The One Who Watches

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The One Who Watches Page 6

by Emerald O'Brien


  “Derek, we’re here because Tyler Gibbons died last night.” Grace walked further into the room. “You don’t have to talk to us; you asked for a lawyer, but that’s why we’re here.”

  He licked his lips and frowned, his gaze falling slowly to the ground. “He’s dead?”

  “Yes.” Grace paused, waiting to see if he spoke.

  “Last night…” Derek muttered. “I was here all night. I never went anywhere near him.”

  “Was anyone with you?” she asked.

  He turned to Mac and looked back at her, walking to the door. “I need you to leave.”

  They followed him to the door. “Derek, you’ve been cooperative with us thus far. We have a few more questions for you, and if you’d prefer to answer them with a lawyer, that’s fine, but we’ll need those answers, one way or another.”

  Derek nodded. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

  They walked through the door, and he closed it behind them. Mac stopped at the elevator, and Grace pressed the button.

  “I don’t think he has an alibi,” she whispered. “But he might not need one for the time of death. If the brakes were cut ahead of time, he could have easily walked a few blocks and done it or had someone else do it for him.”

  “He’s got the motive,” Mac said, staring up at the numbers above the elevator door.

  “Did he seem jealous to you, too?” she whispered.

  Mac shrugged.

  “He seems upset that by his and Joel’s accounts, he put in so much hard work, and Tyler coasted by in his eyes, unethically at that, while ruling the school in his words—and now they’re rich and successful while he’s stuck in there, hiring lawyers from his tiny, windowless office that he seems to basically live in. He does the work; they get the glory.”

  “I guess you could say he’s jealous, then,” Mac said.

  Grace pressed the button again. “I’m stopping for a coffee before we hit the highway.”

  I’m exhausted, hungry, and dirty. But it’s good to be back on a case.

  She led Mac to the front desk. “Detective Sheppard. I’m wondering if you can tell me whether Derek Mann left the building at all since yesterday?”

  The man behind the desk looked up to the right. “I don’t think so.”

  “Is there another exit in the building?”

  “Yes, but he’d have passed by the elevators, and I’d have seen.”

  “Do you have cameras in the building? For this lobby?”

  “We do.”

  “Could you send what you have from yesterday to this morning to the Tall Pines P.D? This email address please.” She handed him a card, and he nodded again. “Thank you.”

  Mac held the door for her on the way out. “Even if he never left, he could have hired someone.”

  “I know. One step at a time.”

  “And what’s the next step?”

  “Finding out more about our persons of interest.”

  Eight

  After leaving The Big Spoon, Madigan called the movie theatre and asked how long the current owner had been there. The woman on the phone told her it was owned by the same family, passed down each generation, and the current owner would be in that day if she wanted to meet with him.

  Madigan waited in the lobby, salivating at the smell of popcorn.

  A woman approached her. “Madigan Knox?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Mr. Spiegel sent me for you. Follow me, please.”

  She followed her down a hallway with dark maroon carpet, past some theaters, toward a door at the end of a hall. They climbed a flight of stairs, and the woman knocked on the first door on the left.

  “Come in!” a man called.

  The woman left the way she came as Madigan opened the door.

  A large man in khakis and a t-shirt sat behind a deep mahogany desk, set off against the carpet.

  “Madigan, hi, come in. You can close the door behind you. Come have a seat.”

  She closed the door and sat in an intricately carved wooden chair, resting her bag in her lap. “Thanks for seeing me.”

  He leaned inward over his desk with a curious look. “What’s this about?”

  “This is going to sound strange, and you might not have even been working here at the time, but my mother—my biological mother—used to work here. I think she was a bit younger than me—”

  “Julia.” The man sat up and leaned in close. “You’re Julia’s daughter.”

  She held still, waiting for a similar reaction to the ones she’d gotten from every other person she’d asked about her.

  “I am, and I’m looking for her. Did you guess because we look alike?”

  He smirked. “I can’t believe it.”

  His eyes glossed over as he stared past her. She turned over her shoulder to a framed portrait of a thin man with white hair, standing in front of the movie theatre in a suit with a smile similar to the man behind the desk. She turned around, and the man cleared his throat. “My dad would’ve loved to be here for this.”

  “He owned this theatre, right? I was told Julia thought of him as a father.”

  The man chuckled. “And he felt like he had a daughter. You know, if she’d hadn’t disappeared, you might have met her here instead of me.”

  Madigan frowned.

  “My dad, Wally, he favoured Julia over even me, and I’m his only son. We had a pretty good relationship, but nothing compared to Julia. I admit, I was pretty jealous back then of the attention she got. If it were between her and me, Dad would have left this place to her. It broke his heart when she stopped coming around, and he couldn’t get in touch with her.”

  “Did you know she had a daughter?”

  He shook his head. “Dad might’ve, though. So you’re looking for her? Has she disappeared on you, too?”

  Madigan smiled at the affection in his tone. “You might say that. She signed custody of me over to my grandma before I was one.”

