Despite the latest setback, if David was going to solve Andrew’s murder, he would have to find a way to break through to the truth. The problem was that his options appeared to be limited.
“So what now?” I asked.
David was so disheartened that he didn’t even try to hide his sagging spirit. Not that it would have mattered if he had attempted to conceal his emotions. I knew him well enough to be able to tell when he had hit a low point.
As I gazed into his troubled eyes, I saw that he was more than just discouraged. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he looked stumped.
David tried to put on the best face that he could. “I’m working on what to do next.”
I stared back at him. “What have you worked out so far?”
He broke eye contact. “Not a whole lot.”
A sense of panic came over me. “You’re going to keep investigating, though, right?”
David attempted to muster some resolve. “Don’t worry. I’m not giving up. I’m just not sure where to go from here.”
“How about reinterviewing all the suspects?” I asked.
My suggestion left him visibly distraught. “The problem is, even though none of the suspects have verifiable alibis, there isn’t any hard evidence to pin any of them to the crime, either.”
There was a frantic tone in my voice as I responded. “David, you can’t let this case go unsolved. Andrew’s death cannot be in vain.”
He took my hand. “Sabrina, I haven’t given up. I’ve just hit a roadblock.”
I began to ramble. “There are already enough unsolved mysteries in this town—”
David stopped me. “I know what you’re worried about. That this case will go cold—that it will go unsolved, just like your sister’s disappearance. But that won’t happen.”
My anxiety was really ramping up, to the point where I had to concentrate solely on my breathing. To calm myself down, I took a series of slow, deep breaths.
David stared long and hard into my eyes. “Trust me. I’m going to find out who did this. You just need to be patient.”
Over the course of our relationship, David had shared with me a number of details about detective work. Unfortunately, it was at that exact moment that one of the more unsavory statistics of the job entered my mind.
“Aren’t you the one who is always telling me that the chances of solving a case go drastically down once the case goes beyond forty-eight hours old?”
David winced. “Technically, that’s true. But just because the odds go down doesn’t mean that I can’t solve the case. Sometimes, all I need is a lucky break.”
I let out a sigh. “The problem with luck is that you can’t depend on it.”
“No, but there is something you can depend on,” David said.
He had my attention.
“What is that?” I asked.
“The fact that human beings are inherently flawed. And because people are so imperfect, there is no such thing as a perfect murder. Knowing that, I just need to figure out where the killer went wrong.”
David had done his best to convince me, but I remained discouraged. It wasn’t because I lacked confidence in him. He was a great detective. It was more that even the best investigators hit a wall every once in a while.
I couldn’t allow this case to hit a dead end. No matter what it took, I wouldn’t be able to rest until Andrew’s killer was brought to justice. I also could no longer just stand idly, by waiting for my boyfriend to give me updates.
At first, I had been reluctant to get directly involved, but the more this case appeared to be slipping away from David, the more I felt compelled to take action. I never thought I would say it, but it was time for me to get proactive. To throw myself into the fray. To do everything in my power to uncover the truth.
Like that, I knew exactly what I needed to do. I was going to take the investigation into my own hands by doing some sleuthing of my own.
Chapter Seventeen
Andrew’s funeral was the following day. In addition to giving me an opportunity to pay my last respects, his service could act as fertile ground in turning up a lead that could ultimately reveal the identity of his killer.
Wow.
Talk about uncharted territory. Never before in my life had I ever considered a funeral to be anything other than a way to honor the deceased. For me to look at his service as a research opportunity was unprecedented. Then again, considering how invested I had become in this murder investigation, I was already treading on much different ground than I was accustomed to. If I was going to play the role of sleuth, this would probably be just the first of many odd developments.
Now that I was looking at this situation as more than just memorializing an old friend, it would be interesting to see what observations I could make. One thing that was working in my favor was that most of the suspects in the case would all be here. With emotions running high, would the situation become combustible?
As I looked around the pews of the church, there was certainly an unusual vibe amongst the funeralgoers. Uneasiness hung heavily in the air. That led to awkward glances and a sense that the suspects were focused more on themselves than honoring Andrew’s memory.
Granted, I had not been to many funerals in my life, but I had never attended one quite like that. The death of a loved one typically brought a family together. The sight of a corpse had a way of making the living value how fragile life was. From personal experience, when the universe reminded me that tomorrow was not a promise, but rather a gift, I found myself wanting to live my life to the fullest.
Apparently, I was the only one in the church who felt that way. Andrew’s death only seemed to deepen the divide within his family. Old wounds appeared to have been reopened. The suspects looked jittery, like they were uncomfortable in their own skin.
If these suspects wanted to look innocent, they were doing a very poor job of it. Maybe that was a clue in itself—that they weren’t afraid of looking guilty. After all, innocent people had nothing to hide. On the flip side, perhaps their anger for each other was just too much to keep bottled up.
