“You couldn’t afford him, Blondie.”
The space behind Zoe’s eyes grew cold and still. “I’ve been boarding your horse for twelve years,” she said, proud of the calm determination in her voice. “At thirty bucks a month? That should be a good down payment.”
McBirney was quicker at math than she was. “That’s little more than four grand. A horse like this? I’d have to get no less than ten thousand. You owe me six. And I want it now.”
She held her ground, searching his eyes for some hint that he was kidding. She saw none. And she didn’t have six thousand. Hell, she didn’t have six hundred.
A slow smile crept across his lips. “Can’t afford it? Let’s see. I think we can make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” She expected him to ask her to intervene between him and Pete. Help him get off the suspect list for Ted’s death. That’s what McBirney had come there for, after all.
But he moved closer. Leaned toward her. His putrid breath hot on her face. “Same deal I wanted from you twelve years ago.” His voice was low and lustful. “You and me, Blondie. Only no alcohol this time for me. And total cooperation from you.”
The meaning of his words sizzled into her brain. She backed away from him, but he snatched a fistful of her hair. Survival mode kicked in. She tried to knee him. Missed her mark. He laughed, a harsh, triumphant laugh.
She struggled to pry his hand loose. “Let go.”
Spooked by the tussle, Windstar tried to bolt. When he hit the end of the rope, the horse attempted to whirl, slamming into McBirney. Staggered, he eased his hold on Zoe’s hair. She pulled free, sacrificing a chunk of her scalp in the process, and snatched the only thing within reach—Windstar’s bridle. She swung it at McBirney. The steel bit found its mark, catching him across the face.
He yelped and grabbed at his cheek. Zoe dove for the tack room. Her fingers closed around a bottle of fly spray sitting just inside the door. She ran at McBirney, pumping the trigger as fast as she could. The contents weren’t lethal, but she knew they stung like hell when you got the stuff in your eyes.
“Bitch!” McBirney screamed as he covered his face. He stumbled and tripped, crashing down on his back.
Zoe leapt to the phone next to the door. She punched in 9-1-1 and waited for the emergency operator to pick up.
“What the hell are you doing?” McBirney frantically mopped his face with his coat sleeve.
“I told you to get out. Next time maybe you’ll believe me the first time.”
He struggled to his feet. “Fine. I’m going. You don’t have to call your boyfriend.”
“What is your emergency?” the voice on the phone asked.
“I want to report an intruder.”
“No, you don’t. I’m out of here.” McBirney, his eyes red and watering, waved his arms at her. “And if you insist on calling the cops, I’ll have you charged with assault. You can share a jail cell with your friend, Sylvia Bassi.” He lurched toward the open door.
As soon as he was outside, Zoe apologized to the operator. “I’m sorry. When the guy saw I was serious about having him arrested, he decided to leave on his own.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to send out an officer?”
“Positive. Thanks.”
“No problem. If you change your mind or the intruder comes back, don’t hesitate to call.”
Zoe held onto the phone as McBirney climbed into his car.
He paused with one foot in, one foot out. “And for the record, I was not responsible for killing that horse. Or Ted Bassi.” He shook a finger at her. “But you…You had better watch your step.”
She hung up the phone when he drove away. Tremors started with her hands and overtook her entire body until her knees buckled. Her scalp burned. She sank to the ground and lost what little lunch she’d eaten.
Pete stared at the scrawls on the whiteboard he’d set up in the conference room, and tried to clear his mind. What was he missing?
Ted Bassi’s body had been found in a Buick owned by Jerry McBirney Monday night at 11:35. He had been last seen leaving his home at 8:50. Rankin reported first noticing the car in the game lands at 10:50. That placed his time of death within that two-hour window.
Pete sipped at his coffee and studied the list of suspects. Neighbors placed Rose at her mother’s house. The kids had both been at home. Sylvia was the only family member with no solid alibi, having been escorted home after the meeting by her grandkids and Zoe, but then being alone until she showed up at the police station later that night at 11:05. Still, Pete didn’t buy Sylvia killing her only son. He’d witnessed her grief firsthand and knew false tears when he saw them. Sylvia’s had been real.
So had Marcy’s. Had she been having an affair with Ted? None of the local hotels reported seeing either of them Monday night. Or any other night for that matter. She and Jerry McBirney remained on the suspects list with a note that they were each other’s alibis and several large question marks.
Physical evidence was noted next. Several long dark hairs undoubtedly belonged to Marcy. They were still at the county trace lab along with the blue fabric Pete had found in McBirney’s garage. If it matched Ted’s torn jacket, that would place the victim at the prime suspect’s home on the night of the homicide.
How had Ted’s jacket gotten torn? What was he doing at McBirney’s farm? In McBirney’s car? And where was Ted’s truck?
Pete shook his head. First things first. He picked up the phone.
“Hey, Grace,” he said when the county trace evidence tech picked up.
“Pete Adams,” came the sandpapery reply. “How the hell are you?”
“I need a favor.”
Grace grunted. “You men are all the same. What d’ya need?”
