Love 'Em or Leave 'Em Dead

by Bubany, Midge;

  “I took the bus.”

  “Who is Grady LaMere?”

  Her eyes narrowed as her forehead creased. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “Brenda LaMere?”

  She shook her head.

  “It appears your parents don’t have any extra money to help you with college. Am I correct?” She nodded.

  “Times are hard for your family?”

  “They always have been. My father allows me to work to earn my own money, if I give ten percent to the church, ten percent to him, and put the rest in my college fund.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “I babysit.”

  I imagine she told her parents she was babysitting the night of the storm.

  “Your grandmother seems to value education. Has she offered to help you with college?”

  “She doesn’t have the money. Mother says Grandma helped out too many people already, but Uncle Robert says he’ll help as much as he can. Also, I hope to work at the college and take out student loans.”

  I asked more questions about her knowledge of Sonya Donovan and her residence. Convinced she had nothing to do with her demise or had any knowledge of the murders, I ended the interview and walked her down to the lobby. I was showing her where to wait for her parents when Spanky entered with Grady and Zabrina. Patrice must have taken it upon herself to send Spanky to fetch them. Zabrina and Moriah locked eyes. I caught a glimpse of Moriah’s smile as she said hi to Zabrina. Zabrina greeted her but kept pace with Spanky to the check-in desk.

  “Do you know them?” I asked.

  “I met Zabrina last summer, but I don’t know the boy.”

  “Did you meet her through Zach Whitman, by any chance?”

  “Yes, how did . . .”

  “Where were you headed the night you ended up in the ditch?”

  She glanced around to see if anyone would hear her. “To Zach’s. Adam thought he was home, but he wasn’t. Are you going to tell my parents about that night?”

  “No, but I am going to give you a piece of advice.”

  “Okay.”

  “Stay clear of Zach and the boys you were with that night. They’re trouble.” I handed her my card. “If you think of something you haven’t told me, or if you ever need help, you can call me.”

  She took the card and looked at it. “Thank you.”

  I then tracked Spanky down and asked him to work on the cell phone records, giving him specifics of what I was looking for.

  I chose to question Della Moore next.

  “The first time I interviewed you, you did not give me your given name—Adelinda.”

  “Oh, I haven’t used it since I was a child. My father always called me Della, and it stuck.”

  “You should use Adelinda for legal purposes.”

  “Oh. I apologize, sir.”

  I went through my list of questions, and she gave me the same answers her daughter had. Robert and Marvin had gone out on an emergency call.

  “Who does Marvin work for?”

  “Mulligan’s Appliances. He does after-hours service calls for them part time.”

  “When did he leave on this emergency call?”

  “I’m not sure. I was sleeping.”

  “You didn’t hear the phone?”

  “No.”

  “How do you know Robert went with him?”

  “Marvin told me the next morning.”

  “And you have no idea what time he left or when he came back?”

  “No, I sleep like a baby.”

  “My babies always wake up in the middle of the night.”

  She gave me a half-hearted smile.

  “So, your brother drove all the way up to Dexter Lake and all the way back to the Cities to take Moriah to her college tours.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he always so generous with his time?”

  “Family means a lot to him.”

  “Does he get along with your husband?”

  “They have their ups and downs.”

  “What seems to be the source of the downs?”

  “My brother has said stuff to anger Marvin. There were a couple years we didn’t see my family at all.”

  “Why?”

  “Robert lent Marvin some money a few years ago, and he hasn’t been able to pay him back.”

  “How much money?”

  “Four thousand. We got behind on our bills.”

  “Any particular reason why?”

  “There aren’t that many people in town who have somebody mow for them, and everybody has a plow on their truck these days, and he only subs for Mulligan’s.”

  “Has Robert pressured you for the money?”

  She shook her head.

  “Tell me about your children.”

  “I have two boys and four girls. Moriah is our oldest.”

  I waited for her to ask why Moriah was being questioned. Odd that she didn’t.

  “Do you feel safe at home?”

  Her head dropped, and her eyes went to the table.

  “If your husband is abusive, for your kids’ sake, you should get them away from him. Your boys will emulate him, and your girls will think that’s the way they should be treated.”

  She looked away. She opened her mouth; her tongue touched her top lip.

  “There are organizations who could help you.”

  She nodded. The look on her face told me she wasn’t ready to take the step.

  “Do you know your brother is being held in the county jail?”

  Her eyes widened. “What for?”

  “In connection with Sonya Donovan’s murder.”

  A look of alarm crossed her face. “But what would he have to do with it?”

  “Do you know Brenda LaMere and her son, Grady?”

  “I know Brenda and her husband were friends of Robert’s when he was young.”

  “Have you ever met them?”

  “A very long time ago.”

  I showed her a picture of Grady.

  “Have you seen this young man around Dexter Lake?”

  “Should I have?”

  “He’s the boyfriend of Sonya Donovan’s granddaughter.”

  “Oh, well, I’m never there when they are.”

  “Does he look like anyone you know?”

  “He kind of looks like Robert did when he was young.”

