Murder and Layer Cake

by Meredith Potts

  David’s eyes widened. “How do you know this?”

  “Mark was my best friend,” Jeremy said. “Who do you think he confided in during tough times? And let me tell you, Barbara was going through a really rough patch. First, her husband left her. Then Mark turned his back on her too. So she was left with nothing. Talk about someone who had a reason to seek revenge.”

  David folded his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me this the last time we spoke?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeremy said. “It didn’t come up.”

  “Or maybe you weren’t as desperate to deflect suspicion away from yourself as you are now,” David said.

  Jeremy snarled. “You keep twisting things around. That’s not right. You should focus on the facts. Like how crazed Barbara was about losing everything,” Jeremy said.

  “We’ll talk to her about that,” David said.

  “Good. Now let me go.”

  David waggled his pointer finger again. “Not so fast.”

  Jeremy’s eyebrows knitted. “What else do you want from me?”

  I had remained quiet until then. But a point needed to be made. “Barbara isn’t the only one with a motive here. You had a killer reason for wanting Mark dead as well.”

  “Mark was my best friend,” Jeremy said.

  “Which must have made it sting even more when he passed you up for that promotion,” I said.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth,” Jeremy said.

  “Tell me it didn’t burn you. One of your oldest friends, giving someone else that manager job at the repair shop instead of you,” I said.

  “I see what you’re trying to do, but it’s not going to work,” Jeremy said. “Let’s face the facts here. You have nothing concrete on me,” Jeremy said.

  “Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re a flight risk. That’s more than enough grounds to detain you,” David said.

  “For a few days, maybe. No more. I know my rights,” Jeremy said.

  “Keep mouthing off to me and I will haul you back to the station. As far as I can tell, you could use some time to cool off,” David said.

  “Do what you need to do. It’s not going to change the fact that I’m not a killer,” Jeremy said.

  Chapter Eight

  After some careful consideration, David decided against dragging Jeremy back to the police station to detain him overnight. Since we were speaking with each of the suspects for a second time, we had a lot of work ahead of us to get to them all. But David wasn’t about to just let Jeremy roam free. On David’s orders, Deputy Bell tailed Jeremy home. Not just to make certain that Jeremy actually went back to his house, but also to keep tabs on him.

  If Jeremy did decide to leave his house again while this case was still being investigated, the deputy would be close behind him. David felt that would put enough of a scare into Jeremy to keep him from doing something crazy.

  With Jeremy’s every move being tracked, David and I were free to head over to the south side of town to speak with Barbara Franklin.

  During a case like this, keeping focus was of the utmost importance. Which made it all the more distracting when my cell phone rang on the drive over to Barbara’s place. From an investigative perspective, I wanted to ignore the call. As a close friend of Melissa’s, I knew I had to at least check the caller identification screen.

  My instincts were telling me that her anxiety was probably acting up again. So while I felt like I couldn’t blow off the call entirely, I could keep the conversation short.

  Much to my surprise, as I grabbed my phone, I discovered that I was wrong. It wasn’t Melissa calling me.

  Instead, it was my daughter, Jessica Carlson. A sense of panic took hold of me. When this investigation began, David and I had brought Jessica to our woodsy cabin by Lake Ashford. The cabin was tucked away in the wilderness, safely out of town. My parents were at the cabin with Jessica, watching over her. They were joined by my grandmother and our family dog.

  With our loved ones that far out of the line of fire, it gave David and I some peace of mind.

  Most of the time.

  Right then, I feared the worst.

  Had the killer tracked my family down? Were my loved ones in danger? Was the murderer looking to use my daughter’s life as a bargaining chip to keep themselves out of prison?

  It was a horrifying prospect to consider. That said, I had no actual proof of that being the case. I hated that my mind flashed to the worst possible scenario, but I couldn’t help it. I had seen some downright mortifying things in my years of investigating murder cases.

  My voice cracked as I answered the phone. “Jessica, are you okay?”

  “Mommy, I really miss you,” Jessica said.

  The tone of urgency remained in my voice as I replied, “I miss you too. But I need to know—are you safe?”

  “Yeah,” Jessica said.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

  Jessica continued. “I just want to know when you and daddy are going to come and get me.”

  I grimaced. “I can’t really tell you that right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re still in the thick of this case.”

  “You’ve been gone so long, though.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry about that,” I said. “Are you having fun with grandma and grandpa?”

  Jessica did not hesitate with her response. “I want to go home.”

  “I understand that. Just be patient. You’ll be home soon enough.”

  “How soon?”

  “I’m not sure exactly.”

  There was no mistaking the disappointment in Jessica’s voice. “Oh.”

  I hated to hear my daughter so deflated. If only she understood the true gravity of what was at stake, perhaps she would be more patient. Then again, maybe not. After all, she was only ten-years-old. When I was her age, I didn’t even know the meaning of the word patience.

  To this day, at age forty-seven, impatience was a constant fixture in my life, so Jessica didn’t exactly have a great role model in that regard. Go figure. Some things didn’t get any better with age.

