by Susie Gayle
I follow Melinda into the den and she closes the door behind me. Then her thin smile vanishes and is replaced by what seems like genuine fear.
“Will,” she says in a hoarse whisper, “you can’t possibly believe that I have anything to do with this.”
“Oh, I think it’s well within the realm of possibility for me to believe it.”
Wide-eyed, she protests, “I’m practically your mother-in-law!”
I roll my eyes. “Come on. Just last night you told me how little I mean to you, remember? Let’s look at some facts, Melinda. One: you were off on your own during the time of the murder. No one knew where you were and you weren’t answering your phone. Two: your pearls mysteriously disappear, and then I find one at the scene of the crime.”
“I told you, they were stolen—”
“Three,” I say over her, “and probably the most important: last time you were here in town, you threatened to ruin me and my business by whatever means possible. You’re in town for less than twenty-four hours and someone shows up dead in my shop? And I should chalk that up to coincidence?”
“We are talking about murder! This is far more serious than anything I would ever do!”
“Melinda, if I’ve learned anything being an investigator, it’s that you can’t underestimate anyone. People are capable of far more than you imagine, and that goes for anyone—even you.”
“Then… why didn’t you give the pearl to the police?” she asks.
I hesitate for a bit too long.
“It’s because you don’t really think I did this,” she adds.
“No,” I tell her. “It’s because so far this visit has meant a lot to Sarah, and it would destroy her to think you’re a suspect.”
“So she doesn’t know?” Melinda says with hope in her voice.
“She doesn’t know yet. But I’m telling you now, I’m going to get to the bottom of this, and I really, really hope I don’t find you there.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Okay then. What store were you in when the pearls were stolen?” I ask her.
“I… I don’t remember the name of it. I was in and out of a dozen stores, at least.”
“What street was it on?”
“I don’t know the street names around here!” she declares.
“Wow, you’re batting a thousand so far.” I shake my head. “Tell me this, then: if your pearls were stolen, why didn’t you report it to the police?”
“I did!” she says fervently. “I did! Or at least, I tried to. I called them, but no one was available at the time. They must have been busy with your… shop.”
“Uh-huh. So you just gave up?”
“No, I left a message with the desk officer. I waited for a while, but no one called me back so I left.”
Well, isn’t that convenient. It’s not like I can call up Patty Mayhew. Hey, did Sarah’s mom report pearls stolen? Because I need to make sure she didn’t kill the groomer.
“You must have at least told the shop clerk that your pearls were missing,” I comment.
Melinda scoffs. “I did a lot more than that. I accused her of being the one that swiped them!”
“And she denied it?”
“Of course she did. Who would admit to that?”
“I gotta say, this isn’t looking great for you.”
“Will, please—”
The doorbell rings and on the other side of the closed den door, both dogs go nuts, barking their heads off.
“That’s probably Uncle Max,” I tell her. “But like I said, I’m going to look into this.”
“I hope you do.”
CHAPTER 10
* * *
On my way to the front door, Dennis cuts me off at the foyer.
“Will, two minutes?” he asks.
“Sorry, Dennis. One thing at a time. As soon as I’m done here we’ll talk, okay?”
I open the front door to find a solemn-looking man, tall and thin like Lindsay, bald on the top of his head with a neatly trimmed gray and black beard. He wears a blue suit with a black tie and a large gold ring on the hand that he extends to shake mine.
“Hello, I’m Max Barker.”
“Will Sullivan. Please, come in.”
Max enters the foyer and sighs deeply. “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan, for everything you’ve done for my niece today. This isn’t your problem, but we sincerely appreciate your help.”
“Call me Will,” I tell him. “And it’s no problem. Happy to help.”
I usher him into the living room. Upon seeing Uncle Max, Lindsay rises slowly to her feet, but otherwise shows little light in her eyes. He crosses to her in a few long strides and hugs her tightly for a long moment.
“You poor, poor girl,” I hear him murmur. “First your mother, and now this… it’s too much to bear.” He grips her shoulders and looks her in the eye as he tells her, “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you.”
I head into the kitchen to give them some privacy. Dennis stands there with his arms folded and his foot tapping the floor impatiently.
“Okay, Dennis. Let’s talk.” This time it’s he and I that go into the den and shut the door behind us. “What’s so important that you need to tell me right now?”
“Alright, listen.” He starts to pace, gesticulating with both hands as he speaks. “When me and Lindsay went to get pizza, we didn’t actually get pizza. We got to the place, and she said, ‘Oh no, I forgot my purse.’ I offered to run back and get it for her, but she insisted that I stay there and wait and that she’d just be a minute. And then she ran off.”
I shake my head. “So?”
Dennis throws up his hands in exasperation. “So? Aren’t you listening? She was alone when Adam was murdered! She wasn’t with me.”
I frown. “You’re suggesting this could have been her?”
He shrugs a little. “Unfortunately… yes.”
