The Devil Made Me

by Lorena May

  Darby eyes her partner up and down with a sarcastic smile. “Much like someone’s I know.”

  He ignores that, holding up a bagged iPhone. “After they printed his phone I checked out his recent calls. Saturday he called and received calls from a number. I traced it. It’s his partner, Steve’s. Five calls back and forth from noon on. No calls or texts on his phone after 7:00 pm Saturday.”

  Darby chews her lip, eyes flashing. “The estimated time of death is sometime after midnight.”

  “Right. They traced his phone. He was at the Ritz all day, then went home around 8:00, where he stayed until just before midnight. Looks like he met the killer at the restaurant.”

  “But nobody shows up on the camera?”

  Brandon pulls himself straight, lowering his arms to rest on her desk. “No. So it’s somebody who knows how to avoid it. The doors were always locked after hours, Mona said. We’ll check with the pastry cook, but it appears it was someone with a key. There is that side entrance.”

  “We need to find out which staff are given keys. Find out if Gabe had duplicates.” Darby chews her lip. “Could the brother-in-law have had one made?”

  “Maybe he wanted his little sister out of that mess. And she’d inherit his portion of the business, wouldn’t she?”

  “Probably.”

  Brandon looks at the white-board. “Nate feels he has to protect his sister, and obviously hates the vic.”

  Darby rakes her fingers through her hair. “Possible . . . but why would he be at the restaurant? Maybe he followed Gabe out at night, caught Gabe with another woman, though none shows up on the tape . . . Could Ana or anyone else have used the side door? Either they had a key or he let them in . . . No cameras in the staff-room, unfortunately . . . Maybe the killer was in the building before he arrived?” She paces, deep in thought. “But this wasn’t a crime of anger or passion. It was a cold-blooded murder. Likely planned. Someone met Gabe at the restaurant. Someone who knew how to avoid the cameras. Would Nate?”

  Brandon cocks his head. “Maybe he asked Steve where they could talk privately. Checked out the cameras before-hand. He looks like a crim.”

  Darby’s eyes flash. “For sure. There’s something about him. We need to check him out.”

  “Do ya like Mona? She’s hot after Gabe and he humiliates her?” A smile dances on Brandon’s lips. “She’s a MILF I’d take on.”

  Darby sniffs, tilts her head, eyes narrowed. “She seemed pretty broken up about his death. Is she that good an actress? Maybe . . . There was something about her . . . She’d know how to avoid the camera. And has access.”

  “How about the wife?”

  “Talk about good reason!” Darby scoffs. She’s pacing faster now, head down, hands in her jacket pockets. “But why at the restaurant? Unless to throw off suspicion . . . She’d have to be a pretty good actor as well. Almost fainted at the news.”

  “But she didn’t, did she?” Brandon points out. “And her tears could be a mix of regret and guilt. Or fake.”

  Darby stops and looks at her partner. “She seems so frail. Do you think she’s up to it?”

  “It’s not that hard to fire a gun with one dainty little hand.” Brandon taps a staccato on Darby’s desk with his palms. “Gabe and Steve have been having problems. And what’s the waiters name? Tom? A little dust-up the other day?”

  “And Mona mentioned the waitress, Ana.”

  “Who the vic groped . . .”

  Brandon chuckles. “Maybe she was meeting him there. Maybe she didn’t mind a little hanky-panky.”

  “But the waiter, Tom, did.”

  “Could he entice Gabe to the restaurant at that hour? There was no forced entry. Would a waiter have a key?”

  Darby tilts her head, squinting. “And the staff-room. Have you ever seen one that clean?”

  Brandon laughs. “Never! And why was Gabe at the restaurant at that hour?”

  “Nate says Cindy’s alone. They just got back together. What does that mean?”

  Leaning back, clasping his hands behind his head, Brandon grins. “So, who do we talk to first?”

  Chapter 22

  ~Chloe

  It’s the picture of domestic harmony. Morning sunlight streaming through the window, smells of fresh coffee and bacon, the little round oak table set with cheery yellow plates, napkins and place mats, all warm and cozy. Chloe and Steve are cooking breakfast, chatting cheerily, humming, smiling . . . This was such a good idea, she thinks. She says, “Aren’t you glad we did this? We needed it.”

