“How are you doing, Robert?”
“I’m tired and hungry and want to go home.”
“Isn’t that a song? ‘Show me the way to go home, I’m tired and I want to go to bed . . .’ something like that, anyway.”
“It’s Christmas Eve, man.”
“And your mother is baking Christmas cookies.”
He grimaced.
“Robert, where did you get the two sage-green Ralph Lauren towels we found at your apartment?”
“At a store.”
“Which store?”
“Walmart. They had a sale.”
I highly doubted Walmart sold Ralph Lauren towels.
“When?”
“I don’t know, maybe a year ago.”
“Your mother said you gave them to her recently.”
“She’s mistaken.”
“Is your father still alive, Robert?”
“No”.
“How did he die?”
“Heart attack.”
“Did they do an autopsy?”
“Nope.”
“What about your grandparents?”
“All gone.”
“Tell me about their deaths.”
“They got old and they died.”
“Did they do an autopsy on any of them?”
“I wouldn’t know. Why the family history?”
“I have my reasons. You like things orderly. Don’t you, Robert?”
“Yes.”
“You know who else liked order? Sonya Donovan. In fact, she was obsessive about it. She liked her towels stacked just so . . . uniformly. We know two towels are missing, and they’re identical to the two in your closet next to the other threadbare towels. What’s your explanation as to how they wound up in your linen closet?”
“How do you know they’re the same ones? There’s a million of ’em sold.”
“Ever hear of DNA?”
I was in my bullshitting mode now. I needed more than Sonya’s towels to arrest him.
“When older people die in their sleep, most people think, ‘why go through the expense of an autopsy?’ Happens all the time. Only Mrs. Donovan was a friend of the sheriff of Birch County. She demanded to know why her healthy friend died. Turns out—get this—she drowned. Well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know she couldn’t drown and then walk herself up to her bed. Someone had to carry her.”
He sucked on the inside of his cheek. I kept waiting for him to ask for an attorney because he’d been in the system enough to know how these things worked.
Martha came in to get me. When we walked back to the desk area, she said, “Quinlan used a Visa card in Motley at the Bricks Travel Center on December twelfth at 5:05 a.m. Purchases totaled $45.37. And Walmart doesn’t sell Ralph Lauren towels.”
I went back in and stood in front of Quinlan.
“Robert, our county attorney looks favorably on cooperation. If you tell me the truth, things will go much easier for you. Did Grady drive up to Dexter Lake with you?”
No answer.
“The security camera footage at Bricks Travel Center will tell us who was with you besides Moriah.”
He took a deep breath.
“Was the murder Brenda’s idea or Grady’s? Say, maybe you’re the mastermind. You figured out a way to kill the girl’s grandmother to make it look like natural causes, then staged a drive-by killing of the mother. But I do have a question: Was shooting the girl an accident or to make it look real?”
He didn’t answer.
“You needed a security code to get in the Dexter Lake house. Only a few people knew it. Grady was one of them.”
Quinlan sank in his chair. He slowly covered his face with his hands.
“Which brings me to my partner’s assault. You probably needed the code for the Logan house, too. And I don’t know too many people who are privy to that information. Again, Grady pops into my mind.”
“I want a lawyer.”
Thursday, December 25
RYAN’S BOSS RECOMMENDED Birch County deal with Robert Quinlan first. Patrice met us at in booking at Birch County Detention Center at one o’clock in the morning.
“Excellent,” she said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am, Cal. You gave me the most wonderful Christmas present.”
“We’re not done yet. We need his accomplice, which could be Marvin Moore or Grady.”
“Grady doesn’t know we have Quinlan.”
“Good.”
She put her hand on my arm. “Thank-you, again,” she said.
As she started to walk away, I asked, “You doing okay?”
“No, not really.”
“It’ll get better. First thing tomorrow morning, I’m running over to Motley to get the film from Brick’s Travel Center.”
“It’s Christmas Day. They may not even be open. It can wait until Friday.”
“You do know we need a confession from Quinlan. We don’t have any physical evidence other than the towels and the Motley transaction. His good deed cover was brilliant: picking up and taking his niece to her college interviews. Oliver may not even charge him.”
“Don’t say that.” She put her finger on my lips, and the familiarity caused me to step back.
“I need to get home and get some sleep.”
IT WAS TWO O’CLOCK when I walked into my dark house. I flipped on the light and walked to the kitchen. On the counter was a note from Shannon. She picked up Bullet and the Santa presents. She was making a point—I was neglecting my duties as a pet owner and parent. Trouble is, I agreed with her.
I looked through the fridge for something to eat. I poured myself a glass of milk, made myself a peanut butter sandwich, then another, and pulled down the container of Christmas cookies and ate half a dozen.
When I walked by the living room on the way to the stairway, I glanced at the tree. The hall light shone on the few presents stacked under it. I grabbed my jacket and keys and drove over to Shannon’s. I let myself in with the “emergency key” she had given me and lay down on the couch near the Christmas tree. I pulled the throw blanket over me and closed my eyes. Sometime later, Bullet crawled up on the couch by my feet.
