“Is this about Holly?” Deb’s mouth went grim.
“Yes,” Bree said.
Deb looked over Bree’s shoulder and frowned. She cleared her throat while covering her mouth, then whispered, “Can we go outside?”
Bree glanced back. The manager was watching them.
“Let’s get some fresh air,” Matt said in a louder voice, then motioned toward the door. He held it open for Bree and Deb, and the three of them walked onto the concrete walkway and around the corner to the side parking lot.
“Thanks.” Deb pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. “Roger is an OK guy, but he can’t keep his nose out of other people’s business. He’s the last person you want to tell something personal.”
Was she going to share some personal information?
But Deb was quiet for a few seconds as she lit a cigarette.
Bree blinked as a plume of smoke blew directly in her face. “When was the last time you saw Holly?”
Deb drew on her cigarette. “Friday. I only work two days a week at Beckett, usually Thursdays and Fridays, but sometimes they ask me to switch. It all depends on what needs to be done.”
“What do you do there?” Bree asked.
Deb blew a smoke ring. “Whatever they need. Mostly payroll, but every quarter they also need help with tax docs.”
“Was Holly acting normally?” Bree took her notepad from her pocket.
Deb shrugged. “I guess.”
The wind shifted, and the smoke trailed into Bree’s nose. “How well do you know her?”
“I dunno.” Deb’s shoulder jerked.
“Would you consider yourself Holly’s friend?” Matt asked.
“Just a work friend.” Deb flicked ashes from her cigarette. “We might grab a drink after work to bitch about stuff, but we don’t hang out other than that. We haven’t even done the happy-hour thing in ages.”
Bree lifted her pen. “You didn’t go out with her last week?”
“No.” Deb’s brows knitted. “It’s been at least a month, probably more. She keeps blowing me off.” She sounded a little hurt and went quiet again.
Bree tried another angle. “Do you like your job at Beckett Construction?”
“No.” Deb snorted. “I’m probably gonna quit. I was trying to get out of waitressing. Working in an office doesn’t make my feet hurt, but it’s just not worth it. I asked Roger today if I could get more hours here.”
“Why?” Matt asked.
“Because Paul Beckett is a fucking octopus.” Deb made a disgusted face. “Handsy as hell. He’s so old. It’s gross.”
Bree was not surprised. Paul acted like a man who thought the rules didn’t apply to him.
“What do you mean handsy?” Anger brightened Matt’s eyes. Like most good men, he was always offended by men who used their power to abuse women.
Deb frowned. “I mean, he’ll go out of his way to rub up against me, and he’s grabbed my ass a couple of times. And then he smirks, like there’s nothing I can do about it.” She dragged on her smoke, then nodded toward the restaurant. “Roger’s as gossipy as an old lady, but he’s decent and keeps his hands to himself.”
Matt’s mouth flattened. “Did he proposition you or threaten to fire you if you didn’t have sex with him?”
“No. He never took it any further.” Bitterness dripped from Deb’s words. “He just likes to show me that he can do whatever he wants. Not that everyone minds,” she added, her voice huffy.
“Who doesn’t mind?” Bree asked.
“Holly.” Deb dropped her cigarette and ground it under the toe of her shoe.
Bree’s brain clicked as a piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Did she say that?”
“No.” Deb gave Bree an are you stupid? look. “But I know she was fucking him.”
“Holly was having sex with Paul?” Bree clarified.
“That’s what fucking generally means.” Deb lit another cigarette, as if she was trying to inhale as much nicotine as possible while on her unscheduled break.
“How do you know?” Bree asked.
“I saw them together.” Deb dragged hard on her second cigarette. She glanced toward the front of the restaurant. “Look, I was attracted to Holly.” She stared at Bree, then Matt in challenge, as if daring them to judge her. “I knew nothing would ever happen between us. She didn’t go that way, but seeing her with Paul . . .” She shook her head. “Her marriage was intense. She was always bitching about wicked fights she’d have with her husband, but she always said she loved him too. After I saw her with Paul, I thought she was mostly just full of shit.”
