To the Last Drop

by Sandra Balzo

  The call ended just as Eric turned the Escape into the complex. I directed him to bypass the courthouse parking and circle counter-clockwise to the lot serving both the sheriff’s department and the jail.

  ‘What did Bernie say?’ I asked as Eric pulled my little SUV into a spot.

  ‘He was very kind and offered to get hold of one of his partners for me. A criminal defense attorney, like you said. He—’ Lynne’s voice broke as she handed me back my cell. ‘He’ll have her call.’

  I held up the phone. ‘On this line?’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Lynne said. ‘I didn’t think to give him my number.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ I said, returning the cell to her. ‘You can keep it for now.’

  Lynne took it and sat staring past me out the front windshield toward the lighted façade of the building. Eight-inch-high letters spelled out Brookfield County Sheriff’s Department across the top of the entrance. ‘How in the world did we get here?’

  I knew she wasn’t talking navigation and couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. New to town and alone … but she wasn’t really, was she? Lynne had family right here in Brookhills. ‘Shouldn’t you call Mary? In fact, she might have some ideas on a lawyer before you decide who to hire.’

  She shook her head. ‘I think I’ll stick with your friend’s recommendation. He sounded like a good guy.’

  Bernie was not only a good guy but a great guy, yet I couldn’t help but want to unload at least some of the responsibility on Lynne’s sister. Family is family. And mere acquaintances were … well, us. Despite appearances to the contrary over the last twenty-four hours.

  I climbed out of the car and swung open the back door for Lynne to get out. ‘I’ll take you in and then see what I can find out from Pavlik.’

  She just nodded.

  ‘Will you stay with Mrs Swope?’ I asked Eric as he joined us on the sidewalk.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, handing me back my car keys. ‘You’ll probably get more out of Pavlik if I’m not there.’

  I didn’t raise a dumb kid.

  Leaving Lynne and Eric on vinyl-cushioned chairs to wait for the detectives, I crossed to a counter on the other side of the lobby. For the second time that day I signed in with the deputy, waited for clearance and a visitor’s badge and took the elevator to the third floor.

  Given the hour, nobody was at the desk in the outer office, so I went through and knocked on the frame of Pavlik’s open door. ‘It’s me, the one you don’t want to talk to.’

  ‘I told them to let you up, didn’t I?’ The sheriff, his shirtsleeves rolled up on forearms tanned in the Florida sun, leaned back in his chair. ‘And I don’t mind talking to you. I just don’t want to be interrogated by you.’

  ‘I promise not to,’ I said, sitting where I had that afternoon. ‘Or to try not to.’

  ‘And I appreciate the attempt at honesty.’ He shifted in the chair, flexing his shoulders forward and back like he’d been sitting too long in one position. ‘But I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. There’s nothing I can tell you.’

  ‘No worries.’ I set my purse down next to me. ‘I drove Lynne so I have to be here anyway.’

  ‘I thought you barely knew the Swopes. Why so solicitous?’

  Good question. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure. Lynne just showed up at my house and ended up staying for dinner.’ I didn’t mention the reason for the visit, figuring that was for Lynne to tell. ‘We were just finishing up when Eric came home saying Ginny had been arrested—’

  ‘She was asked to come in and answer a few questions.’

  ‘I know. I’m just repeating what Eric said at the time. But why question Ginny, of all people? What could she know?’

  If William Swope had been murdered there were certainly better suspects than his stepdaughter. Lynne, Clay Tartare, Rita Pahlke, Ted. Heck, even Bethany Wheeler, assuming she’d managed to fake her own death.

  OK, that might be pushing it. But it had been a long day with many twists and turns. And theories. So very many theories.

  ‘Taylor and Hallonquist just want to ask Virginia about a discrepancy in her story.’

  I frowned. ‘Story? She and Eric just got into town last night and saw Lynne and William at Uncommon Grounds. End of story.’

  ‘And the girl never went to Thorsen Dental?’

  ‘Not last night.’ I stopped. ‘Are you implying she did?’

  ‘I’m not implying anything.’ Pavlik pulled a manila file folder toward him and flicked it open. ‘Crime scene found her fingerprints.’

  I knew the sheriff well enough to realize he didn’t offer information without intending to get some in return.

