Brother's Keeper

by Richard Ryker

Will rose an eyebrow, but Brandon shook his head, no.

  “Patti Baldwin is willing to talk now.”

  The name sounded familiar.

  “She’s the lady who tried to sell a cat to Mrs. Dunn. Possibly the last person to see her alive.”

  “Right,” Brandon said, recalling the woman. “I thought she refused to talk without a lawyer.”

  “I got a call from her. She wants to go back to California. Apparently her attorney told her not to leave the area before the investigation is settled.”

  “Good advice,” Brandon said.

  “I’m bringing her down to the station now,” Jackson said. “See you in ten.”

  Brandon ended the call.

  “It’s about Mrs. Dunn,” he said.

  Will stood. “That’s my cue, boss. The wife’s waiting for me at home. Sunday afternoon pot roast and Sunday night football.”

  Will’s wife hadn’t been Brandon’s biggest fan, ever since he’d convinced Will to stay on the force past his original retirement date. Since then, Brandon had gone out of his way to keep her happy, allowing Will his pick of shifts. The last thing he needed was for Will’s wife to convince him to head to retirement earlier than he’d agreed.

  So much for heading out to Nygard’s place.

  “Enjoy your weekend,” Brandon said. “And tell the wife I said hi.”

  Will grunted. “Maybe not. I wouldn’t want to put her in a bad mood…”

  Chapter 14

  Waiting for Jackson’s arrival, Brandon stared at the monitor connected to the camera that covered the station’s entrance. After a couple of minutes, a late-model Saab pulled into the parking spot closest to the front door. A woman exited the car and dragged a wheeled carry-on bag out of the back seat. Suitcase in tow, she scurried to the front door and pressed the buzzer.

  This wasn’t Patti Baldwin.

  Brandon considered ignoring the visitor, but his truck was out front and in a town as small as Forks, everyone knew what he drove. He headed for the reception area and opened the door.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Margot Martinez,” she said, handing him her card. “Attorney for Patti Baldwin.”

  Margot wore a navy-blue pencil skirt and a white blouse with the top two buttons unfastened.

  “I thought Miss Baldwin wanted to talk,” Brandon said.

  “She will. In the presence and under the guidance of her attorney.”

  Brandon let her in. “Suit yourself.”

  She followed him back to the interview room.

  “Hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience, coming in on a Sunday,” Brandon said, just to make small talk. He didn’t care much for defense attorneys and wasn’t really interested in what she’d been doing before her client called her in a tizzy.

  “No rest for the weary,” she said, opting for a cliché.

  As they passed through the break room, Brandon asked, “Coffee?”

  “Sure,” she said, unexpectedly.

  “I’ll have to make some,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  She sat at the table, watching Brandon replace the filter and fill the machine with coffee grounds and water.

  “You’re new here,” she said.

  “Five months,” he answered. “Grew up here, though.”

  He took the chair across from her.

  “How about you?” Brandon asked.

  “Forks High. Class of ‘98.”

  “No kidding? I’m class of ‘94,” Brandon said.

  “I was just a kid. You wouldn’t remember me,” she said.

  Four years difference, they wouldn’t have been in high school at the same time.

  He studied her face. Something about her was familiar.

  “I’m Mark Healy’s little sister. You were friends. My sister Tammy said she ran into you at the diner a while back.”

  The high cheekbones, jet black hair. He could see the family resemblance. Mark had been Brandon’s best friend throughout high school. Margot…that was her name. She’d always been the little sister down the hall, the one who’d come in the room asking to play video games with them, only to be shooed away by Mark.

  He considered her again. Why was it that familiarity made a woman more attractive?

  “Your last name…”

  “Martinez was my married name. Too much trouble changing it after spending the last eight years trying to build a reputation.”

  “I don’t know what that’s like,” Brandon said. “I tend to change jobs every ten years or so. Army, patrol, detective, police chief.”

  “Sounds like a solid career progression,” she said.

