Addie dashed out the back door. Paige’s words rang in her mind. She had seen that in her chalkboard scribblings, but to hear the actual words made Addie realize there was no way Bill, as Simon had suggested, killed Brett. Aside from the fact that he had no way to move the body, his words the night before proved he cared deeply for Martha and the entire family. He would have never framed Martha for the murder. Bill was in more trouble than she had thought before. If the killer went to all the trouble of staging the scene, it proved this wasn’t a random act, and he, or she, wanted Martha to pay for something.
Chapter Thirty-One
Addie pulled up along the curb in front of the fire station, checked her mirrors to make sure she was a legal distance from the hydrant, and headed toward the open, double-wide bay doors exposing the large but empty garage inside. The only vehicle in sight belonged to the fire chief, Keith Hubert, and was parked along the far side of the wide driveway. She peered around the door. Having never been in a fire station before, she had no idea what to expect, but the emptiness certainly hadn’t been what she had pictured. On the television shows, groups of men and women sat around drinking coffee, shooting the breeze, or were cleaning equipment. The eerie silence bothered her.
“Hello, is anyone here?” No answer. She stepped inside the bay. “Hello?” Her voice echoed back at her.
Keith poked his head out from behind a shelf of canisters, a pen clamped between his right ear and ginger hair. “Addie? What a surprise.” He tucked a clipboard under his arm and extended his hand in greeting. “What brings you by today?”
“Hi, I hope it’s okay.” She glanced around the empty bay. “I’ve never been inside a firehouse before, and I must say it’s nothing like I expected.”
He tossed his head back with a chuckle. “Yeah, it’s not quite as glamorous or romantic as you see in the movies, is it? It’s pretty much a lot of grunt work and preparing for the next call.”
“Is that where everyone is?”
“Not now. The day shift is refueling the two engines and the pumper. As you can see”—he waved the clipboard—“I’m doing inventory. It doesn’t get much more glamorous than that,” he said with a short laugh. “But what brings you in, or did you want a tour?”
“Actually, I was hoping to speak to a few of your crew.”
“Is there a problem I should know about?”
“No, no, not at all. It’s only that last night I was speaking with Logan Ashmore and—”
“Yes, Logan, a fine young recruit. He’s going to do well here, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s taken up with our little Paige. He can’t do better than that, can he?”
“Well, you and I think so because we both think the world of her, but he told me that Old Bill—”
“The homeless guy who’s always a pain in our butts?”
“How so?”
“He refused for years to go to the shelter and would set up camps anywhere and everywhere. Camps that were nothing but a pure fire hazard not only to himself but to everyone and every building in the vicinity.”
“Well, yeah, aside from the fact that he is homeless and trying to keep warm, he does have some issues that have led him to that life.”
“I agree, but we have to think about the community as a whole and have to make every effort to put an end to his dangerous behavior.”
Addie was taken aback at the force of Keith’s voice. This sounded personal, and she wondered if Keith was aware that Bill still held a torch for Martha after all these years.
“Anyway, Logan mentioned that you had given orders for them to roust Bill from his camps whenever you come across them.”
“Yeah, like I said, it’s for the safety of the community, but I’m in desperate need of a coffee. Would you like one?”
“Sure, that would be great. I’ve kind of been on the run all morning and haven’t had my fix yet.”
“I have a fresh pot in my office, follow me.”
Addie followed Keith past a couple of smaller offices, and on the right, there was a sign that said STAFF ONLY. “That’s our bunk room for the night shift,” he added as they passed. When they reached the end of the long hallway, he gestured toward another room. “And this is the common area. We eat, play, and watch television in here, and over here”—he turned to his left and walked past a small picture-windowed office to a larger one that looked out over the common room—“is where I call home.” He sauntered over to a table and poured two cups of coffee. “Cream or sugar?”
“Just cream, thanks.”
He handed Addie her steaming cup. “Now, where were we?”
