Murder After Hours

by Rayna Morgan

  If so, for what purpose? Perhaps, as an excuse to leave him to marry her lover.

  She watched Henry wipe foam from his upper lip.

  If he knew about Sandra’s lover, what terrible anger burned inside him?

  She probed for answers.

  “In cases of murder, the spouse of the deceased tops the list of suspects.”

  “I understand that,” he said. “It doesn’t make things any easier.”

  “The police will remove you from their list once they’ve confirmed you weren’t angry with Sandra.”

  “What cause would they have to think I was angry with my wife?”

  “Most likely, the green-eyed monster.”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “In that case, I may have a problem.”

  Lea’s heart skipped a beat. She kept quiet, waiting for him to continue.

  “A while back, Sandra started coming home late. I figured she might be having an affair.” His jaw stiffened. “I found proof she was cheating going through her computer.”

  Lea was shocked. Paul would never read my mail or check my calendar. Or would he, feeling he had reason?

  “Perhaps you already know that.” Henry’s voice was chilling. “Did Donna tell you?”

  Unsure of his direction, she confirmed the allegation. “It came out during Donna’s emotional reaction to her friend’s death.”

  He didn’t respond, so she tried offering sympathy. “I can’t imagine the heartache of discovering your wife planned to go off with another man.”

  “His name is Nathan.” He spat out the words. “Nathan Logan. Our neighbor. My wife’s lover.”

  Lea looked away to avoid being a witness to Henry’s anguish. When she turned back, what she saw was more like wounded pride.

  “It might have hurt.” His voice was biting. “Except those two weren’t going anywhere.”

  Lea leaned forward. “How do you know?”

  “The moment I found the emails between the two of them, I stormed over to Nathan’s house.”

  His face turned an ugly shade of purple. “I wanted to kill him.”

  It’s getting easier to accept the stories about Henry’s temper.

  “Thankfully, his family wasn’t home. I don’t know if his wife found out. She'd stick her head in the sand even if she did. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. That’s how she thinks.”

  He snickered. “It’s not the way I see things.”

  “Did Nathan admit it when you confronted him?”

  “He denied it until I showed him copies of their email messages. Then, he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Apologizing. Saying it was all a terrible mistake on his part. Begging me not to tell his wife.”

  He laughed in a manner which made Lea uncomfortable. “It was pathetic. I only wished Sandra would have been there to hear him.”

  “Weren’t you happy to find out Nathan had no plans to leave his wife?”

  “Not really. I realized he was the reason my wife hadn’t left me sooner.”

  “Did you confront your wife as well?”

  “There was no point. I didn’t kid myself that Sandra would end their relationship to give us another try. Nothing I did would keep us together.”

  Should I believe him? The hot-head Donna described would have called Sandra out.

  “Surely Nathan warned her that you knew about the affair after you threatened him.”

  “I told him to keep his mouth shut. I’d talk to my wife when I was ready. In the meantime, he should stay away from her unless he wanted his family to find out.”

  “He accepted that?”

  “Believe me, he was only interested in protecting himself.”

  Henry’s wrong, Lea thought. If Nathan had feelings for Sandra, he would have warned her.

  What had Sandra done when she found out her husband was responsible for ending the affair?

  Had she blamed Henry for turning her dreams to dust, creating a scene with her angry husband which led to her own death?

  “Did Nathan take your threat seriously enough to stop seeing her?”

  “As far as I could tell. She stopped working late at the office. Next thing I knew, she got depressed. Started moping around the house. I felt a need to pull us back together with no idea how to do it.”

  “When did this happen? Did she have time to get over him? Many marriages survive an extra-marital affair.”

  “It was enough time for me to realize we had no future. Whether or not she got over him, we weren't going to stay together.”

  He dropped his head in his hands. His bitterness suddenly disappeared.

  “It turned out as I feared, in the worst possible way.”

  Henry was growing morose. Lea changed the conversation.

  “I heard your wife was upset the night of the murder.”

  “Is that something else Donna told you?” He sounded resentful. “She and my wife talked a lot.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Shorty and I work together all day. We don’t blab things about our wives to each other.”

  Was he jealous of Sandra’s friendship with Donna, or worried about what his wife told her?

  “Donna said Sandra’s upset was caused by words with Brooke Fields at the Cave.”

  Henry leaned back and stretched his arms over his head. “That wasn't unusual for those two. Sometimes, they acted like friends. Other times…”

  “What do you mean acted like friends? Were they friends or not?”

  “It depends on your definition. What they had is not my definition of friendship.”

  “What’s their history?”

  “Sandra and Brooke were best friends in school. Brooke and I were steadies. We double dated with Sandra and her boyfriend.”

  Spirit rolled onto his side. Henry leaned over to scratch the dog’s belly.

  “Sandra’s mother disapproved of the guy. He was a dropout with stringy, bleached hair who wore earrings and flip-flops, and never worked. Her mom constantly cross-examined her to find out if he smoked marijuana or popped pills.”

