Secrets, Lies & Alibis

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “How about the men who came to the club? Any of them take a fancy to Megan and get upset because she turned him down?”

  She frowned and picked up a pen. “A lot of guys requested her as their personal fitness trainer. Megan was an awesome trainer, but, to be blunt, I think most of them were, you know, trying to get in her pants.”

  Kevin leaned back in his chair. “Did any of them succeed?”

  “Megan had a few male friends she liked to hang out with. I don’t think she was sleeping with any of them, but she definitely made it known that she was available.”

  “How did she do that?”

  “You know, she would always mention she was single. It’s easy for guys to get the wrong impression around here. Megan was really personable and she would tell them things like, ‘Hey, your bod is looking rad. Keep it up.’ Part of our job is to play to our clients’ egos and keep them happy.”

  Mac gave Kevin a churlish grin.

  “Yes, well, can you think of any members from the club she dated recently?”

  “There were a couple of guys she met with on and off, for drinks and stuff. I don’t think there was any major love connection or anything. Just Tim.”

  “That would be Tim Morris?”

  “Right.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “He’s okay, likes to hit on the girls when he comes into town to make his pitch. See those four rows of stationary cable resistance machines? Those are Tim’s product line. They isolate target muscle groups—pretty cool really.”

  “Sounds as though you don’t think much of Tim.”

  “He’s okay, I guess. He asked me out once, but I was like, no thanks, Grandpa. Just because he has bucks, he thinks a gal is going to go for him.” She licked her glossy hot pink lips. “Megan didn’t pay much attention to him at first. She thought he was just a salesman until I told her Tim owned a company and was a multimillionaire. Then she decided to fall in love.” Meredith shrugged.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be so cynical. Maybe she really loved the guy.

  Whatever, you know, they seemed happy.”

  “Did she mention her engagement or wedding plans to you?”

  “Are you kidding? That’s all she talked about. She was always showing off this massive ring he gave her. She had it all planned out, the wedding, the move to Florida, and the kids she planned to have.”

  “How did Megan act toward the other men in the club after her engagement?”

  “The same, as far as I could tell. She didn’t miss a beat.”

  “How about contacts outside of the club? Did she continue to date anyone that you were aware of?”

  “No. Well, I’m not sure. There was this one guy she was interested in, said he had asked her out and she didn’t know what to do because of Tim. I can’t remember if they were engaged by then. He was kind of cute, but I’ve only seen him a couple of times.”

  “Do you remember the name?”

  “No, I’m not very good at names. He was already bulked up— about six feet, maybe two hundred pounds. Looked like he had been lifting for a while.”

  “Can you tell me more about him?”

  “He had dark skin—looked like he spent a lot of time in the sun ’cause I think he was white—or he might have been Native American. He had long black hair down to his shoulders and wore it tied up in the back when he was in the gym. I’d say he was in his late thirties.”

  “So he was a member here.”

  “I think so.”

  “Is there any way we could get this guy’s name?”

  “I’d have to ask the manager. We can’t really give out client information.”

  “It would be a big help to us,” Kevin replied. “We’re up against the wall for time here. We’d like to find the guy responsible for Megan’s death so we’re checking out any lead, no matter how small it may seem.”

  “Tell you what: Leave me your number and I’ll see what I can do. I know he had a photo taken for the membership orientation, so I bet I have him on the computer. I’ll scroll down the pictures entered in the last couple of months and see if I can recognize him.”

  “That would be great, and let us know if you recognize anyone else who took a special interest in Megan. Here’s my card.” Kevin wrote down a phone number on the back. “This is my pager number. Please give me a call if you turn up anything.”

  Meredith took the card and cupped it in her hand. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Before we go, can you think of anything else that might be of interest to us?”

  “Not really. I mean, we were, like, good friends at work and stuff but we didn’t really hang out when our shift ended. I went to school and she took off to do her thing.”

  “Okay. We appreciate your cooperation.” Turning to Mac he said, “Do you have anything?”

