She followed him, carrying the mug carefully as the contents were piping hot.
Cash opened the door to his office. Vicky was right behind him. As he stepped in, she caught a glimpse past him of the scene inside.
Doug Davis stood at Cash’s desk, leaning over his computer, typing away at the keyboard.
Cash froze. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Doug looked up at them, alarm in his face. He quickly clicked on the keyboard. “I was just looking something up on the internet. Some legal term I need in my article on the murder case. I do want to get all the details right.”
“Who let you into my office?” Cash asked. “I mean, who gave you permission to be here?”
“The deputy said it was quieter in here for me to work.” Doug stood up straight now, smiling at them. “I never meant to do anything wrong.”
“That computer gives access to databases and classified information. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“Oh, I had no idea. I’m sorry.” Doug backed away from the computer as if it had suddenly grown fangs. “I’ll sit in the reception area then. I’m really sorry.”
He passed them and went into the corridor.
Cash took a large sip of coffee. He rolled it around in his mouth, then swallowed. “I need this,” he said to Vicky. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long, hard day.”
He rolled back his shoulders as he stood. “Two young people accused of involvement in a cold-blooded murder. Not an argument gone wrong, the girl getting hit by her father and the boy jumping between them and giving the old man a push so that he falls backwards and hurts himself or plummets down those cliffs. No. A murder that’s planned in advance with a nice little literary bit written up about it. How we did it, by Trevor Jenkins and Kaylee Goodridge.”
Vicky said, “You don’t know for sure it was either of them.”
Cash sighed. “That has been their intention from the start I suppose. Making it impossible for me to determine which one of them fired the fatal shots. That could be a real problem in the court case. I can only hope they’ll both get nervous now that they’re under suspicion and that they’ll tell on each other.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “That they’ll betray each other is a despicable thing to hope for, but hey, what other options do I have? I need to know for sure who did what before I start charging them. The town won’t be happy if some kids get accused of murder.”
“Especially not now we know Marjorie took Kaylee under her wing,” Vicky supplied.
Cash sighed. “Marjorie might know only a fraction of the story. Just what Kaylee told her and wanted her to know. But no doubt Marjorie will call all of her friends as soon as she hears what I did here and malign me behind my back.”
“I guess with prints on the gun you do have something solid to go on,” Vicky said. Her heart was heavy for Trevor and Kaylee, who seemed to be in deep trouble here.
Cash took another draft of coffee. He put the mug on his desk and sat down in his chair, leaning far back. The chair crunched under his weight. “Once the lawyer is here, I’ll have to ask you to leave. You have no official position here and …”
Vicky prevented a further explanation by saying, “I totally understand. You’ve let me in on much more than you need have and I do appreciate it.”
“I wanted to defuse the situation,” Cash said with a grimace. “I hoped your presence could help to get cooperation from people. But it seems there is no nice solution to this thing. It’ll be big as soon as it hits the news. The idea his own daughter might be involved in Goodridge’s death.”
Vicky sighed. “Maybe I should stop by to see Gunhild again before I head to the store and ask her what she knows about Goodridge’s falling-out with his daughter. Perhaps we have the wrong idea of it, and Kaylee isn’t involved at all. She told you she handled the gun once when it was still in her father’s study. That might be true.”
Cash waved a hand as if he didn’t believe her. Then he suddenly focused on his computer screen. He stared with a frown, then grabbed the mouse and started to click.
He cursed under his breath.
“Is that necessary?” Vicky asked.
Cash looked up. “Doug Davis wasn’t exactly looking up a legal term for the piece he’s writing for the Gazette. The guy was checking information in a database only police officers have access to. You can never trust a reporter. Always snooping, sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”
“What did he want to know?” Vicky asked.
“That’s none of your business either.” Cash’s face turned redder and redder as he clicked on. “You told me to take him along. Because he wanted to impress Danning or something? Well, he can now report back to Danning with all the information he got from my system.”
“I can’t imagine Michael would want his people to do something like that. In fact, I think when he hears about it …”
“Oh, he’ll hear about it,” Cash said. “I’ll call him right now.” And he reached for the phone.
“Please don’t,” Vicky said quickly. “Doug probably didn’t know that what he was doing was wrong.”
Cash gave her an incredulous look.
“OK, so maybe he knew, but he didn’t mean any harm. He’s just ambitious. He feels like Michael took him on without him having the right credentials for it and he’s desperate to prove himself. If you call Michael and start complaining, Doug might get in trouble.”
“Serves him right,” Cash said, but he didn’t pick up the receiver.
Vicky said, “I’ll tell Doug he was wrong and he should never ever do something like this again. I’ll also ask him not to use sensitive information in an article. I’ll make it very clear that if you catch him again, you’ll report him to Michael and he might lose his job as a consequence. Let’s just give him one more chance, OK?”
Cash thought it over for a moment and then said, “OK. I guess he’s just a little too ambitious for his own good, huh? But you tell him to watch his step from now on. Another strike, and he’s out.”
