by Lynn Cooper
“What of it?”
“Right after that, you said, ‘So our accounting department takes care of it.’ That’s Tom’s department, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. He took care of it. He settled both accounts out of court.”
“Hold the phone,” Lonnie says suddenly. “Tom told me the same thing. But, shortly after that, I gave a courtesy call to the union rep to apologize for being tardy with their bonuses. He didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. When I asked Tom about it, he just said I talked to the wrong guy.” He shrugs those massive shoulders. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But now—”
Some of the gleam in Tom’s more-brown-than-green eyes, I notice, is fading away.
Stan walks over in front of his brother and gazes up at him. “Tom, tell me they’re both full of it. She’s still babbling fiction, and he’s trying to save his own skin. Right, Tom?”
“You bet it’s right.” He puts his hands on his older brother’s shoulders. “Stan, you know I’d never do anything to disappoint you. We both have a ton of pride—in this business but even more so in each other. Look at this bunch of pathetic clowns. They’re so clueless, they let a woman who’s not even in law enforcement do their talking. Bottom line, they’re too stupid to solve the murder of one of their own. They don’t want to believe someone in their precious little hick town is capable of it, so they’re trying to pin it on an outsider.”
I can see the war raging in Stan’s bewildered face. He’s being asked to believe his little brother would steal from him. Family will drive you crazy (no one knows better than I), but it’s still family. You back them and defend them and take their part until the wiggle room runs out.
Finally, he nods without conviction and turns toward me.
“I believe him,” Stan says. “But, for the sake of argument, let’s say he did dip into the till. It’s an in-house matter. Our business. It’s half his anyway, so all he’s doing is reaching into the company cookie jar. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Bluff found out what Tom was doing and threatened to tell you. So Tom killed him to keep him quiet.”
“He wouldn’t have to do that,” Stan says. “If he stole the money, which somebody will still have to prove to me. He knows he could come to me about anything. Yeah, we compete. We kid around. We’re brothers. Family. We work things out and move on.”
“Too bad Bluff can’t move on, too,” I say. “He was looking forward to enjoying $1.2 million at the beach with a boat and his babe.” I look at Lonnie. “You’re in the accounting department, Mr. Burke. How much did McCraven Brothers allegedly pay out on the substandard materials lawsuit?”
“Four-hundred seventy-five thousand dollars.”
“And the union bonuses?”
“Seven-hundred twenty-five thousand.”
“Hmm. $1.2 million dollars.”
“Bluff’s blackmail money,” Sheriff Rice says with a sigh. “The town couldn’t afford to pay him and Tug much. You McCravens weren’t obligated to pay them a dime. But our late councilman found a way to make his dreams come true. For a little while, anyway.”
I can see from his expression Stan is quickly losing wiggle room. He turns back to his brother. “Tom?”
“Stan, Stan, don’t let them get to you. They’re just throwing spaghetti against a wall and hoping some of it sticks. They’ve got no proof of any of this. It’s all pure conjecture coming out of the pretty head of a lonely, delusional craftsperson.”
I say, “Thanks for about a third of that. But, we’ve got proof of the murder right here with us.”
Anxiously, Lonnie raises a meaty finger. “Hey, I told you, I don’t know anything about a voice changer or disguiser or whatever it is you found in my car trunk.”
“Relax, Lonnie. With your Mazda Miata sitting at the hotel where Tom conveniently talked you into coming into the station, I would conjecture he had means, motive and opportunity to plant the disguiser in your tire well.”
Darren pushes his tie knot up into place and juts his chin. “So what’s this big proof, Miss Shore? And I’m sure you know because you were in on this murder, just like you were the first two.”
Sighing, I smile at Tom. “It’s wrapped around that small, taut, ripped abdomen of yours. Again, just conjecture on the abs.”
Everyone in the room zeroes in on the thin, leather belt holding up his faded Levis. The same one that seemed so out of place when I first saw it two days ago in Mayor Kwan’s office. All the tan, rugged color drains from Tom’s chiseled face. The glibness is gone now. The cocksure glint in his engaging eyes fades like a smoldering ember. That’s when I know that he knows.
