Death Comes to Main Street (The Paul Monroe Mysteries Book 3)

by Felice Stevens

He took another hit of the blunt with shaky fingers. “He was talking shit about the big score he made at the pawnshop and wanted to celebrate.”

  “Oh, yeah? A big score?”

  “Yeah.”

  Rob leaned forward with wide, concerned eyes. “I hope he gave you your cut and didn’t try and cheat you. I mean, if he’s in jail, he’ll say anything to get himself out. You know how that goes.”

  Rob truly was the master at this.

  Now that Rob had planted the seed, Travis sat mumbling to himself while Paul waited to hear if Travis would slip up. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “That motherfucker. I don’t know. I bet he cheated me. Him ’n Wellie always whispering and shit.” By now he was enraged and stomping around the living room. “That little shit. I ain’t gonna take the blame for something I didn’t do.”

  “So are you saying Bear did it?”

  Travis’s red-rimmed eyes met Paul’s and narrowed to slits. “You’re trying to get me to slip up, ain’tcha? Well, it ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Slip up about what, Travis?”

  The man opened his mouth, then frowned. “Nuthin’.”

  “How about we go to the station for a little questioning?”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  Paul widened his eyes. “Should you be?”

  “I said I didn’t do nuthin’.” Travis thrust out his jaw.

  “Then you should be okay.”

  “Paul, come on. Stop trying to push him.” Rob rolled his eyes. “Trav is just tryin’ to help us.” He nudged Travis. “He’s such a Debbie Downer, right?”

  “Dude, I don’t know how you do it.” Travis finished off a second beer.

  “Sometimes I gotta go home and do a few shots, not gonna lie.” Rob gave Travis a conspiratorial wink.

  The two yucked it up while Paul waited for Travis to fall for Rob’s bullshit.

  Rob pulled out his phone. “Damn. Paul, we have to go to the station. Looks like Bear wants to talk.” He leaned over to Travis. “I hope he doesn’t try and nail you for whatever it is he did.”

  “What?” Travis’s words were becoming more slurred. “No fuckin’ way. I’ll tell you. Not him.” He jerked his head at Paul.

  “How about we go to the station, and you can tell me everything about Bear.” Rob slipped his phone into his pocket. “We can send him out for coffee.” He pointed at Paul, and by his grin, Paul thought Rob was enjoying his role as good cop way too much.

  “Okay, but we gotta take your car.”

  “Sure, Trav.” Rob walked out with Travis, leaving Paul to dog their footsteps. “Where’s your truck?”

  “Flat tire.”

  Paul wondered why but said nothing as Rob deposited Travis in the back seat. They buckled their seat belts, and Paul drove as fast as he dared to the station, hoping Travis wouldn’t fall asleep and wake up at the police station, only to forget where he was and refuse to talk to them.

  Rob kept Travis talking, however, letting him ramble on about his shit, so that didn’t happen, and they got Travis comfortably settled in one of the interrogation rooms with coffee and a doughnut Rob magically made appear.

  “See you in a minute, Trav. Enjoy the coffee and doughnut.”

  “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t we? I think you’re enjoying this,” Paul whispered in Rob’s ear after he shut the door behind them.

  Rob’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t be jealous, Paulie. You know I love you best.” His face sobered. “I think we’re on to something, though. What do you think?”

  “Definitely.” He rubbed his chin. “I think we should go talk to Bear now. He’s been stewing long enough and might be more anxious to talk.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  They sauntered over to the holding cell, where Bear lay on his bed.

  “Evening, Bear.”

  “When am I getting outta here? I didn’t do nuthin’.”

  “That’s not what we were told.” Paul examined his cuticles. “Somebody said you know a lot.”

  Bear’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Who’s talkin’ shit about me?”

  “I don’t like holding conversations in the hallway. Do you want a lawyer, or to talk to us now?”

  Paul could see the tug-of-war playing out over Bear’s face, but he and Rob remained impassive, knowing they couldn’t sway Bear, or his responses would be tossed out as coerced.

  “I ain’t gonna let someone rat me out and take all the blame.”

