Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Instead of using the key and letting herself in, she knocked. “Nell. It’s me. Open up.”
She noticed the curtains in the next room’s window ruffled, then fell still. Emma knocked again, softer this time. Considering the clientele this place likely attracted, Emma didn’t want a disgruntled guest coming after her.
After what felt like an hour with no response, she brought the key up to the slot. Before she could insert it, though, the door swung open. The dim lightbulb overhead revealed a pale and weary Nell wrapped in a bedspread instead of a robe.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice ragged from sleep. She brushed away her own question with a wave. “Never mind. I should’ve known you’d show up. I used your credit card.”
“Can I come in?”
Nell turned away, leaving the door open. She crossed the room, sat on the edge of the bed, and clicked on the lamp.
Emma entered and shut the door behind her.
She’d stayed in a few dive motels in her life, but this was hands down the worst. One double bed, a rickety-looking chair, and a battered dresser, on which sat a small television, were the only furnishings.
A door with a dent where someone apparently tried to kick it in opened to the bathroom.
What she didn’t see, though, was the wine bottle or the pills.
Emma dragged the chair closer to Nell and sat down. It immediately rocked to one side. Emma wasn’t sure if one leg was shorter or the floor was uneven, but she managed to shift her weight and maintain her balance. “Are you okay?”
A mournful smile flitted across Nell’s lips. “I’m alive.”
Emma bent toward her sister and touched her knee. “I’m glad.”
“I never intended to see you again, you know.”
Nell’s matter-of-fact tone choked Emma. “You bought wine and pills.”
Nell appeared surprised. “What’d you do? Follow me?”
“Yes. I’d follow you to the end of the earth if I had to.”
After a few long moments, Nell nodded. “I did buy that stuff. Not my beverage of choice, but that truck driver who picked me up refused to drop me at the state store.”
“Did you…” Emma’s throat closed, and she had to force the words out. “Did you drink it?”
“No, and don’t ask me what happened to it. Or the pills. I don’t have them anymore.”
Emma suspected her sister had used the booze and drugs to barter for something. What? A ride? A place to stay? Emma accepted Nell’s request not to ask, partly because she didn’t really want to know. “What are you doing in Akron?”
“I’m on my way back home, and this is as far as my ride would take me.”
“Back home? From where?” Emma asked, although she had a pretty good idea.
“Cleveland. I went to see Zeke’s brother Levi.”
“Why?”
“Because he saw Eric and me at the funeral.” Nell swiped a hand across her eyes. “Eric didn’t know we’d been spotted, but I did. Levi saw me in the back of the church. No one has ever looked at me with that much hate before, but I had to get him to admit to seeing us there. To give Eric an alibi.”
Emma had so many questions she wanted to ask, but she remained still, giving Nell time.
“I found out where he lived and went there.” She shook her head. “That was a mistake.”
“What happened?”
“He threatened to kill me if I ever came near him or his family again. Said I was responsible for Zeke’s death, and given half a chance, he’d make me pay.
” Nell blinked away tears. “I wanted to get him to admit we were there and tell the police. I have to make sure Eric is okay before…” Nell’s voice trailed off.
Emma fought tears of her own and filled in the blank. “Before you get more pills and booze to wash them down.”
Nell met her gaze. “As a matter of fact, no.” She looked away. “Okay, yes, that was my plan originally. I was sick of who I was. Sick of the world I was stuck living in. Sick of being alone.”
Emma opened her mouth to argue, but Nell silenced her with a stern look.
“I know what you’re going to say. I’m not alone. I have you.”
“You do,” Emma said firmly.
“But you can’t fix me.” Nell tapped the side of her head with one finger. “Only I can fix me.”
Emma studied her sister, wondering if Nell meant what Emma thought she did.
“I’m not going to kill myself.” Nell lifted her chin. “As soon as I find an alibi for Eric, I’m going to check myself back into rehab.”
* * *
Matthias leaned against the dump truck the guy had been working on earlier.
He had a clear view of the local police car idling on the construction site’s road, emergency lights sending sweeping blue and red beacons like a ground-level lighthouse, slicing through the night.
Officer Havelka, who now sat in his cruiser illuminated by the dome light, had taken Matthias’s license and police credentials after listening to his story of doing some unauthorized investigating.
