“Let’s get out of here. Where’s the new ride?” said Katie as she pushed the reality of her uncle’s fate from her mind.
“Your chariot awaits…”
“Really?” she said, walking with him to the farthest side of the building’s parking lot. “Couldn’t think of a better line?”
“I’m old-fashioned.”
“You know,” she said and stopped to look at him, “you are. That’s what I love about you.”
“You really love me?”
“Shut up, McGaven. Where’s the ride?” She smiled.
“It’s right there,” he said and pointed to a navy four-door sedan.
“It looks like our other car.”
“Not really, it’s foreign and it’s one of the most popular family cars in America.”
“Okay, give me the keys,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m driving us up to the university.”
“Why?”
“Do I have to answer that?” she said.
He sighed and gave her the keys.
Katie got behind the wheel and it felt like the downgraded version of her police sedan. It made her miss her Jeep.
* * *
Both Katie and McGaven rode in silence until they reached the university. Instead of going to the teaching area and labs, they were instructed to go to the administration building, where Dr. Harper kept an office that had more security and better parking.
“May I help you?” the woman at the main desk asked politely.
“We have an appointment with Dr. Harper.”
“Oh, she’s wonderful, and I believe she’s only been back a few days. You’re in luck.”
“Could you point us in the direction of her office?” asked McGaven.
“Of course. Take the elevator to the third floor, turn right and follow it to the end.”
“Thank you,” Katie said.
Katie was relieved when the elevator doors opened to a long narrow hallway on the third floor; the air inside had been stifling and smelled of musty carpet and stale food. They quickly approached the office and Katie took a deep breath before knocking, then tried the door handle when there was no answer from inside… “Dr. Harper?” she said, opening the door and walking in to the office. “Dr. Harper? It’s detectives Scott and McGaven.”
The office was large, a corner room that looked out over the campus and into a pretty wooded area. The furniture was modern and inviting, as was the artwork that hung alongside certificates of all of Dr. Harper’s accomplishments and a pin board with flyers for her upcoming speaking engagements.
“Nice office,” said McGaven.
“Yes, I like it too,” said a female voice behind them.
Katie turned to the impeccably dressed blonde woman. She was wearing a burgundy suit that fitted perfectly on her slim frame, and three-inch strappy shoes.
“Dr. Harper. I’m Detective Scott and this is Deputy McGaven.”
“Yes,” she said walking over to her desk and glancing down at a crowded appointment calendar. “You have half an hour. Will that suffice?”
“Yes, that should be fine,” said Katie.
“Please, have a seat,” she said as she took her place behind her desk. “What would you like to know about Cynthia Andrews? Such a terrible tragedy.”
“Dr. Harper, thank you for seeing us. We’ve been reinvestigating Ms. Andrews’ homicide as part of a new cold case department within the Pine Valley Police Department. You were her doctoral advisor?”
“Yes.”
“What do you remember about her?”
“Well,” she began, “she was bright, extremely driven, and passionate about her work. She was the type of student that any advisor would hope for.”
“Did you guide her on all her research?” Katie asked.
“I don’t recall all the research, but yes, generally I help students across all their subjects, refining their work to give them the best chance of earning their Ph.Ds.,” she said, looking from Katie to McGaven and back to Katie again. “She was writing about native California plants which have once been extinct, or thought to be extinct, and then have made a comeback. Her idea was that we could solve some of our environmental issues based on the return and resilience of plants, foliage, and even small wild animals. I don’t really expect you to completely understand.”
“Something like King’s Gold?” Katie watched the reaction from the woman, her eyes, hands, and demeanor.
“You’ve done your homework, Detective. I like that,” she said. “Yes, the King’s Gold was thought to be long extinct, but Cynthia said that she had seen it up in the mountains round here. I remember her telling me all about it—she was excited about documenting it.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” said McGaven. He seemed calm and collected once the doctor’s personality showed itself to be high-minded and bordering on narcissism.
“Well, you would be correct.”
“Why is that?” asked Katie.
“One native plant coming back from extinction will not save our planet,” Dr. Harper answered. “It’s much more complicated than that.”
“It is worthy of research and further investigation. Wouldn’t you think?”
“There is no proof of its return,” Harper said.
“But wasn’t that the point?” Katie pushed. “You could see why she was so excited about it. If one native plant has found its way back—more could follow. Couldn’t you, in the environmental biology field, use this information for future studies and research?”
Dr. Harper shifted in her chair and tapped her hot pink fingernails against her appointment book. “Am I being accused of something?”
“We’re simply trying to get to the truth. This is a homicide investigation and I don’t need to remind you how brutally she was attacked. By trying to uncover facts, we realize there might be some unpleasant things exposed, too.” Katie kept the doctor’s gaze. She wasn’t going to let the woman off the hook so easily with partial answers, she wanted the facts.
