“Well, it’s old, got a million miles on it, and I have no idea when it had an oil change last, but no, it starts up after a while.”
He looked at his boots. A few people walked by the truck, gave a friendly wave to the chief. She obliged a wave back. Then she spoke to Brian in a low tone. “I found your fingerprints on the nightstand in Nancy’s bedroom.” It was enough to make his shoulders sag. “Can you tell me where you were on Friday night?”
“I was here.” It came out in a flat, hard burst. Realizing what he sounded like, Brian took a few breaths. He reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and lit another one. This time he breathed smoke toward the driver’s side door, in Meghan’s face. “I closed up around eight or nine.”
“Was Nancy with you?”
“She sometimes helps, so yeah.”
“After you closed the diner, did you go right home?”
“I took Nancy back to her apartment.”
“Did you go inside?”
He puffed angrily on the cigarette and then rolled it between his fingers looking at the embers.
“Look, you and I both know where this is going. I can tell by your attitude that Cheryl has no idea about you having an affair with Nancy.” It was out in the breezy Wednesday air and didn’t hang around like the stale cigarette smoke. “I want to tell you to your face, Brian, that I’m moderately certain you didn’t kill your sister-in-law.”
There was shimmering under his eyes. Brian sniffled and rubbed his wrist against his eye. The end of the cigarette dropped ashes that fell like gray snowflakes.
“What happened Friday night after you took Nancy home?”
“I went upstairs with her. I do sometimes when it’s late. I’ll walk her to the apartment. She says the neighbor down the hall sometimes peeks at her. She told me she once caught him going through her hamper in the laundry room. He had her panties when she caught him.”
“Which guy is that?”
“I don’t know. I think he lives in 3G.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Vinnie Ackins, I think.” It was close on both counts, first and last name, close enough for Meghan to have another conversation with Vincent Atkinson.
“So, Friday night,” Meghan said, leading him.
“Well, you know I went inside,” he said with a shrug. “Nancy always empties her tip money from the apron as soon as she gets home.”
Meghan nodded. She was actively listening to Brian talk about his sister-in-law in the present tense. He knew Nancy was gone, but in his mind, at that moment, he was with her alone in the apartment.
“We were joking about the cash she had saved up. She wanted to buy a car. I thought that was a joke because she can’t drive anywhere in this town.” He kicked at the gravel under the driver’s side door. His hand grasped the door.
“Did you sleep with Nancy?”
He didn’t talk, but his body language spoke volumes. He looked up, leveling his eyes with Meghan. She swallowed because there was something dark lurking just behind those eyes. “I love Cheryl, you know? I mean, we’ve been together a long time. I ain’t never cheated on her. But Nancy…
“She came back after her divorce, and it was like she had turned on some switch that was impossible to ignore. I know Peter was an asshole. I think she married him just to get the hell out of town. But he knocked her around a couple of times. Their mother is a freak. She tried to side with Peter like it was Nancy’s fault he was hitting her. She wanted Nancy to stay in Phoenix to work out their marriage.”
Meghan frowned. “I thought Nancy lived in Mesa, Arizona.”
“They did for a while. I think the first time Peter hit her; she ran back to mommy. Their mom lives in Phoenix now. She left Nancy with Peter in the house in Mesa.”
“Okay. What happened Friday night?”
“What do you think happened?” he snapped. The tears ran free down his cheeks. They must have been cold against his skin. Brian was a conflicted man and had a lot more to worry about than icy tears. “It was just a thing. Nancy was wild, free. She married Peter and kept her last name. She knew it wasn’t going to last. But she told me she felt safe with me because Cheryl felt safe with me. You know?”
Meghan stared indifferently at him. Sibling rivalry and coveting what they know was something that had been around a lot long her than the triangle between Cheryl, Brian, and Nancy. “Did Nancy have any other boyfriends in town?”
“She sometimes hinted like she was seeing other guys. She was good at flirting. I think she made about a hundred bucks a night in tips just flirting.”
“Was she seeing anyone else, Brian?” she asked, “Someone that you saw her getting friendlier than anyone else?”
Brian didn’t answer immediately. She saw he was working out a mental timeline, seeing Nancy flirting with other men. It seemed like a very complicated life, Brian having an affair with a woman while married to her sister, keeping it a secret in a town so small that your neighbor can hear a fart through a thin paper wall. It was way too much baggage for Meghan to comprehend.
“Are you going to tell my wife?” he asked.
This time it was Meghan who didn’t talk. She bristled, and Brian saw her body language that shifted between disgust and despair.
“I didn’t kill Nancy.”
“I know, Brian.” She felt she was right about that. He was guilty of something that he had to carry with him the rest of his life, including the fact that he had had an affair with a woman the same night someone visited her and strangled her. Meghan didn’t want to consider how he would continue to get up every day after that. “I have no intention of telling your wife about you and Nancy. If it’s not relevant to Nancy’s death, then I’m not going to say anything. But I want you to consider this: you were the last person who saw Nancy alive. What time did you leave the apartment?”
“I left around eleven-thirty.”
“Did Cheryl see you come home late?”
“No, she was in bed. I got home. I took a shower. I finished the paperwork for the day on the computer, and then I went to bed.”
