“Are we here to question the family about their father’s disappearance, or do you also think there’s something suspicious about the fire?” Ordinarily, he wouldn’t ask a question that might have been answered in a report he was supposed to have read, but he wanted to know what the Chief thought.
“Both,” the Chief said, to Bank’s relief. “The disappearance is odd, and the wife — wives — denying he’s missing, then sending Grace to ask questions, is odd. An accidental fire is too coincidental on top of all that oddity. Especially when it all happens to an unconventional family like the Overtons.”
Banks nodded. “Plus, that Sawyer guy, the producer, looks and acts like a squirrel.”
“Is that why you told him we thought the fire wasn’t an accident?” McNamara asked.
“That’s not what happened.” Banks was incensed and made no effort to hide it. “He came by the office after he got out of the hospital, which was bogus. You should have heard him describing his labored breathing as if he was ninety with emphysema.”
“When he came to give his statement, which I asked him to do, you’ll recall — what did you say?”
“He asked if we knew what started the fire. I said no.”
The Chief’s look was steady and far from agreeable. “That’s all you said?”
“Dude had a tone. Like we were basic hicks who weren’t doing anything. I said we were still running tests.”
“Dude told the Overtons we thought it was arson,” McNamara snapped.
“Well, we do, don’t we?”
The lecture that might have been was interrupted when a white Tahoe pulled up behind them, and a tall woman with shoulder-length red hair got out.
“What’s she doing here?” Banks asked. The arrival of Desiree Marbury was an unexpected and unpleasant turn of events. He and the Maryland State Police detective didn’t get along. To be more precise, Marbury viewed him with disdain, and he tried to pretend she didn’t exist.
“Wasn’t sure she could make it,” the Chief said. “But it will save time in the investigation since the State Fire Marshall’s office is ultimately in charge.”
“And they sent the State Police out here for a garage fire?”
“You know Desi and I worked together for a while in the State Police. She’s in the area today, and I wanted her take on the Overtons.”
Banks was offended and confused, but mostly offended. It wasn’t enough that the Chief treated him like a trainee instead of a corporal, but McNamara knew that Marbury was one of Banks’ least favorite people. To add to the insult, McNamara hadn’t just worked with Marbury, he’d been her supervisor and mentor. And now he wanted to work with her on the Overton case, which despite their relationship, made no sense at all.
“Are you coming, or waiting in the car?”
Banks realized McNamara was speaking to him from the sidewalk where he stood next to Marbury.
“Do we need to bring junior up to speed, sir?” Marbury asked McNamara as Banks joined them.
Banks ignored the comment. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Chief,” he said, then added, “Detective Sergeant Marbury, always a pleasure.” He’d be damned if he’d stoop to her level. She’d been two years behind him in school and was now light years ahead of him professionally, and she never let him forget it.
“If we could talk about the Overtons?” McNamara said.
Banks marveled at the instant change in Marbury’s demeanor. Suddenly polite, she nodded to him, then turned to address McNamara directly.
“A minute’s about all I have, sir. There’s a development in, uhm, the case I’m handling.” She hesitated and glanced at Banks, who felt himself turn red when he realized she didn’t want to give details in front of him. Deserved or not, how many times was he going to be insulted before he got down to any actual work today?
“We can handle this if you need to leave, Sergeant,” McNamara said.
“Sir. I do have to get on the road, but I wanted to touch base with you.” Again, Banks got a sideways glance. “And to get the lay of the land for myself. I’ll call you later, and we can catch things up.”
“Sounds good,” McNamara said. “These women might not know much about what happened on Tuesday, or the daughter may have told them more than she told us. If she can state for sure that she or Sawyer Renne started the fire, it would tie up some loose ends. If not, we’ll have to come up with another way to get the information.”
Banks felt stupid. What was he missing? Avril had said the garage had only had a few gardening tools in it. What was the big deal?
“I also want to talk to the two mothers and the oldest daughter about the father,” McNamara said, drawing them back to the situation at hand. “So far, Mrs. Overton has refused to let us question the children. Now the fire gives me a reason to interview Hallie.”
“Don’t we need a court order and a social worker if a parent won’t give us permission?” Banks asked, emphasizing ‘we,’ and hoping he’d gotten that bit of protocol right.
McNamara smiled. “If your magnetic personality doesn’t convince the biological mother, yes. But we’ll try the easy way first.”
Marbury said, “The father’s situation could still be innocent at this point — the GPS could be defective, or he might not have read the fine print on the lease. In either scenario, he could show up with the car, and then it’s a matter of money wrestling between him and the rental agency. Interesting situation with this polygamist angle. Wish I had time today, but I’ll keep in touch.”
Banks wanted to say the Overtons were polyamorists, not polygamists, but Marbury was moving away. He noticed that McNamara didn’t tell her either.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked McNamara as they walked to the house. “Be quiet and take notes, right?”
“Do what you do best,” McNamara said as the front door opened, and four giggling children spilled out.
Banks was amazed the Chief thought he had a ‘best’ but didn’t have time to wonder what it was before he was surrounded.
