Shades of Deception

by Charlie Hudson

  Les waited until they were in the car again. “Where are you putting your money?”

  Bev grimaced. “For their sake, let’s track down this Tommy today if we can. If he kept a key and he was like family, as Rachel and Herb claimed, they probably didn’t think to change the alarm code.”

  “Yeah, I can buy that. So in all likelihood, they have a friend they trusted betray them or it’s one of their real family. That’s going to be tough to handle either way.”

  “No shit,” Bev said. The surge of sympathy she felt mingled with outrage. She wasn’t going to pretend she knew details of the Mecklenberg family, but she thought they were decent people who seemed to be bracing for an emotional shock.

  The store was empty when they arrived, Dov looking up from a display of notebook-size computers when a soft chime signaled their entrance. “Bev, it’s been a couple of years, hasn’t it? And you would be Detective Martin?” Taller than his father by at least two inches, Dov had a square jaw and the facial resemblance was in his heavy dark eyebrows and deep brown eyes. His build was more athletic — basketball in high school — and he obviously did something to keep his weight under control. There was no budding paunch under his navy blue polo. His hand was firm with no calluses, nails clipped short. “Kevin was the officer on the scene and took the report. I don’t suppose you have any news yet?”

  Bev glanced around. The rectangular room was neatly arranged, the flat screen televisions mounted to the left wall with shelves of accessories below them. Glass display cases and racks were to the right, a customer service counter close to the front door and a second one was in the rear of the store. The right-hand side of the back wall held pegs with packaged batteries and other small items. A door behind the back counter with an “Employees Only” sign affixed was closed.

  “We have a few follow-up questions, if you don’t mind. Is Marlon here?”

  She didn’t miss the faint way his lips compressed before he answered. “No, he won’t be back until around five. I sent Justin on an errand and he should be in shortly. What can I tell you that wasn’t in the report?”

  Les took the lead. “How many employees do you currently have and how many have keys?”

  Dov swept his hand around the area. “We’ve always stayed lean. Justin replaced Tommy several months ago and we have two part time employees who come in for peak season and special sales. Justin has a key and the security code.”

  “Speaking of Tommy,” Bev interjected smoothly. “He’d been with you a long time, hadn’t he?”

  She was watching his eyes and listening for a shift in his voice. If he was lying about why Tommy left, he was masking it well. There was no emotion as his parents had displayed. “You can’t expect to keep someone in a business with no realistic path to move up. It’s a family store and our expansion plan is pretty modest. He was never going to be able to be more than an employee, albeit a valued one here. He was offered a manager’s opportunity at a major store in Key West and, quite frankly, I encouraged him to take it. Did he return his key? Yes. Did we change the code? No. Could he have made a copy of the key? I suppose so. Could he have been involved? I can’t see that as a possibility.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind, let us have his contact info,” Les said without inflection. “He may have information that doesn’t seem important to you and could be.”

  Justin’s appearance delayed Dov’s response. In his early twenties, he would appeal to the younger customers, complete with tattoos running up both arms, an earring, and curly light brown hair pulled into a short ponytail. A slender build and black-framed glasses didn’t necessarily mean he was a geek, although Bev was willing to bet he was a gamer. She’d noticed, what to her, seemed to be a sizeable array on display and almost the entire stock of the newest games had been on the stolen items list.

  “Since it seems to be kind of quiet at the moment, how about you and I go to the office,” Bev suggested, “and Detective Martin can interview Justin.”

  “Cool, man,” he said cheerfully, then flashed a sheepish looked at Dov. “I don’t mean about the robbery. That sucks.”

  Dov shrugged and inclined his head toward the back. “It’s okay. Show Detective Martin whatever he needs to see.”

  The office was actually large enough for an extra chair to fit comfortably next to each gray metal desk. Both were against the back wall so the occupant was facing the door. A metal filing cabinet was pushed to the corner of the left-hand wall and a credenza next to it held a printer and round containers of pens and office items.

