David and I spent the majority of the morning at police headquarters, pouring over the case file again. Never mind the fact that we both practically had the thing memorized by then. Short of the killer making some kind of misstep, our best option was to go over the pieces of this puzzle again until we could make sense of them.
This was most infuriating part of investigating. Not to mention, the part that never got shown on police procedural TV shows. The slow burn. The moments when an investigator felt like they were slamming their head against the wall.
***
Finally, I couldn’t stare at the case file any longer. Neither could David. It didn’t help that the lunch hour was upon us and we were fresh out of food.
David got up from his desk and grabbed his keys. “I don’t know about you, but my tummy is rumbling.”
I remained seated. “I’ve been trying to ignore my stomach.”
“I think it’s time you listen to it,” he said. “Besides, you’ve been staring at those photos so long, if I gave you a blank sketch pad and a pencil, you could probably recreate them all from memory by now.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some brain food.”
“Why not just call for delivery? We could get some Chinese. Or some pizza.”
“I think we could both use the fresh air.”
I took a deep breath. “Now that you mention it, the air is getting rather stale in here.”
David nodded. “Plus, you never know who—or what—we might come across while we’re out.”
Chapter Nineteen
It turned out what we came across was some orange chicken, some fried rice, and a few eggrolls from our favorite Chinese restaurant in town. We happily devoured the scrumptious food and moved right on to dessert.
The moment I cracked open my fortune cookie, David looked at me with curiosity in his eyes.
“What does your fortune say?” David asked.
I read the fortune aloud. “The winds of change will blow in your favor.”
“How vague. Yet also, how inspirational.”
“Isn’t that always the way?”
He nodded. “Pretty much. I mean, it’s not like you’re going to get specifics from a fortune cookies.”
“You’re also not going to get a doom and gloom fortune either,” I said. “I’ve never once seen one that read ‘you are facing an obstacle that you have no chance of overcoming.’”
“I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well.”
I shook my head. “No. But for some people, it would also be the truth.”
“I hope you’re not speaking about yourself.”
“I never said I was.”
“I just wanted to make sure,” he said. “This has been a frustrating case.”
“It’s more than that. We’re reaching desperation time.”
“We’ve been in worse situations.”
“We’ve also been in much better ones before.” I looked over at his plate. “What does your fortune say?”
He cracked open his cookie, pulled out the fortune, and read it aloud. “You will overcome great conflict.”
“That’s great to hear. But how?” I asked.
David’s eyebrows knitted. “Were you just talking to the fortune cookie?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Don’t judge me.”
“No judgment here. That said, I’m pretty sure you’re not going to find the answers you’re looking for in a fortune cookie.”
“Not in that cookie, at least. I should ask our server for another cookie.”
He folded his arms. “Really?”
“As a snack. Not a crime-solving tool.”
David exhaled. “Phew. You had me worried there.”
“Give me a little more credit than that. I’m desperate, not completely off my rocker,” I replied.
“I never said you were.”
“Not verbally. But you had that look of disbelief in your eyes like I was banking on a fortune cookie to be able to solve this murder for us.”
Before David was able to get a reply out, I heard a familiar voice speak up over my shoulder.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” Jake Williamson said.
I turned around and saw the slender, slick-haired sixty-seven-year-old millionaire businessman standing behind me.
“Jake. What are you doing here?” I said.
“Why are you looking at me like this is the last place you’d ever expect me to set foot in?” Jake said.
“I just thought you only ate at Antonio’s,” I said.
He gave me a slight smile as he shook his head. “Very funny.”
“I wasn’t joking,” I said. “I’ll bet Antonio’s Ristorante wouldn’t appreciate being cheated on like this.”
“If you must know, it wasn’t my idea to get takeout here.”
“Ah. Now it makes sense. Your wife was craving Chinese food, wasn’t she?” I said.
Jake had always struck me as a permanent bachelor. The kind of man who would never tie the knot. He was so married to his work that there didn’t appear to be enough room for a committed relationship in his life.
So when he walked down the aisle with Clarissa Hunt a few years ago, it came as a pleasant surprise. In more ways than one. Not only did it prove that he was capable of caring about something other than the balance in his bank account. It was also a much-needed step in the right direction for his life. With their marriage entering its sixth year, so many of the illusions I had about him had been shattered. What a difference falling in love made.
He groaned at me. “Sabrina, you’re so prying sometimes.”
“Am I wrong?” I asked.
“My wife loves the food here,” Jake said.
“She has good taste.”
“In most things, yes. In this…” Jake trailed off.
“Are you going to finish that sentence?” I asked.
Jake shook his head. “It’s probably better if I don’t.”
I threw my arms out. “If you really don’t like the food then why are you here?”
