Chapter Thirteen Brad #4
“No, it isn’t. More times than not, the family moves to get away from the attention.” I snapped a few photos of the file and sent it to Adam to dig a little more. “Let’s go check out the place. It’s not far.” We tucked everything back inside the box and replaced it on the shelf.
The Clevelands’ old house was on the outskirts of Colville.
We parked outside the address and looked around.
It was a rather dull-looking street. We approached the gate, and I pulled back the rusty latch on the chain-link fence and let Bree go first down the path toward the house.
I scanned the windows for any sign that someone was home, but no car was in the driveway, so I wasn’t optimistic.
“Ready?” she asked, and I reached over and rang the doorbell.
“Police department, anyone home?” I called out. I rang the bell again, then knocked loudly.
“Excuse me, Officers,” a woman called from next door, “if you’re looking for Mr. Gee, he won’t be home until tomorrow. He’s off visiting his daughter.”
I stepped back to see an elderly lady holding her sweater tight around her.
“Good to know, thanks,” I called and looked at Bree. “Go work your charm.”
“Charm? You’re one to talk.” She chuckled as she walked toward the lady. I tucked that comment away for later.
“Excuse me”—Bree held up a hand—“can I ask how long you’ve been living here?” I lagged behind her a bit.
“Since I was a little girl. I moved here after my father got back from the war.” The skin around her eyes smoothed as she smiled.
“So, you would have been here when little Johnny Cleveland had his accident?” The lady’s face fell, and sorrow replaced her smile.
“Oh dear.” She closed her eyes. “Would you like to come inside? I’ll put some tea on.”
I leaned into Bree. “See? Charm.”
The warmth of the lady’s house felt good. We sat in her living room and had tea placed in front of us. Bree warmed her hands and sipped the brew, but I let mine sit.
“What’s your name?” I asked and pulled out my notepad.
“Jean Moddle.” She leaned to the side and removed an old photo album from under her table. “I don’t like talking about that awful day, but I’m also a believer that his memory shouldn’t be lost.”
“I agree.” Bree spoke softly.
“Let’s see”—she closed her eyes briefly—“it was a Sunday. Everyone was back from church, and the neighborhood kids were out to play. Johnny was a happy boy despite the fact that his father left when he was born. It was only him and his mother. She was a hardworking woman but found a love of gardening thanks to that greenhouse. It was there when she moved in.”
“Did Johnny have any friends?”
“A few, my son included. But it was Reddy that was there that day.” Her eyes drifted downward, and the corners of her mouth pressed in like she was uncomfortable. “That’s not his real name, but he had these deep red cheeks when he got mad, and that’s what the kids called him.”
“Reddy,” I repeated as I scribbled down the name.
Bree set her tea on the coaster. “What was Reddy like?”
“He was a little different from the others.”
“How so?” That caught my attention.
She pulled her sweater tighter around her midsection. “I don’t feel right talking bad about a child, but given what you’re asking, I’ll be honest.” She stared at the wall. “He seemed nice enough, but he had a side of him that made me wary. I can’t say I liked it when my son brought him over.”
“Did he get angry a lot? Or was it something else?” Bree was onto something.
“No, it was just a sense I got. When things didn’t go his way or he didn’t like someone, he got this look. I noticed the boys would quickly give in to him. That look brought on a stone-cold chill, I tell you.” She shivered. “I often wondered . . .”
“What did you wonder, Mrs. Moddle?” Bree shifted forward with interest.
“Oh, nothing, nothing.” She waved her hands. “Don’t mind the words of an old woman.” She seemed to shake it off. “Anyway, after Johnny’s accident, Reddy was in the hospital for a bit. I guess he got some of it too.”
Bree shifted forward with interest. “What happened to him?”
“Some sort of nerve damage to his leg, if I remember correctly. He walked with a cane.”
I thought of the bartender from the nightclub and remembered his hand shaking. He blamed it on being overworked, but now I wondered if it was something brought on by the poison. I made a note to look into it.
“How terrible.” Bree rubbed her chest in sympathy.
“Mrs. Moddle, do you think Reddy had anything to do with Johnny’s death?” I had to ask.
“I don’t know. I’d like to say no, given he got hurt too. It’s just that the boy had something wrong with him.” She pointed to her head.
Interesting.
Bree stepped in. “You mentioned you have a son. Would you happen to have a picture of the boys? Maybe one of Reddy?”
“I do, actually.” She started to flip through the photo book, and Bree threw a knowing glance at me; we both could feel there was something there.
