“So when do you want to come over for a sleepover again?” Hellie asked hopefully.
“I don’t know,” Mariana said hesitantly, waving to her father as they passed him. “Daddy’s getting really nervous about me leaving again.”
“Why?” Hellie asked. “My mom and dad won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I like your mom and dad,” Mariana said shyly. “But my dad doesn’t know them. And even if he did...” Mariana looked at Hellie secretively. “He even fights with Aunt Hannah when she wants to take me somewhere.”
“Why doesn’t he like his own sister?” Hellie exclaimed.
“I don’t know,” Mariana whispered. “I think Mommy knows, but I don’t want to ask her.”
“No, don’t bother your mom,” Hellie whispered back. “And Hannah wouldn’t want you to. I overheard my dad tell my mom that you and your mom were Hannah’s ‘top priority’.”
That made Mariana feel even worse for her aunt. “I know we are. So I don’t understand why they’re fighting.”
Hellie stuck out her tongue. “Grownups don’t make any sense most of the time. My mom and her friends are always arguing about something, but they don’t seem like they’re really mad.”
“Maybe they just like to argue.”
“See?” Hellie said triumphantly. “They don’t make any sense!”
Mariana became more serious as her father called them over. “We should get going soon.”
“But we just got here,” Mariana whined.
Josh looked at his watch. “That’s not exactly true,” he said, but he was smiling. “I’ll give you guys ten more minutes.”
“Thank you, Mister Bruges!” Hellie said quickly.
“Thank you, Daddy!” Mariana said as she threw her arms around her father. “And then can we get Mommy another balloon before we leave? She liked that one so much.”
Josh pulled out of the hug. “They’re not selling balloons today,” he said in such a way that Mariana wondered why he was mad at her. He patted her head again. “But we’ll find something else to get Mommy, okay? Go play some more before we have to go.”
“Where do they have balloons?” Hellie asked as they began their circular route again. “You mean those?” She pointed to the clown twisting skinny balloons into flowers and animals.
“No, this was a real balloon, and it wasn’t a clown. A nice lady had it.”
“How much did it cost?” Hellie asked as she reached into her pockets.
Mariana shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it was free.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Let’s review,” Baptiste said as he sipped his coffee in his office. Robert knew it would only be a matter of minutes before he’d reach for his Tums. “Who do we have? Tell me who had means, who had motive, and who had opportunity, and maybe we’ll find the person who had all of them.”
“Hilary Sayles Abassadi,” Robert said after considering the list.
“Make the case.”
“She had access to his house. He’d also probably had her husband killed.”
“Do you think she knew that before he was killed?”
Robert shook his head. “Those were real tears when we told her. And even if she had, Sheldon was her best chance of staying out of prison.”
“Mmm.”
“You like her for this?”
Baptiste lifted his chin. “I like her for the way he died: she’s the kind that could have hit him that hard when angry.”
“Yeah. And if she were five inches taller, I’d like her better for it.”
Baptiste shrugged. “Next.”
Robert wrinkled his forehead. “Abassadi’s family.”
“Really?”
“They find out Abassadi was killed in Hong Kong. They’d look at Hilary first, if they have any brains, but if they’d ever met her or done any background on her, they’d rule her out pretty quickly. One, she was a flake, and two, she was in love with him. She couldn’t have killed him herself because she was here.”
“She could have killed him for the estate, which would have really pissed them off.”
“Except that his grandfather was smart enough to give him a life interest in the estate but not let him come into the money outright until the fifth birthday of his first child.” Clearly, a family that had been burned before. “So far, Amir was childless. If she killed him for the money, she would have been out of luck.”
Baptiste frowned. “As far as Sheldon, I like it as far as hacking into his security system.”
“That, and maybe they could find someone experienced enough to make this look like a robbery to cover their tracks.” Robert sighed. “But why would they go that trouble?”