  “Yeah. Now, is there anything more you want to tell me?”

  She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. “No, sir.”

  I tended to believe she knew nothing about Grady, or Robert’s connection with the Donovan case, but I was pretty sure she now suspected her husband helped Robert kill Sonya Donovan—maybe to forgive the debt. Now, to prove it.

  I WAS LOOKING FORWARD to interrogating Marvin Moore. He came into the room with his head down, shoulders bent forward, not at all the chatty, grinning goofball he was the last time he sat in the same chair. I read the man his rights, so all his words would be admissible in court.

  Then I stated, “We have Robert Quinlan in custody.”

  His cheeks mottled. He began picking at one of the calluses on his fingertip.

  When he didn’t respond, I was certain he knew why we had arrested Quinlan.

  “We have Robert’s side.” As much as he’d give us. “I suggest you give me yours.”

  He covered his face with his hands and mumbled, “Dear God in heaven.”

  “Whose idea was it to drown Mrs. Donovan? Yours or your brother-in-law’s?”

  “Look, I had no idea he was going to do that.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  He looked at his hands while he picked at another finger. “Robert wanted me to let him in the house. I thought he was only gonna rob her. When I found out she was found dead in her bed, I thought he frightened her to death. But then when I heard she was drowned, I called him, and he said he didn’t have nothing to do with it. And I guess I wanted to believe him.”

  “When did he ask you to get him into the
house?”

  “The day he came up to get Moriah, and I didn’t even know he was coming up. Della arranged it without my permission.”

  I scratched the back of my head. “So, you let him in the Donovan home with a house key you have.”

  “No, sir, I did not.”

  “You said earlier you had.”

  “Okay, okay, maybe I did, but I didn’t stay. I had an emergency service call.”

  “So instead of going on an emergency call, you and Robert went to Mrs. Donovan’s?”

  “Yes, but I was told the leak wasn’t that bad . . . just a small leak.”

  “Did Robert ride with you or drive his own car?”

  “He followed me to Donovans’, I let him in, then went on the call.”

  I questioned him for another twenty minutes, but he wouldn’t admit he went into Sonya Donovan’s home with Quinlan. When the interview was over, Patrice was waiting.

  I ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t believe him. I think he stayed, but I have to check with Mulligan’s to see if he even had an emergency call. His neglecting to tell me this on the first interview is highly suspicious.”

  Patrice said, “Yes. Are you going to question Grady now?”

  I nodded. “First, I want to talk to Mulligan.”

  JOHN MULLIGAN SAID THERE was a report of a water leak in the Cherry Street Apartments’ laundry room, and since Marvin was on call that evening, he was sent over to check it out.

  “Would you have any way of knowing if it had been a false report?” I asked.

  “False? Well, Marvin charged me for two hours, so I assumed it was legit.”

  “Do you know who called it in?”

  “No, the calls are directed to a service, the service calls our guy . . . Marvin on that particular night.”

  “May I have the answering service number?”

  “Sure”.

  I spoke to someone named Janet, who told me the service handled maintenance calls for a three-county area, and the operators worked from home. When a call came in, the person on duty contacted the appropriate contractor’s on-call technician. I asked her the apartment manager’s number, but had to leave a message.

  31

  PATRICE MET ME OUTSIDE interview room four, where Grady was placed. “Zabrina insisted on coming with,” Patrice said. “She’s waiting in my office.”

  “Bring her to number three. I do have additional questions for her.”

  GRADY MAINTAINED HE WAS working the night of Sonya’s murder, and I had nothing to prove otherwise—yet.

  I leaned forward in my chair and placed a hand on my chin. “Grady, I have a hard time with all your lies. For example, why not tell your girlfriends the truth about your parents?”

  His cheeks flushed with crimson blotches. “I know you went to see my mother. Tell me, would you introduce her to Zabrina?”

  I rubbed my chin. I couldn’t argue that one. “How do you feel about Robert Quinlan being your father?”

  “He embarrasses me. They both do.”

  “But yet you visit her and take his money?”

  “I only have one mother and Robert owes me something for doing what he did.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Got my mother pregnant and into drugs. She’s in prison because of him. She says he wants to atone.”

  “By killing your girlfriend’s family?”

  “Robert would never kill anyone. That’s preposterous.”

  I raised a finger. “The evidence is there.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then said, “Well, if it’s true, I’m appalled.”

  “And your mother convinced you to get your rich girl pregnant, so you’d be on easy street—and thus, so would she.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table. That part was true.

  “But the grand scheme to expedite the inheritance fell apart because Zabrina may not want to tie the knot after all.”

  He lifted his chin and looked to the ceiling. “I’m trying to do the right thing by her. I mean, I don’t exactly want to get married right now, but I’m willing.”

  “Do you know what I think? The night of Sonya’s murder, you checked in at the vet’s office, quickly did your chores, then took off for Dexter Lake. You met up with Robert Quinlan and helped him kill Sonya Donovan, then you drove back, making it to the clinic a good hour before the morning crew arrived. A few days later, Robert shot Justine and Zabrina in the drive-by.”

