by Linda Berry
Miko backed out from under the hood, wiped his hands, then lowered the hood with a sharp clang. He turned to face them, scowling. A handsome man about five-foot-eight, of Japanese descent, Miko looked every bit his fifty years. His face and neck were deeply creased, his hands sunburned and calloused, his short hair surprisingly white. His eyes were so dark she could barely delineate the pupil from the iris.
She introduced herself and Granger, but Miko made no move to shake hands. He stood silently waiting.
“I’m sorry to have to deliver some disturbing news,” Sidney said.
His eyes narrowed minutely.
“Last night a woman was discovered in the woods just up the road from here. She was murdered.”
Miko’s face remained expressionless, but Sidney caught a slight twitch at the corner of his eyes.
“And you’re here to accuse me?”
“We’re not accusing anyone. We’re conducting our investigation, which means we want to talk to people who live in the area. See if anyone noticed anything suspicious.”
“When was she murdered?”
“Around 11:30 p.m.”
His shoulders slouched, and for a moment he looked like he might faint.
“You better sit down, Mr. Matsui.” Granger took his arm and guided him to a wooden bench. Miko’s body slumped onto it. “Would you like some water?”
He shook his head.
“Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right. That’s the same time my wife was killed, three years ago.” He made a faint gesture towards the woods. “Back in there.” He gazed up at Sidney, his dark eyes searching hers. The pain in that look took her breath away. “Was this woman murdered the same way as Mimi?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Matsui. I can’t comment on an on-going investigation.”
“Who found her so late?”
“Your neighbor. Ann was walking her dog. Bailey ran off into the woods and she went after him. A terrifying experience. Are you two friendly?”
“I’ve never met her. She keeps to herself. And since Mimi was killed, I do the same. People in town look at me like I’m a murderer.” His voice thickened for a moment, but then he regained control. “I don't sell at the farmers market anymore. All my produce goes out of town.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She meant it. Indiscriminate judgment of people angered her. “I’m sorry to ask, Mr. Matsui, but where were you last night at eleven-thirty?”
“I’m a farmer. Work starts at dawn. I’m dead asleep by eight.”
Sidney took out her iPhone and brought up a picture of Samantha. “Do you know this woman?”
He pulled wire-rimmed glasses from his breast pocket, set them on his nose, and studied the picture. “No,” he said sadly. “No one should die this young.”
They shared a moment of respectful silence.
She brought up the photo of the origami butterfly. “Does this mean anything to you?”
A muscle twitched along his jaw. “No. What is it?”
“Nothing important.” Certain he was hiding something Sidney pocketed the phone.
Granger had whipped out his notebook and was scribbling notes. She turned back to Miko. “We’re going to give Mimi’s case a fresh look. Mind if I ask a few questions?”
“Not if it helps find her killer.”
“Did you attend her church?”
“No. I’m a Buddhist. But I went to her concerts.”
“I understand two men from her congregation were brought in for questioning during the investigation.”
He nodded. “Derek Brent and Tom Sevinski. I can’t see either of them as her killer, though.”
“Why is that?”
“Tom and Mimi didn’t like each other, and everybody knew it. They were on the fundraising committee, and they disagreed on everything. He was a control freak. They got into a yelling match a couple of times. But Tom’s old and frail. Has a heart condition. Can’t imagine him… doing that to Mimi.”
“What about Derek?”
Miko made a face. “He’s a piece of work.”
“How so?”
“Arrogant. Stuck on himself. He played piano for the choir. Mimi was asked to do a couple solo pieces for the Harvest Concert, and he practiced with her a few nights a week, alone at the church. One night after practice, she came home upset. I asked her what was wrong. She wouldn’t tell me.” Miko’s face tightened. “Something happened between them. I never found out what. But they did the concert together. She was killed a few weeks later.”
Silence.
“Turns out, he had an alibi,” Miko continued. “Said he was visiting his sister’s family. They live in Maple Grove. They vouched for him.” Miko gave Sidney a piercing look. “Even without an alibi, it couldn’t have been him.”
