Chapter 46
Emery
The Bale House is still quiet as the servers flitter about, ensuring the tables are set for the coming rush while catering to early lunch customers.
“Hey, boss.” Matt pauses what he’s doing at the computer to flash me one of his boyish smiles, his eyes grazing my uniform. “You want a menu?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I settle onto a barstool, scanning the daily specials. “Actually, you know what? I’ll just get a club sandwich. To go.”
“Comin’ right up.” He punches the order in, comping it under his management code like he always does for me and then grabs a glass and fills it with soda. “So? How’s it goin’ these days? You look tired.”
“Didn’t get much sleep.”
“Yeah, I imagine it’s busy around your station.” He hesitates. “Word is they’re eyeing one of the Barrows for Holly?”
I check the bar. “Is Stan Malkovich here?”
“People love to talk to the bartender.” He sets the drink in front of me. “If it’s true, that’s crazy.”
I hum with agreement through a sip, schooling my expression as best I can.
“You think he actually did it?” Matt asks casually, lifting the napkin dispenser to check its fullness.
“We’ll know soon enough. They’re testing the DNA they found on her.”
“Will they find all that much, though? I mean, after being in the water for however long.”
“A frozen lake slows decomposition right down. Like, for example, if her attacker had intercourse with her and didn’t use a condom, we’ll have his DNA profile very soon.” Or soon enough, anyway. I’m doing my best to keep a smooth, friendly expression. Inside, though, I’m seething.
Schmidt and Terry stroll in then.
Matt’s attention homes in on them instantly. “Wherever you two want, fellas.”
“This looks comfy.” Terry takes a stool two over from me, nodding. “Hey, McAllister. What’s good here?”
“Can’t go wrong with the club,” I say as Matt slides two menus over before busying himself with unloading a rack of clean glasses.
“I don’t know. I’m feeling like something I can really sink my teeth into, you know?”
“Burger?” Matt suggests. “Ours are the best around these parts.”
“That sounds good … Matt, right? It’s Matt?” Terry pulls out his notepad.
“That’s right.” He watches Terry flip through his pages.
“While we’re here, we’re trying to nail down the timeline regarding the night Holly Monroe went missing, and I wanted to reconfirm a few things, if you don’t mind. Before it gets too busy here. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Yeah, I guess.” There’s a touch of wariness in Matt’s voice.
Schmidt hasn’t said a word, his focus on the menu in front of him.
“You said Holly Monroe was escorted out by off-duty officer Lynch and your doorman Joey at 8:30 p.m.”
“Sounds about right. Emery was around for that too.” He nods to me.
“Yup, we noted that. And Holly never came back inside after she and her friends were escorted out. You never saw her again.”
“No, sir.” Matt shakes his head. “From what I heard, it sounds like she was hangin’ out in the back parking lot for a bit around midnight? But that’s just what I heard.”
Terry nods. “I didn’t ask about Jack Barrow before, but he was sitting right”—Terry surveys the stools and the TV screens behind the bar—“right where I’m sitting, actually. For a few hours, watching the games. He left at 12:45 a.m.”
“Uh …” Matt scratches his cheek. “I mean, I can’t remember exactly what time but that sounds about right?”
“And you and a staff member named Shawna were the last to leave at 3:00 a.m., which matches the video footage of you driving out in a …” Terry checks his notes. “Green Honda Civic.”
A server appears then with a white cardboard take-out clamshell. Matt directs her to me with a finger-point. “Yeah, sounds right. I gave Shawna a ride home that night.”
“And then you went home to grab a couple hours of sleep before you were back here at 10:45 a.m.” Terry pauses, looks at Matt. “Did I get that all down right?”
“Sounds good.”
“I didn’t miss anything?”
“Nope.”
“Nothing at all?”
Matt shakes his head, his eyes locked intently on Terry.
“Perfect. I think we have what we need.” Terry smiles as he closes his notepad.
I can’t help myself. “Holly wasn’t waiting for Logan in the hallway that night, was she? Your office is beside the men’s washroom, and you were in it.”
