Unless Harlan hadn’t told her mother why he had to leave the office, she could just imagine how agitated her mother was. Maybelle didn’t suffer fools lightly. Once she’d found her tongue this afternoon, her mother had made it obvious she didn’t have a high opinion of Chief Gerard. Sarah feared this would eliminate her mother’s ability to be civil to him. The mind games she was playing stopped with the opening of the door.
“Harlan! I’m so glad to see you.”
“Yeah. Remind me, I have to stop meeting members of your family like this.”
His words stunned her until she realized it was his attempt at humor. “We’ve got to do something. I’m afraid they think Mother murdered Mr. Knowlton.”
“My impression is the chief does.” Harlan sat next to her and put his briefcase on the table. He opened it and extracted a pen and pad. Clicking the locks shut, he placed the briefcase under the table and turned to face her. “Sarah, Chief Gerard is going to be in here in a few minutes. He may think he’s solved this case, but I’ve already talked to your mother about her two visits to Lance’s office, and I think we can poke holes in his theory.”
“But I think the murder weapon may have her fingerprints on it.”
“What are you talking about?” He made a few notes on his pad as she told him about the finial from her fence and what she’d observed Dr. Smith doing with it.
“That complicates things a bit, but I think your mother has told us the truth. I’ll just have to work a little harder on her behalf if things get that far. Do you remember when you last saw your mother with the finial?”
“Not exactly. I know, when she rummaged in her purse for her passbook, she took the finial, her phone, the passbook, and a bunch of other things out of her purse and laid them on Mr. Knowlton’s desk. I wasn’t watching which things she put back in her pocketbook before Cliff knocked her bag to the floor. Nor did I see what he picked up when he tried stuffing everything back into her purse. The finial could have been left on the floor at that point or it might have been one of the things he threw back on the desk instead of in her pocketbook.”
“Well, let’s hope the good guys, like Dr. Smith and Officer Robinson, but not you, come up with something forensic or investigative that leads to someone other than your mother.”
“Harlan, this is my mother you’re talking about. We can’t simply sit here and hope the good guys will do something. We’ve got to—”
“Do nothing except let the professionals do their jobs. In the meantime, Chief Gerard will be in here in a few minutes. Answer the exact questions he asks without elaborating. Tell the truth and your mother will be fine.”
Sarah wished she could believe him. One thing she was certain of, she wasn’t going to leave it to the good guys to make sure other leads developed. It hadn’t been that long since she’d seen what happened when she left it to the professionals. Nothing.
For the moment, though, she needed to play the game with the professional who’d just entered the room. “Chief Gerard, Harlan’s here.”
“I see. Ready to give your statement?”
She smiled at him. “Of course. Not being a law enforcement professional, this whole thing simply overwhelmed me. That’s why I knew I’d feel more comfortable with my lawyer present.”
Harlan gave a mock salute. “Present and accountable.”
“Then, let’s begin.” Chief Gerard pushed one of the two chairs on the opposite side of the table from Sarah and Harlan toward the wall and pulled himself up to the table in the remaining chair.
Harlan frowned in Sarah’s direction.
She ignored him. “Whatever you say, Chief Gerard.”
The chief put a small recorder on the table. “Unless you have an objection, we’ll tape and prepare a written transcript of your statement.”
Sarah started speaking, but Harlan firmly interjected himself into the conversation. “Sarah has no objection to her statement being taped. Of course, we request a transcript.”
Chief Gerard recited the preliminary information, including the date, time, location, and Sarah’s name. Hearing him style the statement “In the matter of Lance Knowlton,” Sarah shuddered. It was unreal—like having an out-of-body experience in which she could see him talking, but she wasn’t the one he was about to question. She reminded herself she could handle this. She’d survived after Bill left, and while she wasn’t the best receptionist and secretary in the world when Harlan hired her, she’d managed to improve and hold onto her job. She willed herself to listen and respond to Chief Gerard’s questions.
The first ones weren’t difficult. Name, birth date, address, and the reason for their meeting with Lance.
“But, I don’t understand why, if the denied loan was for your sister, your mother took you?”
“I didn’t understand it at first, either, but then I realized Mother was trying to show Lance he was neglecting or ignoring long-standing customers or customers with money.”
“And how did you fit into that? I seem to recall, like most of us, you work because you need to.”
“That’s right, but I’m the trustee of a fairly large estate and real estate owned by RahRah, my cat.”
Harlan interrupted the chief before he asked his next question. “Chief, none of that really matters. Ms. Blair wasn’t anywhere near the bank when Lance was murdered.”
“Her mother . . .”
“Found Lance, already dead. Ms. Blair has nothing to add because she wasn’t there. Anything she heard from her mother or anyone else after the fact was hearsay. Chief, we believe the best evidence to resolve much of the confusion here is the tape from the alley camera. Have you watched it, yet?”
“No. We’ve had some technical issues with the tape, but I’m sure the lab will have them straightened out soon.” He posed another question to Sarah. When Chief Gerard finally leaned back, she looked at her watch and realized almost two hours had elapsed.
