Chapter Seventeen Another Piece of the Puzzle #3
“You as well, missy. I want details. All of them.” He blew her one last kiss. “Ciao, bella.”
After Arlo dropped Mikey at their apartment, he went back to the police station. Burton was surprised to see him. When he said he was there on official police business, the chief raised his eyebrow and called Estes. The two then led Arlo to an interrogation room.
“So what brings you back here, Arlo? Miss us?” Burton said.
Arlo just smiled and slid the napkin across the table to Burton.
Before the chief could ask the inevitable question, Arlo filled him in.
“That guy in the photo? He was at the Waterwitch this morning. I managed to grab a partial plate.”
“Great work, Arlo,” Burton said.
“Is this going to change the verdict?”
“There hasn’t been a hearing yet, Arlo.” Burton stifled a grin.
“What about Crusty?” Arlo asked awkwardly.
“I spoke to him this morning. He said he wouldn’t press charges if you agree to clean his house twice a month.” Burton paused. “He keeps it pretty tidy, so it won’t be a lot of work for you. I’d say take the deal.”
Burton knew this wasn’t protocol, nor was it outside the lines. If no charges were pressed, then there was no case, regardless of what Arlo confessed to.
Arlo chuckled. “I gotta clean the shop, too. Maybe I’ll start a cleaning business.”
“Whatever keeps you out of trouble and out of jail is fine with me,” Burton said. “We’re going to have to take this up with the county prosecutor to see how he wants to handle it.”
“But I can’t afford a lawyer.” Arlo hung his head.
“This is how it’s going to go down. We will charge you with trespassing. If no other charges are filed, you may get off with community service. A plea deal, as it were.”
Truthfully, Burton didn’t care if the prosector threw the case in the trash.
Arlo wasn’t a hardened criminal. Not yet, anyway.
Sure, he had gotten himself into a few skirmishes, been issued some drunk and disorderlies, but Burton hoped Arlo was going to be on the straight and narrow from now on.
Burton could tell Arlo was horrified at his own behavior.
Maybe a little bit of sobriety would help, as well.
Burton marked that down for the prosecutor to note.
“Arlo, you are free to go now. Remember, do not leave town.”
“As if I had someplace to go.” Arlo grunted, thinking about Dennis’s scheme to go on the lam—to Cuba, no less.
On his way back to the shop, Arlo stopped at Crusty’s place to see how he was doing and to offer his apologies.
The two shook hands, and Arlo ordered a pizza for them to share.
It would be the first meal where they sat at the same table since the eighth grade.
Maybe it was time to set whatever grievances behind them, even if they couldn’t exactly remember what they were.
Burton had a few more questions for Mikey and decided to make a detour to Farrell’s Dive Shop on his way home.
He knew Mikey and Arlo lived together in one of the back buildings in the apartment they grew up in.
Burton couldn’t figure out why the two sons never found their own place to live, but it wasn’t unusual for folks in Smuggler’s Cove to live in the same home for their entire life, even if it was in the back of a dive shop.
The brothers never locked their doors, which also wasn’t unusual in the small town—although with the influx of new residents and a flow of summer tourists, it was now advisable to take precautions to ensure you and your belongings were secure.
But apparently, the Farrells didn’t heed that advice.
In fact, their apartment door was wide open.
Burton walked into the small area that served as a living room with a Murphy kitchen.
A bedroom flanked either side. Burton rapped on the side of the door. “Mikey?”
“In here,” Mikey called out.
Burton filled the bedroom doorway with his height and build. From Mikey’s vantage point, Burton looked like a superhero.
“How are you feeling?” Burton asked.
Mikey sat up and tossed the magazine he had been reading toward his feet. “Good, Chief.” Mikey looked around the room for a place where the man could sit. He finally pointed to an old wooden chest. “Have a seat.”
Burton lowered himself slowly onto the fragile box.
“I’ve been doing some more thinking about this mystery man. Tell me, how did he communicate with you?”
“A burner phone.” Mikey picked it up from the folding table next to his bed.
“Have you heard from him lately?”
“Nope. I’m kinda surprised, to tell you the truth.”
“Aren’t you worried he’s going to come back? You left the door unlocked.”
“Yeah. But I got a can of this.” Mikey reached under the blanket and produced a container of pepper spray.
“That’s not going to stop a bullet,” Burton reminded him.
“Yeah, but I don’t take this guy as some kind of gunslinger, if you know what I mean. The guy gets a manicure, for pity’s sake.”
Burton snickered. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“How could I not with him shoving a finger in my face.” Mikey stopped to take a sip of water. “That was before he let the wrench do his talking.”
“We’re circulating the photo to see if anyone recognizes him. Arlo told me he saw him at the Waterwitch this morning. Did you know your brother managed to get part of the guy’s plate number as he drove away?”
By the look on Mikey’s face, Burton surmised this was all news to him.
He continued: “Thanks to Arlo, we now know the make and model of his car, and according to the lab, the paint on one of the rocks found by the crime scene is car paint and matches the color of the car in the photograph. If we can get a name, I am going to ask you to call him and set up a meeting.”
“Uh, I dunno about that, Chief.”
“Let’s give it a couple of days. Meanwhile, I want you to get some security in place. You are a sitting duck here. You may not think this guy can pull a trigger, but desperate people do desperate things.”
Burton’s words resonated with Mikey. He knew firsthand how true they could be.
“When I leave, I am going to lock the door,” the chief continued. “You keep your phone and that pepper spray close by.”
“Will do,” Mikey promised, and saluted Burton as he walked out and pushed the lock pin into the doorknob.
Mikey closed his eyes and sighed. As much as he wanted this whole situation to be done with, he feared that it was far from over.