Bree tried to make sense of her rambling. “Where did you see them together?”
Deb flushed. “Last Tuesday—I asked Holly to go out for drinks. She said she had to get home, but she was acting really weird.” The woman glanced away. “I followed her.” She flicked more ash. “She drove to Paul’s house. He answered the door and let her in.”
Interesting.
“Do you have any proof?” Bree asked.
“Like pictures?” Deb’s voice rose.
Bree nodded.
“Hell no. That’s creepy. I got the hell out of there before either of them saw me.” Deb smashed her second cigarette, the gesture both angry and final. “What kind of a weirdo do you think I am?”
Bree assumed the question was rhetorical because Deb had been jealous enough to follow Holly, and that was strange enough.
Stalkerish, even.
Which prompted Bree to ask, “Where were you last Friday night?”
Deb jerked. “What?”
Bree rephrased her question to be more specific. “Where were you between five o’clock Friday evening and noon on Saturday?”
Deb drew in a small gasp. “That’s when Holly was killed, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Bree said.
Deb pressed a hand to the base of her throat. “What the hell? I give you information, and you turn it back on me?”
“We’re ruling everyone out who was in Holly’s life,” Bree lied.
Deb squinted, her expression becoming more guarded. “I worked the breakfast shift on Saturday morning.” She inclined her head toward the diner. “Had to be in at five, so I stayed home Friday night and went to bed early.”
“Can you prove you were home?” Bree prodded. Deb was impulsive and temperamental. Anger might make her drop her guard.
She lowered her hand and clenched it into a fist. “I live alone.”
“Did you order pizza or see any neighbors?” Matt asked.
“No.” Deb evened her weight between both feet. “You can’t pin this on me.” Anger deepened her voice.
“We’re not trying to pin this on anyone.” Bree faced her squarely. “But we will find who killed Holly.”
Deb glanced at the diner. “You should talk to Paul’s wife, Angela.”
“But Paul and his wife have been separated for months,” Bree said. “Why would she care?”
Deb’s eyes went a little mean, and she lowered her voice. “For one, Holly was fucking her husband. Two, Paul was heading for bankruptcy. The company was bleeding cash and posting losses every month.”
“What do you mean?” Bree asked.
Deb shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I could get into trouble.” She shrugged. “Fuck it. I’m quitting anyway. Paul is up to something. When I ask him about unusual transactions, he gets all mad and refuses to answer my questions.” She gave her head a frustrated shake. “He’s such an asshole. It is my actual frigging job to reconcile the accounts, which I can’t do if I can’t categorize expenses.” She huffed. “And he’s been acting just generally weird.”
“In what way?”
“Jumpy and even more cranky than usual.” She pursed her lips. “One night a few weeks ago, I stayed late to work on the first-quarter statements with Holly. Paul came in. I’m not sure he knew I was there. He went into his office and left the door open. I saw him take a thick envelope out of his safe. It was
full of cash. He counted it, put it in his pocket, and left.”
“Do you remember what day this was?”
Deb’s eyebrows dropped into a V. She pulled out her phone and opened her calendar. “It was three or four weeks ago, on a Wednesday. I didn’t put it on my calendar because they called me in at the last minute.”
Someone knocked on the glass, and they all turned to look. Roger gestured to his watch, then pointed at Deb and mouthed, “Sorry.”
She waved back at him. “The lunch rush will start soon. I really have to go.”
“Thank you for your help.” Bree watched Deb disappear into the diner.
Matt stroked his beard. “I can’t decide if she’s angrier because Paul grabbed her or more jealous that Holly slept with him and not her.”
“I suspect both. Emotionally, she was all over the place.” Bree started toward her vehicle. “We have a solid reason to officially make Paul Beckett a suspect—and request additional warrants.” She called Todd. “In addition to the background info on Paul and his company, I want personal bank and credit card statements and business financials as well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Todd said. “We’ve fielded a dozen calls from news outlets.”