  His arms circles her waist and he kisses the top of her head. “I’m very glad.”

  A little tune. His phone. Steve picks it up from the counter. Frowns. “It’s Mona.”

  Chloe blows a puff of air from her lips. “Pppuh. We can’t even have one morning without them bugging us?”

  Steve taps his phone. “Mona doesn’t bug us unless it’s necessary, Honey. You know that.” He waits a moment. “Hello, Mona?”

  Chloe watches his face drain. Mouth fall open. Then he clenches his jaw, regaining his normal. “Mona, are you okay?”

  “What’s wrong?” Chloe cries out, but Steve is focused one-hundred-percent on the call.

  “Look after yourself, okay? We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he says, finally.

  When he hangs up his face is solemn; white. “Gabe’s been shot.”

  Chloe gasps. “Is he okay?”

  Steve’s face has a haunted look. “He’s dead.”

  “Ohmygod! No!” Tears spring to Chloe’s eyes, her face aghast. “When? Who?”

  “Mona found him in the staff room when she went in to work this morning. He’d been shot right there.”

  “At the restaurant?” Chloe shakes her head in disbelief. She sinks to a chair at the table, her lower lip trembling. “Ohmygod. Gabe!”

  Dazedly, Steve dishes the bacon, eggs, toast and tomatoes they so happily cooked and sliced just a few minutes ago. “We’ll eat and get back.”

  But Chloe can’t eat. She pushes the food around on her plate as it all sinks in. The tears come, and she moves to sob into her husband’s warm, comforting chest.

  Chapter 23

  ~ Darby

  Hannah, the pastry cook is a plump, pleasant-looking young woman with ruddy skin and sandy-colored hair, tied back. Behind her Darby hears the boisterous voices of children playing, toys scraping the floor and a recording of “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” sung in a chirpy voice.

  When they’ve entered her small, cluttered living room and been seated it’s obvious from her look of sheer amazement that she knew nothing of a murder having taken place so close to the kitchen, where she worked.

  It takes her a moment to recover, her mouth hanging open. “I didn’t see anything,” she stammers. “Wow! Everything seemed the same as usual. I came to work at 4:00 and started baking. No sounds, no people, nothing.”

  “Did you know Gabe Harrington?” Darby asks, handing a small child the toy that has just flown into her lap.

  “Sorry!” Hannah jumps up to take up the offending toddler into her arms, looking him in the eye. “No throwing things. Remember?” She turns to Darby. “I bake in the morning and babysit the rest of the day. Gives my own kids some company, and pays the bills.” She smiles a little, almost apologetically.

  “You’re a busy girl,” Darby chuckles. “I admire you! We won’t take up too much of your time.”

  Brandon shuffles impatiently. “Did you know Gabe Harrington?”

  Hannah’s breath hitches, and she stares at him wide-eyed. “It was Gabe?”

  Brandon nods. “Did you know him?”

  “Yeah. He hired me.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Brandon is leaning forward now, pinning the young woman with an intense look.

  Does he suspect her?. Darby watches, intrigued.

  “I hardly ever see him. I work from 4:00 to about 6:30, and no one else is there at that time.”

  “How do you get paid?” />
  “The money goes into my bank account. We live in 2019, after all. Even in a small town.” Good for her! He’s being a jerk.

  “What was your relationship with Gabe?” Brandon presses.

  “He was my boss. I hardly knew him. I see his wife at swimming lessons and rec activities. But I didn’t know him, really.”

  “What can you tell us about his wife?”

  “Cindy went to the same high school as I did, and her little girl is the same age as Jaime, my daughter. Cindy’s sweet. Kind of shy. I don’t know . . .”

  “Are you and Cindy close?”

  “Not really. We’re both pretty busy.”

  “Did she ever talk to you about her husband?”

  Hannah hesitates, thinking. “Well, they split up just after Veronica – that’s their little girl – was born. He was running around, I think, and Cindy was pretty broken up. But they’re back together now, and she says everything’s fine.”

  “Do you think it’s fine?”