“I also don’t like them for the blows to the back of the head,” Baptiste said. “That doesn’t seem like their style.”
“That’s where I get caught up, too,” Robert admitted. “The great uncle is a piece of work, and I’d expect anyone connected to him to draw out a vengeance murder or put a spin on it that was a statement to show us that they could.”
“Does the family even have agents in this city?”
Robert remembered the night he found Hannah in the club. “Why don’t we ask the FBI?” he offered sincerely, but Baptiste laughed.
“Who’s next?”
“Mariela Bruges.”
Baptiste opened his hand. “Go on.”
“She and her young daughter were direct victims of Sheldon’s human trafficking operations. No one,” Robert said heatedly, “had more motive than she did.”
Baptiste frowned. “But she was hurt by Abassadi, not Sheldon. And isn’t she suffering from extreme agoraphobia? No, I don’t like her for this. Cross her off your list. Next.”
Robert crossed his arms. “Joshua Bruges. If nothing else, he’s good for means. He’s tall enough to have bashed Sheldon’s head, and he’s got a temper.”
“But?”
Robert rubbed his chin. “And he was good with computers growing up.”
“But...?”
Robert faced his long-time mentor and captain. “Let’s say I’m so into Hannah I forgot how to do my job. So I’m inclined to treat her brother with kid gloves, right? But if I’m that kind of idiot, then the fact that he can’t be civil to her for more than two minutes would put him at the top of my list.”
“Glad to hear it,” Baptiste said. “But he looks good to me. And his alibi is his wife?”
“Yep.” Robert could understand that reasoning. “But why? Yes, he knew Sheldon was a scumbag, and he knew he was pulling Hilary’s strings, but Josh isn’t...calculating. He knew that Hilary was the one who had put Mariela in that hellhole and kidnapped his daughter. If anyone was going to be in danger, it was her.”
“Should we put a protective detail on her?” Baptiste asked dryly.
“Yeah, let me get right on that,” Robert said sarcastically as he sipped his coffee.
“Next.”
“Richard Hendrickson.”
Baptiste pulled a face. “This had better be good.”
Robert blew out an exasperated sigh. “He is the only one who would have had motive and enough means to create the opportunity. Oh yeah, the guy’s tall.” Robert cocked his head to the side. “And of everyone, he’s the only one I can see being smart enough to make this look like a robbery to throw us off. And he made sure to point out that there had been a robbery. If he hadn’t been there, we would have missed it until the insurance company let us know.”
“Go on.”
“But much as I can’t stand this guy, he’s not a murderer. I saw him the night Sheldon crashed the MFA benefit. He was pissed, but not enough to kill anyone.”
“Does he have an alibi for the time of death?”
“His wife.”
Baptiste laughed, then reached for his Tums. “Jesus, Bob. Fine. Keep him, with a big question mark. Next.”
The moment they’d both been waiting for. “Lucy Bartolome.”
“Get this over with.”
/> “She’d want him dead more than anyone other than Mariela Bruges. He blackmailed her into marrying Jim Hendrickson when he knew she was a lesbian and forced her to have that man’s child. She’s ready to leave her husband when her father-in-law Gerald Hendrickson dies, but then Sheldon’s role might come up. So he does an end-run around her and tells Jim first, and he takes it badly.”
“You’re absolutely sure that was a suicide?”
Robert scratched his chin. “I checked the coroner’s report a few years ago, and I double-checked it a few days ago. Powder burns on Jim Hendrickson’s hands, close range to the right temple, and Jim Hendrickson was right-handed.”
“And?”
“And Richard Hendrickson believes it was a suicide and he knew his father better than anyone.” Robert twisted his mouth. “And Sheldon did not like to get his hands that dirty. The only time anyone has ever connected him to an assault was Stephen Abbot, and that was in the nineties.”
“Didn’t he also put Michael Abbot in the ER once?”
“Fine, the Abbots pushed his buttons, but most other people weren’t worth lifting a finger for.”
