While I was caught up in the backstory leading to Anthony’s newfound unemployment, my brother was focused on another wrinkle in the situation.
“Obviously, being fired at the holidays is awful, but for Anthony to just show up at the office party and cause a scene in front of everyone, is just unbelievable,” Joe said.
I nodded. “That’s why it’s called blind rage. When you’re that angry, you can’t think straight.”
“So much for holiday spirit,” Joe deadpanned.
“The problem was, Anthony had drunk a little too much before crashing the holiday party, if you know what I mean,” I said.
“It sure sounds like it.” My brother pulled out a pad of paper and started scribbling on it. “It looks like I’m going to be paying Anthony Rogers a visit.”
“Let’s hope he has calmed down.”
My brother turned his attention to another subject. “By the way, how did you know this stuff about the holiday party?”
“Daniel’s restaurant catered the event,” I replied.
“Sounds like your boyfriend got more than he bargained for,” Joe cracked.
I sighed. “More than you know.”
The look in my eyes troubled Joe.
My brother followed his hunch. “Did anything else out of the ordinary happen at this party?”
I reluctantly nodded. “The scene Anthony caused was just the tip of the iceberg.”
Concern was all over Joe’s face. “What else happened?”
“Tyler Wilkinson and Lisa Dalton blew up at each other,” I revealed.
“About what?” Joe asked.
“About the fact that Lisa was cheating on Tyler with Nick.”
Talk about a bombshell. I had almost fallen out of my chair when my boyfriend had shared that news with me earlier. The entire time I had known Nick, he had been careful not to mix business with pleasure. What a crazy time to have broken one of his own rules.
To complicate the matter, Lisa wasn’t just one of his employees. Nick had recently promoted her to art director. Imagine Tyler Wilkinson’s surprise when he found out his girlfriend was cheating on him with his boss. No wonder Tyler hadn’t minced words at the office party. He was still reeling from hearing the news.
That being said, for Tyler and Lisa to have fought in front of everyone at the party was surprising. Most couples tried to keep a lid on their animosity and put on a good face in public, no matter how angry they were behind closed doors. So when a couple was at each other’s throats in front of bystanders, it was a tell-tale sign that a relationship was on its last legs.
My brother scribbled Tyler and Lisa’s names down on his pad of paper. “There are two more potential suspects to pay visits to.”
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last bit of bad news I had to share with my brother. “I wish I could tell you that was all.”
“Uh-oh. What else have you got for me?” Joe asked.
“Nick and his younger brother, Gary, weren’t always on the best of terms, especially when Nick recently promoted Lisa to art director instead of his brother,” I said.
Gary Newton was a man who had a very high opinion of himself, although his skill level had a hard time matching his ego. I had always believed that the only reason Gary even had a job at the agency was because he happened to be the owner’s brother. Gary liked to believe he had landed the job on pure merit alone. Naturally, it was a huge blow to his ego to find out his brother had passed him up for a promotion. Gary had not taken the news well.
“Sibling rivalry. That’s always ripe territory for a motive,” Joe replied.
“I second that. It’s a good thing we’re not rivals, huh?” I said.
“Except when it comes to competitive turkey eating,” Joe cracked.
Thankfully, the days of my sibling rivalry with my brother were long over. Joe and I were on better terms than we had ever been before. That was just the way I wanted to keep it. At the same time, all bets were off when the Christmas turkey was served at the Hadley house. When turkey was in sight, the word “sharing” was no longer in our vocabularies. Our taste buds were very selfish like that. Even so, in the grand scheme of life, there were far worse things for Joe and me to argue about.
“So true,” I replied. “All told, a little competitive turkey eating is minor compared to what other siblings go through,” I said.
“Yeah. Just look at Nick and Gary Newton,” Joe replied. My brother reluctantly asked me one more question. “Is there anyone else you can think of who had a reason to want Nick dead?”
“Isn’t that enough?” I asked.
“That’s plenty, but I just want to make sure I haven’t overlooked anyone.”
I shook my head. “As far as I know, that’s all of them.”
Joe took a deep breath. “All right.”
My brother’s response was followed by a short pause that threatened to turn into an awkward silence if one of us didn’t speak up soon. This was usually the point in the conversation when he told me to stay out of his investigation. Whether he would do that this time remained to be seen. Given our argumentative history on this topic, I decided to let him make the first move.
Much to my delight, the generosity of the holiday spirit must have filled my brother’s heart at that moment, because his next response was the last one I ever expected.
“I know that you are still in shock over hearing about Nick’s murder, but if you’re not too emotionally distraught, I could use your help with this case.”
Joe’s offer came as a welcome relief. Part of it was because an argument hadn’t broken out. Also, because it was one of the rare times he had actually asked for my help with an investigation. With the other cases we had worked on together, I was usually the one who insisted on tagging along, much to his chagrin.
“Really? Are you sure you want my help?” I asked.
