by Pamela Tracy
“That it was him who did it, or you don’t know why he’d want to scare you?” Oscar asked.
“I don’t want to talk about my ex-husband.”
“You’re going to have to. This is no longer a simple car breakdown but vandalism. The brooch turning up is also a big concern. If your ex-husband is back in the area, we might have an opportunity to catch him. We’ll need your help.”
“I gave my help last time you went after my husband. It did no good and made me a nervous wreck. I can’t afford the mental anguish.” She looked from him to her stomach and back to him. “I can’t offer my help.”
“You might not have a choice,” he advised.
“There’s always a choice.” She turned and headed for the stairs to her apartment, leaving Oscar watching her retreat.
“I just wish,” Oscar muttered under his breath, taking one step in her direction. Her apartment door slammed, a clear message that she didn’t want anyone to follow.
Oscar opted to drive the SUV back to his aunt and handed her the keys. She took them and said, “Jack’s in the living room.”
“Did he book a room?”
“Yes.”
“And Tiffany?”
“She’s here right now, but I don’t see her staying long. We don’t offer the kind of room accommodations she’s used to.”
Oscar paused in the doorway, taking out his cell phone and sending a quick text to Townley letting him know about the GPS tracker. Then, stepping into the living room, Oscar walked over to Jack and sat beside the man. Jack was staring at his hands and didn’t look up. Peeve trotted in and sat to the left of Oscar, politely waiting for attention. Oscar knew how important a moment of silence could be, and he knew this man, knew how much he’d loved his daughter.
There’d been a time after he’d joined the service when Oscar felt detached from the people he worked with, worked for. Then, in Afghanistan, away from all he knew and loved, when Oscar’d had to follow orders, trust those in his company and get close to them—closer than he’d gotten to friends in the civilian world—he’d felt a shift in the way he looked at life.
In some ways, the military had saved him.
He’d never thought about why he’d been so gung ho to join. Maybe he’d been looking for his father, trying to find the man he remembered from childhood. The type of man who wouldn’t walk away from his wife and children.
And along the way, Oscar’d gotten a taste of how important it was to serve and protect.
It was too late for Candace but not too late for Shelley.
Where had that thought come from? He was getting too attached to Shelley, and the sooner he admitted it, the sooner he could maybe deal with it.
“Jack,” Oscar finally said, “we’re doing everything we can to find out who committed this awful crime, and when we do...”
Jack looked up, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks splotchy.
“I’d ask you how you’re holding up.” Oscar cleared his throat. “But I already know the answer.”
“What’s happening with the case?” Jack’s voice was thready. The man was battling for composure. “What do you know besides what the news has been reporting? I want the truth. All of it.”
“We’re calling it a home invasion,” Oscar said. “We’re looking for a male, probably a small male.”
“What did he take?”
“As soon as Cody is out of the hospital, he’ll go through the house. It was torn up, although we’re not sure what the person was looking for. Nothing seemed missing from her purse. Her wallet was there with fifteen dollars, her credit cards and driver’s license. There’s plenty of jewelry in her top dresser drawer.”
Jack’s hands balled into tight fists. “That’s where she always kept it.”
“We’ve sent her personal computer to a lab. The television and cell phone were untouched.”
“So, no fingerprints?”
“Not on the furniture. We’ve taken an impression from the nylon shirt she was wearing, but not a solid print. We’ve been able to ascertain only hand size. That’s how we know the assailant was small.”
“Could it be a woman?” Jack asked.
“Possibly,” Oscar said. “We also believe that if something was taken, the culprit either knew where it was...or she might have been forced to tell him where it was,” Oscar admitted, not liking the word forced but knowing Jack wouldn’t want him to sugarcoat.
“Is—” Jack stumbled “—is Cody a suspect? Has he been one hundred percent cleared? Is there any doubt? I—I don’t believe he did this.”
“He’s given us his itinerary and everything checks out. Plus his hand size isn’t a match.”
“Why wasn’t he home with her?” Jack burst out.
Slowly and carefully, Oscar shared what they knew about Cody’s activities, including his desire to make more money and move Candace away from Sarasota Falls.
“I told them,” Jack said. “I told them I’d help. I’d have purchased them a house just down from me, us, and Cody could have worked for me at the office. But no, they wanted to make it on their own.”
Oscar’s aunt came in with a tray. “Here’s hot tea,” she said, “and you both need to lie down and get some rest. You won’t be any good at all if you don’t take care of yourselves.”
“I can’t sleep.” Jack accepted the tea.
Oscar stood, accepted a cup and said, “I’ll take this to my room. I work graveyard shift again tonight, and you’re right. I want to be ready both physically and mentally.”
He and Peeve left them, with Bianca sitting next to Jack, patting his hand and telling him how awesome his daughter had been.
* * *
OSCAR WOKE ON his own, an hour before the alarm, and dressed for work. Thursday nights were sometimes busier, and since Candace’s murder, there’d been an increase in crime. Burglaries had doubled. There’d been four reports yesterday. Oscar had also arrested three drunk drivers this past week.
