The Little Grave: A completely heart-stopping crime thriller (Detective Amanda Steele Book 1)

by Carolyn Arnold

  “Go on.” She didn’t want to dwell on that because it would just lead her into the darkness.

  “He confessed that he and Palmer had a business disagreement before Palmer went to jail, but things were all good now.”

  “So should we assume Palmer owed him the twenty-five grand and paid him back? Though Palmer would have had to dip into it to pay for his stay at Denver’s Motel. Freddy was okay with being short-changed?”

  “I thought of that too and asked about it. All he’d say was they were good.”

  If the money was paid back, she had to wonder what Freddy’s motive might be for killing Palmer, but there were other ways Palmer could have burned Freddy. “Short-changed, but ‘they were good.’ Hmm. Sounds to me like Freddy might have gotten something else of value from Palmer. Maybe he had him doing a job for him.”

  “All I know is Freddy said he had no reason to want Palmer dead. He asked me when the murder happened and said during that time he was shooting pool at Corner Pocket Billiards with Rat.”

  “And you questioned him too, like I asked?”

  “I did, but he didn’t set off any alarms.”

  “Okay. We’ll need to verify the alibi.”

  “Yeah, still haven’t had a chance, but it’ll be easy enough to make a call.”

  “Do that now, before I go in.”

  She looked through the one-way mirror at Freddy. Just watching him made her skin feel slimy. She was still wearing her jacket with the pills in the pocket and was doing all she could to put that out of her mind. “I’m still not entirely sure what made you drag him down here.”

  Trent huffed out a breath but didn’t say anything until he had his phone to his ear and the person on the other end had picked up. She listened as he asked about Freddy’s presence at the pool hall. “Okay, thanks.” He hung up. “He was there.”

  “Wow, so we’re here for what reason?” To say she was a little disappointed in Trent’s rash decision to drag Freddy in would have been an understatement.

  “I hadn’t… hadn’t expected the alibi to stand.” His cheeks flushed but he met her gaze. “What’s the deal with you and this Freddy guy anyway?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He obviously gets under your skin. I figure you must have a history there.”

  “What are you suggesting? That he’s my drug dealer on speed dial?”

  “I never said any such thing, nor would I suggest—”

  “Good.”

  Trent kept his gaze on her, and she regretted making any deal about Freddy. From the second his name had come up she would have been better off pretending to know nothing about him. But her emotions had become involved and dissolved her logic.

  “There’s something else that’s missing here, besides the money and the bracelet. Palmer’s car. Did you ask Freddy anything about it?”

  “Yeah, he claimed not to have a clue where Palmer obtained it or how.”

  “Huh. I see.” She thought about what Courtney had told them about Freddy’s arrangement with Palmer and Webb and wondered if the business he’d referred to was robbery and subsequent fencing of the stolen goods, but it wasn’t like Palmer still had a pawnshop or legit business front to make him valuable to Freddy. However, if Palmer had been forced to hand over the rest of the twenty-five K to Freddy, that would have left him with zilch to live on. Maybe Palmer was going to become a part of Freddy’s team and start stealing. She’d press Freddy on that when she got in there. But if Palmer had stolen from the wrong person or made off with goods he was supposed to liquify, that could spell motive for murder. But that wouldn’t gel with the MO. That type of motivation would likely lead to a bullet to the head.

  In the interrogation room, Freddy got up and took off his coat. He set it on the back of the chair, but it was what she saw on his wrist that had her on the move.

  “Amanda?” Trent called out to her. “Wait. Should we talk a bit more before you go in there? His alibi did check out.”

  She stopped and spun around. “Freddy could have that billiard hall in his pocket, but—look at his right wrist.” She watched him follow her direction.

  “A silver bracelet,” he said.

  “Did you ask him about that?”

  “Never saw it.”

  “Uh-huh, and what do you bet the chances are that used to be Palmer’s?”

