Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Ididn’t kill him, okay?”
Derek McDaniels sat across from Sam, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
His eyes darted nervously around Sam’s office, like a man looking for an exit.
The slight tremor in his voice wasn’t lost on Sam, who leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, keeping his expression neutral.
“Then I need to know where you were that day,” Sam said calmly. “The sooner you’re clear, the sooner we can figure out what really happened to your father.”
Derek swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to the window behind Sam’s desk, where the winter light filtered weakly through.
The room seemed to press in on him, his nerves stretched tight.
He shifted in his chair. “I told you, I was back home. At a bar. O’Malley’s Tavern.
I’m a regular there. I bet they have surveillance footage that can prove I was there. ”
Sam nodded slowly, watching Derek’s fidgety behavior. It wasn’t only the standard nervousness of being questioned about a murder—there was something deeper, a current of fear running beneath the surface. “We’ll look into that,” Sam replied.
Sam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Derek. “Your father ever talk about the bronze statue he kept?”
Derek blinked, his expression blank for a moment before recognition flickered. “Oh, that old thing? Yeah, he used to brag about it all the time. Said it was some big-deal piece of art. I always figured it was just one of those things old folks like to exaggerate about.”
Sam kept his tone casual, his gaze steady. “So you didn’t know it was worth a lot of money?”
Derek hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I guess. I never really thought about it. It’s just been there, you know?”
“Do you know where it is now?” Sam asked, his voice calm but probing.
Derek shrugged, trying to look indifferent. “Probably still in the house somewhere. On the mantel, maybe?”
Sam leaned forward, his voice low. “Afraid not. It’s missing. We think the killer took it.”
Derek’s eyes widened, his composure slipping for a second before he forced a nervous laugh. “Took it? Why would anyone want that thing?”
Sam didn’t blink. “Because it was the murder weapon.”
Derek paled visibly, his body stiffening. “The statue? You’re saying someone used it to...” He shuddered, shaking his head.
Sam studied him closely, watching every twitch, every shift in his expression. Derek was putting on a good act, no doubt about that. The question was, was it all an act? Could he really not know anything about the statue—or his father’s murder?
“I’m telling you, Chief,” Derek continued, his voice shaking just enough to seem authentic, “I had no idea about any of this.”
“Did you know your father was planning to change his will?”
Derek shook his head. “Not before this, no.”
Sam let the silence stretch, watching Derek closely. “He was going to leave the property to an environmental trust. Not to you and your sister.”
Derek’s jaw tightened, and Sam saw a flicker of anger in his eyes. “That’s what his lawyer said, but he never told me that.”
“Would that have made you angry?” Sam asked quietly. “To find out he wasn’t leaving you anything?”
Derek looked down at his hands, his leg bouncing under the desk. “I’m not gonna lie. It would’ve pissed me off. But I wouldn’t kill him over it, all right? If he wanted to leave everything to a bunch of tree huggers, that’s his business.”
Sam gave a slow nod then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Then why did you visit the town surveyor’s office?”
Derek’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“You were asking about maps of all your father’s land,” Sam continued, his gaze fixed on Derek. “Why?”
Derek blinked, shaking his head quickly. “I didn’t visit any surveyor’s office.”
Sam didn’t buy it. He leaned in, his voice dropping slightly. “Are you sure? Or was it something Beryl asked you to do?”
Derek’s leg bounced faster now, his eyes darting nervously to the door before he met Sam’s gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t ask anyone about maps.”
“I find that hard to believe, Derek. You’re scrambling for money, your father’s properties are valuable, and maybe Beryl offered you a way out. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t!” Derek snapped, his voice rising with panic. “I don’t know anything about maps or surveyors or whatever the heck you’re getting at.”
“Then help me understand,” Sam said, leaning forward, his tone sharp but measured. “Because I’ve got witnesses placing you here in town last week. And I know you met with Beryl Thorne after the funeral. So why don’t you explain what that meeting was about?”
Derek shifted in his chair, visibly uncomfortable. “She called and asked me to meet her at that construction site. She wanted to make an offer for that piece of land my father has on River Road.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched into his face. “And what did you say?”
“I told her I’d have to discuss it with my sister. We both own it together now.”
Sam leaned back, his expression unreadable, but his mind was already racing.
Was Derek telling the truth?
Why would Beryl be interested in that land? Beryl had ties to Convale through Victor Sorrentino. And then there was the envelope Beryl had given to Marnie. Marnie had taken that straight to Parker Studies.
Beryl was tangled in this mess, that much was certain.
Sam couldn’t shake the feeling she was orchestrating something, pulling strings from the shadows as she always did.
And Parker Studies—it was time to pay them a visit.
But first, he needed to verify the picture Jo sent to Clara Hartwell and have Reese check on Derek’s alibis.
Jo had asked Clara, but he needed to do it officially.
He made a mental note to head to the surveyor’s office after he was done here. For now, he needed to wrap this up.
Sam’s gaze locked back onto Derek. “All right, you can go.”
Derek blinked, surprised by the abrupt dismissal. “That’s it?”
“For now,” Sam said, standing. “But don’t get too comfortable. I’ll be checking your alibi. In the meantime, if you want to change your story, feel free to give me a call.”
Derek bristled, his face tightening with barely concealed anger. “I’m not changing anything because it’s the truth.” He stood quickly, grabbing his coat.
“Good,” Sam said, his tone cold. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
After Derek left, Sam watched the empty doorway for a long moment, his thoughts churning. Was Derek truly not involved? His reaction felt genuine, but Sam had seen plenty of liars put on convincing acts before.
He glanced at the clock and grabbed his jacket. First stop: Clara Hartwell’s office to confirm Jo’s photo. After that: Parker Studies. It was time to start untying the knots Beryl was trying to keep hidden.