Secrets, Lies & Alibis

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Kevin took another sip of coffee as he looked through his notes. “We also talked to the guy who admitted to stealing Megan’s purse on August eighth—a kid named Brandon King. He claims he took her gas card, debit card, and a few bills and then threw everything else into the fire, keys and all. He’s not too bright—didn’t even recognize the thousand-dollar diamond necklace inside the purse, so he chucked it in the fire too.” He looked at Eric. “By the way, we need to send someone out to Oxbow Mountain to see if anyone turned in a diamond necklace. I can give you a pretty good description of the area the kids were in that night. Diamonds won’t burn in a small bonfire, so let’s hope it’s either still in the ashes or that someone was honest enough to turn it in.”

  “Got it,” said Eric, jotting down the info in his notebook.

  Kevin flipped the pages in his police notebook. “Megan was engaged to be married this month on . . .” He paused and glanced at Mac.

  “August thirty-first,” Mac said.

  “Thanks, on August thirty-first to a guy named Tim Morris, who designs and sells athletic equipment to health clubs. The couple was to reside back in Florida after the wedding. From what Cindy says he’s well off financially.”

  Kevin took another sip of coffee. “We learned from the sister that Megan had dated several men prior to and during her engagement to Morris, one as recently as a week prior to her death.”

  “My kind of girl,” Philly chimed in from the back of the room.

  “What, two legs and a pulse?” Russ commented. The detectives burst into laughter.

  Kevin glared at them, obviously not amused. “Cindy didn’t think much of the guy. Name’s Gordon, and he’s reported to be roofing the new strip mall here in town. Mac and I will be heading over there in a few minutes to see if we can track him down.

  “This guy’s a good lead for us.” Kevin went on to tell them about the stolen purse and the interviews they’d had with Rachel and Brandon, placing Megan at Oxbow Mountain a week prior to her disappearance. “Both Cindy and Brandon have agreed to take polygraphs, so we’ll want to get them lined up with the polygraph detective tomorrow.”

  Kevin slapped his notebook against his hand. “Things are moving pretty fast. Lots of leads. After we talk to this Gordon fellow this morning, Mac and I will be picking up the sister and taking her to the airport to meet the fiancé, who’s flying in from Florida. We’ll try to get them lined up to take polygraphs too.”

  “Sounds good.” Eric moved up front. “I’ll call the polygraph detective right away. Not much else to report. The rest of the crew will get to work on the tips coming in. We’ve got about a hundred already, with a lot of the usual Elvis sightings and helpful citizens calling in. Kevin, there is one tip you and Mac might want to check out. A guy called saying Megan had commissioned him to design and make a set of earrings to go with a necklace she’d planned on wearing to the wedding. He reported seeing her two days before she’d disappeared. He’d been trying to get hold of the sister to let her know he had the earrings done but hadn’t had any luck.”

  Eric covered his mouth and turned aside to cough. “Also, the credit report finally came in along with the bank’s authorization to access Megan’s account records. It appears she received a temporary ATM and debit card combination after her purse was stolen. They’ll be sending a transaction printout. Hopefully we’ll get that by tomorrow. If someone used her card at an ATM we may get lucky and get our killer on tape. I’ll put Russ and Philly on that detail as soon as I get the info.”

  “You got it, boss,” Philly replied.

  “We’re going to take off, Eric,” Kevin started toward the door.

  “We need to see if we can track down this Gordon character.”

  “Keep me advised, Kev. Let me know when you guys get done with this morning’s interviews.”

  Mac and Kevin jogged down the stairs. “Do you know where that new mall is going in off the freeway, Mac?”

  “Sure do. I’ll drive.”

  Minutes later, the detectives pulled up in front of the construction project and were stopped by a security guard holding a clipboard. Kevin rolled down his window.

  “Morning.” The guard bent down, exaggerating a stomach that would have given Philly some serious competition.

  Kevin showed his identification. “Morning. I’m Detective Kevin Bledsoe with the state police.”

  The guard brought the clipboard to his side. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re looking for a guy who might be working on the roof.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. The roofer is J. B. Collins—Collins Roofing. His crew is already up top.” He pointed to the ladder.

  “Thanks. Do you know who’s in charge?”

  “Nope, but I’d lay odds the owner isn’t here—foreman either— seeing as it’s a Sunday. None of them would be working if the project wasn’t so far behind. Why are you asking?”

  “Just looking to talk to a fellow,” Kevin assured him. “Nothing big.”

  The guard stepped back into the small building. “You can park in that lot over there. Just be careful.”

  “Will do,” Kevin said.

  Mac parked beside a flatbed truck and had barely come to a stop when Kevin climbed out of the car. “I’m heading up the ladder to see if this guy is up top. Wait here in case he bolts. Stay far enough back so you can see me on the roof.”

  “You got it, partner.” Mac’s adrenaline had been running along normally until Kevin indicated there might be trouble. Now his heart hammered in his chest, keeping rhythm with the sound of the jackhammer rat-tat-tatting somewhere in the construction zone. This guy could well be their killer.

