“I don’t think anyone thought it important back then,” I said. “From the sounds of it, Joe and Christine had a good relationship, so it wasn’t like anyone believed she’d cheat on him.” And yeah, I was pretty sure I’d tell the cops if someone I knew and loved vanished and had been sneaking around with some strange guy beforehand, but not everyone thought like me.
Chester frowned and drummed his fingers on his desktop. “What do you know about this guy? Did anyone give you a description?”
“Not really,” I said. “No one got a good look at his face. The only thing that keeps coming up is how he was always in a suit.” And then, because it kept playing over and over in my mind, I said, “Martin Castor wears a suit.”
Chester’s face clouded over. “I’m aware of that.”
“Do you think he could be the man we’re looking for? I was told he is one of Harry Davis’s friends, so it would make sense if they were working together.”
“It’s possible,” Chester said before leaning forward. “But, please, stay clear of Martin Castor. I was never able to prove he had anything to do with Christine’s disappearance, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t participate in it. He . . .” He shook his head and sat back, unable—or unwilling—to say whatever had popped into his head.
I had no intention of putting myself in any further danger, though if it came down to it, I might end up having to have a little chat with Martin, especially if Harry kept coming around harassing my daughter.
“Did you ever find out if Erik Deavers is who he says he is?” I asked, deciding to alleviate one more of my fears while I was at it.
Before Chester could answer, there was a knock at the door and an awfully familiar voice called out.
“Mr. Chudzinski? It’s Erik.”
Chester’s face brightened. “Let’s ask him ourselves, shall we?”
I opened my mouth to beg him to wait, but it was already too late.
“Come on in,” Chester called.
The door opened and Erik entered, a worried expression on his face. When he saw me, his entire demeanor changed. He reached out and gripped my hands in his own.
“Thank you so much for coming when I called yesterday,” he said. “I contacted the police after you left and they eased my mind considerably.”
“Please,” Chester said. “Take a seat.”
Erik released my hands and eased down into the chair next to me.
“Erik came to see me after the cops paid him a visit at his hotel room,” Chester explained. “We went over details, for verification purposes only.” He gave me a telling look. “Erik was able to provide sufficient evidence that he is, indeed, Christine’s son.”
“That’s good to hear,” I said, glancing at Erik to see if he was offended. He merely smiled at me. I hated to ask, but I needed to know. “Do you know for certain if Joe was your father?”
Erik shrugged. “I wish I could say yes, but all I have is Mom’s word. I have no reason to doubt her.”
“Neither do I,” Chester said. “And I’m sure Erik would be willing to take a DNA test if it comes to that.”
“Whatever I can do to help.”
“Did the police find any evidence of who broke in to your hotel room?” I asked.
“No,” Erik said. “But I think they have a few leads. At least, that’s the impression they left me with. Mr. Chudzinski is helping me with a few details.”
I realized that meant I was delaying their meeting. I rose. “I’m glad to hear everything is working out,” I said. “I’d better go.”
“If you hear anything else . . .” Chester said.
“I’ll call you right away.”
“It was good to see you, Liz,” Erik said. “If you get a chance in the next couple of days, there’s something else I’d like to talk to you about. It’s not important now, but I’d like to discuss it before I leave for home.”
“Of course,” I said, before slipping out the door and letting them get down to business.
Amelia was leaning against her desk, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, as I closed Chester’s office door.
“I wasn’t going behind your back on anything,” I said before she could speak. “I didn’t want to disturb your work.”
“Uh-huh.”
I didn’t want to fight, so I motioned to her laptop. “Did you find anything?”
Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “Not a lot. I’ve been trying to find a connection to Harry Davis and the Danvers family, but so far, I’ve come up blank. Same goes for a man named Martin Castor. Heard of him?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know you knew about him.”
“Chester told me to see what I could dig up.” Amelia patted her laptop. “I have this feeling that one of those two men killed Joe Danvers, but I can’t figure out which, or why. I’ve been working here online, rather than doing face-to-face meetings.”
Noting the concern in her voice, I asked, “Is that what Maya’s doing?”
Amelia glanced toward the door, as if she hoped to see Maya walk in at that very moment. “Yeah. She’s talking to a few people, but Chester warned us off of confronting either Harry or Martin directly.” She made it sound like her boss was hamstringing the investigation. “Has your police detective friend learned anything new?”
“Detective Cavanaugh isn’t my friend,” I said. “And, honestly, I haven’t spoken to him much about it. He wasn’t in the last time I was at the station.”
Amelia frowned. “I was hoping he found a print or something that might help.”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Though, I figured I should pay Cavanaugh a visit before long to see what, if anything, he’d discovered. While none of this was really any of my business, I had found Joe’s body. Cavanaugh didn’t owe me anything, but I could always play the angle of a distressed witness to get a little something out of him.
“I should get back to work.” Amelia rounded her desk and sat in her chair with a weary sigh. “I didn’t bring enough coffee for this.”