“Why is that?”
“If you think the same man killed both women, it wasn’t Derek. He was in a bad car wreck a few weeks after Mimi died. He was mangled. Burned. Last I heard, he was in a wheel chair with no hope of fully recovering. He left town to go to some nursing home. So, he couldn’t have killed the woman last night.”
Sidney reflected on the two men. Neither sounded like a strong suspect, but both names would stay on the list. “Where was the nursing home?”
Miko shrugged. “Beats me.”
“What’s his sister’s name?”
He thought for a long moment. “Becky… something.”
Granger stopped scribbling. “Is your son around? We’d like to talk to him.”
“He’s at the store.” Miko cast Granger a suspicious look.
“Just routine questions.”
The sound of tires crunching on gravel came up the driveway and stopped outside the barn. A car door opened and shut, the sound of heavy boots approached, and the silhouette of a muscular man appeared at the door.
“Dad, you okay?”
“Yeah. These officers want to ask you a few questions.”
“We’ll talk to him outside, Mr. Matsui. Stay put for a few minutes.”
Outside, face-to-face, Sidney sized up Noah, committing the details to the memory bank she’d trained herself to develop. He had Miko’s dark skin and eyes, full lips, stood about six-feet tall and had shoulder-length black hair. He wore faded jeans, a denim shirt, and thick-soled work boots. Tattoos ran from his hands up his forearms, disappeared under his rolled-up shirtsleeves, and reappeared on his neck. His muscular build boasted of a significant amount of time devoted to weightlifting. He stood next to an old, white Ram pickup, his legs spread apart, hands folded in front, eyes hard, jaw tense. A stance meant to intimidate.
“I’m Police Chief Becker, Noah, and this is Officer Wyatt. Mind if we ask you a few questions?”
“Shoot.”
Sidney showed Noah the picture of Samantha. “You know this girl?”
“Never seen her before.”
Noah arranged his face into a jailhouse smirk, one she had encountered countless times on felons in Oakland. “That’s interesting, since Samantha testified against you in court three years ago. You’re the charmer who got her hooked on pain pills, introduced her to heroin, and supplied her habit.”
Tightening his lips, Noah’s gaze bore into Sidney with such ferocity she felt it like a beam of heat.
“Couldn’t have made you too happy that her testimony put you behind bars,” Granger said, with a steel edge in his tone. “While she got a light sentence.”
Noah smiled, but it was a dark smile.
“Witnesses say you threatened her,” Sidney said. “Told her she’d pay for being a snitch.”
“That’s old history. I did my time. Paid my debt. What’re you harassing me for?”
“You been in touch with Samantha since you’ve been out?” Granger asked.
“Now why would I do that? It’s a parole violation to associate with known felons. If she said I did, she’s a lying bitch.” He pulled a pack of Camels from his pocket, tucked a smoke between his lips, lit it with a Bic lighter. His che
eks hollowed as he sucked in smoke, then he exhaled long tendrils through his nostrils.
“Samantha was killed last night,” Sidney said. “Her body was found in the woods behind your property.”
Aside from Noah’s eyes narrowing, he showed little expression. “Killing woods. Took my stepmom. I stay outta there.” He took another drag and blew it out, squinting one eye. “I can’t say I’m surprised Sammy’s dead. She crossed a lotta lines. Ratted people out.” He paused a beat. “Someone was gonna get her sooner or later. But it wasn’t me.”
Granger’s eyes went hard, and he delivered a burning glare. “Where were you last night around 11:30?”
“In town, drinking at Barney’s.”
“You got a witness?”
“Yeah. The waitress. Tracy.”
“Tracy got a last name?” Sidney asked.
He shrugged, said nothing.
Sidney brought up the picture of the origami butterfly and held it out to him. This mean anything to you?”
“Jack shit.”
She watched his cold expression closely, looking for a sign of recognition, but got nothing. “Just one last thing. Mind if we swab you for DNA?”