“What time were you on the computer?”
“After I took a shower, I think about twenty-five minutes. I put in the receipt for the day. Why?”
“The program you use is date and time stamped. If Cheryl vouches that you did the receipts, that puts you using the computer at that time.”
“It’s an online program we use. What about me logging on at Nancy’s house.”
“Did you?”
“Well, no, but I just thought…”
“Your IP at the house is good enough. If you’re looking for an alibi, you don’t have to. All I’m doing is covering all the ends of it. If you got something else to hide, Brian, that’s on you. If you’re cooking your books, I don’t give a shit. If you had nothing to do with Nancy’s death, that’s all that matters to me. I’m not going to say a word about you and Nancy to Cheryl, but I suggest you give her a little credit. You’d be surprised what she does and doesn’t know.”
“You think she knows?”
Meghan started the truck. The muffler rattled against the undercarriage. Sometimes, Meghan felt like she’d gotten lost in Alaska. Then she’s confronted with the same old drama that plagued the rest of the world. Dirty laundry wasn’t something Meghan was any good at airing out. Now she had to deal with someone else who had a thing for dirty laundry.
Chapter Twenty
It sometimes happened during an investigation. Officers dodged between suspects, went over the covered ground, query the same people again, this time with a different set of questions. Legally, Meghan had every right to question anyone she wanted. The residents expected her to do a job that from the outside was nothing more than wandering around, talking to people casually, occasionally scolding people for riding four-wheelers or snowmachines too fast in town, and the occasional arrest for domestic violence.
Her jurisdiction didn’t end when someone demanded a lawyer during questioning o
r denied a search of property without a warrant. While those things were important rules based on everyone’s inalienable rights, what it meant for the case was any evidence collected after the individual evoked their right to refuse wasn’t admissible in court for a crime.
This time when Oliver showed up at Mountain Manor, it was two in the afternoon on Wednesday. Meghan waited for him outside the truck, leaning against the fender. The break in the weather left the thick layer of ice fog but warmed up a little.
“Sorry to get you out of bed.” She had a plan to follow and had specific conditions for Oliver to follow. “We’re going to talk to Vincent Atkinson again. I know he’s in the apartment because I went next door to the grocery store and checked with management.
The Alaska Merchandise Store was a rural example of a lower-forty-eight department store. It was the only place in town Meghan shopped. They managed the produce, dairy, and meat, and it felt like a real store with grocery carts. The company ran the franchise for years, building modern stores all over rural Alaska. It made convenient shopping, even on heavy snow days, if you could get to the store. Vincent worked in the grocery department, stocked shelves, and ran cash register when needed. He was opportunely off work when she wanted to talk to him again about his association with Nancy. It wasn’t that Meghan was desperate for viable suspects; she just had no real leads to follow other than the olive-green glove and the errant fingerprint that didn’t match anyone else so far.
“Listen, I know you were trying to help last time. I appreciate that. But what I’d like you to do this time is to stay back, pay attention to Vincent and me. If he has anyone in his apartment, watch them too. Be my backup, my enforcer. I want you to see how I do things. It’s best if only one officer talks to a suspect at a time.”
They drew a crowd again. Two police officers standing outside of any building, anywhere in America was bound to attract attention. People watched from windows, peeking through the pulled shades or around the strips of cardboard. Tenants coming and going from the complex stopped to wait and see what Meghan and her officer were doing next. She lowered her voice as they made their way into the apartment building and down the corridor.
“Whatever happens with a suspect, anyone you question, what’s important is they have rights to their privacy. If you happen to catch them in the middle of something that could be embarrassing for them, you must respect them. Don’t talk about it with other people. We live in a really small town, Oliver. It’s bad enough everyone knows everyone else. The last thing I want is someone to think that if they talk to the cops, all their secrets are going to be public knowledge.”
“Got it,” he said, “Thanks, Boss.”
Oliver was ambitious but needed a little fine-tuning. He hadn’t gone through any police training academy. She had him and Lester complete a ton of online courses, things that were relevant to policing, but both of her officers didn’t have any real-world experience. It was advantageous in some respects because they could use a go to, ‘I didn’t know,’ and be clear of wrongdoing, as long as it wasn’t extreme.
When Meghan knocked on the door for 3G, she tugged on Oliver’s sleeve to pull him out of the way from standing directly in front of the door. It was an age-old tactic to stay out from in front of the door when questioning suspects. Everyone had a gun in Alaska, except the Village Public Safety Officers.
“Hey, Chief,” Vincent said casually when he opened the door wearing a t-shirt, black wool socks, and basketball shorts. “Hey, Oliver,” he added and wandered back into the apartment, leaving the door open for Meghan and Oliver to enter. The television was on, and the volume was up. Vincent turned down the volume but left on the TV.
“So, Vincent,” Meghan started. Oliver closed the door and stood behind her as she talked to the suspect. “I wanted to talk to you about something, and it might be embarrassing, but I need to know.”
The trigger word ‘embarrassing’ gained Meghan full attention. Vincent turned off the TV. He sat on the sofa, waiting for Meghan to continue.
