“It was marked eleven-thirty.”
Margot bit her lip. “How long would it take between the scene of the crime and where his car was found? And did they get a license plate? Could they see the person on the footage?”
“Hold on, Margot.” Adam pulled into a small parking lot near a row of buildings and turned off the car. He looked over at her with a smile. “Let me take those questions one at a time.”
She nodded for him to go on.
“Our guys estimate it would take him about twenty minutes to get back to his car the way he came. Maybe less if he was running, but it’s hard to tell. As for the identity, that’s a no. He was wearing a hoodie that concealed his identity.”
“But you did get a license plate.” She noted the fact that he’d left that out.
“We did, but it’s a dead end. We found the car parked in an alleyway in Williamston.”
“Rats.” Margot leaned back. “So it was stolen?”
“Yes.”
“That’s awful. What about the email?”
Adam shook his head. “Our men haven’t found anything. Doesn’t mean there’s nothing to find, though.”
Margot avoided his gaze.
“I know that you asked Dexter to look into it.”
She gaped at him. “How did you know?”
“Because it’s what I would have done and what any smart investigator would have done. I’ve already retained him for this case, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“But he hasn’t found anything yet?”
“Not yet.”
“That’s all rather deflating.” She sighed and crossed her arms.
“But we’re here and we may just find what we need from this carrier. Ready to go inside?”
“Absolutely.”
6
They stepped into the small office space of the Fast Carry carrier service. A young woman sat behind a cluttered desk. The minute they walked through the door, the phone rang and she flashed them an apologetic look before answering with a rushed greeting.
Margot looked to Adam with a raised eyebrow then followed him as they took the two empty seats across from the desk. The woman scribbled furiously on a sheet of paper then hung up with an exasperated sigh.
“Hello. How can I help you?”
“Hi,” Adam said, leaning forward. “I’m Detective Adam Eastwood. I believe we spoke on the phone earlier.”
“Oh. Right.” She swiped a stray piece of hair from her forehead and looked to Margot then back at Adam. “How can I help you?”
“We’d like to talk to the person who delivered this package.” He held up the opened mailer, showing the smeared logo on the back. “We believe it came from this office.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. “It does look like the color of ink we use, but it’s really hard to make out the logo.”
“Do you have a record of a delivery to the address?” Margot indicated the address on the other side of the mailer as Adam flipped it over.
The woman looked at it, then riffled through the papers on her desk. “Um. I’m not sure. I wasn’t here yesterday and, as you can see—” She indicated the mess. “—the person filling in for me had no idea what they were doing.”
“Do you know what carriers were working yesterday?”
“We just have two, so it’s either Miguel or Josh.” The woman flipped a page in a calendar. “Looks like it was Miguel working yesterday. And…” She looked up and gave them the first smile since they’d come in. “You’re in luck. He’s working today.”
“That is good news,” Adam said.
Margot felt a subtle loosening of the tight knots in her stomach. This was good. They could talk to the person who delivered the package and maybe, with any luck, he could tell them what his instructions had been. Though, seeing the stack of papers and disorganization on the poor woman’s desk, Margot wasn’t sure she should hold out much hope for favorable information. It was clear their system of tracking packages wasn’t very good.
Just then, the door swung open and a young man walked in. He wore tattered skinny jeans and an old band t-shirt. A worn leather messenger bag was slung around his shoulders and he pushed a pair of round glasses further up his nose as he saw Adam and Margot.
“Hey,” he said, looking between them and the woman behind the desk. “What’s up?”
Adam stood and came toward the young man, hand outstretched. “Hello, I’m Detective Adam Eastwood. Are you, by chance, Miguel?”
“Uh, yeah.” Miguel shook Adam’s hand and looked at the woman again before meeting Adam’s gaze. “Was there a problem with a package or something?”
“Not exactly.” Adam turned to look at the woman. “Is there somewhere we could have a quick chat with Miguel here? Somewhere private?” He flashed a warm smile to put the woman at ease, an action Margot knew was more genuine than a tactic.
“Of course. Right this way. You can take Mister Phillips’s office since he’s out for the day.”
They followed her down the hall and then, once the chairs had been arranged, sat facing one another.
“I have some questions about a package you delivered yesterday,” Adam began.
Miguel swallowed, obviously nervous, and Margot smiled at him reassuringly when he glanced her way.
“This is Missus Durand,” Adam continued.
Miguel’s eyes rounded. “I recognize that name.”
“Good. Good.” Adam pulled out the package. “Was this the package you delivered?”
“Yep. That’s it. Was there something wrong?” He twisted his fingers together in his lap.
“No. You’re not in any kind of trouble, Miguel. We just need to ask you some questions.”
“Right. Sure. I’ll answer what I can.”
“Great.” Adam’s voice was calm and reassuring. “How long have you worked here?”
Margot noted Adam’s use of a baseline question. Something to get the young man talking and to help put him at ease.
