If She Feared (A Kate Wise Mystery—Book 6)

by Blake Pierce

  It was clear that Redman wanted to say a number of things to DeMarco, but he showed restraint. His hands were clasped together in front of him, still handcuffed together.

  “Mr. Redman, were you stealing anything from Mr. Mulligan before you quit?” Kate asked.

  “I’m not answering that.”

  “There’s no reason not to,” DeMarco said. “We’re questioning you on the grounds of having access to at least two of the homes that people have recently been killed in. I could give two shits if you were stealing from Mulligan.”

  Kate bit back a wince; she wished DeMarco hadn’t gone so extreme on that. If Redman was smart enough (and that was a big if), he might figure out that they had no intention of pressing charges. And if he wasn’t the killer, that would give him the upper hand. If he knew they had nothing on him, it could make for a very difficult interrogation.

  But apparently, Redman wasn’t that smart. Maybe DeMarco had already noted this and banked on it. Perhaps, Kate thought, she was not giving DeMarco enough credit.

  “I wasn’t stealing from Mulligan. But yeah…I had taken a few things from the properties we worked, moving furniture in. But not from Mulligan. Not yet, anyway. But I had planned on it. Almost did it last night, even though I’d already quit. But I decided to go out drinking instead. It just wasn’t worth the trouble.”

  “What had you planned on stealing?” Kate asked. It occurred to her as she stood there that she still smelled like whatever beer Redman had spilled on her. She knew it was a bit immature of her to think so, but it made her hope Redman was the killer just so she could see the look on his face when he realized he was trapped.

  And he might very well be the killer, Kate thought. The pieces we have on him are all rather small, but they fit perfectly together to make a much larger picture.

  “Nothing big. Copper pipes, some flex pipe, steel rods. Things like that. Nothing the construction guys would miss. The shit just sits there on the sites for weeks and weeks, you know?”

  “Then why steal them?” Armstrong asked.

  He looked at them as if they were idiots. For a moment, Kate didn’t think he was going to answer. “The small-time builders a few towns over will buy that stuff. These are the companies that hire the Mexican guys that hang out in front of Lowe’s or Home Depot looking for carpentry work, you know? Saves them some money.”

  “Sounds like you know a lot about it,” Kate said. “You done it before?”

  “Yeah, it’s part of the petty theft charge.” He seemed to understand that he had also just confessed to reselling the stolen goods. It was the look of a man who had been running a race and realized that he had just stepped in a pile of dog droppings.

  DeMarco stared him down for a while. Kate let her have the floor, wondering where she was headed with it. It was clear that Matt Redman was not the brightest man in Estes, and DeMarco had already proven that in terms of conversation, he wasn’t very observant.

  That, or he’s nervous as hell, Kate thought. Maybe he does have something to hide. Maybe he’s so willing to tell us about his plans to steal building materials because he’s hoping it will distract from something much worse.

  “Mr. Redman, I’m going to show you three addresses,” DeMarco said, rifling through a stack of papers on the table. “I need you to tell me if you have worked in or around them in the past week. It makes no sense to lie because we can have it checked by Jack Mulligan and the other men you’ve been working with.”

  That said, DeMarco slid him a printout with the three addresses where the real estate agents had been killed. The paper also had a few details about the murders, but DeMarco had covered that up with a folded sheet of paper. Redman looked them over and started nodding almost instantly.

  “All three of them,” he said. He looked up to them as he said this, his eyes narrowing. It appeared he was being very cautious, trying to gauge their reaction to his response. Kate could see that he did indeed appear to feel trapped now. She’d seen it before in countless sets of eyes from behind the interrogation table—darting pupils, the narrowing and squinting of the eyes, looking around the room in a paranoid state.

  “How recently?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a week or so.”

  “Do you have access to the home you work around or do you need your employers to let you in?” Kate asked.

  It was a bait question, and one that Redman took right away. Kate knew it was a question that he would be emphatic over if he was truthful, or cautious about if he was lying. And as he answered, she could see him focusing, perhaps trying to see all the ways he could be found out, wondering if there were trails they could pick up if they kept seeking. But his answer was already out and the oh-shit that briefly flashed across his face told Kate all she needed to know.

  “I have access,” he said, then hesitated as that wary look came across his face. “But, you know, I need permission first.”

  Kate could see DeMarco preparing to ask another question. She reached out and gently touched DeMarco’s elbow. When DeMarco looked back, Kate gave her a simple shake of the head.

  “Mr. Redman, thanks for all this,” Kate said. “Sit tight, and we’ll get you out of here soon. Agent DeMarco, can I see you out in the hallway for a moment?”

  When DeMarco turned toward her, Kate was relieved to see the look of understanding on her face. It was another way they were growing close as partners; DeMarco knew most of what Kate had just said was bullshit. She just needed to throw something by her partner while not standing in front of their suspect.

  They walked into the hallway, with Armstrong trailing behind them. They took a few steps away from the door and spoke in voices just above a whisper.

  “He’s lying about something,” DeMarco said.

  “I agree,” Kate said. “But as we sit there talking to him, it’s becoming clear to me that right now, there’s really one better place to get answers. He’s being forthcoming for the most part, but he’s also being shady.”