Tonight he had more on his schedule than usual, and most of it had to do with Candace. Funny, he’d come here to get close to Shelley, and he finally was. Just not how he’d planned.
When he closed the door behind him, his watch read straight-up seven. The sun still shone and the quietness that had overtaken the neighborhood continued. It was a waiting kind of quiet and one he knew well. All he could do was put one foot in front of the other and hope he made the right decisions. He started by going to the Duponts’ house. They were neighbors of Candace and Shelley. The Duponts had a twelve-year-old son who was in a wheelchair. The mother often took the boy for walks at odd hours.
“Tom was already here.” Gerald Dupont was a slight man, pale, with soft hands. He led Oscar into an old-fashioned living room. “Not sure what else we can add. Told him everything.”
Tom? Oscar had never heard Chief Riley referred to by his first name, not at the station or in town. When Oscar and Riley went anywhere together, everyone called him Riley.
Oscar sat on an olive green couch that had seen better days. Almost immediately Gerald’s wife came in, handed Gerald a beer and asked Oscar if he wanted something to drink.
“No, thank you.” Oscar took out the small notebook he kept in his shirt pocket. “I’m on duty, but please sit down. I have a couple of questions to ask you.”
She glanced at her husband and hesitantly perched on the end of a flowered chair.
Oscar noted the exchange and was curious.
“I know that Chief Riley was here and asked questions. But I’m hoping to come at it from a different approach. You had met Candace and her husband, right?”
“Yes,” Gerald said impatiently. “You know that. One time you participated in a conversation we had in front of her house while I was out walking with Timothy. You had your dog with you.”
Osc
ar remembered. Gerald Dupont hadn’t liked his conversation with Candace interrupted, and Peeve hadn’t been impressed with the man. “Right,” Oscar said. “Besides then, did you talk to her?”
“No.”
“How about you?” Oscar asked Mrs. Dupont, feeling even more strongly there was a story here and one that focused on her husband.
“Nothing more than a wave as Timothy and I explored the neighborhood together. When we found out the extent of Timothy’s prognosis, I quit work. Gerald’s busy earning a living, and I take care of Timothy.”
Except for the one time Gerald did it two weeks ago. Oscar hadn’t thought much of it, but now he wondered why Gerald had been taking Timothy on a walk.
Maybe Gerald had wanted to meet Candace and had seen her in the front yard, gardening.
“Did you and Timothy go for a walk on Sunday evening or Monday morning?” Oscar pushed away a lock of hair tickling his forehead. He could feel the first faint traces of sweat starting to form.
“Both,” Mrs. Dupont answered. “I try to take him outside three times a day.”
“Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”
“No, not really,” Mrs. Dupont admitted. “Do you think something happened Sunday night? It was really late when I took Timothy that night. Gerald wasn’t feeling good, so I stuck around until he fell asleep. Then Timothy was cranky. It took me a while to get him in his chair. It was midnight by the time we took a look around the neighborhood.”
Oscar had read the report. Almost word for word, Mrs. Dupont was sharing the information she’d shared with Riley.
“And Candace’s light was on at midnight?”
“Yes, when we started out, but when we returned, it was off, and it couldn’t have been more than a half hour. When it’s that late, I don’t stay out long. You never know what might happen.”
Oscar decided not to mention that Mrs. Dupont had been safer outdoors than Candace had been indoors.
“Chief Riley seemed to focus his questions on Monday morning,” Mrs. Dupont said. “I figured it was because the light had been turned off. There wouldn’t be enough light for the killer to see. I told him that Timothy and I had gone our usual time then, just after seven. I try to get back by eight because Timothy and I go into the city on Mondays for his therapy.”
“Can’t get any home health care here,” Gerald said. “No one to do it.”
Oscar knew that if someone wanted something bad enough, it could be arranged. He figured Gerald to be the kind of man who felt his wife should do everything. He also thought about Shelley and her adherence to schedules.
Carefully he recorded the times in his notebook. “Do you ever see Shelley Wagner when you’re out on your walks?”
“No, Oscar, we don’t,” Gerald said. “We don’t have the kind of money her husband seemed to be attracted to, and we’re careful. I’ve told Julie to avoid the woman. We don’t want trouble.”
Ironically, it seemed to Oscar that this guy was trouble. He also wasn’t much impressed that Gerald Dupont called him Oscar. It tended to make them peers, and Oscar didn’t want to be this man’s peer.
“I appreciate your time.” Oscar stood, the room suddenly feeling cold even though the late evening held the remnant of the May sunshine. He’d get nothing from Mrs. Dupont while Mr. Dupont was in the room. Luckily he now knew that Julie Dupont walked Timothy at seven in the morning. Oscar was usually at work, but one day this week, he’d get off early and walk Peeve. They’d just happen to run into Mrs. Dupont, and Oscar could get his questions answered then.
After Gerald Dupont walked him to the door and firmly shut it behind him, Oscar took a deep breath. He’d started to feel claustrophobic. It had been a few months since the feeling of confinement had sent him onto the seat of his motorcycle and riding for hours until he chased away the demons that had followed him home from his last tour.