Game over.
Stan glares at him, mirroring his sibling’s same, hopeless expression. “Tom?”
He stares ahead, saying nothing.
“Detective Worthy,” I say, “as our esteemed medical examiner told us, there will be tiny fragments of skin tissue with Bluff’s DNA embedded in the leather fibers of Tom’s belt. Probably fingernail marks as well. He didn’t need to bring a garrote to the mall because he already had a ready one with him.” Walking up to him, I shake my head. “You should have gotten rid of the belt. You’ll have to live the rest of your life in prison knowing it was your arrogance that put you there.”
Unbuckling the belt, Tom slips it out of the loops and hands it to Zeke, who carefully lets it dangle from the buckle. “Yeah,” Tom says, “I killed the little weasel. He shouldn’t have laughed at me. Can you believe it—him laughing at me? Well, he wasn’t laughing when I hanged him in that dressing room and swung him onto that hook.”
“What did he think was so funny?” Sheriff Rice asks.
Baring his teeth, Tom says, “He jabbed his tiny finger in my chest, laughed and said, ‘The big, strapping McCraven brother got his time beat by a man half his size and twice his age. Yvonne must know a real man when she sees one.’ He never let up. He stuck the knife in and twisted it every time I saw him. ‘You ought to see her naked, Tom. Man, what a body!’ ‘She’s an absolute goddess, Tom, and she treats me like a king in bed.’ The smug little rat knew he could get away with it because he already had me over a barrel.”
“You want to tell us exactly what was in that barrel?” Sheriff Rice asks.
“Bluff somehow found out about the lawsuit claiming we used substandard girder rivets and spot welds. Except,” he says, unable to meet his brother’s eyes, “there was no lawsuit. It was just a dummy arrangement between me and a guy named Cliff who works as a building inspector. As it turned out, Bluff knew the guy from some of his business dealings. He took Cliff out to a bar and got him drunk, and he started shooting off his mouth about what we’d done. Bluff got the whole confession recorded on his iPhone. He threatened to show it to Stan if I didn’t give him everything I made on the deal.”
Tom shuts his eyes briefly. “After Bluff stopped kicking, I pulled him up and checked his jacket and pants pockets for the phone. He didn’t have it on him. I went back to his house and looked for it. But I couldn’t find it.”
Stan still has the blindsided expression of a deer caught in the headlights. “Why didn’t you come to me? I’m your brother, Tom. Your partner. It didn’t have to come to this. You didn’t have to kill Bluff over money.”
“Yeah, bro, I did. You see, he also found out from Cliff I’ve been gambling again. Two years now. Cliff also told him I got in over my head with a couple of mobsters I met at the racetrack down in Mexico when we were there. I had a sure thing on this beautiful filly, so they backed me to the hilt.” He smiled. “No thing is sure, though, right? They’ve been bleeding me ever since just on what they said was interest and luxury tax. They’ve got the title to my house. My yellow Mercedes.” He looks at Stan. “They said they’d chop me up if I tried to renege. That was bad enough. But, they said they’d also come after you.”
Stan looks nauseous. “Tom, no.”
“It’s why I’ve been pushing our construction so hard the la
st couple of years. These guys said my life wasn’t mine anymore. They said they owned me.” He shakes his head. “Bluff had me up against it, too, Stan. Telling you was one thing. He said he’d go to the police. Destroy our company. He called the $1.2 a down payment. He was expecting me to deposit more money into his offshore account every month. I had to kill him.”
I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. “‘Money is always coming in. Money is always going out. You get to the point where you don’t even think twice about it,’” I say, quoting Stan. “I guess Tom’s had to.”
Ruefully, he laughs. “You know what’s funny, Madeline? I was actually doing okay. I was a dead man walking, but at least I was putting one foot in front of the other. I was hanging in. And then—”
“Yvonne.”
