With all that information digested, I set out to crack this case myself.
Chapter Two
My first stop was on the north side of town. Denise Carlisle lived in a blue Victorian-style house on Elmhurst Drive. There was a big oak tree in her front yard that provided ample shade to her home.
I parked in her driveway, approached her front door, and prayed for the best. Thankfully, she answered her door after my first set of knocks. Although, she did not seem happy to have company.
The tall and slender fifty-two-year-old had her wavy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail which made me notice how round her face was. I also couldn’t help but notice the heartbroken look in her eyes.
“Can I help you?” Denise asked.
“I hope so,” I said. “I need to talk to you about your husband’s murder.”
Her eyebrows knitted. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
I outstretched my hand. “My name is Sabrina Carlson. I’m the wife of police detective David Carlson.”
“I already told the police everything I know.”
“I understand that. I just have a few follow up questions for you.”
“Really? I mean, the detective I spoke to a few days ago was really thorough.”
“I’ll bet he was. That said, this won’t take long.”
Denise bit the corner of her lip and stared at me for a moment before responding, “All right. What do you want to know?”
“First, I’d like to say that I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“So am I. This has been a complete nightmare.”
“I’ll bet. But don’t worry. Your husband’s killer will be apprehended.”
“Speaking of, are you close to figuring out who did this?”
“We’re getting there,” I said. “That’s where you come in.”
Denise’s forehead wrinkled. “Me?”
I nodded. “You see, sometimes after a few days have gone by, new details might emerge in your mind that you didn’t remember during the first interview. Depending on the detail, it could be really helpful in solving the case. So, at the risk of sounding repetitive, will you please tell me where you were on the night of your husband’s murder?”
“I was at the movies.”
“What movie?”
“Love’s Unstoppable Wings.”
“I’ve heard good things about that.”
“It’s really good. I think you’d like it.”
“I am a sucker for romance,” I said. “Which brings up an interesting point. Who did you see the movie with?”
“No one. I went alone.”
My eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you take your husband?”
“He doesn’t like romantic movies. So, I decided to go alone.”
“What? Weren’t any of your friends available?”
“No. They all had plans.”
“All right,” I said. “What theater did you go to?”
“The Treasure Cove Vintage Theater.”
My eyes widened. “Is that so?”
“You sound surprised,” Denise said.
“Do you happen to have your ticket stub?”
She shook her head. “No. I threw it out.”
“That’s a shame. In more ways than one.”
Denise’s nose scrunched. “What are you talking about?”
“What made you want to see a movie at the Treasure Cove Vintage Theater?” I asked. “Almost everyone I know goes to Treasure Cove South Side Cinemas. Especially with those comfortable seats and the amazingly large screens.”
“The Vintage Theater is closer to my house. Besides, I like to support the Vintage. If people stop going there, it might close.”
“Uh-huh.” I scratched my chin. “So you didn’t choose to see a movie at the Vintage because they don’t have any security cameras?”
“No.”
“I suppose you also didn’t realize that you could buy a ticket at the Vintage, wait for the lights to dim, and then slip out the back without anyone being wiser?”
Denise put her hands on her hips. “I don’t like where this conversation is going.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t like the fact that Joe was murdered and that his killer is still out there.”
“Trust me. No one is more heartbroken about that than me. I want my husband’s killer to be thrown in jail as soon as possible.”
“In that case, help me out.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t even know what you’re doing here. I didn’t kill Joe.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“I’d really like to believe that.”
“No one is stopping you.”
“Mrs. Carlisle, let me explain something to you. A story is only as believable as my ability to verify it. In your case, there’s no way to do that.”
“Hey, if you want to find Joe’s killer, why don’t you talk to George Stratford? Or Richard Pinkston? They both had plenty of reasons to want my husband dead.”
“Is that so?”
Denise nodded.
“What reasons are those?” I asked.
“Richard Pinkston offered to buy Treasure Cove Appliances from George and Joe.”
“Let me guess. George wanted to sell the business but Joe didn’t.”
“Exactly. But since George and Joe were fifty-fifty partners, no sale could be made without the approval of both of them.”
“And Joe refused to budge,” I said.
“He sure did,” Denise said. “Now do you understand why you should be talking to George and Richard?”
“I will talk to them.”
“Good.”
“When I’m done with you.”
“I have news for you,” Denise replied. “You are done with me, because I have nothing else to say.”
I held up my hand. “I beg to differ.”
“You can beg all you want, but this conversation is over,” Denise said.