  “Okay, but—”

  “No, I’m going in there and you’re going to dig up whatever else you can on Freddy. I want to know all his movements from the time that Palmer got out of prison. And did he or any of his pals ever visit Palmer in prison? Did you ask him about Casey-Anne Ritter?”

  “I did, and he claimed not to have heard of her.”

  “Not surprising. Go—look at Freddy’s activities.”

  “Where should I start?” Trent’s cheeks were burning crimson.

  “We assume that the Caprice might have been taken by the killer—”

  “We do?”

  She realized she’d been so flustered by Freddy’s presence that she hadn’t filled Trent in on her trip to Happy Time. She did that quickly now.

  “So do you think Freddy or one of his cohorts could have done that, killed Palmer, taken off in the car after?” Trent said, brainstorming out loud.

  “If that’s the case, something went wrong during their business arrangement.” She put finger quotes around business arrangement. “Do a search for all of Prince William County for any robberies or break-ins since Palmer was released on Friday afternoon.”

  Trent was still standing there, but she needed him to leave. When she went in to talk to Freddy, she needed to be alone with him.

  “Go. Do that while I’m in there.” She flicked a hand toward the interview room.

  “Okay. On it.”

  Trent left and she took a deep breath.

  She made sure that whatever conversation she had in there with Freddy wouldn’t be recorded and headed next door.

  Twenty-Three

  Amanda opened the door to the interrogation room, and Freddy grinned wide.

  “Civic six four six. How lucky I am to see you.” He slouched in his chair and draped an arm over the back. “What can I do for you today? Back for more?” He bobbed his eyebrows at her.

  Inside she was quaking. She’d rushed in here on impulse, without really thinking things through. She pointed to the silver bracelet on Freddy’s wrist. “Nice bling. Why don’t you tell me about that?”

  “Not feeling too chatty, but I could start talking if you don’t get me outta here.”

  Shadows danced across his features. For her own good, she should cut him loose, but she had her damn word to keep.

  “I’m pretty sure you know what I’d be saying.”

  “You’re not going to intimidate me, Hank.”

  “Oh yeah. All I need to do is have a little talk with your boss.”

  “Really? And why the hell would he believe you over me?” She was shaking but doing her best so Freddy wouldn’t see through her. She’d seen careers destroyed by rumor.

  “Whatever.”

  “Now that’s out of the way…” She leaned forward and placed both elbows on the table. “Your friend, Chad Palmer.”

  “Whoa, hold up. No one said the guy’s my friend.”

  “Well, you were in business with him,” she volleyed back. “That’s what Detective Stenson told me you said. Was he wrong?”

  “Sure, fine. But he wasn’t my friend.”

  “You and your crew would steal stuff and fence it through his pawnshop,” she said, matter-of-fact.

  Freddy’s gaze flicked to hers.

  She smirked. “You’re not denying it so we’re off to a good start.”

  He snarled and for an instant she feared for Courtney’s safety.

  “Then maybe you don’t need to tell me anything. I have ways of finding things out. Just like how I’m going to find out what the deal was between you and Chad on Sunday and where his car went.”

  Freddy swallowed rou
ghly and rubbed his throat.

  Amanda was following a feeling in her gut. “The fact the car’s missing mean something to you?”

  “Ah, nah.” Freddy traced a fingertip on the table, his fidgety movements belying his verbal claim.

  His body language was sending off strong signals that his ass was on the line with the car gone. But why and did it have anything to do with Palmer’s murder? Was Freddy a killer as well as a drug dealer and thief? She was failing to see clear motive, but Freddy had a connection to Webb, and he was one of the last people to see Palmer alive. She’d strive to fill in more of Palmer’s last hours.

  “After you and Chad left Denver’s Motel, where did you go?”

  “I went to shoot pool with Rat. I don’t know what he did.”

  She couldn’t just sit there and let him steer the direction of this interview, no matter how uncomfortable and compromised she felt by his presence. It was time to claim her power. “You know that I can hold you for twenty-four hours without laying charges. Can you imagine what your crew might think you’re doing with the cops for that long?” She hitched her shoulders. “Then again, that’s not my problem.”

