Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
Packing was the worst. Ferd folded her favorite sweatshirt and held it to her chest. Nothing about going back felt right. It’s because you’re terrified of Hunter. What kind of officer are you if you can’t handle a little stress?
She tossed the sweatshirt into her bag. Her phone buzzed from somewhere on her bed under the stack of clothes she had to tame. She shoved the pile over and retrieved it.
“Hello?”
“Kevin called and said he lit a fire under the guy at the lab. They already have the preliminary results from the can. Wait . . . am I catching you at a bad time?” Duke said.
Ferd laughed as she slouched in her favorite chair. “I’m just packing. What did the results say?”
He went silent for a second. “Packing? You really don’t think they’ll let you stay, do you?”
She couldn’t answer him. Her gut said her time at Wayside was ending. “I don’t know. I’m preparing.”
“Huh,” he paused. “Carl’s prints were on the can taken from Bailey’s apartment. The saliva on the top matched too.”
She shot straight up in her seat. “Wait, that means the blood under Bailey’s fingernails belonged to—”
“Carl,” Duke finished.
“He wasn’t even on our list until the end.” What if they’d never seen that argument?
“Did he lie about not having a key?”
She heard Duke’s slight intake of breath as he grinned. “I may have tricked him. I didn’t ask him the question in a way that I would get the answer we needed just then. I asked him if anyone ‘had given him a key’. I didn’t ask if he had a key.”
She laughed. “So, if you find Bailey's key in his possession, one of two things is true. Either he lied, making him a bad witness, or he stole the key from someone, which also makes him a bad witness.”
“Exactly. Either way, I’d get what I wanted out of the question. When we get a warrant, I have no doubt we’ll find Monica’s pink keyring in one of his junk drawers. I doubt she came to that houseboat often, meaning she likely didn’t leave it here.”
“Likely not. So, we think he was leaving the beers at Bailey’s apartment, but that doesn’t prove murder or drug activity. Even Carl’s blood under his fingernails isn’t enough for a jury to convict him.”
“It’s a good start though. When are you heading out?”
“Tomorrow evening. Connor is driving then staying at my apartment until we find out if I’m coming back or not. He seems to think I’ll be coming right home. I hate doing this. If he has to leave me there, then I’ll have to come all the way back to get my car. I’ll have to catch rides to work.”
“Assuming they want you to,” Duke interrupted.
She closed her eyes and imagined sitting at one of the administrative desks back in Cody.
Could she do that job for a short time to do what she really wanted to do later?
Maybe. There was always the chance Hunter had poisoned her boss against her enough that she'd spend the rest of her career behind a desk.
A pain shot through her neck, and she sat up straight to relieve it.
Nope. Desk work was not for her. She folded the copy of the letter Brendon had given her and tucked it safely into the side pocket of her bag. “I’m making my assumptions based on lived experience.”
“Well, you’ve got one more evening and part of the day tomorrow.
I’d planned to go over there and arrest Carl on suspicion of murder.
My hope is that he’ll confess once I pull the cuffs out and we can call this closed before you head out of town.
Sure would be nice if you didn’t have to worry about it. ”
If the case was closed, she also wouldn’t be getting any calls later to update her. “Yeah, that would be great.”
“I’ll be out there in twenty to pick you up.”
Prompt as a stopwatch, Duke pulled in precisely twenty minutes later. She opened the passenger door and climbed in. “Did you speed? Just to make sure you followed your own rules?”
He laughed as he backed the truck out of the parking spot.
She held her tongue the entire drive. A clock seemed to be ticking in the back of her head, reminding her every moment was another one gone. Soon, she’d be back where she ‘belonged.’ At least, according to her own logic three years ago.
On the far end of town, bright sun hit the metal roof of Carl’s houseboat. It bobbed on low waves, and seagulls screamed at her from the dock. “Seems kind of sad to leave a vessel that was meant to sail, tied up all the time. It’s no different from living on land but having a waterbed,” he said.
She laughed, thankful Duke was able to lighten her mood. “I suppose you’re right. If it doesn’t go anywhere, it’s just a house with a really flooded basement.”
He strode to the side of the boat, stepped onto the small patio connected to the dock, and knocked on the door.
A muffled sound came from inside. “Did you hear that?” Ferd asked.
“I did.” He knocked again. The sound came again, louder this time. “Someone is trapped in there.” He took two steps back, then drove his shoulder into the door, banging it open.
Kelly sat on a narrow stool in the middle of the kitchen with her wrists and ankles tied tightly. She had a towel stuffed in her mouth. Ferd yanked it free, and Kelly coughed hard, wheezing to catch her breath.
“You’re safe now. What happened?” Duke asked as he cut the rope from her ankles.
She closed her eyes and wiped tears from them with shaking fingers.
“I came to see if Carl had any more odd jobs for me. He’s looked out for me for a while.
He got me the job with Monica, and he’s just been good.