“What?” Matt’s expression falters, awareness flittering past it. He tracks Schmidt as the burly detective saunters over to the far end of the bar. “Sir, can I ask you to step over here?”
Matt looks once to me before meeting the detective. “What’s going on?”
“I’m going to ask you to remain calm,” Schmidt begins. “You are under arrest for the murder of Holly Monroe—”
Behind us, Shawna gasps and glass crashes as she drops her tray of drinks.
Schmidt doesn’t even flinch. “Please turn around with your hands behind your back so I can handcuff you.”
Matt does as asked, a cagey look in his eyes. “Emery, I—”
“You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay,” Schmidt cuts him off.
I listen with an odd mix of shock, satisfaction, and sadness as the detective coolly delivers the Charter rights to a man I considered a friend.
The small audience in the Bale House is stunned silent. No doubt news of this arrest will be traveling through Cold River like a freight train at maximum speed with no brakes within the hour. For once, I’m pleased.
But this will rock our community. Matt Danes is known and well liked.
“Ready?” Schmidt calls out to Terry before leading Matt away.
“Yeah, coming,” Terry says, his words muffled. “Damn, McAllister, you were right. This is good.”
I turn to find my take-out container open and Terry devouring a quarter of my club sandwich.
“Guess I’m not getting that burger.” He saunters out.
Annie:
They’re inducing her!
I smile at the text before tucking my phone back into my pocket. Sarah must be relieved.
The smell of gasoline touches my nostrils, and I inhale instinctively as the pump meter churns and fuel pours into my SUV’s tank. There is something especially potent about that scent in early spring, when the air temperature is neither crisp nor mild.
My gaze drifts to the busy street and the cars that travel it, on their way home from work or to grab groceries for dinner, to shuttle their kids to after-school activities or any number of daily life’s errands, unaware of the shock that’s about to unfold.
It’s the second time in twenty years Cold River will have made headlines.
By tonight, even the biggest news stations will have reporters here to get more information about the arrest made in Holly Monroe’s case.
I’m no less in shock now than I was when I realized the truth, only now it’s coupled with anger.
And I teased him about dating younger women. My stomach turns at the thought.
When I left the station for a meeting at Dillon’s office, Matt was waiting to speak to his lawyer. He hasn’t admitted to anything yet.
I imagine Schmidt and Terry will begin interrogating him shortly and if he listens to his lawyer, he won’t answer a single question.
Then it’s a matter of building a case that’s strong enough for a conviction.
Logan’s eyewitness account of his car at Lake Temagami on Saturday morning won’t be enough.
But it was the catalyst for it all.
When I reviewed the Bale House feed again last night, solely focused on Matt, I saw his guilt unfold as clearly as if I watched him commit his crimes.
The guy was constantly buzzing around—behind the bar, running in and out of the kitchen, changing a keg.
He went to his office at least ten times.
He was in and out of the camera feed all night long—as anyone can expect a busy owner who works the bar to be—and never for very long.
But at 1:05 a.m., Matt grabbed what I now realize was a pack of smokes from the counter and went down the hall.
He was gone for nine minutes and thirty-two seconds, and when he reappeared, his blue denim over-shirt was missing and the Bale House logo on his gray T-shirt was an older one.
It’s such a subtle difference, but it’s there, right in front of us.
I’m lost in my thoughts as the red tow truck pulls up on the other side of my pump, its engine chugging. A quick glance around confirms that Axel had four other—more convenient—spots to choose from.
My instincts kick into high alert, given our last encounter.
I shut off the gas and set the nozzle back in place, as I use my body radio to call for backup.
By the time Axel exits and rounds his truck to reach the pump, I’m waiting for my receipt and dispatch is chirping to inform me that Samir is three minutes out.
Axel’s flat stare when our eyes meet shows no shock. He knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled up there. He scans the area, noting the elderly man at the far side who fills his tank, oblivious to anything but his task at hand.