Chapter Three
I knew the investigation wouldn’t be easy, but that interview didn’t help matters any. Talk about a rocky start. That conversation was far briefer than I wanted it to be. The problem was, since I wasn’t an actual police detective, I didn’t have a badge to flash. And without official law enforcement credentials, I could not force suspects to talk to me.
Instead of lingering on that lousy interview, I decided to move on. Perhaps I would have better luck with the next suspect on my list. After I got back into my car, I drove over to Treasure Cove Appliances to speak with Joe Carlisle’s business partner, George Stratford.
Much to my surprise, I barely managed to pull into the parking lot of the appliance store before I saw something highly peculiar. At the back door of the store, George Stratford was having a conversation with his biggest business rival, Richard Pinkston. Richard was the owner of Pinkston’s Amazing Appliances.
As I stared at George and Richard, I couldn’t help but wonder what they were discussing. Had Denise been correct? Did George want to sell the business to Richard?
Unfortunately, I was too far away to hear specifics. And if I headed over there, surely George and Richard would change the topic of their conversation to keep me from hearing key details.
While I was unable to tell for sure what was being discussed, one thing was certain. The two men were not arguing. Far from it. In fact, for two rival business owners, they sure seemed to be having a pleasant conversation.
***
A few moments later, the conversation between George and Richard ended with a handshake. George then went back inside his store while Richard headed toward his sports car.
Since Richard was right out in the open, I decided to speak with him first. I rushed over to the angular-faced fifty-six-year-old to catch up with him. I knew that the lanky, bespectacled store owner had a serious ego. After all, he insisted on being the center of attention
in each of his many schlocky local TV ads.
Given that fact, I decided to stroke his ego a little.
“Hey, you’re Richard Pinkston. I see your TV commercials all the time. Wow, it’s not every day that I run into a celebrity.”
“I’m not sure that I’d call myself a celebrity,” Richard said.
“Sure you are. Don’t be modest. Everyone in Treasure Cove knows you.”
Richard puffed his chest out. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m actually really glad I ran into you.”
Richard’s eyebrows rose. “Why is that?”
“Because now I can ask for your autograph. You see, my friend spotted you at Antonio’s Ristorante on Tuesday night, but she was too shy to go over to your table and bother you.”
“I’m afraid that your friend was mistaken,” he said. “I wasn’t at Antonio’s on Tuesday.”
My nose crinkled. “No?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I was working late at my store.”
“Really? But I thought your place closed at seven.”
“We close to the public at seven. But there’s always plenty of work to do in the back.” Richard then scratched his chin. “Why does it matter when we close?”
“I’m just curious.”
He suddenly gave me a wary look. “Uh-huh.”
I could tell that the flattery I had thrown his way had worn off. If I wanted answers, I needed to start getting down to business. “You know, there’s a rumor going around that you’re looking to buy Treasure Cove Appliances.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“That doesn’t matter,” I said. “What’s really important is the other rumor I heard about Joe not wanting to sell his half of the business.”
Richard squinted. “Where are you going with this?”
“I just think it’s a weird coincidence. Joe didn’t want to sell his part of the business. Then Joe turns up dead. And now a few days later you’re here talking with Joe’s business partner.”
“How did you know that? Were you spying on us?”
I shook my head. “No. I just happened to see you two talking a few minutes ago. Then I started thinking, with Joe gone, there’s nothing stopping George from selling the business to you—”
Richard put his hand up. “I’m going to stop you right there. I’d be careful throwing around accusations if I were you.”
“If I’m wrong, correct me.”
He stared me down. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know who you are.”
“I’m just someone who is looking for the truth.”
He folded his arms. “I wouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.” He began approaching his sports car again. “I’m walking away. Don’t follow me.”
I threw out my arms. “Where are you going?”
“I need to get back to work.”
As Richard got into his car, I kept wishing there was a way that I could get him to stay, but I had no choice but to let him leave.
Chapter Four
As Richard drove away, I let out a groan. I was getting really tired of these abbreviated conversations. The problem was, there was only so much I could do as an amateur sleuth operating on my own. I just had to pray that George Stratford would give me more to work with.
George greeted me almost immediately after I entered the front door of the appliance store. Like a true salesman, he had his pitch ready. “Welcome to Treasure Cove Appliances. Can I interest you in a new washing machine?”
As I stared at the heavyset forty-seven-year-old, I couldn’t help but focus on what little hair he had. I couldn’t tell whether it was due to genetics or the stress of this job, but the odds were strong that he would be completely bald by the time he hit fifty.
While I was focused on George’s remaining hair follicles, he continued speaking. “Right now we’re having a blowout sale.”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m not interested in a washing machine.”
“How about a fridge? A number of manufacturer’s are offering some incredible rebates.”
