fighting constantly. We were on the verge of breaking up anyway, even if she hadn’t been sleeping around.”

  I gave him an incredulous stare. “That’s hard to believe.”

  “It’s the truth,” Mike insisted.

  Joe jumped back into the conversation. “Unfortunately, you have no way of proving that either. Every word out of your mouth is uncorroborated. Do you have anything to say in your defense that you can actually prove?”

  As so often happened with suspects that were backed into a corner, Mike completely shut down on us. “I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

  While we would have liked to keep pumping him with questions, we knew he was done talking to us. And lacking any solid evidence against him, we couldn’t force him to answer our questions. That left us with no choice but to let him go.

  But first, my brother got the last word in. “I have something else to say. Don’t even think about leaving town.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After all the dirt the other suspects had given us on Elaine Dolan, a second visit to her house was in order. I wasn’t looking forward to it. She had been combative enough the first time we talked to her. Another conversation had the potential to become even more explosive. At the same time, if we could get the information we were looking for out of her, it would all be worth it.