  He pressed his lips together and leaned back in the chair. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’ve never known her, and I’m trying to find her. The last I’ve heard of her so far is when she hired a lawyer and tried to get custody of me again when I was eleven. That was just over twenty years ago.”

  He tapped the arm of his chair, considering what she’d said.

  “I heard she worked here, was close to the owner, and I thought maybe I’d get a clue. A direction to go in. Something.”

  “Julia’s mother was her only family, aside from you, yes?”

  Madigan nodded.

  “The last time I saw Julia was when she was still working here, but my dad saw her even after she’d disappeared for a while. She’d do that sometimes. Later, after she wasn’t working here anymore for about a year, she contacted him.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I always suspected it was money. So did my mom, but Dad insisted she didn’t need money—that her house was paid for, and she had another job. Didn’t say where, though. All he said about that last time was how great it was to see her,” he stared off at the picture of his dad, “and how she promised she’d visit more often. Classic Julia. He died a few years ago, complications from cancer, and I have a feeling he was hoping he’d get to see her again one last time. I don’t know if anything would have made him happier.”

  “What made their relationship so close?”

  “Well, they shared the same taste in movies, for one. William Wyler was their favourite director, and she introduced him to William Friedkin and George A. Romero, or, rather, his appreciation for their work deepened after watching their movies with her. Try as I might to get him interested in John Carpenter, my personal favourite, he wouldn’t give him the chance he gave her favourites. He put stock in what she said and believed. I guess that’s what it came down to.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t know what it came down to. Julia was magnetic, for sure, but she was also flighty, dramatic, and stubborn. I was frustrated with her half the time, a
nd now I can put a name to the jealousy I felt, but that wasn’t all of it. It’s like I always knew she wasn’t someone who’d stick around. I knew she couldn’t be counted on. I’m sorry for saying all this…”

  “No, it’s helpful. Learning about her has been helpful. Those words also haven’t been the worst said about her.”

  “Well, I hope you get to meet her and make an informed, first-hand opinion.”

  “Me too. Did she mention any other places she worked? Places she liked to go? People who were important to her?”

  He shook his head. “She mentioned her mom the odd time, only when my mom would ask about her. That’s all I can remember.”

  “Well, thank you for taking the time to see me.”

  “Hey, hold on.” He stood. “This is a long shot, but…”

  He walked to one of the filing cabinets and crouched, reaching for the bottom drawer. He slid out an old brown accordion file.

  “It was about the time she came around, we started keeping employment records. Or maybe it was just after. Give me a second. It was Morris, right? Last name Morris?”

  “Yes.”

  He brought out several papers and laid them on his desk, breathing heavily as he sorted through them.

  “Here!” He pulled out what looked like a recipe card and scanned it before handing it to her. “It’s not much, but maybe there’ll be something here that helps.”

  She read the few hand-written sentences on the page.

  Julia Morris, Post Crescent, Amherst

  Three dollars per hour worked.

  A phone number came after it, likely for that address, and that was it.

  “I appreciate your help.” Madigan stood, handing the card back.

  “Ah, sorry, I couldn’t be of more help. Best of luck finding her.”

  “Thanks.”

  She descended the stairs with a heavy feeling in her chest, her boots clunking against each step on the way down to the main floor.

  That was it. My last lead.

  If Grace could find something, anything…

  She meandered out of the theatre and pulled her helmet out of her bag.

  Until then, I’m off to catch a stalker.

  Nine

  Grace and Mac stood behind Tarek, each leaning over his shoulder as he typed.

  “So, I’m pulling up yesterday’s records from the phone company,” Tarek said. “These are calls made to and from Tyler Gibbons’ phone, and they start here. One call to Joel Wallace at eight oh nine in the morning. A call to Ancetrack Communications just after ten AM. Then, not another until four twenty-five PM from Tyler to a private number… Okay, this is a pre-paid cell. Then… as you can see, no more calls to or from his cell phone after that.”

  “He wasn’t on his phone during the time of the accident,” Mac said, “at least not talking to anyone. What about texts?”

  “That’s separate. We don’t have that yet.”

  “Joel said Tyler left anytime between four and five that afternoon.” Grace stood and turned to face them. “Big window of time, and then the accident didn’t occur until around seven. Tarek, can you tell us which cell tower that last afternoon call pinged from?”

  Tarek nodded. “If he crossed the bridge, it’ll be Tall Pines. If he was on the bridge or in Amherst, it’ll be one of several there… It’s Amherst. The one nearest the coast.”

  “Is that the one it’d be if he were close to the office?” Mac asked. “This address here.”

  “Hmm.” Tarek typed in the address. “No. Didn’t think so. That one’s closer to the bridge, actually.”

  “He must have gone somewhere else before he started home,” Grace said. “Can you check and see if Tyler had contact with that last number he called before?”

  “Sure, I’ll go back. Here.” He clicked to another page and pointed to the screen. “The day before, there was a call made just after nine PM from that same number.” He clicked over and over again through other pages. “And that’s it. That number called Tyler Gibbons the night before his accident, and Tyler called that number only hours before his accident.”

