Even if no additional evidence was uncovered, the discovery of the matchbook was still a significant find. If only because it gave David and I a place to begin our investigation.
Chapter Six
David and I had no idea what would come from our trip to Tipsy McCallahan’s, but we were eager to find out. On the drive over to the sports bar, I thought about the two names that were currently on our suspect list. The first was Cheryl McGrath. The second was Logan Little.
Surprisingly, as my husband and I arrived at the bar, we spotted Logan standing out front smoking a cigarette. That was interesting for a number of reasons. To start, it seemed rather early to be hanging out at a bar. Next, I had no clue that Logan was a regular at this watering hole. In addition, the fact that Logan was smoking couldn’t help but stand out in my mind.
Clearly, there were a number of things that we needed to discuss with the pudgy, balding, forty-six-year-old.
David quickly parked the car so we wouldn’t miss this opportunity to speak with Logan out in the open.
As David and I approached the heavyset suspect, he was just finishing his cigarette.
My husband didn’t hesitate to get right down to business. “Mr. Little,” David said. “You’re here pretty early on a Saturday.”
Logan’s forehead wrinkled. “Who are you? And how do you know my name?”
David pulled out his police badge. “My name is Detective David Carlson. And I know quite a bit about you.”
Logan’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. You’re with the police?”
David nodded.
Logan’s nose scrunched. “What do you want with me?”
David put his hand up. “Before you get too worked up, I just want to ask you some questions.”
Logan threw out his arms. “About what?”
“You haven’t heard the news about Jeff Donaldson then?” David asked.
Logan shrugged. “What are you talking about?”
“Jeff is dead.”
Logan’s eyebrows rose. “Are you kidding me?”
David shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Logan rubbed his forehead. “That’s crazy.”
“I’ll say.”
“What happened?” Logan asked.
“This is where things get really nuts,” David said. “He was murdered.”
Logan’s eyebrows knitted. “Who would do something like that?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“I’m confused. What are you doing here then?”
“Before I answer, let me ask you a question.” David pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. “Do you have a light on you?”
“Uh…yeah.” Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette lighter.
David stared intently at the lighter. “That looks pretty new. Did you just buy it?”
Logan shook his head. “No. Why would you ask that?”
“Perhaps maybe you left your old one behind somewhere.” David pulled out the matchbook that I found at the crime scene. “Do you recognize this?”
“Of course I do. They hand those out inside the bar.”
“Do you happen to have one?”
“No. Because I already have this lighter. Now, do you want to tell me why you are asking me all of these questions?”
“Like I told you before, Jeff was murdered last night.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m sorry about that. But I’m not sure what that has to do with me,” Logan said.
“Mr. Little, would you mind telling me where you were last night?” David asked.
Logan became outraged. “As a matter of fact, I do. That’s none of your business.”
“Mr. Little. Why won’t you just answer my question? Unless you have something to hide.”
Logan groaned. “Fine. I was at home. Are you happy now?”
“Were you alone?” David asked.
Logan shrugged. “Why does that matter?”
David stared him down. “It is more vital than you think. Now, what’s your answer?”
“Yes. I was alone.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Why?”
“Because it means you have no one to verify your alibi for the time of the murder.”
“Alibi?” Logan said. “I already told you, I had nothing to do with Jeff’s death.”
“I wish I could believe you,” David said.
“No one is stopping you.”
“You say that, but with no verifiable alibi, and ample motive, I have plenty of reason to suspect you—”
Logan put his hand up. “Stop right there. I don’t have a motive—”
David cut Logan off. “Don’t lie to me. I know about Jeff beating you out for that promotion at the car dealership. I also know how desperately you wanted that assistant manager position.”
Logan scoffed. “Do you really think I killed Jeff because he beat me out for a promotion?”
“Let me ask you this. Now that Jeff is dead, who is likely to take over his job as assistant manager of the dealership?”
“I don’t like where this conversation is going.”
“Because it’s cutting too close to the bone?”
Logan sneered. “That’s it. This conversation is over.” He dropped his cigarette on the ground, rubbed it out with his shoe, and began to walk away.
David squinted. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home,” Logan said.
David shook his head. “You can’t just leave.”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
David stared Logan down.
My husband pondered Logan’s question for a few seconds before answering, “Not at the moment.”
“That’s what I thought,” Logan said. “We’re done then.”
As Logan walked away, David made sure to get the last word in. “Don’t even think about leaving town.”
Chapter Seven
To make sure that Logan did stay in Treasure Cove, David assigned a patrol car to keep tabs on Mr. Little’s movements. Once a deputy was tailing Logan, David and I entered the bar.