“My husband will return any day now, I assure you. And when he does, he can answer your questions.” Melanie Overton’s words were firm and might have been convincing if she hadn’t been clutching a large wad of tissues. The interview was just starting, and her face was already damp.
Once the women had learned McNamara and Banks had no news about their husband, they’d been reluctant to cooperate. Banks’ good-natured banter with the children had gotten them in the house, and McNamara’s offer to take the sisters’ statements in their home instead of the police station had sealed the deal.
McNamara said, “I hope Mr. Overton returns soon, but we aren’t here today to talk about your husband. There was a fire here that caused quite a bit of damage, and we need to discuss it.”
The women looked at each other, then Whitney said, “All right. But we told you everything on Tuesday. The owner of this house understands we had nothing to do with what happened. I’m sure there was something flammable in the garage that ignited somehow.”
“Such as?”
“Corporal Banks told my daughter it was a mulch fire,” Melanie said.
McNamara looked at Banks, who shrugged. There was no point in denying it.
“We Googled it,” Melanie continued, “and sure enough, it’s possible for mulch to spontaneously combust if it’s piled too deep and the weather is hot and dry. So, there. Like I said, it wasn’t our fault.”
Banks waited for McNamara to call her out on the unlikely possibility of spontaneous combustion on a rainy day, but all he said was, “You’ve had a rough time lately; I can appreciate that.”
“Well, that’s a nice change. Thank you.” Whitney rewarded them with a brief smile.
“Just a few questions, and we’ll be on our way,” McNamara continued. “Why did Sawyer Renne have a key to the padlock on the garage door?”
“What padlock?” Whitney asked. Her sister looked equally confused.
“One of your children, Brayden,
told Corporal Banks that he saw Renne unlock the padlock before entering the garage.”
Banks felt uneasy. The women didn’t look happy, and he worried that he’d just gotten a five-year-old in trouble.
“We know nothing about that,” Whitney said. “But Sawyer works for Lightning Strike, and they rented this place, so if he had something stored in the garage, it makes sense that he’d put a lock on the door. Have you asked him?”
“I will,” McNamara said. “Who was caring for your children on Tuesday?”
Melanie looked incensed, but it was Whitney who answered. “Our daughter Hallie is sixteen and perfectly able to handle the other seven who were home at the time. She also had her sisters to help her. The twins are eight and are very good with the toddlers.”
“None of the children besides Brayden saw anything unusual or out of place?” the Chief asked.
“You can’t question the children!” Melanie sat upright. “They didn’t see anything, and we don’t permit interviews with them. Besides, they’re upstairs with their tutor.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Interviewing them, I mean,” McNamara lied. His tone made it clear he was thinking about it now.
“No,” Whitney protested. “You’ll have to speak to our lawyer. Maybe we should call her.”
McNamara changed tack and steered the conversation away from Grace. “What about Mr. Renne? Was he here when the fire broke out?”
The question seemed to set both women back, but Melanie spoke up. “Hallie was taking care of the children. Sawyer showed up after the fire started. I believe you already know that.”
“I have his statement, yes.” McNamara waited for the implication to sink in.
“Talk to the landlord,” Whitney said. “She’s lives next door.”
“Miss Oxley was away most of the day,” McNamara said.
“Then we can’t help you,” Whitney said. “When our husband gets home, you can talk to him.”
“But he wasn’t here, either,” Banks said. He’d been getting bored, and since no one objected, he kept talking. “Do you believe your husband and Ms. Jones are together? I was going through the reports, and I noticed that neither of you ever said.”
Melanie said, ‘no’ just as her sister said, ‘I hope so.’
McNamara said, “Mrs. Overton, Whitney, would you speak privately with me?”
Banks, uncertain if he’d been dismissed or promoted, stood and said to Melanie, “I’m pretty handy in the kitchen. Would you let me make coffee? I didn’t get my usual six cups today, and I could really use some.”
It wasn’t much of a joke, but it was enough to get the nervous woman on her feet and moving. Banks was rewarded with a nod from the Chief. He was congratulating himself on his success in motivating a witness without brute force when Melanie said they only had herbal tea or instant decaf.
Banks suppressed a shudder and tried to think of the questions he should ask while he had the weaker sister without her watchdog.
Chapter Thirteen
The large, sunny kitchen was an open concept design, which meant children’s toys, shoes, and clothes spilled from the family room area at one end and into the kitchen at the other. Running footsteps and the occasional shriek from overhead confirmed Whitney’s earlier statement that the children were upstairs.
“I know what you’re doing,” Melanie said. She opened a cabinet filled with boxes of tea and snacks and waved toward a kettle on the large gas range. “Knock yourself out. You can make tea if you want some, but I’m not answering your questions.”
“I don’t blame you,” Banks said as he filled the kettle. “You can’t be too careful, I understand. But the only reason the Chief sent me in here was so he could talk to your sister without interruptions.”
Melanie looked indignant at this, so he rushed on. “It’s me, you see.” He decided the truth might work. “I’m trying to move up, get promoted, but there’s nowhere to go in a two-person department. Anyway, the Chief still lets me come along for meetings like these to improve my interviewing technique.”
She got up and started for the kitchen door.