  “Not right now. Thanks for your help.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. My shift ended for the day. I just have to wrap up a few things with my trainee and get down to Mount Hood Community College for an afternoon class. Could you tell me, I mean, maybe I don’t want to know . . . Did Megan suffer much? I mean, was she abused or raped?”

  Mac deferred the question to Kevin.

  His partner pursed his lips and looked out at the gym. “Let’s just say we believe it was very unpleasant and we want to catch the person or persons responsible.”

  “I still can’t believe it. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to people you know.” Her deep brown eyes caught Mac’s. “Is there a possibility I could be in danger too? I mean, if the guy is from here and is taking the stuff we say the wrong way . . .”

  Wanting to reassure her, Mac said, “There’s no reason to think that.”

  She nodded and put Kevin’s card in the bag she pulled out of her desk drawer. “Well, I hope you catch the creep.”

  “So do we, more than you can imagine,” Kevin reached across the desk to shake Meredith’s hand. “Thank you for your time.”

  When Meredith left, Mac took the opportunity to pick up his gum off the floor, throwing it in the garbage can beside her desk.

  “Sounds like Megan was popular with the guys,” Mac said as he and Kevin walked to the car.

  “That makes this caper all the more difficult. Hopefully we can eliminate some folks tomorrow on the polygraph and start to narrow our focus. We still have a few high school kids to track down from the Oxbow Mountain purse-stealing incident. I’ll ask Eric to get Philly and Russ to bring Brandon King in for the poly tomorrow.”

  “It’ll be interesting to see whether or not Reed shows up.”

  “Yeah. Let’s head back to the P.D. We may call it a day after we meet up with Eric and the gang.”

  “What about the tip we got from the jeweler who called about Megan’s earrings?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. Guess I’m just anxious to get home. How about we set that up for tomorrow or the next day?”

  They drove in silence for several minutes. Mac couldn’t stop thinking about Meredith’s comment about her being in danger too. He sipped his watered-down soda from a straw and finally spoke. “You know, Kevin, Meredith might be right. She could be in danger and our killer could be a psycho who works out at the center or even one of the guys who work there.”

  “I was thinking the same thing, partner.” Kevin folded his arms and fixed his gaze on the traffic ahead of them. “Which means we better come up with a solid lead—and soon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The sun was especially hot when Mac and Kevin pulled into the Troutdale P.D. parking lot. Late August to the first part of September were Oregon’s warmest weeks. Even so, the temperatures had soared well above average.

  “Man, it’s hot.” Mac tossed his jacket in the backseat of the car and tugged on the back of his dress shirt, where moisture dripped down his back. “Feels more like the Midwest than the Northwest.”

  Kevin agreed as they entered the building. “What I’d give to be sitting on the sand in Cannon B
each right now, watching the surf roll in.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Images of running on the beach with cool westerly breezes blowing in his face filled Mac’s head. They grudgingly climbed the stairs to the briefing room, where Philly was seated at the table with Eric.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Hardy Boys.” Philly fanned his face with a folded newspaper. “Have you and junior solved this caper, Kev, so I can get out of here?”

  “Not even close. We’re hooking up one red herring after another. Everybody looks good at this point.”

  “No kidding.” Philly leaned back in the chair, lessening the bulge over his belt but widening his berth. “You might as well stick a fork in me, ’cause this old boy is done.” Philly placed his hands behind his head, displaying stained underarms with today’s sweat ring extending an inch lower than the previous one.

  “Where’s Russ?” Kevin asked as he and Mac sat down on the opposite side of the table.

  “He ran some evidence to the lab. I think we’re going to call it for today.” He picked up a half-full bottle of water and glugged it down.

  “Speaking of evidence, Mac and I took a metal detector out to the body dumpsite today and found a broken chain. We were hoping her engagement ring would be there, but no such luck. As I already told Eric, we do have a description of her ring, though. The fiancé gave it to us. We’ll send that around to the pawnshops and hope the killer tries to sell it.”