“Of course,” Vicky said and left Cash’s office. She felt a bit guilty for having brought Doug in on the whole thing, while the young reporter was apparently just a little too eager. She had to convince him this was not the way to go or there would be trouble with Michael sooner or later. She knew full well Michael had built his career by hard work and dangerous undercover assignments and not by sneaking into a police computer while nobody was looking. If he found out about this, he’d be so disappointed in Doug.
Remembering the expression on Michael’s face as he had talked about Doug, Vicky’s heart clenched at the idea Michael would be hurt. He had obviously formed a bond with the young reporter-to-be. She had to persuade Doug that antagonizing the police wasn’t the way to go if he wanted to stay on at the Gazette.
In the reception area the chairs near the small table with old magazines were all empty. Vicky asked the deputy at the desk where Doug Davis was.
“Who? Oh, the reporter. He left. Right after you went into the sheriff’s office. I guess he wants to work quietly someplace else.”
Vicky frowned. Doug had said to them he’d stay at the police station. Now it turned out he had rushed off. With the information he had collected.
She had a bad feeling about this, but what to do next?
She asked the deputy, “Did he say where he was going?”
“No. Maybe the Gazette’s offices?”
“Maybe. Thanks.”
The deputy waved and leaned over his file again.
Vicky walked outside and stared up at the cloudy skies. She had wanted to talk to Gunhild again, but right now it might be better to track down Doug first and ask him what on earth he was doing. Trouble was, she had no bike here, and walking back into town would take time. She also had no idea where Doug had gone to with his information. Sensitive information probably.
She fished her phone from her
bag and called the Gazette’s offices.
Nobody answered the phone.
Michael’s cell then.
After a couple of rings Michael said, “Yes?”
“Vicky here. Do you know where Doug is?”
“No. What’s up? You sound worried.”
“I just want to ask him a question or two.”
“Where are you now?”
“At the police station.”
A telltale silence. Michael was probably thinking she was there most of the time.
Then he said, “I could come pick you up.”
Vicky closed her eyes a moment, relieved at the offer that would save her the walk. “Thanks. Then I can update you on the latest. There’s not one person arrested for involvement in Goodridge’s murder, but two. I hope we can discover, however, that it was neither of them.”
“Have you got another viable candidate in mind?” Michael sounded somber. “I talked to Sam and I was surprised at how angry he still is over that wrongful accusation of theft. I almost felt like he was mad enough to do something rash.”
Vicky said, “But with the whole piece in the paper thing, it was hardly a rash act.”
“I know. I’m just trying to point out that saving one person from suspicion will mean casting doubt on somebody else. Sam’s a nice guy with a sick wife. Do we really want him to face time in jail?”
“It’s not about whom we want to see in jail for the murder or not. It’s about who really did it.” Vicky clutched her phone. “Come pick me up and we’ll talk about it.”
Chapter Eleven
When Michael’s car came driving up to the police station, Vicky noticed that it shone again like it had done the night Michael had picked her up for the roaring twenties’ party at Lilian Rowland’s. At the time she had figured he had waxed it especially for the occasion, but now it seemed he did it more often. Probably because he wanted to take good care of his car.
For a moment she was sad recalling the happy feelings of that festive night, her dance with Michael and the revival of her old college hopes that something more than friendship could develop between them. But maybe you just had to accept, over time, that the things you hoped for weren’t to be?
Michael halted, and Vicky got in, snapping her seat belt shut. Michael was already making a turn to get away from the station again. “So Cash is making progress. Two suspects no less.” It sounded a bit disbelieving, as if he figured Cash had just been making arrests to show results.
Vicky said, “Cooperation, he thinks, or at least one having known what the other was up to. I’m not so sure though. I think they knew some things, but whether it was murder …”
Michael had turned the car into the road again and hit the accelerator. He glanced at her. “Have you been working with Cash all day so far?”
Vicky felt her cheeks heat. “No, I was at the store earlier. You saw me there.” Her tone might be a touch defensive.
As if he noticed, Michael grunted. “You seem to be Cash’s right hand these days. He has got deputies, right?”
“Oh, yes, and they do fine work too. One of them reported on fingerprints on the gun.”
Michael perked up. “There were some?”
“Yes. Contrary to my expectations.” Vicky felt she might as well say it herself before Michael said it for her. “Fingerprints from both Kaylee and Trevor.”
“So Cash is thinking they killed Goodridge together?” Michael frowned. “Does he assume they were both at the cliffs this morning to fire the fatal shots?”
Vicky resisted the urge to roll her eyes at this far-fetched suggestion. But she said seriously, “I haven’t asked him, but I think he assumes that only one of them fired the shots. He did mention they might each try to blame the other and obstruct the case that way so … Why do you ask?”
“Well,” Michael said, just as seriously, “I suppose they could have planned it together and promised each other to stick to a certain story or provide the other with an alibi, or whatever accomplices do, but I don’t see the need for both of them to fire the gun.”
“Me neither.”
“So then why are both their fingerprints on the weapon?”
