“I’ll bet he would have, but I didn’t call him,” Greg said.
My nose crinkled. “Why not?”
“Like I told you before, Walter and I are old friends. And I always knew him as a man of his word. I trusted that he was telling me the truth,” Greg said.
Apparently, Greg was far more trusting than I was. Friend or not, I definitely would have called Walter’s old boss before making a hiring decision.
Rather than lingering on that point, I decided to move on to another topic.
“Mr. Baranski, let me ask you something,” I said.
“Fire away,” Greg said.
“When you gave Walter the position here, was Tom aware that Mr. Cobb had previous managerial experience?”
Greg shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Did he know that you and Walter were old friends?” I asked.
“Yes,” Greg said.
“That would explain why Tom was so upset about getting passed up. He probably thought that favoritism was at play,” I replied.
“I suppose,” Greg said.
“Let me switch gears a little,” David said. “I know it’s a grim topic, but with Walter dead, who will take over as assistant manager?”
Greg threw out his arms. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about that.”
“Even so, is it safe to say that Tom will be the frontrunner?” David asked.
“Not if he’s a murderer,” Greg said.
“Say he isn’t guilty,” David replied. “Would he get the promotion?”
“Probably,” Greg said.
“That’s what I thought,” David said. “Here’s another important question for you. Did Tom work last night?”
“No,” Greg said.
“That’s good to know,” David said.
Greg winced. “Please tell me you don’t think that Tom might actually be responsible for this.”
“I can’t really say right now. We’ll need to speak with him first,” David replied.
“In that case, he’s right out there,” Greg said.
“Thank you for pointing that out. That said, we’re not done here yet,” David replied.
Greg shrugged. “We aren’t?”
David shook his head. “No. I have one more question for you.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“What about the rest of your staff?” David said. “Did anyone else here have a problem with Walter?”
“No,” Greg said.
“I’m very relieved to hear that,” David said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Tom.”
Chapter Nine
Tom Dresden was a thirty-eight-year-old man with a goatee and a significant amount of gel in his hair. His chest was puffed out as we approached him. I only had to take one look at him to know that he thought very highly of himself.
Even though he had no shortage of arrogance, his cockiness didn’t impress me in the least. All I cared about right then was finding out if he had an alibi for the time of the murder.
We would certainly ask him that. But first, David decided to slowly work his way up to that question.
My husband elected to begin the interview by breaking the news to Tom about Walter’s death. I paid close attention to Tom’s body language.
Much to my surprise, Tom looked genuinely shocked to find out that his co-worker was dead. Whether Tom was just putting on an act was yet to be determined. Although, if he was faking his reaction, he was certainly doing a good job of it.
“No way,” Tom said. “Walter is really dead?”
“I’m afraid so,” David said.
“I don’t know what to say,” Tom replied. “That’s crazy.”
“It certainly is,” David said. “It’s also terrifying knowing that a killer is on the loose.”
“You’re telling me. Hopefully they won’t be at-large for long though.”
“We are certainly going to do our best to apprehend the maniac responsible for this.”
“Good luck.”
“In my experience, luck is really unreliable. I’m counting on hard work paying off.”
“I’ll cross my fingers that you are right about that.”
“If you really mean that, you shouldn’t mind answering some questions for me.”
Tom squinted. “What sort of questions?”
“Mr. Dresden, I know you had your eye on an assistant manager position at this store. I also have it on good authority that you believed the promotion was yours. Then, out of nowhere, Walter was hired as the new assistant manager. That must have stung, getting passed up by an outsider. A man who had never worked for this company before—”
Tom held up his hand. “Let me stop you right there.”
“Why?” David asked. “Is this conversation making you uncomfortable?”
“No. I just want to make one thing very clear. I didn’t kill Walter.”
“I never said you did.”
“That’s where you were headed though, right?”
“Do I have suspicions about you? Yes. But I need more information before I come to any conclusions. That’s why I want to ask you some questions.”
“Such as?”
“Where were you last night?” David said.
“At home,” Tom replied.
“Were you alone?”
Tom nodded. “Yes.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“It’s also the truth.”
“Mr. Dresden, I don’t make a habit of taking a suspect’s words at face value. At least not without corroboration from an outside source.”
“Detective, let’s get real here. I wouldn’t murder someone over a promotion,” Tom said.
“I’ve seen people killed over less,” David said.
“I’m sure you’ve seen a lot during your time on the police force. That said, I’m innocent.”
“Like I told you before, your story is only as believable as my ability to verify it.”
Tom blew his top. “If you’re going to accuse me of murder, I hope you have some evidence. Otherwise, that’s defamation of character.”
