Murder and Layer Cake
Meredith Potts
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter One
“Have you figured out who killed my brother?” Melissa Maxwell asked.
By that point in the investigation, I really thought the answer would be yes. Unfortunately, I did not have good news to share with my old friend.
It wasn’t due to lack of effort. I had conducted five suspect interviews that afternoon. Yet all I had to show for it was frustration.
While I talked on the phone, my detective husband, David Carlson, stood beside me looking equally exasperated. This wasn’t the first case that had failed to go our way. In all candor, it probably wouldn’t be the last. What made this particular case stand out was the added pressure associated with it. Typically during a low point in our investigation, David and I didn’t find ourselves fielding a frantic phone call from the grieving sister of the murder victim.
That said, my heart went out to Melissa. I knew what it was like to lose a loved one. It was an awful enough experience when death came from a natural cause. But for Melissa’s brother to have been murdered was tragic beyond words. Adding salt to the wound was the fact that the killer was still on the loose. If that wasn’t a recipe for a panic attack, I didn’t know what was.
“David and I are working on it,” I said.
Melissa’s voice cracked as she replied, “What if the killer gets away?”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I promise—”
“Sabrina, don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” Melissa said.
“I promise that we’re going to do everything in our power to catch the person who did this,” I said.
Melissa groaned. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. That someone murdered him. What kind of a monster would do such a thing?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“Are you leaning toward anyone at least?”
“Melissa, when we have answers, trust me, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Is that a no then?”
I knew what she wanted me to say. That we were close to wrapping this investigation up. That the killer would be behind bars by the end of the night. But that was just wishful thinking. I didn’t want to give her false hope.
I also wasn’t about to tell her the brutal truth. In her fragile emotional state, she didn’t need to hear that the killer’s identity was just as much of a mystery to us now as it was when the case began.
“We have our suspicions, but nothing conclusive,” I said.
Melissa groaned. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
I grimaced. “Look. I hate to cut this conversation short, but David and I really need to get back to work.”
“Right,” Melissa said. “Of course.”
“I’ll let you know when I have any more news.”
“I hope it’s soon.”
I hung up the phone and muttered to myself, “So do I.”
Chapter Two
I stood silently, gritting my teeth as I put my phone back in my purse.
My forty-seven-year-old husband leaned against his car, patiently waiting for me to collect my thoughts. He was five-eleven and muscular, with short black hair and a square, clean-shaven face. But what I noticed most about him right then was the concerned look in his soulful brown eyes.
When I didn’t utter a word for nearly ten seconds, he decided to break the silence. “You look like you need a hug.”
“What I really need is for us to find Mark Wilcox’s killer,” I said.
“Eventually we’re going to uncover the murderer. For the time being, I can offer you a hug.”
I took him up on his offer. He pulled me in close and held me tight.
“Melissa isn’t as convinced that we’ll be able to catch the killer,” I said.
“We’ll figure it out,” David said. “We always do.”
“I just can’t help but feel awful for Melissa. She’s in really rough shape.”
“That’s understandable, given the circumstances.”
“Absolutely. If I were her, I’d be a basket case too. I mean, when my sister…”
I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence. It was difficult for me not to get choked up when I spoke about my sister. With good reason. A number of decades ago, my older sister Jessica was murdered. She was only nineteen-years-old at the time.
Even though over a quarter of a century had passed since I lost my sister, her death still stung. I didn’t talk about her much, as doing so made me weep, but I thought about Jessica every day.
This was one of the rare instances when I referred to my sister in a conversation. Although, with the nature of this current investigation, it was almost inevitable that Jessica’s name would come up sooner or later. Cases involving the death of a sibling always got to me the most.
The one key difference was that Jessica’s killer was behind bars. Mark Wilcox’s killer, meanwhile, was still out there somewhere.
I had to find a way to muster enough resolve to keep my emotions from getting the better of me.
David had a concerned look on his face as he gazed at me. He reached into his pocket. “Do you want a tissue?”
“No,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Thanks for asking, but now is not the time to cry over the past. It’s time to hunker down. The pressure is on.”
David exhaled and replied sarcastically, “Just what we need.”
“I know. As if there wasn’t enough pressure on us already.”
“Melissa knows that murder investigations take time, doesn’t she?”
