Murder and Layer Cake

by Meredith Potts

  “I just lost my appetite,” Felicia said.

  “Or maybe you’re just trying to avoid talking to us,” I said.

  “Hey, it’s a free country. If I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t have to,” Felicia said.

  I nodded. “True. But you do realize that by leaving so abruptly, it makes you look suspicious.”

  “It shouldn’t,” Felicia snapped.

  “I disagree,” I said.

  There were plenty of reasons to suspect Felicia. To start, a jaded spouse made for a prime murder suspect. Felicia definitely fit that bill, given the fact that Mark had been cheating on her. In addition, she had no verifiable alibi for the time of the murder. In the middle of our previous interview, she told us that she was with a friend during the evening that her husband was killed. But when we called this friend, she revealed to us that Felicia hadn’t arrived at her house until after the time of the murder. Felicia then revised her story and said that she had taken a drive to clear her head before going over to her friend’s house.

  Given that, I continued to remain wary of Felicia’s so-called innocence.

  Felicia, meanwhile, threw out her arms. “Will you give me a break? I just lost my husband.”

  “A husband who was cheating on you,” David said.

  “I just want to grieve,” Felicia said.

  David’s sledgehammer approach wasn’t working. I opted to use a softer touch with Felicia.

  “I understand that. This must be a terrible time for you,” I said.

  “It truly is,” Felicia said.

  “That said, there’s a killer on the loose. And it’s our job to find them,” I replied.

  “So go and do that,” Felicia said.

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

  “Here’s an idea. Go look somewhere else,” Felicia said.

  “You’re not helping us,” I said.

  “I already told you. I had nothing to do with my husband’s death. Now leave me alone.”

  Felicia then got back in her car and drove away.

  David and I could have chased after her, but without any solid evidence against her, we couldn’t force her to talk to us.

  Chapter Five

  After the tense conversation with Felicia Wilcox, there was no doubt in my mind that a trip back to the crime scene was in order. David drove me over to Hickory Drive and pulled his car into the driveway of Mark Wilcox’s light-blue Victorian-style house. There was a slight breeze in the air, rustling the leaves of the oak tree that was in Mark’s front yard. I also heard a few birds chirping in the distance. Other than that, it was incredibly quiet.

  That was just the kind of neighborhood it was. This stretch of Hickory Drive had always been a sleepy part of town. Which made it all the more shocking that a murder had occurred here. It was just another prime example that appearances could be deceiving and that all kinds of awful things took place behind closed doors.

  I stopped on the paved walkway leading to Mark’s porch and looked around.

  By then, David was already at the front door. He glanced to the side and didn’t spot me next to him, so he turned around and gave me a quizzical look.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  My eyes kept scanning the neighborhood. “I was just thinking about how quiet it is on this street.”

  “Yeah. Dead quiet.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Are you sure that’s the best phrasing to use?”

  “You’re right. I could have worded that response better. But given what happened here, it’s a pretty accurate description.”

  As somber as that statement was, I couldn’t disagree with it.

  Instead of lingering on the phrasing of individual sentences, I contemplated the events of the last few days a little more.

  While the forensics team had been hard at work earlier, scouring the property for any pieces of evidence that they could find, various deputies had gone door to door. They spoke with everyone who lived on the street, in hopes that one of them had seen something out of the ordinary that could help identify Mark’s killer.

  After all, it was logical to assume that the sound of a murder taking place would be loud enough to draw the suspicion of the neighbors, especially in a place as quiet as this. Unfortunately, the deputies all returned empty handed, much to David’s bafflement.

  Had the double-paned windows at Mark’s house muffled the sound of his murder taking place inside? Had the killer just been very careful about covering their tracks? Or did Mark’s neighbors go out of their way to stay out of each other’s business? Perhaps the answer was all of the above.

  While my head was deep in the clouds, David’s thoughts were squarely on heading inside the house.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you coming?”

  I nodded.

  Chapter Six

  David and I walked inside the house and headed into the living room, where Mark had been murdered. By that point in the investigation, his body was long gone from the scene. The medical examiner had transported it back to his office for further examination.

  Yet despite all the tests that the crime lab had at their disposal, the identity of the killer remained a mystery. Go figure. Even cutting edge technology was sometimes no match for a killer who was skilled at hiding their identity.

  I looked down at the ground, where Mark’s body had been found. I started to get choked up. I had stared at the crime scene photographs for so long that it was nearly impossible to keep the image of Mark’s corpse from popping into my mind. As disturbing as that image was, I needed to find a way to move on. I did my best to push forward and went over the details of the case in my head again.

  The official cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. The murder weapon was a twelve-inch steel wrench, which was found right beside the body. That was peculiar, mostly because I assumed that the killer would have wanted to dispose of the murder weapon. Unless the wrench had specifically been left at the scene to point the finger of suspicion at someone connected to the auto repair shop that Mark owned.