  He glared at me as he made a scoffing sound. “Wow. You think you have it all worked out. Except how much sense would it make for Robert to shoot Zabrina?”

  “How did he explain it? Did he accidentally wound her? Or maybe he’s a crack shot and thought if he’d wing her it’d look more realistic. I don’t know; you tell me.”

  “It must be a requirement for detectives to have a fantastic imagination because you made the entire scenario up.”

  I smiled. “I’d say we’re good problem and puzzle solvers. We put together all the clues. Some are small and remote, but place them together and presto, it all comes together. For example, the only way Robert would know what time Justine and Zabrina would be arriving home is if someone told him the exact time they were rolling up to the Logan house. We have cell phone records. We know you and Zabrina spoke minutes before the shootings.”

  “She had gone out to eat with her mom and begged me to come over, but I said I had to study.”

  “How convenient.”

  Tears began to roll from his eyes. I had him. He was ready to break.

  “Grady, it’s a terrible burden to carry all this inside. You’ll feel better if you get it off your chest.”

  His hands lifted, he opened his mouth, then shut it, then through his tears said, “Robert was going to help me through veterinary school. How’s he gonna do that if he’s in prison for murdering Zabrina’s family? And how is Zabrina gonna love me if my biological father murdered her family?”

  His head dropped; the tears turned to sobs. I hadn’t expected that spin.

  “Did you suspect he’d killed Sonya Donovan?”

  “Yeah, he talked about it after I started dating Zabrina. I didn’t think he’d ever be stupid enough to go through with it.”

  “Did he want you to participate?”

  “He asked me to get him into the house, but I refused.”

  “When was this?”

  “Last summer . . . maybe August.”

  “Why not tell me all this when I first questioned you?”

  “I regret I didn’t, but I didn’t want to be associated with Robert. And I certainly never thought you’d find out he was my biological father.”

  “People had to have seen you two together.”

  “I chose out of the way places where we wouldn’t run into anyone I knew, and now I know why he gave me an untraceable throw-away phone to use to call him.”

  “Which was why you weren’t using your own cell phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You knew he killed Sonya Donovan.”

  “Not at first, but when it came out she’d been murdered, I got concerned.”

  “And when Zabrina’s mom was killed, and she was shot?”

  “I was super upset. He wouldn’t answer my calls. So I drove down to Burnsville and waited in his parking lot for two hours. He got mad at me and said to get out of there and not contact him because the police couldn’t find out about our relationship.”

  “So who was his accomplice?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Do you know Marvin Moore?”

  “No. Who’s he?”

  “Explain why you initially dismissed the notion Robert killed Sonya Donovan, when he talked about it a few months earlier.”

  “I didn’t think he was serious.”

  “Did your mother ever discuss this plan with you?”

  “The only thing she ever said was if I got Zabrina pregnant, then I’d have to marry her, and I could afford anything I ever wanted. I thought she was jo
king.”

  “Getting some girl pregnant so she’ll marry you, then killing off her family so she inherits. Does that sound funny to you?”

  His hands pulled into fists, and his face contorted. “I didn’t think either one of them was that stupid.”

  “But you did get your girl pregnant.”

  “Not on purpose. What do you think I am?”

  “What matters is that you know who and what you are. Okay, sit tight, kid. I’ll be back.”

  I left him where he was and went to speak to Patrice.

  She was waiting for me, clearly shaken.

  “That little shit. He knew all along, and Marvin Moore was Quinlan’s accomplice, and that freaky bastard lied through his big, yellow teeth.”

  “Or Grady’s an accomplished liar, which wouldn’t be a stretch.”

  She touched her temples. “Damn it. Wait until I tell Zabrina. That ought to be enough for her to kick him to the curb.”

  “Don’t say a word to her. We need to know how much she knew and what she suspected. I may have to be tough on Zabrina, so don’t come storming in there to save her.”

  I won’t.

  ZABRINA WAS IN INTERVIEW ROOM THREE, on the other side of the observation room. She had a real knack for looking small and pathetic. Her “pity me” face, the diminutive way she held her body; her arm in a sling added to the persona.

  “Zabrina, do you have your own key to your grandmother’s Dexter Lake house?”

  Her mouth turned down into a frown. “Yes.”

  “Where do you keep it?”

  “On my key ring, with my other keys.”

  “How many keys do you have on that ring?”

  She’d lifted a finger for each key she counted. “The Logan house, the lake house, my dorm room, Grady’s house, my car, the garage—that’s six. Why?”

  “What do you think your boyfriend told me?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Her eyes were blinking like hummingbird wings. She crossed her legs and started bouncing her shoe against the table leg. I found it interesting that she was so fricking nervous.

  “First, tell me what you know about Robert Quinlan.”

  She stopped kicking the table. “Um, well, he’s Grady’s biological father.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” I actually had no idea if she’d ever seen the man.

  She looked up to the right then left as if trying to remember—or deciding what to tell me.