I wished her good luck and then made my way to my van. As much as I wanted to get back to Manny to see how he was doing, thoughts of Detective Cavanaugh had me setting my sights on the police station instead. It wasn’t too far away, so it wouldn’t take me long to make a quick stop and see where the investigation stood. I could always check in with Manny afterward.
Fate, of course, had a different plan for me.
My phone rang just as I started the engine. I answered without glancing at the screen.
That was a mistake.
“You!” Courtney’s shrill voice had me jerking the phone from my ear. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me!”
I gave it a moment to make sure she was done before I replied. “What am I supposed to have done this time?” I asked.
“You know. Meet me at my place. Now.” She hung up without waiting for me to respond.
“Great.” I dropped my phone into the cupholder like it was responsible for the call. It would be so easy to just ignore Courtney’s wishes and go about my day like she’d never called.
But did I really want to deal with the consequences of ignoring her?
With a weary sigh that mirrored Amelia’s own, I put the van into gear, and headed for what was sure to be a headache-inducing meeting with Courtney Shaw.
22
The moment I shut off the engine next to Courtney’s pink van, she came storming out the front door of her house. She was dressed as if she was going on a date, with a tight skirt and thin blouse, complete with high heels, yet the expression on her face was anything but date friendly. I debated on simply leaving and avoiding the whole mess, but decided it best if I faced it now so she didn’t end up showing up at my front door later.
I got out of my van and waited for her to reach me.
“How could you do this to me?” she shouted. Her voice was so high-pitched, it caused me to wince.
“I didn’t do anything to you, Courtney. This is all on you.”
�
�I’m not the one who told Duke to stop helping We Luv Pets! You poached him! I know it!” She stomped one high-heeled foot. “Just because your family can’t handle their own business, doesn’t mean you need to interfere in mine.”
I took two calming breaths before I spoke so I didn’t end up yelling. “Duke made up his own mind. Maybe you should have thought about the consequences of your actions before you went and dropped off someone else’s dog at my place.”
Her mouth slammed shut so hard, I was afraid she might break a tooth.
“Look, Courtney, I don’t have a problem with you.” Mostly. “I’m perfectly content to let each of us run our rescues how we see fit.” I held up a finger when she opened her mouth to speak. “But . . .” I eyed her, made sure she was listening, before going on. “I will not tolerate you trying to sabotage me. Duke left you because of how you were acting. It had nothing to do with me. It’s all on you.”
A flurry of emotions washed over Courtney’s face as I spoke. Anger. Guilt. Embarrassment. Something akin to pity had me softening my tone.
“I’m sorry about Duke, I really am. He stood by you for a long time, but you finally pushed him too far. Maybe if you find a way to work with me, rather than against me, perhaps he’ll come back. Just don’t try to lay this at my feet.”
Courtney swayed where she stood, as if rocked by my little speech. I hoped that some of my words finally hit home and she’d extend a truce, and that, somehow, despite everything, we’d find a way to coexist.
My hopes were, of course, in vain.
Disgust splashed across Courtney’s face. “I can’t believe you’d try to blame this on me,” she said. “I can’t believe you don’t realize what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?”
“Call Duke. Tell him to come back to me, where he belongs.”
“I’m not going to do that, Courtney.”
Her eyes flashed in anger. “You’d better.” Another foot stomp. “I won’t take this lying down, Liz Denton. I will take everything from you.” Her grin was practically a sneer. “Even Manny, if that’s what it takes.”
Before I could sputter out another word, Courtney spun on her heel and marched back to her house. At the door, she shot me a withering look, before she stormed inside. Her entire house rattled when she slammed the door closed.
“Why did you bother calling me out here if you’re just going to walk away?” I shouted after her, but if I expected a response, I didn’t get it.
I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised by how the conversation had gone, but I was. I expected accusations, sure. I expected some anger too. But to flat out ignore her own role in what happened?
Then again, this was Courtney I was dealing with. I’m not sure she’s ever taken responsibility for anything in her life.
Since there was nothing else I could do, I climbed back into my van. Maybe after a few days, she’d see reason. There was no reason we couldn’t find middle ground.
Putting Courtney out of my mind, I backed out of her driveway and focused on bigger troubles.
Thankfully, the Grey Falls police station was much quieter this time around. There were no women protesting outside, no hint that anyone of any importance might be locked away. I did wonder how that had panned out, but decided that I didn’t really care. I parked, got out of my van, and then headed for the station.
When I reached the doors, I did note a Travis McCoy sticker had been stuck to the door and a glossy substance wiped over it. Someone had tried to pick it off, but whatever the glossy stuff was, it prevented easy removal, so only the tiniest corner was missing.
With an amused shake of my head, I entered the police station. Cops were lounging around, some working, others merely gabbing. A few heads rose when I entered, and then lowered again when they realized I wasn’t anyone important.
I started for the desk where Officer Mohr was seated, looking miserable, when I heard a voice from down the hall.
“I know.” Detective Cavanaugh sounded flustered. “I’m doing everything I can.”
There was no response I could hear, so I assumed he was on the phone.
“I get that. I understand. I will.” It was followed by a growl that told me he must have hung up.
