by L A Dobbs
Holden scowled down at her. “You always were hard to work with, Hatch. If you align yourself with Mason, you might end up getting burned too. Just think about that before you decide whose side you’re on.”
With that, he pivoted on his heel and stormed out of the squad room.
Sam turned to Bev. “Thanks a lot, Bev. I really appreciate —”
Bev held up her hand. “Shut it, Mason. I just couldn’t let that smug asshole take the case. But I’ll tell you one thing: everything he’s saying doesn’t look very good for you.”
“I know, but there’s an explanation.”
“Explanation or not, there’re been a lot of inconsistencies, and I think you might have pushed the envelope a few times on this case. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt just this once because somehow, I still think you’re a good guy. Not to mention I owe your granddad.”
“Appreciate that.”
“I’m not sure what Joyce is up to. I don’t trust him. This business about giving money to Officer Richardson’s mother doesn’t make any sense to me. Otherwise, I’d cut my losses and ban you from investigating this case right now.” Bev looked around at Jo, Kevin, and Wyatt. “Your people seem to like you and stick up for you. That says a lot about a person. But I’m not stupid, and I don’t like having the wool pulled over my eyes. So you’ve got twenty-four hours to come up with a real suspect in this case before I turn the spotlight on you.”
Kevin sat at his granite breakfast bar, fiddling with the thumb drive he’d taken from Tyler Richardson’s belongings as he considered his options. He didn’t like the way things had gone down at the police station earlier that afternoon. He’d wanted to stay and help with the investigation, but Sam had sent him home. He said he’d already logged enough time, and the weary look on Sam’s face had told him not to argue.
But now, sitting at home, Kevin worried. It appeared that Holden Joyce really had it in for Sam. And Kevin knew that Sam hadn’t gone exactly by the book on a few things. If Joyce wanted to nail him, he probably could. Kevin couldn’t let that happen. Especially because some things might be his fault.
If he gave the thumb drive to Sam, it would be an admission that he’d gone against him. That he’d sold out the department for money. Kevin didn’t even know if anything could be recovered from the thumb drive, but what if some data on it could help Sam? It might be the only way Kevin could make things right. That and the bloody glove.
He’d have to figure out a way to give it to Sam when no one else was around, because whatever was on it might as easily get Sam into trouble as it could get him out of it. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sam was still at the station, puzzling over the case. He could take a ride by and see if the lights were on. But if he did hand it over, he’d risk losing Sam’s trust.
Maybe if he told Sam about the bloody glove, that could somehow make up for the way he’d been going behind his back. He’d protected Sam by digging up the glove and putting it somewhere that might incriminate Thorne. Sam could hardly blame him for that, could he? Especially when Sam didn’t go by the book all the time himself.
It didn’t matter. It was the right thing to do. Kevin shoved the thumb drive in his pocket and headed out to his car. Hopefully, he could catch Sam at the station alone and finally get this off his conscience.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sam and Jo stood looking at the corkboard in his office, the smell of the greasy takeout burgers they’d had for supper cloying the air. It was dark. Lights from the shops sprinkled around the common glittered outside the windows. A few tourists and locals leisurely strolled the sidewalks. Inside, the atmosphere was tense.
“We must be missing something,” Sam said.
“What about the cat hair?” Jo said. “It’s the only physical evidence we have. Maybe we should get a list of everyone who got rabies shots for their cats.”
“It’s something to try, but I imagine a lot of people have cats, and not all of them keep them up-to-date on their shots. Won’t narrow it down much. I think we need to talk to Forest Duncan again. We’ll have to tip our hand and let him know that we know he was working with Tyler. That’ll put us on the same side. He won’t be as nervous, and he might have some information we can use.”
“Or he might be afraid the same thing that happened to Tyler will happen to him.”
“I still can’t believe Tyler was blackmailing Thorne all along,” Sam said. “I feel bad that we assumed the worst of him.” Sam pushed the stack of mail aside and leaned his hip on the corner of his desk.
“Who could blame us?” Jo asked. “Of course, now Bev Hatch will assume the worst of us.”
