Chapter 24
"She wouldn't take my calls,” Grant said. “I thought I would go over to the house and have a pleasant conversation with her. Explain my current financial situation and my desire to spend more time with my kids. I hoped that maybe she could be reasonable, and we could come to an arrangement.”
“I take it things didn't go the way you planned,” I said.
“No. Not at all. When I got there, she was dead. Just laying there in a pool of blood. The back door was ajar. I stepped inside the kitchen and rushed to her without thinking. Just a reflex. When you see someone hurt, you give aid. Even if it is your ex-wife who’s suing you for more money.”
My skeptical gaze persisted.
“I felt for a pulse, but she was long gone. She’d been stabbed so many times. The pumpkin was smashed on the tile. The blood,” he said, in a trance, recalling the horrible scene. “I remember the smell so vividly.”
“You expect me to believe this?”
“I swear. I’m telling you the truth. I was in the kitchen, and I panicked.
I heard the kids coming down the stairs, and I knew if they found me there, they’d think I killed their mother.
We’d gotten into some pretty brutal arguments in the past. They knew how contentious the divorce was, even though we tried to keep that aspect from them.
I just took off and ran. I hated that they were the ones to find their mother like that, but I just freaked. ”
I wasn’t sold.
“You gotta believe me!” he cried, fear soaking his eyes. “I must have stepped in some blood. I didn’t think about it. I’m not a killer. I don’t know how to plan these things out.”
“If this wasn’t premeditated, why was your phone off the grid?”
His face wrinkled. “My phone died.”
I took everything he said with a grain of salt. “Did you get any blood on your hands?”
“Not that I recall.”
I stared him down for a long moment.
He said nothing.
“That’s a pretty convenient story.”
“It’s the truth!”
A fluorescent light buzzed and flickered for an instant.
“Do you have a murder weapon?” Grant continued. “Do you have anything solid to prove I did this?”
“The bloody shoes look pretty bad. I’ve seen guys convicted on less.”
Grant swallowed hard.
“I’m not the one who did this. I think you’re overlooking the obvious.”
I squinted. “Obvious?”
"Carolyn. She hated Hannah. Hannah was always the one who got everything. She was better looking, more social, her life was easy. But the real drama started when their mother died.”
"How so?”
"Carolyn got cut out of the will. She had a falling out with their mother.
All of a sudden, Hannah shows up with a handwritten codicil, leaving everything to her.
Everything. As I'm sure you know, handwritten codicils are valid in this state if they are signed in the presence of two witnesses.
Wouldn't you know it, two of Hannah's friends happened to witness the codicil.” He shrugged.
"I don't know about you, but I find that a little suspicious.”
"How does Carolyn benefit from killing her sister?” I asked.
"Besides satisfaction?”
"She's not going to be too satisfied sitting in a jail cell for the rest of her life.”
"Carolyn contested the will. Obviously, the codicil was forged. I have no doubt Hannah went to great lengths to study her mother's handwriting. She'd been forging notes from her mother since high school.”
"Is that where you two met?”
Grant nodded, then leaned in with a grin.
"This is where it gets interesting. All of a sudden, Carolyn decides not to contest the will. Hannah promised up and down she would give some of the estate to Carolyn, but that was never going to happen. You tell me why Carolyn backed off. We’re talking a lot of money. Money that Carolyn needs.”
"Maybe she believed Hannah’s promises.”
"If so, why kill her?" Grant replied with a confident grin.
It didn't take long to come up with a reason. "Hannah had dirt on Carolyn.”
"Now you're cooking with gas," Grant said as he leaned back, feeling accomplished.
"What kind of dirt?”
"That's not my job to figure out. That's yours. You're the detective.”
"Seems like your life depends on it.”
"Seems like we both have a vested interest in seeing you succeed.”
We left the interrogation room after the interview and stepped into the hallway.
Sheriff Daniels joined us. "You buy any of his story?"
"It's worth looking into,” I said.
"Right now, that guy will say anything to save his ass.”
"Let me know when the DNA analysis comes back on those shoes of his. In the meantime, we’ll run down this lead.”
We left the station, and I called Isabella for another favor. I asked her to look into Carolyn's cell phone records. I hadn't even considered her initially.
After a few keystrokes and a couple minutes, Isabella had some interesting information.
“Carolyn’s phone is off the grid for about 30 minutes during the time frame of the murder.
It pops back up on Redfin Lane, heading away from Stingray Bay.
A call comes through from Hannah’s son, James.
Carolyn’s phone turns around and heads to Stingray Bay. ”
“She left the scene of the crime, then headed back,” I surmised.
“Could be. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence.”
“You’re the best.”
“I know.”
“While I’ve got you, can you search the online docket? See if there’s been any movement in Carolyn’s probate case.”
After a few more taps of the keys, Isabella said, “Looks like she filed a new petition yesterday. Her original petition was withdrawn.”
“That was quick.”
“Hannah’s not around anymore to fight it.”
“That’s starting to look like a motive,” Isabella said.
I thanked her again and ended the call.
Our next stop was to find Carolyn. She lived in the Tidewater Lofts on Gulf Breeze Way.
It was a rundown little complex with coral-colored buildings, dingy siding, and peeling white trim.
Each building had four units, two up, two down.
The parking lot was open, not gated. A few withered palm trees watched over the property.
It wasn't a bad place, but certainly not the nicest on the island.
Jack found a place to park, and we hopped out and strolled the concrete walkway that weaved through the buildings to D202.
We climbed the steps, and I put a heavy fist against the door.
Footsteps shuffled down the foyer a moment later.
The peephole flickered as someone peered through.
The deadbolt unlatched and Carolyn pulled open the door with surprised eyes.
They flicked between the two of us. Flustered, she said, "Deputies, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.
Have you broken any new leads in the case? ”
The TV in the living room echoed down the foyer. James and Emily argued about what to watch.
"We just have a few quick follow-up questions,” I said.
Carolyn squirmed, and her mouth grew dry. “I was just about to run some errands.”
I flashed a disarming smile. “It won’t take long.”
The kids kept fighting, voices growing louder.
Carolyn shouted down the foyer, exasperated. “James, Emily… If you can't agree on what to watch, I'll turn the TV off, and that’s the end of your privileges.”
They settled slightly.
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” I said.
“They’re really good kids. But they do what siblings do.”
“They’re stressed. They’ve been through a lot. Are you taking care of them alone?” I asked, fishing.
“For now. My husband is out of town on business.”
"It's a good thing you’re around to take care of them."
“Can you believe Grant did such a horrible thing? I guess it’s really not shocking, considering how abusive he always was.”
“Passionate relationships can often turn violent. Tell me about your falling out with Hannah.”
She froze, and her face went long.