“About six months now. I go to the community college in Williamston.”
“Great. What are you studying?” Adam’s conversational tone was obviously helping Miguel relax.
“Photography. I wanna get into product photography, but, like, the natural stuff. Lifestyle and all.”
“Very nice,” Adam said, nodding. “Were you here when this package was dropped off to be delivered?”
“Nah,” Miguel said, relaxing back against his chair. “It was kind of weird, actually.”
“How so?” Adam said.
Margot did her best not to lean forward in her excitement. It sounded like they were going to get a break—or at least she hoped so.
“Sometimes I’ll deliver stuff to the college. You know, make a few extra bucks from here to Williamston. I guess this guy saw me making deliveries—or maybe saw my bag, it’s got the logo, you know? But yeah, he asked if he could pay me in cash to deliver it.”
“This?” Adam held up the mailer for emphasis.
“Yeah, but it had something in it.”
“Right.” Adam nodded. “When was this?”
Miguel looked up at the ceiling, obviously trying to count the days. “Well, the guy said that he wanted me to wait on delivering it. Didn’t say why, just that it was important. He was all nervous, kind of jumpy—you know?”
“I do. So he told you to wait a few days?”
“Yep. Said the timing was important. I mean, hey—I deliver stuff for people all the time. I get special dates and times and whatever. So I waited like he said. It was supposed to be yesterday in the afternoon.”
“Did he say anything else?” Adam asked.
“Not that I can— Oh, yeah.”
Margot’s heart leapt at what Miguel might say.
“He said that, if I was to see the lady, I was supposed to say this was proof. I don’t know. I mean, it didn’t make sense to me. Plus, I knocked on the door and no one opened it.”
“Interesting.” Adam looke
d over at Margot then back to Miguel. “Anything else you can tell us about the person you met with? His name perhaps? You said he paid you in cash?”
“Nah, I didn’t get his name, and he did pay in cash. Gave a good tip too.”
Adam nodded.
“Would you know the man if you saw him again?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Miguel nodded enthusiastically.
“I’m going to have someone come over and show you a few photos. They’ll also take your statement and a description of the man. Was there anything about him that stuck out to you?”
“Not really,” Miguel said, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I guess his hair. It was kinda long and…flowy.” He looked embarrassed to say it, but then shrugged.
Margot’s mind immediately went to Paul. Had he been the one to enlist the boy’s help?
“Thank you very much, Miguel,” Adam said, standing.
Margot stood as well and, after he made arrangements for the boy to meet with someone from the police department, they left.
“It was Paul,” Margot said, when they were back in Adam’s car.
“You got a good look at him at the crime scene then?”
She remembered that he hadn’t yet seen all of the files from the case since he’d come back so late.
“Well enough. The familiarity is what drew me to really look at him, since I had met him before. His long hair was definitely a clear trait.”
“There’s something else I find interesting,” Adam said, pulling out of the tight parking lot and turning back toward Margot’s house.
“What’s that?”
“The mention of Williamston. That’s twice now.”
“You mean because Miguel goes to school there?”
“No, the fact that the stolen car was found in Williamston and then Paul connected with Miguel there. Maybe we’re looking in the wrong town.”
“Then let’s go,” Margot said in earnest.
“Hold on now,” Adam said, the smile evident in his voice. “We need to figure out where we need to look in Williamston. It’s a small town, but it’s still bigger than North Bank.”
Margot knew he had a good point, but it didn’t help her anxious feeling. She wanted to be doing something—anything.
Just then her phone rang and she saw the number of the bakery staring back up at her.
“Sorry, one moment.” She slid the accept button across and answered. “Hello, this is Margot.”
“Hey, boss,” Julia said.
“What’s up?” Julia knew she was supposed to be under house surveillance, so she wouldn’t have called unless it were important.
“There’s a man here who said he has an appointment with you?”
Margot’s eyes widened and she searched her mental calendar. “What day is it?” she whispered to Adam. He told her and her heart sank. “Oh no,” she said out loud.
“What?” Adam looked over at her before his eyes snapped back to the road.
“I forgot about meeting with Mister Peters about the wedding venue.”
She’d tried for weeks to get an appointment with him. It was a small, local venue and she knew that he declined most inquiries to use his location for weddings. She’d hoped she could butter him up with a few pastries, impress him with her own shop and business acumen, and then he’d agree to let she and Adam have their wedding at his boutique winery.
“Let’s go,” Adam said, making the next turn that would take them toward the bakery.
She smiled, loving Adam’s flexibility. Turning back to the phone, she said, “Julia, stall!”
Mr. Peters looked pleased when he left the The Parisian Pâtisserie, though Margot still wasn’t sure if they had a venue for their wedding. She and Adam had schmoozed him as much as possible before bringing up their request. While he’d been gracious, he’d required a week to think on it. Seeing as how they were in the middle of a murder investigation—not that she would have told the man that—she said he had all the time he needed. She just hoped he wouldn’t take it all.