David put his hand up. “Hold on. I didn’t accuse you of anything.”
Tom snarled. “It sure sounds like you did.”
David replied calmly, but firmly, “Let me make myself clear. I’d love to rule you out as a suspect. But I just can’t do that right now.”
“Fine. Believe whatever you want,” Tom said. “But guess what? My story isn’t changing.”
Chapter Ten
Once we finished up with Tom, David got a phone call. As my husband looked at the identification screen on his phone, he realized the call was coming from Oakhill Junction Hardware. David answered his phone with great anticipation.
Imagine how surprised he was when he discovered that the call was not coming from Charley Hargrove. Instead, a man named Craig Abbott was on the other end of the line. And Craig had an interesting detail to share with David.
It turned out that Charley Hargrove was just a floor worker at the hardware store. Meanwhile, Craig Abbott was the manager.
At first, David wondered why Walter had falsified information on his lease application. As David began asking Craig questions, it became clear why Walter had not been truthful.
The question that really tipped the scales was when David asked Craig if he would recommend Walter.
Craig scoffed. He then replied, “Are you kidding?”
“Why do you sound so appalled?” David asked.
“Because I fired Walter.”
David’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”
Craig scoffed. “Did Walter not tell you that?”
“It’s all news to me,” David said.
“Of course it is,” Craig said. “Go figure. Walter is an even bigger scumbag than I thought.”
“Would you care to explain why you have such a low opinion of Walter?” David asked.
“Because he was sleeping with my wife.”
“I guess I don’t
need to ask why you fired him then.”
“You certainly don’t.”
“Wow. I’m not really sure what to say,” David replied. “I definitely wasn’t expecting that bombshell.”
“How do you think I felt when I found out?” Craig said.
“I’ll bet you were livid.”
“I still am. That man is a total lowlife.”
“You mean, he was a lowlife.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Mr. Abbott, I regret to inform you that Walter is dead.”
Craig’s voice cracked as he replied, “Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately,” David said.
“How did he die?”
“This is where things get really crazy. He was murdered.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”
“I do,” David replied. “Mr. Abbott, I have a very important question for you. Where were you last night?”
Craig didn’t hesitate with his reply. “I was here at the hardware store.”
“What time did you leave the store?”
“Around eleven o’clock.”
“Is there anyone who can verify that?” David asked.
“Absolutely,” Craig said. “In fact, there are about a dozen people who can attest to that.”
“If that’s true, I’d like the names and phone numbers of those people,” David said.
Chapter Eleven
Craig provided David all the information that he requested. My husband then called up six different people, looking to verify Craig’s story. Much to David’s surprise, each of the men and women that he phoned were able to confirm Craig’s alibi.
Talk about a rock-solid story. Craig’s alibi was absolutely airtight. With that knowledge, David felt confident about crossing Craig’s name off of his suspect list.
On the flip side, the same could not be said of Craig’s estranged wife, Melanie Abbott. Melanie was not one of the names that Craig had listed. Nor did David have any confirmation about Melanie’s location during the time of the murder.
What we knew was this. Craig had separated from his wife a few months ago. He was currently in the process of filing for divorce.
Beyond that, David and I were staring down a big question mark.
A conversation with Melanie was definitely in order. But just because we wanted to speak with Mrs. Abbott didn’t mean that it would be easy to track her down.
David cracked open his laptop and loaded up the police database. After performing a search for Melanie’s name, my husband was able to load a recent rental listing in Oakhill Junction. The search also yielded a phone number.
David immediately called Melanie, but she didn’t answer her phone. When the call went to voicemail, my husband left a brief message for Mrs. Abbott.
Rather than sitting around, waiting for Melanie to call back, David decided to chase down another lead. Perhaps Mrs. Abbott would return my husband’s call in a few hours. If not, David would certainly phone her again.
If multiple calls went unanswered, a drive to Melanie’s residence in Oakhill Junction might be in our future.
In the meantime, we weren’t going to get ahead of ourselves.
***
The next item on our itinerary was a trip to McLarsen’s Bar. David and I both had a hunch that someone at the bar would have eye-opening information to share with us. I really hoped that we were correct. My husband and I could certainly use a break.
As David set course for Eagle Drive, I sat in the passenger seat of the car, fixated on the matchbook that was discovered in the pocket of Walter’s work uniform.
The longer I remained silent, the more concerned David became as he looked over at me.
“I know we already talked about this, but I just want to go over it one more time,” David said. “If this case is too emotional for you, I can drop you off at home—”
“Let me stop you right there,” I said.
“I’m just looking out for you. Why don’t you go home and grieve?” he asked. “I can handle this investigation myself.”