28
VOICES. SHUSHING. SCURRYINGS. Bullet jumped down. His claws clicked on the wood floor. Small hands on my face. I opened my eyes. Lucy leaned over and kissed me with an open mouth right on mine.
“Good morning, little one,” I said, grabbing her up on my chest.
“Daddy,” Henry said, and crawled up on my legs, narrowly missing my groin.
“Luke, hold on,” Shannon said.
She turned on the overhead light, causing me to squint.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“I wanted to be here for this,” I said.
“Well, you startled me. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Is it okay? I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Um . . . yeah, sure,” she said, unconvincingly.
“I could go. It was wrong of me to let myself in.”
“Well, yes, it was, but under the circumstances, it’s fine.”
“Mom . . . Mom . . . Mom,” Luke said.
“What, Luke?”
“Can I start?”
“Yes, sure. Open one, then the babies can each open one.”
She plucked Henry off me, and I grabbed Lucy. The five of us sat on the floor by the tree. Shannon snapped photos as the ripping and tearing began. The twins were more interested in the wrapping and boxes than the gifts. We took a moment to show them how to operate each toy. Shannon helped Luke put batteries in the helicopter; he tried to operate it but crashed it into the wall.
I went over to give him some simple instructions, and he soon had it flying all over the lower level and up the stairs.
As we were shoving the mountain of paper into large black garbage bags Shannon asked, albeit sarcastically, “So what was so important in the Cities?”
“I arrested Robert Quinlan last night.”
“All by you
rself?”
“No, of course not. Every case is a group effort. Let’s talk about this later.”
“Want some coffee?”
“No, I’m fine. By the way, my mom’s having dinner at her house tonight. A Mexican dinner. She expects me to bring the kids.”
She heaved a sigh as she pushed her hair back with a hand. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“It slipped my mind.”
“Cal, what’s going on with you? It’s not like you to forget things like that, or choose not to be with your family on Christmas Eve. You could have waited until Friday to question Quinlan.”
“Minneapolis picked him up. If they had let him go, he may have split.”
“You don’t know that.”
I counted to ten as I bit my lip. This was the real reason we divorced. We didn’t see eye to eye on even simple things. She was always letting me know she was disappointed, or how wrong I was on everything, and I was weary of it. But with the kids right there, it was not the time to get into it.
I put my coat on and said, “See you later.”
“You do remember the brunch is at your house?”
“Sure. What time is everyone coming?”
“Around ten. You don’t have to go right away, do you? Have some coffee.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”
“Cal, I’m sorry.”
I nodded, called for Bullet, and left.
I MANAGED TO GET ANOTHER three hours of sleep, then cleaned up and waited for the group to arrive: Shannon and the kids, her parents, her brothers’ families, and her grandparents. While the family went into the living room by the tree, Donna, my ex-mother-in-law, came to help me pour Bloody Marys and Mimosas.
“We missed you last night.”
“Thanks for saying that, but I had to work.”
“With the divorce, I suppose things are bound to change. I should have included your family and girlfriend today.”
“It’s better this way, Donna, trust me.”
“Shannon said you’re going to having a traditional Mexican dinner tonight.”
“Yep.”
“I miss you.” She moved in for a hug and said, “It’s so wonderful of you to have Shannon here while she recovers. She’ll be able to see the kids when she wants and will have Clara’s help.”
“Actually, it was Clara’s idea, and whatever Shannon wants to do is fine with me. I’m here for her.”
Donna made a sad face and said, “You’re a good man, Cal. I still feel terrible that your marriage didn’t work out.”
“Yeah, me too. But, Donna, I think you’ll see it was for the best.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I think Shannon will be happier with someone else.”
Donna shook her head in disagreement, but managed a smile.
Brunch was served, gifts were opened, and when the twins got crabby and everyone was getting ready to leave, I suggested the twins stay at my place to nap. Shannon disagreed. I didn’t argue and said I’d pick them up at four o’clock. Luke wasn’t interested in going to my family’s for dinner, and it was useless to push anything with him because Shannon wouldn’t support it anyway.
THE FIRST SIGHT OF THE GLOW coming upon Bobby’s driveway took my breath away. Luminaries bordered the driveway around a curve and up to his house. I slowed and pointed out the pretty lights to the Twinks. I stopped and snapped photos of their beautiful, innocent faces filled with awe and wonder. I never thought I could love anything as much as I loved these two children.
My mother and Bobby rushed out to carry the twins in, and while I gathered the gifts to bring in, sounds of Mexican music drifted out the open doorway. Rosarita smiled up at me as she helped take the coats off the babies. Taking the twins by their hands, Mom and Bobby walked them over to the Christmas tree.
“Let’s open gifts right away,” Mom said, grabbing a package for each of the kids.
Bobby turned to me. “She’s been looking forward to this for months.”
“But I thought Shannon and Luke might come with you,” Mom said.
“She’s with her own family. I didn’t think to ask her.”
“I did. I called her after I spoke with you.”
“Aren’t the grandmas coming tonight?” I asked.
“Oh, Mom and George decided to take a last-minute cruise, and Sylvia flew to California to be with Patrick and Angel.”