Baptiste opened both of his hands in exasperation. “Have we ever seen any evidence that Lucy Bartolome was any different?”
Robert clenched his jaw. “No. Even if she didn’t have an airtight alibi, I can’t see her doing it. But the question is whether or not she could have ordered it.”
“Of course she could have,” Baptiste said irritably. “The question is why she would do it in Boston where she’d immediately be a prime suspect.”
“Because she’s so pissed that he’s not living in the misery she’d laid out for him?” Robert offered hopefully.
“Has she ever been the kind of woman who acts out when she’s angry?”
Robert frowned. “No.”
“Thank God,” Baptiste muttered, popping another Tums. “What about her wife?”
Robert had thought about her too. “Joanna’s motives are almost identical to Lucy’s. They also have the same alibi, and it’s solid. Oh yeah, while she may come into a windfall if Lucy dies before she does, they’re keeping their money separate at this point. So even if she wanted to hire someone to kill Sheldon, she’d have a harder time paying for it.”
Baptiste shrugged. “Next: Hannah Bruges.”
“Fine,” Robert said after a pause. “She knew more about what Sheldon had done than anyone, and he bailed out the woman who was holding her sister-in-law and niece hostage.”
“And?”
Robert’s nostrils flared. “And she probably could have hacked into Sheldon’s schedule and security system without any problems.”
“And?”
“I’m not the best alibi for time of death.”
“So why haven’t you brought her in for questioning?”
“Because she didn’t do it.”
“How do you know?”
“For one thing, she’s also not tall enough. Plus, murder’s not her style.”
“Why is that again?” Baptiste prompted.
“Because she’s a lot like Lucy,” Robert admitted even though it made his stomach churn. “Only she’d want to see him rot in jail, not get off on watching him know his world was crumbling around him. And smashing someone’s skull isn’t how she’d kill someone.”
Baptiste frowned. “And how would the illustrious Miss Bruges murder someone?”
Robert had thought about this, too. “I don’t think we’d find the body.”
“So could she have helped someone?”
“Yeah,” Robert answered thoughtfully.
“But?”
He shook his head. “She thinks she’s a superhero, not an avenging angel. The last thing she’d want to do is lose track of his network.”
“And we’re sure she didn’t track all of that down already?”
This he knew. “Henry Chin assures me that if Hannah is even half-right about how much Sheldon had going on, it would take years to track down all of it from scratch.”
“Fine,” Baptiste said reluctantly. “But if you’re saving a space for Hendrickson, save a space for her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now get out. And, Bobby?”
“Yeah?”
“You’d better not be missing something right underneath your nose.”
Robert saluted on his way out the door. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Are you kidding me?” Robert asked no one in particular when he got to his desk and read the messages. “This looks like an actual break!” He returned the call, spoke briefly to the officer on the other line, then smiled to himself as he went through his files.
Twenty minutes later, a young man—no, kid—was sitting across from him in one of the interrogation rooms. “Bryson Diaz?” The kid didn’t say anything. Robert shrugged. “Your fingerprints say yes, and this picture says that’s you.” He slid one of the stills from Manchester to the kid. “Where’d you get the stuff, Bryson?”
Bryson blinked. “I don’t have to talk to you.”
“True,” Robert said slowly, “but between you and me, Bryson, I’m not interested in you. I want the person who gave you the stuff.”
Bryson swallowed. “You’re not looking at me for the murder?”
“How tall are you?”
“Five nine.”
Robert could tell he was padding his height by two inches. “No, I’m not looking at you, and in no small part because the person who hit my victim was at least five eleven. That, or he was standing on a chair. What?” Robert asked when he noticed Bryson smirking.
Bryson cleared his throat. “Nothing, man.”
“I am not looking at you for murder or theft, but I can make accessory after the fact stick pretty well if I have to. I don’t want to, but if you’re holding out on me, I will. Now what’s so funny?”