  Unfortunately, all I could do was wrinkle my nose. ‘So? She was probably there on another visit home. Or over the summer. Besides, there must be tons of fingerprints.’

  ‘There were, of course,’ Pavlik said, settling back in his chair again. But not with pepperoni grease on them.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Ginny had gone to her cousin’s house for pizza, she’d said. Like Eric and me, apparently they favored pepperoni.

  ‘But Ginny said she didn’t go to her father’s office,’ I said again to the sheriff. ‘How can her prints be there?’

  ‘You’d have to ask her.’ He didn’t take his nose out of the file on his desk. ‘And if she answers, let us know.’

  I noticed the name on folder wasn’t Ginny’s. Was I being dismissed? ‘You said Ginny lawyered up?’

  That earned a glance from Pavlik, presumably for the TV police jargon. ‘Virginia asked for an attorney, yes.’

  ‘She’s smart enough to do that but dumb enough to kill her father and leave prints?’

  Pavlik shrugged. ‘She’s young. Kids make mistakes.’

  I was thinking. ‘So Ginny’s greasy prints were in William’s office?’ When Pavlik didn’t confirm or deny, I plunged on. ‘I assume your people dusted the oxygen tank?’

  ‘The oxygen tank?’ The parrot routine was a favorite of Pavlik’s.

  ‘The green tank on the ground next to William’s body. I’m thinking it was used to break the window.’ Or William’s head. ‘What did they find on that? Blood evidence? Prints?’

  Pavlik shook his head. ‘Nothing we wouldn’t expect to.’

  There was a non-answer for you.

  Pavlik pushed the file jacket away and stood up. ‘You really don’t expect me to lay out what else – if anything – we might have on the girl, do you?’

  ‘I don’t expect it but I kind of hoped.’ I snagged my purse and stood, too. A change of subject seemed in order. ‘Baby Mia’s baptism is tomorrow, followed by luncheon served in Christ Christian’s basement, probably much to the horror of the Slatterys. Want to come watch?’

  ‘Sounds like fun but I have to work.’ He came around the desk and gave me a light kiss on the lips.

  ‘Liar,’ I said, staring up into his blue eyes. ‘You just don’t want to be trapped in a church with me, a crying baby, my ex-husband, his hoity-toity in-laws and assorted gelatin molds.’

  ‘You got that right.’

  Eric was still where I’d left him, though Lynne’s seat was empty. ‘I assume the lawyer showed up?’

  ‘Uh huh.’ My son dug my phone out of his jeans pocket and handed it to me. ‘Mrs Swope said to say thank you but that we don’t have to wait for her.’

  ‘How’s she going to get home?’ I asked. ‘Or they, I should say.’ No need to assume that Ginny would be detained.

  ‘Taxicab, she said. Do we have taxicabs in Brookhills?’

  ‘Not so you’d notice. And certainly not like an urban area where you can flag one down this late.’ I took the seat next to him. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah, but it was kind of surreal at Ginny’s house. The police taking her away and all, you know?’

  I knew. I gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘The good news is that she has a lawyer now. Who knows, she could be out any—’

  The door next to the main desk opened and Ginny emerged. Look
ing neither left nor right, the girl charged right through the lobby and out the revolving door.

  Eric jumped up. ‘I’m going after her.’

  I nodded and turned to greet the two women trailing behind her.

  Lynne smiled, but there was no disguising that she’d been crying. ‘Oh, Maggy – thank you. But I told Eric you didn’t need to wait.’

  ‘We were happy to stay.’ I turned to the fiftyish blonde with her. ‘I’m Maggy Thorsen.’

  ‘Kay Spinelli. I would have driven Mrs Swope and Ginny home but I’m sure they’re happy to have a friend here.’ She handed Lynne a card. ‘Take another of these and, remember, you need to have Ginny back here at three tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘So what’s going on?’ I asked Lynne as Spinelli left us.

  ‘No charges, thank God. But they want to see Ginny again tomorrow, after the medical examiner gets …’ Lynne’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, ‘… done. Did the sheriff tell you anything?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ I wasn’t sure if Lynne meant about Ginny or about the divorce papers, a subject I intended to let Lynne broach with the detectives.