  “You thinking we need to go back and speak to his wife?” DeMarco asked.

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Now that we know enough about some of his past crimes, I think his wife would be more than happy to spill more on him.”

  “That’s Henrietta Redman,” Armstrong said. “Sort of along the same lines of Regina Voss—juts a grade-A snake. Of course, given the nature of the man she married, I guess she has a reason.”

  “Yes, we already spoke to her briefly today,” Kate said. “She seems to be pissed at Matt. If we strike now, there’s no telling how much help she might be.”

  “Let’s be quick, then,” DeMarco said. “Sheriff, do you mind sitting by here with Redman while we go speak to his wife again?”

  “Yeah, I can handle that. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  Kate and DeMarco headed for the front of the building. Kate could feel that familiar stirring of excitement of a case coming close to it end. But it was slightly muted by two other things: that her clothes still reeked of beer and that the pain in her right knee seemed to be going nowhere and she was pretty sure it was swelling.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Kate typically hated working on cases where there were a lot of circles—going back and forth to points already discovered and investigated. But the instincts she had come to rely on throughout her career seemed to feel quite all right with heading back to Matt Redman’s apartment to visit with his wife. She felt even better about it when they saw the look of absolute joy on Henrietta Redman’s face when they told her they needed to ask even more questions about her husband.

  “Look,” Henrietta said as she led them into her small living room. It was remarkably tidy, perhaps because Henrietta had been putting her energy into cleaning while waiting to find out the fate of her husband. “I love the jerk and all, but I kept telling him that one of these days, his past was going to catch up to him. Matt has always been stubborn. He doesn’t learn lessons and he has never learned from h
is mistakes. And he has made a lot of them.”

  “What can you tell us about his criminal record?” Kate asked. “Was that before or during your marriage?”

  “Both. Stupid stuff, too. Stealing from worksites. And before me, he was busted for beating up on his ex-girlfriend.”

  “This latest strong of events—with him quitting this job with Mulligan Movers—it doesn’t seem to surprise you. You seem sort of done with it all.”

  “Well, yeah! Wouldn’t you be? He keeps telling me he’s going to try to clean himself up but then doesn’t want to work. He’s even talked about trying some stupid online scam stuff just to make some quick money. Now…don’t get me wrong; when Matt works, he works hard. He can be a good worker…when he wants to be. But he’s always looking for a shortcut, you know? That’s how he got busted for stealing building supplies and furniture.”

  “Have you ever wondered if he’d do something worse?” DeMarco asked. “Something beyond simple theft?”

  The question seemed to surprise Henrietta, and the expression that crossed her face was all the answer Kate needed. Still, Henrietta also gave a verbal answer.

  “Sometimes,” she said. “He could have. A bad day at work or just be in one of his drunk rages and I always think about what he did to that ex-girlfriend of his. He can get so damned mean.”

  “Over what, exactly?” DeMarco asked.

  “Everything. But, more than anything, he hates how the properties around Estes are bought and sold for these expensive homes. He’s always felt it wasn’t fair that contractors and real estate companies make so much money, while he makes barely over minimum wage.”

  Maybe that would be different if he’d stick with a job and stop stealing materials, Kate thought. But that was neither here nor there; what she was hearing was more motivation for someone like Matt Redman to snap.

  “Do you know if he’d stolen anything as of late?” DeMarco asked.

  “I have no idea. He sort of keeps to himself.”

  “Has he been acting any different lately?” Kate inquired. “Maybe being more secretive than usual?”

  “Yeah, a little. But I didn’t think anything of it.” She started to get suspicious for the first time and now eyed them with something like fear. “Is he…Jesus, do you think he could have really…?”

  “We aren’t sure right now,” Kate said, though she was becoming more and more certain that he had done something—perhaps something irreparably bad. “Right now, we’re just trying to put together as much information as we can.”

  “Mrs. Redman,” DeMarco said, “is there any place in the apartment or maybe something he keeps close to him that he did his best to keep hidden from you?”

  “Nothing serious, no. He’s got some porn videos on his laptop he pretends I don’t know about. And he’s got this strange fixation with this old lunch pail he takes to work. It’s a hand-me-down from his father. He’s very protective of it.”

  “Do you know where it is?” Kate asked.

  “It’s usually in his truck. But he brought it in last night and put it in the coat closet just down the hall. Made the comment that he probably wouldn’t need it anymore for a while since he was out of work.”

  “You mind if we have a look at it?” Kate asked.

  “Sure…one second.”

  Henrietta Redman exited the living room and walked into the small adjoined hallway. She opened up the closet, knelt down, and withdrew an old silver lunch pail. It did indeed look old and Kate had no problem imagining it once belonging to Matt Redman’s father. It had the dents and additional wear and tear along its surface to support its age.

  Henrietta brought it over and handed it to Kate. Kate wasn’t even sure what she was looking for as she looked at the small latch that kept it closed. She thumbed it open and pulled the lid back. It made a very soft squeaking noise and she pushed the top open. She and DeMarco looked inside together and saw nothing more than an empty lunch pail.