“I was looking for suggestions from some of your crew as to where I might find Bill. Places they’ve chased him from in the past that maybe he’s returned to.”
“Why is it important for you to find Bill?” He peered at her over the rim of his cup.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware,” Addie said, leaning back against a desk, “but Bill was with me when I discovered that man’s body behind the bakery last Sunday.”
Keith took a sip. “I had heard something about that.”
“And Bill mentioned that he saw Brett on the beach late Saturday night.”
“He did, did he?”
“Yes, and then he told me there was someone else there.”
“Did he say who that someone else was?”
“No, that’s why I have to find Bill now. He seems to have disappeared, and I think whoever that other person was, is the killer. Finding that mystery person is the only way to prove Martha had nothing to do with the death.”
“Look, as far as I’m concerned, Brett Palmer got what was coming to him.” His cheek twitched. “The person who killed him should be congratulated not condemned. He did everyone a favor.”
“You said he. Did you see who else was on the beach? Did you see the murderer?”
The dark-blue vein in his temple bulged and pulsated. He glanced away and took a swig of his coffee. The fine hairs on Addie’s arms quivered. “You were there. Did you find out it was Brett who had stolen Paige’s book?”
He didn’t answer.
“Keith . . . did you know about him stealing the book? Did you hear him on the phone with Amber talking about it?”
“That’s not all that scumbag was going to steal.”
“What do you mean?”
Keith spun toward her. Tiny beads of perspiration glistened on his brow, and he pinned Addie with a look of pure revulsion. Spittle sprayed from his mouth. “He planned on taking Emma and disappearing with her, him and that no-good woman of his.”
“I don’t understand.” She pressed back hard against the edge of the desk. Pain shot across her hip.
“Like I said, whoever killed him did everyone a favor.” Without taking his eyes off her, he clicked the top of his pen, propelling the ballpoint tip out of the pen casing. A distant glaze fell over his eyes as he toyed with it.
“Of course”—a knot twisted in Addie’s gut—“why didn’t I see it before? You’re the other man Bill saw on the beach, aren’t you? That’s why he was so scared. You’d made his life difficult, and he was terrified that if he was the one to give you up to the police, everything would get worse, and you’d make sure he was hounded even more”—she searched Keith’s unblinking eyes—“or worse . . . kill him for doing the right thing.”
The fire burning behind his eyes reflected on his face as he took a step toward Addie and thrust the ballpoint pen tip in her throat. “Remember, I’m also a trained medic. I know exactly where to plunge this in order to silence you.”
“That’s . . . that’s right. You’re trained to save lives not take them.” Addie winced with the pain of the edge of the desk in her hip. “That’s why I didn’t—no, couldn’t—suspect you. You’re not a killer.”
“Don’t test me,” he said as he pressed the tip deeper into her flesh.
“Keith, you’re not a murderer. You’re the fire chief, a pillar of the community. A loving husband, and the father of two
beautiful children who worship you, so don’t do this.” She stared down her cheek at the pen firmly clasped in his hand. The placement against her throat matched the wound on Brett’s neck. Her gaze of comprehension met his equally fierce one mere inches from her face.
“Is this what happened with Brett, Keith? You overheard him on the phone, talking about his plan to kidnap Emma, and it made you so mad that you grabbed the first thing you could, an icicle, and went after him and stabbed him in the throat like you want to do with me?”
His glassy eyes wild, he studied her warily and dug the tip deeper. “I only wanted to scare him, but when I confronted him about what I’d heard, he told me I was crazy and said to mind my own business. He laughed at me, and accused me of having unnatural affection for Paige.” Spittle sprayed across Addie’s cheek, and she cringed when the fine tip of the pen chafed the skin on her throat.
“Then he ran off. I chased after him and caught him by the rocks. He told me he had the book and was going to sell it, and that’s what he and his new family were going to live off until he could get another teaching job.”