  Truth was the sheriff had not only been noticeably weary but markedly closed mouth, telling me little I didn’t already know except that Ginny’s pepperoni fingerprints had been found in Thorsen Dental.

  ‘The detectives think Ginny lied about being in William’s office,’ Lynne said, waving for me to go through the revolving door ahead of her.

  She didn’t say why they thought that, and I wasn’t about to tell her about the greasy prints if she didn’t already know.

  Outside, Eric was walking back toward us from the parking lot. ‘Ginny’s waiting by the Escape,’ he said as Lynne joined us. ‘She says she doesn’t want to talk.’ My son looked miserable.

  ‘That’s understandable,’ I said. ‘She’s had a very tough day.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t get why they’re harassing her. Ginny took me straight home from Uncommon Grounds and then went to the Callahans. I can swear we didn’t stop at Dad’s office, if it would help.’

  Problem was my house was west of Uncommon Grounds and the Callahan home and Thorsen Dental east. If Ginny had gone to the office, she most likely would have dropped Eric off first and then done so on the way to her cousin’s house.

  I didn’t think it best to point that out right now. ‘I’m sure Ginny told the investigators that.’

  ‘But that’s just it,’ Lynne said. ‘As Eric says, Ginny isn’t speaking – not even to defend herself to the detectives.’

  ‘Lawyered up,’ Eric said, proving the TV-loving apple didn’t fall far from the tree. ‘Smart.’

  ‘That’s what I thought, too, at first,’ Lynne said, accompanying me down the sidewalk toward the parking lot, ‘but Ginny won’t even talk to our lawyer.’

  That didn’t seem so smart. ‘What about to you, Lynne? Did you have a chance to talk to Ginny alone?’

  ‘For a couple of minutes, but she wouldn’t tell me anything either.’ She stumbled stepping off the curb.

  I put a hand out to steady her. ‘Probably worried somebody was listening.’

  ‘So what?’ Lynne scraped the back of her hand across her eyes and then held it there against the glare of the parking lot lights. Ginny’s lone figure stood next to the Escape. Lynne lowered her voice. ‘What is she so afraid they’ll hear?’

  It was a good question. Approaching the vehicle, I pushed the fob twice to unlock all the doors. ‘I’m taking you to Mary’s.’

  As I swung open the passenger door for Lynne, her daughter finally spoke: ‘No.’ She got in the back seat.

  ‘Ginny’s right,’ Lynne said, climbing in herself. ‘The last thing she needs right now is to be grilled by my sister.’

  ‘What have you told Mary so far?’

  ‘Only that William apparently committed suicide.’

  I closed the passenger door and circled to the driver’s side, waiting for Eric to get into the back seat next to Ginny.

  Instead he took the keys from my hand.

  Taking the hint, I slid in next to Ginny. She didn’t look at me.

  Her mother was still talking. ‘This morning, Mary kept insisting she come, but I told her she’d help me more by going to work.’

  I leaned forward. ‘I’m getting the impression you and Mary aren’t very close.’

  Lynne glanced sideways at my face between the seats. She seemed surprised to see me there. ‘It’s been a little strained at times, I admit. We’re just so different.’

  That might be true, but weren’t siblings supposed to help each other in troubled times?

  But then this was coming from the woman who hadn’t seen her own brother for two decades. And then he had died.

  Ding, ding, ding sounded as Eric turned the key. ‘Seat belt, Mom?’

  ‘Sorry.’ I sat back and strapped myself in, but continued the conversation with Lynne. ‘You and Mary seemed fine at the book club.’

  Lynne’s shoulders lifted and then fell. ‘Oh, we don’t argue. We just don’t like each other much.’

  Presumably their father pronouncing Mary ‘the smart one’ hadn’t done much for the sibling dynamics. ‘You truly would prefer Eric drop you off at home?’ Then I remembered. ‘Oh, we can’t drop you off anywhere. Your car is at our house.’

  ‘Mrs Swope and Ginny should just stay with us tonight.’ Eric piped up from behind the wheel. ‘My room has a king-size bed, if they don’t mind sharing, and I’ll sleep on the couch.’

  I restrained a groan. I’d been trying very hard not to assume more responsibility for the Swope family and their problems.

  ‘Oh, we couldn’t do that,’ Lynne said. ‘And we certainly wouldn’t be good company.’