  It unfolded almost like a small fishing tacklebox. Only, the top part was totally removable from the track. It came free with a gentle nudge, which surprised Kate, given how old the thing was. She peered into the hidden bottom section of the pail and found it just as empty as the top.

  “Kate…”

  DeMarco was looking to the top tray Kate had removed. More precisely, she was looking under it.

  Kate lifted it and took a few seconds to study what she saw there. There were five keys, all taped to the bottom of the tray with thin gray strips of duct tape. Each piece of tape contained a single word, scrawled in small handwriting with what looked like magic marker. The word on the first piece, holding the first key, was Brewington. The word on the second key was Leander. While Kate had no idea what Brewington was (though she was assuming it was a street somewhere in Estes), Leander was familiar. So was the word on the fourth key: Hammermill.

  “Mrs. Redman, do you have any idea what we’re looking at here?” Kate asked.

  Henrietta shook her head, just as shocked by the discovery as the agents sitting in her living room.

  “Any reason why he’d be hiding these keys?” Kate asked, already heading back for the front door.

  “No. I don’t…I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense…”

  “We’re going to need to take these keys, okay?” DeMarco asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Just…what has he done? What has Matt done?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Kate said, though she was pretty certain she did know. She was so certain that these keys were the smoking gun that she had nearly managed to look beyond the pain in her knee. If these hidden keys meant what she thought they did, she felt like this case might be wrapped within an hour or so.

  “We’ll keep you posted, though,” DeMarco said, joining Kate on her hurried trip to the front door.

  “Don’t bother,” Henrietta said with quite a bit of anger in her voice. “If he’s done something bad, I don’t care if he never comes back.”

  That’s a good thing, Kate thought. Because the way it’s looking, there’s a very good chance he won’t.

  ***

  Leander Drive was the closest location to the Redman residence, so that’s where DeMarco was heading while Kate called Armstrong to fill her in. She requested that she send officers out to the three streets that were not currently known as the sites of murders while she and DeMarco checked Leander and Hammermill.

  “No addresses?” Armstrong asked.

  “Nothing full, no,” Kate said. “Just street names. We need to know the addresses of any available homes on those three streets, as well as the real estate agency that has them listed. If we can then connect Mulligan Movers or even just Matt Redman to any of them, that could be the entire case.”

  “I’ll get it started right now,” Armstrong said with excitement in her voice. She had taken two of the keys before leaving the precinct, doing what she could to cut down their time. “Stay tuned.”

  Kate ended the call and stared ahead through the windshield as DeMarco sped them toward Leander, which was less than two miles away from the apartment complex the Redmans resided in.

  “You want to tell me what’s wrong with your leg?” DeMarco asked out of the blue.

  “What do you mean?” Kate asked.

  “You’re limping. You’re trying to hide it, but I noticed it as we were leaving Henrietta Redman. Was it during the chase out of the restaurant?”

  “Yeah,” Kate said, not seeing the point in lying.

  “Just a tweak or something worse?”

  “I think it’s just a tweak. Maybe I pulled something. Really, it’s okay.”

  While the pain had subsided a bit within the past fifteen minutes or so, it was still there. And because she had injured the area before, she thought it might be more than a simple pull. But she could still walk and the pain wasn’t nearly bad enough to affect her performance. So, for right now, she had to push it away.

  “Any theories on the keys?” Kate asked before DeMarco could ask more q
uestions about her leg.

  “Sure. I think he somehow got a copy of the keys as he worked moving jobs. Not sure why, though. Unless, of course, Redman is indeed the killer. Having keys to the properties he intended to kill the agents in would certainly make it much easier to get to them.”

  “I’m thinking the same thing. The question, though, is where is the key to the property on Magnolia?”

  “Maybe he had more hiding spots for keys. Right now, I’m more concerned about what he might have planned for those other three keys. Or, rather, what Armstrong and her officers might be about to find.”

  It was a harrowing thought, and one that sat heavy on Kate’s mind until DeMarco pulled the car into the driveway of the property on Leander Drive, the same vacant and newly furnished home where Bea Faraday had been killed. Kate plucked the Leander key from the underside of the lunch pail tray as DeMarco parked. They raced to the front porch and even before Kate tried sliding the key into the front door lock, she had a feeling—a sense—of what would happen.

  So, when the key slid perfectly into the lock, she was not at all surprised. Just to make absolutely sure, she turned the key and then tried the doorknob. The door opened easily onto the foyer and the still-stale smell of a recent crime scene.

  “For the sake of consistency,” DeMarco said, “I suppose we should also try the house on Hammermill.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Kate said. “And if that key fits…I think we can officially arrest Matt Redman for three murders.”

  They quickly exited the house, locked up behind themselves, and ran back to the car. No more than twenty seconds passed after DeMarco pulled away from the curb before her phone rang.

  “It’s Armstrong,” she said, answering the call and placing it on speaker mode. “This is DeMarco,” she said.

  “Agent DeMarco, I thought you’d want to know that we have confirmation on the Brewington key. It opens the front door to a house currently for sale. We entered the home, though, and found nothing out of the ordinary.”