Chapter 10 The Unraveling
Four hours later
April was back in Dr. April Chandrakanta mode as she stood behind the interrogation glass and observed Luke and Deputy Wheeler Remington playing Good Cop, Bad Cop with Martha Masterson.
Gil stood beside her, beaming with pride as his mouthy nephew aced the good cop role.
Wheeler was a younger version of Gil with wavy auburn hair and rangy good looks. He was straddling his chair, with his forearms resting casually on the back of the seat. “Mrs. Masterson…” He leaned her way, employing a caressing voice. “May I call you Martha?”
“As long as I can call you Wheeler.” Martha Masterson fluttered her eyelashes self-consciously.
She was a few years older than April, divorced twice, with a growing rap sheet.
It was a wonder she’d remained out of jail for as long as she had.
Her level of confidence showed she’d gotten away with enough that she was feeling invincible.
Her pride would lead to her eventual downfall.
“Of course,” Wheeler drawled, winking at her.
“He’s flirting with her.” April muffled a chuckle. “I thought you said he was married.”
“Very happily married,” Gil sounded amused, “but she doesn’t know that.”
“We just need to ask you a few questions,” Wheeler rocked his chair another inch or two in her direction. “Would you care for something to drink? Water? Tea? Soda?” It was a classic bid for fingerprints and a saliva sample.
“Nah, I’m good,” Martha cooed. “On my way here, I guzzled down the tallest glass of sweet tea you’ve ever seen. Probably added five pounds in the process.” She patted her flat housekeeper’s belly.
For a woman in her fifties, she was as fit as they come, and well-dressed for a blue-collar worker.
She had on a grass-green sundress with pricey Birkenstock sandals that looked new.
Her fingernails sported red gel polish, a manicure that also hadn’t come cheap.
Someone had expertly blended blonde lowlights and highlights with ash tones to hide her salt-and-pepper roots; and her eyes were slightly upturned at the outer edges, suggesting she’d undergone a facelift in recent years.
“Clever dodge,” April murmured. It wasn’t Martha’s first rodeo. “She’s seen the inside of an interrogation room before. She knows the drill. Obtaining her DNA will require a little more persuasion.”
Gil nodded as he listened to her.
It wasn’t idle rambling on April’s part. Luke had invited her and Gil to the observation room to read and interpret the body language. Not only was it something April was good at, but it was something she enjoyed.
Luke did his part by being brusque and demanding. His burn scars added plenty of realism to the role of bad cop. Between Wheeler’s flirtatious empathy and questions Luke shot as fast as bullets, they soon had her in tears.
“She has my daughter,” she blubbered in a pitiful voice, dissolving like a fizzy bath bomb in a tub of warm water.
“Who?” Luke barked more loudly than necessary.
She flinched and turned to Wheeler for support. “I know how this works,” she sneered, “so you can drop the act. You want something from me, and I want something from you. How about we trade?”
April blinked. “The fizzy bath bomb has teeth!”
“What?” Gil gave her a puzzled look.
“Never mind.” She watched in fascination as the scene evolved.
Poor Martha Masterson seemed to think she’d negotiated some leverage with two experienced police interrogators. She was acting like she’d gained the upper hand and was now speaking from a position of strength.
Wheeler let her steep in the fantasy, sliding a tissue box her way. “Guilty as charged. I’m just doing my job, ma’am, and you’re just protecting your daughter.” He paused, looking puzzled. “Now that the game is over, do you want to be called Martha or Mrs. Masterson?”
The game was far from over. It was only beginning.
He was backpedaling to re-establish the veneer of good cop, but from a different angle.
This interview wasn’t about her and her record as a petty thief.
It was about learning everything she knew about the Haywood criminal empire.
She was the string they would tug until something bigger unraveled.
She was instantly sucked back in by Wheeler’s ever-shifting charm. “No one calls me Mrs. Masterson,” she sighed, snatching a tissue from the box and dabbing at her eyes. “I won’t let ‘em.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “It makes me feel old.”
Wheeler let her ramble, smirking at a few of her statements to encourage her to keep talking.
Mrs. Masterson was oblivious to the wealth of information she was voluntarily spewing. She scathingly referred to Callie Haywood as an old hag a few times, which April found fascinating.
“She can’t stand her employer.” And she wasn’t trying to hide it.