  Impatience aside, I didn’t want Jessica to know how bad things were here. As I said before, David and I had done our best to try and shield her from the dirty underbelly of the world. She knew that her father was a detective who solved cases, but we were always careful about keeping the specific details of those investigations from her.

  “I’m sorry. But know this. We’re doing the best we can,” I said.

  “I hope this case is over soon,” Jessica said.

  “I can’t agree with you more,” I said. “Where’s your grandma?”

  Just as I said that, I heard my mother’s voice in the background.

  “Jessica. There you are,” my mother said. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Mommy,” Jessica said.

  “Jessica, honey, will you put your grandma on?” I asked.

  Jessica was reluctant to say yes, but she finally handed the phone off to my mom.

  My mother spoke up. “I’m sorry she called you in the middle of a case.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  My mom insisted on explaining herself. “We were just watching TV. I got up to go to the bathroom and when I came back, I saw Jessica on the phone.”

  “Mom, it’s fine. Really. I was just concerned that something terrible had happened,” I said.

  “No. We’re all safe here at the cabin,” my mom said. “How are things there? Or should I even ask?”

  “We still haven’t caught the killer, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “So am I.” I took a deep breath. “Anyway, I hate to cut this conversation short, but I really need to get back to the case.”

  “Understood,” Elizabeth said. “You be careful out there.”

  “Always,” I said.

  “Goodbye.”

  “Actually, wait.”

  “Wha
t is it?” my mother asked.

  “Before you hang up, can you give the phone back to Jessica?” I said.

  “Of course,” Elizabeth said.

  The phone line went silent for a few seconds.

  I then heard my daughter grab the phone.

  “Mommy,” she said.

  “Honey, I just want you to know that I love you so much,” I said.

  “I love you too,” Jessica said.

  Hearing those words never failed to tug at my heart strings.

  When I got off the phone, it took me a few moments to switch gears. Thankfully, by the time that we reached Barbara Franklin’s street, I had regained my focus.

  Chapter Nine

  David turned right onto Dinsmore Road and approached Barbara Franklin’s beige, Spanish-style house. Much to our surprise, Chuck Tillman, one of the other suspects in the murder, was standing on Barbara’s front patio, pounding on her door.

  We had no idea what Chuck was doing there, but he was certainly worked up about something. The fact that Barbara was not answering her door only got him more heated.

  For a moment, it didn’t seem like anything could deter him from getting Barbara to open up.

  But the sound of David’s car pulling into Barbara’s driveway proved to be quite a distracting force for Chuck. He took one look at the car and then sprinted away unexpectedly. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Where was he going? And why was he in such a hurry to get away from us? While I sat in the passenger seat of the car, in complete shock over Chuck’s extreme reaction, my husband immediately sprang into action.

  David got out of the car and took off after Chuck.

  A foot race was on.

  I snapped out of my brief brain fog, got out of the car, and tailed David.

  I still couldn’t believe that things had gone off the rails so quickly, but I didn’t want to be left in the dust. Even so, as I sprinted after Chuck, I found myself questioning why Chuck hadn’t just stayed on the patio in the first place.

  As the foot race continued, David called out to Chuck.

  “Stop right now,” David yelled.

  Chuck didn’t follow David’s orders. Instead, he kept booking it at full speed.

  David remained undeterred. “This is the police. Stop right now.”

  Once again, Chuck didn’t heed David’s warning. He continued to cut through various front lawns before reaching Owl Road, where Chuck stared down some traffic. Cars whizzed by on Owl Road at forty miles an hour, making it nearly impossible for Chuck to cross the street without risking his life.

  Unlike in the movies when murder suspects threw caution to the wind and darted across a busy street to get to the other side of the road, Chuck stopped on the corner and waited for a break in the traffic.

  Chuck’s hesitation allowed David to catch up to him. For most of the chase, Chuck had been a good fifteen to twenty feet ahead of David. Now David had made up all that ground.

  As David reached the street corner, he drew his gun on Chuck.

  “Put your hands up,” David said.

  Chuck whirled around with a shocked look on his face. He stared down the barrel of David’s gun and was at a complete loss for words.

  What he failed to do was raise his hands.

  “I said, put your hands up,” David continued.

  A look of complete bafflement came to Chuck’s face. “Wait a minute. Detective—?”

  “Hands in the air. Now!” David said.

  This time, Chuck didn’t hesitate. He put his hands up.

  David then went over and handcuffed him.

  Chapter Ten

  With all the sprinting, David and I needed to catch our breath for a few moments. Once we had restored our breathing to a relatively normal rate, we directed our attention to Chuck once again, who looked back at us with a mix of shock and confusion in his eyes.

  “What’s the matter with you, running from a police detective like that?” David said.

  “In my defense, I didn’t realize I was running from the police—” Chuck began to say.

  “Chuck, you’re already in a deep enough hole. Do you really think that lying to me is a good idea?” David asked.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  Chuck nodded.