  The wrench itself was clean of fingerprints. There was no way to tell if the killer had worn gloves or had wiped the wrench before leaving the scene. There was no signs of forced entry, which indicated that Mark most likely knew his killer. Other than the murder weapon itself, the forensics team was unable to find any additional pieces of evidence.

  While I was deep in thought, David was antsy.

  “All right. We’re here.” He shrugged. “Now what?”

  I scanned the room, trying to observe every little detail of my surroundings. “Just give me a minute.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “To do what?”

  Some people had the ability to focus so intently that everything else faded into the background. I was not that type of person.

  I gazed at him with pleading eyes. “I know you don’t always agree with my process, but it would be great to have a few moments of silence right now.”

  “Okay. Whatever you say,” he replied.

  David shut his mouth and took a few steps back, giving me room to work.

  After the big deal I had just made, I really hoped that some kind of revelation would come to me. Or that some new piece of evidence might come to light. Really, anything that would help us.

  According to the medical examiner, Mark was killed between ten and eleven o’clock at night. His body wasn’t discovered until the following morning when his wife arrived home from her friends’ house.

  I kept looking around the room, hoping to stumble upon something the forensics team had missed.

  My efforts proved fruitless.

  After five minutes of scouring the living room, I gave up and let out a big groan.

  “That’s not what I want to hear,” David said.

  “I’m sorry for wasting your time,” I said.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. This wasn’t a waste.”

  I chuckled. “Are you kidding? We came all the way over her
e and have nothing to show for it. That’s pretty much the definition of a waste. You don’t have to gloss over the truth because we’re married,” I said.

  “I’m not speaking as your husband. I’m talking as someone who has investigated a lot of cases,” he said. “You had a hunch that didn’t work out. It happens.”

  “The thing is, I’m not sure if it was a hunch or just a desperate move.”

  “Sometimes, desperation is the only move. After all, this isn’t some Hollywood movie where the detective just gets some random lucky break when they happen to need it the most. You know just as well as I do that in real life, you end up hitting some dead ends.”

  “Too many dead ends.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me about that,” he said. “The fact is, in order to discover the truth, more often than not, you have to try everything.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. You’re saying all the right things. But emotionally, that doesn’t stop me from wanting to just scream.”

  “I’m right there with you. I just wish it would help.”

  I threw out my arms. “What is going to help at this point?”

  He shrugged.

  I groaned again.

  “Look. I know you’re frustrated, but don’t get so down on yourself. I mean, if we’re honest, you had to know it was a longshot coming back here and having it lead to some big break,” David said.

  “I know. I just felt like it was a shot that was worth taking,” I said.

  “Fair enough,” he replied. “But since this was a dead end, we need to move on.”

  “Do you have any ideas about where to go from here?”

  He nodded. “One comes to mind.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I don’t know about you, but that conversation with Felicia earlier was tenser than ever.”

  “She definitely seemed to be feeling the pressure.”

  “Exactly. And you know what happens when things get hot under the collar for murder suspects.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before one of them cracks.”

  “I say we pay each of the suspects another visit,” David replied.

  “Sounds good to me,” I said. “Who do you want to start with?”

  I became pensive.

  Before I was able to throw out a name, David got a call over his police radio.

  “Detective Carlson,” a male voice said over the radio.

  David answered the call. “Carlson here.”

  “This is Deputy Bell,” the male voice said.

  After speaking with murder suspect Jeremy Bradford earlier in the day, David had assigned Deputy Walter Bell to keep watch over Jeremy.

  “What is it, Bell?” David said.

  “I just caught Jeremy Bradford trying to leave town,” Walter said.

  David’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”

  “Affirmative. I pulled his vehicle over on Route 21. I’m currently detaining him, pending further orders,” Walter said.

  “Stay right where you are. We’ll be there shortly,” David said.

  Chapter Seven

  David and I dashed over to Route 21 where we met up with the deputy. A squad car and a blue sedan were parked at the side of the road when we arrived. Jeremy Bradford impatiently sat in the backseat of the squad car with a foul look on his round face. The brown-eyed forty-eight-year-old stared down at the ground, which only made his head of thinning brown hair stand out even more.

  Deputy Nick Bell opened the driver’s-side door of the squad car and got out to greet us. David pulled his car over to the shoulder and parked behind the squad car.

  David was quick to open his door and made a move toward the deputy’s vehicle. Normally, I followed right behind him.

  This time, I didn’t. My eyes drifted off into the distance, focusing on the surroundings. This was a remote stretch of Route 21, miles from the edge of town. I had traveled this road a number of times before. For the next sixty miles or so, there was nothing but wilderness on either side of this two-lane road. If someone was looking to make a discrete getaway, this was the way to do it.