He nodded. “You know a lot more about Nick than I do. Not to mention his enemies. That knowledge could be invaluable in solving this case.”
“Right. Of course.”
“So, are you up to it?” Joe replied.
I had to think about my answer. While it was nice to be asked, I had to find a way to honestly assess if I could get into the right mental state that was required to solve a murder case. After all, I was still wrestling with the shock of the news that my friend had been murdered in the first place. Taking some time to grieve would be highly beneficial.
Unfortunately, by the time I was done mourning, the killer could be long gone. The first forty-eight hours after a murder had occurred gave investigators the best chance to solve the case. After that, leads often went cold, and killers sometimes got away without ever being caught. As it was, the murderer already had a head start on us.
I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if the guilty party got away. Ultimately, I had the rest of my life to mourn the loss of my friend, but I only had one chance to find the person who murdered him.
When I framed the situation that way, the answer became clear to me. I had to bring justice to Nick. Whatever it took, I needed to find his killer.
I turned to my brother with resolve all over my face. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Three
With four new suspects to consider, my brother was eager to start questioning them. While I respected Joe’s work ethic, he was moving too quickly for me. Before bolting off anywhere with him, I needed some information first. In his haste, Joe forgot that he had a significant head start on me.
I had just found out about Nick’s murder. Joe had been at the crime scene for hours before coming over to break the bad news to me. That left me with an information gap when it came to a number of different matters pertaining to this case. It was time for my brother to get me up to speed.
“Joe, put on the brakes for a second,” I said.
My brother grimaced. “What’s the matter? Are you reconsidering investigating this case?”
“No. It’s just that if I’m going to be of any help in c
atching this killer, I’m going to need to know how things went down,” I said.
“I already told you. The crime scene was consistent with a burglary gone wrong. But, given this new list of suspects you just gave me, perhaps it truly was a preplanned murder staged to look like a burglary.”
“No. What I meant was that I want to take a look at the crime scene.”
Joe winced. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Hearing about your friend’s death already has you distraught enough. Seeing where he was killed might send you into a tailspin.”
“It’s not like I want to see where Nick was murdered. It’s more that there are some details about the case that I just don’t know, and going to the scene might bring them into focus.”
“Hope, trust me, I’ve spent plenty of time at the scene of the crime. I can give you all the details you want.”
I took a deep breath. “All right. How was Nick killed?”
“He was stabbed in the back,” Joe revealed.
Ouch. What an awful way to go. The pain he must have felt was excruciating to think about. At the same time, I couldn’t help but linger on the significance that Nick had been stabbed in the back. Had the killer chosen that method because it was quick and easy, or because they felt like they had been metaphorically stabbed in the back themselves and were out to get a symbolic revenge?
“What was he stabbed with?” I asked.
“A bowie knife,” Joe replied.
That was an interesting choice. No wonder red flags hadn’t gone off in my brother’s head when he saw it. It wasn’t inconceivable for a burglar to carry around a bowie knife. If the murder weapon had been a common kitchen knife, that would have stood out. At the same time, bowie knives were so widely available that the killer could have easily bought one shortly before the murder. Or they could have already owned one.
That being said, I couldn’t help but wonder why the killer hadn’t used a gun to kill Nick. That would have been the more logical choice to make an effective killer. On the other hand, ballistics testing was getting more precise every day.
Perhaps the use of a knife as the murder weapon gave credence to my theory about symbolic revenge. Only time would tell.
In the meantime, I had more questions. “Was the forensics team able to pull any fingerprints from the murder weapon or the crime scene?”
My brother shook his head. “No. The killer must have wiped the knife clean or worn gloves.”
I groaned. “Of course.” I still held out hope for some good news. “Did your team find any useful evidence at the scene?”
Joe had more bad news for me. “Nope.”
“So really the only thing you have to work with are the suspects’ backstories?” I asked.
Joe nodded. “Why do you think I wanted your help on this case so much?”
I took a deep breath, gearing up for a long investigation. “All right. Let’s see what I can do.”
Chapter Four
As we drove across town to Anthony Rogers’s apartment, I couldn’t help but be struck by a sense of how surreal it was to be investigating a murder case during the holiday season. Downtown Hollywood, Florida, was all decked out with decorations. My hometown was in a highly festive mood. When it came to the majority of residents in town, their ignorance that a murder had just occurred really was bliss to them. They could carry on with their shopping and reveling without having their thoughts troubled by the news that a killer was on the loose.
I gazed at the white Christmas lights that were wrapped around each light pole on the main drag. In addition, all the storefronts had seasonal displays in the front windows. Festive music played over a loudspeaker. To top it all off, a twenty-foot-tall, densely decorated tree stood in the town square.
The street itself was buzzing with shoppers, all looking to grab the last few items to complete their Christmas gift list. It was a joyous scene. One that was full of merriment. It also provided a stark contrast to the circumstances my brother and I were faced with. That dichotomy was a jarring thing for me to try to reconcile.