  “Or getting bored every ten years.”

  “Sort of like marriage,” she said.

  Brandon wasn’t sure what to say to that. His divorce had nothing to do with boredom.

  The machine sputtered out the last drop of coffee. Brandon grabbed two cups.

  “Cream?” he asked.

  “Sugar, thanks.”

  He poured the coffee and handed her the sugar and a wooden stir stick. They sat in relative silence for the next several minutes as the conversation died out. His sudden attraction to his old friend’s little sister threatened to drag Brandon into territory some might call flirting. That was a bad idea for several reasons. Most of all because he was dating Lisa. Not to mention, Margot was an attorney for a murder suspect.

  Margot, seeming to have noticed the awkwardness, opened the folder she’d brought and began flipping through court documents.

  The sally port door gave a hard click and Brandon went out into the hallway to check. Jackson and Patti Baldwin had arrived.

  The four of them squeezed into the interview room, Margot’s suitcase between her and her client. Jackson explained the consent form and that the interview would be recorded. Patti, after a nod from her attorney, signed the form.

  “Thank you for your willingness to talk to us,” Brandon started.

  “Ms. Baldwin is eager to clear her name in this case. As you know, or will know, she is a victim as much as anyone else—”

  “I doubt that,” Brandon chided.

  “How’s that?” Margot asked.

  “Mrs. Dunn is dead. As long as your client is breathing, she’s not as much a victim—”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” Margot said.

  That sounded exactly like what she meant.

  “So, anyway,” Jackson interrupted, “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Mrs. Dunn.”

  “Okay,” Patti said.

  “How long have you known her?”

  Patti glanced sideways at Margot.

  “Go ahead. I’ll interrupt if need be,” Margot said.

  “We met about a year ago,” Patti said. “She’d advertised online. Selling a stray cat she’d been taking care of.”

  Initially, Patti had told them she’d only met Mrs. Dunn recently.

  “And did you buy the animal from her?” Jackson asked.

  “No.”

  “What was your initial purpose in visiting Mrs. Dunn?” Brandon asked.

  Patti chewed on her lip.

  “My boyfriend. He was part of a scam—”

  “The same operation you kept running even after his arrest?” Brandon asked. They’d already established through Jackson’s research that Patti was involved in a scheme where she either stole pets and resold them, or if the situation arose, robbed the victim.

  Patti opened her mouth. Margot put her hand on Patti’s.

  “Don’t answer that.”

  “We already know how your client makes her money,” Brandon said.

  “Then why ask the question?” Margot responded. “We’re here to help you with your murder investigation. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Brandon leaned back in his chair.

  “What was the content of your conversation with Mrs. Dunn during that first meeting?” he asked.

  “I was scoping her out,” she said.

 
“Remember what we talked about,” Margot said.

  “I was inquiring as to her willingness to sell me the tabby she’d advertised,” Patti said. “Instead, we got to talking and she said she’d gotten lots of cats wandering to her front door. I hinted she could make extra cash by helping me. She said she needed money, and that was that.”

  “Are you saying Mrs. Dunn was part of your operation?” Jackson asked.

  “Well, yeah,” Patti said.

  “That was not an admission of involvement in a crime,” Margot said.

  The hell it wasn’t, Brandon thought.

  Patti scowled at Margot. “Why can’t I just tell the truth? Isn’t that the right thing to do?”

  “No,” Margot said. “I mean, yes. But it’s not that simple.”

  “Do I even need a lawyer? I mean, if I didn’t do anything wrong?” Patti asked, looking to Brandon.

  “Patti—” Margot started.

  “I mean, I don’t even have the money to pay for this.”

  “You’re not paying for it,” Margot said. Her face burned crimson. Why the embarrassment? This couldn’t have been the first time she’d had a client go off the rails during an interview.

  “I can’t answer that question,” Brandon said. “But if I were you…I’m sure your attorney is just concerned about your welfare. As it sits, you’re a suspect in a murder investigation.”