As my husband and I went inside Tipsy McCallahan’s, one thing immediately struck me. Much to my delight, the bar had a number of video cameras installed.
Talk about a rare exception. It was amazing how few businesses had security systems in place. Since this one did, it could prove to be highly beneficial to us.
I briefly got excited about the idea that there could be case-breaking evidence somewhere on the bar’s security tapes. Before we could review security camera footage, however, we needed to speak with the manager of the place. Luckily, he wasn’t too hard to track down.
As a matter of fact, the manager, Alex Patterson, happened to be standing behind the bar at a computer terminal right then. David and I approached Alex and introduced ourselves to the muscular goateed forty-eight-year-old. We then explained why we were there. That was when the conversation got interesting.
“I can’t believe someone murdered Jeff,” Alex said. “That’s terrible.”
David nodded. “It sure is.”
Alex grimaced. “Are you sure the killer is someone connected to this bar?”
“The discovery of the matchbook at the crime scene certainly points to that being the case, but we don’t have anything conclusive yet. That’s where you come in.”
Alex’s forehead wrinkled. “Me?”
“Yes,” David said. “I understand that Cheryl McGrath is a bartender here. Was she working last night?”
Alex shook his head.
David scratched his chin. “Interesting. Is she scheduled to come in today?”
“As a matter of fact, she should be here in less than an hour.”
“Good,” David said. “Now, back to your customers for a second. Specifically, Jeff. Did he come in last night?”
Alex nodded. “Briefly.”
“How about Logan Little?”
Alex stared blankly. “That name doe
sn’t ring a bell.”
“He’s a pudgy guy. Middle-aged. Balding. He was just smoking a cigarette in front of your bar.”
“Oh, right. I didn’t catch his name when he came in this morning.”
“So, he’s not a regular then?” David asked.
Alex shook his head.
“Back to Jeff for a minute. When he came in last night, do you remember him talking to anyone?” David asked.
“He didn’t just talk to someone. He got into a big argument,” Alex said.
David’s eyebrows rose. “With who?”
“Greg Richmond.”
David squinted. “Who is that?”
“He is a regular.”
“I’m not familiar with Greg. What connection does he have to Jeff?”
Alex shrugged. “I can’t tell you how Greg and Jeff know each other. But I can say that Greg and Cheryl used to date.”
David’s eyes lit up. “Is that so?”
Alex nodded. “For quite a while. Then Cheryl broke things off about two months ago.”
“This argument that Jeff and Greg had last night, about what time did it occur?”
Alex searched his memory. “I’d say eight o’clock. Maybe eight-fifteen.”
“Did you happen to overhear what it was about?”
Alex shook his head. “No. It happened on the other side of the bar. And it didn’t last long. Thankfully, they both stormed out of here before things got too out of hand.”
“Do you know where they went after they left here?”
“I have no clue.”
“Did either of them come back to the bar later in the evening?”
“No.”
“If you had to guess, do you believe the argument was about Cheryl?”
“It could have been.”
“All right. One more question for you. Can we check your security tapes from yesterday?” David asked.
Alex nodded. “Sure.”
Chapter Eight
Alex led us to a back office and loaded up the security footage that had been recorded the night before. David and I sat down in front of a computer monitor and reviewed the footage while Alex went back to bartending.
Just as Alex had described, shortly after eight o’clock, Jeff and Greg got into a brief but heated argument before storming out of the bar. Since the video camera did not record audio, we could not tell what the skirmish was about. Before this investigation was over, however, we were determined to find out.
In the meantime, we kept looking at the recording. Unfortunately, nothing in particular stood out. For good measure, David rewound the footage to before the argument had taken place. We then watched the video closely to see if anything caught our attention.
On the video…
Jeff came into the bar shortly before eight o’clock. He was alone. After ordering a drink, he sat by himself and slowly drank a beer.
A few minutes later, Greg approached him and began yelling at him.
From there, things really went downhill. Jeff screamed back at Greg. The heated exchange continued with Greg shoving Jeff.
In response, Jeff snarled at Greg before storming out of the bar.
Not content to just let Jeff walk away, Greg followed him outside.
Much to my chagrin, the bar didn’t have any cameras outside, so David and I didn’t have any idea what happened next.
***
Just as David and I began to ponder what we wanted to do next, Alex darted into the back office.
“Sorry to interrupt you two, but you’re going to want to hear this,” Alex said.
David turned around and stared at Alex with great interest. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Greg Richmond is here.”
David’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
Alex nodded. “He just sat down at a table.”
