by Mary Maxwell
“It was in a jacket in my son’s room,” Alma answered.
“Did you ask Angus about it?” I said.
“Well, of course not!” she huffed. “He would never steal from anyone. Besides, Dr. Whistler told the police they were stolen during the burglary.”
“I know that, but it—”
“There’s something else,” she said quickly. “The coat doesn’t belong to my son, but the owner wrote their last name inside the collar.”
I waited for a few seconds to see if she would reveal the name. When she didn’t, I prodded her gently.
“I know this experience is making you nervous,” I said, “but you’ve just discovered potentially explosive evidence. If the ticket is genuine and the timing is right, it could help identify the person that burglarized Dr. Whistler’s home.”
“And that may be the same person,” she said in a quiet voice, “responsible for Don Sterling’s death, right?”
“That’s correct.” I paused. “So can you tell me the name inside the collar?”
“Grainger,” she said. “But I don’t know if it belongs to Joshua or Rachelle. They were both here last night listening to music with my son in his room.”
“You need to call Dina Kincaid right away and tell her what you found.”
Alma sighed. “I know,” she said. “I put the ticket in a safe place, but left the jacket in my son’s room. I didn’t want him to know what I’d found.”
“She’ll want both,” I told her. “The ticket and the jacket.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Where are you right now?” I asked.
“In the kitchen,” she said. “I made a cup of tea. Then I thought about calling Detective Kincaid, but I wanted to…well, I thought it might calm me down to run all of this by you, Katie. I find Dina to be a little intimidating.”
“She can be intense,” I agreed. “When she’s working a case, particularly something confounding like this one, she really focuses. I can see how that might come across as intimidating.”
“So what should I do?” she asked.
“Did you finish the tea?”
She giggled softly. “Not yet.”
“Then I think you should sit down and enjoy it,” I suggested. “Once that’s gone, see how you feel. If things seem calmer, you should call Dina and let her know. If not, maybe have a second cup and give it a few more minutes.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Alma said.
“I’m curious to know what your instincts are telling you?”
“About the pawn ticket?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you think that Joshua or Rachelle took Rose’s collection and pawned it?”
I listened as the cadence of her breathing increased. Then she told me that she feared rushing to judgment.
“It’s a scrap of paper,” she said. “With two words on the back.”
“That’s true,” I replied. “But it could also be evidence related to a series of violent assaults and the death of someone that we both know.”
“Don Sterling,” she whispered. “I liked him.”
“We all did,” I said. “So the simple truth here is that you have a choice to make.”
“Would you call her for me?” Alma’s voice quivered. “Or do you think it would be better for me to do it?”
“The latter,” I said. “But if it’s easier for you, wait until you’ve had a chance to collect your thoughts.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll call Detective Kincaid within the hour. If I wait any longer than that, I may lose my nerve and have to bother you all over again.”
CHAPTER 25
Early that evening, after Zack and I attended the memorial service for Don Sterling, we drove across town to his brother’s home for the reception.
“Nice place,” Zack said quietly as we walked up the driveway toward an enormous stone house. “What does he do?”
“Ted’s an attorney,” I said. “His wife’s a pediatrician.”
Zack smiled. “Do you know them?”
“We’ve met, but I don’t know either of them well. Scarlett comes in for lunch with her office team whenever someone’s celebrating a birthday. Ted plays basketball with Harper’s husband. She says he’s a nice guy.”
“Then it’s settled,” Zack said with a wink. “Harper’s the definitive authority on nice.”
I pressed one elbow into his side. “No sass, please. This is a somber occasion.”
“I was being serious,” he replied, returning the gentle nudge with one of his own. “And actually, the three of you are good judges of character. I think you have to be if you’re going to work with the public all the time.”
When we stepped through the front door, I saw dozens of familiar faces and quite a few people that I didn’t know.
“Thank you for coming,” Ted Sterling said as he walked toward us. “It’s good to be surrounded by so many of Don’s friends today.”
“He’ll be deeply missed,” I said before giving him a big hug. “How are you doing?”
Ted shrugged. “In a fog,” he said. “I’m the older brother. I always thought that Don would be doing this kind of thing for me after I was gone.”
I nodded. “Of course. We all feel that way about siblings and family members.”
“But then life comes along and knocks you for a loop,” he replied. “My brother was flawed like the rest of us, Katie, but he was a good man. And it’s such a waste really. Donny was only forty-three.”
“Well, we’re both so sorry for your loss,” I said, reaching for Zack’s hand. “If there’s anything that we can do, please don’t—”
“Is it true that you’re helping Detective Kincaid look for Don’s killer?” he asked.
“Well, it’s nothing official,” I answered. “But I’ve helped them before on a few cases; mostly background research or talking with folks around town to try and find helpful information.”
He leaned in and asked if we could speak privately for a few minutes.