  Her eyes widened. “I am? Why?”

  “Last person to see someone alive usually is,” Jackson said.

  “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to continue,” Brandon said.

  Margot eyed Patti.

  “Okay,” Patti said.

  “Mrs. Dunn was short on cash,” Brandon said. “And agreed to help with this pet scam. Is that right?”

  “Right,” Patti said. “I’d give her the pets I found.”

  “Stole,” Jackson corrected her.

  “Whatever,” Patti said. “She would sell them online and I would get a cut.”

  That Mrs. Dunn needed money was believable. It was the reason she’d started the Airbnb. And who wouldn’t trust an elderly woman selling a pet?

  Todd Dunn reported that Patti had visited the home multiple times. It made sense that there was a relationship between her and Mrs. Dunn.

  “And the day she was murdered,” Jackson asked. “What happened?”

  “I’d brought her a mother and a couple of kittens the night before,” Patti said.

  “From where?” Brandon asked. Maybe he could ditch the cat Emma had forced on him. Return the kitten to its rightful owner.

  “That’s not important to this conversation,” Margot said.

  He suddenly liked her less, not because of her defense of her client. But because she was stopping him from getting rid of that damn cat.

  “But Mrs. Dunn wouldn’t pay me,” Patti said. “She said she’d overpaid me last time, and the time before. She owed me like two hundred bucks.”

  He’d seen people kill for less than $200. A lot less.

  “And that’s when you hit her with the hammer?” Brandon asked.

  “No,” Patti exclaimed. “That’s not true.”

  “If you as much as touched the hammer, we’ll have your prints,” Brandon said.

  “Officer Mattson—” Margot started.

  “It’s chief,” Brandon said.

  “Chief Mattson. If you continue this line of questioning, my client will no longer be able to cooperate.”

  “Oh, hell,” Brandon said. “Then tell your client to get to the point.”

  “We argued. I left,” Patti said.

  “And then what?” Jackson said.

  Patti stared back at her.

  “Let me remind you, and your attorney,” Brandon said, smirking at Margot. “That we have evidence you returned to the home and stole money from Mrs. Dunn.”

  It was a bluff, a risk that could derail the entire interview. If Margot knew they hadn’t gotten the fingerprint analysis back yet, that they had no evidence at all, it would be the last time Patti cooperated.

  “What evidence?” Margot asked.

  “Okay, I went back to the house the next day. I snuck in the back door to the kitchen.”

  “What time was this?” Jackson asked.

  “Like six,” Patti said. “When I peeked in the living room, she was sleeping in her recliner.”

  “In the morning?” Brandon asked.

  “She stayed up late and slept during the day,” Patti said. “That’s how she was.”

  Todd had discovered his aunt’s body around 9:30 that same morning. If Patti was telling the truth, the murder occurred between seven and nine-thirty.

  “Okay, then what?”

  “I took like a hundred dollars from the cookie jar. I knew that’s where she kept her cash.”

  Patti paused, her eyes red now with guilt. “I only stole what was mine. How was I supposed to know he’d kill her?”

  “He?” Brandon asked.

  “Todd,” she said. “He expected to inherit the property from Mrs. Dunn. But she wasn’t giving him a dime.”

  “How do you know this?” Jackson asked.

  “Mrs. Dunn told me she took Todd out of the will. But I don’t think he knew. Not yet.”

  Pinning the murder on Todd was a convenient out for a woman who’d just admitted to stealing from Mrs. Dunn the same day she was murdered.

  “How well do you know Todd Dunn?” Brandon asked.

  “I seen him here and there, sneaking around the big house up the hill. Gave me the creeps,” she said.

  Patti’s assessment of Todd couldn’t be more different from the one Sabina had given. Sabina had adored the younger man, her face blushing at the mention of him.

  “What about him creeped you out?” Jackson asked.