  Kevin leaned back into the car. “Um . . . just a word of caution, Mac. We don’t have anything to hold this guy on at this point. We just want to get a statement from him. I don’t want to scare him off by Mirandizing him. We want to make sure he doesn’t feel like he’s in custody. He needs to know he’s free to leave so we don’t run into any static if he gives us good statements. If he looks like our guy, we’ll go ahead and read him his rights.”

  Kevin started up the ladder, hoping the guy they were looking for was working. He climbed to the top of the one-story complex. As his head cleared the roof, he spotted a five-man tar crew spreading the sticky black substance in the far corner of the building. The pungent smell of the hot tar made his eyes water.

  A kid covered in black soot came toward him. “Hey, this place is off-limits.” He didn’t look to be much older than eighteen, but the guy was clearly in charge.

  “Not to me.” Kevin reached into his pocket for his badge. “I’m Detective Bledsoe with the Oregon State Police.”

  He shrugged. “Can I help you?”

  “Maybe. I’m looking for a guy named Gordon. I was told he might be working out here?”

  “He might be. What do you want with him? Is he in trouble?”

  “No. I was hoping he’d have some information that will help me with a case I’m working on.”

  “Yeah, I bet.” He turned around and yelled. “Hey, Gordy, you got company.”

  A man with a slight build who was working in the corner about twenty feet from where Kevin stood turned and looked at the detective. He put down his tar brush and removed his rubber gloves, set them on an air-conditioning unit, and headed toward the ladder. He had a heavy beard, and Kevin had a hard time telling where his facial hair stopped and the soot ended. He was only about five-six and about 150 pounds. He had on jeans and a wide leather belt with a western-style silver buckle.

  “Gordon, this guy says he’s a detective.”

  Kevin produced his badge and introduced himself. “I’m working on a case, and I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me and my partner down in the car. You’re not in trouble or anything, but I think you might be able to help us out.”

  “I’m kinda busy right now. Can’t it wait?” His gaze darted to the kid beside him.

  “This is pretty important.”
/>   “Go ahead and take five, Gordo,” the kid told him.

  “Thanks.”

  Kevin frowned. The kid looked too young to be a supervisor.

  Heck, everyone looked too young these days. The price one paid for growing older.

  Gordon used his arm to wipe his face, leaving a streak of dirty flesh. When the guy lifted his arm, Kevin got a look at his belt and the knife secured in a leather sheath.

  Chapter Twenty

  We’ll be more comfortable on the ground,” Kevin told Gordon. And if you try to pull anything with that knife, he thought, we’ll be on even footing. Ordinarily he’d have secured the knife, but it looked to be the type of large box cutter or utility knife a roofer might carry to cut tar paper or shingles. Which, he reminded himself, is more than ample for cutting a throat. He’d let it go for the moment, as he didn’t want to scare the guy too much. The guy might be a big catch, and Kevin hoped to keep him cooperative.

  “Sure.” Gordon didn’t sound any too pleased, but at least he was cooperating. For now.

  “Hey, I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me and my partner, Gordon.” Kevin began descending the ladder with Gordon following his lead.

  “No problem. You gonna tell me what this is all about?”

  “Yeah, let me introduce you to my partner first.” Mac was standing next to the car when the two walked up. “Gordon, this is my partner, Detective Mac McAllister.”

  Mac nodded, keeping his arms folded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your last name.”

  “Reed. Gordon Reed.”

  Kevin, who was standing behind Gordon, gave Mac a thumbsup sign. “Let’s sit in the car so we can hear over the generator. Hop in the backseat with me.”

  Mac winced. No way did he want that smelly dirt bag in his car. Not that he had much choice.

  “Sounds good to me.” Gordon rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Hard work.”

  “Looks like it.” Kevin climbed into the backseat with Gordon while Mac eased himself into the driver’s seat.

  Kevin took the lead. “Gordon, I just want to make a few things clear. Once again, we are both detectives with the state police. You are not under arrest and are free to leave anytime you want.”

  He frowned. “Yeah, but . . . I don’t understand what this is all about.”

  “We’ll get to that. Detective McAllister and I are currently working a homicide investigation. The victim’s name is Megan Tyson. Ring a bell with you?”

  Gordon flinched then seemed to recover. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? I figured you guys would show up eventually.”

  Kevin shot Mac a look, warning him to be ready in case the guy pulled anything.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with her getting killed. I mean, if someone’s trying to frame me or something. We were just friends, you know?”

  “Why would you think someone wanted to frame you, Gordon?”

  He shrugged. “Her sister didn’t like me. She’s the one who told you I went out with Megan, right?”

  “Why don’t you tell us what you know about Megan?”

  “Do you think I should get a lawyer before I say anything?”

  “You tell me, Gordon.” Kevin leaned nonchalantly into the corner and picked a piece of lint off his trousers. “If you murdered Megan, then I think you should probably get one. If not, you might want to save your money and my time.” Kevin studied Gordon’s face for any sign of emotion. Something about the anxious look in the guy’s eyes and the way he didn’t make eye contact put him right up there in the suspect category. It’s too soon, he reminded himself. Way too soon.