“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t be stupid.” My hand hovers over my holster as I shift my stance, checking the passenger side for Hank. But he’s not there. Axel’s alone.
He unfastens his fuel cap. “I heard the Bale House owner was arrested for Holly Monroe’s murder.”
“And?” I’m not surprised he’s heard already. These tow truck drivers are on their CB radios all day long, sharing gossip as much as important traffic info.
The machine on the other side beeps as he presses keys. “I towed that guy’s car to the wreckers.”
I already knew this. Not that Axel towed it, but that it was taken there.
One of the first things we did was check the Ministry of Transportation’s records to confirm that Matt’s Honda Civic had been registered as scrapped that same weekend.
That “beater” that Matt called his “ride or die” only the week before.
It’s long gone now, stripped and crushed, the metal gone to recyclers along with any evidence we could have pulled from it.
“Okay.” I watch him closely as he guides the nozzle into his truck. Am I imagining things or does Axel have something specific he wants to tell me?
“He said it was dead, but the engine turned over fine.”
“And you thought that was strange?”
“No. I mean yeah, but what was strange was the trunk. It was empty. Tire kit gone, carpet ripped out, and it reeked like chemicals.”
That’s where Matt would have put Holly. Her blood was probably all over it. “Did you ask him about it?”
“I mentioned it. He said he was bringing industrial cleaners for the restaurant and they’d spilled in there.
I didn’t think much of it. Not until now.
” He meets my eyes again and something strange darts past. Is that regret?
It’s gone just as quickly. “I don’t know if that helps any with your case, but I thought I’d tell you. ”
What would have helped is if Axel had reported it to the police back then, but pointing that out isn’t productive. The fact that I’m getting any information from a Murphy, and offered, is shocking to say the least.
Besides, I can see why he wouldn’t make the connection between Matt and Holly.
None of us did. We’ve been buying his story all these months.
“Every bit of information is helpful.” I pause, considering how I want to word this.
“Why are you coming to me with this? You guys haven’t exactly been eager to help in investigations in the past.”
“Honestly? I thought Landry did it, so what was the point of coming to the cops?”
“Because you actually thought I’d protect him if I thought he did this to that poor girl?
” A mixture of anger and dismay fills me.
How does a person live with such distrust for us?
Then again, his father died at the hands of the police, and he was raised by Hank and Big Hank.
Who knows what poison he was raised drinking?
“We’re going to make sure whoever did this to Holly pays for it.”
His brow pulls together. “Holly and I were just friends. I knew how young she was. But she was always nice to me. Not everyone around here is.”
Because of who his father is. I’m guilty of that judgment too. And for some inexplicable reason, I believe him about Holly.
“Would you be willing to give a formal statement about the trunk?”
“Maybe.” He purses his lips. “As long as it’s not gonna turn into something else.”
An interrogation, he means. “Just a statement about the trunk and anything you can remember about Matt that day,” I promise.
A cruiser pulls into the gas station then, easing in front of Axel’s tow truck.
He side-eyes it, then me. “Really?”
“Can you blame me after last time?” I gesture to Samir to stay put.
“Guess not,” he mutters.
I claim my receipt from the dispenser. “If you want to help with Holly’s case, you’ll come to the station and give that statement.”
His nod is almost imperceptible.
“Great. Thank you.” Maybe there is a working heart in at least one Murphy chest cavity, after all. And the tip may not be much but it’s another piece of the puzzle. If Terry plays it right, it might just be another nail to stick in Matt’s coffin.
Axel lingers, shifting from foot to foot as he waits for his fueling to finish. I imagine the idea of helping the police is unpleasant for him.
“See you soon.” I smile. For once around a Murphy, it’s genuine. “And Axel?”
His eyebrows arch with wariness. “What?”
“This mess between your uncle Hank and Logan, I’d stay far away from it if I were you. No need to get involved with something he did years ago. Consider that solid advice.” I don’t want to tip my hand too much.
I leave Axel to heed that warning, dialing Terry’s number as I pull away.