Maggie wiped the counter, wondering how many times Allie had been there with her fake ID.
“So did you hear the voice of the person at the door before you left Esther’s?”
Maggie crept closer, rag in hand.
Allie paused. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
Maggie stepped into the doorway. “So was it Cameron’s?”
Greg frowned at her, and she stopped, silenced, but still watching.
Allie wound her hair around her finger. “No. At first, I thought it was Cameron, and I didn’t want to deal with it. But it wasn’t his voice. It was someone else. I thought it might be Grady.”
“Do you know him?”
“Not well. I’ve met him a few times. But he makes me uncomfortable, and Cameron knows it. He doesn’t put us together.”
“Would you recognize the voice if you heard it again?”
“Maybe—I don’t know. I might if he was yelling.”
“So he was yelling at your aunt?”
“Not at first, but then they were both yelling when I threw the ladder out the window. I thought the noise they were making would cover the horrendous clatter it made.” Tears filled her eyes again, and a hiccup escaped as she spoke. “I thought she was OK. I figured she would threaten to call the police, and they would leave. I wanted to be gone so they wouldn’t come running up the stairs and find me.”
“Were you afraid of them then?”
“Just Grady. I’ve never been afraid of Cameron. I can handle him. But he’s different when he’s with his brother, like he needs to be tough or something. I didn’t want to go there. But Aunt Esther could have handled him. I never dreamed she wouldn’t be safe. I wouldn’t have left her if I thought she was in trouble.”
Greg looked Allie straight in the eye. “Do you believe Grady killed her?” He kept his voice soft.
The tears flowed unchecked down Allie’s face. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if they were there.” She was sobbing now. “It wasn’t Cameron’s voice I heard. I swear.”
Greg reassured her and left.
Allie’s words rang in Maggie’s ears as she rubbed spice on some chicken and placed it in the oven. Did Allie believe Grady killed Esther? Could Grady have pushed her? And how would they find him? The police had been trying since Aunt Esther’s murder, but he hadn’t shown up at home or at any of his known haunts. There hadn’t been anyone in the truck with Cameron earlier, and she believed Allie didn’t know where he was. Using her sister as bait wasn’t an option, so how could they get him to come out of hiding? As she set the timer, her phone rang.
“Maggie, it’s Monica Tate. I heard about poor Allie. Is she all right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Tate, she’s doing well. Her leg was broken, but thankfully, the doctor thinks it’ll mend quickly since she’s young and in good shape.”
“I’m so glad. Would you mind coming to the house tomorrow? I’d like to discuss the situation with you. Your aunt and I were good friends, and I’d like to talk to you about some things.”
Things? What things? “Can you tell me now?”
Monica hesitated. “Let me organize my thoughts, and we can talk tomorrow. Will ten o’clock be acceptable?”
Maggie agreed and hung up. She couldn’t help herself; she was excited about seeing the inside of the Tate mansion. As a decorator, she would love to see the whole place, but it probably wouldn’t happen. Snatching her mind back to the present, she wondered what Monica could know. And if she did know something, why hadn’t she told the police?
11
Greg headed back to the jobsite. When he drove through the entrance, uniformed officers stood with some of the workers outside in the sun. No doubt David would be nice and comfortable inside, making his suspects come to him.
Sure enough, David had commandeered the office in the back. He sat in a padded chair behind a clean desk.
Walter Forrest, the tile guy, overflowed a metal chair in front of him.
As Greg entered, a whine warbled in Walter’s voice. “I know you guys want to pin this on me. It makes it real easy for you. I’m the new guy in town, so you don’t have to explain why you didn’t realize someone you’ve known your whole life is a monster.”
Greg set a chair off to the side where he could watch.
David rocked back in his perch. “What do you mean? Do you know who pushed her? Is it someone who’s lived here his whole life?”
