Edging In
Mattie Cabot paced the small holding cell, which was lined with benches and in full view of the glassed-in booking desk where officers came and went over the hours she was stuck there. When the jailer finally approached, she felt relief to finally be released. Instead, he walked her the wrong direction down the hall, towards the county jail cells, and placed her into a permanent cell. A second jailer did the same with Drake Cabot. The Cabots could not even talk to one another through the thick doors locking them in. Mattie tried to keep her wits about her, though her nerves were beginning to fray.
The young fiddler watched the Cabots pass the holding cell he occupied. Thomas Kelly, too, heard the clanging of metal doors and then the hallway grew silent. Both Jake and Thomas became lost in their private thoughts. Jake Smith yearned for his youthful days when he sat at his grandfather’s feet and learned the art of fiddling. He bowed his head in shame, thinking that if the Shredder was alive today, Jake wouldn’t be capable of bearing his look of disappointment. How had Jake become so greedy in his life when, deep down, all he ever wanted to do was play music, with or without an audience?
Thomas Kelly gritted his teeth and seethed about his treatment at the hands of the detectives. Remorse was the furthest from his mind. His small congregation consisted of small-time, successful farmers and citrus growers. It was true they earned enough through hard work to sustain their families, but none were wealthy. It had been easy enough to tell himself he was simply borrowing from the congregation’s collections and petty cash. At first, he took a few dollars, tens and twenties. The spinster Ms. Barbara Taylor never missed it because he counted the intake himself and then gave her the tally. She adored him and never thought to question his methods. He was adept in his skill of siphoning off others, having practiced his skill when he was a teenager. A winning personality proved to be his best asset in life. He drew people to him like a magnet, his soft-spoken, mild manner covering over the rougher, more grasping parts of him.
Before he arrived at the country church, he managed to embezzle enough money from various temporary bosses to live a simple but comfortable lifestyle. When Barbara Taylor surprised him after services one Sunday morning, he had slammed his desk drawer shut and asked if he could help her. The horrified look on her face was all it took to tell him she had seen him slip money from the collections and was beginning to grow suspicious. He remembered well that day, as he had invited her into his office.
“I think you should stick to playing the organ, Ms. Taylor,” he had told her. “Perhaps the accounting is too strenuous in your later years.” His steely dark eyes prevented her answering verbally. She shook her head, embarrassed and doubting herself. “In fact, let us simply carry on as if everything is fine. I will not tell anyone about the books not balancing, and you will not tell anyone about me fixing it for you, and that is that. The bank account will balance, I can assure you.” This way, he assured that the older woman both doubted her own eyes and skills, though he knew it would only work for a time.
The day he told the Church secretary he would be gone all day, Barbara Taylor overheard the conversation. She arrived unseen to practice the organ. She knew it was time. Her conscience couldn’t allow the minister to cover up a bookkeeping mistake: To her horror, she discovered instead that he was succumbing to theft. She called the local police. It didn’t take long to connect him to a string of larcenies and embezzlement cases up and down the West Coast. That earned him his first experience behind bars.
He shuddered when he realized this stint ahead of him may possibly prove to be a much longer one. There was no reason to ask for an attorney, he commiserated, trying to keep warm in the frigid confines of the holding cell. No one could help him now. He knew all about DNA evidence, and snitches, too. He didn’t doubt someone would talk soon enough. He had time to think things out and his mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this mess.
* * *
Brenda left her computer and searched for her husband. “Mac, I’m going home now. I work better there. I’ll let you know as soon as I find more information.”
“That’s a good idea, Brenda. I’ll call you as soon as we get DNA results from the jumpsuits, the knife and tie, too. According to the coroner, the stab wounds pierced the body at different angles. He thinks there is one weapon and the two killers may have exchanged the weapon…as if taking turns. The strangulation would have worked, according to him, but they didn’t prolong the effort. It’s as if they enjoyed the suffering and wanted it to last.”