“I received some information that you and Nancy had contact in the laundry room. Want to tell me about that?”
He waited a moment to answer. She saw him swallow, which is a physical indication that Meghan was on the right track of questioning. “Yeah, I guess.”
“She caught you with her underwear.” Meghan avoided using the word ‘panties’ because it elicited a precise response in some men who were attracted to women’s undergarments, and the word was part of the lexicon for the fetish.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Want to tell me about that?” She was indifferent in her tone, balanced, unassuming. Meghan had her secrets; men and women were allowed to have secrets. As long as it didn’t involve hurting others, exploiting others, didn’t require a category of troubled allusions, then swiping a pair of panties wasn’t going to make Meghan think less of the man; as long as it wasn’t part of escalating behavior.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m here to talk to you about what happened because before you said you saw her around, like it was just a casual thing, passing each other in the hall. I have it on good authority that you were caught going through her hamper in the laundry room.” It was vague but loaded enough to prompt Vincent to stand up from the sofa.
He didn’t say anything but glanced at Meghan before wandering out of the small living room. When he disappeared from view, she felt a tremor of fear because a suspect walking away from an interview is never a good thing. Meghan reached behind her, touched Oliver’s chest, pushing him back toward the door. She heard Vincent opening a dresser drawer, wood scraping on wood. He was getting something in the bedroom off from the living room.
Since he lived in an apartment on the other side of the hall from Nancy’s apartment, Meghan knew the layout, albeit, reversed from Nancy’s apartment. There wasn’t much cover from the small alcove where the doorway leading into the bedroom to the front door where she pushed on Oliver to back up. Meghan stood between her officer and the hallway opening. If Vincent returned flashing a weapon, she’d take the first round.
Grabbing at the pepper spray canister was impossible with the oversized coat on. She had to unzip the jacket, reach around her hip to grab the bottle attached to the basket holster on the belt. By the time she thought out it, Vincent had appeared again carrying something. It wasn’t metallic.
He carried the load to the coffee table and opened his arms. Ladies undergarments fell from the basket he made with his arms. He filtered through the collection and pulled up a thong and stretched out his hand to Meghan.
Breathing again, Meghan stepped back into the living room. Oliver stood with his back to the door. She didn’t know if he was scared or just shocked, he hadn’t said anything or moved since she backed into him.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Those are Nancy’s. I took them. I’m sorry.”
Meghan focused on the rest of the collection on the table. “What about all those?” she didn’t wait for him to answer. This was the warning bell ringing in her head about escalating behavior. Before she didn’t care about him swiping ‘a’ pair, but this turned into deviant deeds. “Vincent, are these from other tenants in the building?”
“Yeah, I guess.” He stood waiting for Meghan to scold him or arrest him or do something that put things into perspective.
She rubbed her face. “Look. Here’s what’s going to happen. Do you have a grocery bag?”
He nodded and moved away from the table, went into the kitchen, opened a cupboard, and pulled a bag out from under the sink.
“Put all those in there. I want Nancy’s underwear on top.” He did as he was told. Now she took the bag from him. “I don’t have time for this Vincent. This is what I have to say: what you’re doing isn’t wrong; it’s just a little misguided. You want panties to play with, whatever, that’s fine. There are internet sites out there you can get whatever you want. Is this it?” She lifted the bag, extended to the en
d of her reach.
He nodded.
“No more stealing, do you understand? I can arrest you for this.” She saw him tense, lip trembled. “I’m not going to arrest you, but I am going to keep an eye on you. If I get a whisper of you taking things from the laundry room, or anywhere, I will arrest you. Is that understood?”
He nodded.
“You’re going to give me your fingerprints too. I want you to ride down to the police station with Oliver. We’re going to get your fingerprints on file. Is that understood?”
He nodded and this time went to collect a pair of cover-alls draped over a chair. He pulled on the canvas, outerwear over the basketball shorts and finished getting dressed. Meghan turned around to talk to Oliver.
“Remember what I said?”
Oliver nodded.
“He’s not in too much trouble, and he doesn’t need anyone knowing about this,” she added, lifting the plastic grocery bag. “This is between you, me, and him. No one else. Got it?”
“I got it, Boss.” The words came out coated in annoyance.
“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to treat you like a child, Oliver. I trust you. I worry about what could happen with Vincent if the wrong person found out.”
“I like that you’re getting his fingerprints.”
She grinned at him. “See, you picked up on that. We don’t have to ask him if he’s been in the apartment, those prints will tell the tale.”
Chapter Twenty-One
On the drive back to the police department, Meghan called Lester. The DV call lasted longer than a day. He was handling it, and she had enough confidence in him to do the right thing. But his investigation took him out of Kinguyakkii. There was a hunting camp upriver. While it was slow-going because Lester had to keep off the river because of the break-up, the shoreline was hard to transverse with the four-wheeler because some of the snow was thick in spots. The worse of it was the inability to use the cell phone to talk to him. They had to rely on the police band radio. Everyone in and around town had a scanner. Their conversations were monitored by anyone who had a two-way radio or scanner. Sometimes the police department broadcast through the radio station when they needed to boost the signal.
A Cold Day for Murder Page 9