“Do you have anything yet on the Bassi homicide?”
“Jesus, Pete, that stuff only came in this week. I’m still processing evidence from before Thanksgiving.”
“I would consider it a personal favor if you could expedite this one case.”
“Personal favor, huh?” There was silence at the other end of the line for a moment. “Steak and beer at Galligher’s?”
“You got it.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The line clicked dead in Pete’s ear. Grace was never one for idle chitchat.
Then there was that lone fingerprint on the back of the Buick’s rearview mirror. Nothing on the steering wheel. Nothing on the seatbelts or door handles. Nothing. No smudges, no partials. The car had been wiped clean. But the idiot had missed the print he left when he moved the mirror.
Pete swore to himself. If McBirney had been driving the car, he wouldn’t have needed to adjust the mirror. Pete had already compared the print against Ted’s. No match.
He turned to a second whiteboard, which listed the information on the break-in. The timeline indicated the burglary happened between 4:00 and 5:45 Tuesday afternoon. The suspect list on this one included all the Bassi family, thanks to Sylvia having taken the damned computer in the first place. McBirney was there, too, courtesy of his bizarre interest in seeing the thing out of Sylvia’s possession. Pete had scribbled in Marcy’s name, too.
Kevin and Seth had phoned the officers formerly employed by the township, but neither one confessed to having shared security codes. Pete didn’t buy into either of them being involved in this mess anyway.
Tool marks on the evidence room door jamb and that damned fingerprint were about all they had to go on.
He drained his coffee cup and slammed it down on the table. Who the hell had taken the computer and why? What was the link between it and Ted’s death? Everything kept circling back to McBirney.
And Marcy.
Pete rubbed his eyes. What he really needed was to catch a break for once.
The
buzzer from the front door sounded. Now what? He pulled the door to the conference room closed behind him and looked at the monitor for the new security camera outside the front of the station. A woman stood there, bundled in a ski jacket. Her face was shielded by oversized sunglasses, but they didn’t hide her identity. He studied her, comparing the image with the one from the night of the break-in. Same person? He wasn’t sure. Later, he’d sit down and view both side-by-side.
“Hello, Marcy,” he said, stepping aside as he let her in.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to talk.”
Perfect. “No bother.” He escorted her into his office and she sank into a chair without waiting for an invitation.
She kept her head bowed. Her long hair tumbled forward like a veil. Pete eased into the seat behind his desk. He noticed her hands trembling as she reached for the sunglasses and slid them off her face.
“I can’t do it anymore,” she said, her voice low. “I’ve been lying to you about Jerry being home Monday night. I can’t know for sure where he was, because I wasn’t there.”
Got him. But Pete’s moment of triumph faded when Marcy swung her head to toss her hair away from her face, revealing a swollen and blackened eye. “My God, Marcy.”
“I need your help,” she said, her voice ragged. “I think Jerry killed Ted.”
Zoe’s legs felt like over-cooked spaghetti when she finally climbed to her feet. Her mouth tasted like bile and her mind rebelled against efforts to focus. She gazed at her gelding through tear-blurred eyes.
That bastard was going to make some sort of legal claim on Windstar. Was it possible? The horse’s registration papers were in Zoe’s name and had been his entire life. And McBirney would have too many questions to answer. However he might simply sneak back under the cover of darkness and do something as heinous as he had with the mare all those years ago. That would more closely match his vindictive style.
Another wave of nausea hit her. What if McBirney hadn’t really left? What if he’d stopped at the house on the way out?
Logan.
Zoe ran to Windstar who pulled back and showed her the whites of his eyes. “Whoa, boy.” She jerked his lead rope free from the tie ring and clucked to the horse. He broke into an easy jog at her side. She crossed the indoor arena with him, opened the sliding door, and slid the halter off his head. The horse took two steps into the slushy snow before taking off at a gallop, kicking up slop as he went.
Zoe tossed the halter onto its hook in the tack room and sprinted back to the house as fast as the snow and her boots permitted. By the time the kitchen door slammed behind her, she was out of breath. Sweat soaked her clothes beneath her parka. She kicked off the boots and thudded through the kitchen and living room to come face-to-face with an ashen Logan at the office door.
“Are you all right?” Zoe asked. “Where is he? Is he still here?”
“Who?”
“McBirney.”
Logan shook his head. “Nobody’s here. Why? Do you expect him to come back and try again?”
“He was back. He came out to the barn.”
Logan ran his hands through already tousled hair and his Adam’s apple rode the wave of a hard swallow. “Was he alone?”
Was he? “I didn’t see anyone with him.”
“Where’s Allison?”
“She and Patsy are riding.”
He gave a quick nod. “Good.”
“What’s wrong?” Zoe looked past him to the computer. The monitor was black. “Did you find something?”
“No.” He said it fast. Maybe too fast. “Nothing.”
“But you’ve shut it down?” Why was he calling it quits so early? She’d expected him to be digging through the old files until she had to run him out so she could go to work.