  Kevin made an entry in his notebook, indicating he had transferred the evidence to Eric.

  Philly sat up in his chair and tugged the front of his shirt away from his distended belly. “Why are you just taking the metal detector out today? If you guys had done the crime scene right the first time, you wouldn’t have had to go back.” The smirk on his face told Mac the guy was in his joking mode. “I knew I shouldn’t let you bumblers work without my supervision.”

  “Supervision?” Kevin mocked a deep frown. “Oh, you mean like that crime scene out in Silverton?”

  “All right. King’s X.”

  Mac winced at the use of the familiar phrase used in police circles. When someone was about to tell a story on you, saying “King’s X” reminded him of a story you could tell on him. Police loved having dirt on each other. Eric had a lot of dirt on Mac. He hoped he wouldn’t feel compelled to use it.

  Philly tossed the rolled-up newspaper at Kevin. Kevin caught it and tossed it back. It bounced off Philly’s stomach and landed on the floor.

  Mac tapped his pen on the table. “What crime scene is that?”

  “Never mind,” Philly said. “I make one mistake and these guys haunt me with it for the rest of my life.”

  “You should have been there, Mac.” Kevin chuckled. “We had a great shoe imprint outside the bedroom window of a stabbing victim and Philly walked right through the middle of it drinking his milk shake.”

  “If you guys had marked your evidence better, that might not have happened.” Philly grunted as he stretched over to pick up the newspaper.

  “Luckily we still made that one,” Eric told Mac. “A sixteen-year-old kid stabbed a ninety-year-old guy to death for about twenty dollars in cash. Philly redeemed himself by tracking down the kid and getting a confession.”

  “I rest my case,” Philly said. “Another dirt bag behind bars because the master was on the case.”

  “All right, you guys, let’s get back to this case.” Eric handed them several sheets of paper. Tim’s itinerary was on the top.

  “Thought I’d better give you copies of this stuff to carry with you in case something breaks. The fiancé’s itinerary, the ATM stuff— also, I pulled out several viable tips I thought were worth checking out. There’s a jeweler who has Megan’s earrings. Who knows?

  Maybe he saw the ring and got greedy.”

  “We’ve got that penciled in for tomorrow,” Kevin reported.

  “Good. You can read over the rest and let me know what you think tomorrow.” He leaned back against the table and folded his thin freckled arms. “Philly, what did you and Russ come up with on the ATM use?”

  “Nada. Zilch.” Philly licked his index finger and flipped over a page in his notebook. “As you know, the videotape at Plaid Pantry had been taped over. At Fred Meyer’s in Gresham, the dirt bag used Megan’s card on the fifteenth just before noon. There’s no ATM inside the store, and according to the bank the card was used at the actual checkout counter. The store received the credit for the charge. I guess he bought groceries or something, I’m not sure why it came to exactly fifty dollars.”

  “Maybe he bought something and got some cash back,” Mac suggested.

  “That’s what we figured. The store has those debit machines on the counter that you just swipe your card through. The teller doesn’t ask for identification as long as the personal identification number is good. The store recycles its videotapes every week so we struck out on that one too.”

  “How about the charges later in the day at the ATM inside Clackamas Mall?” Kevin asked.

  “I was getting to that, if you’d keep your shorts on.” Philly referred to his notes again. “The card was used after three in the afternoon at a machine near the top of the escalator close to the ice rink. The perp tried to take out two hundred bucks, although the account was down by then. He tried a second attempt a few minutes later for a hundred bucks and got the cash. That’s the last use on the card. Once again, no camera in the machine, no videotape from the mall.”

  Eric examined the bank records on the printout. “Okay, a video of the guy would have been nice, but we can’t use what we don’t have. So here’s what we do have: The withdrawals were made after the sister reported her missing. That means either Megan was being forced to use her debit card by the bad guy, which is unlikely due to the public places it was used, or—and I’d have to go with this one—the perp somehow got her PIN number and she was already dead or at least in captivity.”