“No. I mean…I don’t know. They must have because there aren’t many new people here. I’m your best candidate.” Walter placed both hands on the desk. “Except for one small detail. I didn’t do it. I was in the Spruce tiling the master bath. The girls can verify it. They saw me.”
David scooted his chair closer. Even with the desk between them, it made Walter lean back. His chair groaned. “Yeah, but maybe you stopped tiling long enough to chase them to the Aspen and push Allie down the stairs. What’s the matter, were you afraid she’d identify you as having been in the house?”
Confusion crinkled Walter’s face. “What house, the Spruce? I already told you I was there.”
David appeared to study his nails, but his focus never left the suspect’s face. “The lady’s house who got killed, you know, the one in the news all week.”
Walter gripped the edge of the desk. “Hey, I didn’t kill nobody. And I didn’t push the poor girl down the stairs. I came to work, and I worked.”
Now was the time to interject. Greg leaned in. “So, did you see anyone else around? Was there someone who might have been stalking the two women?”
“I was in the bathroom from the time I talked to them until I heard the sirens. If someone followed them, I didn’t see him.”
“Did you hear or see anything else suspicious?”
Walter relaxed his hands and crossed his legs, putting one ankle on his knee and fingering the hem of his jeans. “Nothing you’d want to hear.”
David wrote something in his notes and yawned. “Spit it out, Forrest. You’re starting to bore me. In fact, maybe an arrest would be just the thing to wake me up.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Now what did you see?”
“I didn’t see it, but word is the inspector came to look at the wiring in the Willow, and Jonathan flew off the handle and slapped the clipboard out of his hand.” He lowered his foot to the floor with a thump and leaned forward. The chair shrieked in protest. “Let me tell you. You don’t want to tick off an inspector. I heard Mike was mad, ’cause he was forced to do a lot of damage control.”
David jotted another note. “And it has to do with this…how exactly?”
“I’ve seen it before. A guy’s got a bad temper, it always leads to problems. If he can’t control it toward someone who can hurt him, what would he do with someone who can’t?”
“So you think Jonathan pushed her?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it? Maybe he was still mad at the inspector, and he took it out on the girl. It makes as much sense as me doing it.”
Greg kept his voice light as if he was taking Walter into his confidence. “You know, he’s the right build. Who else is tall and thin around here?”
Walter relaxed and stared up at the ceiling. “Mike, the foreman, is about six two, and Charlie’s maybe five eleven or so. A lot of thin guys work here. They’re not dumpy old codgers like me.” He laughed, and his smile faded. “If I keep sitting around talking to you two, I’ll get canned, and I can’t afford it.” His gaze skittered toward the door. “You guys won’t tell the boss what I said about his kid, will you? I need this job.”
Greg reassured him, and he and David stood.
Walter pushed to his feet, and he and David moved out into the main area, David handing him a card. “If you hear of anything to help us, call one of these numbers. And tell Mike we’re looking for him, would you?”
Walter nodded and lumbered out.
David smirked. “Walter couldn’t have run anywhere, let alone down a bunch of steps.”
“Yeah, I think he’s telling the
truth.”
Mike entered the trailer, marched to the large desk, and sat in the rolling chair behind it. David sent Greg a pointed look, as if acknowledging a power move. He sauntered over and settled himself in one of the metal chairs before the cluttered desk. “So, who gets the office in the back?”
“It’s Jonathan’s.” Mike relaxed. He fit Maggie’s description: Caucasian with a tan, tall and thin. He was pretty well built, so pushing a young girl down a flight of stairs would have been easy for him. Of course, almost anybody could. Allie was a petite girl.
“It’s too clean. Doesn’t look like much work gets done in there.”
Mike shrugged. “How can I help you?”
Greg folded himself into a chair next to David. “Tell us the sequence of events after you saw Maggie and Allie in the office.”
Mike shoved some piles aside and placed a stack of papers on the floor, clearing the middle of his desk. “I was going to walk over with them to the Spruce to see how far Walter was on the bathroom. Before I could get there, I had to take care of something at the Willow.”