“I imagine that made you very angry because we all know that you thought of Paige as your daughter. You couldn’t stand by and let this interloper take away the one thing you both loved—Emma. Could you?”
“That’s right,” he said, his hot breath searing her cheek. “It would have destroyed Paige. I begged him not to go through with it, but he laughed. I pressed the icicle to his neck just like this and—”
“Stop, Keith, you’re not a killer.” Addie’s chest twisted as he pressed the tip deeper. “You killed Brett to protect Paige and Emma, but if you kill me, that’s different. If you turn yourself in, the courts might go easy on you because you did it to protect your family. Killing me to shut me up is something different.” She sucked in a wobbly breath. “Think about your wife and children. Do you want them to live with knowing you killed two people, and the second was only to save yourself, not to save your family? If you go to the police now and tell them exactly what happened and why it happened, then I’m sure a judge will understand.”
He snorted. “But I’d lose Mellissa and the kids for sure! No, I can’t.” His jaw set firm.
“You’ll lose them if you kill me, too. So, please, put the pen down and let me drive you to the police station.” For the first time, his eyes opened to her, and she knew he saw her. “Listen to me, it’s Addie, you know me, and I know that you’re not a murderer. You tried to stop a bad thing from happening, and it got out of control, right?”
His hand shook, and he nodded mutely. Then he and the pen dropped to the floor. His head in his hands he sat weeping. “What have I done . . . what have I done?” Rocking back and forth, he wailed. “Poor Martha, I never wanted to hurt her, too, only to make her experience some of the pain I felt when she told Mellissa to leave me and take the kids away.” He flung his head back. “I’m so sorry. Will they ever be able to forgive me?” Tears streamed down his ruddy cheeks.
Addie bent over the sobbing man and helped him to his feet. As they staggered toward her car, it struck her that if he hadn’t been on the beach at that exact time and happened to overhear the conversation between Brett and Amber . . . Addie shuddered to think of what might have been come Sunday morning when Brett was scheduled to pick Emma up for a supposed day visit—a day that would have concluded in an endless nightmare for Paige and her family. Although Keith didn’t handle the overheard kidnapping plot in the way he should have, by taking it to the police and not trying to stop it himself, she couldn’t help but feel some compassion for this man who loved his family so much that he killed to protect them.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Addie sat hunched over a cup of cold coffee. She glanced up at the clock above the front desk and cringed. Two hours since she’d given her statement and still not a word about what was going on now. All she had been told was to have a seat and wait until they were finished with Chief Hubert.
She pulled her cell phone out and shoved it back in her pocket. Where is Simon? Probably in surgery. When she’d sent out her text to tell him she was at the police station with the murderer, she expected a reply of some sort. Nothing but silence. Just like from Marc or Detective Brookes.
Marc’s office door opened. Ryley came out, glanced fleetingly at Addie, and whispered something to Jerry behind the desk before going back into Marc’s office. She left the door open. Jerry rose and went through the doorway behind the desk, and Addie edged forward in her seat, straining to hear what was being said in the office. But it was no use. She was too far away, and all she could make out were low mumblings. Jerry returned with three cups of steaming coffee in his large hands and took them into the office, came back out, and resumed his seat. He glanced up at Addie and returned to whatever it was he was working on behind the desk partition.
She sat back in her hard-plastic chair, took a swig of the coffee, and cringed. She rose and walked over to the desk. “Hey, Jerry, is there any chance I can get a cup of your coffee? The stuff from the machine is pretty foul.”
Jerry eyed her. “Sure, as long as you stay put. I’ve had my orders.” He chuckled as he disappeared through the door behind him.
Addie, ears pricked, edged down the long counter. She could hear Keith’s voice as it rose in pitch, followed by a monotone mumbling. But the words were too muffled. Jerry returned and eyed her. Addie smiled innocently.
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” She took the cup, and under the shadow of his suspicious gaze, retreated back to her seat.