“What’s it matter to you?” Jake said.
I looked deep into his eyes. “Are you in the doghouse?”
He broke eye contact with me. “That’s none of your business.”
“That isn’t a no.”
“Sabrina, why don’t you ease up a little and save all your hard-hitting questions for murder suspects?” Jake asked.
“What did you do to get in the doghouse with your wife?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Jake, I investigate murder cases. You don’t think I know when you’re doing something out of character?”
Jake held firm. “I’m telling you the truth.”
I threw my arms out. “So I’m wrong then?”
“A wise person once told me that the key to a successful marriage is to keep your wife happy,” Jake said.
“That person was right,” David said.
“They sure were. So when my wife wants Chinese food, she gets it,” Jake said.
“I have to say, I’m really impressed,” I replied.
“By what? My ability to pick up Chinese food?” Jake joked.
“No. How much you’ve changed over the years. The old Jake was an Antonio’s Ristorante or bust kind of guy,” I said.
“Go figure. A lot has changed over the years,” Jake said.
I could pinpoint the exact moment when everything changed for Jake. When he ceased being a shark in a suit. It was sixteen years ago. The night he was stabbed in the parking lot of Antonio’s Ristorante.
Thankfully, he survived the attack. While his assailant went to jail, Jake headed off to the hospital. Ever since his brush with death, Jake had been a different person. He knew that he’d been given a second chance, and he wasn’t about to blow it.
When he got out of the hospital, he ended up doing some physical therapy, which changed his life in more ways than one. He ende
d up meeting Clarissa in physical therapy. She did more than just mend his body. She softened his edges. Which, let me tell you, was no small task.
“Unfortunately, some things are exactly the same. For example, the disturbing crime rate in this town,” I said.
“Speaking of, you aren’t really relying on fortune cookies to help you solve this case, are you?” Jake asked.
“No. I was just joking earlier,” I said.
“Good,” Jake said.
“But we should get back to work,” I said.
“Don’t let me keep you from your investigation,” Jake said. “Besides, I really should get this food to my wife while it’s still warm.”
“Say hi to Clarissa for me,” I replied.
“I will,” Jake said.
As Jake left the restaurant, my mind drifted into the clouds.
David let me stay lost in thought for a few moments before he cleared his throat to draw my attention.
“What are you thinking?” David asked.
“About how important it is to keep your wife happy,” I said.
David looked puzzled. “Wait a minute. Did I do something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No. I wasn’t talking about you and me.”
He scrunched his nose. “Then who were you talking about?”
“When I go over the details of this case in my head, I don’t have to look very hard to identify a wife who wasn’t happy with her husband.”
His eyes widened. “Felicia Wilcox.”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe it’s worth paying Felicia another visit,” I said.
“You might be right,” David said.
Before we got the chance to explore my theory, David got a call on his police radio.
He excused himself from the table and took the call outside the restaurant.
Chapter Twenty
A few minutes later, David returned with a shocked look on his face.
“You won’t believe the call I just received,” David said.
I got up from my chair, anxious to hear the news. “Why? What happened?”
David pointed at my chair. “Sabrina, trust me. You’re going to want to sit down.”
“Will you forget about the chair and just tell me what’s going on?”
David was so shaken up that he took a seat at the table to get his bearings back. He held his hand out again. “Please sit.”
I threw out my arms. “David. The suspense is killing me. What was the call about?”
“There has been a development in the case.”
My nose scrunched. “What kind of development?”
He exhaled before replying, “Another dead body has been discovered.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m still processing the news myself.”
“Whose body was found?” I asked.
“A few minutes ago, the 9-1-1 operator got a call from Michelle Bradford—”
I cut David off. “Wait a minute. Bradford?”
David nodded. “Jeremy Bradford’s sister.”
“So hold on. Are you telling me that—?”
“Sabrina. Jeremy Bradford is dead.”
My jaw dropped. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t formulate any words. When I finally untied my tongue, one question was at the forefront of my mind. “Are you serious?”
“I know it sounds crazy—”
“I’ll say,” I replied. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“Neither did I. But there’s more.”
I squinted. “What do you mean?”
“It looks like Jeremy committed suicide.”
“Really?”
David nodded.
“But…why would he do that?”
“Apparently, he sent a text message to his sister shortly before killing himself.”
“What did that message say?”
“That he was wracked with guilt about murdering Mark Wilcox.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I spent the entire drive over to Jeremy Bradford’s house trying to process the news. But as David pulled into the driveway of the blue ranch-style house on Pompey Place, I was still reeling. I took a moment to pull myself together as much as I could before we approached the front door.
