The Burnt Remains
Page 24
Dean was quiet for a while, perhaps considering turning me into the funny farm. “You realize the only way to prove any of this is to track down Stella Vernon, don’t you?”
“Probably,” I said. “But it should be easy enough to prove Radoslaw didn’t murder her. He’s terminally ill, and his wife and nephew mysteriously disappeared after he turned himself in. What do you want to bet that if we check Vernon’s finances again we’ll find another large withdrawal, one that went to Radoslaw’s family in exchange for a fake plea of guilt?”
“Most likely,” said Dean. “And it was probably a sweet deal for both parties, or at least it would’ve been for Vernon if this expose in the Statesman hadn’t come out. Now, instead of garnering sympathy for his dead wife at the hands of a psychopath, he’s stuck fending off criminal and civil suits alike. Hell of a turn.”
I felt a massive smile come on. “So you’re with me? All we have to do is find Stella and we can prove I’m right!”
“That’s where things get tricky,” said Dean. “Honestly, I think it might be better to let sleeping dogs lie.”
My face fell. “You can’t be serious? You’re going to let this go when we’re so close to cracking it? When we’re so close to actually knowing for a fact what happened?”
“It’s not that simple, Phair,” said Dean. “For one thing, Captain Ellison closed the cases. If you’d unearthed ironclad evidence that pointed to someone having murdered Stella Vernon, you bet I’d take it to him, but you don’t have evidence. You have a compelling story, one that suggests Stella took her own life—or didn’t. Legally speaking, I have no idea if it could be classified a suicide or not. My point is, it’s possible it’s best that the people behind bars stay there.”
“Gillian, yes,” I said. “We have her cold on blackmail, but not Radoslaw. He didn’t murder anyone.”
“Maybe not,” said Dean. “But filing false testimony is a crime, too, and how long does Radoslaw have to live? A few months? A year? Clearly he decided a hefty payment from Vernon was worth spending his last few gasps suffering in prison, at least for his family. And have you thought about what happens if we prosecute Vernon for paying him off? The money paid to Radoslaw’s family gets taken away, and Radoslaw stays in jail.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “Okay. But at least Vernon gets what’s coming to him.”
“The wheels are already in motion for that,” said Dean. “If you’re right about Stella, she made sure of it. Everything we need to put Vernon away on fraud charges is downstairs with Watts and Lajoie. But I think you’re missing the biggest reason to close the book and stop reading now. Because this way Stella goes free instead of getting ten to fifteen years for blackmail and falsifying her death. Doesn’t she deserve better than that? To walk off into the sunset with her thieving husband’s cash, forever free from their toxic relationship?”
My chair squealed as I leaned back in it. I brought a knuckle to my lips and chewed on it a little. I’d never considered what was best for everyone involved, just what the truth of the matter was. “What if I’m wrong though? What if Bumblefoot or someone else mailed the evidence to the Statesman? What if the feathers were planted? What if Stella really was murdered? Are we just going to leave it be?”
Dean smiled. “I’ve told you this before, and I’ll tell you again. In this job, you never know the full truth. The closest you get is a vague approximation based on bits and pieces that never fully coalesce. That said, when the story makes sense, you can feel it. In here.” He tapped his chest. “And either you’re one hell of a storyteller, Penelope, or you already know the truth of what happened.”
Dean’s confidence buoyed me. Not a ton, but enough. “My friends call me Nell, actually.”
“Nell it is, then.” Dean’s phone rang, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Give me a sec.”
Dean grabbed the receiver and pulled it to his ear. “Alton Dean speaking.”
I sank into my chair, wondering if Dean’s praise was more for my story-telling ability or my deductive instincts. Both were compliments, but there was more to be proud of from the latter than the former. I momentarily lost focus as I thought it over, but when I regained my senses, I noticed Dean’s face had turned to stone. The fingers with which he clutched the phone had gone white, and a vein in his neck pulsed.
“Who is this?” he said. “How did you get this number?”
My brow furrowed, but I didn’t say a thing. At the edge of my hearing, I heard a processed voice leak from the phone’s speaker.
Dean’s face remained frozen until I too heard the click through the line. “Hello? Hello?”
“What is it?” I asked. “Who was that?”
Dean’s arm dropped at his side, but he didn’t let go of the phone. He stared past me, as if I’d disappeared. “If he was to be believed, that was the Tarot Card Killer.” Dean blinked and met my gaze, his eyes hollow. “He said he’s going to kill again, Phair. Tonight.”
About the Author
Hi. I’m Alex P. Berg, author of The Burnt Remains. Phair may have flexed her investigative muscles in this novel, but she’ll need more than her wits and gumption to survive the next case. Will Phair and Dean be able to stop the Tarot Card Killer before he paralyzes the city with fear? Find out in Divination and Rot.
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Can’t wait for the next Penelope Phair adventure? Well, have you read my Daggers & Steele series? It features Nell’s great-grandparents and homicide detectives extraordinaire Jake Daggers and Shay Steele, back when New Welwic was just going through the industrial revolution. The complete ten book series is available now, so what are you waiting for! Read it today! You can even buy the complete series in a single low-priced omnibus volume.
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Want to connect? Visit me at www.alexpberg.com or contact me on social media.
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For a complete list of my books, please visit: www.alexpberg.com/books/.