This was the first time we weren’t together for some portion of the Christmas holiday. I was disappointed in both grandmas for choosing not to be with my kids for Christmas, but Grandma Sylvia’s absence surprised me the most. She was my paternal grandmother. Her son, Patrick, was my biological father. All those years ago when the truth of Patrick and Grace’s sordid affair was discovered, the family disowned them. They took off for California, where Patrick eventually built a successful nursery business. When Grace died, he tried to reunite with me. I wasn’t quite so willing to forgive and forget he’d abandoned me. But Patrick was Grandma Sylvia’s son, and she had already secretly reunited with him. Grandma Dee and her shack-up boyfriend, George, were keen on experiencing as much of life as possible, especially casinos, which concerned me some.
I shook off my disappointment and watching Bobby and Mom delight in watching the twins open their gifts helped get me into the Christmas spirit. Bobby had made beautiful riding toys out of wood. The little truck and car had steering wheels and rubber tires that functioned. He varnished the wood instead of painting it, and the result was quite something.
Rosarita had knitted the kids multicolored hats and mittens, and Mom had made a large teddy bear for Henry and a cloth doll for Lucy. I was touched that every gift had been handmade. I received a five-hundred-dollar Herberger’s gift card from my mother.
With Bobby and Mom’s help, Rosarita prepared a traditional Mexican dinner of pazole (a soup), tamales, Mexican rice, a fruit punch called ponche, and flan. The kids particularly loved the tasty fried cookies called bunuelos.
Bobby then led the twins to the four-season porch where he had a monkey piñata hanging from a ring screw in the ceiling.
Mother whispered to me, “I couldn’t believe Bobby put a ring screw in the ceiling just for the piñata. He said I could put a plant on it, but in the middle of the room? You and Bobby would hit your heads on it for sure.”
He made my mother happy, but I was still concerned his secretive life would blow back on my family. But for now, the room was filled with laughter and smiles as the Twinks swung away with plastic bats at the monkey. Finally, with adult help, the piñata was broken, and toys and lollypops spilled out all over the floor. Their little faces said it all. They were having a blast. I left my mother and Bobby with the children picking up the treats and placing them into plastic bags and found Rosarita in the kitchen cleaning up.
“Thank you for the wonderful meal, Rosarita.”
“I had help. I’m glad you came to see me. I wanted to tell you something about the night of the murder. I don’t know if it’s important,” she said with a heavy accent.
“What is it?”
“All the lights in the house went on before two in morning.”
“All lights?”
“The downstairs first, then later, the upper floor. Is strange, no?”
“Si, it is strange. Did you happen to notice what time they went off?”
“Four o’clock I look again. They all off.”
“Well, this is very helpful. Thank you.”
Along with the Fitbit and Rosarita’s account, the time of the murder could be pinned down to between 2:00 to 4:00 a.m. This was an important piece to the puzzle. And in my estimation, Grady could easily have checked in at the vet clinic, left, drove the two hours, and gotten back well before anyone arrived at 7:00 a.m.
I HAD THE TWINKS BACK at Shannon’s by eight o’clock, as promised. After I deposited them in the kitchen, I made three trips in from the car with the gifts. Shannon watched from the door and opened it each time
I approached. Her frown deepened with each trip.
“What’s all this?”
“My mom and Bobby went all out. Their gifts are all handmade, they had real Mexican food, and broke open piñatas. The trinkets and suckers are in one of the bags. You can dole them out as desired.”
“I hope they don’t get diarrhea from the food.”
I frowned in reaction to her negativity. “It was all fresh food and delicious. I can’t see why there should be a problem.”
Her chin lifted. “Because it was probably too rich for their little digestive systems.”
“Okay . . . we’ll see.”
I could hear the sounds of a computer game coming from the living room. I peeked around the corner. Luke was sitting on the couch with a new iPad. I picked up the large wrapped package and walked over and set it on the floor next to him.
“Hi, Luke, this is from your Grandma Hope and Bobby. I think you’ll like
it.”
The box contained an official soccer ball, a baseball bat, glove, and baseball. Luke completely ignored me. When Shannon didn’t encourage him to stop playing on the tablet, I gave up and walked away. When I was a kid, a package this size would have gotten my full attention, and I would never have been allowed to ignore an adult. Oh, well.
When I kissed the babies goodbye, Henry started crying and his arms reached for me.
“He’s just tired. Don’t make it harder by picking him up.”
“Really? Okay, then. I’m out of here.”
I had had it with the negative attitude, and I was beginning to regret agreeing to have her stay at my house during her recovery. But because she was my kids’ mother and because of what she was going through, I would do what was right.
But it didn’t stop me from mumbling to myself as I got in my truck, “I didn’t even mention the luminaries or how much the kids loved dancing to the Mexican music.”
I wasn’t a block before Bluetooth picked up a call.
“Cal, the toys are beautiful.”
“Yeah, Bobby made them. And my mom and Rosarita handmade the other things.”
“I’m sorry I was such a bitch. I’m sure the twins’ stomachs will be just fine. You know I’m not myself lately.” “I know.”
Love 'Em or Leave 'Em Dead Page 22