“That went well,” Adam said, taking a bite of another flaky croissant. A piece landed on his lapel and she wiped it away, gazing up at him.
“The eternal optimist.”
“Hey, you never know. I could have charmed him with my wit and smile.”
“You’ve charmed me, we’ll let that be enough.”
He laughed and finished off the pastry. “But, while we’re here.” He eyed her office. “Dex in?”
Margot nodded, standing up from their small, round table by the large front window that let warm, golden light filter in. “He should be in the back.”
“Great. I wanted to ask him about the email.”
They went to the back and Margot handed her dishes to Julia, who was loading the washer. Rosie had gone home early with a headache, so she had offered to stay to watch the front and finish the cleanup.
Adam walked over to Dexter, who stood in the pantry doorway marking down items for their next supply trip.
“Hey,” he said, dropping his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Have a moment?”
Dexter looked up from his list, making eye contact with Margot. “If the boss says so.” He grinned.
“Yes,” she said, nodding toward him.
“Come on over.”
The three of them went to Margot’s office, Dexter taking the swiveling chair while Adam and Margot stood behind him to observe.
His fingers flew across the keyboard in a hailstorm of commands as he brought up parts of her processing system she didn’t even know existed. She’d always told him he could do whatever he wanted as long as he got it back to the ‘right way’ for her when she needed to use it. He’d laugh but always agreed—and always followed through.
“Were you able to find anything?” Adam prompted when Dexter had been quiet for a while.
“I did,” he said, still sounding distracted. A few more quick strokes and he dropped his hands while a program launched on the computer. “I tried every normal ‘trick’ I could to come up with for some information on this email and, while there wasn’t much to begin with, I was able to find out a few details.”
“Like?” Adam asked.
“First off, this email account was created the day it was sent and there’s been no other activity on it since. I’m sure your tech guys told you as much.”
“Right,” Adam agreed.
Margot shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wishing she knew more about computers and could read them like Dexter could. Then again, she was happy sticking to dough and flour.
“What they may not have noticed was the fact that it originates off of another email address linked to the Willimaston Community College.”
Margot felt her eyebrows hike up. There was the mention of the community college and Willimaston again. How odd.
“What do you mean?”
“The account was created on a Williamston Community College computer, which gives it a special locator you can see here,” Dexter pointed to something on the screen but Adam waved him on. “That means we basically know which computer and the location the email was sent from, but not who created it.”
“Don’t students have to login or something to use the computers?” Margot asked, thinking back to something her niece had told her about college.
“True, but it looks like this person logged in under guest access. They sometimes give that to visiting professors or guests of the college.” Dexter shrugged. “I’ve pretty much mined all I can from the email address.”
“What about the image?” Adam asked.
“That’s another, more challenging, story.”
“Great,” Margot said, crossing her arms.
Dexter winked at her. “When you send an image via email, it’s compressed and that’s what I’m dealing with here. The compressed image is not as…” He searched for the word. “…flexible as a raw image file. If I could look at what this was originally recorded on, I might be able to do somethin
g with it.”
“Got it.” Adam nodded then turned toward Margot. “Looks like we’re going on another road trip.”
7
They drove down the interstate toward Williamston, the sun shining through the windows of Adam’s car but not completely warming away the chill. The small town directly south of North Bank was, by nature of a coastal town, quaint and touristy, but where North Bank had a main row of shops, Williamston boasted a larger—and newer—mall. The industry gained from that drew people to the town, which increased its population but hadn’t seemed to decrease its charm much.
Margot and Adam had come down to shop or visit a new restaurant many times, the trip only taking an extra twenty to thirty minutes, but now the mood felt very different from those past trips.
“You think Mister Peters is going to let us use his venue?” Adam asked, breaking the silence with a question Margot wouldn’t have expected.
“I hope so.” She gave a light laugh. “I mean, we have other options, but…”
“His place is pretty perfect for our needs.”
“Exactly.”
“Is everything all right, Margot?” Adam asked, sneaking a quick glance at her.
“It’s just…” She sighed, letting her gaze travel out the window. “This brings up a lot of memories. You weren’t around, or I should say you didn’t know me right after Julian died. I was a mess, understandably, but I was also obsessed. I wanted—no, needed—to find his killer. But everyone banned me access to the documents and things I thought I needed to prove that it hadn’t been some senseless act of violence. I felt very powerless.” She let out a soft sigh.
“I can’t imagine how hard that was.”
She reached over and clasped Adam’s hand. “It was hard. Eventually, I learned to let it go, but I’ve never forgotten. That wasn’t possible.”
“No, of course not.”
He took the exit toward the community college and Margot took a deep breath.
“I do want to know the truth, but I never expected something from over six years ago would turn into…this.”
“You didn’t go seeking this out, though. It came to you. Paul came to you.”
A Killer Cover Up Page 5