Gil pursed his lips. “She hasn’t said a word about Benjie and Verity Haywood.”
“Because that’s not who’s yanking her strings.
” Martha was Callie Haywood’s puppet. April was sure of it.
The more she listened to the woman, the more convinced she became that Martha Masterson was a very loyal puppet.
It soon became clear she’d been schooled on what to say if she got arrested.
She repeated the same phrases again and again, sticking to her carefully corroborated narrative.
Even the old hag insult sounded rehearsed to April’s ears after hearing it the sixth, seventh, and eighth times.
The resentment behind it, though, was real, along with the fear.
Controlling the housekeeper’s narrative felt like Callie Haywood’s way of thumbing her nose at the authorities from a distance. It was a reminder that she was in charge and her minions reported to her and her alone.
We’ll see about that.
“We need to stick to our A, B, Cs,” April advised in undertones to Gil.
“Follow the money. Martha’s gel nails, Birkenstocks, and facelift are big tells.
Callie has bought her loyalty. For now. But the concern Martha exhibited for Tiffany’s safety earlier was genuine.
Tiffany is her weak spot. That’s where we should amp up the pressure. ”
A few minutes later, Luke stormed out of the interrogation room, leaving Martha Masterson snickering as if she’d won the first round.
Wheeler pretended to receive a phone call. He stood, holding up a finger apologetically to Mrs. Masterson. “I’ll be right back,” he mouthed to her, and she nodded cheerfully.
Once she was alone, she blew her nose and fiddled with her manicure.
Every so often, she glanced at the door, as if expecting Wheeler’s return any second.
She still thought he was on her side. How could he not be?
Despite being fifteen to twenty years older than him, she was well-dressed and decently attractive.
He had smiled at her, offered her refreshments, and handed her a box of tissues. He was on her side, right?
Her glances at the door grew more frequent, and her agitation level rose. Her agitation bled into anger, as evidenced by her tightened lips and a tapping foot. When her anger waned, uncertainty set in.
“Let the wilting begin.” April took no joy in observing the changes in Martha.
Martha would soon realize she was on Luke and Wheeler’s turf.
She was living by their rules now. She’d try to convince herself otherwise, but logic would set it, reminding her that she was the one sitting in a room alone, waiting for the door to open.
“And so it begins,” Gil agreed. He got paged and left the room to take a call. When he returned, he was shaking his head. “I’ve just been informed that a local boutique owner is pressing charges against her for shoplifting.”
“Excellent!” It was some of the best news she’d heard all day. She was more than ready for the arrests to begin.
“Luke isn’t ready to break the news to Martha yet,” he clarified.
“They prefer to let her stew overnight. Tomorrow, they’re going to let the clock run out and let her think she’s about to be cut loose.
Then boom!” He clapped his hands for emphasis.
“Maximum shock and awe. She’ll never see it coming. ”
“You’re diabolical. All of you.” April stretched her back and let out a jaw-cracking yawn.
“Since she’s not going anywhere, I’m taking your advice and calling it an evening.
” She was hoping to borrow a line from Kaya’s playbook and carve out a necking session with Bear before bedtime. Her heart raced in anticipation.
Gil grinned at her. “It sure is fun watching you bloom.”
“Whatever.” She knew what he was talking about, but she’d never been good at talking about her feelings.
He tossed his keys into the air and caught them as he headed for the door.
“I’m happy for you, my friend. More than you realize.
Oh, and…” He stopped and turned around. “If you decide you’d like to continue observing interrogations, interpreting kinesics, and digging for hidden storm shelters, just let me know.
We’ve got an office with your name on it at Lonestar Security. ”
He left the room.
All she could do was stare after him, open-mouthed.
Kaya met April at the door of their suite, looking disheveled. “Ben just found out the deed to the dental clinic was transferred into his name, and he can’t reach his dad to find out what’s going on.” Her ponytail was messy and off-center, and she had a smudge of something on her cheek.
“May I?” April gestured at the smudge, stepping closer to wipe it off, but Kaya vigorously shook her head.
“It’s extra makeup,” she explained ruefully, “to cover up a dumb bruise that’s already turning colors. I was scrambling to pack an overnight bag and ran into a doorway.”
April glanced around their suite in puzzlement. “Where are you going?”