“I see,” she said and sighed. “During that time, I heard all kinds of theories that students were researching for their dissertations. It was my job to make sure they were on the right track and help them with their topics.” She leaned back in her chair, her elbows resting on the side arms. “Writing a dissertation to earn your Ph.D. can take years. Years, Detective. It’s an extremely important part of these students’ lives, and it is my job to guide them, help them, and be the best teacher I can so they can succeed.”
Katie changed tack to keep her on her toes. “Did you know of any of Ms. Andrews’ close friends, or boyfriends?”
“It’s been a while now. No, not that I recall.”
“What about Dr. Wills?” said McGaven.
“Oh yes, of course. I had forgotten they were friends.”
“Was there anything bothering Ms. Andrews at that time?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Did she ever confide in you about anything personal?”
She shook her head. “No, she was driven and her research was the only thing she talked about.”
Katie thought a moment how to word her next question. “The day she left to conduct her research, do you remember it?”
“Yes, she stopped by to see me before she left.”
“Was she supposed to go alone?”
“I think Dr. Wills, who was just Mr. Wills at the time, was supposed to go with her. I don’t know why he didn’t.”
“She mentioned that she had left a message for you before she left. Do you recall that?”
Dr. Harper paused. “No.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t remember that. Maybe she was going to leave me a message and didn’t? Or, it didn’t get to me. I’m sorry.”
Katie flipped her notebook shut. “Thank you, Dr. Harper. We appreciate your time. If you happen to remember anything pertaining to what we’ve discussed today, please call me.” She handed her a business card.
“Of course. I
really do hope that you find what you need to solve this homicide.”
Katie and McGaven left Dr. Harper’s office. They walked back to the new car before speaking to one another.
“What do you think?” asked McGaven.
“It’s like chasing our tail with her, but I don’t think she knows anything about the murder. She might be guilty of stealing her students’ ideas as her own, or something, but she’s not looking like our killer.”
“Okay.”
“At least that’s what it appears for now.”
“And?”
“And? I’m hungry.”
Thirty-Five
Tuesday 1530 hours
“Okay,” Katie began, “our suspects are few and weak, but we’re building a better picture of Cynthia’s life before she died.” She added to the board Robert Stanley Harding, age 57, and his wife, Carol Ann Harding, age 54, with a notation that they were her aunt and uncle, owners of Everything Outdoors.
McGaven studied the names and associations. “So you’re saying that Andrews’ aunt and uncle likely knew that she was going camping? Why would she tell them?”
“I studied the tent and the poles from the evidence box. They looked brand new. And where else would she go to buy a tent for her trip? Especially on a student budget.”
“I see where you’re going with this.”
“And the most unusual part…”
“I’m listening.”
“The lovely Denise called me about this bit of information.”
“I’m really listening,” he said.
“The license plate that was taken off the truck that ran me down…” she said, reading her notes. “XLG_344Y was registered to a Robert Stanley Harding.”
“Owner of Everything Outdoors and uncle of the victim. Wow. What the hell is going on with this case?”
“There are so many pieces to this puzzle,” she said, trying to see how everything she knew fitted together, and slumping into her chair as the last of her energy drained out of her.
“Everyone has said she was a loner and focused solely on her work and article writing.”
“Right, so who was around her on a daily basis? I’m just thinking that she went to classes several times a week.”
“We have her school schedule. So?”
“Can you get a list of students who were in her classes, including any labs?”
“Your uncle and Detective Teagen did a pretty extensive canvass of students at the time of the murder,” he said.
“I know. But, I want to see who attended the classes. We can then cross-reference any of the names on the statements if needed. They certainly didn’t talk to everyone.”
* * *
It was just before 5 p.m. when Katie pulled the car up opposite Everything Outdoors, where they had a prime view of the store’s front window and entrance.
McGaven unclipped his seatbelt to get out.
“Wait,” she said.
“For what?”
“I just want to watch for a bit. Do you have your stakeout kit?”
“It’s in the trunk.”
“What do you need?”
“Binoculars.”
“There are some in here,” he said and opened the glove box, where a small pair of binoculars rested inside.
“Let me see,” she said as McGaven handed them to her. Focusing the lenses, she studied the people inside the sporting goods store. There were three customers and a middle-aged man was behind the counter.
“Anything interesting?” asked McGaven.
“Not really. I think that’s the uncle behind the counter. The store is bigger than I thought.”
“I wonder how they compete with the big corporate guys?”
“I think they’ve had the store for quite some time and must have loyal customers.” Katie scanned from left to right; fishing poles, paddles, canoes, tents, shoes, tennis rackets, and a myriad of other supplies. “Looks pretty ordinary to me.”
As she spoke, a white pickup truck pulled up and parked two spots away from the front door.
Katie lowered the binoculars. The truck, which had various items in the back covered partly with a dark blue tarp, looked familiar. It took her a moment to realize where she had seen it before.