Bree sighed. “OK. Call a press conference for this afternoon. I’ll give an update on the case and take questions.” She ended the call.
“Don’t look so annoyed,” Matt said.
“You know press conferences are one of my least favorite activities.”
“Look on the bright side. We have two new suspects to investigate.”
But Bree had been hoping this case would wrap up quickly. Instead, it was getting more complicated.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Matt settled at one of the deputy cubicles and spent the next few hours typing reports, summarizing interviews, and doing basic research on their suspects. Todd requested subpoenas and phone and financial records, while Bree was tied up with the press conference and paperwork. The regular duties of being a sheriff didn’t go away because of a fresh homicide case. Todd and Matt reviewed reports as they came in. Shannon Phelps called to report her alarm company had sent a tech to her house, and he was currently making the changes Matt had suggested to her security system, along with a few additional upgrades.
It was four o’clock before Bree met Matt and Todd in the conference room. Matt brought his folders and laptop with him.
Bree sat at the head of the table and stretched. “Where are we?”
Todd closed the door behind him and dropped into a chair.
Matt started. “I have the background report on Paul Beckett. No criminal record, just a bunch of speeding tickets he’s accumulated over the past year.” He turned to the page on Beckett Construction. “His construction company was started by his father over thirty years ago. Paul has been working there since the beginning. He became president eight years ago after his father had a massive fatal heart attack at a jobsite.” Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache had formed behind it. “We’re still waiting on his financial statements.”
“Anything on Holly’s laptop?” Bree asked.
Todd shook his head. “The tech at the lab is working on it now.” He opened his own laptop. “I checked out Deb Munchin. No criminal record, but she was arrested for stalking and harassing a coworker at a dollar store two years ago.”
Matt perked up. That sounded promising. “Did the arrest report contain any specifics?”
Todd nodded. “A female coworker claimed Deb followed her home from work and sat outside her apartment, watching her.”
“Creepy.” Bree made a note. “And Deb admitted to doing just that with Holly.”
“Yeah,” Todd agreed. “But the charges were dropped when Deb agreed to leave her alone. She quit the job, and there were no more complaints. So, I assume she complied.”
“Still.” Bree drummed her fingers on the table. “Stalking is a very personal crime.”
“Like choking,” Matt added. “And we already know that Deb had a thing for Holly.”
“And Deb admitted to following Holly to Paul’s house. Jealousy is a potential motivation for the murder.” Bree straightened. “Let’s dig deeper into Deb’s background and contact the victim for more information.”
Todd typed on his keyboard. “Background information on Billy Zinke shows no criminal record. I found nothing on him more serious than a few parking tickets.”
Bree looked thoughtful. “Can we think of other ways to poke holes in Owen’s alibi? He’s not at the top of my list right now, but I don’t want to leave clues unturned.”
“I could go to the Grey Fox to talk to the regulars,” Todd suggested. “If Owen is a regular, then people might remember him being there last Friday night.”
Bree nodded. “Not a bad idea. Go in plain clothes. Take Collins with you. Female patrons will feel more comfortable talking to a woman.”
“Yes, ma’am. What about Shannon?” Todd asked. “Is she still a suspect?”
Bree nodded. “Yes. It’s too early to rule anyone completely out. On one hand, she doesn’t have an alibi, and she has motivation to kill Holly. On the other, she will suffer financially because Holly is no longer around to share the cost of their mother’s medical bills.”
Matt scrolled on his computer. “The preliminary autopsy report is in. No surprises.” The final autopsy report wouldn’t be complete until all the tox screens came in, which would take weeks. “There’s a trace-evidence report from forensics. Traces of something called metabasalt was found in the trunk of Holly’s car.”
“Metabasalt?” Bree looked up.
Matt skimmed the report. “A billion-year-old stone from the Blue Ridge Mountains of West Virginia, blah blah blah. It’s ground into a green clay that’s used in making Har-Tru tennis courts.”
