Drown Her Sorrows (Bree Taggert)

by Melinda Leigh

  “It’s possible.” But the explanation didn’t sit well in Matt’s gut. “Why would he kill Holly?”

  “Don’t know yet.” Bree shrugged, then winced and rubbed her injured arm below the bandage. “It doesn’t seem Paul was concerned about hiding his affairs any longer. He was open about them. How do we explain the two different methods of killing?”

  “Holly was a small woman, easily overpowered by a stronger woman or man,” Matt said. “Paul was not a small man, and he worked construction. He might have been carrying some extra weight, but he was still strong.”

  “Right. I just wanted to make sure we’re not making invalid assumptions.” Bree rubbed her forehead. “On that note, I’m going to do the press conference now. I want Owen and Shannon to feel secure enough to talk about Holly and Paul’s relationship. We need more evidence on Angela Beckett.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Last night, Paul Beckett was shot to death at his home.” Bree faced the press and gave a quick recap of the crime. “Today, his son Noah Beckett has confessed to the murder. I cannot comment on the validity of the confession, as we are still investigating.”

  Video cameras whirled, flashes went off, and reporters fired questions. Bree nodded toward a tall man in the front.

  “Sheriff, did Noah Beckett also kill Holly Thorpe?” he asked.

  “We don’t have the answer to that question yet.” Bree pointed to another reporter. “This is still an active investigation.”

  A woman asked, “Are the deaths of Holly Thorpe and Paul Beckett related?”

  “We are looking hard at the possibility that they were killed by the same person,” Bree said. “But at this time, we cannot confirm that.”

  The blonde woman followed up. “Didn’t Holly Thorpe work for Paul Beckett?”

  “Yes,” Bree said. “There is a definite link between the victims. But we need hard evidence to connect their deaths as well.”

  “So, Noah didn’t confess to killing Holly Thorpe?”

  “No, he did not.” Bree summoned patience, then took three more questions and ended the press conference. The ibuprofen she’d taken before the press con had barely made a dent in her pain.

  Back inside the station, she grabbed Matt from the conference room. “I want Owen to relax. I’ll interview him solo. I want you to watch from the monitoring room.”

  “OK.” Matt headed for a closed door down the hall.

  Bree tugged on her sling but could find no position for her arm that was comfortable. Ibuprofen wasn’t touching the pain. She took a deep breath and went into the room.

  Owen was waiting inside, watching the screen on his phone. He looked up and set his phone on the table as she entered.

  Bree sat next to him and turned her chair to face him. He looked rough, with bags under his eyes big enough to hold groceries. But he was sober and showered. His jeans and T-shirt looked clean with just a few normal wrinkles, not the kind that came from sleeping in your clothes for several days.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  He sighed. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel real, you know?”

  “I know. It will in time.”

  “I’m not sure I want it to feel real.” He pulled out a paper and slid it across the table. “I answered those questions like you asked.”

  “Thank you.” Bree skimmed his answers. His statement was brief but matched what he’d told her verbally. She pushed the page back to him. “I’ll need you to sign your statement.”

  “OK.” He picked up a pen from the table, signed the paper, and gave it back to her.

  Bree slid it into her folder. “I have a few additional questions.” She handed him a Miranda form, read his rights, and asked him to sign the acknowledgment.

  Owen balked at the form. “Didn’t somebody confess to killing Paul Beckett? I kind of assumed the same person killed Holly. I was feeling better that you’d caught the guy.”

  “Yes,” Bree lied. “But I still have to cross all my t’s and dot all my i’s. We can’t take the risk that a defense attorney would claim we didn’t do a thorough job and get him off.”

  “I guess.” Owen signed the Miranda form, but he seemed reluctant.

  “This interview is being recorded.” Bree took the form. “You obviously know Paul Beckett was killed last night.”

  Owen nodded. “I saw it on the news.”

  “You said you assumed the same person killed Holly and Paul. Is there a reason?”