  Dov dropped into the black leather chair behind his desk and reached for the business card holder. “We’ve been looking at the marine supply store in Pink Flamingo — they’re scheduled to relocate in a couple of months and business is up enough to seriously consider the move. That will allow us to expand into a few more lines we’d like to carry. Do you know in all our years, this is only the second robbery we’ve had? The first was when I was about twelve — a string of stores got hit and I’m pretty sure your father was on the case.”

  “He’ll no doubt remember it,” Bev said and took the card he passed her. “What are your thoughts on this?” She looked directly into his eyes, hoping the privacy between them would work to her advantage.

  He hesitated too long.

  Bev pitched her voice a little lower, trying to draw him out. “Marlon always closes? Has the store been unsecure before? I don’t think it will take us long to get to the bottom of this and it will go a lot faster if you know something.”

  He looked away briefly, his jaw tightening noticeably this time. Anger settled over his face when he reengaged. “The point about the keypad was exaggerated. Yeah, you have to press firmly, but there’s nothing to it. The same with the lock. It sticks a little and you have to turn it fully to engage it. Week before last the alarm hadn’t been set and the door wasn’t locked when I came to open.”

  “What did Marlon have to say?”

  “His usual — it wasn’t a big deal and we needed to change out the lock. He took that no more seriously than he does most things.”

  “The stolen items? Are they big movers for you?”

  “Absolutely. We’d only received the shipment a few days ago.”

  Bev had perfected taking abbreviated notes without breaking eye contact. “About shipments. Are you on the morning or afternoon delivery schedule?”

  “Mid-afternoon most days. Marlon usually handles them and the inventory. It’s about the only paperwork he bothers with. The rest of it bores him and God forbid we should impose on his party time.” Dov must have heard the edge to his voice. “Look, Bev…”

  She laid her pen down. “Any trouble you want to talk about?”

  He caught himself, lifted both hands and dropped them silently to the desk. “What brothers don’t argue occasionally? Marlon has always known we’d be taking over the store. I majored in business and he went with PR and marketing. Thinking up promotional campaigns — half of which we can’t afford — gets to show how clever he is. The actual work of running an independent business in this day of everything being cheaper on line or at the big stores, staying competitive, trying to keep up with everything — that’s not a hell of a lot of fun.”

  Bev didn’t want to press the point about the inventory discrepancies. If Dov knew, he was deliberately withholding the information. “Yeah, I can see that. You said Marlon would be back around five. Have him give us a call and maybe we can knock this out today.”

  They both heard footsteps and Les poked his head through the door. “I’ve got what I need.”

  Dov stood when Bev did. “I can’t guarantee when Marlon will show up. I’ll text him to come to the station instead of here, if you’ll be in.”

  “Sure, one of us should be,” she said and slipped her notebook into her purse. “Call if you think of anything else in the meantime.”

  “Just
in is a pretty observant kid,” Les said as they drove away. “He closes up when Marlon isn’t available and said there’s been tension between the brothers since right after he was hired. Dov is the serious one, but okay to work for. When it’s only Marlon in the store, they joke around more and he takes a lot of digs at Dov. They tend to not be in the store at the same time. Not quite two weeks ago, they were in the office with the door closed and he heard raised voices. Couldn’t make out what was said, but Marlon looked pissed when he left and Dov was definitely not happy. He figures they’ll have it out one day.”

  “Any chance the argument was about shorting the inventory?”

  Les turned into the parking lot. “Maybe, it’s obvious there are running disagreements. Detecting isn’t all that difficult if you look at the facts objectively,” he said. “How do you want to play this?”

  “I’ll call Tommy and see if he’ll talk to us. We ought to check that as a just-in-case and he might have more useful info. We’ll see if Marlon contacts us. If not, we can get him tomorrow.”

  Bev keyed in Tommy’s number and she felt another surge of sympathy with what he told her. Les sat in the car with her, eyes raised as he listened.