“Do you mind?” I asked, turning to Zack.
“Not at all,” he said. “Blanche and Boris are over by the fireplace. I’ll go see how they’re doing while you two have a chat.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” I said, patting his arm before I followed Ted out of the foyer and down the hall.
“We can go in here,” he said, opening a door at the end of the corridor. “And I promise not to make you tie any bows.”
I didn’t understand the odd comment until I’d stepped into a small room outfitted with rolls of wrapping paper, a large work table and stacks of clear plastic boxes filled with ribbons and bows in every color.
“Scarlett finds gift wrapping to be very therapeutic,” he said with a smirk. “I think it’s nuts, but to each their own, right?”
I nodded.
“She volunteers for a couple of local agencies that work with kids,” he explained. “Christmas around here is complete madness.”
“Does she wrap all of the gifts for their parties?” I asked.
He laughed. “The kids come here and do it. They make S’mores outside on the patio, wrap and exchange gifts and generally go wild. It usually takes us a week to clean up after, but it really is one of our favorite things during the holidays.”
“That’s so cool,” I said. “And I’m not surprised. Scarlett’s such an amazing woman.”
His grin glowed with pride. “I know. That’s why I married her.”
For a moment, it seemed like we were enjoying a casual chat at a very different type of social gathering. A summer barbecue. A housewarming. An office party. But then I reminded myself that we were surrounded by dozens of people mourning the loss of a very good man whose life had ended much too soon due to an anonymous and inexplicable act of violence.
“So before I get into it,” Ted said, leaning against the work table, “thank you again for coming today. My brother loved your place, Katie. I can’t tell you how many times he raved about one piece of pie
or another.”
“Thank you, Ted. I’m going to miss his big grin and joyful laugh.”
He nodded, glancing down. “Aren’t we all?”
“It’s still such a shock,” I said. “Probably always will be.”
“Yeah, I think so. I can’t get my brain around the whole thing. I mean, who would sneak up on my brother and hit him with a two-by-four? What did he do to make someone so blind with rage that attacking him made sense?”
“Hopefully, we’ll have answers to those questions soon,” I said.
Ted kept his gaze trained on the floor for a few moments. Then he looked up and said, “I think Donny saw the guy.”
The announcement was a stunner.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I didn’t even make the connection until last night,” Ted told me. “Scarlett and I drove by Donny’s place on the way home from the store. We pulled up to the curb and just sat there. You know? Thinking about all the times we had dinner there or celebrated special occasions with Donny and Lucy. And as I stared at the house…well, to be more specific, as I stared at the bird feeder that my brother built a few years ago, I suddenly remembered him telling me that he saw someone standing outside a couple of times this week.”
“By the bird feeder?”
He nodded. “The one in the back. It’s on the opposite side of the yard from the shed where Donny was attacked.”
“And he saw someone out there?” I said.
“Twice,” Ted replied. “Maybe three times. I told him to call the cops, but Donny thought it might be a kid from the neighborhood.”
“Did he recognize them?” I asked.
“I don’t really know,” Ted said. “When he told me about it, I didn’t ask too many questions. My brother didn’t seem all that worried. He told me that he’d asked the kid what he was doing and the kid just shrugged and ran away.”
“So it was a kid?”
Ted blinked. “Sorry?”
“You just said that Don described the person as a kid,” I said. “Did he get specific about age or appearance?”
His eyes narrowed as he thought about my question.
“I don’t even know if he told me for sure that it was a kid,” he said. “He just told me it was someone slim and not too tall. To be honest, I can’t really remember the details of the conversation. When he first brought it up, he sort of joked about having his first Lionel ever. When we were—”
“His first what?” I asked.
“I’m getting to that,” Ted said. “When we were kids, one of our best friends was a kid named Lionel. He was super shy and awkward, mainly because of his weight and the fact that most of the other kids in school bullied him mercilessly. But Donny and I liked the guy. If you got to know him, Lionel was smart and funny and so, so kind. He also trespassed all over town. He’d wander into yards, houses with unlocked doors, stores that were closed for the day.”
“So you and your brother liked Lionel,” I said, “but the other kids didn’t get to know him?”
Ted shook his head. “They never gave him a chance. But you know how kids can be.”
“And some adults,” I said.
He laughed. “Yeah, no kidding. Adults can be even worse.”
“But back to Donny,” I said. “Did he talk to this person?”
“Not really,” Ted answered. “He tried to explain that you can’t just climb over someone’s fence without permission, but then he invited them to stay and watch the birds since they was already there. The kid never said a word. Donny told me they just shrugged and left.”
“And what about a description?” I said.
“Of the person?” Ted frowned. “Is that what you mean?”
“Yes, did Don happen to mention anything about their appearance or what they were wearing?”
He answered with a laugh. “C’mon, Katie. You know Don. He wasn’t one for drilling down too far. He was always running a million miles an hour, so life was a blur of quick glances and even quicker cuts.”