“No one has mentioned Holly playing tennis,” Bree said.
“Maybe she didn’t, but maybe her killer does,” Matt said.
Bree stood. “We’ll do a follow-up interview with Shannon.”
“I’d also like to talk to Paul again.” Matt couldn’t decide if he was difficult—or guilty.
“Not sure what we’ll learn from him. He’s uncooperative.” Bree frowned.
Exactly, thought Matt. “And I want to know why.”
“Let’s set up an appointment to talk to him.” Bree reached for her phone.
Matt stopped her with a raised hand. “Or, we could follow him tonight and see where he goes after work.”
“A stakeout?” Bree groaned.
“I know they suck,” Matt said.
Stakeouts were not as exciting as they were portrayed on TV. They were mostly sitting in your vehicle eating fast food and trying not to fall asleep.
“It could take days to catch Paul doing anything at all, let alone something illegal.”
“I know,” he agreed. “But Deb said Paul took a bunch of cash out of his safe on a Wednesday night. Tonight is also a Wednesday night. Also, he won’t talk to us, and we both thought he was hiding something. We need to find out what he’s up to. We could get lucky.”
“You’re right. We’ll try a stakeout.” She checked the time on her phone. “Let’s break for dinner. I’ll pick you up afterward.”
Matt grabbed his files and drove home. Cady’s van was in the driveway. Matt collected his mail, then went into the house.
His sister was unsnapping Greta’s leash. “I just had them outside. I was here anyway, and I didn’t know what time you’d be home.”
Matt gave her a quick one-armed hug. “Thanks.” His sister’s eyes were red, and she looked tired. “Are you OK?”
Cady nodded, then sighed. “I saw Greg yesterday.”
Matt stiffened. “Was he bothering you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It was an accidental encounter. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him.”
“But?” Anger flared in Matt’s chest.
Cady gave him a jerky shrug. “He’s still an ass.”
But the incident had upset her. Matt wanted to drive to her ex’s house and upset him.
“Want me to kill him for you?” He was joking. Mostly.
“No.” She put a hand on his forearm. “I’m a little sad, but I’ll be OK. In a way, it was good to see that he hasn’t changed. It confirms that I made the right call divorcing him.”
“Did you honestly ever question that?”
Cady let out a long breath through her mouth. “I wasn’t thinking straight back then.”
“You were grieving,” Matt corrected.
She nodded. “I’ll be OK in a couple of days. I just need to keep busy.”
Matt assessed her with a frown. He’d been wrong when he’d assumed that she’d gotten over it. She was still grieving. If she’d had a partner who’d worked through their shared grief with her, like a team, would she still be this unhappy? Equating marriage with teamwork brought Bree to mind.
“It’s not like I don’t ever think about him,” she said in a sad voice.
Matt knew the him she was referring to was not her ex but the baby who’d never had a chance. His heart broke for her. He gave her a hard hug. “I’m always here for you.”
“I know, and thanks.” Cady hugged him back. “Now, let’s talk about something else.”
Brody and Greta crowded Matt for pets. He knelt down and tried to give both dogs equal attention. Greta lost interest and chased after a tennis ball, but Brody leaned on Matt, who stroked his side. “There’s my boy.”
Matt set his files on the table.
“Dad sent pot roast.” Cady pointed to the fridge. “He knows you’re working an investigation and didn’t want you to starve to death. You should probably call the ’rents. They worry.”
“I will.” Matt laughed. “They really know how to pile on the guilt.”
“At least they also pile on the mashed potatoes and gravy.”
“Good point.” Matt’s stomach rumbled. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay. There’s nothing like Dad’s pot roast.”
A retired family doctor, Matt’s dad was the cook in the family. Their mom was a retired teacher who couldn’t make edible toast.
Cady tapped the closed folder on the top of Matt’s stack. “I know Shannon Phelps.”
Drown Her Sorrows (Bree Taggert) Page 12
