Twenty-Six
Walt didn’t need one of the officers to drive him back to Marlow House after Brian finished the interview and told him he could go. Danielle was already at the police station, sitting in the waiting area. On their ride home, Walt told her all that had happened since he had last seen her.
“I’m sorry about sending Eva over there to check on you without first thinking it through,” Danielle said when they returned home. She helped Walt out of the car, and together they made their way to the kitchen door. Before leaving to get Walt, Danielle had turned on the back-porch light. It broke the darkness of the side yard.
“I should have remembered what you told me about the two-way mirror. I was tired. Too much going on,” Walt explained as he hobbled into the house.
“I just figured Eva would get there before me. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Walt chuckled. “Neither of us was thinking clearly. It was a long night.”
Danielle locked the back door and turned off the porch light. “We should both try to get some sleep.”
“I’m just hoping I don’t regret drinking coffee at the station. I’m still learning how this body reacts to things like caffeine.”
“My problem is not caffeine. I’m exhausted, but not sure I’ll be able to fall asleep. After all, there was a killer in this house.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Marie said as she appeared in the kitchen the next moment.
“Marie? What are you doing back here?” Danielle asked.
“I just thought, if it were me, I’d be terrified to go back home and try to sleep knowing such a grizzly event had happened under my roof just a few hours earlier. So I thought I’d come keep an eye on things so you two can get some sleep. If someone tries to break in, I’ll wake you up. And of course, if necessary, I can raise Chris or Heather for additional help.”
Danielle grinned at Marie and found it endearing how this image of a petite silver-haired elderly woman was their security guard. “If I could, I’d hug you right now!”
Brian was still sitting in Joe’s office with him when the call came in. He knew it was about the fingerprints found on the gun, but by hearing just Joe’s side of the conversation, he couldn’t tell who the fingerprints belonged to—yet they had obviously been identified.
“Well? Is it someone we know?” Brian asked when Joe hung up the phone.
“I know her—but not well,” Joe told him.
“Her?” Brian frowned.
“Laverne Morrison.”
“Laverne Morrison?” Brian repeated.
Joe nodded his reply. “You know her, don’t you?”
Brian let out a low whistle and leaned back in the chair. “I worked on the arson case when her family’s house burned down. That was years ago. I see her around town once in a while, but don’t really know her.”
“Arson? I remember hearing what happened, but I thought it was some electrical fire, not arson.”
Brian shrugged. “In the beginning we suspected arson. I guess I always think of that case as arson, but yes, you’re right, they eventually ruled it was caused by faulty wiring from a space heater.”
“I don’t know her well, but murder? And how does she even know our victim?” Joe asked.
“Danielle told us his cousins live in Astoria. And she mentioned Adam knew them in high school. The name is familiar to me, but I can’t really place them. I do remember Laverne’s brother used to hang out with Adam back then. Maybe there is some connection there.”
“I need to get someone over to Astoria and talk to the cousins,” Joe said.
“I’ll bring Morrison in for questioning.” Brian glanced at his watch and groaned. “Why do murders happen at the most inconvenient times? I should be getting off in about an hour.”
Considering sunrise was at least two hours away, Brian had expected Laverne Morrison’s house to be dark. It wasn’t. The light in the living room was on, and he could see someone was inside watching television. Moments after ringing the doorbell, the light and television went off. When she didn’t answer the door, he rang the doorbell again—then again. It wasn’t until he knocked and said, “Ms. Morrison, it’s the police,” did she open the door.
Officer Brian Henderson sat with Laverne Morrison in the interrogation room. Unlike Walt Marlow, she hadn’t needed to change her clothes before coming to the station. She was already dressed in street clothes when Brian had arrived.
“Why did it take you so long to answer your door?” Brian asked as he shuffled through the papers in the file folder before him.
Laverne shrugged. “I’m a woman living alone. It’s frightening to have someone ring your bell in the middle of the night. Why am I here?”
“I have some questions I need to ask you,” he told her.
“In the middle of the night?”
He looked up from the papers. “You certainly weren’t dressed as if it were the middle of the night. Do you always stay up so late?”
She shrugged again. “I went out with friends. When I got home, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Where did you go tonight?”
She frowned. “Why is that important?”
“Could you please just answer my question.”
“Went to see a show with friends. They picked me up around seven. The show started at seven thirty.” She then mentioned her friends’ names and the movie they had seen.
“One of your friends drove?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And she brought you home?”
“Umm…no. I asked her to drop me off so I could get something to eat.”
“Then how did you get home?” he asked.
“I called a taxi.” She chuckled and added, “I guess they don’t really call them taxis anymore. One of those independent services in town.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t remember. I got the number off a flyer at the restaurant.”
“What restaurant did you stop at?” he asked.
“Pier Café. I had pie and ice cream. I’m sure Carla will remember. She’s a waitress there.”
Brian stared blankly at Laverne. “Yes, I know who Carla is. So why didn’t your friends want to join you at Pier Café?”
“I’m not sure why you’re asking all these questions. What is this about?” she asked impatiently.