  He grinned. “To get her mother off her back, I’d pretend to be Sandra's date. As things turned out, I ended up falling for Sandra. When we were married, no one believed it. I was outgoing, well-liked, same personality as Brooke. We were the most popular couple in school. Everyone thought we’d be together for the long haul.”

  He sat up, shaking dog hair from his hands.

  “People didn’t understand. Sandra provided a balanced, stable side I lacked. She grounded me. Gave me direction. Kept my life organized.”

  “Was Sandra jealous of her best friend’s popularity?”

  “All through school, Brooke received more attention from the opposite sex than Sandra. From my experience, there’s nothing that ruins a friendship between girls like the attention of boys.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “When Sandra and I got together, I kept telling her she was everything I wanted and needed. She let some ridiculous sense of inadequacy drive a wedge between her and her best friend.”

  “You think she came up short when she compared herself to Brooke?”

  “That’s all I could figure out. As smart as she was, she felt inferior to Brooke’s looks and popularity.”

  He swallowed a mouthful of beer.

  “Sandra got more envious when Brooke became pregnant. She wanted a baby, too.”

  “You didn’t see that side of Sandra when you married?”

  “I probably should have. There was an incident in high school. It seemed minor at the time. I thought about it years later when I noticed how Sandra acted toward Brooke.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  “It was the summer before our senior year. The girls took jobs at a resort up north. Brooke was a waitress in the restaurant. Sandra worked in the gift shop, in spite of the fact she hated interacting with the public.

  “When Sandra became chums with another girl, Brooke resented the new friendship. Sandra explai
ned she made friends with the boss’ daughter to land a job in his office instead of dealing with tourists. Brooke didn’t believe her.

  “Later that summer, a friend and I went to visit the girls. We planned to take them out on the town. When we arrived, Brooke rushed us to some fancy restaurant for dinner. My buddy and I left the resort without saying hello to Sandra.

  “Brooke knew Sandra was hurt. Neither of them mentioned the incident. Summer ended and the girls came home. When the school year started, they acted like best friends. It didn’t hide the fact things were different.”

  Lea hoped she wouldn’t offend Henry with her next question. “Do you think Sandra’s interest in you was a means of getting back at Brooke?”

  “Sandra didn’t make moves on me, if that’s what you’re asking. All the same, she never felt guilty about Brooke when I fell for her.”

  “What was their disagreement at the wine bar?”

  “I’d rather not say. It could be damaging to Brooke.”

  For the first time since Lea had known him, Henry looked uncomfortable.

  “I should go,” he said. He pushed away from the table.

  “How about another beer?” she asked quickly.

  “I need to get back to help Shorty.”

  She picked up her wine glass. “I’m having another. I hate to drink alone.”

  He gave in. “One for the road.”

  She went to the kitchen and filled his glass, but returned without pouring more wine for herself.

  Henry took a long drink of the cold beverage. “This should stay between us.”

  Under the table, Lea crossed her fingers. “Of course.”

  “Not long after she married, Brooke started to swing.”

  Lea was unwilling to divulge her conversation with Brooke, anxious to hear Henry’s version.

  She pretended to be surprised. “She and her husband were swapping partners?”

  “I guess that’s what they call it,” Henry replied. “It’s not my scene. On one occasion, Brooke invited us to join them. Sandra wanted no part of it and called her friend unflattering names. Brooke retaliated by calling her a stuffy prude who didn’t know how to have fun.”

  “Is that what they argued about?”

  “Once Brooke saw how it pushed Sandra’s buttons, she threw it in Sandra’s face from time to time. It would have been comical watching the rise it got from my wife, except…”

  Lea listened closely. “Except what?”

  “Their exchanges turned into an ugly game of one upsmanship.My wife threw a nasty threat on the table that night.”

  “What kind of threat?”

  “She hinted about exposing Brooke’s off-air activities to the network.”

  “Was Sandra serious enough to follow through?”

  “That hardly mattered. Don’t let Brooke’s bubbly personality fool you. She’s a driven woman who won’t let anyone stand in her way. Threats to her career aren’t something Brooke takes lightly.”

  Maddy and I may have underestimated Brooke’s ambition. I need to take a closer look at her alibi.

  They heard a door slam.

  “Hi, Mom. I’m only home to change,” Jon hollered. “Tim and I are going to the park to shoot hoops.”

  Henry stood up. “I should go.”

  Lea and the dogs walked him to the door.

  “You’ll have your bid tomorrow.”

  He glanced into the living room. His eyes stopped when they landed on a painting hanging above the fireplace.

  “Are you an art lover?” Lea asked.

  “Naw.” His eyes traveled across the room. “I was admiring your big screen TV.”

  “Paul bought it when football season started.”

  “Boys and their toys, huh?” He tickled the dogs’ chins. “You guys like toys, too, don’t you?”

  The animals barked in unison. He laughed and walked out the door.

  Gracie followed Lea to her office. The dog's tail wagged.

  “You usually have impeccable instincts when it comes to sorting good guys from bad,” she told the Border collie. “In this case, I’m not sure you’re right.”