  Inwardly cheering, Paul unlocked the cell and led Bear to the interrogation rooms, slowing as they passed where Travis sat. Paul wanted to make sure Bear knew who was waiting inside.

  “Rob. Tell Trav we’ll be there in a few and to enjoy the doughnut.”

  Bear whipped his head around. “Travis? He’s the snitch? I shoulda known.” Bear continued to rage, and Paul led him inside another room and had him sit and seethe until Rob rejoined him.

  “Now.” He gave Bear a semblance of a smile. “You’re willing to talk to us?”

  “Yeah. That fucker was there. It wasn’t only me.”

  “Meaning?” Paul asked.

  “The liquor store. I wasn’t the only one there. I told you. Travis was there, and he tried—”

  It wasn’t what Paul wanted to hear. “We know, we know. What about the jewelry-store break-in and the others on Main Street—the clothing and electronics store.”

  “What about them?”

  Paul made a big show of flipping through his pad, as if reading notes. “According to Trav…hold on. Let me find it. He had a lot to say. Here.” He trailed his finger along the blank page, pretending to read, allowing Bear to become more and more agitated. “Trav put the blame for the robberies on you.”

  Sweat beaded on his shiny forehead. “Wh-what?” He wet his lips. “You’re lyin’.”

  “No. Travis said you were the one who did the robberies.”

  Bear slammed his hand on the desk. “No way. He’d never say that.”

  “Why? Because it’s not true, or because you can’t believe he’d rat you out?”

  Bear remained silent.

  Paul closed his memo book and tossed it on the table. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell us. Travis will, and he’ll get a nice plea deal, probably no jail time, while you’ll sit and rot inside a state prison.” He stood. “Let’s go, Rob. I’m hungry and I want dinner.”

  They were at the door before Bear said anything. “Wait.”

  They waited, and Paul’s heart jumped. The thrill of being so close to the finish rushed through him. But when a minute passed and Bear still said nothing, Rob opened the door. Unlike Travis, Bear wasn’t drunk or high, and he wasn’t as gullible.

  “We was all in it together,” Bear mumbled.

  Paul exhaled a whoosh of breath, and he and Rob shot each other quick, triumphant looks.

  “All? Who do you mean?”

  The struggle to remain silent versus revealing it all was patently obvious from how Bear’s face screwed up and his hands clenched and unclenched into fists on top of the table. “Wellie said it would be easy. We’d go in, grab the stuff, then go sell it and split the cash.”

  “Travis said you and Wellie were the ones who went inside.”

  “He did, huh?” A deep flush reddened Bear’s face. “Wellie scoped them out and said they were easy marks. Travis drove his truck. Wasn’t my idea. It was Wellie’s.”

  “Mmhm. So tell us what happened.”

  “Don’t you know?” Bear snapped.

  Not a pushover like Travis, Paul thought.

  “Yeah, we do.” It had reached the breaking point for Paul. He’d had enough, and he stuck his face into Bear’s. Time to lay it on the line, throw the shit out there and see what stuck. “You were all part of it. You robbed the smaller stores in preparation for the bigger hit on the jewelry store.” And Paul went for the hundred-yard Hail Mary pass with a second left on the clock. “And when you scored on that, you took your hatred even f
urther, took it out against people different than you at the Wild Orchid and started that fire. Didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

  But Bear didn’t take the bait. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ without a lawyer.”

  “Oh, I think you do. But don’t worry. We have enough to keep you behind bars for a nice long stay. You’ll have plenty of time to think about whether you want to talk or not.” He and Rob didn’t stop and wait for Bear to gather his thoughts. They left him and congregated in front of the interrogation room where Travis still sat.

  “Well, that didn’t work out as I’d hoped,” Paul said grimly.

  “Yeah, but he knows we’re on to them. And we have enough to bring in Wellie.”

  “Who’s going to be a tougher nut to crack. I must’ve been crazy to think it would all come together so neat and easy just because I wanted it to.” He tipped his head toward the room. “Let’s go talk to your new best friend.”