  He lifted a hand. “Considering Holly worked for Paul, it just seems crazy to think they were both killed within days of each other by different people. Maybe it’s all about Beckett Construction.” Owen’s brows furrowed. “Maybe Paul was doing something illegal.”

  Bree watched him closely. “I don’t know. His son is the one who confessed to killing him.”

  “Did he say he killed Holly too?”

  “No. Why would he?”

  Owen shook his head and stared at his hands. “But he did it, right? He killed Paul.”

  “We can’t say with one hundred percent accuracy at this time. You understand.”

  “Of course.” He exhaled. “But why would Paul’s son kill Holly?”

  “We don’t know. Did you know Holly went to Paul Beckett’s house?”

  “No.” Owen’s shoulders snapped straight.

  “She did.”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “The Becketts were involved in a divorce. Mrs. Beckett had a private investigator following her husband.”

  Owen was quiet for a few seconds. “What does that have to do with Holly? She could have been dropping off something for the business. She did work for him.”

  “If it was that simple, why did she lie to you about it? You said that Holly was going out with Deb for drinks Tuesday night. Deb says Holly blew her off to drive out to Paul’s house.”

  Owen shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you ever suspect Holly was having an affair with Paul Beckett?”

  “No!” Owen jumped to his feet, his face red. His chair scraped backward on the linoleum. “How can you even ask that? She would never have cheated on me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to ask the question. It’s my job.”

  Owen slowly lowered himself back into the chair. “It just doesn’t seem fair to attack Holly’s reputation when she isn’t here to defend herself.”

  “I know, but a good defense attorney will explore all angles, and you can bet Noah’s mother will hire the best attorney she can find for her son.”

  Owen frowned. “Rich people always get off.”

  “I don’t want Holly’s killer to get away with anything. Noah has only confessed to his father’s murder. I have to prove he also killed Holly, and I have to be thorough. Please bear with me. I’m doing this for Holly. You want her killer caught, right?”

  “Right.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, as if preparing for a fight. “OK.”

  “Do you know of any special relationship between Holly and Paul?”

  “No.”

  “Did Holly ever mention any illegal activities at Beckett Construction?”

  “No.” Owen shook his head.

  Bree tossed out another zinger. “Do you have any idea why Holly and Paul would have talked on the phone at midnight back in March?”

  Owen stiffened, and he looked away as he answered, “No.”

  Was he lying? Or simply defensive at the idea that his wife had cheated?

  Bree continued. “Where were you last night between seven forty and eight p.m.?”

  “I was home,” Owen said.

  “Alone?”

  He nodded. “My brother had to go back to work. I showered and shaved and did some laundry.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Bree meant it. “Did you order any takeout or talk with anyone on the phone?”

  He shook his head. “After I got cleaned up, I was really tired. I slept for twelve hours straight.”

 
“OK, Owen. If you think of anything else, please call me.”

  He gave a single stiff nod. “OK.”

  Bree escorted him to the lobby. The news vans had cleared out after the press conference, and Owen walked across a mostly empty parking lot. After he left, Marge caught Bree’s attention. “Shannon Phelps is in interview room two.”

  “Thanks.” Bree stopped in the monitoring room, where Matt sat facing two screens. She closed the door behind her. “What do you think?”

  “He seems sure Holly didn’t cheat.” Matt stroked his beard, which was on the long side. Usually, he shaved or trimmed it at this point.

  “I agree. So, what were she and Paul up to?” she asked. “Maybe Shannon knows.”

  “Want me to watch from here?” Matt asked.

  Bree considered the question. “Actually, I’d like you to do the interview. She connected with you more than me. I want her talkative.” When Matt stood, she took his chair. It was still warm from his body.

  “You’re feeling OK?”

  “No,” she said, surprised at her own honesty. “But I’ll live. Go interview Shannon. See what you can get out of her.”

