by A M Ialacci
“Ryan is super nice to me. Not many kids are, but he is,” Frankie said.
“Well, those other kids don’t know what they’re missing,” Allie said, her heart breaking a little.
“He’s nice and smart and funny, and did I say smart?” Frankie asked.
“You did, and he is,” Allie agreed.
“And he’s a good hugger,” Frankie added.
Allie glanced at the pile of Frankie’s things. “You sure have a lot of stuff here,” she said. “Is this a book of paint chips?”
Allie heard movement from inside the stall, and then a flush. Frankie emerged with a smile. “No, silly. That’s a Pantone Color Guide. It’s got every known color in it. It’s expensive.”
“It is?”
“My old art teacher gave it to me. They’re like a hundred and fifty dollars to buy new.”
“I see why you carry it with you everywhere,” Allie remarked.
“Thank you for stopping. Sometimes I don’t make it,” Frankie said, serious again.
“Not many people can control when they need to go,” Allie said. “Thank you for telling me in time.”
Frankie smiled again as she washed her hands. “I’m so excited for the arcade!”
“Me too, kiddo,” Allie said.
When Frankie had washed her hands, she surprised Allie with a hug. “You’re a good hugger, too,” Allie said. Frankie grabbed her things, and as they walked back to the truck, Frankie reached for Allie’s hand, who clasped hers tight.
Chapter Eighteen
When they arrived, Allie led Ryan and Frankie to the change machine and supplied them each with cups full of quarters. Then off they went in search of games to play.
“Don’t I get any quarters?” Mike asked.
“You can afford your own,” Allie said and winked at him.
“Fine then,” he said, putting bills into the change machine. “And when I earn enough tickets for a big stuffed animal, you aren’t getting it.”
Allie stuck her tongue out at him and he pulled her close and kissed her. “Don’t tempt me like that. All these children running around…”
“Mr. Gillikin!” Allie playfully swatted his shoulder. “What are you thinking!”
They wandered around, trying to give the kids space but also keep an eye on them. Ryan and Frankie were sticking together, which made it easier.
“Did you talk to some of the park staff today?” Mike asked.
“We did.” Allie grimaced.
“Why the face?”
“It’s just… odd,” she said.
“What is?”
“When you first interview people, sure there are some with things to hide, or others who are oblivious. But usually there’s somebody who spills their guts, even stuff that isn’t relevant. Because they want to be helpful, they want to feel important, you know?”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Mike said.
“But this time, no one is spilling. They are all tight as drums.”
“What do you think that means?”
“Not sure yet. Charlie thinks they’ll open up under pressure, but I’m starting to wonder if they all have something to hide.”
“That’s not all that unusual, is it? I mean, remember the Ty Guthrie case? Just about everyone had something they didn’t want you to know.”
“True,” Allie said. “But Ty was a jerk. Everyone we’ve spoken to says Harriet was beloved. It’s being repeated so often it sounds like a script,” she said.
“Maybe it is. Maybe their head guy told them what to say,” Mike suggested.
“That’s possible. PR spin.” Over the din of the dozens of games, Allie heard a sound that instinctively stopped her in her tracks. Then she hustled through the arcade with Mike close behind. She found Ryan, muscles tensed and fists clenched, making anguished noises, while Frankie tugged on his arm and repeated, “It’s okay, Ryan. It’s okay.”
Allie stood in front of Ryan. “What’s wrong, bud?”
He gnashed his teeth and wailed, flexing his hands and squeezing them back into fists.
“That guy put that sign on his game again,” Frankie interjected. “So Ryan got mad.”
“When did this happen?” Allie asked.
“Just now,” Frankie said and pointed to the game.
Allie looked at Ryan again, stroking his head. “It’s all right, bud. I’m going to check this out, okay?”
Allie went to the game and flipped up the Out of Order sign. The game appeared to be working. It cycled through to the leaderboard, and she saw Ryan’s initials in several spots on the list. But in the first-place slot, the initials were RJW.
Allie returned to where Mike was standing with Ryan and Frankie. “Which guy was it?” she asked.
Frankie pointed to a taller boy, barely older than Ryan.
“Do we know his name?”
Frankie shrugged.
“Want me to find out?” Mike offered.
“Just walk by and see if he has a nametag,” Allie suggested.
Mike did and returned. “It says Rodney. It also says Manager.”
Allie raised her eyebrows.
“Do you want to take them over to the snack bar? I’m going to go take care of this,” Allie said. “Ryan, go with Mike. Get some popcorn or some ice cream. I’ll come and get you in a minute when this is sorted out, okay?”
Ryan was still upset, but he allowed Mike and Frankie to lead him away with the promise of a milkshake.
Allie went to the prize counter. “What’s your manager’s name? Rodney something?” she asked the teenage girl with the long ponytail and a huge wad of gum in her mouth.
“Yeah,” she said. “Rodney Willis.”
“Thanks,” Allie said. She followed Rodney for a short while, watching him check the coin returns for quarters and handling minor issues with customers. After a while, she approached him. “Are you a manager?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Can I ask you a question about a game?”