The deep divide between the suspects wasn’t the only oddity I spotted. The entire time I had known Andrew’s wife, she had always worn gaudy outfits. Leah Stewart’s wardrobe seemed to consist of nothing but bright clothes and garish jewelry. That morning, I discovered that she owned at least one understated outfit.
The blond, trim fifty-eight-year-old wore all black to the funeral. In addition, her neck, ears, and wrists were absent of any jewelry. It was a completely different Leah than I had ever seen before. She was certainly playing the part of a mourning widow. But was it just an act?
That was all yet to be determined. In the meantime, I pushed my sleuthing aside for a moment to say a last good-bye to Andrew. I approached his closed casket and paid my respects.
“I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” I said. “You deserved so much better than this.” I found myself getting choked up and had to take a moment to calm myself down. A few deep breaths did the trick. When I had steadied myself, I continued. “I just want you to know that I won’t rest until I find out who did this to you. Justice will be served.”
***
If the tension between the suspects inside the church wasn’t bad enough, the awkwardness spilled out into to parking lot as the funeralgoers exited the service. As I had predicted, emotions were running a little too hot to handle.
They finally boiled over.
It was Andrew’s brother, Hank Stewart, who made the first move, confronting Leah with some harsh words.
Having a strong will of her own, Leah fired back at Hank until the two were in the heat of an argument right there in the middle of the parking lot.
David and I were on the other side of the lot, approaching our respective cars, when the argument broke out. We were too far away to hear the exact words being spoken, but the body language Hank and Leah were giving off made it clear that they had a serious beef with each
other.
Things only escalated from there. When the argument got overly heated between Leah and Hank, Leah’s adult son, Nathan Stewart, stepped in to defend his mother.
I watched in horror as the Stewarts went after each other in the middle of the parking lot. As a law enforcement official, David had a different reaction to the argument. Instinctively, he began to move toward the Stewart’s to break things up. David wouldn’t get the chance to. The Stewart’s hadn’t just gotten the attention of David and me with their arguing.
Their yelling had drawn a crowd. That did not sit well with Hank, who did not seem to enjoy having so many eyes staring at him.
Hank shelved his differences with Leah for the moment in favor of tucking tail and running. He darted off toward his car, putting an abrupt end to the argument.
It turned out that Nathan shunned the spotlight just as much as his uncle did. When Nathan noticed that all eyes were now on him and his mother, he said a quick few words to his mom before also darting away.
In that same vein, Leah took a deep breath to gain her composure before making a beeline for her car. After I watched the Stewarts scurry away in such a mad-dash fashion, my mind couldn’t help but be filled with questions.
I shared my thoughts with David, who looked equally perplexed about what had just happened.
“Is it just me, or was that crazy?” I asked.
David’s eyebrows were arched. “It wasn’t just you.”
Our focus then shifted to the cause of the skirmish.
“What do you suppose that was that about?” I said.
David shrugged. “It beats me.” He was as deadpan as ever with his follow-up. “Although I think it’s safe to say that they won’t be having a big family dinner anytime soon.”
I gave him a wry smile. “If anything, that family looks like it is on the verge of imploding.”
“Which is strange since you’d think something like this would bring them together.” He became pensive. “So why is it tearing them apart?”
I had no answer to that. Instead, another question bounced around my head. “It makes you wonder what was said.”
David sprang into action. “I’ll go ask him.”
“Good luck,” I said.
David’s eyes widened. “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
Chapter Eighteen
David wasn’t the only one who felt compelled to do some digging. I had the inclination to do some investigative work of my own, and I knew exactly who I wanted to start with. From an empathy standpoint, I hated approaching Leah right then, knowing that her emotions were so raw.
Ironically, from a sleuthing perspective, it was the best time to be talking to her. I just wished that those two factors didn’t have to be in such diametric opposition. Then again, solving a murder wasn’t about expressing empathy. It was about uncovering the truth.
I took a few deep breaths, prepared myself as much as I could for my first suspect interview, then walked over to Leah’s car. When I reached her blue sedan, I saw her crying in the driver’s seat. With tears dribbling down her cheeks, her makeup had started running.
I reached into my purse to pull out a tissue. “I’m so sorry.”
Not expecting anyone to be next to her, Leah jumped in her seat when she heard my voice. She put her hand over her heart as her eyes darted toward me.
Leah scolded me. “You scared me to death.”
I hadn’t intended to scare her. To smooth the situation over, I was very contrite. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to do that.”
She remained short with me. “What do you want?”
Leah was clearly in no mood to talk. I didn’t blame her. If I were in her position, I would have wanted to be left alone. That said, there was information that I sought to obtain from her, and I was determined to get it. If I was going to be successful, I would have to get her to warm up to me.
“I just wanted to extend my sympathies,” I said. “It must be a terrible time for you.”