“No, please don’t do that.” He tried to sound desperate, which wasn’t all that hard. “This is what I’m talking about. I’ll be fired if you go out there.”
He couldn’t believe it worked.
She turned around and gave him a look that he was sure worked wonders on her kids. “What’s going on?”
“It’s like this, you’ve told us all you can and it’s clear you’re in charge here. Your sister seems very dependent on you and the Chief wants to give her every opportunity to tell her story without, uhm…” he ran out of bullshit just as she was starting to smile.
He turned and grabbed the first box of tea he saw. Raspberry. It figured. He hated herbal tea and raspberries. He took another look in the cabinet and found a box of Zebra Cakes.
“Help yourself,” Melanie said, but she came back to the kitchen table. “One of the kids sneaked them into a grocery cart last week and they’ll only rot up there. Whitney doesn’t allow sugary snacks.”
“I guessed as much. Poor little guys.” Banks was relieved to see her smile grow. “Well, I mean, dried apricots and granola?”
“I do a lot of baking,” Melanie said. “I make sure everyone has wholesome snacks and desserts. Whitney doesn’t eat sweets, so I can spoil the kids from time to time.”
She didn’t look as if she ate anything at all, and he wondered if her idea of spoiling children was to put carob chips in their sugarless cookies. He poured boiling water over the tea bags and tried not to recoil from the aroma.
“Your sister calls the shots on food choices, huh?”
“Whitney likes to think she and Heath run everything, but we’re a team. All of us. The big kids help and they have a say in how we do things. We’re a democracy.”
“Interesting,” Banks said. It was also crazy. His mother would have thumped him a good one if he’d suggested such a thing, but Melanie was talking without crying. He took two cups from hooks along the underside of a cabinet and filled them with the red tea. Passing a cup to her, he said, “Is it all worked out with this new woman, Felicia Jones? The kids and you and your sister are all happy about sharing your husband and expanding the family?” He wasn’t even sure she still had a husband to share.
She frowned. “Well, we don’t involve the children in a decision like that. I mean, choosing a spouse is personal, isn’t it?”
“I’ve always thought so. Are you saying you look at it as if you’re marrying this woman, too?” He was losing her; he could see it. Her eyes were watering again. “I’m just curious. For myself, I mean. I’ve never met a family like yours.”
He added the last part quickly and wondered if he’d crossed into forbidden territory. But she was still listening and wasn’t crying yet, so he kept on. “My mom always preached at me to be sure I found the right woman before I got married. She says men aren’t able to love two women at the same time.”
“There are many kinds of love.” She took a sip of her tea. “Although your mother was probably right about your father. You were thinking about your father, weren’t you? Did he leave you?”
Banks tasted the noxious tea and tried to look too emotional to respond.
“If he loved your mother and the other woman, he could’ve made it work without leaving his family. Good men don’t do that.”
“It’s not that easy,” he said, thinking of Niki. He also felt defensive about his imaginary father’s imaginary betrayal. Then he wondered if Melanie was talking about her own husband.
“But it is,” she said. “Humans are hard-wired to love multiple people. That’s what ensures the success of the species. It’s science; a pack mentality. Our family’s arrangement developed naturally. Organically, really. We needed help, and Whitney was there. She was wonderful and I understood Heath loving her for it. Of course, I’ve always loved her — she’s my sister. The kids adore her, too.”
H
e couldn’t imagine discussing any type of plural relationship with Niki, although he could easily imagine her killing him if he did. “But what about, you know, what about…”
“Sex?” Her cheeks pinked up a bit. “Don’t be embarrassed to say it. We discuss it on television, so I’m getting used to the questions and the fact that nobody believes or even listens to our answers. They just enjoy the mental images.”
Banks was so flustered, he forgot himself and drank some tea.
Melanie laughed. “Goodness, if you think it’s that bad, dump it and get some water.”
He noticed that she wasn’t drinking her tea, either, but she was smiling. He emptied his cup into the sink. “I’ll listen,” he took a stool at the island counter. “Tell me about it.”
Hallie Overton may have been Melanie’s daughter, but McNamara thought she was a junior Whitney. Wide blue eyes glared at him from under a blanket of tousled black hair. She wore cut-off jeans, Daisy Duke style, and a halter top that countered any misconception that the Overtons’ plural family might embrace a conservative religious lifestyle. Her appearance in the living room interrupted a line of questions that were getting McNamara nowhere with her aunt. He asked Hallie to join them.
“No.” Whitney got to her feet. “No questioning of the children.”
“Whatever.” Hallie plopped down on the sofa. “But I can sit wherever I want. You know, I’m nearly eighteen.”
Her aunt didn’t budge. “You won’t be seventeen until next month, young lady, and you will not talk to the police.”
Hallie narrowed her eyes and stayed put, but she didn’t argue.
“I’ve heard nice things about you, Hallie,” McNamara said. “It sounds as if you did a good job yesterday, keeping the younger children calm and inside the house.”
“Go upstairs, Hallie.” Whitney had one hand at her niece’s arm and her eyes on McNamara.
“It won’t take long to get a court order, Ms. Overton,” McNamara said. “Or I can ask her some questions now at home with you as a witness.”
Bad Intent Page 6