  David poked his head back into the car.

  “Sabrina, are you coming?” he said.

  His question pulled my head out of the clouds.

  I composed myself and replied, “Yes.”

  David had a concerned look on his face as we approached the deputy’s car.

  “Are you okay?” David said.

  “I’m just glad the deputy pulled Jeremy over when he did,” I said.

  David kept staring at me. I knew he was still worried about me.

  “This is the back road to the middle of nowhere,” I continued.

  David’s eyes scanned the forested area that flanked the road. He had the same faraway look in his eyes that I’d had in mine a few seconds ago.

  But his distraction didn’t last long. When Deputy Bell spoke up, we turned our focus to his words.

  “You two ready to speak with the suspect?” Bell asked.

  David nodded.

  “I’m just going to warn you right now, he isn’t happy to be back there,” Bell said.

  David stared at Jeremy sitting in the backseat of the squad car. “That’s tough. If he didn’t want to be detained, he should have obeyed my orders earlier not to leave town.”

  “I explained that to him, but he could use a little refresher,” Bell said.

  “Thanks, deputy,” David said.

  “Good luck,” Bell said.

  David and I stopped in front of the back window of the squad car.

  Jeremy looked up from the floorboard of the car and shot David a glare.

  “Let me out of here,” Jeremy demanded.

  “Mr. Bradford, what makes you think you’re in a position to make demands?” David asked.

  Jeremy’s outrage continued. “I have rights, you know.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Then let me go.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “You mean you won’t do that,” Jeremy said. “Now I’m going to tell you one last time—”

  “Jeremy, you aren’t the one giving orders here. And what you fail to realize is that I have every right to detain you,” David said.

  “Says who?”

  “The law,” David said. “You’re a murder suspect—”

  “I already told you. I didn’t kill Mark.”

  “I’d like to believe you, but you aren’t giving me much reason to do that,” David said.

  Jeremy’s nose scrunched. “What more do you want from me?”

  “How about following my orders? Or having an alibi for the time of the murder?”

  “Weren’t you listening to me earlier? The evening Mark was killed, I was at home all night.”

  “Mr. Bradford, your alibi is only as believable as my ability to verify it,” David said.

  “It’s not my fault that I was alone.”

  “No, but it is your fault that you disobeyed a direct order. What did you think you were doing, trying to skip town like that?” David asked.

  Jeremy shook his head. “No. That’s not what was happening—”

  David waggled his pointer finger. “Don’t you dare lie to me. We’re miles away from town. There’s only one logical conclusion to draw here. That you were trying to make a break for it.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You see, I own a cabin near Lake McLellan. I thought I’d head out there to clear my head,” Jeremy said.

  While Jeremy could technically get to Lake McLellan this way, most people opted to take the highway instead. With good reason. It was a much faster route. This back road added twenty minutes to the trip. Besides, this far out of Treasure Cove, there were no gas stations or restaurants all the way until you reached the lake.

  Those were all good reasons to question Jeremy’s motivation for taking this road. But even if we were to believe Jeremy’s story about heading to the lake, there were other reasons to suspect him.
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  David squinted. “Say you really were going to the lake—”

  “I was,” Jeremy said.

  “Lake McLellan is right next to the Oak Ridge National Forest. It would be easy for you to walk into the forest and just completely disappear, never to be heard from again,” David said.

  “I told you. I was just going to the lake to clear my head.”

  “So you say, but you can’t prove that.”

  “By that token, you can’t prove that I’m lying.”

  “No. But I can prove that you defied my orders—which were very clear. No suspect is permitted to leave town in the middle of a murder investigation,” David said.

  “I didn’t think this would be a big deal. The lake isn’t that far out of town,” Jeremy said.

  “You thought wrong. Do you have any idea how guilty this makes you look?”

  “You know, you’re spending all this time focusing on me, but really you should be talking to Barbara Franklin.”

  “Why? Has she tried to skip town too?”

  “For the last time, I wasn’t trying to skip town—”

  “You’re going to have a hard time getting me to believe that. Now, back to you—”

  “No. Let’s talk about Barbara,” Jeremy said.

  David folded his arms. “Jeremy, do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Where would you get that idea?”

  “I know what you’re doing. This is classic misdirection. You figure that by pointing the finger of blame at Barbara that the spotlight will no longer be on you anymore.”

  “Aren’t you interested in the truth? Because if you are then you should listen to me,” Jeremy said.

  “Fine. I’ll hear you out. What have you got?” David asked.

  “She was having an affair with Mark,” Jeremy said.

  “We know that,” David said.

  “Do you know that Barbara’s husband found out about his wife’s affair and went completely nuts?” Jeremy asked.

  David nodded. “We sure do.”

  “Okay. Well do you know that Barbara begged Mark to leave his wife so they could be together, but Mark refused?” Jeremy said.