CHAPTER FIFTEEN
C HAPTER F IFTEEN
Matt scanned the sheriff’s station lot. It was empty except for patrol cars.
Inside the back door, Bree called for Zucco, who was working at a cubicle in the squad room. “Settle Claire in an interview room.” Stepping away from Claire, she lowered her voice. “Do not let her see inside the conference room.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Zucco gestured for Claire to follow her. “Are you hungry?”
They disappeared down the hallway.
“Conference room in ten minutes,” Bree said, walking toward her office.
Matt grabbed coffee in the break room, then called the director of the zoo, who promised to send someone to pick up the wolf pup. They’d assess it and do their best to place it. Matt thanked him, called Cady, and updated her.
He carried his coffee into the conference room a few minutes later. Bree arrived, clutching her own steaming mug. She closed the door firmly behind her.
Todd was studying his laptop.
“Where are we?” Bree asked, plopping into a chair and holding her coffee with both hands.
Todd scrolled through his notes. “Phone and financial records for the Masons are in. I’ll start reviewing those today. We’re almost done with the neighborhood canvass. There are still a couple homes where residents weren’t home.”
“Any luck discovering the name of the housecleaning company?” Matt asked.
“No,” Todd said. “And so far, no one except for Mrs. Haverford saw anything remarkable. We ran the plate number she wrote down.” He pulled a printed photo from the file at his elbow. “The vehicle she photographed was a Ford Explorer in a dark color. The lighting isn’t optimal, but it seems to be dark blue or black. The body style, grille, and headlights match the models built between 2011 and 2019. The license plate she gave us belongs to a gray 2020 Ford Explorer registered to Gloria Klein from Scarlet Falls.”
“Gray and black could be confused if the gray is a darker shade. How different are the models?” Bree asked.
Todd spun his computer to show photos of two vehicles side by side.
Matt compared them to the photograph Mrs. Haverford had taken. “The shape of the grille of the vehicle parked in front of the Masons’ home definitely seems to be a model from the 2011 to 2019 body style.”
“We’ll have to drive over and talk to her.” Matt preferred to see the owner, vehicle, and license plate with his own eyes anyway. It was too easy to lie over the phone.
He wrote a note next to the pinned photo: License plate discrepancy?
Bree set down her mug with a thunk . “Claire said the man who chased her was driving an SUV, but she didn’t know what kind.”
They all went silent for a few seconds.
“Gloria Klein is seventy-four years old,” Todd said.
Another few heartbeats of silence ticked by.
Matt had trouble picturing a seventy-four-year-old woman committing a brutal double murder, but he’d seen stranger things. “Doesn’t take strength to pull a trigger.”
Bree stood. “Someone else could have used her car. A neighbor, a son or grandson ...”
Matt underlined the words dark - colored Ford Explorer . He capped the dry-erase marker and set it on the ledge. “Let’s go find out if Gloria Klein is or knows our killer.”
On the way out of the station, Bree stopped to speak with Zucco. “Pull photos of the crime scene. If Claire is OK, have her look through them to see if anything is missing from the house. Make sure none of the pictures include the bodies or blood. I won’t subject Claire to the sight of her dead parents again. It’ll be bad enough if the case eventually goes to trial. She’ll have to relive the whole trauma.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Zucco said.
“Also, my brother is coming over to help her recall the tattoo she saw on the man who chased her. If I’m not back, I’d like you to supervise.”
Twenty minutes later, Matt was in the passenger seat of Bree’s SUV, checking Gloria Klein’s motor vehicle records. “Last year, Ms. Klein received two tickets for impeding the flow of traffic.” He glanced at Bree. “She was driving twenty-two miles an hour on the highway.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Yeah. She has no other violations on her driving record and no criminal record. Her house is registered solely in her name. She’s on Facebook but no other social media. No husband mentioned anywhere. She posts about her grandchildren, but the only photos on her profile are pics of her cat.”
“Well, here we are. Let’s ask her.” Bree pulled into an over-fifty-five development of tiny cookie-cutter townhomes. The neighborhood looked well kept but wasn’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination. Parking was in a communal lot. The numbered space in front of Ms. Klein’s unit was empty.
Matt scanned the lampposts. “I don’t see any security cameras.”