  Hannah shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Know anything about a fight between Gabe and the waiter, Tom?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Like I said, I’m only there early mornings before anyone else comes to work. I don’t know anything about what happens around there. There’s an edge to her voice. She’s becoming irritated. Brandon has that effect.

  Darby breaks in, speaking softly, carefully. “Do you know how Gabe and Cindy met?” What did a player like him see in a mousy little thing like her?

  Hannah frowns, thinking. “I think she said that her dad took her to the Ritz for her birthday and Gabe made a big celebration of it for her. Brought a cake to the table, champagne, the whole bit. Then he asked her out. The rest is history.” She rolls her eyes. Obviously not impressed.

  Darby chooses her words carefully. “What was Cindy like before she met Gabe?”

  Hannah just stares questioningly.

  “I mean, was she out-going? Popular? Athletic? Just generally . . . “

  Hannah, bouncing the child on her lap, calls to the others. “Quiet, you guys. Do you want to go watch tv?” Her words fall into oblivion. She looks at Darby, eyes narrowed. “She was a nice kid. Not popular or athletic or out-going.” She clamps her mouth shuts, takes a deep breath, then says, “Pretty, though. And sweet. I think he liked that she was easy to control. Compliant-like, you know?”

  Darby nods, thoughtfully. “Did you know her brother, Nate?”

  “Pppuhhh!” Hannah’s eyes widen as she blows a gust of air. “Only by sight and reputation. Total opposite to Cindy. Wild and mean, I’ve heard.”

  She turns her attention to the four tots, who are screaming and grabbing at a mechanical dinosaur.

  “Thanks, Hannah,” Darby says, standing, giving Brandon, who is sprawled in his chair as if he plans to sojourn awhile, the look. Reluctantly, he stands.

  Darby hands Hannah her card. It’s stuffed into a shirt pocket, and Hannah is fully into kid-mode. She doesn’t even turn to look when they leave.

  STEVE LIVES WITH HIS wife, Chloe, in a Victorian-style house backed onto a forest. It’s modest compared to Gabe and Cindy’s; charming with white vinyl siding, green trim and a wrap-round verandah. A silver BMW is parked in the driveway, and the inside door is open, revealing overnight bags that have been dropped in the entrance.

  They ring the bell, and a young woman appears in the hallway. She’s tall and slim, flawlessly put together, with thick red hair, stylishly long and straight. Even at home she wears flattering wedge heels accenting trim, muscular legs. Large green eyes fringed with dark lashes, pearly skin, delicate features . . . Darby glances at Brandon, who is visibly impressed. Goggling! She suppresses a smile.

  As she opens the door the red-head looks expectantly at him.

  “Hi. I’m Corporal Brandon Bell and this is Sergeant Darby Greer. We’re here to ask a few questions. Are you Chloe Williams?”

  “I am. Come in,” she says, holding the door as they enter. “This must be about Gabe?”

  “You’ve heard the news then.”

  Tears spring to her eyes, and she nods. “Our manager called us this morning. We were at our cabin in the mountains. We came right home.” She stands a moment looking lost. Then, shaking her head as if to clear away a fog, she says, “Come in. Can I get you anything?”

  “Nothing thanks.” They enter a room decorated in greys and silver with the odd touch of bright orange; tasteful and soothing.

  A middle-aged man, handsome and fit-looking enters from what looks to be the kitchen. He has thick, dark hair streaked with silver, intelligent grey eyes and a self-assurance that is almost unsettling. Chloe goes to him and proudly introduces her husband. “This is Corporal Bell and Sergeant Greer,” she tells him, touching his arm, beckoning him into the room.

  They sit, Chloe and Steve on a grey leather love-seat, Darby and Brandon on chairs opposite.

  “We’re devastated. In shock.” Chloe trembles visibly. “Just can’t believe it.”

  “Our condolences,” Brandon says. “You were close to Gabe?”

  Chloe starts. A quick breath, and recovers. “I – well, he was a partner in our business.”

  Steve touches her wrist protectively. “I’ve known Gabe all his life. We had a good relationship with him, yes. We’ve just learned the news, and, as you can imagine, we are pretty shaken up. We saw Mona as soon as we returned to Rockydale, and have shut the restaurant down per your instructions.”

