Chapter 72
“This was all Madelyn,” Garrett said. He was sitting in the interview room at the Bonaventure County sheriff’s office, pressing an ice bag to his ruined nose.
Traci and Whelan sat on the other side of the one-way window, listening in.
“How’s that?” Coyle asked, his tone neutral.
“It was her idea, all of it. The fire at the dorm, trying to get rid of Livvy, that was all Madelyn. I’m telling ya, man. That is one stone-cold bitch.
“Me and Charlie were happy with the way things were going, but then, during the remodel, she said we should step it up. She said Mrs. E didn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground, because, you know, she was walking around like a zombie after her husband got killed.”
Traci winced and Whelan rubbed her shoulders.
“Back up,” Coyle said. “What kind of ‘things’ are we talking about here? And be specific.”
Traci listened while her former favorite waiter tonelessly laid out his crimes against her and her business, laying most of the blame at Madelyn’s feet.
“Once Madelyn got her claws into us, she wanted more. The old man gave her the job as design director, which was like letting a drunk run a liquor store, so she upped the ante, buying cheaper TVs, mattresses, furniture, like that, then dummying up purchase orders for more expensive shit. She put the squeeze to contractors doing the demo and build-out on the new wing. It was a lot of money, not that I saw that much of it.”
“How did Madelyn become a partner in your crimes?”
“How do you think?”
“Are you saying you and Madelyn Eddings had a sexual relationship?”
“Oh yeah.”
“And during the course of that relationship, you revealed the illegal activities you and Charlie Burroughs were engaged in?”
“Not revealed. She figured it out. I never did know how, but once she did, she was all in.”
“How did that sit with you and Charlie?”
“What could we do? We knew she’d go to the cops if we didn’t cut her in.”
“Right,” Coyle said. He’d been scratching notes on a yellow legal pad. “Tell me about the night of the Beach Bash, when Parrish Eddings was killed.”
“Jesus, what a clusterfuck,” Garrett said. “It wasn’t supposed to be Parrish. It was supposed to be Livvy. That fucker Cedric was so stoned, he could barely walk.”
“Livvy? Do you mean Olivia Grayson?”
“Yeah. Madelyn said Ric had gotten his old man’s will changed, so he would inherit most of the family company, but in the meantime she found out Livvy’s father was Ric’s father. How messed up is that?”
“How exactly did Madelyn Eddings discover this information?” Coyle asked.
“Last year, when the old man got too crippled up to live alone, Madelyn moved him into a smaller house. She was going through his files and found an NDA that Fred made Livvy’s mom sign.”
“By NDA you mean a nondisclosure agreement?”
“Right. Livvy’s mom couldn’t tell anyone who the baby’s daddy was, and in return, she got some money.”
“Did Madelyn tell Ric Eddings about that document?”
Garrett’s laugh was mirthless. “Hell no. She hated his guts. He always had a side piece.”
“Why didn’t she divorce him?”
“Two words. Pre. Nup. If she left, she’d get nothing.”
Coyle kept scribbling on the legal pad. “Take me through the night of the murder. Where did the fentanyl come from?”
“I can’t remember. Maybe Cedric?”
The sheriff looked up. “Try again.”
“A guy I know in town. Strictly small-time. And I’m not telling you his name.”
“We’ll get back to that. What happened next?”
“I knew Cedric from the other years his band played at the Beach Bash. I gave him the stuff, and told him to give it to Livvy.”
“What was KJ Parkhurst’s role in this project?”
“All he had to do was get Livvy to the party. But at the last minute Parrish decided to come too. And that’s how the fuckup happened. We pointed Livvy out to Cedric. But he was blasted on weed and coke. All he saw was a white girl in a flowered dress.”
“Parrish Eddings.”
“Like I said, it was a clusterfuck. Me and KJ got kinda wasted too. We didn’t figure out ’til the next morning, when Mrs. E came to the dorm looking for Parrish, what happened.”
“After that, you went out to the Shack, under the pretense of looking for Parrish, but really, you wanted to clean up the crime scene,” Coyle said.
“Madelyn was having a shit fit. I’m telling you, everything that happened was her idea.”
Coyle looked down at a phone, which he’d placed on the table between them, and rubbed his eyes.
“Let’s cut to the chase here. Why didn’t you leave the island, after the fire?”
“I couldn’t. My piece-of-shit car was dead,” Garrett said. “I texted Madelyn, to tell her what happened, and she said I should just go hide out somewhere, until it was safe to leave.”
“Back up. Did you know Livvy and Felice got out of the dorm alive?”
“I left as soon as the dryer blew. But KJ texted me they’d gotten out.”
“We have KJ in custody, by the way,” Coyle said, watching Garrett’s face.
Garrett rolled his eyes. “I told Charlie it was a mistake, bringing him in. Guy’s a lightweight.”
“You said Madelyn suggested you hide out. Where were you up until tonight?”
“A cottage that Madelyn knew about. A snowbird owns it, only stays there from Christmas through Easter. It was our hookup house.”
Coyle pushed his chair away from the table and crossed his legs. “Why did you show up at Traci Eddings’s house tonight?”
“Madelyn fucked me over,” Garrett said. “Totally ghosted me. I needed a car, and money to get off the island, and I figured Mrs. E had both. I was gonna make her go over to the hotel, get some cash out of the safe. I was never gonna hurt her. The gun was just to persuade her.”
Coyle pointed to the phone. “Are there texts on your phone? From Madelyn?”
“Hell yeah. She’d text whenever she wanted to get with me.”
“And you saved those texts? Didn’t delete them?”
Garrett smirked. “Insurance.”
Traci’s fingers itched to slap the smile off his face.
“Text her now,” Coyle said.
“She won’t answer. I’ve called, like, a dozen times.”
“It’s different now. Tell her KJ is in custody, and Charlie’s in custody, and the two of you need to talk. Tonight. Or you’ll go to the police with what you know.”
“Fuuuccck,” Garrett said, hanging his head. “You got Charlie?”
“And his girlfriend,” Coyle said. He tapped the back of the phone. “Text her. Tell her you need to meet up at that house you told us about.”