“The moment I saw her, I was gone. I don’t know why exactly. She’s beautiful, but I know a lot of beautiful women. But, that day when me and Stan and Bluff went into her shop, something happened to me. I had to have her. Maybe I saw her as something that could be mine alone without somebody else taking a cut or bleeding me out of it. So, I went for it. I threw every smooth line I could think of at her.”
“I know,” Stan says softly. “But she only had ears and eyes for Bluff. Women. Go figure.”
“I couldn’t let it go. I went back again to her shop that evening and tried to talk to her. I practically begged her to give me a chance with her. She held up her ring. Said she was happily married and loved her husband. The hypocrite. All her fidelity didn’t seem to matter when it came to Bluff.”
This is the part Yvonne didn’t think was important when we talked. Tom returning to the shop, making another romantic run at her.
I can feel the genuine hurt emanating from him. “That’s why you killed Bluff in the boutique dressing room. You figured Yvonne would find him. You wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt you.”
His wide shoulders sag. After Zeke reads him his rights, Tom shrugs at his brother and says, “It’s Laney Crowder all over again, right, bro?”
Zeke takes him by the elbow and leads him up the corridor past Archie. Darren and Lonnie follow behind them.
The sheriff shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “Poor Tom, I didn’t want to tell him we found Bluff’s cell phone. It must have fallen out of his pants pocket and under the ottoman when ya’ll were sitting at the poker table, Stan.”
“And the reason you didn’t want to tell Tom,” I say, “is because there was no drunken confession by this Cliff fellow on it.”
Archie smiles sadly. “Nope. There were a couple of selfies with only half of Bluff’s face in them. Plus, there were three photos of Yvonne Ellsworth without her, uh, top. I didn’t have the heart to tell Tom it was all a bluff.”
Turning, he leaves me and Stan alone in front of the two-way mirror. He looks so bewildered and lost, a part of me wants to give him a big hug. But, I’m certain Luisa and Cynthia wouldn’t approve. “I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how much you’re hurting. May I ask what happened with Laney Crowder?”
He stares straight ahead. “The night after she and I went out, Tom went over to her house and threw a rock through her window. It also shattered the TV she had sitting on her dresser. Our dad busted his butt and grounded him for three months.” Exhaling, he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m afraid his punishment is going to be a lot stiffer this time,” he says as he slowly trudges up the corridor.
Chapter Twenty
LUISA IS LICKING THE pecan sprinkles off her caramel-covered Rollercoaster at Big Wheel. There is a look of pure ecstasy in her eyes, and she has made several deep, throaty moans at the delectability of her ice cream sandwich. “Easy, girl,” I say, tucking my head as I glance about the ice cream parlor. “There are children here.”
She laughs and wipes her mouth. “Sorry. But it is just soooo gooood. It was awfully sweet of you to not only concede victory to me but to also buy me this heavenly treat.”
I hold up my hands. “I surrender to your superior willpower. You beat me fair and square. I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer, so why fight it? Would you like a soda or a cup of coffee to go with it? You know how good the mocha latte is here. Whatever you want, you just say the word.”
“I must admit, Madeline, you are the best sport ever. No, I just want to savor this all by itself. I don’t want to get too full. I was on my way to Glen’s when you called me to meet you here. I’m thinking this might be the night he proposes.”
“Get out of here.”
“I’ve got a feeling,” she says, cocking her chin and licking a lump of caramel.
We both squeal giddily, causing several patrons to glare toward our little booth. I clasp her free hand. “I’m so happy for you, Luisa. This will be such a win-win. You’ll have a husband, and I’ll have motivation to lose weight so I can fit into that maid of honor gown.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, you’ve won our contest many more times than I have. You have loads of willpower.” Taking a big bite of Rollercoaster, she moans again. “Aren’t you going to have something?”
“She already has,” a deep voice says.
We look up to see Zeke Worthy approaching our booth.
“What are you talking about, Detective?” Luisa asks.
“Miss Shore had a strawberry-lemon-glazed cruller from Krusty-Creamed Doughnuts two days ago.”
My face burns as Luisa glares at me with her mouth wide. “I—I was going to tell you,” I say. “I really was. I just wanted you to enjoy your Rollercoaster first.”