“Ah yes.” Her eyes went glossy as she pulled out the photo and pointed to a dark-haired boy.
“That’s Reddy standing next to Johnny, and that’s my son on the far right. ”
Bree held the photo between us, and something odd nagged at me. He looked familiar.
“And you have no idea what his real name was? Or maybe where he is now?”
“His family moved soon after as well. I think the other kids in town isolated him after that.” She shrugged, then dipped her head to look at something. “I guess I do have his name. I see I wrote it on the back of the photo.”
Bree flipped it over, and we both went cold. What the hell?
I drove Bree back home as she admitted that her head hurt. I really wished she’d rest and let herself fully heal.
“You rest, and I’ll fill Cap in on what we found.” I watched as she slipped her belt off.
“I wonder when he ditched the cane,” she thought out loud.
“Yeah, I have many questions if we’re right.”
She hesitated as she reached for the door. “You’ll update me?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. I watched her leave and heard a text pop up.
Adam: I worked on the footage from Sophia’s camera the night she died, I was able to recover more footage.
Stone: Send me what you have. Great work.
I quickly called Cap.
“You find something?”
“I did.” I hated where this was leading. “Cap, you won’t believe this.”
“Okay.” He paused. “Let’s hear it.” I filled him in on everything as I drove to the station. Once I was there, Cap and I got together and came up with a plan. We texted Savage from Gumbo’s phone.
“Now we wait.” Cap smacked my shoulder, and I headed back to my car.
Later that night I paced the floor as I waited to hear back from Cap. When he called to say we had a response to our text to Savage, I had to sit down. Savage had thrown a wrench in our plan. We hammered out a new idea. I only hoped it would work. Feeling mildly better, I headed to bed.
The next morning, while I was in the kitchen, my phone rang again, and I saw it was Sherry. My mood plummeted, but I answered.
“Hi, Bradley. I know you’re up and probably having your coffee.”
“What is it, Sherry? I’m just about to leave for the office.” I reached over and poured my coffee down the sink.
“I wanted to remind you about the fair.”
Oh, trust me, I remembered. We had attended the fair every year of our marriage. Even at the worst of times, she had dragged me there.
“Seriously, Sherry, what’s your angle here?” I was tired of her mind games.
“Angle? There’s no angle. It’s just that this is our thing, and I thought we were going. Oh please, Bradley, it would be so much fun.”
“It was your thing, not mine,” I reminded her.
“Regardless, I have to work.” That was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that.
She didn’t need to know anything anymore.
I thought of what Cap and I had planned for the fair and exactly how we needed it to happen.
The last thing I wanted was Sherry showing up and screwing things up.
“I heard it’s going to be dead. I’d skip it and save your money. ”
I heard her sigh. “I see. Yeah, maybe I’ll skip it.” Good. “You know, I thought we could at least be friends.”
“I thought we could be friends, too, Sherry, until you started messing with Bree’s head. You crossed a line when you were with her in that ambulance. I put my trust in you that you were going to be there for her.”
“Bradley, no, you misunderstood—”
“I gotta go.” I hung up before she could say goodbye.
I had a meeting with the chief, but to my relief, he canceled, which meant I had a few hours free.
I needed to do something with myself given the facts that Bree needed space and Sherry’s sudden need for my attention was exhausting.
I needed to work through our plan, and the last thing I wanted was Sherry in my head.
My mind went to Bree. I thought again about my decision not to include her in the takedown. I knew it was unfair, but I worried about her safety. She’d been through a lot but had never been through something like this. I shook it off.
I nearly made it out of my driveway when Officer Stanley called through.
“Mornin’, Stone. I’m putting a gal through to you—name’s Donna Jay. She works for Sea Foam Brew. Says she has something to share.”
“Go ahead.” I stopped the car and waited for her voice to push through.
“Detective Stone, my name is Donna, and I worked with Sophia before.” Her voice sounded nervous. She paused, and I heard a small whimper. “Sorry, I still can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I’m so sorry about your friend, Donna.” I tried to be sympathetic while anxious to hear what she might have to offer. “Was there something you wanted to share?”
“Yes.” She sniffed and let out a long breath.
“I’m not sure who you spoke to or haven’t yet, but I would investigate Jeremy Law—he’s a brew rep with Sea Foam, and she used to complain that he followed her home a few times.
He was always creepy with her and hated when anyone else would flirt with her. ”
Ah yes, I remembered he was on our list of people to check out. “Any idea where he might be?”