“Please answer my question.”
Laverne released a sigh born of exasperation and said, “Because they all wanted to go to another bar and have more to drink.”
“Another bar?”
“Yes. After the movie, we stopped to get something to drink. I’m not much of a drinker, and after the third bar, I wanted to go home. But there were several bars between where we were and my house, so I asked them to just drop me off at the pier. I had some pie, called a driver, and then went home. Now please, what is this about?”
Brian removed a photograph from the file and slid it across the tabletop to Laverne.
Laverne glanced down at the photograph and froze. Her eyes widened. With a squeaky voice she asked, “Is he dead?”
“Do you know who he is?” Brian asked, his eyes focused on Laverne’s reaction.
She cleared her throat and nodded. “It’s Mac. Mac Bandoni. What happened to him?”
“How do you know him?” Brian asked, noting how she continued to stare at the photograph.
“I…I dated Mac for a few months one summer. A couple of years after I graduated from high school.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Still studying the photograph, she tilted her head slightly. A single tear slipped down her face. “Friday. But before then, I hadn’t seen him since we stopped seeing each other. If you would have shown me this picture last week, I would never have recognized him. He changed, you know. Was actually quite attractive back then,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
“You say you saw him Friday. How did that come about?”
Several more tears began sliding down h
er cheeks. She looked up at Brian and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “I ran into him when I was in Astoria making a delivery for work.”
“Where was this at?”
Laverne sat up straighter in her chair, attempting to regain her composure. “I…I had stopped to get something to eat. I saw him at the restaurant where I had lunch.”
“How did that meeting go?”
Laverne shrugged. “Nothing I remember worth noting. What do you really say to someone you haven’t seen for years?”
“You said you two once dated—which one of you broke it off?”
She stared at him a moment as if collecting her thoughts. Finally, she said, “I suppose it was me. That was a difficult year. That was the summer my parents were killed.”
“You broke up and never kept in touch? Never saw him again until Friday?”
“Mac didn’t live in Oregon. I met him when he was visiting his grandmother; she lived in Astoria. So I suppose even if I hadn’t been the one to break up, we wouldn’t have dated long. Too much going on in my life back then. Mac loved to travel. He was an artist, really very talented. I believe he lived in Europe after that summer.”
“I thought you didn’t keep in contact with him?”
She shrugged again. “We didn’t. But I’d run into his grandmother sometimes when I was in Astoria. She’d tell me things. But she died a while back.”
Brian pulled a second photo from the file and slid it across the table to Laverne. It was of a handgun. “Do you recognize this?”
Laverne stared at the photo. “It’s a gun.”
“Have you ever seen this gun before?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen guns before, but not sure I could tell one gun from another.” She looked up at Brian. “Is this the one that killed Mac?”
“How do you know Mac was shot?”
“I don’t know. But you just showed me a picture of him, and he looks dead in the photograph. I asked you if he was dead, but you never said. But I’m thinking he must be, or I wouldn’t be in here. And now you show me a picture of a gun and ask me if I recognize it. So I figure it must be what killed him.”
“You say you can’t really tell one gun from another. Can you tell me when was the last time you saw any gun?”
Laverne looked back at the photo and absently licked her lips. She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
“Then can you tell me why your fingerprints are on the gun that killed the man you used to date?”
Laverne looked up at Brian. “I want to talk to an attorney.”
Twenty-Seven
On Sunday morning Laverne remained in custody. Brian and Joe managed to each go home to catch a few hours of sleep while officers on duty ran down some leads for them and interviewed potential witnesses.
Joe arrived back at the station first and was briefed by the officers on duty regarding what they had learned thus far. Brian arrived thirty minutes later, shortly after noon, with take-out food he had picked up to share with Joe. The two sat in the break room eating while Joe updated Brian.
“They talked to the friends Laverne said she went to the show with. That part of the story checks out. But it doesn’t necessarily let Laverne off the hook. The time frame from when they dropped her off at the pier and Carla said she was at the café gives her enough time to shoot Bandoni.”
“What about the car Heather saw?” Brian asked.
Joe shook his head. “It wasn’t the car that took the women to the show and dropped off Laverne. That was a white Suburban.”
“So who was driving the car Heather saw, and is Laverne the person Marlow heard leaving the house and getting into that vehicle?”
“The car Heather saw wasn’t Laverne’s. She drives a four-door. But it does match the description the neighbors gave of the brother’s car.”
“Chet Morrison?” Brian asked.
Joe nodded. “According to one of the neighbors, he drives a beat-up two-door gray sedan. And the neighbor claims he’s heard it backfire a few times.”
Narrowing his eyes in contemplation, Brian sipped the soda through his straw and considered the information. Finally, he said, “So maybe Chet and Laverne are in on this together? She goes out with her friends to establish an alibi, knows they will go bar hopping afterwards, and then has them drop her off at the pier. Her brother picks her up there, drops her at Marlow House, then picks her up after she kills Bandoni and then takes her back to the pier so she can be seen having pie by Carla, therefore supporting her motive for having them drop her off on Danielle’s street.”