  “Will do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Matt walked into the interview room. Shannon’s eyes were still red and sore-looking, as if she’d been crying for days. But then, he supposed she had.

  “Thanks so much for coming in.” Instead of sitting across the table from her, Matt took the chair beside her.

  She sniffed and looked down at the crumpled tissue in her hand. “I keep thinking I’ll feel less sad tomorrow, but every day I wake up and it’s the same.”

  “It’ll take time.” Matt read her rights. “Do you understand?”

  Shannon nodded.

  Matt slid a Miranda form toward her. “I need to ask you some more questions. Did you know someone confessed to killing Paul Beckett?”

  Shannon nodded. “Did he kill Holly too?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to determine.” He nudged the form closer, then set a pen on top of it. “First I need you to sign this form.”

  She stared at it as if it were a big fat bug. “Why? Am I a suspect?”

  He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “The sheriff insists.”

  “OK.” Frowning, she signed her name.

  “Thank you.” Matt pushed the paper away. “I also need to tell you that this interview is being recorded. In case you give us any important information, we don’t want to get any of the details wrong.”

  Shannon nodded.

  Matt continued. “So, Paul Beckett’s son confessed to killing his father. Do you have any idea why he’d want to kill Holly too?”

  Shannon shook her head hard. “I don’t even know him.”

  “Holly worked for Paul. Are you aware of any other special relationship between them?”

  Shannon’s brows came together. “What do you mean?”

  Matt leaned closer. “Holly was seen at Paul’s house. There was also a late-night call between them.”

  Shannon shifted her weight back. “Are you asking me if Holly cheated on Owen? Because if you are, the answer is no.”

  “But Holly had left Owen multiple times.”

  “She always went back. As much as they fought, when they were together, they were really together.”

  “So, why might Holly have gone to Paul’s house?”

  “It must have been something to do with the business.” Shannon blotted her eyes. “I only met Paul Beckett twice, but I didn’t like him much. He was an arrogant bully.”

  “How did he treat Holly?”

  “She was always complaining about him. He yelled at people, but he paid pretty well. She got good benefits, and he wasn’t in the office much. Some days she didn’t interact with him at all.” Shannon squirmed, and her gaze shifted to the floor. She knew something she wasn’t saying. “A few weeks ago, Holly told me something that made me worry.”

  “Like what?”

  Shannon looked at the ceiling. “She said, ‘I hope I don’t get in trouble.’ Like he was asking her to do something illegal. I asked her what, but she wouldn’t say. She changed the subject.”

  “I also need to ask you where you were Wednesday evening between seven forty and eight o’clock.” Matt could not think of any motivation for Shannon to have killed Paul, but then again, they didn’t know why he’d been murdered yet. An alibi would make it easier to cross Shannon off the list.

  “I took Chicken to the vet.” She lifted her purse off the table. “His appetite has been off. I think I still have the receipt here.” She produced a crumpled piece of paper and smoothed out the wrinkles.

  “I’d like to make a copy of that.” Matt glanced at the paper. The register receipt was time-stamped seven forty-six. He would follow up, but it seemed Shannon hadn’t killed Paul Beckett.

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Matt left the room and ran off a copy on the machine in the conference room. He came back and gave her the original, which she shoved into her purse.

  “What did the vet say?”

  “She didn’t find anything wrong with him.” She lifted a shoulder.

  “Rescues, especially nervous ones, can take months to adjust to their new homes.” Matt frowned.

  “She said he might be picking up on my emotions.” She worried her lip.

  “Dogs can be very sensitive,” Matt said. “I’m sure he’ll be OK. Thanks again for coming in.”

  She smiled back at him. “Thank you for working so hard to find my sister’s killer.”

  Matt walked her out, then returned to the monitoring room. Bree was holding her arm against her body as if the pain was getting worse. “You heard her alibi?”

  “I did.” Bree sounded doubtful.

  “You don’t believe her?”

  “I don’t know.” She chewed on her lip. “But there’s something nagging me about her interview.”