“I’m actually not here to buy an appliance.”
George’s nose scrunched. “Why are you here then?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Joe.”
A look of sorrow came to George’s face. “Haven’t you heard the news? Joe passed away a few days ago.”
“Passed away? Don’t you mean he was murdered?”
George bit the corner of his lip. “I was trying to avoid saying the word murder.”
“You can try to avoid it all you want, but it’s not going to change what happened to him.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I was devastated when I heard the news.”
“So was I. When I left work on Tuesday afternoon, I had no idea that would be the last time I would ever see him alive.”
My eyes widened. “Wait. If you finished working in the afternoon, then where were you Tuesday night?”
“At home watching the Marauders ball game.” His nose crinkled. “Why?”
“I was just curious,” I said.
Before George became suspicious of me, I decided to quickly change the subject.
“You know, it’s crazy to think that Joe’s killer is still out there,” I said.
George grimaced. “Yeah.”
“Do you have any idea who might be behind this?” I asked.
George shook his head. “I have no clue.” His eyebrows then knitted. “Wait a minute. Why would you ask me a question like that? Who are you?”
“I’m Sabrina. But my name isn’t nearly as important as who I’m married to.”
He folded his arms. “And who is that?”
“Detective David Carlson.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, what’s the big idea? A police detective already asked me a bunch of questions and I told him that I had nothing to do with Joe’s death. End of story.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t the end of the story.”
He threw out his arms. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you tell the other police detective that you might be selling this business to Richard Pinkston?”
“How did you know about that?”
“To start, I just spoke with Pinkston.”
“All right. For the sake of argument, let’s say I decide to sell this store. I don’t understand how that has anything to do with Joe’s murder.”
“George, I have it on good authority that Joe didn’t want to sell this store. But now that he’s gone, there’s nothing stopping you from unloading this place.”
“That’s it. This conversation is over.”
“Mr. Stratford, why don’t you just calm down?”
George pointed at the front door. “Here’s a better idea. Why don’t you leave? And never come back.”
***
That conversation sure got out of hand in a hurry. George really flew off the handle. For someone who claimed he was innocent, George certainly looked guilty.
Unfortunately, since I had no proof that he had done anything wrong, I couldn’t really do much but head back to my car.
Normally, at that point, I would have moved on to the next suspect. In this case, there wasn’t anyone else to talk to.
Instead, I had to come up with a plan about what to do next.
Ultimately, I decided to grab a bite to eat.
When I was done with my meal, I figured the best course of action was to head home to regroup.
Chapter Five
That evening, when I pulled into the driveway of my green Victorian-style home, I was exhausted. With good reason. Questioning murder suspects was always a tiring experience. Especially when they were reluctant to volunteer information.
After such a difficult afternoon, a soak in a warm tub seemed like a really good way to wind down. I always felt better after taking a bath.
I was certain that this time would be no different.
But I was getting ahead of myself. While my mind was already on relaxation, I hadn’t even gotten out of my car yet. I shifted my sedan into park and reached over to the passenger seat to retrieve my purse.
From there, I turned back toward my driver’s-side door.
That was when I saw Denise Carlisle standing in my driveway pointing a gun at me.
At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was this really happening?
When Denise barked an order at me, the gravity of the situation became crystal clear. “Don’t make any sudden moves.”
“Denise, what are you doing?” I asked.
She scowled at me. “We’re going to take a little ride.”
Chapter Six
Death was staring me down and I was doing my best not to blink. With a gun pointed directly at me, however, keeping my cool was nearly impossible. That said, if I was going to survive that evening, I would need to find a way to hold myself together.
At that moment, the only thing working in my favor was that Denise Carlisle didn’t have much experience with firearms. All I had to do was take one look at her unsteady hand to know that.
Even so, Denise was not to be taken lightly. With her standing at such a close range, all she had to do was pull the trigger of the pistol she was holding and it would be lights out for me.
My palms began to sweat as I looked at the barrel of the gun. That wasn’t all, though. My knees got really weak. From there, I began to tremble. Without a doubt, that was the most terrifying moment of my entire life.
In all honesty, it was difficult to even form a rational thought right then. I just kept getting little flashes in my mind. Each one was more horrifying than the next. All of them involved me dying in one way or another.
Instead of completely giving in to my fears, I tried to reason with Denise. “Please don’t kill me—”
“Save your breath. Sabrina, you can plead with me all you want, but it’s not going to work,” Denise said.
I didn’t take her advice. “Before you do anything crazy, I’m begging you to stop and think this through.”
Sabrina Carlson Cozy Mystery Anthology Page 10