“Man, I don’t know anything about a murder—”
“And don’t lie to me because you obviously knew the stuff you moved was connected.”
“Yeah, but not until the day after.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Look, the person I got this from...you’re not looking for a guy.”
Robert leaned back, trying to hide his surprise. “You got the stuff from a woman?”
Bryson nodded. “But that’s all I can tell you. She was sitting down when I met her, and she was wearing a baseball cap. Her eyebrows were, I don’t know, brown maybe. Hazel eyes, maybe. White. But she didn’t get up once so I can’t tell you even how tall she was.”
“What about her build?”
“I don’t know,” Bryson said, trying not to sound nervous. “Her clothes were baggy, but I don’t know by how much.”
“Fine,” Robert said. “How did you meet up with her?”
“This guy sent me a text. Said there was a way to make a quick hundred, but I’d have to ditch school that day and take my sister’s car. Man, I swear to you, my sister had nothing to do with this...and I’m hoping we can keep her out of this.”
Robert nodded. “Go on.”
“And then he said to meet at the Au Bon Pain at the Pru and talk to the lady in the baseball cap.”
“And then?”
Bryson shrugged uncomfortably. “And then she gave me money, a box of stuff, and an address to go to.”
“Who’s the friend who sent you the message?”
“Oh, man, I don’t know,” Bryson mumbled.
Robert leaned in. “I am telling you kid, do not lie to me. You think my captain isn’t breathing down my neck for me to make an arrest in this thing?”
“But he didn’t do it!”
“Give me a name.”
“My older brother,” Bryson said reluctantly. “But I know he didn’t do this, okay? All he did was drive to Plymouth and drop off some stuff too, okay?”
“The older brother who was caught with you when you were shoplifting?”
Bryon’s eyes filled with tears. “No, man, you guys got that wrong! He fol
lowed me that day because he knew I was lifting stuff and he was trying to get to me before I got in trouble, and then he got in trouble with me.” Tears streamed down his face. “He’s a good guy who looks out for the family and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he didn’t kill anyone and he didn’t steal anything either and that is the truth.” Robert didn’t say anything. “Forget it, man,” Bryson said as he wiped his face. “I want a lawyer,” he said defiantly. Then louder. “I. Want. A. Lawyer.”
There was a knock on the glass. Robert left the room and found Baptiste waiting for him. “Get a sketch artist, get that kid some soda—and a lawyer—and then bring the brother in. The best we can get is a description.”
“Yes, sir,” Robert said as he walked back into the room and started going through the motions. What he couldn’t forget: the kid met with a woman he couldn’t describe. Just the way Hannah would make herself if she had to.
—
“Are you sure?” Robert asked the forensics technician.
The man laughed. “Yes, the same cell phone was used to text both of your witnesses.”
He already knew that the cell phone was a burner, and he confirmed that it had been prepaid in cash. The man who had sold it said the woman was nondescript: baseball cap, sunglasses, white, nothing that gave away her age, although he could rule out younger than twenty and older than sixty. Medium height. Only enough to rule someone out, not enough to make a positive ID.
But... “And we can give you the other three numbers the cell phone called.”
“Man, I want to buy you a beer.”
That cell phone may have been a burner, but the numbers she used weren’t. The four other pigeons came in, all of them in various states of young and hungry, and one was a little desperate. Robert stopped her after she provided one too many details. “You knew she was a brunette how? I thought you said her hair was covered up be a baseball cap and the sunglasses covered her eyes?”
“Yeah, well,” the girl mumbled, “she sounded like she had dark hair.”
Everyone else had the same description, but Bryson’s brother Devon also mentioned her voice. “It wasn’t a girl’s voice; it was deeper. I mean, it wasn’t a deep voice, like a man, but I could tell she wasn’t young. I mean, she wasn’t old, but she wasn’t a kid in college or something like that.”
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