She glanced at Harlan. Although his pad was covered with copious notes, he hadn’t said or objected to anything more while she’d given her statement.
“I think Sarah has covered everything. It’s been a long day. Instead of her waiting for the statement to be transcribed now, why don’t you get it typed up tonight? Tomorrow, I’ll give it a quick review before you take Maybelle’s statement. Sarah can run by and sign it at your convenience.”
When Chief Gerard grunted but didn’t say anything, Harlan continued, “You can’t deny Sarah’s statement, especially in conjunction with the other ones you took, demonstrated there were a lot of people in and out of the lobby and Lance’s office today. Any one of them could have murdered Lance, but I’d stake my law license you’ll find it wasn’t Maybelle.”
“Better be careful what you bet. Harlan, I’d hate to see you lose your livelihood.”
CHAPTER TEN
From the town square outside the police station, Sarah looked at the slit windows that began a few floors above the interrogation room she’d been in. She took a deep breath. “I swear the air out here smells fresher than it did in there. I don’t know how people tolerate being in that jail. Those windows barely let a sliver of light in. I’d be absolutely freaked out the minute they closed the door of my cell.”
“Do the crime, pay the time.”
“Harlan! How can you be so cynical?”
He shrugged and kicked an acorn off the sidewalk. “Some days it comes with the territory.”
Sarah studied him. She hadn’t noticed how dark the circles under his eyes were. “Are you okay? You don’t seem as chipper as usual.”
“Just tired.”
“You’re afraid Chief Gerard is going to railroad Mother, aren’t you?”
He rubbed his brow. “A little. It’s not something I think Dwayne is going to do intentionally, but he’s in a bad position. He spent years as the department’s number two, with no hope of promotion. Now, when circumstances finally give him a chance to grab the brass ring and become chief, the murder of one of the most beloved men
in our community stands in his way.”
“But that’s not my mother’s fault.”
“True, but every hour that passes without Dwayne announcing a killer means more people talking about the murder and considering Dwayne in a negative light. Remember, he’s filling a partial term by appointment. He’ll need to run again next year. Dwayne may not always appear to be the brightest bulb, but he’s smart enough to know if he doesn’t solve Lance’s murder quickly, he can kiss being chief on a permanent basis good-bye. Consequently, he’s getting desperate.”
What Harlan said about the chief’s motivation made sense, but it was his characterization of Lance she zeroed in on. Considering how Lance had roused her mother’s anger by his treatment of Emily and Marcus, she doubted everyone in town viewed Lance Knowlton in the same generous light. “Don’t you think beloved is a bit much?”
“Not really. Think about it. Your mother may be annoyed with Lance today, but there was a reason your parents dealt with him for all these years. It’s the same one that has so many folks up in arms about his murder. Whether at the bank or in his different roles on the city council, he made people feel he cared about them and their needs. More importantly, he repeatedly demonstrated he would go the extra mile to help them.”
Sarah crossed her arms and planted her feet on the concrete walk. It sometimes unnerved her how Harlan almost seemed able to read her mind. “He didn’t exactly go the extra mile for Emily and Marcus.”
“Lance didn’t make the decision about their loan request.” Harlan held up his hand, forefinger in the air.
Seeing this, Sarah braced herself for one of Harlan’s professorial lectures.
“Lance told you Bailey made the decision. You can bet if Lance ever looked at the file, considering the people involved, there wouldn’t have been a rejection.”
“Exactly my mother’s point. She felt Lance slacked off on his banking responsibilities because he was enjoying the benefits that came with being president of the bank and the city council.”
“Part of that might be true, but the crackdown on banking regulations, especially the hoops banks must jump through to satisfy compliance requirements, changed the game’s landscape. In the old days, which was only a few years ago, your parents would ask for a loan, and Lance, knowing them, would probably agree without a lot of formalities. Collateral and guarantees weren’t as important as a good banker’s gut-level reaction.”
“And Lance had that as a banker and a politician.”
Harlan nodded. “No question. But that’s not the case in the world of finance today. Every ‘i’ must be dotted and every ‘t’ crossed. The past leeway of decision-making for bank presidents has given way to an era of scrutiny. Lance proved himself an adaptable banker able to keep up with the times. He shifted responsibilities to loan officers, like Bailey, as a means of maintaining arm’s-length relationships. His attitude and behavior probably are more relevant to today’s banking world than your mother’s.”
“But it still seems strange he didn’t know anything about the loan request, especially when my mother said the rejection was over his signature.”
“You and I work closely in my office. Don’t you have certain letters you send out with my signature without me reviewing them because they’re standard? Appointment reminders or notices when clients are late paying their bills? And, do you think you know everything about every aspect of the cases I work on? I certainly wouldn’t ever claim that I keep up-to-the-minute tabs on what you’re doing.”
“Perhaps not.” Sarah didn’t think it would be advisable to tell him a little sneak peeking at the paperwork and notes on his desk, reading through the correspondence she typed or filed, and making entries in the firm’s business ledger gave her a better idea about most things in his office than he could possibly imagine. Some things a good secretary or receptionist needed to keep to herself.