With those words, Brenda felt sick to her stomach as she headed home. She didn’t go to her laptop right away. She needed to enjoy the surroundings and walked through the halls of the beautiful Queen Anne bed and breakfast, trying to chase away thoughts of the horrible murder. She thought about her uncle, Randolph Sheffield, and his generosity toward her when he left the property to her. Allie’s cheery greeting helped put her back into a comfortable mood, both inside and out. Her spirits lifted.
“Everyone has checked out…except the four who are in jail.” Allie’s face searched Brenda’s for news. Brenda couldn’t accommodate her now and simply gave her a quick smile.
“It’s been a long day. It’s good to see you, Allie.”
“I guess you’ve had enough for now, Brenda. Can I get you a cup of hot tea? Jenny brought a huge bouquet of late-season flowers. She said they were for you.” Allie moved the conversation to Jenny and anticipation of the baby soon to arrive. “Is there any word yet? I hope it’s a girl.”
Brenda smiled and said she hoped the baby would be healthy. “A boy or a girl will do nothing less than bring a lot of joy into the family. It will be hard for Jenny and Bryce to get back to normal routines once the baby is here.” Brenda accepted the offer of tea. “Why don’t you join me in the sitting room, Allie? It’s been a while since I’ve asked you about your studies and your life in general. It will be an excellent diversion for me, too.” Allie loved talking about her pre-college classes and her life in general.
An hour and a half later, Brenda felt totally relaxed. Allie’s youthful enthusiasm entertained her and successfully swept away the day’s events.
She went to the second floor and checked all the rooms. In a few days, they would have a full house again. The Cabots’ door was locked. She inserted the key and stood in the doorway to observe their belongings. She did the same at Jake’s and Thomas’s rooms. Officers would make a last visit inside Sheffield Bed and Breakfast to collect everything later that afternoon. Then Phyllis and her housekeepers could perform deep cleaning in the rooms. It was strange to think of it, but she could not very well simply hold their belongings while they were all in jail. She took the back stairs down to the rear entrance and stepped outside, walking the pathway to her and Mac’s cottage. Refreshed, she was ready to go forward in the quest to nab the killers of Mason Eads.
When Brenda searched for the website of the Santa Monica Police Department, she noted the long list of charges against the evasive Cabots. While in their business dealings they described themselves as tracking down and meeting with investors, the police department saw it another way: They had been charged with robbing wealthy people after stalking them. Although the couple had not been tried on the charges, they were also wanted in connection with a case where a rich couple was found dead not long after the Cabots visited their home. Instead of smart businesspeople, they seemed more and more like cruel and relentless criminals. So much for kind neighbors looking after them, Brenda thought. It made her wonder if she and Mac had been potential targets as well. She recalled the dinner when they asked Mac about his career. Mattie had frozen in place when Mac told Alan Haas he was a detective in the local police department. That statement may have caused Mattie and Drake to refrain from trying anything criminal against Mac and Brenda Rivers, if that had been their intention.
Her cell phone rang, and Mac’s voice was on the other end. “We think Thomas Kelly is ready to tell all. I read him his rights again and
once more, he declined a lawyer. His attitude appears to be one of defeat. Do you want to come down for the unfolding of the story?”
Brenda was sorely tempted. She closed her laptop before giving her answer. “I’m on my way.”
She had to stop in the bed and breakfast before leaving. Passing through the back hall, she spotted Phyllis and William in the foyer. They were talking with Allie, who filled them in on the latest gossip about the murder of Mason Eads. All turned in Brenda’s direction.
“We have four people in custody right now,” she confirmed, reluctant to say more.
“Four people killed Mason?” Phyllis said. Her eyes widened in shock.
“That must have been brutal for him,” William said. He shook his head in disbelief.
“We think two of them did the deed. One knife has been found out in our dumpster along with a necktie. The style of the tie is very odd…long and very narrow, I can’t think of the name of it...”
“Do you mean a bolo tie?” William said. All eyes swiveled to him. “Very popular with bluegrass musicians, you know. Fiddlers wear them when performing sometimes. I think I saw them on a few of the competing musicians at the Jamboree, actually.”