“Sure,” he said, following her.
She brought him back to Ryan’s game, the one he had placed the sign on. “Why is this sign here?”
“The game isn’t working, ma’am.”
“Yes, it is,” she said. “I moved the sign, put my quarter in, and played a game.”
“Well, the joystick isn’t performing all of its functions for every one of the games on the console.”
“Rodney,” she said. “You’re full of it.”
“Excuse me?” His mock indignation was a poor acting job.
“You put this sign here because you’re number one on the leaderboard and you want to stay there.”
He stood gaping at her with his mouth open, and several people turned to watch and record with their phones. She ripped the sign off and pointed. “RJW.” She pointed at him. “That’s you, Rodney Willis. And you’re depriving kids of this game for your own ego. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
An angry murmur was rising from the crowd around them.
“Fine. You want me to take the sign off? I’ll take it off.”
Allie slapped it into his chest.
“But don’t come crying to me when it isn’t working right!” He snatched the sign from his chest and stalked off, and Ryan edged his way through the crowd with a handful of quarters and a smile on his face.
“Nice detective work there, ma’am.” Mike sidled up next to her and hugged her from behind.
“I always get my guy,” she said, kissing his cheek.
Chapter Nineteen
When Mike pulled the truck up to the trailer, he turned to Allie. “It’s my last night with you guys before I leave for Daytona.”
“It is,” Allie said, handing the keys to Ryan who hopped out of the truck and up onto the deck to open the door. “Want to come in, snuggle up, and watch some movies?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Mike said, pulling her close and kissing her long and hard.
“C’mon!” Ryan called to th
em from the door, and they pulled apart, laughing. Once inside, they settled in on the couch and started watching one Ryan’s favorite pirate movies, giggling at his ability to recite all the lines along with it. There was a knock at the door, and Allie threw a puzzled look to Mike, who shrugged. She hopped up to get it and opened the door to Nick Cruz.
“Hey, there,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing too important,” he said, a blush rising to his cheeks.
“Who is it, Allie?” Mike called from the couch.
“It’s just Cruz,” she called back.
“Cruz who?” he asked.
Another blush rose to Cruz’s cheeks. “I’m sorry to bother you. I didn’t know you had company.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “Was there something you needed to tell me?”
“Oh, I, uh… the ERT reports are complete, and if you want to meet me and Charlie at the Visitor Center in the morning, we can go over them.”
“Oh, okay. That sounds great. Thank you,” she said and smiled.
“Of course. I’ll, uh, see you in the morning,” Cruz said and backed up, throwing her a little wave.
“See you then,” she said to his back as he walked quickly to his rental car. She shut the door and rejoined Mike on the couch. Ryan was pacing and flapping as he recited the movie verbatim. “That was a little weird.”
“Who was that again?” Mike asked.
“Nick Cruz, the FBI agent on the Brennan case,” she said.
“Oh, right,” Mike said. “Why did he come all the way out here?”
“Uh, to tell me the forensic reports were done and to meet him and Charlie in the morning.”
“And that couldn’t have been done in a text?” Mike asked.
“Right?”
“That is weird. Not sure if I trust that guy,” Mike said.
“Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe he was in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Mike said, smirking. “Do you have an extra phone cord? Mine’s about to die.”
“I think there’s one in Ryan’s room,” she said. “I’ll go look.”
“Thanks, babe,” he said, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles before she walked down the hall.
In Ryan’s room, she flipped on the light and went to his desk. She had tried to get Ryan in the habit of winding up his cords and at least corralling them in a little bucket on his desk, but more often than not, they ended up on the floor, in his bedclothes, under the seat in the truck—anywhere but where she had asked him to put them. She sighed as she rummaged through the bucket and noticed his small treasure chest next to the bucket was open. This was something her parents had bought him to keep his “treasures” in. He liked to collect marbles, smooth rocks, pretty leaves, and other things that captured his interest. It made Allie smile that he maintained that childlike wonder at the world around him. She noticed an odd shape in the small chest and pulled it out. It was a key that had a number etched into it and a cheap ring with a tag on it attached that said Soundside Bank. A safe deposit box key? Where had Ryan picked this up? She’d have to ask him without making him nervous about having something that didn’t belong to him. She examined the key again, and on the back of the tag, it said, J. FOX.
Allie stopped breathing for a moment and then exhaled. This was her dad’s. Ryan must have found it in their room before she and Sheila had boxed up her parents’ things and put them in storage. Tomorrow, I’ll have to go to the bank and find out what this is all about, she thought, stuffing the key in her pocket. No need to tell anyone anything until then. She went back out to the family room and said, “Couldn’t find an extra.”
In the morning, Allie rolled into the visitor lot and noted that Cruz’s rental and Charlie’s patrol car were already there. Did she have the time wrong? She hustled inside and to the situation room that Cruz had set up on the first floor.
“Allie, come on in and have a seat,” Cruz said, all business.