  “Hey, I got nothin’ to hide. What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about your relationship with Megan Tyson and the last time you had contact with her.”

  “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Tell us when and where you met Megan.”

  He smoothed his mustache. “I met her about two months ago when I went up to Murphy’s Tavern after work to hang out. She was in there by herself and looking pretty hot so I started talking to her. She was kinda standoffish at first, but after I bought her a few drinks, she loosened up and gave me her phone number.”

  “She was alone that night?”

  “Yep, all by her lonesome.”

  “And where was this pub?” Kevin asked.

  “Right there. Murphy’s.” Gordon pointed to the building directly across the street. “Some of the guys started drinking there after work when we started this project a few months ago.”

  “Did you consider her your girlfriend?”

  “I wish. I met her at the pub a few times. We danced and made out some. Then one weekend she shows up at the pub wearing this big diamond engagement ring. She never mentioned this guy to me, and all of a sudden she’s getting married and moving to Florida.” Gordon shrugged, but his expression seemed pained.

  “Did she say much about her boyfriend?”

  “Just that he was some rich dude and had a cool house. She really threw it in my face, you know. It was like, ‘Buy me some drinks and dance with me ’cause I’m getting married and I want to celebrate.’ I told her where she could take her celebrating. ‘Buy your own drinks,’ I said. Then I took off.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I don’t remember. It wasn’t that big a deal. I probably went home and got drunk.”

  “How old are you, Gordon?”

  “Thirty-three. Why?”

  “We just need your stats for our report.” Kevin thought the guy looked closer to fifty.

  “Do you do drugs, Gordon?” Drugs had a way of hardening people. And guys on drugs could do some bizarre things.

  “No way. My shrink has me on Zoloft for depression, but I’m clean.”

  Kevin jotted that down on his notepad. An antidepressant and alcohol—not a nice mix. “How about Megan? Did she do drugs?”

  Gordon glanced toward the door. “I don’t know. When she was with me, she just drank beer.”

  He was lying, but Kevin decided not to call him on it. At least not yet. “Okay, you went home mad. Was that the last time you saw her?”

  “No. She called me about two weeks later saying she wanted to go out.”

  “Do you remember the date?”

  “I have no clue. Just that it was a workday. I know because I called in sick the next morning.”

  “Could we check with your boss and verify the date you called in sick? It would be helpful if we could establish a timeline.”

  “Sure, be my guest. Just don’t say anything that might get me fired.”

  Kevin nodded. “Okay. Go on with your story. She called you and wanted to go out.”

  “Right. I called Megan back at her apartment, but her sister answered. I asked for Megan and then I heard them arguing. I know the sister doesn’t like me, doesn’t think I’m good enough for Megan.” Gordon’s eyes narrowed in defiance.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “According to her I’m a psycho doper who slaps tar for a living.”

  From what he’d seen so far, Kevin would have to agree. “So you called and asked to talk to Megan. Then what?”

  “Megan comes on the line and acts like she’s my best friend. She starts telling me she’s having second thoughts about getting married. She wants to go have some drinks and I figure, why not? I told her my car was acting up, so she would have to drive.”

  “And did she pick you up?”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t believe it. Here, the chick doesn’t pay me the time of day for weeks, and now she wants to hang out with me. I say, heck, maybe she wants to sow some wild oats or something. Who am I to say no to a lady, right?” Gordon chuckled.

  You’re a real prince, aren’t you? Kevin let the remark pass. “Was Megan alone when she came to pick you up?”

  “Yeah, she came alone. She drove her convertible, had the top down. She was lookin’ pretty fine. I wasn’t looking too bad myself. I had on my new boots and
Wrangler jeans.” He glanced at Mac, then at Kevin. “I don’t always look like this, you know.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Kevin said. “Was Megan wearing any jewelry?”

  “Just this cross necklace she always wore. She said her dad gave it to her. Oh yeah, and she was wearing that big engagement ring too, except she had it on her right hand. I didn’t bring it up because I didn’t want to upset her.”

  “Did you leave your place right away?”

  “Yeah. Went to a joint just outside of town—I don’t remember the name. I already had a pretty good beer buzz and didn’t want to lose it. We went down to the pub and had a couple of beers each.”

  “Did you talk with anyone else that night?”

  “No, man.” He grinned. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She acted like I was the only guy on the earth. She was totally into me. We line-danced to some country music, danced the slow songs. It was great, man.” Gordon smiled at the memory.

  Kevin shuddered at the thought of Megan dancing with this lowlife. But maintaining his professionalism, he asked, “What happened then?”

  “At about nine or ten, we went down to the Country Inn Restaurant in town. I left because the bartender wouldn’t serve me.

  Said I was drunk. Megan had a Long Island iced tea before we cruised.”

  “Where did you go from there?”

  “Over to the Safeway store in Troutdale. I bought a six-pack of ale—she likes that fancy expensive stuff. We sat in the parking lot of the store and drank the six-pack. I rubbed her feet and we talked.”

  “What did you talk about?” Kevin almost wished they’d taken the guy downtown. The car was getting hot and smelly. The guy’s attitude made his stomach churn.