“I have to get down to the police station,” Brenda said. “I’ll give that information to Mac, William. Thanks for the heads up. One suspect down there is ready to confess everything and it’s not Jake Smith.”
After she left, Phyllis and Allie talked about Jake. “He is a good fiddle player,” Phyllis said. “I did notice some of that old-fashioned western wear in his room when I straightened the room up the other morning. He’s such a nice young man. I’m sure he wouldn’t have anything to do with a murder.”
“He wouldn’t kill a fly,” Allie added. William didn’t answer. He knew from experience that sometimes those least suspected turned out to be someone else entirely. “I could listen to that fiddle every day,” Allie said.
“Do you really think more than one person killed poor Mason?” Phyllis said. “I had hoped it was maybe a drifter who slipped in among the tourists in town. Now I’m wondering if it was a guest here. I doubt a drifter would have left a murder weapon in a dumpster here.”
“Mac and Brenda will figure things out.” William suggested they go downtown for a break at Morning Sun Coffee. He invited Allie to go along since all guests had left. She locked the bed and breakfast after telling Chef Morgan she was in the place alone. The chef was gathering her belongings to leave and secured the back door, waving goodbye to them.
The recent swell of tourists in town had dwindled. Molly was in the back room of her coffee shop when they entered. The three ordered lattés from the cashier. She brought the drinks to their table just as Molly came to the front. She poured a cup of hot tea and joined her mother and the others.
“Do they know who killed Mason Eads yet?” she asked.
“They have four suspects locked up. They’ll get to the bottom of it all soon,” Phyllis said. “Where’s Jonathan?”
Molly stared at her mother and blushed only a little. “It’s a work day. I presume he’s down at the dock where he runs his business.” Phyllis laughed and told her she was certain he would be by for another break in her coffee shop soon.
Molly stammered as she felt heat rising to her face. “He may come in later. Tell me, who is behind bars? Do they really think four people killed him?”
When she heard Jake Smith was one of them, her mouth gaped. “They surely don’t think that friendly young guy did it?”
“That’s how I feel,” Allie said. “I think he’ll be the first one they set free. Plus, Jake has more performances coming up and can’t be behind bars now.” She felt as if that justified his innocence. Phyllis and William had nothing to add.
“We’ll just have to be patient. Chief Ingram’s people are thorough when it comes to gathering facts. None of them rely on suspicions alone.” William sipped his latté and said nothing else. His wife knew him well enough to know he thought plenty but chose words carefully.
* * *
Brenda went into Mac’s office where he and Chief Ingram waited for her. She had had plenty of time on her way down to think about Thomas Kelly. She was aware of his prison stint for embezzlement, but she still wasn’t clear on how he became so involved with California Products Only. He must have had a close connection with Mason, or perhaps someone else in the partnership who got him in. How had he gotten the money to invest, anyway? Perhaps he and Mason worked together in shady deals long before he joined the company. That was something to take into consideration as well. Brenda hoped Mac was right in assuming Thomas was on the verge of confessing everything.
Bryce rushed in and told her to join him with Mac and the chief. “I’ve got the camera footage from the paint store.” She hurried in behind him. Bryce spread the report out in front of Mac. The police chief looked over his shoulder.
“This confirms my suspicions of ownership of the jumpsuits,” Mac said. He pushed the report toward Brenda who agreed.
“Let’s start with the musician kid this time,” he said. “Thomas can be left to stew a while longer.”
“He may change his mind if you don’t talk with him soon,” the chief said.
“I think I’ll take that chance. If he doesn’t confess right away, he will when he sees this.”
Brenda and Mac waited for the jailer to escort Jake Smith back to the interrogation room where they waited. Lines that before went unnoticed now showed clearly across his forehead and around his mouth. They were told Jake had refused food so far. He again stated he had no appetite when they offered to fetch him a donut from the break room. Mac invited him to sit down. He spread his hands over the report as if to smooth invisible wrinkles from it.
“How much did you pay for the white jumpsuit you bought at the paint shop?” Mac asked Jake.