  “You better watch your back, cop bitch!”

  She launched her upper body across the table and was in his face in a second, her nose mere inches from his. “Try me. Call me cop bitch one more time,” she snarled and it took all her willpower not to grab him by the scruff of his neck, but it was the reflection in his eyes that had her shrinking inside. It was an image of herself she didn’t like.

  She dropped back into her chair. “Listen, you and I have a lot of talking to do and until I say we’re done—”

  “I’ll just lawyer up.”

  “Nah, I don’t think you’ll do that.”

  “No? And why not?”

  “Because something was in that Caprice Chad had and you need it back. Why draw attention to that?”

  Freddy rubbed his jaw, the bracelet dangling from his wrist. “I ain’t never said I need that dumb car.”

  “But your body language did. What’s in the car, Freddy?”

  “Nope. Not talking.”

  “Fine, then you’re spending the night. I’ll make sure the word spreads on the street you’re giving up your guys.”

  He bunched up his face in an ugly, massive scowl.

  “Nuh-uh.” She wagged her finger. “Don’t say what you’re thinking.” The words “cop bitch” were rolling in his eyes like ticker tape.

  He spat on the floor like he was some sort of mad camel.

  “Okay, you don’t want to talk about the car, that’s fine. We’ll find it ourselves and figure out what’s so special about it. Tell me where Chad got the car.”

  Freddy slouched in his chair. “How would I know?”

  “Quite sure you’re the one who hooked him up with it.” She was just following a gut feeling but wanted to see it through. “Maybe you’re indebted to that person and they’re not going to be too happy to hear it’s missing.”

  “Not talking.” He crossed his arms.

  It was interesting how Freddy thought by keeping his mouth shut he wasn’t communicating, because she was picking up the words not being said out loud. His body language was shut to this topic, which told her he had been involved with getting Chad the car and was trying to protect whomever he’d gotten it from and himself from them. Given the age of the vehicle, she’d wager that it wasn’t stolen but rather obtained from another lowlife who ran in Freddy’s world.

  Her gaze dipped to the bracelet, but she had another question to ask before she returned to the jewelry on his arm. “Did you go to the Happy Time bar last night, say around ten?”

  “No, man, I was with my guys at the pool hall until early morning. I told the pretend cop all that. And I’m pretty sure you knew where I was around four…”

  She cringed at the reminder, but she wasn’t going to let it derail her. “That ‘pretend cop’ dragged your ass down here, and I assure you he also has the authority to lock it up.” The words were out before she processed them; she’d just defended Trent?

  “Whatever.”

  “Fine, you don’t want to tell me. We’re going to get their video and when we see your face on there—”

  “I wasn’t at that crappy bar. I have nothing to hide.”

  She set her mouth in a straight line and angled her head. “I think we both know that’s taking things a little too far.”

  “If one of us has something to hide… You should be afraid of me,” he hissed.

  She refused to let him steer the conversation. “Listen, I’ve got a dead body and it’s my job to find out what happened.”

  “Yeah, your job, not mine.”

  “Jackson Webb,” she tossed out.

  “Who?” He scrunched up his face.

  “Chad’s former business partner.”

  “Okay,” he dragged out.

  “He was murdered five and a half years ago. Did you kill him?”

  “What?” he spat. “No, why would I?”

  “Chad owed you a lot of cash,” she said, running on the assumption the large sum Palmer’d had was, in fact, to pay off Freddy. “You could have come after Jackson for it.”

  “No, I didn’t. Not how I operate.”

  “Sure about that?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  There’d be no point in asking him where he was the night of Jackson’s murder as he’d probably counter with how could he remember as it had been five and a half years ago. She made a mental note to see if Freddy had ever been questioned about the murder, but if Courtney hadn’t opened up to the police, as she’d told Amanda and Trent, the investigation probably never took them to his door. “What about Casey-Anne Ritter?”