“Not us,” Sam said. “Me.”
“But Holden Joyce was onto that log forgery. So I’m in this as deep as you are.”
“No. I’ll say I forged it.”
Jo scowled at him. “I’m not letting you get in trouble for me. I forged the logbook, and I’ll own up to it —”
Jo broke off at the sound of the lobby door opening. “Please tell me that’s not Holden Joyce coming back,” she muttered.
“Hey, Sam.” Kevin’s voice drifted in from the lobby a few seconds before his face appeared in the doorway. His eyes flicked from Sam to Jo, showing his surprise to find them both there. He shoved something back into his pocket. His keys, Sam assumed. “I saw the light on and thought I’d stop in. Thought maybe you could use some help. You going over the case?”
“Yeah. Thanks for stopping in. I guess we might have to pull an all-nighter.”
Sam was impressed that Kevin had taken the initiative to stop in. It seemed he really wanted to help with the case. He’d changed a lot from the lazy officer who only wanted to work the minimum hours he’d been assigned at the start of the summer. Sam wondered if they should share more of the details with him. But not now. Maybe later, after the case was solved. Right now, he didn’t want Kevin’s mind clouded by all the subterfuge that had gone on behind the scenes.
“So what have you got? We need to get this FBI guy off our backs.” Kevin stared at the corkboard.
“You can say that again,” Sam said.
“I wonder about Scott Elliott’s friends,” Jo said. “Maybe we should tackle it from that angle. If he was involved in the drug ring and the murders, maybe one of his friends was too.”
“Well, we do need a new angle and new lead,” Sam agreed.
Kevin’s hand hovered over his pocket. He seemed hesitant. “Yeah, maybe —”
“Hello? Anyone home?”
Harry Woolston appeared in the doorway. “I saw the light on and thought I’d come in and see what you were up to. Figured you might be going over the case.”
“Yeah. Come on in.” Sam motioned Harry into the office. Lucy broke from her spot in the corner and trotted over to Harry. He bent down to pet her. “Late night, huh, girl?”
Lucy wagged her tail in response.
Harry looked at Sam and Jo. “So what have you got? Maybe I can help. You know, I was a pretty good detective in my time.”
Sam and Jo exchanged a glance. “We’re not coming up with anything on our own, so maybe you can.”
“Great!” Harry stood next to Jo. “So I see you … ahhh ... ahhh ... achoo!”
Harry doubled over with the force of his sneeze, grabbing onto the desk and knocking the pile of mail onto the floor.
“So you are allergic to Lucy,” Sam said.
“No. He didn’t sneeze when he was near Lucy.” Jo pointed to the orange hairs on her jeans. “It must be the cat hair from the cat from my porch. She was rubbing against my leg earlier.”
Harry pulled a linen hanky from his breast pocket and blew his nose loudly. “That’s right. Doc says I’m pretty allergic to cat dander. Glad I’m not allergic to Lucy, though.”
Sam bent to pick up the mail.
Harry knelt to help him, his knees creaking and popping. “Dang stuff piles up when you don’t tend to it. Why, when me and the missus go to Florida, sometimes they don’t stop t
he mail in time. When we get home, we have a whole pile of it. Never gets to us in Florida.”
Sam stood, looking at the letter in his hand. “Wait a minute. The mail.” He spun around to face Harry. “You sneezed in here the other day.”
“Yeah, so?”
Sam closed his eyes, picturing who had been in the lobby that morning. Wyatt, Reese, Harry, Kevin, and Alvin Ray, the postman. Harry had come in between Wyatt and Alvin. “Does Wyatt have a cat?”
They all looked at each other. Kevin spoke first. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. He mentioned he liked having Lucy around and was thinking it might be nice to have a pet. The way he was talking, it sounded as if he didn’t have any type of pet.”
“I thought so,” Sam said. “What about Alvin Ray, the postman? Anyone know about him? Harry?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”
“You sneezed the other day when you were next to Alvin and Wyatt. Lucy was there too. I thought it was because you were allergic to her. But you never sneezed around her before, and you didn’t sneeze around her just now.”