“Wait a minute. It can’t be.”
“What’s up?”
“That man who just entered the store.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s Paul Patton,” she said, amazed.
“The retired detective who originally investigated the Sam Stiles missing person’s case?”
“And he’s the one who crashed my uncle’s anniversary party.” Katie ran through several scenarios in her mind.
“What do you want to do?”
“Let’s sit tight. I want to see where else he goes.”
Thirty-Six
Tuesday 1630 hours
Katie and McGaven watched as retired Detective Patton moved around the store as if he had done it a million times before. A middle-aged woman appeared beside Cynthia’s uncle and then all three of them conversed, laughing and chatting like old friends.
“What do you think they are talking about?” asked McGaven, who was clearly intrigued by the situation.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to go in?”
“No, let’s sit tight. I’m more curious to see what Patton does than hear what he says.” Katie felt chills down her spine: Patton was connected to everything; to Cynthia, Stiles, and her uncle and Aunt Claire. She thought back to the scene at the anniversary dinner.
McGaven peered through the binoculars. “I think he’s buying some type of tarp and… it looks like a camping lamp and stove.”
“He’s going camping?”
“I think he’s picked up some of those freeze-dried meals… maybe ten or so.”
“Quite the shopper,” said Katie with sarcasm.
McGaven looked at Katie and said, “You know, it isn’t against the law to buy camping equipment—”
“Here they come,” she interrupted.
Katie and McGaven watched as Mr. Harding helped carry Patton’s things out to the truck and waved goodbye.
“Here we go,” Katie said and started the engine. “This is not the way to his house.”
“Interesting,” was all McGaven had to say.
Katie eased the car in behind Patton, careful to leave plenty of room to avoid being noticed. “Let’s think this through. He investigated the Stiles missing person’s case… he disrupts my uncle’s anniversary party … and now he shows up at the family business connected to our current homicide cold case… Something’s up,” she said, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
“You know it could be…”
“Nope. I’m not buying the whole coincidence thing.” They were heading for the freeway out of town.
“Katie,” McGaven began softly, “I know you’re working overtime on this case because… well because, you think it ties to your aunt’s case.”
“I’m focused on the here and now—that’s all.”
“But you’re running both cases through your head at the same time,” he said.
Katie didn’t say anything. She knew that he meant well, but he didn’t know everything: her uncle’s time was running out.
“Where’s he going?” he asked.
“Not sure, but he’s taking a left here,” she said.
They were now leaving the main part of the city and heading towards farmland areas. The daylight was almost completely gone and Katie switched her headlights on.
“What’s even out here?”
Katie knew immediately. “I can’t believe this! He’s going to turn onto Apricot Lane. Apricot Lane!” she said, barely able to contain her excitement.
“What?”
“See, he just turned,” she said and slowed her speed. She didn’t want Patton to get suspicious.
“How do you know?”
“This is where Kenneth Teagen lives. What do you think now?”
>
McGaven stayed quiet, taking it all in as Katie pulled to the side of the road near a grove of trees that slightly obstructed the view of his house.
“Why are you stopping?” he asked.
“I don’t want them to see me. You don’t know how much I want to search that house and property. I know this means something…” Katie pulled out the binoculars and watched Patton walk to the side door of Teagen’s house, and knock. Teagen appeared, moving fast and without his oxygen tank. “I can’t believe it.”
“What?”
Katie gave him the binoculars.
McGaven said, “That’s Teagen in the navy sweatshirt?”
“Yep. And he wasn’t moving like that when I visited him. I thought something was up, but he was pale and wheezing, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I’m so stupid. I knew I should have listened to my gut.”
“Like what? Two ex-cops who worked at the same department hanging out? Where’s the coup? There’s nothing suspicious about that. We don’t know what this means.”
“Yet. We don’t know what this means yet.”
Thirty-Seven
Tuesday 2115 hours
Katie sat in her backyard on her patio on a small padded outdoor couch, a blanket wrapped around her, trying to process her day. The weather had begun to turn colder and soon she would have to pull her outdoor furniture inside for winter. She didn’t bother to turn on the outside light, preferring the dark quiet solitude. The chilly air blew against her face and awoke her senses. She found that her mind was clearer out here. She could solve problems and come up with new ideas.
Cisco grumbled as he moved to make himself more comfortable snuggled up against her, hogging a portion of the blanket. His warm body was like an outdoor heater. He hadn’t wanted to leave her side recently—obviously sensing her heightened level of stress.
Katie saw her uncle’s bedroom light go out and it pained her to think about how hard it must be for him to sleep alone, knowing that Claire wasn’t ever coming back. Nothing that she and McGaven had uncovered was good enough. There were some interesting clues and strange correlations, but nothing substantial. How was she ever going to figure out who killed her aunt?
Flowers on Her Grave Page 21