“That’s easy. I was here.”
“At the motor lodge?”
She nodded. “Right behind this counter. All the way up until eleven o’clock.”
“Really?” David asked.
“You sound surprised,” Amanda said.
“Was anyone with you during this time?”
“You mean, do I have proof that I was actually here the entire time?”
“Yes.”
“I sure do,” Amanda said.
***
A murder suspect with an ironclad alibi? That was incredibly rare in the investigative world. So, you could see why David and I were wary of Amanda’s story until we saw some proof.
Imagine our surprise then when Amanda was able to provide evidence that she was working until eleven. She went in the back, pulled up the security camera footage from the evening before, and played it for us.
As we watched the video, it became clear that Amanda could not have killed Jim. Like she told us, she was behind the counter during the time that the murder took place. Her alibi was indisputable. Which meant that David and I had no choice but to move on.
Chapter Thirteen
O’Connor’s Mattress Mart was located on the North end of town. The mattress store was light on customers as we entered. That wasn’t surprising, given the fact that it was a weekday—and that the tourist season was long over.
In my mind, it was a good thing that a bunch of shoppers weren’t milling around. An empty showroom allowed us to focus on asking our questions rather than wondering if bystanders were listening in on our conversation.
David and I approached the front counter, where Phil O’Connor stood. Phil was a paunchy, short, balding man in his late forties who owned a wide selection of bowties. The only reason I knew so much about his tie collection was because he seemed to wear a different bowtie in each of the schlocky commercials that aired on local television. Phil quickly straightened his tie before he greeted us.
“Can I help you?” Phil asked.
“I sure hope so,” David said.
“What can I do for you?”
“You can tell me where you were last night.”
Phil’s eyebrows knitted. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how that’s any of your business.”
David pulled out his police badge. “Actually, it’s very much my business. Now please answer the question.”
“You’re with the police? What’s the regarding?” Phil asked.
“Jim Hartley’s Mattress Emporium is your biggest competition in town, isn’t that correct?”
Phil’s eyebrows knitted. “So what?”
“So, you two aren’t exactly on the best of terms. Especially since he used to work for you before leaving to open his own place,” David said.
Phil gritted his teeth. “Why are you bringing that up?”
I paid close attention to Phil’s body language as he replied. He was trying to keep a lid on his emotions, but was failing miserably. His disdain for Jim was all-too apparent.
“It still burns you that Jim left his job here to open a rival mattress store, doesn’t it?” I asked.
“Especially since that company is doing so well,” David added.
“What’s the point of all this? Are you just asking me all these provocative questions to see what kind of a rise you can get out of me?” Phil said.
“Actually, your sour body language is what prompted me to ask you that question in the first place,” I said.
“Speaking of her question, you didn’t answer it,” David said.
“Look. I respect that you’re with the police department. And I’m not trying to cause you any problems. But I’m having trouble making sense of what this has to do with anything,” Phil said.
“Trust me. It’s quite important,” David said.
Phil scoffed. “If you say so. I just figured you’d have bigger issues to tackle than a competitive rivalry between business owners.”
“Actually, this is my top priority.”
Phil chuckled. “There must not be very much crime going on in town.”
He couldn’t have been more incorrect. As the interview continued, I was certain that he would eat those words. But for the moment, he remained completely oblivious to the true nature of this conversation.
“Mr. O’Connor, I hate to inform you that things aren’t nearly as quiet as they appear to be,” David said.
Phil threw out his arms. “Would you mind clueing me in?”
David folded his arms. “I’m still waiting for an answer to my first question. Where were you last night?”
“I was here,” Phil said.
“All night?” David asked.
“Most of the night,” Phil said.
I looked at the sign on the front door of the store. “But it says right on the door that you close at eight.”
“The store is closed to customers at eight. But often times I stay late and do paperwork.”
“How late are we talking?”
“Sometimes I’m here as late as midnight.”
“That’s awfully late,” David said.
I looked around the store. “I don’t suppose you have any security cameras around here.”
“I don’t have to worry about burglars on this side of town,” Phil said.
“Last night, was anyone else here working late with you?” David asked.
Phil shook his head. “No. It was just me.”
“That’s unfortunate,” David said.
“How do you figure?”
“Because if you were alone it means there is no way to verify that you were truly here at that hour.”
Phil held his hand up. “All right. Hold on a minute. I think I’ve been really accommodating here. But I want to know what’s really going on. Why do you care so much about the specifics of my location last night?”
“You really haven’t heard the news then?” David asked.
Phil stared blankly. “What news?”
“Mr. O’Connor, Jim Hartley was murdered last night.”