“I’m fine around dogs. I’m allergic to cat dander,” Harry said. “But Jo has a cat. That’s why I just sneezed. What’s my sneezing got to do with anything?”
Jo shook her head. “I wasn’t in the lobby with you guys. I was in the squad room. I remember hearing you all blabbing while I was waiting for you to come in so we could get to work. Besides, the stray cat didn’t rub against me that day. He only started coming up on the porch a couple of days ago.”
“Reese doesn’t have a cat. Sam doesn’t have a cat. So if it’s not Lucy or Wyatt, then it has to be Alvin Ray who made you sneeze. He must have a cat.”
Harry knit his brow. “Okay. Still don’t see why that’s important, but I don’t know about that. That guy is so meticulous about his uniforms. Did you ever notice they are always perfectly pressed? He takes great pride in the way he looks.”
“Why does he wear those grungy old sneakers, then?” Kevin asked.
“Sneakers? He usually wears dress shoes. They’re always polished to a spit shine,” Harry said.
“Not the other day. His sneakers squeaked on the marble in the lobby. That noise sets my teeth on edge.” Kevin looked down at his own feet, and his eyes narrowed. “Unless something was wrong with his regular shoes. Mine were ruined from the pigeon droppings in the mill where we found Dupont’s body. That stuff doesn’t come off, and it eats away at the shine.”
Sam held up the mail. “And Alvin Ray delivers mail to every house in town. That explains why Scott Elliott didn’t have mail at his house.”
“I’m not following you on that one,” Jo said.
“We thought maybe the fact that the trash hadn’t been picked up at Elliott’s house pointed to Forest Duncan because he didn’t bother to pick up the trash. But that wasn’t it at all. If Alvin Ray is the killer, he’d have known there was no reason to deliver mail to Scott Elliott’s place because he was already dead.”
“Well, it does seem like a lot of things point to Alvin,” Harry said. “But what’s this business about a cat?”
“Forensics found a cat hair in the gun used to kill Dupont.” Sam grabbed his keys. “We need to get over to Alvin Ray’s to see if he has a cat. If he does, we need a sample of the hair.”
They followed Sam out of the office, Sam giving instructions as they walked toward the front door. “Kevin, you take a separate car. Jo and I will go in and talk to Alvin. You wait around back in case he makes a run for it.”
“What about me?” Harry asked. Sam turned to face him. “Harry, I need you to stay here and watch Lucy. This could get dangerous. And Lucy hates cats. I don’t want her running around and getting hurt out there.”
Harry’s face fell in disappointment. “What? I can help.”
“Not this time, Harry,” Sam called over his shoulder as he rushed out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Now remember, whatever happens, we need this guy alive so he can testify against Thorne if he’s involved,” Sam said as they pulled up in front of Alvin Ray’s modest Cape Cod.
Jo had looked up the address en route. Kevin had parked on the street behind the house so Alvin wouldn’t get spooked by two cars. The plan was for Kevin to cut through the yard of the adjacent house to provide backup if needed. They hoped to verify Alvin had a cat and secure a hair sample as unobtrusively as possible. Sam figured that would be easy. Cats shed all the time. All he had to do was pet the damn thing, and he’d have a sample. Then if it matched the one found in the gun, they’d pull Alvin into the station, hopefully for good.
“It doesn’t look like he has much drug money,” Jo said. The white house and black shutters were freshly painted. Colorful flowers spilled out of flower beds along the front. Not a blade of grass was out of place. It was kept nice but still didn’t have anything that exuded money.
“Looks can be deceiving. Let’s pretend this is a friendly call and hope he falls for it. We only need to see if he has a cat. If we can match the hair to the one found inside the gun, we’ll have substantial proof to pull him in.”
Sam grabbed the brass door knocker and tapped it against the red front door. After a few seconds, the door cracked, and Alvin Ray peered out.
He frowned when he recognized who was standing on his doorstep. “What is it?”
“We just have a few questions,” Sam said.