She had a harrowed look in her eyes as she replied, “It is.”
It made for a difficult segue, but I had to address Andrew’s murder. “Knowing your husband’s killer is still out there must only make it worse.”
Her face stiffened. There was intense pain in her eyes. “Bringing it up doesn’t make it better.”
Uh-oh.
I was losing my grip on this conversation. It was vital to get her back in my corner. I wanted to get her to see me as a friend, not as a foe. It was time to make another attempt to get her to open up to me. “I meant that it is hard to fully move on when the killer is still out there. I hope the guilty party is brought to justice.”
She softened a little. “Thank you.”
Even though she was no longer curt with me, her interest in this conversation was still negligible.
That made the next question even harder to ask. I mustered all the courage I had. “In light of that, I was wondering if you can give some information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Anything that might help me figure out who did this to your husband.”
Leah scoffed. “You have come to the wrong person.”
As much as I was empathetic to the emotionally precarious position she was in, I didn’t believe her answer one bit. It didn’t seem possible that she had no useful information of any kind. After all, she was married to the man. She couldn’t be completely in the dark as to who might have wanted Andrew dead.
“He was your husband. You knew him better than anyone,” I said.
She nodded. “True.”
“So do you have any idea who might have done this?”
She became defensive. “I didn’t do it.”
That was curious. I hadn’t accused her of murdering her husband, yet she felt compelled to proclaim her innocence. To me, that was highly suspicious.
At the same time, I was walking a tightwire here, and this interview could get away from me in a hurry if I pushed too far too soon. I had to talk her down from the heights as quickly as possible.
“I didn’t accuse you of anything,” I replied. “I was just wondering if you knew who might have wanted your husband dead.”
She shrugged. “Do I look like a detective to you?”
“No. I’m just saying that any help would be really appreciated. Did anyone have a beef with him?”
Finally, a name came to her mind. “His mistress.”
My eyes widened. “Mistress?”
She nodded. “Melissa Wilcox. They recently had a falling out.”
Leah had gotten way ahead of me. I was still hung up on her previous point. “Wait. Andrew was cheating on you?”
She got choked up. “Unfortunately.”
My heart went out to her. “I’m so sorry.”
Her emotions were as raw as ever. “I really want to leave.”
I put my arm up in hopes of stopping her. “I understand that this must be difficult to talk about—”
“It is.”
“But it could also be very important in solving your husband’s murder. When you say your husband and his mistress had a falling out—”
Leah shut me down. “Talk to Melissa about it. I’m done.”
I left the topic of Andrew’s mistress alone. After all, there was another major detail to discuss before she drove off. “Mrs. Stewart, I just have one more question for you.”
Leah fumbled through her purse for her car keys. “Can’t it wait?”
“I’ll make it really quick.”
She let out a sigh. “Fine.”
There was no time to waste. That meant I had to launch right into my next topic without any preface. “When I asked you who had a beef with your husband, I figured you would have mentioned Hank. Judging by that argument you just had with your brother-in-law, you two looked like you haven’t been getting along that well recently.”
Her face got red. “That looked worse than it was.”
I gave her a critical stare. “What were y
ou two just arguing about?”
“Emotions are high right now.”
“I imagine they are,” I replied. “What specifically were Hank’s emotions running high about?”
Leah was exasperated. “He was upset about having been fired.”
The whole Stewart family worked at the chocolate shop—Andrew, Leah, Nathan, and Hank. Correction—Hank used to work at the shop. This new detail about Hank having been fired was explosive.
Now I was getting somewhere. Talk about a lead. Suddenly, Hank was drenched in motive.
“Fired, huh?” I replied.
Leah nodded.
As juicy as that detail was, part of her story didn’t add up.
“Did you fire him?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Andrew did.”
“Then why was Hank yelling at you?”
“He blames me for losing his job. Hank is convinced that I was the one who pressured Andrew to give him the boot.”
“What’s your side of the story?”
“Andrew knew that his brother was nothing but trouble. I mean, how many times could Hank show up to work drunk and still keep his job? But just because Andrew knew what needed to happen didn’t make it easy for him to pull the trigger.”
“Do you think Hank was upset enough about his brother firing him to kill him?”
She scratched her forehead. “Well, Hank does know how to hold a grudge. Besides, without a job, he was going to have a hard time paying his rent. Then again, with Andrew dead, Hank stood to inherit a fair amount of money.”
“Hank is listed in Andrew’s will, then?”
Leah sighed. “Unfortunately. I begged Andrew to change his will, but my husband had a soft spot for his loser brother.”
Very interesting. I would have pressed further, but Leah grabbed the keys to her car and put them in the ignition. I had to get to my last topic before she left the parking lot.
“What about your son?” I asked.
Leah narrowed her eyes at me like a protective female lion who would fight to the death to defend her cub. “What about him?”
Chocolate With A Side Of Murder Page 8