“Yeah, I mind.”
“We’d like to rule you out as a suspect.”
“Get a warrant.” He spat on the ground, grabbed a bag from inside the truck and walked off toward the house. The dogs followed, wagging their tails.
Miko stood in the barn entrance, watching, showing no emotion.
〜 〜
Sidney and Granger climbed into the Yukon and sat in the driveway.
“You think Noah’s capable of killing his stepmom?” Granger asked.
“He seems hard enough to do just about anything.”
“I agree. There’s something way off about that dude.”
“Look up Derek Brent and Tom Sevinski,” Sidney said. “See if either has a record. See if there’s an address for Derek.”
Granger got busy on the computer. A few minutes later he said, “Both men are clean. No forwarding address for Derek.
She pulled out onto the highway and spotted a white SUV parked on the shoulder. “Jeff Norcross is tailing us,” she said.
“He’s like a rash.”
She pulled alongside the reporter and asked politely. “What are you doing out here, Jeff?”
“My job.”
“You’ll be briefed about the homicide as we gather facts. I don’t want to see any speculation in the paper.”
“You trying to squash my first amendment right, Chief?” He smiled but his tone was deadly serious.
“Little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“A woman’s been murdered. That’s pretty dramatic.”
“Let’s not scare the holy hell out of the public, Jeff. Stick to the facts, which will be released to you in a daily briefing.”
“My job is to snoop. Just like yours. If I uncover facts you don’t, I’m willing to share.”
An invitation for her to do the same. No way. Use diplomacy. “If you discover anything that helps my investigation, contact me immediately. Please don’t make a mad dash to print it. We want to catch a murderer, not forewarn him so he can cover his tracks.”
Jeff saluted, face drawn.
Sidney rolled up her window and pulled into the traffic lane.
“What an ass,” Granger said. “He thinks he’s on a path to a Pulitzer. How did he know we had a murder before we released the briefing this morning?”
“He uses a scanner, I’m sure. Listens in to our radio comm.”
“That legal?”
“They now have apps that turn your phone into a scanner. Hard to prove. Hard to stop.”
She glanced at him. “Use discretion.”
“Righto, gov’nor,” he said with a Cockney accent. “Me lips is sealed.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS PULLING toward three in the afternoon. Long day. Sidney rolled her taut shoulders back and forth as she drove. She needed to hit the gym, work the kinks out of her muscles. On the way back to town, she tried calling Matt Howard but got no answer. After leaving a voicemail, she called the station and Winnie updated her on messages.
“You got eleven in all, Chief. None time-sensitive. Four from your mother.”
No surprise there. Though Sidney repeatedly told her mom not to call the station, Molly dialed 9-1-1 up to ten times a day. Emergency Response transferred her over to Winnie. Winnie dealt with Molly patiently, explaining that Sidney was out keeping the peace. “Did it sound like an emergency?” Sidney asked.
“Nope. She needs toilet paper and batteries for her clock.”
“Duly noted.”
“Jeff Norcross from the Daily Buzz called twice,” Winnie continued. “He wants additional info on the murder. What should I tell him?”
“I just talked to him. He’s been tailing me. No info available at this time. I’ll update him tomorrow.”
“Aye, aye, Chief.”
“Pull everyone in for a meeting at the station at five. Order a few large pizzas from Sal’s. Veggie, meat combo, pepperoni, and Hawaiian. Grab a few slices yourself.”
“Will do. You didn’t like those anchovies last time.”
“Thanks for the memories.” Sidney wrinkled her nose, remembering the indigestion that kept her up half the night. After disconnecting, she discovered Granger was dozing next to her, his head rolling against the headrest with the movement of the car. She took pity on him, knowing when he got home tonight he’d still have ranch chores waiting. On top of that, he’d committed to stopping in at Ann’s every evening. Sidney listened to the soft drone of his snores until they reached the outskirts of downtown.
“One last interview, Granger.”