Alvin looked uncertain. “It’s kind of late.”
“I apologize for that, but we’re working overtime on the Dupont case. It’s pretty important that we find the mayor’s killer,” Sam said.
“And you think I can help with that?”
“Why don’t you let us in, and we’ll talk about it?” Sam didn’t like the way Alvin was acting. Was it because he was guilty, or was he just nervous about the cops showing up at his door? Whatever the reason, it made Sam tense.
“I was just on my way out,” Alvin said.
“Really? Where to?” Jo asked.
“Dinner. So if you can come back tomorrow ...”
“It will only take a minute,” Sam persisted. Alvin stared at them for a few beats then opened the door. “Fine. Come in.”
Alvin’s place was decked out with the finest furnishings. Granite counters, a huge flat-screen television, and leather furniture.
“Nice place. I didn’t realize the postmaster’s salary was so high,” Sam said.
“I save. I don’t spend much.” Alvin sidled toward an oak sideboard.
“I see ...”
Meow.
Sam’s heart skipped as a long black cat slunk into the room and curled against Alvin’s leg. Sam glanced at Jo, and they both tensed, their hands hovering around the guns at their hips. “That your cat?” Sam asked.
Alvin’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. So?”
Sam’s eyes drifted to the coffee table, where a new shoebox sat. “Something happen to your shoes?”
Alvin didn’t answer. Instead, he whipped open the drawer of the sideboard, pulled out a gun, and jabbed it in Jo’s direction. “Why did you people have to come here and be so nosy? Now I have to change my plan.”
“Plan?” Sam’s hand hovered near his gun, but he couldn’t draw. Alvin was already pointing his gun at Jo. If he made a move for his gun, Alvin would shoot her.
“Don’t you even think about it,” Alvin warned, his eyes narrowing on Sam’s hand.
Sam moved his hand away. Better keep Alvin talking. “Why’d you kill Dupont?”
“I had my orders.” Alvin laughed. “That’s right. We’re one step ahead of you and about to take you down.”
“But why leave the gun at the scene?” Sam asked.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tampering with the crime scene.” Alvin’s eyes glinted. The man was clearly unhinged. “Were you trying to make it look like a suicide? Yeah, I figured you’d try to obscure evidence and eventually dig your own grave by creating evidence agai
nst yourself.”
Sam caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. It was Kevin outside the window. Hopefully, he’d seen the situation they were in. If it were Sam out there, he’d go around back, pray that the back door was unlocked, and sneak up behind Alvin, whose back was to the kitchen. Hopefully, Kevin would do the same.
“And what about Scott Elliott?” Sam needed to keep Alvin talking, distracting him in case Kevin did sneak in the back as he hoped.
Alvin scoffed. “That candy ass? He got nervous, and I had to stop him from talking.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked. “Did he run when you shot Dupont? We found his print in the woods.”
“Nah, he didn’t run. We came to the mill in separate cars in case any of those busybody neighbors saw anything. We figured the more cars, the better to make it more confusing. His car was parked down the dirt road at the end of the path. Mine was on Bartlett Street. We came in through the woods and snuck out the same way.”
“So you pulled the trigger and took the evidence on Thorne that Dupont had,” Sam said.
“Then I left the gun to frame you. I saw you moved it when I noticed the photos at the police station. I figured you would. How stupid.”
“What about Tyler Richardson? Did you kill him too?”
“Yeah, that stupid Scott Elliott got real nervous about that one too.” Alvin was almost boasting now. “But Richardson had to be dealt with. He was causing a problem for the big guy.”
“Thorne?” Sam asked.
“Maybe. Maybe I’m the big guy. Enough talk. Now I need to figure out how to stage this.”
“Stage?”
“Yeah. You guys were trying to frame me for Dupont’s murder. See, you and Sergeant Harris here killed him. You were all dealing drugs together, along with Tyler Richardson. Corruption in the police ranks. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
The back door cracked open silently. Kevin slipped inside and tiptoed toward Alvin, his gun leveled at the postmaster’s head.