  I wasn’t thinking about them as company. More like … baggage to be stowed.

  ‘Oh my God, Mom,’ the teenage volcano next to me exploded. ‘It’s been a long day. Can we please just crash at Eric’s for the night and stop talking?’

  ‘Well, I am exhausted,’ Lynne admitted as Eric turned the Escape toward home. Though I’m not sure either of us will be able to sleep.’

  ‘Ginny can use my iPad,’ Eric offered.

  I tapped Lynne on the shoulder. ‘Xanax?’

  EIGHTEEN

  The door to Eric’s room was still closed when I passed by the next morning. A snarled blanket and pillow on the couch marked where he’d spent the night and I found Eric, sheepdog by his side and mug of freshly brewed coffee in his hand, in the kitchen.

  ‘Bless you for making coffee.’ I opened the dishwasher to retrieve my favorite mug and saw dirty dishes among the clean. ‘I completely forgot about Sarah. She must have stuck our dishes from last night in here not realizing it had been run.’

  I claimed my clean mug from the top rack anyway and noticed another with brown stains next to it. ‘At least she had coffee.’

  ‘There was half a carafe left on the burner.’

  ‘She did turn it off, right?’

  Eric grinned. ‘Yeah, though it smelled kind of burned. I scrubbed out the pot.’

  I was gratified on two counts. My son knew his way around a coffeemaker as well as he did a wine bottle and my partner had drunk half a pot of coffee and then stayed around long enough for the rest of the pot to turn acrid before she turned off the burner and drove home.

  Setting the mug on the counter, I filled it from the fresh pot Eric had brewed. ‘I didn’t think to ask you last night, but was Dad expecting you to sleep at his place?’

  ‘I texted him that you needed me.’

  I was touched. ‘How’d you sleep?’

  ‘The couch wasn’t bad but I’m not used to falling asleep without watching a movie or something on my iPad.’

  ‘It was good of you to offer it to Ginny.’ I added a touch of cream to my coffee from the carton on the counter. ‘Did you find a book or something to read?’

  ‘Nah, I watched Jurassic Park again on that.’ He gestured to the phone
on the table.

  I resisted telling him he’d hurt his eyes staring at the tiny screen. Let’s face it: if half my own mother’s warnings had come true I’d be walking around with a finger stuck up my nose and Frank as seeing-eye dog.

  ‘I kept thinking about Ginny,’ Eric continued. ‘Having to go back and all.’

  ‘Me, too.’ I brought my coffee to the table and sat across from him.

  ‘It’s not like she can tell them anything. At least, I don’t think she can.’

  So Eric had doubts about our new friends, too? ‘How’s Ginny been handling the death of her father?’

  ‘Stepfather,’ Eric corrected.

  ‘That’s right – I’d forgotten. Did they get on OK?’

  ‘I guess so.’ He slid the chair back and crossed to the coffeemaker. ‘You know she got herself kicked out of Quorum, right?’ He held up the pot. ‘Refill?’

  I glanced down at my two-thirds-full cup. ‘Sure.’

  As Eric topped me off, I said, ‘Mrs Swope did tell me about Ginny’s grades. Are you saying she was failing on purpose?’

  Eric thought about that as he replaced the pot and returned to the table. ‘She said she hated Quorum. That everybody was stuck up.’

  It wasn’t a direct answer to my question, but then Eric hadn’t known Ginny all that much longer than I’d known Lynne. ‘Did she tell her folks that?’

  ‘She said her father didn’t care if she was miserable. Though, as it turns out, it doesn’t matter what he thought.’

  ‘Because he’s dead.’

  Eric grimaced. ‘That’s kind of ghoulish, Mom, don’t you think?’

  Rhetorical question. ‘So what did she mean?’

  ‘The divorce,’ he said, picking up his phone. ‘What else?’

  I set my mug on the table. ‘Ginny knows?’

  Eric didn’t look up from his phone. ‘About what?’

  ‘That her mother and stepfather were getting divorced. Her mom hasn’t told her.’

  ‘Well, she knows.’ He met my eyes. ‘It’s not hard to figure out. I knew about you and dad before you said anything.’

  Ouch. ‘You did?’ I reached across the table and touched his hand. ‘I’m so sorry. We should have been honest with you from the beginning.’