His head snapped to attention. “What, Chief?”
She chuckled. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but we have one last interview. Tracy, at Barney’s. After that, we have a task force meeting at the station, then I’ll release you crime slaves for the night.”
“Tracy, right.” He adjusted his shades and wiped a touch of drool from his mouth.
Sidney pulled into the lot at Barney’s Bar and Grill, the town’s tourist hotspot and epicenter for petty crime—drunken brawls, small time drug deals, the occasional addict needing to be scraped off the floor and carted to the ER. The lot was full, and a dozen Harleys were lined up in front, reflecting sunlight off polished chrome like sparklers.
Sidney and Granger crossed the deep, recessed porch and stood in the entryway scoping out the interior. Uninspired architecture. A cavernous box with tables scattered across a scarred, wood plank floor in front of a bandstand. Garlic, onions, and grilled meat seasoned the air. The place was doing a brisk business, every table full. Adorned in expensive leather vests and chaps, gray-haired bikers loitered at the bar, their toothpaste smiles and smooth complexions belying their badass appearance. Probably vacationing businessmen trying to recapture their youth.
Slipping into memories of her early twenties, Sidney recalled taking breaks from work in Oakland, returning home, and celebrating here with old friends—bodies writhing on the dance floor to ear-splitting rock bands with sweaty men who reeked of beer. Most of those friends were married now and had the good sense to avoid Barney’s.
A hostess rushed up to Sidney carrying plastic coated menus. Early-twenties, busty, dressed in Levi cutoffs and a tight T-shirt that provided a wandering eye a place to focus.
“Hi, I’m Cindy. Two?” She smiled, plum lipstick smeared on her front teeth.
“We’re not staying,” Sidney said. “Just want to talk to Tracy for a minute.”
Cindy cast her gaze around the cave and pointed. “That’s her over there.”
They weaved around a dozen tables to reach Tracy, who stood at the back of the restaurant facing the smoky kitchen. She wore the standard Barney’s uniform—chopped off Levi’s and sprayed-on t-shirt. She was medium height with a shapely figure and a long, dark ponytail that brushed her shoulder bla
des. She turned, carrying a steaming plate of food in each hand.
Sidney and Granger waited until she delivered the meals to two patrons before intercepting her. “Tracy?”
“Yeah?” Tracy’s smile faded as her gaze swept over their uniforms. She was mid-twenties, with skillfully applied makeup that enhanced her pretty features. Tracy bore a resemblance to someone whose face teased the corners of Sidney’s mind but wouldn’t materialize.
“We need to ask you a few questions.”
Tracy scanned the room, taking in the heads that turned to watch them. She faked a big smile, flashing perfect teeth. “I’ll take my break in five minutes and meet you out back. Please go.”
“Sure. Just one thing. What’s your last name, Tracy?”
“Matsui.”
Granger and Sidney shared a quick look as they walked out of the bar. No wonder Tracy looked familiar. She was Mimi’s daughter, and she was the spitting image of her mother.
“Mimi’s police report said Tracy lived out of town at the time of the murder,” she said. “I’ll run a background check.” They climbed into the Yukon and Sidney got to work on the laptop. “Tracy comes up squeaky clean. Moved back to town after her mother died. Wonder how she feels about her stepbrother coming home.”
“She’s going to cover for him,” Granger said tersely.
“Count on it,” she agreed dryly. “When you’ve been a cop as long as I have, Granger, you assume everyone you question is lying to you all the time, about everything.”
“Even Miko?”
“To protect his son, you bet. He knew something about the origami butterfly but pretended ignorance.”
Granger gave her an admiring glance. “You’re an ace at noticing things.”
“Comes with practice.”
Granger’s face was brooding, thoughtful, his mouth turned down at the corners. “How do you stay so calm when you’re dealing with stone-faced liars, and possibly a sadistic murderer?”
“The same way you took care of wounded soldiers in combat situations. Autopilot. You flip a switch. Build a callus.”