I nodded. “I told her that earlier. But it doesn’t matter. She’s not in a position to listen to reason right now. She just lost her brother. She doesn’t care how we find the killer—just that we find the person who is responsible for his death.”
David groaned. “Cases like this make me consider early retirement.”
“I hear you. The problem is, if it wasn’t us out here tracking down this killer, it would be someone else. And you have to admit, we’re the best this town has,” I said.
“True,” David said. “Yet here we are, stumped.”
“We have to find a way to come through for her. She’s depending on us.”
In truth, Melissa wasn’t the only one relying on us. The entire town of Treasure Cove was banking on us being able to nab the killer. More specifically, my ten-year-old daughter. Ever since I became a parent, I had developed a heightened sense of urgency. It unnerved me knowing a killer was on the loose in the same town that my little girl called home. A shiver went down
my spine as I thought about it.
I wanted my daughter to have the happiest childhood possible. I was also in no hurry for her to become an adult. There was plenty of time for her to grow up. At this stage of her life, she didn’t need to know about the seedy underbelly of the world. I was determined to shield her from that for as long as I could.
“We will come through,” David said. “We’re just off to a rough start.”
I stared off into the distance. “The answer is out there somewhere. But where?”
“I wish I knew. But I can say this. Now is not the time to get frustrated,” he said.
“Really? Because now seems like exactly the time,” I said.
“It’s still early in the case.”
“That’s part of the problem. It’s too early to be out of leads,” I said. “Yet we are.”
David held his pointer finger up. “I know what you need.”
“A big break would be nice,” I mumbled.
“I was going to say cake, but a break would work too.”
“Although, a break in the investigation followed by some celebratory cake would be the best.”
“In that case, I’m ready to put this case to bed more than ever.”
“Don’t get too excited. I don’t actually have a genius hunch. I was just speculating about how great it would be if I did.”
Disappointment came to David’s voice. “Way to get my mouth watering for nothing.”
“That said, maybe getting some cake would spark an idea,” I said.
“Sounds like wishful thinking,” he said.
“You’re probably right. Staying focused on the investigation is probably the best course of action.”
David scrunched his nose. “If you believe that then why do you have such a deflated look on your face?”
“Because I’m completely worn down. I mean, despite everything I just told you, another part of me just wants to go home and get some rest and relaxation.”
“I certainly can’t blame you for being exhausted.”
“So it’s safe to say that I’m torn.”
“I’m right there with you.”
“It’s just so tough to know what the right decision is,” I said.
“Is it? Or are we just letting our taste buds get the better of us?”
“Are you saying we should get back to work?”
“Can you argue with that decision?”
I shook my head. “No. The problem is, we’ve already questioned each of the suspects once. So where do we go from here?”
David remained quiet for a few moments.
It quickly became clear that he wasn’t just being pensive. Whether he was willing to admit it or not, he didn’t have an answer to my question.
“So?” I said.
He shook his head. “I’m drawing a blank. How about you?”
“My vote is for cake,” I said.
“Didn’t we just talk about this?”
“Yes. But you know how hard it is to think on an empty stomach. Maybe a piece of cake is just what we need to get the creative juices flowing.”
Chapter Three
In my years investigating, I had learned a lot. Some wisdom was harder earned than others. One kernel of truth was so basic that it would never be put in any field manual, yet it was crucial. While it seemed counterintuitive, taking a break often yielded the biggest dividends. Especially when I used that break to grab some brain food.
The time away from the case allowed me to pull back and look at things with a wider lens while the food gave me the chance to reenergize. That proved especially true when David convinced me to get a full meal rather than just dessert.
With the cake shelved until later, my mouth found something new to water over—a sausage, pepperoni, and mushroom pizza. It was David’s fault. He put the idea in my mind. Once it was there, it refused to leave.
I couldn’t help but say yes. After all, I only had so much will power. Especially when it came to pizza.
I knew the treadmill at the gym would make me pay for this decision later, but that was a choice I was willing to make.
There was one definitive place to get pizza in town—Luigi’s. That was where we headed. On the drive over there, we passed by the Pacific Ocean. Even though I had lived in Treasure Cove my entire life, one thing really struck me—my hometown was still as beautiful as ever.
There were a number of scenic towns on the central coast of California, but Treasure Cove was the most picturesque. Tourists flocked here in the summer for the sand, the sun, and the surf. The rest of the year, it was a sleepy little place that the locals savored.