“You have to be kidding me.”
“I’m afraid I’m not,” David said.
Phil didn’t say a word.
David let Phil digest the news for a few more seconds before speaking up. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
“This is just awful,” Phil said.
“Is that really how you feel?” David asked.
“Of course. How else would I feel?”
“We’ve already established that you two had a contentious rivalry. So it’s not much of a stretch to assume that you—”
Phil cut David off. “Wait a minute. If you’re about to say what I think you are, then I’m going to stop you right there.”
“You can interrupt me all you want, but it isn’t going to change the fact that things don’t look great for you right now.”
Phil shook his head in disbelief. “This is insane.”
“You can say that all you want, but you’re a man who has a killer motive and no verifiable alibi for the time of the murder,” David replied.
“Those are your words not mine,” Phil ahead.
“Go ahead and squabble over the way I phrased things. But I’ll just say this. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t suspect you of this crime.”
“Yeah? Well suspecting and proving are two very different things,” Phil said.
“Phil, calm down—”
“How do you expect me to do that?” Phil asked. “You just accused me of murder.”
David shook his head. “No. I said you were a suspect. There’s a big difference between the two.”
“Especially since I didn’t do anything. And you can’t prove otherwise. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work,” Phil said.
David’s eyes scanned the empty showroom. “Work? But there’s no customers here.”
“I have some work to do in my office,” Phil said.
Phil then took a few steps back.
David held his p
ointer finger up. “I didn’t say we were done here.”
“Are you going to arrest me?” Phil asked.
David stared Phil down for a number of seconds before finally replying, “No.”
“Then I have nothing else to say to you,” Phil replied.
David and I lobbed a few more questions Phil’s way, but he didn’t give us anything else to work with.
Chapter Fourteen
What would a murder investigation be without a trip to the East side of town? I would sure like to know. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to get the answer to that question during this case.
Steve Willingham lived in a low-rent apartment that was located in the warehouse district. What a charmless environment to call home. Although, if he had enough money, the odds were that he would move elsewhere. Until his financial situation changed, the East side was happy to take his rent money.
I could have kept lingering on how ugly this area of Treasure Cove was, but there were much bigger issues at play. For example, I got a terrible feeling in my gut as we drove toward Clapper Lane. There was a good reason for that. Over the years, a number of killers had called this area home. So, no matter how much the city council did to clean up the neighborhood, there was no way of shaking the bad memories I had.
Even so, while I could not forget the past, I could push it aside for the sake of this investigation. I did just that as David pulled up in front of Steve’s apartment complex. The area was surprisingly quiet as David and I headed over to Steve’s unit.
After two sets of knocks, Steve came to his door. He was a brawny man in his late twenties who had long black hair, a full beard, and a number of visible tattoos—one of which depicted the Grim Reaper laughing.
Ironically, Steve did not display the same sense of humor that his tattoo did. If anything, he looked annoyed that we were at his door in the first place.
“I don’t know what you’re selling, but I ain’t interested in buying it,” Steve said.
“Mr. Willingham, we’re not selling anything,” David said.
Steve’s nose crinkled. “What do you want then?”
“It has come to our attention that you were recently fired from Jim Hartley’s Mattress Emporium,” David said.
Steve narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”
“It’s my job to know things,” David said.
Steve stared David down. “Who are you?”
David flashed his police badge. “My name is Detective Carlson. And this is Sabrina.”
“You’re with the police?” Steve said. “Are you sure this isn’t just some big mistake?”
“I’m afraid not,” David said.
Steve’s nose scrunched. “But this doesn’t make any sense. Why would the police care that Jim cut me loose?”
“Are you sure you don’t already know the answer to that question?”
Steve scratched his chin for a moment. His eyes then bulged. “Wait…are you saying that punk called the cops on me?”
“You don’t have a very high opinion of Jim, do you?” David asked.
“That’s one way of putting it. I still can’t believe that fool fired me. He has a lot of nerve.”
Steve stopped talking and looked surprised that he had uttered those words out loud. I got the sense that he wished he could take his last statement back. But it was too late.
While Steve silently regretted letting his feelings slip out, David lobbed another question his way.
“Why’d you stop talking?” David asked.
Steve became defensive. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here, or not?”
“You’re obviously really upset about getting fired. So, I can’t help but wonder if you’d ever get revenge on your former boss for canning you?” David said.
“Detective, you didn’t answer my question,” Steve said.
“And you didn’t answer mine,” David replied.
“You first,” Steve said.
David narrowed his eyes. “I’m the one dictating the terms here.”
Steve scoffed. “Nice try, but this conversation is over.”
Steve went to close the door.