  Bev unsnapped her seat belt. “His words were in essence, ‘Ah shit, I was afraid something like this might happen.’ I wasn’t expecting him to be so direct. In fact, he’s on the road headed this way and will be here in about forty-five minutes.”

  “Want to take bets on what he’ll tell us?”

  Bev shot him a grin. “Not today.” Her phone rang as they passed into the office and Les immediately went to the old, yet still functional refrigerator. She nodded to the Diet Coke he extracted along with the Sprite he preferred.

  “That was Dov. Said Marlon was planning to stay overnight in Fort Lauderdale. He’ll be in noonish tomorrow unless we want him earlier.”

  “There are two airports at his disposal,” Les said mildly. “Think he’s got it figured out and will skip?”

  Bev popped the top of the can and thought about Herb and Rachel. “Possibly. If he thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, he won’t. He’ll brazen it out.”

  “Makes sense. I doubt he’ll be hard to track if we need to.”

  Bev telephoned her mother, adjusted the time for seven-thirty without too much protest, and left another voice mail for Kyle. If Tommy gave them the kind of information she was now expecting, they would need to brief Chief Taylor. He and Herb were not close, but they were friends and it was a small town. Situations like this couldn’t stay quiet for long. She didn’t want to be rushed getting to her parents and she might as well have the facts in case her mother peppered her with questions and a distorted version of whatever she had heard. Her mother knew better than to ask pointed questions and it would be interesting to know if discord between the brothers was in fact known in the beauty parlor circle.

  Day shift had swapped to the smaller evening crew and it was quiet when Bev explained what had happened to the Chief. She’d told Les to go on to his youngest grandson’s T-Ball game. “Tommy was torn between being pissed and feeling a little guilty. Said on the surface Dove and Marlon kept up appearances, especially around Herb and Rachel, but it wasn’t a good mix. Marlon had all sorts of ideas — mostly not practical for this market and doesn’t have Dov’s work ethic. Got into coke maybe a year back — hard partying — no one in the family wants to see it. Whatever had been good between them growing up either wasn’t there or was stretched really thin. Tommy started looking for another job because he assumed it would eventually blow up and he didn’t want to watch it happen. His speculation is Marlon arranged for the robbery whether for spite, needing extra money for coke, or just because he wanted to see if he could get away with it.”

  Chief Taylor grunted and ran a thick hand over the top of his head. “Shit, I’ve known those boys all their lives just like I have with you. I smoked cigars Herb gave out when they were both born. Hard not to think of them as still kids. I mean, Jesus, where did Marlon get off-track? Tommy say anything about the inventory business?”

  Bev shook her head. “I don’t think that started until after he left. It would be difficult enough to get something past Dov and Tommy knew the store almost as well.”

  “The argument the new guy told Les about? Easy to see Dov catches the discrepancies and confronts Marlon. Then what? Marlon comes up with some kind of excuse, maybe makes good the money, and he sets this up instead. Payback? Desperation? Just being fucking stupid?”

  “Any or all of the above,” Bev said. “He’s doing coke, he’s already mixed up with people he shouldn’t be. Arranging for a robbery isn’t complicated. We talk with Marlon tomorrow and I don’t think he’ll hold out long.”

  “Unless he hops a plane tonight.”

  “That might not be the worst solution,” Bev said philosophically. “We’ve checked north and south — no unusual rash of robberies to wrap this one into. Word is out and Kevin is sure we’ll get information within the next day or two about the thief. I would like to know who Marlon is buying coke from if that part is true, but it’s probably someone pretty low-key. If our buddies in the alphabet soup that handles drugs are operating in their normal way, they might have Marlon’s supplier in their sights and are deliberately waiting to catch a bigger fish.”

  Chief Taylor nodded once. “Can’t argue that point. It’s a sad goddamn state of affairs and we’ll see if Marlon shows. Whether he caves or clams up, let me be the one who breaks the news to Herb and Rachel.”