  “You do know he had cameras up there?” Patti asked. “The house Mrs. Dunn rented out.”

  Brandon and Jackson glanced at each other.

  “I figured you all would have found those by now,” Patti said.

  If she was telling the truth, this cast an entirely different light on Todd. But suspects lied, and there was at least a fifty-fifty chance that Patti had fabricated the story to get the police off her scent. A distraction from her own potential involvement in the murder.

  “The question is, how did you know about them?” he asked.

  “Mrs. Dunn told me things.”

  “And she allowed this to happen?” Jackson asked, incredulous.

  “She told him to knock it off. Someone complained online in one of the Airbnb reviews. She had him take them out before the next guests came. She almost lost her business over that. But I know he set them back up.” She huffed. “That one’s a perv.”

  If Patti’s story panned out, they could charge Todd Dunn with voyeurism. They’d have to get to the cameras first. And without the recordings, there would be no way to tell if there was any connection between Mrs. Dunn’s murder and Todd’s alleged voyeurism.

  “Is there anything else we should know?” Brandon asked.

  Her gaze moved from Margot to Brandon before she answered, “No.”

  “Any questions for us?” Brandon asked.

  “My client would like to return to California, now that she has given you all the information she has,” Margot said.

  “Ms. Baldwin is still a suspect in this murder.”

  “What’s your timeline, then?” Margot asked.

  “I’m sure you know,” Brandon said, “That we don’t have timelines in this business. Ms. Baldwin will be free to move on with her life when we’ve solved Mrs. Dunn’s homicide. In the meantime, your client should be happy that, so far, we’re not charging her with breaking and entering and theft.”

  Margot stood and motioned for Patti to do the same.

  “If you have any questions for Ms. Baldwin, you have my card,” Margot said.

  Back in the bullpen, Jackson asked, “What’d you do to piss her off?”

  “The attorney?” Brandon scoffed. “No
idea.”

  She studied his face, her eyes narrowing.

  “That’s not another one of your ex-girlfriends, is it?” she asked.

  “I knew her brother,” Brandon said.

  Jackson cringed. “Is there anyone you didn’t date in this town?”

  “I didn’t date her. Ever. Too young.”

  “At the time,” Jackson said.

  “And the only other person you’ve met that I once dated was Misty.”

  “Yeah and we know how that mucked up the last investigation,” Jackson said. He sensed an edge of concern behind her smile.

  When Brandon had come home to Forks four months earlier, it just so happened that Misty, his high school sweetheart, had been dating Officer Nolan, one of Brandon’s subordinates. Despite a brief rekindling of Brandon’s relationship with Misty, it turned out she and Nolan were leaking information about a murder investigation.

  “Was it a mess?” Brandon asked. “Sure. But it didn’t impact the outcome. And like I said, I haven’t seen Margot for years.”

  “Anyway,” Jackson said, wisely veering away from any further talk about Brandon’s personal life. “Want to pay a trip to Todd’s trailer before you head home? I’d like to hear what he has to say about those cameras Patti mentioned.”

  “And being tossed from his aunt’s will,” Brandon said. “Assuming anything Patti Baldwin said is true.”

  He glanced at the clock. The afternoon was getting late. He’d missed his chance to head out to Nygard’s place with Will. He didn’t want Jackson involved in Eli’s case. It was bad enough involving Will, who, as he liked to remind Brandon, had little to lose in the way of trouble with the sheriff. Jackson, on the other hand, had her whole career in front of her.

  Nygard would have to wait.

  “You drive,” Brandon said.

  Chapter 15

  Brandon squeezed into the passenger seat of Jackson’s police cruiser, shoving her backpack and a pile of documents to one side.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, setting the papers on his lap.

  She glanced at the folders before pulling onto the road.

  “That’s the original pet scam case. It’s bigger than Patti,” she said. “There’s a whole network. Like everything else involving ill-gotten cash, drugs are involved. And when drugs and money are involved…”