Bree reported their location to dispatch and returned the radio mic to its holder. “Do you see a gray Ford Explorer?”
“No.” He climbed out of the vehicle.
They walked to the front door of Ms. Klein’s unit and knocked.
“No doorbell camera,” Matt noted.
The door opened a crack. Through the four-inch gap allowed by the security chain, one rheumy eye took stock of them. “What do you want?”
“Gloria Klein?” Bree asked.
“Yeah.” Ms. Klein sounded suspicious.
Bree introduced them. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“How do I know you are who you say you are?”
Bree presented her badge, stepped aside, and waved at the official SUV behind them.
From behind the door, Ms. Klein scoffed at the badge, then looked over Bree’s shoulder. “I guess the SUV looks legit.”
Bree turned up both palms.
The chain scraped on the other side of the door, and it opened.
“You can come in.” Ms. Klein stepped back and waved them inside. She was a tall, thin woman with white hair scraped back in a tight ponytail. Despite the blistering heat, she wore a sweater—and an eye patch. Her one good eye squinted at them. A tabby cat the size of a potbellied pig ignored them from a bed on the windowsill.
Expecting air-conditioning, Matt was disappointed that the house was approximately ninety degrees inside.
“Sorry about the suspicion. I read a news report about burglars pretending to be the police. Can’t be too careful.” Ms. Klein led them back to a tiny kitchen. “There’s tea.”
“No, ma’am, but thank you for the offer.” Bree stepped aside so Matt could enter the room.
“Please sit down.” Ms. Klein sat at a tiny round glass table. “I had cataract surgery yesterday, and I’m still a little tired.”
Bree and Matt dropped obediently into chairs.
Ms. Klein wrapped her hands around a mug. A tea bag string and tag dangled along the side of the cup. “Now, what brings the sheriff to my door?”
“You own a gray Ford Explorer?” Bree asked.
“Yes.” Ms. Klein nodded.
Bree folded her hands. “Where is the vehicle currently?”
“Why?” Ms. Klein asked.
“We have reason to believe the vehicle could have been at a crime scene Monday night.”
Ms. Klein shook her head. “Well, that’s not possible.”
“If you haven’t driven it, is there someone else who might have?” Bree asked.
“No. It’s at the shop. I backed into a mailbox.” She flushed with embarrassment, then tapped her temple next to her eye patch and shook her head. “This cataract got bad really fast.”
“How long has the vehicle been in the shop?” Bree asked.
Ms. Klein reached for a paper calendar. “I dropped it off last Thursday.”
Bree frowned. “Do you have a receipt?”
“I have an estimate. It’s dated.” Ms. Klein reached behind her and opened a drawer. She pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Bree.
Matt looked over Bree’s shoulder to read the estimate for body repair on a Ford Explorer.
“May I take a picture of this?” Bree asked.
“You can make a copy if you want.” Ms. Klein pointed to the doorway. “There’s a printer in my home office. Help yourself.”
Matt took the paper to a cramped home office and made a copy on the printer/scanner/copier.
He heard Bree’s voice from across the hall. “Do you have a photo of the vehicle?”
“I have dozens of photos and a video,” Ms. Klein said. “The body shop recorded the damage thoroughly before they gave me an estimate.”
Matt returned to the kitchen. Bree and Ms. Klein were bent over the woman’s phone. Bree looked up. “Would you email me one of those photos?” She set her business card on the table.
“Of course.” Ms. Klein tapped her phone screen with her thumbs with the speed of a teenager. “Done. Whoever said they saw my vehicle clearly got it wrong.”
Bree said, “Thank you for your time.”
They left the stifling town house. Matt pulled at the collar of his polo shirt, letting the fresh air hit his sweaty skin. “Body shop next?”
“Yes. We can swing by on our way back.” Bree started the engine. “Would you compare the photos of Ms. Klein’s Explorer to the one Mrs. Haverford took on the Masons’ street? Is it the same vehicle?”
“Hard to say. Maybe. The color of Ms. Klein’s vehicle is a dark gray metallic. The lighting in Mrs. Haverford’s photo isn’t great, so the color and details are hard to see.”