“Yeah. Uh, something’s come up. With a friend of mine. He—uh—needs my help with something. I gotta go. Now.” He reached for his coat on the sofa.
“Logan, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Again, his response came too fast.
“Logan?”
“Are you all right? I mean, did McBirney do anything to you? Do you want me to call Chief Adams for you?”
“You’re ducking my question. You found something. What?”
“Seriously. Nothing.” Logan shook his head. “I’ll come back tomorrow and look some more. Okay?” He tugged on his coat and headed for the back door.
“What about your sister?” Zoe called after him.
“Can you give her a ride home?” he asked without turning.
What was wrong with this kid? “Of course I can.”
He paused and met her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? ‘Cause if McBirney hurt you again…”
Zoe spotted Ted’s protective nature in Logan’s clenched jaw. “I’m fine.”
Logan forced a tight smile and closed the door behind him.
Merlin materialized from nowhere and wound around Zoe’s ankles. She scooped him up and rubbed his ears while she wandered into the office. What the hell was on that computer?
She deposited the cat onto her recliner and eased into the office chair. Drawing a breath, she punched the power button.
SIXTEEN
Pete clicked his pen and flipped open his notebook. “Were you and Ted having an affair?”
Marcy’s good eye grew wide. “No.” She lowered her face and her hair fell forward over it again. “But apparently that’s what Jerry thought. Since he was sleeping around, he figured I must be, too.”
This was news to Pete. “McBirney was cheating on you?”
She drew a deep breath. “Yes. With that lawyer woman.”
“Elizabeth Sunday?”
“Uh-huh.” Marcy peered up at him, a sheepish grin playing on her lips. “You probably think it serves me right.”
He hadn’t been going to say it. But now that she mentioned it…“No, I wouldn’t…”
“Sure you would. And you’d be right. My marriage to Jerry has been a nightmare right from the start. He was all charm and expensive gifts until we returned home from our honeymoon. Then he had to control my every move. He had to know about everyone I talked to…who I saw. He called me on my cell phone twenty times a day, and heaven help me if I let it go to voicemail.”
Pete reached across his desk and swept her hair away from the black eye. “And this?”
Marcy ducked from his touch, letting her hair obscure her swollen face again. “Oh, he was never physically abusive before. Well. Not really.”
Pete’s jaw ached from the tension. “You mean nothing this blatant before.” He fought back a vision of his own hands around McBirney’s throat.
She ran her tongue over her lips. “I wasn’t having an affair with Ted. But I was seeing him.”
“Seeing him?”
“I wanted to leave Jerry. But I was afraid. I knew if I just walked out, he’d track me down.”
She didn’t say that Jerry would track her down and kill her, but Pete sensed that was what she believed.
“We had that little field fire out at our farm last fall. Remember? Well, Ted was one of the firemen who responded. After it was out, he and I struck up a conversation of sorts while they were putting their equipment away. Anyway, he asked me how things were with Jerry. I didn’t say anything, but he must have read my mind.” Marcy picked at one of her cuticles. “Ted confided in me about what Jerry had done to Zoe and said he was worried about me.”
Zoe? What had McBirney done to Zoe? Next time Pete talked to her, he intended to get answers instead of letting his feelings for her distract him.
“We agreed to meet for coffee. I talked. He listened. He had connections in county protective services, and he put me in touch with a discreet divorce attorney.” Marcy’s voice wavered. “I was making plans t
o leave Jerry, and Ted was helping me. That’s all. There was no affair. But one of Jerry’s cronies spotted us together and told him. That was last week.” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
Last week. And Monday night, Ted’s body was found in McBirney’s car.
Pete grabbed a box of tissues from the bookcase behind him and set it on the desk. “Who else knew about Ted helping you?”
Marcy plucked a tissue from the box and shook her head. “No one.”
“Not even Rose?”
“Oh, yes.” She dabbed at her tears. “Rose knew.”
“Sylvia?”
“No. I gave Ted permission to tell his wife only because I know firsthand what secrets can do to a marriage.” She caught his eye for a moment. “But otherwise, he promised to keep it confidential.”
“What do you know about Monday night?”
“Nothing. I was supposed to meet with Ted after the supervisors meeting, but he never showed up. I figured the snow—” Her voice broke, and she pressed the tissue to her mouth and nose.
“Did you try to call him?”
“No. But I wondered why he didn’t call me. At least, I did until you showed up Tuesday morning.”
“What time did you get home?”
“I wasn’t keeping track of time. I think it was around ten or a little after.”
“Was your husband home when you got there?”
“Yes. And he was livid.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Marcy’s left fingers brushed her right upper arm for a moment. “Not really. He broke a lamp, though. Did a lot of screaming. And he made some threats.”
“Against Ted?”
“Against me.”
Pete didn’t realize he was clenching his fists until his pen snapped. Marcy flinched.
“Sorry.” He tossed the broken one in the trash and snatched a new one from his desk drawer. “So McBirney was there at ten.”
Circle of Influence (A Zoe Chambers Mystery) Page 16