He jerked to attention and then the desperation in his eyes faded to despair. “That was Thomas’s idea. Where did you find it?”
“Did you wear it?” Brenda prompted him.
He hesitated. “It was Thomas’s idea,” he repeated. “I didn’t want to put it on. I didn’t want to help him with any of it, I swear. He kept insisting we could avoid blood splatters on our regular clothes and get away with the whole thing. Where did you find it?” He bent his head into his hands and then looked up. “I didn’t do it. I saw him do it, but I wasn’t involved.”
“It will be easier if you just admit you and Thomas killed Mason Eads together,” Mac said, not budging an inch.
Jake didn’t answer. He thought things over. “I’d like to have my lawyer present,” he said.
Back in his cell, Jake dipped his head into his hands. He felt the sweat drip down his back. Childhood memories flooded over him and, as so often in the last few years, he thought that the innocent young fiddler of long ago was someone he had never met. From this moment on, he realized he must clear his head of the child who had learned at his grandfather’s knee; it was time to face the consequences like a man.
Thomas Kelly paced in his cell. He decided to face the fact there was no recourse for him. He stopped when he saw a well-dressed man pass his cell and stop at Jake’s. Thomas heard the young musician greet him as if he knew him well.
“I took the first train out of New York, Jake. I got here as fast as I could. Tell me why you’re locked up in this cell.”
Thomas heard keys clanging as the jailer opened the cell door. The men’s voices drifted away when they reached the small room at the end of the hall where they could talk in private. Thomas stopped and wondered if he should ask for a lawyer like Jake had. It would have to be a court-appointed one. Thomas knew he had no money to pay for a top-notch attorney. However, he didn’t have to tell his part of the story now if he asked for one. His mind flip-flopped backward and forward over the matter. His hands dropped to his sides as he despaired of understanding the best way to go forward. What evidence did they have? Could a lawyer possibly save him? Was he risking the death penalty if
he spoke up? It was too terrible to contemplate.
Mac was called to the phone again. Detective Stanton spoke again from California. “We’d like to have the Cabots transported to California for trial.”
“We have them here on murder charges, so you’ll have to wait your turn.” Detective Stanton sighed audibly. “If you want to question them about your matters, we have no objections.”
“We’ve waited this long,” the detective said. “I suppose we can do so a little longer as long as we know they aren’t free.”
“The judge determined they be held without bond, so they’re not going anywhere, Detective Stanton.” Both men agreed that was a very, very good thing.
Chapter 9
Turn of Events
Brenda reminded Mac that though the jumpsuits were obviously purchased by Thomas and Jake, it didn’t prove they were the ones who killed Mason. Processing DNA and matching the evidence took too long in Brenda’s estimation. The specialist who had been called in to make the final determination had been delayed.
“We are sure they did it. We just need that final stamp on it all.” Mac brushed his thick blonde hair from his forehead. Brenda grinned and made a mental note to remind him it was time for a haircut. He stood up. “It’s time to get Thomas Kelly back for interrogation.”
They walked to the interrogation room and waited. Both crossed their fingers in hopes he didn’t suddenly feel the need for an attorney. He had been read his rights, and Mac didn’t push doing it again. It may give Thomas more time to think about telling the story.
“What do you want to tell us, Thomas?” Mac used his first name casually to gain his confidence.
“I bought the white jumpsuit and I put it on. It was my idea since I knew everyone at the bed and breakfast would be searched as soon as Mason’s body was discovered. I was with Jake right after the contest for a brief moment. We made last-minute plans. Everything was set up. He didn’t want to wear anything bulky, but I told him the over-sized jumpsuit would give us more room to move freely. He left and waited until I met him at the dead-end roadway near Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. We put the overalls on and waited for Mason. We knew he planned to spend time at the beach. I heard him tell Sara Haas he liked to surf past sunset sometimes and was confident enough to try the Atlantic that evening because of the tides. She asked him if he was going to the Fiddlers Jamboree and that’s when he told her his plans.”
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