Abigail Simms, who lived across the street from Aunt Bianca, was next on the list. She welcomed him in, and his feelings of claustrophobia went away as she gave him bottled water, sat him in a flowery armchair and gave him a pleasing look when her poodle, Buttercup, jumped in his lap.
“Chief Riley’s already spoken to me,” she said. “Candace would come down here and ask me gardening questions. I actually went to the store with her and we picked out some perennials. Did you know she’d never worked in the dirt before?” Abigail Simms didn’t wait for an answer. “Course, now that I know her father owns the Little Supermarket chain, I understand. They probably had a lawn service come in once a week to do everything. What’s the fun in that?”
Oscar didn’t have an answer. Growing up, he’d pulled weeds and dug holes. He hadn’t enjoyed it at all.
“I told Chief Riley that I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary Monday morning, but at about five in the morning, Buttercup here started barking.”
After saying goodbye to Abigail, Oscar took Peeve for a walk. The dog pulled at the leash, happy to be outside. Oscar was just as happy. When he got back to his aunt’s, he grabbed one of her homemade brownies and sat at the kitchen table, adding details to his notebook. Once he got to work, he’d type them into the timeline he’d created on his computer.
His cell sounded before he finished. “Where you at?” Riley queried.
“I’ve been working. I’ve spoken with both the Duponts and Abigail Simms.”
“I already did that,” Riley protested.
“Since they’re neighbors, I thought they might remember a few details once prompted.”
“Either of them confess?”
Oscar snorted. “Abigail’s mourning the loss of a fellow gardener, and as for the Duponts...”
“He’s a piece of work.”
“I wondered if you knew them well. He kept calling you by your first name. Then he did it to me.”
“They’ve been in Sarasota Falls only ten years.”
“What does he do? I don’t remember.”
“He’s an insurance agent and has an office downtown. He also owns the laundry and dry-cleaning store right next to it.”
“I can’t see him working in a dry-cleaning store.”
Riley laughed. “He has three employees working for him, and I doubt he’s paying them what they’re worth.”
“I hear you. Have you checked him for priors?” Oscar asked.
Riley returned, “You telling me my job?”
“No,” Oscar said slowly, wishing he were on equal footing with Riley. It would make things so much easier.
“Good. Of course I ran him. He’s got a few speeding tickets and one disorderly conduct.”
“For what?”
Riley chuckled. “Public urination.”
Oscar shook his head. “There’s nothing on his record mentioning his wife?”
“You picked up on that, too? No, nothing.”
Over the phone, Oscar could hear someone talking to Riley, and the other officer gave a few curt orders. Then he got back on the line. “Two things. One, the brooch is a fake. How did you know?”
“Shelley told me to check it out,” Oscar replied. “She said it was just the way her mind worked.”
“What do you think?” Riley queried.
“I think we know Shelley is afraid of something. Only problem is, why would Larry Wagner return a useless brooch? Why put himself in danger of getting caught?”
“Larry is very capable of and enjoys playing mind games.”
“This worries me,” Oscar said. “He’s trying to scare Shelley, and it’s working. She’s eight months pregnant.”
Riley snorted. “Don’t tell me what I already know. Look, you’ve been spending time with her, earning her trust. Find out what’s going on, and do it quickly before something happens. In the meantime, we have an accident out on the 285. No injuries, but a
truck hauling baby pigs—of all things—tipped over, and we’ve got about two thousand pigs to catch.”
“Can you call an animal control—”
“Small town,” Riley reminded him. “We are animal control. I’m heading out there now.”
“I can go.”
“No, I need you to concentrate on this case. Every hour that goes by means Candace’s killer is walking free.”
Oscar agreed and ended the call. As soon as Shelley finally did open up to Oscar, he’d find and shut down Larry Wagner, and then Sarasota Falls would become a memory, pigs and all.
And because Shelley was part of Sarasota Falls, it would be a memory Oscar wouldn’t be able to forget.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FRIDAY MORNING, Shelley walked Ryan to school and then sat on a bench outside and stared at her phone. She felt safe here as parents were in and out, dropping off their children. A few gave tentative waves, but no one came to sit by her.
“I wish I could get rid of this phone,” she muttered. There were six messages waiting for her: one from Chief Riley and five from Oscar. She hadn’t answered any of them, including the one from last night.
Deputy Guzman, she corrected herself.
The man who’d said, “Maybe it was the murderer, but maybe it was your ex-husband.”
He was figuring things out without her help. No way, though, would Larry believe that. Fear settled in the pit of her stomach. It was getting to the point that she no longer knew what it was like not to be afraid. She’d been trying so hard to hope and pretend that nothing was wrong. Then it wouldn’t be wrong. But she knew two terrible but true things. One, odds were her father hadn’t wandered away from the care center on his own accord last Tuesday. Two, Larry had wiped out her bank account on the same day. According to the bank president, her old boss, the withdrawal had happened online in a bank transfer. Already the account it had transferred to had been closed. Her old boss doubted it had been a data breach. It wasn’t phishing; it was outright fraud.
He hadn’t come out and said that her ex-husband had relieved her of the money, but she’d worked at the bank and knew had she been in his position, she’d be thinking it.