I roll my eyes. “No way. They had a business together! They lived together! What motive could she have to kill her own brother?”
“I don’t know,” he says, “and frankly, neither do you. We don’t know these people.”
He’s got a point there. And I did just tell Melinda that anyone was capable of just about anything, under the right circumstances.
“Okay. Thanks, Dennis. I’ll keep that in mind.”
We leave the den and head into the kitchen at the same time that Max comes in from the living room.
“She’s asleep,” he tells us. “I think all this finally caught up to her. I hope you don’t mind if we hang around just a tad longer.”
“Not at all,” Sarah says. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d love some,” he admits. “Black, please.”
While Sarah pours him a cup, I lean against the refrigerator and ask casually, “I couldn’t help but overhear you say ‘first your mother, and now this’?”
“Will!” Sarah scolds me.
“What?” Did I make some sort of faux pas? I thought it was a good conversation starter.
“No it’s okay,” Max says, graciously accepting the coffee. “Thank you. It’s kind of a long story, Will. You see, Adam and Lindsay’s father—my brother—passed away about four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nods. “Their mother, she was never quite the same afterward. She went into some sort of near-catatonia; it was very bizarre. You could converse with her, and she would do things, perform tasks, but it was all very mechanical; it was like the life had just been sapped from her. Adam and Lindsay moved into her house to help take care of her. Then, about eight months ago, she too passed.” He shakes his head. “Truth be told, none of us expected her to even last that long.”
“Jeez.” So Lindsay lost her father, her mother, and now her brother inside of four years.
“That poor girl,” Sarah murmurs.
“The real shame,” Max continues, “is that I just filed the beneficiary agreement yesterday, and now t
his happens.”
“Beneficiary agreement?” I ask.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He smiles sadly and shakes his head. “I’m an attorney in Bridgeton. When their mother died, she didn’t leave a will; according to intestacy laws, Adam and Lindsay would split her estate fifty-fifty. They’re good kids, and they didn’t want anything coming between them, so they asked me to be their third-party administrator—all that means is that I document and list the assets, get them appraised, and then write a beneficiary agreement detailing what each of them will receive. I did this all for free, of course. They’re family. But now, with Adam gone… I’ll have to rewrite the agreement so that Lindsay gets everything.”
Dennis shoots me a furtive glance. I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Oh, hello,” Max says suddenly. I turn to see Melinda enter the kitchen, stopping short when she notices that we have a new guest. Max rises and shakes her hand. “I’m Max. I’m Lindsay’s uncle.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Melinda, Sarah’s mother. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”
“And Dennis’s mother,” Dennis grumbles under his breath.
“Thank you,” Max tells her. “We’ll be out of your hair soon, I promise.”
“Oh, take all the time you need, Max,” Melinda tells him. (Thanks for offering up my house, Melinda.)
“I appreciate that.” Max smiles warmly.
This time I shoot a glance at Sarah, who frowns back at me. Did Max and Melinda just have… a moment?
I sidle up to her and whisper, “Sarah, I’m going to run into town for a couple of quick errands. I’m taking Dennis with me. Think you can hold down the fort?”
“Do these ‘errands’ have to do with our current situation?” she whispers back.
I nod.
“Go, I’ll take care of things here.”
“Thanks.” I give her a quick kiss on the forehead and then turn to Max. “Excuse me, I just have to run out briefly. Stay as long as you need.” To Dennis I add, “you, you’re coming with me.”
CHAPTER 11
* * *
“Where are we going?” Dennis asks as we head toward downtown in my SUV.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that she hasn’t cried?” I ask aloud.
“What?”
“Lindsay. She hasn’t shed a single tear or expressed real grief.”
He shrugs. “Some people don’t. Plus, you heard what Max said about her mother, that she went into some kind of shock-state and never recovered. Maybe that’s happening to Lindsay.” He pauses and adds, “or, maybe she killed her brother.”
“Can’t rule it out.” Especially considering she now stands to gain everything from their parents’ estate.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” he asks again.
“You’re going to the pizza place. I’m going elsewhere.”
“Say what?”
Recreating the scene in my head, after Dennis and Lindsay left for the pizza place, I received the call from Sarah. I went outside to talk. Then Sammy came up; we tried to get back inside, and went around back. I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think it took more than five or six minutes for all that to happen.
“I want you to retrace your steps from the Pet Shop Stop to the pizza place,” I tell Dennis. “Do you remember the pace you were walking with her?”
“More or less, I guess,” he says.
“What did you talk about while you were walking?”
“Uh… we talked about the grooming business, and she mentioned how great it was that you and Sarah were giving them an opportunity.”
“Okay. I want you to try to replay that conversation in your head while you walk.” That’s a memory recall trick that I learned while getting my PI license; recalling specific conversation can help someone remember details of what was happening around them, even if they weren’t that cognizant of them at the time. “When you got there, what happened?”
“Um, we were looking at the menu board for, I don’t know, only a few seconds before she said she forgot her purse. I offered to go get it; she insisted that she go and she ran out. I waited for her, but instead I got your call to come back to the shop.”