He had nothing for me today, but was really nice.
That is until the guy in the designer suit showed up.
Then he turned mean. He called me names and told me to leave. ”
Duke led her over to the sofa for a marginally more comfortable seat. “You didn’t leave?”
“No. He insulted me. I don’t take that. I told him if he didn’t apologize, I’d quit working for Monica.
Then he really blew up at me. Suit guy helped him tie me up, and he told me no one was coming back here.
No one would find me. He’s leaving and not coming back.
” She hiccoughed. “I could’ve died, and he didn’t care. ”
Duke whipped out his phone and poked it a few times, then turned it to face Kelly. “Is this the suit man?”
Her jaw dropped but she recovered quickly. “Yeah, that’s the guy. Who is he? I’ve never seen him in town before.”
Ferd slid a little closer to her on the sofa and spoke softly. “Kelly, I’ve noticed that Carl drank the same kind of beer as the can you gave us to test. Did Carl have anything to do with that?”
She gripped her hands together tightly between her knees.
“I wasn’t supposed to say anything to anyone.
I could tell people a lot of stuff, but not that.
Carl put them there. His hope was that people would see Bailey bringing them out.
They didn’t, so I was supposed to start the rumor.
That’s when Carl started dumping the last few drops from all the cans he brought on the coat Bailey always wore.
People would hear from me that he was drunk.
He’d smell like a drunk. No one would question it. ”
Diabolical. Ferd resisted the urge to pull away from Kelly.
“But why?” Duke asked.
“I don’t know exactly. Carl said Bailey did some horrible things to his ex-wife Monica. Carl wanted to make sure Bailey paid for what he’d done. He never told me what the plan was, but it had to do with ruining his reputation first, then pinning some huge crime on him so he would go off to prison.”
Ferd cast a glance at Duke, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. He shifted, turning himself to completely face Kelly. “I need to know. What is your role in all this?”
Her eyes widened. “You mean . . . I’m a suspect? You think I killed Bailey?”
“You helped cultivate a lie about him, one that would cover up for him being potentially arrested for something he didn’t do. If we find out that malicious intent was actually tied to his death . . .” He left the rest of the thought hanging.
“I could be arrested?” Her chin wobbled. “I could go to jail for lying?” her voice pitched to a squeak. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I only wanted to make a name for myself.”
“I need to know what you knew and when you knew it. Clearly, Carl thought you were a liability, or he wouldn’t have tied you up, intending to leave you here until you were found.”
She shivered. “Most likely dead.”
Duke didn’t contradict her, and Ferd kept her mouth shut. Duke clearly had a plan, and he’d tell her what he thought when they left. If only she could read his mind.
“I honestly didn’t know. I didn’t think it was right at first. I needed the money, though, and Carl paid really well. Like . . . really well. I don’t know how a fisherman afforded all the things he helped me with.”
“He paid you directly? For what?” Ferd asked.
“Well, for all those odd jobs I told you about. He also paid me to clean Monica’s house. She never did. He was worried about her, since Bailey wasn’t good about sending money. She told Carl she had to live on cans of soup because she was so broke.” Kelly leaned forward. “You believe me?”
“Honestly?” Duke frowned. “No.” He folded his hands and relaxed back into the sofa as if it were the most comfortable seat in the world.
“Think about it. Carl was doing all of this for Monica, according to you. If he had the money to pay you to do things, then that money could’ve as easily just been given to Monica to help her.
Plus, and I know you couldn’t know this, but Bailey was still sending money to Monica.
Lots of it. Everyone else assumed he’d stopped.
Even his boss. But he was sending her checks instead of having the money drawn from his pay automatically. ”
“She was still getting paid?” Kelly’s mouth dropped open. “She lied to Carl?”
“It happens. People get greedy,” Duke said.
“I’m never cleaning for her again. I didn’t know that. Maybe he only told me that story because then I’d feel bad for her and be willing to help him ruin Bailey’s reputation. I guess I’m no better than her. I was greedy too. I’m sorry.”
Duke motioned for Ferd to follow him. “I’m not arresting you. For now. Stay in town.” He pulled open the drawer most likely to hold junk rather than silverware. It was filled with old photographs, their edges curled and darkened with age. He sifted through them. Nothing.
“Help me look.” He nodded at her.
Ferd opened a nearby tackle box and lifted the different sections.
Seemed like the perfect place to hide a key that would look like brightly colored tackle.
She closed it quickly. She scanned the tiny galley.
If she wanted to hide something small, she'd choose a place no one opened very often.
Carl lived alone and bachelors rarely baked .
. . Shoved in the corner of the tiny built-in oven was a fuzzy pink keyring.
“Bingo.” Ferd carefully grabbed the fuzz in case they could get prints off the key.
“Time to go.” Duke headed for the door.
“Where?” Ferd held tight to the keyring fuzz.
“Time to find that boat.”