34. Colton
“Jim at Ravenly Daughters said you brought in a truck bearing the description of the vehicle recently discovered on your property. You know, the one Lydia Armstrong was mowed down in?”
Though I admit I’ve been waiting for this second interview since I was released from custody, I’m calm as I answer Terry’s question. “I wasn’t behind the wheel.”
“See, it’s looking less like vehicular manslaughter and more like first-degree murder, Colton,” the sergeant muses, his gaze flickering between me and Marc Robard.
“I had no reason to kill her.”
“Those poison pen letters say otherwise. Plus, there were prints on the steering wheel?—”
I snort. “Where else would they be? But I can tell you who they don’t belong to—me. As the forensics proved or you’d have arrested me by now.”
His eyes narrow. “Know what was in there?” When I don’t answer, he drawls, “One of Lydia’s little love notes to y’all, and when I say y’all, I mean it. Juliette, this time?—”
“Make up your mind, Terry. Who’s behind this? Me or Juliette? Anyway, you can’t seriously think Juliette McAllister is a murderer. She hasn’t driven a truck in the last thirty-five years!”
“She was seen in town that same day.” Terry drums his fingers on the table. “As were the triplets, though their alibi is solid. You, of course, were with your wife. Weren’t you?”
There’s a flicker in his expression that tells me he doesn’t believe Zee and that, more than anything, riles up my temper.
I’m so goddamn sick of people not having faith in her word.
Sure, she lied this time, but hell, whenever she’s spoken the truth, the folks of Pigeon Creek never believed her anyway.
“Where are you taking this interview, sergeant?” Marc intones, seemingly bored by Terry’s weak interrogation skills. “My client is a busy man and you’ve brought him into the RCMP detachment for questioning.
“No arrest has been made, ergo this is a waste of his time. As you said, his wife provided Mr. Korhonen with an alibi. He was not behind the wheel on the day of the road accident which the forensics attests to?—”
“Mr. Korhonen,” Terry bites back, “failed to disclose that he was aware the McAllister triplets owned the truck dumped on his land. Did you take it to Ravenly Daughters, Colton?”
“You do not have to answer that,” Marc slots in before I can answer.
Terry sneers as he slaps a sheet of paper on the table.
As Marc reads it, I murmur, “The truck was in need of repair. I didn’t know that it was ready to be driven. As far as I was aware, the serpentine belt was still screwed. One of the triplets used deodorant on it to stop it from squeaking.”
“Why hide that from us?”
“I wasn’t hiding anything.”
“If that’s all, sergeant, I don’t believe Mr. Korhonen can further your inquiries?—”
“I’ll be the one who decides that,” Terry snaps, glaring at him before it softens into a scowl. When he shuts off the recording, Marc makes to protest but I stall him. “If you have any information on which triplet did this, Colton, you should share it with me now.”
“They’re innocent. Just like I am.”
Talk about pissing in the wind.
“Evidence says otherwise.”
“There’s no evidence. It was their truck. That’s it. I don’t even want to know what kind of DNA is in that cab,” I mutter. “We all have alibis. And if you ask around, I bet Juliette does too because everyone takes notice of where that ticking time bomb is.”
“She was also being blackmailed by Lydia. That’s more probable cause. Maybe this was a family affair?”
I keep my expression blank. “Wonder who else she’d set her sights on. You should look for more of her victims before you accuse innocent folks of mowing her down?—”
“Innocent folks who were seen using that truck!”
“I never got behind the wheel. I was only there as their tow and to put a payment down,” I bite off.
“This is getting us nowhere, gentlemen,” Marc interrupts. “Sergeant, you have no grounds for arrest. You’re merely wasting my client’s time.”
My lips twitch at Terry’s disgusted look. “You’re the one who told me to bring a lawyer.”
“I didn’t mean to get an asshole,” he grumbles.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” is Marc’s retort. “Are we done here?”
Terry sniffs. “We are.”
“In the future, I’d appreciate it if you deal directly with me. Here’s my card.”
When we’re out of the station, Marc pulls me aside as we walk to our vehicles. “While the forensics show your DNA wasn’t in the cab, an unidentified sample was found on the wheel.”
“Must be Clyde.”
“Who’s Juliette?”
“The McAllister matriarch. Her prints would be in the cab because the triplets ferry her around in it when they’re not in school. Anyway, Juliette’s not the type to run someone over. She’s more likely to shoot someone in the face with a shotgun.”
Marc grunts. “Unless an eyewitness comes forward, they can’t put you behind the wheel.”
“Seeing as I didn’t do it, we’re fine and dandy.”
“I’m not saying you did. Just saying that if an eyewitness puts you in the cab?—”
“I. Didn’t. Do. It.”
“Fine.” He pinches my shoulder. “Hopefully, the next time we talk, it won’t be to visit the station.”
My lips twist. “We live in hope.”
As we part ways, I jump into the cab and start for home.
On a hunch, I call Juliette. “Why were you in town the day Lydia was killed?”
“Is it a crime to pick up some butter tarts for the boys?”
Relief swarms me. “You were with Harry?”
“Yes. Unfortunately. And I stopped in at The Coffee Shop too.” She sniffs. “Am I being interrogated for a reason?”
“I was just hauled in for questioning again.”
“That you’re harassing me tells me you were allowed to leave.”
“Only because I have an alibi,” I grind out. “Did you see anything that day? If you were on Main Street, you might have noticed?—”
“I wouldn’t worry, Colton. Reilly is a moron. He’s wasting valuable time looking in the wrong direction. Anyone with eyes can see you’ve been targeted.” She huffs. “I never did like him or that father of his. His grandfather was just as much of an idiot too. At least the inspector’s from Montreal. Reilly’s corrupt as all get out.”
“He knows you were being blackmailed.”
“I’m sure he does. But what he doesn’t know, boy, is however many others that bitch was skimming cash from.”
“What made you pay her?”
“Can’t control many things but I wanted to control that.”
“Reilly said he found a letter in the truck.”
“Damn, that means the triplets knew…” She sighs, sounding every one of her years.
“What did she have on you?”
“That’s McAllister business,” she growls. “Now, if you think I’m going to waste more oxygen on this conversation, you’re wrong. These are minutes I’ll never get back, I’ll have you know.”
And with that, she cuts the call.
Shaking my head as I continue the drive home, I can’t stop myself from grinning.
She might be the wicked witch of Pigeon Creek, but there’s no denying the impressiveness of her bark.