Matt plugged the address from the auto body receipt into the GPS. They drove down a long country road and passed the turnoff for the Grey Lake public boat ramp and park. A mile later, Bree turned onto Bolton Road. They passed an orchard and farm that looked abandoned, then drove another mile to Like New Auto Body Repair. They went into the office. An employee in navy-blue coveralls approached the counter—Calvin, according to his name tag—and eyed Bree’s uniform. He was in his late twenties, skinny, with the pale, pale skin of someone who never went outside. Sweat broke out on his pasty forehead.
Suspicion rippled along the back of Matt’s neck.
Bree introduced them and asked for the manager. Calvin wasted no time rushing into the back. When the manager emerged, Matt noted Calvin was not with him.
The manager was a heavyset man in his fifties. “I’m Stan Padilla. Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for a vehicle.” Bree gave him the details.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Ms. Klein’s Explorer. We pulled a few dents for her and replaced a taillight lens.”
“You’ve fixed it already?” Bree asked.
Stan shrugged. “We didn’t even need to repaint. We’re waiting for Ms. Klein to pick up her vehicle. Can I ask what the problem is?”
“We’re following up on a case,” Bree said in a casual voice. “I like to cross all my t’s.”
Matt wandered to the window and glanced outside. Calvin was getting into an old white Ford Fusion. He’d removed his coveralls. Matt tried to get a look at his biceps, but Calvin slipped into the car too quickly. Matt couldn’t see his left arm. He made a note of the license plate as the guy drove out of the parking lot. When Matt turned around, Bree was asking Stan when the work on Ms. Klein’s Explorer had been finished.
“Friday.” Stan shrugged. “Like I said, it didn’t take long. The damage was minor.”
“We’d like to see the vehicle,” Bree said.
“OK.” Stan used an I don’t have time for this tone. “It’s out back.” He led them down a narrow hallway and out the back door. Eight-feet-tall chain-link fencing surrounded a small parking area. A dark-gray metallic Ford Explorer was parked at the back. Bree photographed the vehicle. Matt walked a circle around it. Both license plates were attached.
“Do you have security cameras on this lot?” Bree asked.
“Normally, we do.” Stan pointed to a camera mounted on the back of the building. “But we’re having issues with the battery. The company is coming to install a solar charger tomorrow.”
Bree stared up at it. “Do you have feed for the past weekend?”
Stan shook his head. “No. Sorry. We keep the gate locked.” He motioned toward a large double gate secured by a thick chain and heavy-duty padlock. “I’ve worked here for eleven years, and we’ve never had a problem with theft or vandalism.”
“Thank you for your time.” Bree turned and led the way back through the office to the front door. “Where did Calvin go?”
Stan frowned. “Lunch.”
“Little early, isn’t it?” Matt asked.
“He was hungry.” Stan didn’t blink.
Matt and Bree left the office. Back in the vehicle, she turned to Matt. “Did you get Calvin’s plate?”
“You know it.” Matt used the dashboard computer. “Stan Padilla has no criminal record and nothing more than a parking ticket on his license.”
“What about Calvin?”
“Calvin Wakefield is twenty-seven years old. Six years ago, he did three months in the county jail for petit larceny and vandalism.”
“That’s it?” Bree asked.
“Yes.”
“Hm. He would have been twenty-one.” She stared out the window for a second. “Should we talk to him?”
“Can’t hurt. Without surveillance video, we don’t know if the vehicle and/or its license were actually at the shop Monday night.” Matt sensed Calvin wasn’t coming back while they were parked in the lot. He pulled out his phone and opened his map app. “The only food nearby is a Burger King a mile down the road. It’s the same direction Calvin drove off.”
Bree backed out of the space and drove toward the Burger King. “Let’s see if he’s there.”
Two minutes later, Matt scanned the parking lot and spotted Calvin’s Fusion near the door. “There’s his car.”
Bree parked behind a van, where Calvin wouldn’t see the sheriff’s vehicle. Then they went inside. Calvin sat in a booth, scrolling on his phone. The sleeves of his T-shirt clearly showed his tattoo-free biceps. The tray in front of him held an empty food wrapper. He tapped on his phone, then stood.
“Hey, Calvin.” Matt slid into the booth next to Calvin, forcing him to scoot over.
“Hey!” Calvin protested, his butt dropping back to the vinyl bench.
Bree took the spot across from him. “We wanted to ask you a couple more questions.”