A little under thirty-thousand people called Treasure Cove home. Aside from the ocean, a historic Main Street district and a large collection of Victorian-era homes were the big tourist draws. Of course, the weather didn’t hurt. It never seemed to get too hot or too cold in town. When you combined all those factors, it wasn’t hard to see why it was a real treasure of a place. Which made it all the more surprising that any murders would ever take place here. Yet they did.
***
A few minutes later, we arrived at Luigi’s. By the time the pizza was ready, I was chomping at the bit. It didn’t take me long to devour a few slices. A smile was on my face the entire time. The pizza was just so delicious. Not to mention filling. So much for cake. I didn’t have room for it anymore.
Neither did David. What he did have, though, was a renewed spirit.
“What a difference pizza makes, huh?” David said.
I nodded. “Tell me about it. I feel like a different woman.”
“You know what they say about carbs coming to the rescue.”
I scrunched my nose. “That’s not a known saying.”
“We could always make it one.”
“I don’t feel like it would catch on.”
“Maybe not in a room full of dieticians. But I think my saying could have legs.”
“What a difference a pizza makes has a much better ring to it. Plus, it would be the perfect advertising tagline for this business.”
“I don’t doubt that, but Luigi’s doesn’t seem like it’s having trouble attracting customers,” David said.
“No, this place does just fine on its own,” I said.
As much as I loved random banter, there was a case to solve. David had brought the case file along with him to the pizzeria. I opened it up and stared at a few pages from the file. While I wrestled with a number of theories, I didn’t vocalize any of them.
My abrupt silence produced an awkward pause in the conversation.
David grew tired of waiting for me to speak up. “Are you really going to leave me hanging here?”
I looked up from the file. “Sorry. I was just thinking about the case.”
“What part?”
I squinted. “Someone is lying to us.”
David threw his arms out. “What else is new?”
“I know, right? Murder suspects being untruthful. It’s almost hard to believe,” I joked.
“If anything, the real question is, who was telling the truth to us?”
“Maybe none of them were.”
“That’s certainly a possibility.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time every one of the suspects in a case lied to us.”
I looked down at the file again. A photo of the crime scene, in particular, caught my interest. Once again, I became quiet.
“You can stare at that photo as long as you want,” David said. “But the details aren’t going to change.”
“I know. I just can’t help but feel like we’re missing something,” I said.
“And you think the answer is in that photo?”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“Forensics went over every inch of the crime scene—”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“All right. No, I don’t have a better idea.”
I groaned as I continued staring at the photo. “It’s a shame we can’t
give the suspects lie detector tests.”
“You always say that,” David replied.
“Because it’s true.”
“It’s also not legal.”
“I know. A woman can dream, can’t she?”
David chuckled. “You have some pretty weird dreams.”
“That’s what happens when life turns into one big nightmare on you.”
“Hey, it’s only a matter of time before the killer slips up.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“You don’t sound all that optimistic.”
“I’m not nearly as optimistic as you are,” I said. “Your gut must be telling you something different than mine is.”
“What is your gut telling you exactly?” he asked.
I looked down at the crime scene photograph again. “I think we should pay another visit to Mark’s house.”
“All right. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Four
David and I got up from the table and headed toward the front door of the pizzeria. Our plan of visiting the crime scene again took a quick detour when we ran into Felicia Wilcox in the parking lot of Luigi’s. Felicia was Mark Wilcox’s widow. She had just gotten out of her car when she saw us approaching her.
The red-haired forty-six-year-old had blue eyes, an oval face, a petite figure, and zero interest in speaking with us.
David tried to start the conversation off on the most congenial note possible. “Felicia. Funny running into you here,” he said.
Felicia scowled. “Funny is the last word I’d use to describe this situation.”
“You’re not still angry with us, are you?” David said. “Because it was my duty as a detective to ask certain questions.”
Those questions had been posed earlier in the day, when we interviewed her regarding her husband’s murder. Things had gotten very tense. Unfortunately, her mood had not lightened since then.
Felicia turned back toward her car. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m out of here.”
“Where are you going?” David asked.
“It’s none of your business,” Felicia said.
“But you just got here,” David said. “You don’t want to leave without pizza, do you?”
Murder and Layer Cake Page 1