“And how do Laverne and her brother know Bandoni is going to be at Marlow House?” Joe asked. “What’s their motive? And is Clint Marlow tangled up in all this?”
“I think we need to talk to the cousins and find Chet Morrison.”
“Unfortunately, still no one at the cousins’ house. But there is a car parked there. According to the registration, it belongs to Macbeth,” Joe told him. “The neighbors claim they haven’t seen anyone there since yesterday afternoon, but one remembers seeing someone matching Macbeth’s description working on the car that’s still parked there. He was under the impression it was broken down. And another claimed a car matching the description of Chet’s was seen parked at the house.”
“You haven’t been able to track down Chet?” Brian asked.
“No. And according to one of Laverne’s neighbors, when she kicked him out the other night, there was some shouting going on. Chet kept banging on her door, demanding she let him in, but he finally left after the neighbor threatened to call the police,” Joe explained.
Brian set his soda on the table and frowned. “If Chet and Laverne were at odds, what are the chances they’d conspire to kill someone just hours after she kicks him out?”
Joe shrugged. “Maybe it was an act? Throw us off? Yet, even if it was an act, what’s the motive?”
“We need to find the cousins and Chet. And keep a close eye on Clint Marlow. He’s involved in this someway, I’m sure of it.”
“What I can’t understand,” Joe began, “why did the killer dump the murder weapon in the bathroom? At first, I assumed Marlow tossed it there in a panic. Not like he had the time to get rid of it, especially being on crutches. It didn’t surprise me his prints weren’t on it. I’d expect him to wipe down the handle before dumping it so close to the crime scene. But if Laverne was the shooter, then why didn’t she take the gun with her? Hell, she went to the pier afterwards. Why not dump the gun in the ocean while she was there?”
“If we can’t find the Bandoni brothers and Chet, we need to talk to someone who knows all of them.” Brian stood up and tossed his now empty soda cup in the trash can.
Melony Carmichael looked more fashion model than criminal attorney, with her silky blond hair, perfect features, manicured nails, and designer clothes. She was having Sunday brunch with Adam Nichols when Officer Brian Henderson found them at Pearl Cove. Brian wasn’t looking for Melony, he wanted to talk to Adam.
Some of the newer Frederickport residents found Adam and Melony an unlikely couple. For years Adam had played the field, and as far as they knew, he had only entered into one long-term relationship, and that had been with quirky Isabella Strickland. His most notable one-night stand had been with Danielle Boatman’s flamboyant cousin, Cheryl. Although, that hadn’t worked out for Adam—or for Cheryl—who had been murdered that night.
Melony was different—she was classy and bright. Not exactly the type of woman Adam normally dated. However, Brian understood the connection. He could remember a much younger Melony Carmichael, an unruly teenager who had defied her parents when she and Adam had run away together. Brian always suspected Melony had been the primary instigator in that rebellion.
After her parents had brought her home, she was sent out of the country to a boarding school, only returning to Frederickport after her mother’s murder.
“I’ve been looking all over town for you,” Brian told Adam when he walked up to
their booth at Pearl Cove. “Don’t you ever answer your cellphone?”
“Not when I don’t want to be bothered,” Adam told him.
Without asking permission, Brian sat down in the booth, forcing Adam to move over to the other side of the bench.
“Hello to you too, Brian,” Melony said with a chuckle as she sipped her mimosa.
“What is so important that you had to interrupt our romantic rendezvous?” Adam asked.
“Ahh, Adam, is that what this is? A romantic rendezvous?” Melony teased. “I thought it’s because you lost that bet.”
“Oh, shut up, Mel,” Adam countered, his tone playful.
“This is serious,” Brian told him, his expression severe.
“I hope so, since you barged in on us,” Adam quipped.
Melony chuckled and took another sip of her mimosa.
“Someone was murdered at Marlow House,” Brian announced.
The smiles disappeared from Melony’s and Adam’s faces.
Melony set her drink on the table. “Is Danielle okay?”
“Yes. It was Macbeth Bandoni. You might have known him as Jim Hill. He was the artist Clint Marlow hired to reproduce the Marlow portraits.”
Adam let out a low whistle and sat back in the bench. “Danielle and I were just talking about him.”
“How so?” Brian asked.
Ever the attorney, Melony shot Adam a look that said be careful what you say. He understood.
Adam shrugged. “I just mentioned Chet Morrison was going to see the Bandoni cousins. She was surprised I knew them. She told me their cousin had been the artist who’d painted the reproductions. I was surprised, because I’d met Mac Bandoni years ago, and when I saw him at Marlow House and was told his name was Jim Hill, I didn’t recognize him.”
“Why would Danielle care if Chet was going to see the Bandoni cousins?” Brian asked.
Adam frowned. “I don’t think she cared.”
“I think what Brian is asking, why were you even discussing Chet with Danielle, am I right, Brian?” Melony asked.
The Ghost of Second Chances Page 17