  “I know the vet. Let me call them.” Matt lifted his phone. After speaking with the receptionist, he texted a photo of Shannon to the vet’s office to confirm her ID. He set down his phone. “It was her.”

  Bree shook her head, rewound the interview, and watched it again. “She didn’t give us any new information.”

  “Except she didn’t think Holly was having sex with Paul either,” Matt said. “And she has a solid alibi.”

  “So, we’re back to Angela.” Bree checked the time on her phone. “Who will be here with her attorney any minute. She left a message while you were interviewing Shannon. Angela sounded angry.”

  “This should be fun.” Matt scratched his chin.

  Bree lifted a folder in her lap. “We received the financials for Beckett Construction. Holly was Paul’s bookkeeper. She also had more cash than she should have. Could Paul have been paying her to do something illegal for him?” She shook the file. “Maybe the answer is in here.”

  “Do you want me to go through them?” Matt offered.

  Bree shook her head. “No. I need to go home tonight. I promised Kayla.” Her small smile was wry. “But I’m going to review these later. Do you want to come for dinner?”

  “Yes. What’s Dana making?” Matt had finished his dad’s pot roast, and he wasn’t in the mood to cook. Besides, Dana was a master in the kitchen.

  “I’ll ask.” Still smiling, Bree picked up her phone and sent a text. Her phone vibrated a few seconds later. “Tortellini with prosciutto and peas.”

  “I’m in.”

  Someone knocked on the door, and Marge stuck her head in. “Angela Beckett and her attorney are here.”

  Matt rubbed his hands together. “How do you want to do this?”

  “We’ll both go in. Two on two. Besides, I wanted Owen and Shannon to feel comfortable to get them talking. Angela needs a different approach.”

  “Let’s do this.”

  Bree shook her head. “I need coffee, and Angela needs to marinate for a few minutes.”

  They stopped in the break room for two coffee
s.

  “Do you want another pack of candy?” Matt asked.

  “No, thanks. I’ve had more than enough.”

  He handed her the coffee. They sipped for ten minutes before heading to the interview room. The attorney sat at the table. Disappointment slid through Matt. The lawyer’s eyes were steely gray and sharp. He wore a custom-fitted suit of deep navy blue and a pricey pale-blue silk tie, but the briefcase on the table in front of him was battered and worn. He was expensive, confident, and experienced. There would be no bullshitting him or goading his client into her own confession.

  Angela paced the narrow aisle behind his chair. She spun on one heel as they entered the room. If her eyes could have shot laser beams, then Matt and Bree would have been sliced into bloody ribbons.

  “How. Dare. You.” Angela started toward them. Her face was red and blotchy, and she bit the words off with gritted teeth. “You arrested Noah.”

  Matt stepped in front of Bree’s wounded arm. But Angela’s attorney caught his client by the elbow and stopped her movement. He shook his head and gave her a look of warning. She lifted her chin and glared down her nose at Bree and Matt with a nastiness that Matt hadn’t expected. Angela was an attractive woman, usually composed and elegant, but now, her mouth was curled in an ugly snarl. She looked like she wanted to rip off their heads with her teeth.

  She looked like a woman capable of committing murder.

  Her attorney tugged her into the chair next to him, leaned over, and whispered in her ear.

  She sat completely stiff and unmoving. When the attorney straightened, she exhaled hard. If she were a dragon, she would be breathing fire. She said nothing, but Matt could see that she wanted to let loose.

  Bree and Matt took the chairs opposite.

  The attorney slid two business cards across the table. “I’m Richard Sterling. I’ll be representing Mrs. Beckett.”

  They skipped the handshakes. Bree introduced herself and Matt. Then she went through the Miranda rights spiel and handed the acknowledgment to Angela. She ignored it.

  “This interview is being recorded,” Bree said. “Let the record show that Angela Beckett was informed of her rights, and that her attorney is present for questioning.”