“No. I’m going to help you find Walter’s killer.”
“All right,” he said.
I stared out the window again.
“In that case, do you want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I can’t stop thinking about this matchbook.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that too. It could be a big clue.”
“True. But that’s not all.”
David squinted. “I don’t understand. What am I not seeing?”
“When my dad first came back into town, he told me he was a changed man. That he had been sober for years. So, why did he have a matchbook from a local bar?”
“I don’t know. But I have a feeling that we’re about to find out.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I want to solve that mystery. At the same time, I have a hunch that I’m not going to like the answer we get.”
“You’re probably right. I don’t like either of the explanations that come to mind.”
I grimaced. “In my mind, either my father was lying to me about being sober—”
“Or he went back to drinking after having that falling out with you,” David said.
“Precisely.”
“Those are really depressing explanations.”
I winced. “They sure are. Then again, everything about this case is sad. Which is why I want to catch the killer as soon as possible.”
David took my hand. “Here’s hoping that we catch a lucky break, sooner rather than later.”
Chapter Twelve
When David and I entered McLarsen’s Bar, I expected the place to be pretty empty. After all, it was early in the afternoon. Not to mention, it was a weekday. Imagine my surprise then when half a dozen customers were sitting on stools, drinking away.
While some of the patrons were well into retirement age, others were only in their thirties or forties. Despite the wide assortment of ages, there was a common thread that connected each of them. They all looked to be regulars.
I could have spent a great deal more time analyzing the barflies, but I elected to focus on the topic at hand. My husband and I were there to get information about Walter. I had a hunch that the best way to do that was to speak with one of the employees.
David and I approached the bald, muscular forty-two-year-old bartender who stood behind the front counter preparing drinks. After introducing ourselves, we learned that his name was Patrick Donovan. David showed Patrick his police badge and explained why we were there.
As soon as David mentioned that Walter had been murdered, Patrick almost dropped the pint glass that he was holding. It was safe to say that the news completely blindsided him.
Patrick grimaced. “Talk about a punch in the gut. That is devastating news.”
“It sure is. This is a really difficult case to investigate,” David said.
Patrick put his hand up. “Speaking of, does Nicole know that Walter is dead?”
David’s forehead wrinkled. “Nicole who?”
“Nicole Potter,” Patrick said. “Walter’s girlfriend.”
I had no idea that Walter was dating anyone. That nugget of information led to a number of new questions. Most notably, who was Nicole Potter? Where did she live? How long had she been romantically involved with Walter? Also, had Walter and Nicole been having problems recently?
While I wanted to get an answer to each of those questions, it was important to take things one step at a time.
“We haven’t spoken with Nicole yet. Do you know where we can reach her?” David said.
Patrick pulled out his phone and checked what time it was. “If you stick around a few minutes, she should be walking through that door.”
David’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”
Patrick nodded.
“Is she a regular?” David asked.
Patrick shoo
k his head. “No. She works here.”
“Oh.”
Patrick grimaced. “Nicole is really going to be in bad shape when she hears the news.”
David held his hand up. “You mean, if she hasn’t heard the news already.”
“True.” Patrick exhaled and then replied, “Talk about a heartbreaking situation.”
“It is awful,” David said. “Which is why we’d like to bring Walter’s killer to justice as soon as possible.”
“I couldn’t agree more. The sooner, the better.”
“That is the plan.”
Patrick’s nose scrunched. “By the way, how is that plan going?”
“Now that you mentioned it, we could use some help,” David said.
Patrick squinted. “What sort of help?”
“We were wondering if you could answer a few questions for us.”
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
“To start, did Nicole happen to work last night?”
Patrick shook his head. “No.”
David bit the corner of his lip and said, “Interesting.”
“What’s so interesting about it?”
“Because if she wasn’t here, I can’t help but wonder where she was last night.”
“I have no clue.”
“Neither do we,” David said. “At least, not yet.”
“Speaking of clues, do you have any idea who might be responsible for Walter’s death?” Patrick asked.
“Strangely enough, I was about to ask you that exact question.”
Patrick folded his arms. “What makes you think I would know something like that?”
“You don’t have to get all worked up. I’m just looking to gather as much information as I can,” David said. “With that in mind, can you think of anyone who might have had a reason to want Walter dead?”
Patrick searched his brain. “Actually, a few names come to mind.”
David reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and a small pad of paper. “What names are those?”
“Scott Hatcher is a good place to start.”
“What reason did he have to dislike Walter?”
“Scott is Nicole’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Let me guess. Scott took the breakup hard.”
Ice Cream with a Side of Danger Page 3