A few moments later, Detective Cavanaugh himself strode down the hall, into the reception area. He paused when he saw me, then veered over to where I stood.
“Mrs. Denton,” he said. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Is everything okay, Detective?” Cavanaugh was looking pale, and his eyes had dark circles beneath them. From the tone of his voice, I knew for a fact that things were indeed not okay.
“It’s fine,” he said with a sigh. “I’m fine. It’s just . . .” He glanced back to where a few other cops were pretending like they weren’t listening in, before he gently took me by the arm and led me to the door. “Meetings.”
“Meetings?”
“Every day, almost every damn hour. I can’t get anything done.”
“What about the investigation into Joe Danvers’s murder?”
“I’m doing what I can, but Mr. Wright has claimed most of my attention for the last couple of days.”
“Mr. Wright?” I asked. “As in Sterling Wright?”
“The one and the same.”
“Isn’t he a civilian?”
“He is,” Cavanaugh said. I noted there was some resentment in his voice. “But he’s an important member of our community. He’s on the city council. Hell, he runs the council. If he decides he wants to involve himself in something, no one is going to stop him.”
Something clicked in my head then. “He was at Joe’s house, wasn’t he?”
Cavanaugh nodded. “He’s taken an interest in the case. Says it hurts the image of Grey Falls that this hasn’t been wrapped up as of yet. Apparently, he was around when Christine first vanished and is using that to put pressure on us to get things done faster.”
“Doesn’t he realize how forcing you into meetings is impeding your investigation?” I asked, more annoyed than anything. If Cavanagh wasn’t working the case, then who was? Me? Chester Chudzinski? Even if we found something, there wasn’t much we could do about it without police support.
“He does.” Cavanaugh ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair. “But city business comes first, apparently. Once I finish with the meetings, I do what I can, but by then, everyone is either asleep, or too far into their drinks to be of any use to me.”
I considered adding a visit to Sterling Wright to my list of things to do, but decided against it. I got why he was angry. Wright had been on the council forever—likely was back when Christine first vanished—and now that Joe was dead, the failure to find her, or prove Joe’s innocence, had to make the police look bad, which, in turn, made the town look bad.
But why did that matter to him so much?
Higher aspirations. If he involved himself in the case and Joe’s murder could be solved, it would make him look good.
“I’ve got a meeting to attend,” Cavanaugh said, cutting into my thoughts. “If you’re here to see me, you’d better spit it out now, or else you’ll have to wait.”
It took me a moment to align my thoughts. “It’s about Joe Danvers’s murder.”
Cavanaugh groaned, but didn’t look surprised. “All right. Out with it.”
“I ran into someone who might have seen something the night of the murder.” I told him what Jack told me about the car he’d seen, without actually using Jack’s name. I didn’t want him to get into trouble for avoiding the police.
“He didn’t get a look at the driver?” Cavanaugh asked, scribbling notes into the notepad he always kept with him.
“He didn’t,” I said. “But it has to mean something, doesn’t it? A strange car that obviously doesn’t belong rolls by right around the time Joe dies. I doubt it’s a coincidence.”
“It could be,” Cavanaugh said. “But I’ll look into it.” He glanced at his watch. “Later, I suppose.
Is there anything else I can do for you?”
I considered telling him about my suspicions about Martin Castor, but decided it could wait. At this point, Cavanaugh looked impatient to go and I didn’t want to distract him any more than he already was.
“No, that’s it.”
Cavanaugh left with a warning to watch my head. I almost followed him out the door, but saw Officer Perry watching me. I waved to him, and then motioned him over. He rose from his seat with a wince I’m not sure anyone else saw, and then he joined me by the doors.
“Mrs. Denton.”
“Liz, remember,” I said. I was going to have to start wearing a nametag that said CALL ME LIZ so I could stop having to remind everyone.
He smiled. “I do, Liz. How’s your son, Ben?”
“Good.” Or so I hoped. “I have a quick question for you.”
“I aim to serve.” He dipped his head in something of a mock bow.
“You mentioned Detective Wayne Hastings the last time we talked.”
“I remember.”
“You said he didn’t listen to you when you raised concerns about Harry Davis’s eyewitness account.” I paused, uncertain how to phrase my next question without making it sound like an accusation. The two men were colleagues, and while Reg hadn’t been happy with being ignored, he had said he had fond memories of the retired detective.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I won’t get offended by whatever you have to say.”
I sincerely hoped not. “Do you think it’s possible Detective Hastings knew what happened to Christine Danvers?”
Reg’s expression darkened. “You believe he covered it up?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “He was the detective in charge, so he likely had more knowledge of the case than anyone. Yet, he believed Harry, even knowing that Harry was prejudiced against Joe and Christine from the start.”
“So, you think he was covering for Harry?”
“Or Martin Castor.”
Reg shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Wayne made mistakes; we all do. But I never once believed him dirty. He did the job, and in most cases, did it well. He would never help a man like Harry Davis get away with a crime. He wouldn’t have it in him.”
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