Michelle Bradford, Jeremy’s petite, black-haired, angular-faced forty-eight-year-old sister, was wiping a tear from her eyes as she opened the door for us and led us into the dining room.
Jeremy’s lifeless body was slumped over at the dining room table. A bottle of bleach, a cup, and his smart phone were also on the table.
A few minutes later, the medical examiner arrived on the scene to take a look at the body.
By that point, Michelle had shown us the text she had received from her brother.
It read: “I can’t go on anymore. The guilt of killing Mark Wilcox is eating me up inside. Goodbye.”
While we waited for preliminary findings of the medical examiner, we spoke with Michelle in the front yard.
“Miss Bradford,” David said.
“Yes,” Michelle said.
“First, I’d like to say that I’m very sorry for your loss,” David replied.
“This is so tragic,” Michelle said.
“Look. I know this is a bad time, but I really need to get a statement from you,” David said.
“This isn’t just a bad time. It’s the worst moment of my entire life,” Michelle said.
“I do apologize for the timing, but I’ll keep this brief.”
“Do we really have to do this now?”
David nodded. “Unfortunately. But like I said, I’ll make this quick.”
She hugged herself.
David continued. “As painful as it is, I need you to walk me through what happened.”
Michelle took a deep breath before responding, “All right. I got a text from Jeremy about an hour ago. The minute I read it, I frantically called him, but he didn’t pick up. So I jumped in my car and rushed over here. But by the time I got here, it was too late. He was already dead.”
“Is that when you called 9-1-1?” David asked.
Michelle nodded. She started to tear up again.
David pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here.”
She wiped her eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“I know this is a very tough time for you,” David said. “Losing a family member is incredibly difficult. The grief you must be experiencing—”
“I meant that I don’t believe he really killed himself,” Michelle said.
“Look. Ms. Bradford, considering what an emotional time this is, I hate to rehash the details with you, but things seem pretty clear-cut. Your brother sent you a suicide text and then drank a cup of bleach. So how can you not believe that he killed himself?” David asked.
“He had no reason to end his life,” Michelle said.
David grimaced. “His text says otherwise.”
“I know what the text says, but he didn’t kill Mark,” Michelle said.
“I understand it is a lot to come to grips with, but he confessed to the murder,” David said.
“This is all a mistake. My brother isn’t a murderer.”
David winced. “I really don’t want to argue with you right now.”
“Good. Then just listen to me. Jeremy would never kill anyone, much less Mark.”
“I don’t want to be insensitive, but look at all the evidence proving otherwise,” David said.
“Detective. Don’t you think I know my own brother?” Michelle asked.
“I’m not questioning that,” David said.
“Good. Because killing one of his oldest friends is the last thing he’d ever do.”
“Let me just say this. Sometimes people hide things from their family members.”
Michelle shook her head. “No. Jeremy would never keep a secret like this from me.”
“Ms. Bradford. I do sympathize with your situation, but I don’t know what else
to say to you.”
“I know you think I’m crazy, but I’m telling you, something is very wrong about all of this. There’s no way my brother killed himself,” Michelle said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A few minutes later, the medical examiner was ready with his preliminary findings. Nathan Turner was a bald, tall, bespectacled, slender fifty-four-year-old. He was the kind of man who buttoned his shirt collar all the way to the top, and who wore drug store cologne.
“I have a strange question for you,” David said.
Nathan chuckled.
David’s nose scrunched. “Did I say something funny?”
“It’s just that in my line of work, there’s no such thing as a normal question,” Nathan said.
“Right. Well this one might be stranger than you’re used to,” David said.
“Okay,” Nathan said. “What have you got for me?”
“Is there any evidence pointing to this not being a suicide?”
Without even the slightest hint of hesitation, Nathan shook his head. “None.”
David squinted. “Really?”
“There isn’t a doubt in my mind.”
“Because?”
“To start, there’s no signs of forced entry. The cause of death is pretty clear. Also, the time of death is within the last hour, matching up with when the text was sent. Then there’s text itself,” Nathan said. “So yeah, it’s obvious to me that this was a suicide.”
David turned to me. “Do you have any questions for Nathan?”
I had a lot of questions, just none that Nathan could answer. From a forensics point of view, this certainly looked like a suicide. But my gut was telling me that we weren’t seeing the entire picture.
Nathan’s eyebrows knitted. “Is something going on that you aren’t telling me about?”
“Never mind,” David said. “Thanks for your help.”
Nathan walked away, leaving David and me alone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
David and I had much different reactions to our conversation with the medical examiner. I remained contemplative, questioning the story I was being presented with. Conversely, David looked like he was ready to head back to the station to fill out some final paperwork regarding the case.
Mysteries of Treasure Cove Cozy Mystery Boxed Set Page 17