“Alright. I’ll drop you off in front of the pet shop. Do you have a stopwatch app on your phone?”’
“Everyone does, Will.”
“No need to be a smart-aleck. Start it there, retrace your steps. Play the conversation back in your head as you go. Then, once you’re at the pizza place at the same time that she ran off, I want you to run as quickly as you can to the back door of the pet shop and tell me how long that takes.”
“Any why am I doing all of this?”
“Because it’ll tell us if Lindsay had enough time to drown her brother and get out of there before Sammy and I discovered him.”
“Oh.” He’s silent for a long moment before he quietly adds, “I really hope she didn’t.”
I roll up to a stop at the curb outside the Pet Shop Stop. The sign is flipped to “closed” and it looks like the police have since finished up their work here.
“Me too, Dennis. But this is important; I need you to focus. You can’t fudge this just because you like her.”
“Hey,” he says defensively, “you know I wouldn’t do that.” He starts to get out of the car but pauses. “Where are you going to be?”
“Shopping,” I tell him. “Do it twice, just to be sure, and call me when you’re done.”
***
While Dennis is retracing his route, I head down to Main Street, the main touristy drag of Seaview Rock and the most likely area that Melinda was shopping—assuming she was shopping at all.
I start at one end of the strip and go into the first store that sells any sort of jewelry, a place called Charms by Charlie. I ask the woman behind the counter if she recalls a woman in here earlier that may have lost her pearls.
“She would’ve been an older woman in a skirt and blazer, auburn hair, kind of stuck up?”
The clerk shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t recall anyone like that being in here this morning.”
Next I head into Seaview Tchotchkes and repeat my inquiry, only to be told a similar story.
“A lot of people come and go,” says the sales associate, “and my memory’s not that great.”
“You probably would’ve remembered this one.” Still, no such luck.
I get the same results at Pandora’s Box and Family Jewels. After a few blocks of searching I finally hit gold—coincidentally at a jewelry store called the Gold Vein.
“Oh, I remember her,” the saleswoman says, annoyed. “She was in here trying on necklaces. She said she was looking for one for her daughter. And then she accused me of stealing her pearls!” The woman narrows her eyes at me. “Did she send you here?”
“No, no. Nothing like that; I don’t believe that you took them. What I really need to know is, do you remember her wearing them when she came in?”
The woman shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t recall. She came in while I was helping another customer. I can’t account for everyone that comes through those doors, you understand.”
“I understand. Thank you.” I head back out onto the street and take a heavy seat on a bench. It would seem like I could dismiss Melinda as a suspect on account of her actually being here and her story being true, at least the way that she tells it. The only way that Melinda could still have murdered Adam is if she realized that she lost the pearls, ran over here, and accused the shopkeeper of stealing them so that she’d have an alibi. Calling the police would have just been icing on the cake.
But in order for that to be true, she’d have to be very sneaky and a really good liar—both of which I think Melinda has a capacity for.
My cell phone chimes with a text message from Dennis that simply says, Done. I head back to the Pet Shop Stop to find him standing on the curb outside waiting. We sit there in the car with the engine idling.
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“I did it three times,” he tells me, “just to be sure. I retraced our steps as well as I could, and each time it came out to between four and four and a half minutes.”
I sigh. If I’m right and Dennis did things correctly, that means that Lindsay could have potentially had up to two full minutes to sneak into the back door, lock the front door, and drown her brother.
“Morbid question,” I ask, “but how long does it take to drown someone?”
Dennis looks at me, wide-eyed, and says, “I can honestly say I’m glad I don’t know the answer.”
I call Sarah to let her know we’re on our way back and see if she needs anything.
“No, just hurry back,” she says. Then she lowers her voice and adds, “Max and my mom really seem to be hitting it off, and it’s kind of creeping me out.”
I almost laugh—and then I quickly remember that we’re in the middle of an unofficial murder investigation. “What about Lindsay? Is she still asleep?”
“For now, yeah.”
“Well, not for long,” I say. “I have some questions for her.”
CHAPTER 12
* * *
Dennis and I get back to the house to find Sarah busying herself in the kitchen, washing out coffee mugs. She looks up at me expectedly and asks, “Well? What’d you find?”
“Nothing good,” I tell her.
In the nearby dining room, I hear Max saying, “I never had any kids of my own. So naturally, I spoiled Adam and Lindsay growing up.”
I peer into the dining room to see both Max and Melinda at the table across from one another, each with a mug of coffee in front of them.
Max shakes his head sadly and says, “To be honest, I’m terrified that what happened to her mother will happen to her too. If she doesn’t snap out of this… I don’t know what I’ll do. It’s just me and her now.”
Melinda reaches over and puts her hand on Max’s. Then she looks up and sees me standing there and quickly pulls her hand back. I shoot her a small glare for good measure and retreat back to the kitchen.