  “Ha-ha.” Rob slapped him on the back. “You’re cute, Paulie, but you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  They breezed into the room, and Travis jerked awake. “Wha—? What’s goin’ on?”

  Rob knocked on the desk. “Ding-dong, wake up, Travis.”

  The man scrubbed his unshaven face. “I’m awake.”

  “So.” Rob slid into the seat across from him. “Your good buddy Bear said you were as involved with the break-ins and burglaries at all the stores on Main Street as he and Wellie were. What do you have to say?”

  “The fuck.”

  His beady eyes darted back and forth, and Paul took a chance and went for another Hail Mary pass. “He also said you were involved with the fire at the Wild Orchid.” Not a total lie, but certainly not the proper context. Thank God the police were allowed to lie during interrogations. Paul had never liked that tactic, but sometimes you had to do it.

  “What? The fuck. No fucking way. I’ll kill him, that lying piece of shit.” Travis jumped out of his seat, knocking his chair to the floor. “Where is he?” He lunged for the door, but Paul and Rob flew out from behind the table. Paul grabbed Travis’s collar, and Rob wrenched his arm behind him.

  “You’re under arrest, Travis Falk, for the burglaries of Today’s Man, Game On, and Twenty-Four Karat.” As Travis ranted and raged, Rob continued to read the man his Miranda rights. “If you can’t afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. If you wish to answer any questions without an attorney present, you may stop answering at any time and request an attorney. Do you understand these rights?”

  The handcuffs locked with a loud, satisfying click around Travis’s wrists.

  “Well, Travis?” Paul leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “What do you say? You want to talk to us?”

  “Go fuck yourselves.” Travis spit on the floor by their feet.

  “Aw, Trav.” Rob shook his head. “What’d you go do that for?”

  “You want a lawyer, Travis?”

  “I don’t need no lawyer. I didn’t do nothin’. You forced me to say all that shit.”

  Rob looked at him. “I don’t remember forcing you. Do you, Paul?”

  “No, Rob. You were nice. Too nice. So you want a lawyer, Travis?”

  “Yeah. I want a lawyer. I ain’t got nuthin’ to say no more.”

  Dammit.

  “Let’s go.” Paul took him by the arm and led him, protesting all the way, to the holding cell. They left him sitting on the narrow bed, yelling his innocence, and returned to the almost empty station. Paul wrote up his notes, while Rob contacted Legal Aid to notify them they had a prisoner who needed a lawyer.

  “Damn. It’s almost seven thirty.” Rob saved his notes and closed his computer. “I hope Annabel saved me dinner.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Paul stretched and picked his jacket off his chair. “Live off the fat of the land.” He smirked, and Rob gave him a pained smile.

  “Funny. Ready to hit the road?”

  “Yeah. I bet Cliff is wondering what the hell happened.”

  He and Rob separated in the parking lot, and Paul drove off, growing more and more anxious to see Cliff as the miles sped by.

  The glow of the lamplights behind the drawn curtains greeted him and brought a smile to his face. He unlocked the front door and sniffed appreciatively.

  “Hey.” Cliff sat at the island with a glass of wine and a plate of brownies. “Long night?”

  Paul shed his jacket and entered the kitchen, leaning over to kiss Cliff. “Yeah. Fun times.”

  “I made chicken for dinner if you want.”

  “I want. Be right back.”

  “Okay. I’ll heat it up for you.”

  He undressed quickly, locked up his gun, and put on his sweats. Cliff was just taking his plate out of the microwave when he rejoined him in the kitchen. He accepted the plate and sat at the counter, a cold bottle of beer at his elbow.

  “Thanks. Smells good.”

  As he finished his plate, he noticed Cliff staring at him with a troubled expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have something to say that will make you angry.” Cliff sipped his wine. “But I wanted you to eat first because you’ve had a long day.”

  Paul set his utensils down. “Okay, well, I’m finished.”

  “Let’s go to the living room.”

  Perplexed about what could be bothering Cliff so deeply, Paul picked up his beer bottle and followed him, taking a seat on the couch.

  “What is it? You look upset.”

  “Well, yeah. I am. Ryan was over this afternoon—”

  “Yeah, I saw him when Rob and I came to Travis’s.”