  Bev sure as hell wasn’t turning down the offer. “Be glad to,” she managed and stood when he flapped his hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  She drove home, wanting to get into the right frame of mind. A family dinner, casual and relaxed, something they did at least once a month. How often had the Mecklenbergs gathered together in a similar way oblivious of what was simmering beneath the surface? The life they’d built — hard work, what was supposed to be a happy family, a successful business to pass to a second generation — was fracturing around them. The final pieces would break loose within another day or two. The sad fact was like the abuse case she’d been involved with earlier, the love and protection you were supposed to have in families was far from it too many times. Perhaps even sadder was it had been true for eons, if you used the Bible as a measure with Cain murdering his brother Able and Jacob cheating his brother Esau out of his rightful inheritance. Bev grimaced at the analogy. No doubt Herb and Rachel were more familiar with those passages than she was.

  The next week passed with minor ripples. Marlon Mecklenberg’s arrival at the station had been in the company of a lawyer who quickly pointed out the circumstantial nature of their accusations. He would have been correct had the thief not been arrested with some of the goods still in his possession. His willingness to make a deal began give-and-take rounds of discussions among prosecutors and defense attorneys. Bev didn’t intend to engage more than the minimum required of her and she hoped the family could recover from the emotional damage inflicted. On the other hand, Bev had seen other families cope with the tragedy of brutal violence and come out with apparent healing.

  Unlike major cities where detectives rarely had a day without something heart wrenching to investigate, she didn’t mind a period of calm with a situation like the Mecklenbergs as their most serious case. She was reading through an article in Forensic Examiner when Les hurried into the office, his face cautious. “We’ve got a body. Young woman. Beau is on the scene with the EMTs.”

  Bev was on her feet, pulling her purse from the desk drawer. “What’s the story?”

  “Not sure, no immediate sign of foul play. Lady who called it in is a neighbor.”

  The house was halfway down a short street, no onlookers being held back. The only civilian cars in sight were a silver Accord two houses to the left and the red Jeep Wrangler at the addres
s they were given. Neither vehicle was new. It was another rather cookie-cutter neighborhood; most of the houses well-maintained, a mix with carports, all with hurricane fencing around small yards. The coral colored paint on the stucco seemed fresh, although if the house to the right was scheduled to be repainted, they might want to pick a color different from the current lime green.

  The lights were off the EMT vehicle and Boone Reynolds was talking on his phone, his hat pushed to the back of his head. He pointed them to the house and didn’t interrupt his call. That meant rigor mortis had probably already set in. Maria Castillo was the uniform in the patrol car. She was on the radio and they heard Beau’s voice through the screen door. He’d left the glass-paneled wooden front door open. He stepped forward and motioned to his right and simultaneously tilted his head left. “Mrs. Dupont phoned it in. She’s a neighbor and friend. The deceased’s name is Deena Pierce. Twenty-three.”

  “Give us a couple of minutes,” Bev said, glancing to the older woman sitting on the edge of a sofa, her head turned away. Not surprisingly, considering the size of the house, there was a dining nook to the left of the rectangular room instead of a separate dining room. A short peninsula separated the nook from the galley kitchen not intended to accommodate more than one cook at a time. Furnishings were higher end though, with the five-piece teak dining set and corner cabinet made of teak.

  The body was slumped partially across the table, left arm extended. The chair was shoved partially back, her right arm hanging down. Jesus, she looked about nineteen. At least her eyes were closed and had her skin not had an odd bluish tinge, it would have been natural to shake her shoulder to try to awaken her. The tipped over margarita glass and a drying lime wedge an inch away weren’t as telling as was the empty shot glass on its side resting against a small wooden bowl with a handful of peanuts in it. A cell phone was at her sandaled feet, lavender polish on her toenails. The shade matched a color in her floral tank top, her shorts in purple, an outfit meant to be comfortable and display her petite, trim, tanned body.