David put his arm out, narrowly stopping the door from shutting. “Oh no you don’t. This conversation isn’t over until I get some answers. Now I’d prefer to do this here. Or I could drag you into the police station.”
Steve snarled. “You can’t do that.”
“Sure I can.”
Steve glared at David, then at me. “What’s this really about?”
“Jim Hartley was murdered,” David said.
Steve’s jaw dropped.
David continued. “I’ve answered your question. Now it’s time for you to be honest with us. Where were you last night?”
Steve shook his head. “Oh no you don’t.”
“Mr. Willingham, that isn’t an answer,” David said.
“You might take me for a fool, but I see what you’re trying to do, and I ain’t having it,” Steve said.
“What I’m trying to do is get a few simple answers from you.”
“Nice try, but I’m onto you.”
“Instead of being so evasive, why don’t you just do us all a favor and answer my question?”
Unfortunately, Steve remained combative. “I don’t know where you get off coming to my place and acting like I’m some sort of criminal.”
“Actually, you’re the one who is acting like a criminal. People who have nothing to hide have no problem answering simple questions. So how about we try this again—?”
“Here’s a better idea. Why don’t you get lost?” Steve said.
David laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Steve barked.
“Here you are making this big stink over one little question. Well guess what? I’m this close to hauling you back to the police station and throwing you in an interrogation room.”
Steve’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
“Keep pushing me and you’ll find out exactly what I’m willing to do to discover the truth,” David said.
Steve narrowed his eyes. “You don’t scare me.”
“I should,” David said. “Now I’m going to give you one last chance to answer my question before I drag you back to the police station. Where were you last night?”
“I was at a bar,” Steve said.
“With your girlfriend?” I asked.
Steve’s face filled with surprise. He didn’t realize I had done some research on him before David and I came over here. Although, I didn’t need to dig too deep to discover that he had a girlfriend. There were photos of her on each of his social media accounts.
Steve shook his head. “No. My girlfriend didn’t come with me.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I just wanted to be alone.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “If you wanted to be alone, then why did you go to a bar?”
“It shouldn’t be hard to understand. I just sat in the corner, had a couple of drinks, and collected my thoughts,” Steve said.
David pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “What bar did you go to again?”
“The Tipsy Treasure Hunter,” Steve said.
I was familiar with that place. It was a dive bar a few blocks away. While investigating previous cases, I had also learned that The Tipsy Treasure Hunter didn’t have any security cameras onsite.
“So, if we were to go over there right now, would the bartenders be able to verify your story?” David asked.
“They should,” Steve said.
“All right. We’ll see about that,” David said.
***
David warned Steve not to go anywhere.
My husband and I headed over to The Tipsy Treasure Hunter Bar and spoke with a number of the employees. Their answers were quite eye opening.
When David and I left the bar, we drove back to Steve’s apartment. When we arrived back at Steve’s place, the brawny suspect was more annoyed than ever to see
us at his front door.
“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” Steve asked.
“Because we’re not done with you yet,” David said.
“I don’t understand,” Steve said. “Did you go to the bar?”
David nodded. “We sure did. And guess what? None of the employees that we spoke to remember seeing you last night.”
“Someone is lying to you then. Because I was there,” Steve said.
David scratched his chin. “The bar manager did tell us that the place was jammed last night. So maybe they served so many customers that you got lost in the mix.”
“I’ll bet that’s it,” Steve said. “Now are we done here?”
David shook his head. “Not even close.”
Steve groaned. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t kill Jim.”
“I’d like to believe you.”
“Then do that.”
“The problem is, there’s no way of definitively verifying your alibi. And you were just fired a few days ago, which gives you a strong motive—”
Steve cut David off. “I can always get another job.”
“Do you have a new job lined up?” David asked.
Steve shook his head. “No. But that’s because I just started looking.”
“In the meantime, you still have bills to pay,” David said.
“How would killing Jim help me pay my bills?” Steve asked.
“It wouldn’t. But it would give you a taste of revenge after the way he pulled the rug out from under you.”
“How about you stop throwing around accusations?”
“Why? Because they are baseless? Or because they hit too close to home?”
“I wouldn’t risk spending the rest of my life in jail over something as small as getting fired,” Steve snapped.
“Why not? From what we heard, you were willing to risk your job by stealing a few hundred dollars from the cash register.”
“So, I took some money from the register. That’s a lot different than committing murder.”
“You know what they say about desperate times leading to desperate measures.”
“You’re just speculating again,” Steve said. “For the last time, it was just a low-level job—”
Mysteries of Treasure Cove Cozy Mystery Boxed Set Page 50