  They all agreed. Kevin added, “I think it’s safe to assume Megan Tyson was dead by two in the morning on August fourteenth. That’s consistent with the use of her card and the opinion of the medical examiner on the state of her remains.”

  “What next?” Philly asked no one in particular.

  Kevin deferred to Eric. “It’s your call, buddy, but I’d like Mac and me to stay on Gordon Reed and Tim Morris. We’ll also follow up on some of the other leads we’ve gotten. There are several people we need to talk to.”

  “Yeah,” Mac muttered, “like a whole health club full.”

  “What about the high school kids from Oxbow Mountain— the purse thieves?” Eric asked.

  “Russ and I could work that end,” Philly offered.

  “Sounds okay to me.” Eric rubbed his chin as he stood up. “Are Gordon and Tim still taking the box in the morning?”

  “Gordon is coming in at eight, at least we hope so,” Kevin answered. “We need to make sure the examiner is here by then.”

  “Detective Thomas is still a go,” Eric replied.

  “Good. We should schedule Brandon King after Gordon and then Tim so there’s no chance the two men come into contact.”

  “Humph.” Philly sneered. “You ought to get the two of them in here to butt heads. Maybe they’ll take each other out and save us the trouble.”

  “You are a real beaut, you know, Philly?” Kevin shook his head.

  “He hasn’t changed a bit since we worked the road together, Mac.

  Except that his belt is bigger than it was fifteen years ago.”

  Philly patted his stomach. “I have big bones.”

  Mac laughed and shook his head. “You guys are something else. Don’t you ever quit?”

  “Yeah.” Eric glanced at his watch. “Right about now. Let’s call it a day.” Turning to Philly, he said, “I’d like you and Russ to get Brandon King in here tomorrow morning.”

  “You got it. Just pull the Hardy Boys’ report on their interview so I can track down the little delinquent and give him a talkin’ to.

 
I’m heading for Murphy’s. I could use a drink. I’d ask you to join me, but I already know the answer.” He winked at Mac. “These two are a couple of teetotalers.”

  “I think I’ll have a cool one when I get home,” Kevin said. “A nice tall glass of Jean’s sun tea.”

  “That’s what I thought, Mary Poppins. How ’bout you, Mac, want to tip a few drinks?” Philly asked.

  The invitation surprised Mac. “No, thanks, I’m going home too.” That wasn’t exactly true. He could have stopped by, but Mac didn’t drink. His father had taught him well on that score. Even if he did, he wouldn’t relish the thought of hanging out with Philly for the next couple of hours.

  “Ah, Kevin.” Philly sadly shook his head. “You’ve already converted the kid? That’s a record, isn’t it?” He sighed and shuffled out of the room. “Okay, suit yourself. I’ll call Russ; he’s always good to go.”

  Eric stacked the tip forms on the desk then reached for his jacket. “Let’s go, then. My lovely bride is waiting at home and she’s a heck of a lot more pleasant to be around than you two. Hopefully our team will wrap up the murder in Salem, so we get some bodies back. Oh, that reminds me—Sarge called from Hawaii today to check on the case. He said he’s having a heck of a good time, wanted to thank us for taking this off his plate so he could go.”

  “That’s great,” Kevin said. “Is he still coming back next weekend?”

  “Looks like it. I hope we have this thing on the way to an arrest by the time he gets home so he can ease back into the routine.”

  “That would be nice.” Kevin collected his briefcase. “Say, did we get the warrant to search Reed’s place?”

  “Yep. I’ll get someone out there tomorrow—maybe while he’s here. Thought it might be best to wait on the search until we got him in here.”

  “Good thinking,” Kevin said.

  “I’ll see you two bright and early,” Eric said. “Seven-thirty okay with you, Mac?”

  “I’ll be here.” Mac picked up his briefcase as well and joined the men as they headed for the door. Unlike the others, Mac was in no hurry to go home. He’d have preferred to keep working, following up on tips that would eventually lead to Megan Tyson’s killer.