  “Could you send me an email with the records, please?” Grace asked, walking to the chair with her jacket draped over the back.

  “Sending now. Anything else?”

  Grace grabbed her jacket, and Mac joined her. “That’s all. Thanks, Tarek.”

  He nodded, typing away at the keyboard as Officer Malone joined them, coffee in hand. “Hey, how’s that case coming? Any ruling yet? Accident? Homicide?”

  “Not yet,” Grace said. “We’re working on it.”

  “Working hard.” Malone smirked. “Very hard, from what I hear.”

  Mac scoffed with a smile. “What’s that supposed to mean? She is.”

  “I hear you’re both working hard together.”

  Mac huffed and rolled his eyes.

  “Who’s saying that?” Grace asked. “What do they… Are they insinuating—”

  “Hey,” Malone laughed and shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m not sayin’ anything.”

  “You just did. You should have kept your mouth shut,” Mac said. “And if you hear anyone else gossiping like high schoolers, remind them they should say it to my face, would ya?”

  “Easy, Mac. It’s just fun. We’ve never had anyone dating around here.”

  Grace’s cheeks flushed with warmth as she scanned the office. Officer Vila stared at them, and Rhonda gave them a wink on her way to the photocopier.

  They’re all talking about us. Watching us. Judging us. I knew this would happen.

  “Sheppard.” Malone took a step toward her. “I didn’t mean to get you all flustered. It’s not that serious.”

  “This is my job, and I take it seriously.” She draped her jacket over her arm and rubbed her heavy eyelids.

  “I know ya do,” Malone said. “We all know it.”

  “Don’t give it any energy.” Mac shook his head. “Get outta here, Malone. We’re actually working, something you might want to try.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Malone wandered off to his corner cubicle.

  “I’m going to try to get some sleep,” Grace said.

  “Hey.” Mac reached out to her arm, but she stepped back. “Okay. I’ll look into our persons of interest so far while you’re gone.”

  “Thanks. Send me what you come up with.” She turned toward the short hallway to the front of the building.

  They think we’re being personal during business time. We’re the talk of the department. Word travels fast. Does everyone know? What must Banning think?

  I have to stay focused on the case. Prove them all wrong like I’m used to doing anyway.

  Ten

  Madigan entered the parking lot of Deerhorn County’s morgue and parked her bike between a dark gray car and a white van by the door.

  If Raven had a difficult time following her gut feeling, Madigan wanted to follow it for her.

  Raven walked outside, her heels clicking against the pavement as a woman about her age with dark hair, and thick-framed black glasses followed and shut the door behind her.

  Raven’s assistant.

  Raven laughed at something she said before pressing the buttons on the security touch pad by the door, then stopped as she made eye contact with Madigan.

  Raven frowned, staring at her with confusion.

  “Hi, I know you didn’t expect to see me here, or maybe ever again…” Madigan trailed off as Raven stared past her.

  I didn’t expect her to be happy to see me, but this… this is weird.

  Raven marched toward the lot and disappeared on the other side of the white van.

  “Did you do this?” Raven called, an air of urgency in her voice. “Melanie? Did you leave that there?”

  Melanie disappeared behind the van, and Madigan followed them.

  “No,” she said, shrugging and glancing at Madigan as she approached. “Did you?”

  A dried long-stem rose with a red ribbon tied around it sat
on the hood of a black car, leaning against the windshield.

  “No,” Madigan said, “I just got here.”

  Raven covered her mouth with her hand, staring back at Madigan before glancing around the small lot surrounded by trees.

  Is he watching? Is Paul Rothman watching her reaction?

  Madigan darted past the cars, toward the trees, and scoured the grounds among them, rounding the side of the building and jogging around the back to the parking lot again where they both stood, still staring at the rose.

  “You promise you didn’t leave it there?” Raven asked.

  Why would Melanie have left it there? I guess no one else would make sense.

  “I swear.” Melanie crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, do you have a secret admirer or something?”

  Madigan joined them and studied the rose. “No note or anything?”

  Raven shook her head. “Why is he doing this? I told him I wasn’t interested. The bear and no note. Now this. If he’s trying to get me interested again or to bribe me into seeing him, he’s got another thing coming.”

  “Who?” Melanie asked.

  Raven shook her head. “No one. It doesn’t matter. Go on home. We have to be here early tomorrow to finish some tests.”

  “Hey, is some guy bothering you?” Melanie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Raven sighed, “but there’s nothing I can do about it, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay…”

  Raven sighed and patted her arm. “Thanks.”

  As Melanie got into her car, Raven opened the door to hers. “This is ridiculous at this point. I’m going to contact him and tell him to stop.”

  “Okay, but what if he doesn’t admit to it? Could it be anyone else?”

  “I don’t think so. I know, it doesn’t make sense—”

  “If it’s Paul Rothman, it makes more sense than you might imagine. He could be trying to get your attention, and if he doesn’t care how, he doesn’t understand boundaries. I came back here to see if you’d consider letting me tail you. Watch your house for a little while? See if I can’t catch whoever’s doing this in the act?”

 

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