  “Right. Anyway, Travis made some comments to Ryan and me that led me to believe he’s been peeping in our windows.”

  “What?” He slammed the beer bottle on the coffee table. “What the hell’re you talking about?”

  “He said we should be careful about pulling down the shades because you never know who might be looking. I swear, it gave me the creeps to think he might be staring in the windows when we have sex. But that’s not even the worst.”

  “Are you kidding?” What could be more awful than having your privacy violated like that? God, he couldn’t wait to get back to the station tomorrow to question the prick. “What else?”

  “When I was in our bedroom getting changed, I noticed a black box, like a surveillance camera. I think Travis put a camera in to spy on us.”

  Relief filled Paul’s chest. “Oh, that? Don’t worry about it. That’s not Travis. I had that done.”

  Instead of brushing it off, Cliff stared at him. “You? You put surveillance cameras in my house without telling me? Why would you do that?”

  “After the notes on my car, I became concerned. I figured it would be good to have a security system put in so we could have a video of whoever passed in front of the house, in case anything ever happened again. And after the window was shot out, I called and had security cameras put in. They even rushed it because they knew I worked for the PD.” He waited for Cliff to praise him for his ingenuity.

  Cliff blinked. “Are there any other cameras besides the one by the bedroom window?”

  “Yeah. On top of the front porch.”

  Cliff’s jaw hung open. “On top of the porch,” he repeated. “Two places. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” His eyes narrowed.

  “What’s wrong? I did it to protect you when I’m not here and to see if we can catch whoever’s been putting notes on my car.”

  “You honestly don’t see what you did was wrong?” By this time Cliff, who rarely raised his voice, was furious. “I gotta get out of here. I’m so angry right now, I can’t be in the same room with you.” And before Paul had a chance to answer, Cliff stormed away and slammed out the back door, leaving Paul stunned.

  What the hell just happened?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The night air smelled faintly metallic, signaling an impending rainstorm. At the moment, Cliff would prefer to get soa
ked to the skin rather than go inside and talk to Paul. Breathing deeply, he paced on the grass to cool off, but his anger remained hot.

  How could Paul have done that? Why did he think he had the right to make a decision involving his home without consulting him first? And the comment about doing it to protect him? Again? That fired his anger up even brighter.

  For the first time, he wished he was alone.

  He sat on the deck steps and stared unseeing out into the trees lining his property. The solid outlines of the mountains loomed in front of him, and he closed his eyes, listening to the quiet rustling of night creatures.

  The door creaked, and he opened his eyes but didn’t turn around. Light spilled out over the deck.

  “Can I join you?”

  If things weren’t strained, he’d move over and make room for Paul to sit next to him. As it was, he focused on the dark outline of the trees and lifted a shoulder. “If you want.”

  One of the chairs from the new deck set they’d bought together squeaked as Paul lowered his weight onto it.

  “Nice night.”

  “Mmm.”

  “If the weather holds this weekend, maybe we can have that barbecue we’ve been planning.”

  Enough with the small talk. “Are you serious? That’s the last thing on my mind.”

  “Then tell me what is. You walked away without saying anything.”

  “Trust me,” Cliff said. “It’s better that I did.”

  “I’m gathering I did something wrong?”

  Infuriated over Paul’s obliviousness, Cliff rounded on him. “Are you kidding? You don’t see the problem with what you did?”

  Bewilderment didn’t begin to describe the expression on Paul’s face. “I’m assuming it’s because of the cameras, but I’m still not sure why.”

  “You’re not sure…really? The fact that you went ahead without talking to me about putting a security system in my house boggles my mind. Now you’re arguing and trying to act like what you did was for me. If I wanted one, I’d get one. It’s my house, Paul. Don’t you think I should have a say about it?” He blew out a frustrated breath. “And then there’s that you-did-this-to-protect-me shit. News flash, Paul. Until we moved in together, I’ve lived all my life without you and done just fine. I don’t need protecting. I’m not a damsel in distress. We had this talk before, and I thought it was settled, but this…this makes me reconsider that things will ever change.”