  As for me, I’m more confused than ever about the true Henry Dade.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tom stood in front of a board with three columns headed by the words victim, suspects, evidence. The rookie sat on a corner of her desk leafing through the coroner’s report.

  “What do you have, Pat?”

  “Death was instantaneous, caused by a single blow to the back of the head with a heavy, blunt object. No signs of a struggle. No bruising on her face or arms. No sexual assault.”

  “The murder weapon could have been the paperweight Donna reported missing,” Tom said. “The question is whether the stone was a weapon of convenience used by a burglar caught in the act. Or was the blow intentional, meant to be fatal?”

  The junior officer rifled through her notes. “There were no indications of forced entry, but the door wasn’t locked. Anyone could have entered. Still, with someone working in the front office, you’d think a thief would wait for a better time.”

  “Maybe Sandra was out of sight, in the kitchen or the bathroom.”

  “It doesn’t appear the perpetrator was searching for anything. There were no scattered files or open drawers. There’s a safe in Ian’s office, but it hasn't been tampered with.”

  Tom looked puzzled. “It’s an insurance office. Why does he need a safe?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I’ll make it a point to ask.” She scribbled on her pad. “Without a break-in, either the intruder knew exactly where to look—”

  “Or he’d already found what he came for.”

  “The victim.”

  “Exactly.”

  She put away her notepad and picked up the printed report. “The coroner says the killer could be either male or female since not much strength was necessary, and the murderer is probably no shorter than Sandra.”

  “She was five foot three," Tom said. “Most people are taller. That hardly narrows our suspect pool.”

  She continued reading. “There were small traces of food and alcohol in her body.”

  Tom faced the board. “Which ties in with her husband’s story they each had wine and cheese. What did you discover about the victim’s next of kin?”

  Pat walked around her desk, took a seat, and scanned her file.“Mother, deceased. Father, unknown. She grew up near Silicon Valley.”

  “You think her father works for one of the high tech businesses?”

  “Maybe. Her mother, Mary Anderson, raised her as a single parent.”

  Surprise showed on Tom's face. “The mother worked in the Valley?”

  “She worked at high tech companies, but only to clean offices. She ran a janitorial service.”

  Tom tapped his pen under Sandra’s name. “Let’s fill this in. I want more on how she lived. Her marriage, friends, colleagues. What she did and where she went. People’s opinion of her. The more we learn about the victim, the more light we shed on a potential killer.”

  He turned away from the board and looked at his junior officer. “Don’t forget to dig into her past.”

  She jotted herself a note. “Should I look for something specific?”

  “Anything that might be a motive.”

  “Any hunches yet about our killer?”

  “It’s too early. I’m keeping an open mind.” He pointed a finger at her. “You should, too. Don’t go off in the wrong direction.”

  He moved toward his office.

  “Talking about directions…”

  Tom turned back. “Something else?”

  “What do you want me to do about the burglaries we were working before a dead body was sprung on us?”

  Mention of the art thefts made the lieutenant wince. He was frustrated with their lack of progress since his interview with George and Alberta Johnson.

  “Any new leads?”

  “I interviewed the art dealers like you told me. Ther
e’s been no sign of the painting showing up.”

  “What about the fences?”

  “As you know, they’re often less than candid. According to them, nothing of value has come through the pipeline.

  “Not much chance of them telling unless they get in trouble and try to make a deal. In the meantime, interview the Johnsons again. You may pick up something we missed.”

  “May I send JJ?” Pat asked. “He likes chatting up the wealthy set.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He headed to his desk. “Tell him I need answers before those rich people he admires start calling the Chief to complain.”

  “You don’t need to worry. Mr. Johnson doesn’t seem concerned about his painting. We haven’t heard a peep from him since he reported it stolen.”

  He leaned against the door frame to consider Pat’s comment. “There could be another angle to these art thefts. Maybe this case is not about the rich, but the rich and guilty.”

  “What are you thinking, Lieutenant?”

  “Who else would benefit besides the thief?”

  Pat thought a moment before snapping her fingers. “The recipient of an insurance payoff.”

  “Find brokers who specialize in art or high priced collectibles. We need more information.”

  His phone rang.

  He listened, before issuing a command. “Hold him. We’re on our way.”

  He grabbed his sunglasses and hollered at Pat. “C’mon, let’s go. You can call JJ on the way.”

  “Where are we going, boss?”

  “Security caught someone breaking into the victim’s house.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maddy grabbed the portfolio of pictures before walking into KETV, eager to show her client the collection she assembled.

  If she buys this furniture, I'll earn a nice commission. Maybe, I’ll treat Tom to a weekend in the wine country.

  She approached the receptionist, a young girl with spiky hair and rings in her nose.

  “I have an appointment with Brooke Fields.”

  The girl stopped chewing gum long enough to point a purple fingernail at a door with a flashing light.

  “They’re on the air in a few minutes. Brooke is probably in makeup. If you miss her, go straight through to the viewer’s gallery.”

  Maddy walked down the hallway reading signs on the doors. As she walked past a room labeled Director, she heard shouting.