“The inspector thing?” David asked.
Greg flashed David a quick glance and returned his gaze to Mike. “Maggie told me there was some trouble with the inspector.”
Mike exhaled. “Yeah. Jonathan lost his temper when the inspector wouldn’t approve the electrical in the Willow. It was a small thing we could have fixed right there, but the inspector insisted on marking it down. It made Jonathan mad because it will cost us time.”
“Do all your houses have trouble with inspections?” David seemed to be going for the jugular, but if he wanted to put Mike on the defensive, he missed his mark.
Mike’s face didn’t change. “We normally sail right through them, but sometimes someone misses something.” His voice remained even. “It’s Jonathan’s job to check before the inspector gets here, but he was out all morning and didn’t get it done. The inspector was early, which probably threw him off.”
David tilted his head. “So are you used to making excuses for him? Doesn’t it irritate you that he’s your boss?”
“He’s not here much, and he leaves me alone to do my job.”
Greg couldn’t tell from Mike’s face whether it bothered him or not. “So, what happened after the inspector thing?”
“I assigned someone to fix the problem, and I went to check the furnace in the Linden. I was there until I heard the sirens.”
“Where’s the Linden in relation to where Maggie and Allie were?”
Mike selected a sheet of paper from a pile on his desk and placed it in the space he’d cleared between them. The schematic of the model homes displayed the name of each house, as well as some specs. He extracted a pen from his shirt pocket, bent, and put an X on the Aspen. “This is our biggest house. They were in there.” He flipped it around so Greg and David could read the names.
Greg picked it up and studied it. “Can we keep this?”
“Sure.”
Greg wrote Mike’s name in the square marked Linden, and Maggie and Allie in the Aspen—diagonal from each other and down the street from the Spruce, where he wrote Walter. The Willow stood next door to the Spruce, where the girls were when they saw the inspector. The day’s events started to come together.
Greg laid the diagram between them. “What we really want to know, Mike, is who could have been close to the Aspen when it happened? Did you see or hear anyone near it either before or after?”
“No. If I’d been in the main part of the house I might have, but I was in the basement. I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t even see the girls go in. I thought they were still in the Spruce.” His desk phone rang, and Mike eyed it as if he wanted to answer. He didn’t though.
Greg waited for it to stop before continuing. He glanced around the office and sighted the large stuffed dog. “So is this the famous mascot?”
“Yeah, his name is Buster, but there’s usually a ski mask on his head. It has holes for his ears, and it’s rolled back so his face shows.”
“Have you been able to remember whether it was on the dog this morning?”
His expression grew pensive. “I’ve been trying to remember since we talked, but I just don’t recall if it was on his head this morning. The last time I’m sure was last week. Sorry, I know it’s not helpful.”
“Why last week?” David exploded as if he couldn’t hold it in.
“The guys are messing with him all the time. I came in and found him in my chair, the mask on backward covering his face. I find him all kinds of different ways. Sometimes he has it on like he’s skiing, or he has a hardhat on. Once he was missing altogether, and we found him in the Aspen.”
“Was there anyone with you in the Linden?”
Mike met David’s stare. “You mean like an alibi?”
“Yeah.” David tensed, ready to pounce.
Greg wondered if he would have to restrain him.
“I was in the basement alone.”
“Hmm.” David gave Mike a silent stare.
Greg had to hand it to him—he was good at intimidation.
Mike filled in the silence as most people do. “Someone might have seen me go down. There were plenty of guys around.”
“What about on Saturday, the third? Where were you then?” David’s crisp tone bordered civil.
Mike’s mouth formed a tight line. He made a pretense of checking the calendar, but Greg didn’t expect a helpful answer. Why would he help someone so bent on making him look guilty? “There’s nothing on the schedule, so I would have been here working.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
Mike’s face remained calm. “Probably. I deal with people all day. You’ll have to ask around.”