“There was also what looked like a half-eaten cinnamon bun in the bottom of her handbag,” Zeke says. “Of course, there’ no telling how long that’s been in there. Oh, yes, she also had a Bavarian Crème doughnut earlier today.”
Luisa nods like a bobble-head. “Oh, I see how it is. I’m sitting here admiring how magnanimous and sportsmanlike you are, and it turns out you’re just guilty about stuffing your face while I suffered needlessly for three days.”
Zeke folds his arms. “Luisa, you didn’t seem to be suffering when you, me and Yvonne killed that bag of Double Stuff Oreos yesterday at the shop.”
I blink in outrage as my own jaw comes unhinged. “Oh, it is I who sees how it is. You’ve been lying through your caramel-coated teeth, moaning and groaning over ill-gotten spoils I paid for!”
“I still won, Madeline,” she says, sneering. “You broke on Monday. I didn’t break until Tuesday, so nyah, nyah, nyah!” Sliding out of the booth in a huff, she leans down in my face and takes a celebratory slurp of vanilla ice cream, caramel and pecans. “Boy, when something’s free, it tastes even better!”
I push the sandwich into her nose. “How are the taste buds in your honking nostrils?”
A smile breaks over her face, and Luisa cracks up. “I know you didn’t just do that,” she says, looking down her olive nose at the smear of vanilla on it.
“You know I just did. Now, go get your fiancé to lick it off.”
“Well-played,” she says, wiping her nose with a napkin as she heads toward the door. “You guys have a nice evening.”
Zeke shakes his head. “Good thing this town doesn’t have an open-carry law for firearms.” He looks at the lighted menu above the counter. “I’ve never been here. What do you suggest?”
“The Double-Decker Banana Split is to die for. Or, so I’ve heard.”
“Coffee or Coke?”
“Coffee, black.”
“Back in a flash.”
I am so glad I’ve worn my stretchy, black tunic top and yoga pants (although I’ve never done a warrior pose in my life). This girl’s going to need a little extra breathing room in the waistband when Zeke gets back with all that delectable sweetness—bountiful bananas covered with vanilla, chocolate and strawberry ice cream, three kinds of nuts, whipped cream and maraschino cherries on top. He has never looked sexier when he sets the dessert in the middle of the table with two spoons in it and slides my cup of coffee in front of me with a stack of napkins
.
“Thanks for calling me out,” I say, picking up one of the spoons. “How’d you know?”
“About the cinnamon bun? I saw it when I got your handbag off the bridge wall. As for the cruller, Todd said you sniffed it.” Zeke picks up the other spoon and digs in. “As good as those things smell, it’s not hard to deduce you couldn’t help but eat one. I just wish I knew why Bluff did.”
“That’s easy. When you checked his pockets, he didn’t have any gum.”
“Thanks for clearing that up for me.”
“Dummy, he thought he was going to get to kiss Yvonne. He’d been drinking beer. He wanted something he thought might sweeten his breath.”
He finishes a bite of the split. “I guess I don’t think very romantically these days.”
I spy an opening. My long-awaited chance to find out what caused the tan line on his ring finger. But, I must be cautious, come in the back way, else I might scare him off again. “I wonder what’s going to happen to Yvonne and Vince. You were telling me you called her to come down to the station when you were about to release him. You said you wanted something, but you never said what it was.”
He pours one sugar and one creamer into his coffee (I make a mental note for when we’re married). “I wanted to see how he reacted to his wife after finding out she’d cheated on him. If he was going to get violent, I was going to be there to put a stop to it.”
“Did he?”
“Just the opposite. He put his arms around her. He started apologizing, saying it was all his fault. She started blubbering, telling him it was hers. It looked pretty genuine on both their parts, but I’ve seen a lot of guys Jekyll in front of the cops and then Hyde when they got the woman home. I watched them out the window when they got to the parking lot. They were still lovey-dovey. I even had Klein tail them home. He said they sat on their porch swing, holding hands and talking.”