Considering what Eloise had said about how long she’d worked for Lance Knowlton, Sarah bet Eloise knew where the skeletons were buried—the bank’s and any personal ones Lance had. She made a mental note to follow up with Eloise in the next few days to see how she was doing after today’s tragedy, especially if Chief Gerard insisted on making Sarah’s mother his main person of interest. No matter how beloved Harlan might think Lance, Sarah believed every white knight had a chink in his armor.
“Excuse me, Harlan. What did you say? I’m afraid my mind was wandering.”
“Where?”
“Where?”
“Where was your mind wandering?”
“Oh, I was simply wondering how Emily is doing with my mom.”
“Probably fine, but why don’t you call and check up on them? If everything is okay, let’s sit down on one of the benches here in the square. I’d like to talk to you privately before we join them at the office.”
Sarah studied Harlan’s face. Whatever was bothering him enough to want to talk in the open town square rather than back at his office must be serious. She couldn’t see a hint of a smile on his lips or in his eyes. Still observing him, Sarah reached into her oversized purse and rummaged around until her hand touched the protective shell encasing her phone. It felt colder than anything else in her purse. She pulled the phone out and turned it on to check her texts before she called Emily.
“I didn’t know you were an Alabama fan,” Harlan said.
“Excuse me?”
He pointed to her telephone.
Emily followed his finger and realized he was looking at the houndstooth case she’d put on her phone. “Oh, that. I didn’t think about the significance of the houndstooth pattern to Bear Bryant and the Crimson Tide when I bought the case. I wanted to protect my new phone. This was one of the cases in the five dollars or less sales bin.”
Harlan laughed.
“You better be careful. Your clients might get the impression you’re no more a sports fan than I am.” She glanced at the face of her phone and saw a highlighted text from Emily. Sarah clicked it open and read it.
“I hope you didn’t need to talk to my mother again today,” she told Harlan.
“No. I’d covered almost everything for tomorrow with her before you called me to come over to the station.”
“Good. Mother decided she’s had enough of this fun. She went home to sleep in her own bed.”
“I’m surprised Maybelle didn’t stay in Wheaton long enough to make sure everything was okay with you.”
“You don’t know my mother. She has full confidence in you.”
“That’s nice to hear, but I’m not sure I can always guarantee the result she wants.”
“Well, apparently, she thinks you can.” She glanced at her phone again. “She said to tell you she’ll be at your office at nine in case there’s anything else she wants to discuss with you.”
Harlan chuckled. “I gather that’s an exact quote?”
“Yup. Though I’m sure if there’s anything you want to interject, she might give you a few minutes.”
“I love your mother. She’s wild.”
Sarah didn’t know if she should smile or frown, which was the feeling she often had when dealing with her mother. “You might say that. Because Mom went home, Emily went to Southwind to help Marcus. She asked me to meet them there when we finished.”
“If you want, text her back. I won’t keep you long, I promise.” He sat on one of the redwood benches that dotted the town square and patted the seat next to him. “It really is a beautiful day. That’s why I thought we should take advantage of having the square almost to ourselves to talk.”
Sarah sat and looked around. She hadn’t realized how empty the square was this late in the day. Without its usual bustle, she could really take in its quaintness. Although there was no mistaking it had the planned essence of a traditional Southern small cobblestone town square framed by community services buildings and the main library, someone, in the last decade, convinced the city council to make it more inviting for people to hang out in. Benches and picnic tables, a
s well as a children’s play area near the library, had been added to the original plan. The play area consisted of intertwined metal hoops children climbed and crawled through and the pièce de résistance, a fountain set into the ground with heads randomly shooting water at different heights and angles.
Nice as the square was, Sarah knew sitting there or in a park wasn’t Harlan’s normal style. “Harlan, is there something wrong?”
“What could be wrong? With everything that’s been happening during the past few months, we’ve been so busy we haven’t taken the time to simply sit and talk.”
For wanting to talk, she noted he was quite silent, almost seemingly preoccupied by the one child playing in the fountain. She pointed at the child. “I don’t think you have to worry about him splashing us. We’re not close enough.”
“Wasn’t even thinking about that.”
Observing his focus remained on the child, Sarah waited.
When he finally spoke, he still didn’t look at her. “Sarah, now that your circumstances have changed, have you thought about your future?”
She stared at him, uncertain what he was driving at. Whenever her ex-husband, the now-dead rat, opened a conversation in this way, she’d learned it meant criticism was coming her way. But Harlan wasn’t like that.
Still, had she failed to enter a check in the ledger? Perhaps she’d missed a deadline on getting something in the mail or failed to type something he’d dictated. Maybe she’d been a little too snippy with the card-playing ladies who’d come in to see Harlan the other day without an appointment? Come to think of it, she had been a trifle exasperated by them not understanding, even if one was his aunt, they still couldn’t see him on the spur of the moment, especially when he was out of the office in court. Could his aunt have demanded he fire her? No. His aunt drove Harlan too crazy for him to give in to one of her whims. That might get her a mild reprimand, but it wouldn’t be enough for a termination.
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