Charlie looked at her and then back down at the report already in front of him. Cruz passed her a copy.
“As I was saying, the Emergency Response Team determined that Harriet Brennan was killed in the watch room of the lighthouse, dumped over the side, and dragged to the location where she was found. Due to the nature of the head wound and where they think it happened, there was likely significant blood spatter on the clothing of the killer.”
“Interesting,” Charlie said. “We’ll need to keep an eye out for that.”
“Also, there were partial shoeprints on the floor of the watch house and down the steps of the lighthouse that were detected in luminol. Unfortunately, they were only partial prints, so we can only estimate shoe size. They are apparently a fairly popular boot, and specialists are going over the pictures and casts we took at the dumpsite, looking for identifying markers that could eliminate potential suspects if a matching boot is found.”
“What size is the estimate?” Allie asked.
“Anywhere from a men’s size nine to an eleven,” Cruz said.
“So, like a women’s eleven to thirteen?” Allie said, consulting Google on her phone.
“Right.”
“Big for a woman and pretty average for a guy,” she commented. “The casts at the dumpsite and the prints on the lighthouse steps match?”
“We think so. Could be two or more of the same brand boot print in similar sizes, though. As I said, the specialists are continuing to look at them in more detail.”
“Can we get a copy of the print, and the comparison boot used to match the tread?” Charlie asked.
“They’re in the back of your packet, there.” Cruz pointed.
“Ah, perfect,” Charlie said.
“Finally, no belongings were found near the body. If she was carrying anything that night, like a cell phone or a handbag, it was taken.”
“I was wondering about that,” Allie said. “A cell phone might also help us figure out more about the relationships in her life.”
“She was kind of a luddite, though, wasn’t she?” Charlie asked. “Leather journal covers, fountain pens, not much on her computer.”
“True,” Allie said. “I guess we’ll find out if and when we find the phone.”
“We should ask Vi what kind she had so we know what to look for.”
Chapter Twenty
Charlie’s phone rang, and he listened for a moment.
“Vi is going to have to wait a bit,” he said and within minutes, he and Allie were in the patrol car and headed to a trailer park in Harkers Island. “My deputies have located Les at his sister’s house,” Charlie said as he drove. “They’re waiting there with him until we get there just in case he decides to disappear again.”
“Good idea,” Allie said.
They pulled in next to another cruiser in front of a white single-wide with flowerbeds masking the skirting and a small deck up to the front door. Two deputies answered their knock on the door and Charlie relieved them. “You’re Cathy Fulcher?” Charlie addressed the blonde, slightly overweight woman in her fifties seated on the sofa.
She nodded.
“And Les here is your brother?”
She nodded again.
Charlie turned to Les. “I’m glad we were able to catch up with you, Les. You can be a difficult man to find at times.”
Les brushed back his long, graying hair and grimaced at Charlie but said nothing. He scratched at the stubble on his weathered face and leaned back in his armchair, looking like a petulant teenager.
“You can usually find him here if you wait long enough,” Cathy said, lighting a fresh cigarette. “He doesn’t have a place of his own, so when he’s done roughing it after a while, he’ll come here for a shower, shit, and shave.”
“And is that what he came for this time?” Charlie asked.
“I just got tired of where I was staying, so I came back here,” Les said, arms crossed over his chest.
“Where were you staying?” Charlie asked.
“With
a friend at his place in Newport.”
“Does this friend have a name and an address?” Charlie pulled out his notebook.
Les’s gaze darted around a bit before he said, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Considering this is a murder investigation, it might be in your best interests to provide yourself with an alibi,” Charlie said.
Les stopped talking.
“This time he borrowed my boat,” Cathy chimed in.
“Cathy!” Les admonished.
“What? It’s true. You came and got it on Saturday morning and just now brought it back.”
“Les, did you borrow Cathy’s boat?”
Les grimaced again and twisted in his seat. Finally, he said, “Yeah.”
“And where did you take the boat, Les?”
“We went fishing in the Sound.”
Charlie waited to see if he would add any details, but Les was tight-lipped. “Understand, Les. Your inability to provide a motive, along with your long-standing feud with the victim, makes you a suspect in this investigation.”
Les shrugged. “I didn’t do it, so…”
“Do you have anything else to say? Anything at all?”
Les leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I didn’t hate that woman, despite what you might think. I hated the damn rules she enforced, but it wasn’t personal. When I argued with her, I was just fighting for my personal freedoms. Our personal freedoms! The government just takes and takes, and we get left with less and less.” He was red in the face. He paused and sat back in the chair. “But it wasn’t personal. That’s all I have to say.”
Charlie stood, and Allie followed suit. “All right, Les. We’re not done with you, so the next time you want to disappear off the grid, think twice. I’m not going to be happy if I have to chase after you. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Les saluted with a smirk.
Charlie shook his head and went for the door. “Thanks for your help, Cathy. Keep us posted.”
“You bet!” she shouted and coughed.
Outside, Allie asked Charlie, “What do you think?”
“I think we’ll be back. We know little more than before we came.”