Chapter Nine
David and I dropped everything and bolted over to the table that Greg was sitting at. The muscular forty-three-year-old had long black hair, a full beard, and a round face. He also didn’t seem to appreciate my husband and I rushing up to him.
“Greg Richmond. Boy, do I have some questions for you,” David said.
Greg’s eyebrows knitted. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Detective David Carlson. And this is Sabrina. We were just watching security footage of your argument with Jeff Donaldson last night.”
“Why?”
“I have a better question for you. What were you and Jeff arguing about?”
“What’s with all these questions? Can’t a guy just drink a beer in peace?”
“I’m sure that’s what Jeff was thinking last night before you went up to him looking for trouble,” David said. “You hated how Cheryl broke up with you. But the fact that she started sleeping with Jeff. That was too much for you, wasn’t it?”
Greg got up from the table. “Forget this. I don’t have to talk to you.”
David put his hand up. “Yes, you do. You are going to answer my questions. Whether it’s here or back at the police station is up to you. So, which is it going to be?”
Greg threw out his arms. “I’m so confused right now. Why would a police detective care about an argument I had last night?”
“You haven’t heard about Jeff then?”
Greg squinted. “What are you talking about?”
“He was murdered last night,” David said.
Greg’s eyebrows rose.
“Not too long after your argument,” David said.
“Stop right there.”
“Why?”
“I have a feeling about where you’re going with this conversation, and I want to make something perfectly clear. I didn’t have anything to do with Jeff’s murder,” Greg said. “I didn’t even know that he was dead until you just told me.”
“In that case, why don’t you explain where you went after you left the bar last night?” David asked.
“I went home.”
“I don’t suppose you have any way of proving that, do you?”
Greg shrugged. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“Do you live alone?” David asked.
Greg nodded.
“Did you run into any of your neighbors when you arrived home?”
“No.”
“So, there is no one who can verify that you did go home after leaving the bar then?”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“That’s what you say,” David replied. “Unfortunately, you have no way of proving it.”
Greg groaned. “This is ridiculous.”
“Not if you look at things from my perspective. You started a fight with Jeff last night and then followed him out of the bar. A few hours later, he was dead. Meanwhile, there is no one who can verify your whereabouts during the time of the murder. Given all that, how could I not suspect you?” David asked.
“Go ahead and suspect me all you want. It won’t change the fact that I didn’t do anything wrong,” Greg said.
***
David and I spoke with Greg for a little while longer, but we didn’t get anywhere. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to give us anything further to work with, David reluctantly let him go. But before Greg left the bar, David assigned a patrol car to tail him. From there, my husband and I only had one suspect left to question.
Chapter Ten
Cheryl McGrath arrived at the bar for her work shift a few minutes later. David and I approached her shortly after she entered the building. We then pulled her aside to speak with her privately. After introducing ourselves and explaining that Jeff had been murdered, we were interested to see Cheryl’s reaction.
The athletic, black-haired forty-two-year-old surprised me by expressing no remorse over Jeff’s death. Instead, her eyes filled with confusion.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what any of this has to do with me,” Cheryl said.
David squinted. “Wait a minute. That’s your reaction?
I just told you that Jeff was murdered last night. Don’t you feel the least bit sad?”
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s awful that one of our customers was killed yesterday, but I am struggling to figure out why you are wasting your time talking to me,” Cheryl said.
David put his hand up. “Let me stop you right there. I know for a fact that Jeff was more than just a regular customer here.”
Cheryl played dumb. “What are you talking about?”
“Are you really going to pretend that you weren’t sleeping with him?”
“I don’t know where you got that information from—”
David cut Cheryl off. “Before we continue, I just want to remind you that it is a crime to lie to a police detective. Now, are you going to tell the truth about your relationship with Jeff or not?”
“We didn’t have a relationship,” Cheryl said.
David folded his arms. “What did I just tell you about lying—?”
“It’s not a lie,” Cheryl said. “Did we hook up a few times? Yes. Was it a relationship? No. Especially after Jeff told me that he was going to try make things work with Vanessa.”
David’s eyes widened. “When did he tell you this?”
“The other day.”
I stared deep into Cheryl’s eyes. “Let me guess. You weren’t happy with his decision? Especially since you broke things off with Greg to be with Jeff.”
“Those are your words not mine,” Cheryl said.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I said.
“What does any of this matter?” Cheryl asked.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “The more you talk, the more I realize how strong of a motive you had for wanting Jeff dead.”
Cheryl scoffed. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
I stared her down. “Am I?”
“Absolutely. I can’t believe you’d even suggest something so ridiculous,” Cheryl said.
Sabrina Carlson Cozy Mystery Anthology Page 18