Minutes ticked by and turned into another hour. She retrieved her texts from Paige, careful not to reveal what she was doing at the police station. How on earth could she tell her in a text that the brother-in-law she adored was guilty of murdering her child’s father? No, that was something Paige and the rest of the family would have to hear in person. For now, she only said it had something to do with the investigation, and she’d be back as soon as Marc was done talking to her.
Addie jumped when a hand fell on her shoulder. “Simon!” she cried, and leapt to her feet. “Am I ever happy to see you.”
“Sorry, I was in surgery when your text arrived and only just got it.” He glanced at Jerry and nodded. “Why are you here, and what’s this about bringing the murderer in?”
“Sit”—she pointed to a chair—“and I’ll tell you all about it.” Addie filled Simon in on the details of her morning adventure, and when she finished, she took a much-needed sip of her coffee.
“Who’d have thought?” He sat back and raked his hand through his thick black hair.
“I know, right? Keith wasn’t even on my radar, but now that I think about it, he should have been. Right from the start, we knew he was at the beach late. I just don’t know how I missed putting two and two together.”
“I think it’s more a matter of none of us wanting to believe it, not that we ever considered the possibility.”
“Maybe you’re right. He was so devoted to Paige and Emma. He’s been part of their family most of his life as Mellissa and he began dating in middle school. Martha treated him like a son.”
“Until he cheated on Mellissa.”
“Yeah”—Addie sat back—“and then she turned on him.”
The office door opened, and Detective Brookes led a solemn-faced Keith, his head drooping, out of the room in handcuffs and ushered him through the back door. The thud of his duty boots echoed on the staircase leading to the cells below.
Marc waved at Addie from the doorway. “Simon, you might as well come, too.” He disappeared back inside his office.
Addie looked at Simon, a hesitant smile on her face. She’d spent many an hour sitting in Marc’s office, discussing a case, but never in the company of his onetime rival for her affections.
Simon gave her a reassuring grin. “I am the coroner after all. I probably should hear what he has to say.”
“Of course.” She exhaled and headed through the door, and took the seat she h
ad often thought of in the past as hers. Her hands stroked the smooth wooden arms. Memories came rushing back as she gazed across the desk at Marc’s somber face.
“This is a tough one,” he said, his voice cracking, “and one that’s going to rock the entire community to the core. Many of the people we know and care about are going to have a hard time dealing with this.” He shuffled the papers on the desk in front of him.
Addie was at a loss for words. His eyes were tearing up, and she could tell by the set of his jaw that he was fighting the urge to cry. Discovering that Keith, his lifelong friend, had killed someone appeared to have shaken him badly.
Simon leaned forward. “I think by what Addie has told me about the circumstances, this wasn’t premeditated, so I’m guessing he won’t be charged with first-degree murder.” His soft and even voice gave testament to the compassion he used with patients who were experiencing a life-changing diagnosis or trauma. Pride rushed through Addie. Trust Simon to find calm in a difficult situation and to help Marc save face in front of them.
Marc nodded and dropped the papers. “From what the chief said in his statement, it appears to be a case of voluntary manslaughter.”
“Voluntary?” Addie sat upright and gripped the chair. “Shouldn’t it be involuntary manslaughter? He didn’t mean to do it. He was trying to protect Paige and Emma and prevent a kidnapping from occurring.”
“That’s true, and I’m sure the DA will take all that into consideration, but unfortunately”—his gaze dropped—“there was anger involved in his attack on Brett, which led to the death. It didn’t occur by way of an accident—say, a slip and fall on the icicle. It’s considered voluntary.”
Simon placed his hand over Addie’s and gave it a light squeeze. “He’s right. Involuntary manslaughter is the unintentional killing of a person by someone who has no spite or anger, and who has no intent to kill the victim. It’s generally a death that occurs due to an unforeseen accident.”
“But Keith didn’t intend to kill Brett. He just wanted to stop him from taking Emma.”
A Page Marked for Murder Page 23