  Brandon cocks his head and looks at him through hooded eyes. “You and Gabe had your differences. Am I right?”

  Steve blanches, tightens his jaw. “We had some disagreements as to how to handle the business. They weren’t personal.”

  “What disagreements?”

  Steve gives Brandon a hard look, his jaw tightening. Then, “He was thinking of selling part of his share. I wanted to keep it between just us.”

  “So, personal.” Brandon cocks is head and looks at Steve through narrowed eyes. “Who was he planning to sell to?”

  “A man named Cam Cooke.” Steve has lost his nice-guy demeanor, and clamps his mouth, staring at Brandon.

  Darby steps in. She’ll play nice girl. “And would this have had a negative effect on your business, Mr. Williams?” Her eyes are filled with compassion. Much of it real.

  He softens a little as he gazes at her. “It would. Cam Cooke is very hands-on in businesses he has interests in, and he’s known for cutting corners to maximize profit. I didn’t want that for our restaurants.”

  “I don’t blame you. The Ritz in Rockydale, at least, is known for high quality food, good employee relations . . . all of that.” Darby nods earnestly. “Could he have hurt your business if he’d gone through with the sale?”

  Chloe says, “It never came close to that. Just a little game Gabe played with Steve.”

  “He liked to play games?” Brandon asks.

  “He was harmless,” Chloe says, giving him a quick little smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her nose wrinkles when she smiles. Cute.

  “You weren’t concerned?” Brandon points his question at Steve.

  “No, not really. I’m not even sure of the legalities. If he could do that without my say-so.” Steve isn’t grinning. He speaks quietly. A man used to authority.

  “Yet you called him four or five times on Saturday just before he died.” Brandon shifts back in his chair, his lip curling.

  Steve stands, his hands clenched at his sides, body stiff. “I don’t like your attitude. We were discussing it back and forth, yes,” he says, struggling to keep his voice calm.

  “He was about to ruin your business?” Brandon crosses one ankle over the other, staring casually at the older man across from him.

  “It wouldn’t have come to that.”

  “Can you tell us what was said during those conversations?” Darby asks.

  Steve takes a deep breath, hesitates, then looks directly at the affable police-woman facing him. “We spoke a few times. I c
alled him. He called me. Trying to come to a solution. He needed money, and I was prepared to lend it to him if he wouldn’t let me buy him out.”

  “Lend? Were you expecting to get your money back?” Brandon smirks, practically rolling his eyes.

  Steve looks scornfully at him. “We were planning to do so legally. Yes, I would get our money back.” He reaches over to touch his wife’s hand. She looks up at him adoringly.

  “But isn’t this easier?” Brandon’s voice is taunting. “Where were you Saturday at midnight?”

  “We were at our cabin.”

  “And can anyone verify that? Anyone see you?”

  “My wife.”

  “Oh, and she’d never lie for you, right?” Brandon drawls.

  Steve rises. “I’m finished answering your questions. If you want to speak to me again, it will be through my lawyer.”

  He moves toward the doorway, clearly indicating he’s seeing them out. Chloe stands, hesitantly.

  Darby stands and looks at Brandon with eyes that say, ‘You went too far. Time to go.’

  Brandon casually pulls himself from the chair, and shambles toward the door-way, joining his partner. “It’s been a slice. See ya later,” he says. They exit the house without a good-bye from the Williams’s.

  Chapter 24

  ~ Grace

  It’s 10:00 am. Grace groans, flipping over, yanking her pillow onto her head. “Fuck! Who phones me at this hour?” She grabs her phone from the rickety bed-side table, opens her eyes and sees through a fuzzy slit her sister’s name. Chloe.

  “Hello” she croaks.

  “Gracie?”

  She clutches her cell-phone, suddenly taken way back to another time. A time before she chose this life that chews you up and spits you out. A time when 10:00 didn’t feel like the middle of the night. Childhood.

  Gracie, I bet you can’t beat me up that tree!

  Gracie, do you know where they hid those gummie-bears?

  Gracie, do you love me . . .

  “Chloe?”