Calvin looked like he was going to barf up his meal as he turned his phone face down.
“Did Stan text you to tell you we left?” Matt guessed.
Calvin paled. “What do you want?” He was making a clear effort to calm himself, but his voice was a little too high.
“Was Ms. Klein’s car at the shop Monday night?” Matt rested one elbow on the table and twisted sideways to face him.
“Yeah.” Calvin cleared his throat. “I mean, yes.”
Bree leaned both forearms on the table. “What about the license plates from her vehicle? Were they at the shop Monday night?”
Calvin’s brows furrowed. “Uh, yeah?”
“Are you sure?” Matt pressed.
Calvin looked confused. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“We know about your record,” Bree said.
He went from pale to ashen. “Whatever you think I did, I didn’t do it.”
“Why did you go to jail for three months for petit larceny and vandalism?” Matt asked.
Calvin’s eyes went moist. “I stole a pig.”
“A pig?” Bree repeated, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Yeah.” Calvin sighed hard. “It was a stupid prank. Me and my buddy were drinking beer one night. Eddy was bitching about his stepdad. Guy’s a total douche.” His gaze darted to Bree. “Sorry.”
Bree nodded in acceptance of the apology and rolled a hand in the air, signaling for him to continue.
“He had this old Camaro he was restoring. Eddy accidentally scratched it walking through the garage, and his stepdad kicked him out of the house. We thought it would be funny to put a pig in the garage with the Camaro.”
A true hold my beer moment.
Calvin continued. “But the pig did a bunch of damage to the garage and the car, and Eddy’s stepdad pressed charges.” His gaze locked on Bree’s. “Eddy’s stepdad was a deputy.”
Bree sat back. “Did he send Eddy to jail too?”
Calvin nodded.
“What’s Eddy’s stepdad’s name?” Bree asked.
Calvin reared back. “No. I don’t want to get him involved. I can’t get into trouble again. The lawyer said in a couple of years, I can get this record sealed if I don’t get in any more trouble.” His eyes went wild. A vein in his neck throbbed. “I won’t go back to jail. Not ever. I’ll kill myself first.”
Matt didn’t want to think about what had happened to Calvin in jail.
“OK.” Bree held up both hands, palms out. “It’s OK. I understand. I wasn’t sheriff then. I wasn’t involved.”
Calvin exhaled, but he still looked like he was going to lose his lunch.
Matt thought about Stan, clearly looking out for Calvin. “Stan knows about it?”
“Yeah. He’s my uncle,” Calvin admitted. “He paid the lawyer, but he couldn’t keep me out of jail. Eddy’s stepdad wanted to make us pay.”
Dick.
“I’m glad you have someone on your side.” Bree stood. “Thanks for talking to us.”
They slid out of the booth. Calvin dumped his trash and hurried out of the restaurant.
“Well, I feel shitty in a hundred ways,” Bree said.
“Same.” Matt held the door for her.
In the SUV, he dug deeper into Calvin’s record. “Looks like the arresting deputy was Schneider. I knew him. Calvin’s right. He was a total ass.”
“He left the department when I was appointed sheriff.” Bree headed for the station.
“Knowing Schneider, he didn’t want to work for a female sheriff. He wanted to stay in the good-old-boy club.”
Bree gave him a Look. “Good riddance to him then. I assumed I was better off without anyone who quit because I was appointed to the job.”
Matt snorted. “You would have fired his ass within a month.”
Bree earned the respect she had garnered with her deputies. She did the job with honesty and compassion, but she also didn’t take any shit from anyone. People often confused kindness with weakness, which was foolish. In her job, it could be easier to not care. Being kind often took more effort.
“Now what?” Matt asked.
Bree stepped on the gas. “I’m not ruling Calvin out completely. He had access to the vehicle. He could have borrowed it or simply used the license plates. But the auto shop has other employees too. For that matter, anyone could have scaled that fence and borrowed those plates. Or Mrs. Haverford wrote down the numbers wrong. We should continue to look for another connection between Calvin or the auto body shop and the Masons.”
“Calvin doesn’t have a tattoo. He isn’t the man who chased Claire and shot at us.”
“Agreed, but he’s still on the list as a potential accomplice, but he’ll go at the bottom of the list.”
“We have two dead people, and it seems our teenage witness could be the next target.”