That was a very good question. Vicky had first assumed Michael was just out to ridicule Cash’s theory, but it now seemed he was making a valid point. She said slowly, “Well, as the gun seems to have come from the study at the Goodridge residence, Kaylee might have gotten it out of the desk there and taken it to give to Trevor.”
Michael looked skeptical. “Wouldn’t she have handled it with a hankie? Most people these days know about fingerprints. I mean, it’s in every TV series. If you carefully plan a murder to the extent where you send a piece describing it to the paper from a computer in a computer café …”
“How do you know about the computer café?”
“Doug called me about it. He seemed to think it was a hot lead.” Michael smiled. It changed his tight features, smoothing them over.
Vicky studied him. “How did you get involved with Doug anyway? I mean, why did you take him on? He mentioned to me he wasn’t qualified.”
“Credentials don’t always say a whole lot. Doug struck me as ambitious, smart, eager. He had also worked with a friend of mine who runs an orphanage in Asia. I really like a guy who gives up paid work to help out little kids with no homes. Don’t you?”
“Of course.” Vicky rearranged her bag in her lap. Doug’s behavior at the police station still bothered her. She had prevented Cash from reporting it to Michael so she didn’t want to mention it to him herself.
But still …
She said, “This friend of yours, with the orphanage, must be pleased you took Doug on.”
“I doubt he even knows about it. I should be better at staying in touch with people but … only so many hours in the day, you know.”
“So you didn’t tell him?” Vicky frowned.
“No, I haven’t emailed him in ages. I do get his newsletter giving updates on the orphanage and all. Would you ever consider traveling as far away as Asia?”
“I don’t know. It seems like quite a flight. And I’m not too keen on spicy foods either or on raw fish.” Vicky gave an apologetic smile. “I guess as a world traveler you think I’m too particular, seeing difficulties instead of possibilities.”
“No, no, I do understand. I traveled for my work, not for fun. I saw every area as a potential place for a good story. But I can imagine when you consider a destination for a vacation or the like, you do look at possible risks. And I suppose it’s different for a woman, traveling on her own. The area where my friend is working is remote. I guess a guy like Doug can take care of himself under such circumstances, but if I had a daughter his age or younger even, she wouldn’t be going there.”
Vicky kept her eyes on the road as she phrased the next question. “Do you ever think … of what might have happened if Celine hadn’t been … If you had married, you might have had that daughter now.”
“I know,” Michael said. He didn’t say anything more, but just stared ahead as if he was focused on the driving alone.
Vicky glanced at him. The tightness in his features tore at her heart. She wanted to say so many things, but they all seemed shallow or contrived. Yes, grief did grow less over time, but the loneliness stayed. Michael could have had a wife and family now but he didn’t. Because of a killer. A deliberate crime.
At last Michael said, “How about you? Ever met a man you wanted to have kids with?”
I’m sitting right next to him, Vicky thought, but she said, “Well, you know, kids are a huge responsibility. I might have been in love but … How can you know if a marriage would have worked out and you could have offered those kids stability, love?”
“When you choose to do something, you dive into it with all of your heart. If you had children, you’d be a great mother.”
Vicky had to smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Michae
l let the wheel slide through his hands as he turned a corner. “Kids can cause you sleepless nights though. Whether they’re your own or not. Gunhild mentioned a couple of times to me how worried she was about Kaylee.”
Vicky sat up. “A couple of times? So you’re … friends?”
“Not really. I just wrote the article on her art for the Gazette, and then another paper called to ask if I could do a bigger spread with more pictures for them. So I went back to her, and she showed me around her studio and told me a little about her life.”
Vicky felt a little stab of unease. “I don’t think she shared her worries about her stepdaughter to be printed in some newspaper.”
“Of course not. After the interview for the paper the photographer left, and we had a glass of wine or two on the porch. Gunhild wanted to know more about my travels and in turn she told me how she had met Archibald and come to live here in Glen Cove.”
The wriggle of unease now became a full-fledged stab of jealousy. Of course Michael had stayed behind with the attractive woman to talk about her life. Hadn’t he done the same thing when he had visited the owner of the new spa, commonly known as the Glam Parlor?
Michael might not be aware of it himself, but he seemed to have a way to instantly connect with women who were like wax in his hands and shared their deepest secrets with him.
But that was nonsense of course, Vicky corrected herself. Gunhild had shared with Michael how she had met her husband, so there had been nothing even remotely romantic about the whole thing. She had to stop being so possessive about Michael. He wasn’t hers.
Far from it.
Michael said in the meantime, “Gunhild married a man but also got a child in the bargain. Those are my words, mind you, not hers. I put it a bit crudely, because I sensed that she really loved her husband and wasn’t sorry for having met him but that the relationship with her stepdaughter was taxing her. You know how teens can be, and of course Kaylee could constantly play the ‘you’re not my real mother’ card. Seems she was so jealous of the bond between her father and his new wife. I even wondered as I sat there listening if Kaylee wasn’t a little …”
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