“I will.”
The two men glared at each other, neither backing down.
After a minute, Mike turned to Greg. “Is there anything else I can answer for you guys? I need to get back to work.”
Greg responded before David could. “One more thing. Can you tell us where the other guys were while you were in the basement? Whatever you remember will be fine.”
Mike leaned back and closed his eyes, as if picturing everyone coming and going. He spoke with his eyes closed. “Jonathan disappeared after he made the inspector mad, probably came back here to cool off. Charlie was going to measure for the built-ins on the Aspen and the Spruce, but I didn’t see him, so I don’t know. Walter was in the Spruce working on the bathroom tile, and Kurt was supervising a framing crew in the Juniper.” He opened his eyes and sat up. “They were framing the next three houses here, here, and here.” He pointed to the drawing and wrote their names on the diagram. “I don’t know if they were all where they were supposed to be. I don’t watch them all day—I wouldn’t get anything done.”
Greg and David excused themselves and went in search of Charlie and Jonathan.
One of the framers pointed them to the basement of the Spruce.
Greg motioned for David to tread quietly, hoping to hear what was being said. The smell of wood stain grew stronger the lower they went.
“I can’t believe I have to be here at all.” The whine must be Jonathan’s. “It’s not like I’m taking over or anything. I don’t want to do this. I want to play tennis.”
“Have you tried to explain?”
“He won’t hear me. He says I’m not good enough. If I didn’t have to work all the time, I could practice more, and I know I can make it as a serious professional. I figure if I can just hang in a few more months at the company, I’ll be twenty-five, and I’ll inherit from my mom. Then I won’t have to work for the old windbag. I won’t have to coach little old ladies either.”
Apparently deciding they’d heard enough, David marched through the door. “Where were you guys earlier today?”
Charlie dipped his rag into the stain and rubbed it over the wood, deepening the color of what was obviously a bookcase. With all the windows open, the smell wasn’t as bad here as in the closed stairwell.
Jonathan reclined against the concrete, one leg bent, with his foot flat against the wall. He stayed there as if unconcerned about their questions. “We played tennis with Allie and Maggie this morning then came here.”
Charlie said nothing, just kept rubbing.
“We know you were here. We heard about the incident with the inspector.”
Jonathan shrugged.
David’s face remained expressionless. “Where were you when Allie was pushed?”
“You think that was us? Why would we do that?”
“Did she beat you at tennis?”
“No, of course not.”
Greg interjected, “We’re asking everybody, trying to get a sense of where people were when it happened.”
“Oh. After the inspector thing, I went back to the office.”
David smirked. “The clean one in the rear of the construction trailer?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you do? It looks like all the work is done out front.”
Jonathan sneered. “I supervise.”
Greg watched to see if Charlie would react, but he kept his head down, dipping his rag into the stain and drawing it across the wood.
“Can someone verify that?”
“I don’t know. Mike wasn’t there, and Laura’s out this week.”
Greg broke in before David could make another smart-aleck remark. “What about you, Charlie? Where were you?”
He stopped staining and straightened, rubbing his back. “I was at the hardware on Fourth Street, picking up stain. Maggie’s plans specified this color, and I didn’t have any.”
“Let’s talk about Saturday, the third. Where were you?”
Jonathan lowered his foot to the ground, but continued to lounge against the wall. “I was playing a tennis tournament at the club. You can ask. Everyone was there.”
Charlie wiped his hands on a clean rag. “I was working.”
“On a Saturday?” Disbelief rang in David’s voice as his eyebrows shot up to his hair.
“Yeah. In the summer we work as much as we can.”
“Do you know if Mike was here?”
Charlie leaned down and placed the lid on the can of stain, tapping it in place with the end of a five-in-one tool. “I saw him in the morning, and then again at two when I finished for the day.”
Deadly Diaries Page 10