He figured the truth was the best choice and hoped he’d get some leniency for being a fellow brother in blue.
However, with each passing minute the officer sat in his car, running Matthias’s information and speaking with God-knows-who on his phone, Matthias grew more uneasy.
He’d been told to “sit” and “stay” as though he was a K9 instead of a police detective. After checking his watch for the umpteenth time, he considered storming over to the car and asking what the hell was going on.
The rumble of a diesel engine entered his consciousness, and headlights appeared on the road leading to the construction site. Matthias watched as a pickup approached, slowed, pulled in, and parked behind the cruiser.
Patrick Winslow stepped out.
Matthias swore. After trying to chase the guy down for the last few days, all it took was Matthias getting busted for trespassing to have him show up. He pushed off the dump and strode toward him.
Havelka exited his vehicle and was speaking in low tones with Winslow when Matthias drew near. The officer cut off the conversation and turned to him. “I told you to stay over there.”
“I have been. For the last…” He again checked his watch. “… fifteen minutes. Surely you’ve had time to confirm I’m who I said I was.”
“I have,” Havelka said. “You are indeed an Erie City detective, which means you’re nothing more than a civilian here. I want you to wait for me over there.” He pointed his pen toward the dump truck.
Matthias didn’t move except to shift his gaze to Winslow. “I’ve been trying to track you down. I need to speak with you.”
Any response Winslow might have tried to make was cut off by another vehicle’s arrival.
Matthias turned to see a now-familiar unmarked sedan pull up next to the pickup.
Fergusson and Lukan stepped out, dressed in jeans and jackets, looking less like state police investigators and more like two guys who’d been roused from bed in the middle of the night.
Fergusson marched up to Matthias, glaring. “Why can’t you just go back to Erie and let us do our jobs? In the daylight.”
Matthias lowered his voice so only Fergusson heard it. “Why don’t you work the case so I don’t have to?”
A muscle in the trooper’s jaw twitched. “You have no idea what we’ve been doing.”
“Then tell me.”
“Go wait by the dump truck, Honeywell. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
Matthias studied each man in turn. Fergusson. Winslow. Havelka. And Lukan. None of them showed any signs of saying one more word in his presence. With a guttural growl, he pivoted and headed back to the dump.
Behind him, he heard Fergusson say, “Sorry you had to come out tonight, Mr. Winslow. We have everything under control now. You can go.”
Matthias wheeled, clenching his jaw to keep from shouting, “No!” After three days of just missing Winslow, here he was, and Fergusson was dismissing him before letting Matthias say one word to the man.
Fergusson must’ve been reading his mind, because he fixed Matthias with a look that spoke loud and clear. Make one move, and I’ll arrest you for…
Fill in the blank. Trespassing, obstructing a police investigation, destruction of property. The last one was debatable since it would take less than a minute to nail the plywood back over the window.
Winslow trudged to his pickup and drove off.
As Matthias watched, Fergusson had a conversation with the officer, who handed something to the trooper before also getting into his car and leaving the construction site.
Fergusson sauntered over to Matthias and held out his driver’s license and badge wallet. “Here you go, Honeywell.”
Matthias accepted and pocketed his credentials.
“Care to explain what you’re doing here in the middle of the night?”
“Looking for building supplies,” Matthias replied. “Specifically, glass panels.”
“You thought you might find some here?” Fergusson chuckled. “If you wanted to do some home remodeling, I’d suggest visiting a lumber yard.”
Matthias glared at him.
Fergusson’s smirk faded to a scowl. “You really think so little of me as to believe I haven’t already searched the entire property, inside and out? Well, I have. We found nothing matching the glass shard that killed Jones.”
Matthias knew better than to admit Fergusson was right. “How the hell did the police find out I was here?”
Fergusson aimed a finger at the dusk-to-dawn light.
Matthias looked up, assuming he meant someone had spotted him despite his best efforts to stick to the shadows. Instead, he noticed a small globe that he’d missed before. “Security cameras?”
“Yep.” Fergusson planted his hands on his hips.
“They had some problems with kids coming onto the property and spraying graffiti inside the houses, so Jones had security cams installed. The kids must’ve spotted the cameras inside the houses, because they changed their mode of vandalism to disabling the heavy equipment. ”
“The dump truck.” Matthias placed a hand on the vehicle. “I saw men working on it earlier today.”