I knew that lunacy didn’t take holiday vacations. If someone was angry enough to commit murder, the fact that Christmas was right around the corner wasn’t going to stop them from killing. In my head, that was quite clear. In my heart, a heinous act like this was infinitely harder to stomach given the season.
To keep my mood from souring to a dangerous low, I tried to distract myself. I had always been interested in seeing how differently people decorated for the holidays. Or didn’t decorate, in the case of Anthony Rogers.
As Joe pulled into Anthony’s driveway, there was no indication from looking at his rental townhome that it was even the holiday season. The two-story brick townhome had no decorations to speak of—not even a few strands of Christmas lights.
The lack of festive cheer was even more striking given that both his neighbor to the left and to the right had gone all-out. Not only were the units beside him strung up with lights, but they each had wreaths on their front doors. They also had decorated Christmas trees in their front windows.
Joe and I approached Anthony’s undecorated wooden front door and gave it a few knocks. Half a minute later, Anthony opened up. Anthony was a pear-shaped man in his late thirties with long tufts of black hair, wide-set blue eyes, and a full beard.
After Joe showed him his police badge, Anthony reluctantly let us in. At first, I thought he had been slow to comply because he didn’t want to answer our questions. When we entered his cluttered living room, I wondered if maybe he was just embarrassed about the disarray that his home was in.
The place was a mess. There was a beat-up thrift store couch up against the wall. In front of that was a wooden coffee table that was chipping apart. In addition, the tan-colored carpet on his floor looked like it hadn’t been vacuumed in years. Not everything was a complete décor disaster, however.
Despite the sad state of his furniture and carpet, Anthony had a new fifty-inch flat-screen television. That made it clear where what his priorities were. Oddly enough, despite the pristine new television in his living room, it was resting on a thrift store TV stand.
If his decorative choices didn’t give me enough of a pause, I couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of a Christmas tree anywhere in sight. It was clear that he lived alone. No woman would want to spend more than five minutes in this place without getting the urge to tidy up. Considering Anthony was living here by himself, I could see why he wouldn’t want to get a large tree, but to not have any tree at all was sad to me.
While my mind drifted off, my brother’s was as focused as could be.
“Mr. Rogers, we have to ask you some questions about Nick Newton,” Joe said.
“What about him?” Anthony asked.
“When was the last time you talked to him?” Joe replied.
Anthony tensed up.
“What’s the matter?” Joe wondered.
Anthony untied his tongue and answered my brother’s question. “When he fired me.”
I had wondered if Anthony would be willing to admit that he had been pink-slipped. That wasn’t the kind of detail that suspects tended to freely tell investigators like us. Refreshingly, he had volunteered the information. That was much easier than my brother and I having to pry it out of him. At the same time, even though Anthony had come clean about being canned from his job, he had not been so honest when it came to another matter.
My brother pressed him further. “Are you sure that’s the last time you saw Nick?”
That was a trick question, mostly because both my brother and I already knew the answer to it. We just wanted to see if Anthony would tell us the truth.
“Yes. That’s the last time,” Anthony said.
We had given him two chances to reply truthfully. He had refused to do so either time. It was time to call him out.
“Why are you lying to us?” I asked.
A look of puzzlement came over Anthony’s face. “What are you talking about?”
<
br /> “We know that you went to the ad agency’s holiday party last night and blew up at Nick,” I said.
Anthony hemmed and hawed, then finally copped to it. “All right. Yes. I went to the party.”
Joe scratched his chin. “That’s very interesting.”
“Not quite as interesting as why you felt the need to lie to us in the first place,” I said. “Why did you lie to us exactly?”
Anthony became increasingly uncomfortable. His mouth opened, but no words came out. The silence lingered until I finally spoke up.
“Is it because you were worried that your answer would make you look guilty?” I asked.
Anthony shrugged. “Guilty of what?”
“Murder,” I said.
The look of bafflement returned to Anthony’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“Nick was murdered shortly after the office party ended,” I said.
Anthony’s eyes widened. His voice cracked as he replied, “Wait a minute. I didn’t know Nick was murdered.”
Joe stared him down. “Really?”
“I’m serious. I didn’t know he had been killed,” Anthony replied.
“Mr. Rogers, you already lied to us once. Why should we believe you now?” Joe asked.
“Because I’m telling you the truth.”
“I’m not sure that I believe it.”
Anthony kept trying to convince my brother. “But I’m telling you—”
Joe cut him off. “I don’t care what you’re telling me. I just care about the truth, and I’m not stopping until I get it.”
“What do you want from me?” Anthony asked.
“It’s simple. I need to know the answer to one question. Where were you between eleven and midnight?” Joe replied.
“I was here,” Anthony said.
Joe followed up. “Alone?”
Anthony squinted. “Why does that matter?”
Joe narrowed his eyes. “Just answer the question.”
“Yes, alone. What does that have to do with anything?” Anthony asked.
Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set Page 72