“Right,” I said. “That’s true.”
“Except he did say one thing,” Ted added. “He was laughing about how they climbed the fence in cowboy boots and a hoodie that was way too big.”
“Can you repeat that?” I asked.
“Donny told me that the trespasser was wearing boots and a sweatshirt when they showed up in the backyard.”
“Did he mention anything else?” I asked.
Ted’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think so. But it’s like I said a moment ago, my brother wasn’t big on details.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Did you share all of this with Detective Kincaid?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. We’ve been pretty consumed getting ready for the service and burial and everything.”
“Do you mind if I pass it along to her?” I said. “She’ll definitely want to know about it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that she’ll want to hear it directly from you at some point soon.”
“Absolutely,” Ted said. “That’s kind of why I wanted to mention it to you tonight. Scarlett told me about your association with the police, so I thought that I’d let you know while you were here for the reception.”
“I’m glad that you did,” I said. “I’ll call Dina later and tell her what you’ve just shared with me.”
“I hope that it helps.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Maybe the person saw something that could help crack the case.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said.
CHAPTER 26
“Blanche was in rare form tonight,” Zack said as we drove home later that evening. “While you and Ted were talking, she entertained everyone with a story about the first time she met Don.”
I leaned my head back on the seat and closed my eyes. Then I asked if the tale involved adult language, Frank Sinatra references or a recipe for monkey bread.
“Not at all,” Zack said with a laugh. “Did you think that it would?”
“You know Blanche,” I answered. “She has a habit of recycling things from one story to the next. Monkey bread has turned up in at least three of the yarns that she tells whenever she meets someone new.”
“Well, I’m happy to report that she was perfectly behaved today,” Zack said. “There were no vulgar words and no monkey bread. In fact, listening to her talk reminded me again how much I wished that she was one of my teachers when I was in high school.”
“She’s a firecracker,” I said. “I lived through it, and I still find it hard to believe that she has more energy and audacity in her eighties than she did back then.”
“And you were among her last students, right?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “I think she taught for two or three more years after Dina and I graduated. They changed the rules about the retirement age somewhere after we finished school, so Blanche had no choice in the matter.”
“That’s impressive,” he said, pondering the thought. “It’s amazing that she had you two troublemakers in the same class and lived to teach another day.”
“Very funny,” I said in a dry, flat tone. “Maybe you should entertain everybody next time.”
He shook his head. “Nobody wants to hear me talk about adjusting the lighting for a photo shoot or recasting a bunch of models to satisfy an especially grouchy client.”
“You never know. If the subject was somebody famous, they might ask you to tell the story twice.”
He stared through the windshield for a few minutes. Then he asked how Ted was doing.
“He’s still in shock,” I said. “Scarlett told me that he’s been going through old photo albums every night before bed.”
“That’s understandable,” Zack said. “Losing your younger brother in such a senseless act is a hard one.”
“Do you know about their parents?” I asked.
Zack shook his head.
“They were killed in a freak accident when Don and Ted were in college,” I said. “Don was a freshman and Ted was in his second
year of grad school. Their mother and father were driving across country to visit another relative when the brakes failed on their car during a snowstorm. Mr. Sterling didn’t see the semi on the road ahead until it was too late.”
“That’s awful,” Zack said.
“Completely,” I agreed. “And now Ted’s alone. All of his immediate family members are gone.”
“He has Scarlett,” Zack said.
“Thank goodness, right?”
He nodded. “What did he say when you two stepped away? I mean, not to pry or anything.”
“You’re fine,” I said. “Ted told me that Don caught a teenager in his backyard recently.”
“Doing what?”
“Don guessed that they wanted to watch the birds,” I said. “The trespasser wasn’t the chatty kind.”
Zack chuckled. “I don’t follow, babe.”
“Don has bird feeders at his house,” I explained. “Apparently, it’s a pastime that he’s enjoyed since childhood. And a couple of times lately, a teenager that Don believed lived in the neighborhood jumped the fence to watch the birds in back.”
“Okay, that’s kind of random,” Zack said.
“Maybe,” I replied.
He laughed again. “I can hear it in your voice, Katie. You think it’s random, too.”
“Well, of course,” I said. “But it could be completely innocent. Don told Ted that the kid reminded him of misfits they both knew when they were younger.”
“Does Dina know about the misfit in Don’s backyard?”
“She will as soon as I tell her,” I replied.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“About the kid and the birds?”
“Yes,” Zack said. “Do you think it’s related to what happened to Don?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but it’s worth looking into.”
CHAPTER 27
Barney Loomis glared at the flat of strawberries on the center island in the Sky High kitchen. It was the morning after the memorial service for Don Sterling.
“Didn’t I tell you last night?” he said, nodding toward the fruit. “They’re so perfect, they look fake.”