Fergusson glanced at his watch. “You mean yesterday. And not only the truck. The backhoe, too. Winslow called and reported the vandalism on Monday. He had the exterior cameras installed the same day. The security company contacted dispatch the moment you stepped foot on the property.”
Matthias exhaled a groan.
Fergusson clapped him on the shoulder. “Good thing you made the career choice you did. You’re a better cop than a criminal.”
The admission made Matthias leery, but he decided to take advantage. “Does that mean you’d be willing to give me an update on the case?”
“Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t, the next time I find evidence—like a muddy shovel—I won’t report it.”
Fergusson chuckled. “Sure you will. You have that hero complex going on.”
Matthias glared at him.
“What the hell.” Fergusson shrugged. “We interviewed Jones’s attorney and got a copy of his Will and the business agreement stating his wishes for North Star Developing in the case of his death.”
Matthias straightened. “Oh?”
“The Will was pretty cut and dry. The house and all his personal property is split between his wife and their daughter, the daughter’s portion being held in trust with the wife as executor.
That much has remained unchanged since Jones had the Will written up shortly after the birth of the little girl.
The business agreement, however, is more interesting. ”
Matthias waited.
“Up until two weeks ago, Tina Neidermeyer was to take over the business upon Jones’s death.”
“What happened two weeks ago?”
“Jones met with the attorney and had Tina removed, replacing her with Patrick Winslow.”
Matthias’s gaze slid in the direction where Winslow’s pickup had disappeared.
“I know you want to talk to him. Don’t. He’s my top pick as Jones’s killer right now, but I don’t want him to know that and get spooked.”
“Follow the money,” Matthias said under his breath.
“Yep, and it goes beyond him being the new head honcho at North Star.” Fergusson’s lips curled in a vicious grin. “The attorney also told us that Jones had contacted him and wanted to make another change to the business agreement. He’d decided to bump Winslow for someone else.”
“Who?”
“Jones didn’t tell him over the phone. Just made an appointment for Monday morning.”
“Except Jones was killed Saturday night.”
“Convenient timing for Winslow.”
Matthias continued to stare into the night. “Man, I’d love to know who Jones intended to name as his successor.”
“So would I, but with Jones gone, we’ll never know.”
“He must’ve told someone.”
Fergusson shook his head. “If he did, it wasn’t his wife. We asked her, but she had no clue. Says he never discussed business with her.”
“She told me the same thing.” Matthias brought his gaze back to the trooper. “Speaking of the widow, what do you think about her?”
“I think she’s as shattered as whatever killed her husband.”
“You don’t think she had anything to do with it?”
Fergusson gave the question some thought. “If Ashley Jones is guilty, she’s a damn fine actress. On the other hand, I am concerned about her well-being. She’s grieving, sure, but I’m pretty sure she’s got health issues.”
“Emma and I thought she might be using.”
“Drugs? It’s possible. For the sake of the little girl, I sure hope not.” Fergusson stretched, producing a series of pops and a groan. He gestured in the general direction of where Matthias had left his Jeep. “I saw your car parked down the road a ways. Do you want us to give you a lift?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“Then get out of here and do us both a favor. Leave the investigation alone.”
Matthias touched his forehead in a mock salute before walking away. He noticed that Fergusson waited until he was well off the property before leaving. Back in the Jeep, Matthias checked his phone and realized he’d missed a call from Cassie. He tapped the call icon.
“It’s about time you got back to me. Where’ve you been?”
“Don’t ask,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“Denene and I are sitting in the motel parking lot while Emma’s in the room talking to her sister.”
“Nell’s there?”
“Yep. I don’t know her condition, although I take the fact that Emma hasn’t called for an ambulance as a good sign.”
“Agreed. Thanks for letting me know.”
“How’s the money trail going?”
“Considering I just got busted by the local cops for trespassing, it’s better I leave you out of it.”
“Too late.”
Her tone set him on edge. “Why?”
“You asked me to look into the criminal history of some of your suspects, especially where motor vehicle theft was concerned.”
“Yeah. And?”
“Roth called me with a hit. It’s a twenty-year-old case.”
“Who?” Matthias demanded.
“Patrick Winslow.”