  “The little detective asked about her. I don’t know who she is.”

  “She was murdered a few days before Jackson.”

  “I’d send flowers, but…” He laughed and the expression of mirth chilled her; it was understandable why people feared him. But some bullies got off more on psychological games than inflicting physical brutality.

  She nodded toward his wrist. “Where did you get that?” She may have been reaching here, as this particular bracelet might not have anything to do with Palmer. Then again it could be the connection between Webb, Palmer, and Ritter. Webb had visited Palmer not long after he’d gone to jail. She and Trent had assumed it was about the money, but what if it wasn’t? What if it had something to do with—

  “This? Take it.” He tossed the bracelet across the table. “Damn thing’s giving me a rash anyway.”

  She examined it where it came to rest on the table. She wouldn’t be touching it without gloves. “Did Chad give it to you?”

  Freddy’s jaw was clenched, and he was looking at the table. She’d take his silence as a yes.

  Maybe it wasn’t silver but rather a worthless imitation? Some people were allergic to fake jewelry; some were allergic to the real thing.

  “Hey.” Freddy snapped his fingers. “Can I go now?”

  She got up from the table, weighing the options. Freddy could have been involved in Palmer’s murder and the two cold cases, but she didn’t have the evidence to support that and he did have an alibi. Sure, he’d been involved with Palmer and up to something illegal, but until she could figure out what and get the proof to back up her hunch, it was in her best interests to let him go. She slipped her hands into her jacket pocket. “You can go. For now. But stay close.”

  Freddy jumped up and beelined for the door, but he stopped before letting himself out. “I’d just watch your back if I were you.” He smirked and let himself out.

  She could charge him for threatening an officer, but going that route could mess up her life, and he knew it, the smug son of a bitch. Now, to get her hands on a pair of gloves to transport this bracelet…

  Twenty-Four

  Amanda carted the bracelet back to her desk in the palm of a gloved hand, holding it like a piece of valuable china, and dropped into he
r chair.

  “You really think that was Palmer’s bracelet?” Trent eyed her skeptically from the doorway of her cubicle.

  “We talked about Casey-Anne being connected to Webb through the pawnshop,” she started.

  “We speculated she might have turned something in for cash, but that doesn’t look like much.” He gestured to the bracelet.

  She looked down at the bracelet in her hand, her mind spinning. Trent was right that it didn’t look like much, but she’d wager, based on its weight, that it was real silver. But how did the bracelet factor into Palmer’s murder—if it did at all? And was his murder actually linked to the Ritter and Webb cold cases? They had been shot, while Palmer had been force-fed alcohol. The MO couldn’t be more different. But she couldn’t ignore the connection that Freddy had with Palmer and Webb. Ritter was the piece that didn’t quite fit.

  “Amanda?” Trent prompted.

  “Yeah, I was just thinking about everything, whether maybe we’re making a leap to think the three murders—Ritter, Webb, and Palmer—are linked.” That’s what she said, but there was a niggling in her gut that didn’t find the possibility too far-fetched.

  She looked up from the bracelet and met Trent’s gaze. “Freddy handed this over rather easily, so we can assume it means nothing to him. Heck, we don’t even know if it really means anything, period. But the car… it was a definite connection between Freddy and Palmer on the day he was murdered, and I’m confident Freddy’s hiding something about it. I think he’s on the hook with it missing. How that factors into Palmer’s murder though… I don’t know yet if it does.”

  “Well, you had me look up recent robberies.” He walked back to his desk.

  “I’m well aware.”

  “There was a home invasion at the Stewarts’ residence in Woodbridge last week. Jewelry was stolen, with a combined value of over fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Fifty, as in five-o?” She wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly.

  “Yep.”

  “So if the car was taken by Palmer’s killer and maybe the stolen items along with it… That could explain why Freddy’s upset that it’s missing.”