  “It sure doesn’t sound like the truth,” David said.

  “Look. I’m a lot of things, but crazy isn’t one of them,” Chuck said.

  “Says the man who broke into an all-out sprint to get away from a police detective,” David said.

  “No. You have it all wrong. I would never knowingly run away from the police,” Chuck said.

  David stared him down. “Either you’re really good at playing dumb, or you think I’m a moron. And let me tell you something. I’m no fool.”

  “I never said you were,” Chuck replied.

  “Then stop treating me like one.”

  Chuck’s voice cracked as he replied, “It all happened really fast. I saw a car pull up and immediately took off. I didn’t know it was you behind the wheel.”

  David bit the corner of his lip. “Say I believe you. If you didn’t think I was behind the wheel, then who did you think it was?”

  “Barbara’s estranged husband,” Chuck said.

  I shook my head. “That doesn’t add up. If you truly thought that Trevor Franklin was behind the wheel, then what reason did you have to take off?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Chuck said. “Because that guy is crazy.”

  “So you thought Trevor would get violent with you?” I said.

  Chuck nodded. “There’s a good chance that he killed Mark Wilcox. So why wouldn’t I be afraid that he’d get violent with me?”

  “What makes you say that there’s a good chance Trevor killed Mark?” I asked.

  “Mark was sleeping with Trevor’s wife,” Chuck said. “Revenge is the oldest motive in the book.”

  It was ironic that Chuck brought up that particular motive. Six years ago, Chuck was dating Felicia. Then Felicia broke up with Chuck to be with Mark. All these years later, Chuck was still hung up on Felicia. So it was hardly a stretch to believe that Chuck wouldn’t want a little revenge of his own.

  “Do you have any actual proof that Trevor is the killer?” I said.

  “Well, no, but—”

  David cut Chuck off. “That’s what I thought. Now let’s get back to you sprinting away from Barbara’s door—”

  Chuck groaned. “How many times are you going to make me go over the same point? I didn’t know it was you in the car. You drive the same type of sedan as Trevor. It’s even the same color.”

  That part we couldn’t dispute. When David was a deputy, he drove a squad car. But ever since he became a detective, he has been driving an unmarked blue sedan. Trevor Franklin, meanwhile, had a blue sedan of his own.

  That said, Chuck was still far from in the clear when it came to his behavior.

  “How about when I was running after you? I mentioned multiple times that I was with the police,” David said.

  “I didn’t hear you,” Chuck said.

  David scoffed. “How could you not hear me? I was yelling.”

  “I just didn’t. I was too focused on getting away to pay close attention to what you were saying,” Chuck said.

  David laughed. “Do you have any idea how flimsy your story is?”

  “I’m telling you the truth,” Chuck said.

  “That is still yet to be determined,” David said.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault if you don’t believe me,” Chuck said.

  “I don’t know anyone who would buy your story.”

  “I don’t know what else to tell you then,” Chuck said.

  With tempers flaring, it was time for a cooler head to prevail.

  “Guys. Instead of just arguing, let’s move on for a second.” I turned my focus to Chuck. “Regardless of the true reason that you chose to run away, I can’t help but wonder w
hy you were even here at Barbara’s house in the first place.”

  “Because I wanted to confront her,” Chuck said.

  “About what?” I said.

  “There’s something devious going on with her,” Chuck said.

  “How do you know that?” I said.

  “You’ve talked to her before. Tell me she’s not crazy,” Chuck said.

  David folded his arms. “Is that the best you’ve got? Wild speculation.”

  “There’s something off about her. I feel it in my gut. You know what that’s like, don’t you?” Chuck said.

  “I’m a detective. Of course I know what a gut instinct is,” David said.

  “Then you should be on my side,” Chuck said.

  “I’m not in the business of taking sides. I’m just here to discover the truth,” David said. “On top of that, no one knows better than I do that a gut instinct can only take you so far. You need evidence to back up your suspicions. Do you have any against Barbara?”

  “I already told you, that woman is trouble,” Chuck said.

  “That may or may not be true, but it doesn’t constitute evidence,” David said.

  “Why don’t you talk to her again and see for yourself,” Chuck said.

  I bit the corner of my lip. “Which brings me to another point. If you had such strong suspicions about Barbara, why confront her yourself? Why not just call the police?”

  “I was going to do that,” Chuck said.

  David’s eyebrows rose. “Oh really?”

  Chuck nodded.

  “Then why didn’t you?” David asked.

  “I wanted to see if I could find out some dirt on her before I called 9-1-1.”

  “What made you think you could get dirt on her?” David asked. “You’re not a detective.”

  “This may be news to you, but sometimes people speak more freely when a detective isn’t around,” Chuck said.

  “Do you know that from personal experience?” David asked.

  Chuck tensed up. “Uh…no. It’s just something I’ve heard.”

  David squinted. “You remember what I said to you about lying to a police detective, don’t you?”

  Chuck nodded. “Of course.”