Chapter Seventeen
Sam’s stomach dropped. “No. No, I just talked to him.”
“I asked my cop friend what was going on at the bank, and he told me. When Gerald didn’t come out from his lunch break, a member of the staff came looking for him. He was dead at the bottom of the employee stairs leading down to the patio.”
“No. Those back stairs?” She felt sick thinking of it. Had Gerald been so upset by their conversation that he’d slipped and fell?
“That’s right.”
Sam asked, “Does it look like an accident? When I left him an hour ago, he was sitting outside having his lunch.”
“My friend said it looked like a suspicious death. They’re treating it like a homicide for the time being.”
Sam’s voice shook. “I can’t believe this. It must have happened right after I left.”
“I’m coming to see you.”
“Aiden—”
“I’m already in the car. Be there in five minutes.”
Sam sat, her phone still in her hand, feeling numb. Arlo put his head on her knee like he knew something was wrong.
Her thoughts were racing. She’d confronted Gerald.
Upset him. Then he went up those stairs alone, shaken by what she’d told him.
Had he missed a step and fallen down those steep stairs?
Had someone met him at the top of the stairs, shoved him while he was so distracted, and killed him?
If so, didn’t that mean that there was something Gerald knew that the killer didn’t want revealed? Why hadn’t he said something?
She’d exposed Gerald, made him vulnerable. If he had been murdered, the killer might have seen Gerald speaking with her. They’d have realized Gerald was talking, and they wouldn’t have known what it was about.
Arlo started barking, and Sam hurried to the door, peering out before she opened it. Aiden came in, took one look at Sam’s face and drew her carefully into his arms. She rested a moment there, feeling his strength and calm before pulling away. “The police will want to talk to me.”
Aiden nodded. “I’ll drive you over to the bank.”
They walked to his car and climbed in. Sam blew out a deep breath. “I feel like this is all my fault.”
“You didn’t kill him, Sam. Only one person is responsible for that. I’m just sorry I didn’t get your text message until it was too late. I’d have been at the bank with you.”
Sam shook her head. “I backed Gerald into a corner. Someone must have known he was vulnerable. They might have figured he was exposing them.”
“You were just trying to find out the truth.”
On the way over, Sam filled in Aiden, her story sounding disjointed and broken to her own ears.
By the time they reached the bank, the area was cordoned off with police tape.
An ambulance and other police vehicles were at the scene.
Sam saw the cops speaking with the bank employees, who all looked shaken up.
Hawkins approached, wearing a grim expression and looking frustrated. “Ms. Prescott. I understand you were speaking with Gerald Parker a little over an hour ago.”
Sam cleared her throat before answering. “That’s right. He was sitting on that bench.” She pointed. “I was on that one. Gerald was eating his lunch.”
“And what did you discuss?”
Sam took a deep breath. Aiden gave her an encouraging look. “His secret. He was a romance novelist who wrote under the pen name of Geraldine Hartwell. Margaret was blackmailing him.”
Hawkins gave a curt nod. “Charlotte Webb called to let us know that just a short while ago.”
“What happened? Do you know?”
Hawkins looked at her as if weighing how much he wanted to share. “The bank manager found him at the bottom of those stairs. He fell from the top of them to the bottom and didn’t survive his injuries.”
“Fell or was pushed?”
“We won’t know for sure until the medical examiner takes a look.
But given the circumstances and a couple of other things, we’re treating his death as suspicious.
I think someone wanted him dead, the same as Margaret Brennan.
” He stared steadily at Sam. “And I think you should watch your step, Ms. Prescott. The killer, if there was one in this case, might well have seen you meeting with the victim. You might be the next target.”
Sam nodded, feeling a cold chill run up her spine. Aiden looked at her with worried eyes.
Hawkins continued. “You need to tell me exactly what your conversation entailed.”
And so she did. From the point where she told Gerald she knew his pen name, to the point where he discussed his feelings about Margaret’s knowledge, to the blackmail, to his pointing at both Dylan and, reluctantly, to his friend Claire Mills.
“Claire Mills,” said Hawkins, jotting a note down in a small notebook. “What did Gerald Parker say about her?”
“He said she had motive. Claire was a writer, too. Gerald said she didn’t know that he wrote romance novels, but she was aware he was working on a book.
He said Claire was devastated when Margaret heavily criticized her manuscript.
Margaret had basically told her to give up on writing because she’d never make it. ”
“We’ll check it out,” said Hawkins. “But Ms. Prescott, this is a double homicide now. There’s an active killer. You need to step back.”
Sam said quietly, “Gerald talked to me right before he died. I’m already involved.”
Hawkins gave her a frustrated look. But he didn’t say anything more.
A black sedan pulled up, and a state policeman stepped out. Sam recognized him from another investigation. He was in his late-40s, tall, with graying temples and sharp eyes. Lieutenant Phillips.
“Chief,” he said to Hawkins. “What do we have?”
“Second homicide. At least, it appears to be. Same social circle as the first victim.”
Phillips took control naturally. “Let’s make sure the scene is completely secured. And I want statements from everyone who was at this bank today.”
He turned to Sam as Hawkins stepped away to check the scene.
A woman in her mid-50s walked up and straight to Gerald’s body.
Looking at how she was carefully studying him, Sam figured she must be the medical examiner.
Then Phillips took her aside, farther from Aiden, and had Sam repeat everything she’d just told Hawkins.
The blackmail, how she’d spoken to Gerald at lunch, how he’d admitted to being Geraldine Hartwell.
Phillips took notes as she talked, asking questions intermittently. He seemed, as usual, methodical and thorough.
“How did Gerald seem? Did he appear desperate? Like someone who might have thrown himself down the stairs?”
Sam shook her head, but her stomach fell at the thought. Had she pushed Gerald to kill himself? “He seemed scared and shaken up. But that’s it.”
“Who knew that you were meeting him?” asked the lieutenant.
Sam hesitated. Charlotte had, of course. And Aiden. Although neither of them had any reason to murder Margaret or Gerald. Still, she mentioned them.
Phillips nodded. “Anyone else?”
Sam shook her head again.
The middle-aged woman who’d been examining Gerald’s body called to Phillips. He briskly excused himself and stepped aside to speak to her. Sam waited. Neither of them seemed to realize she was still within earshot.
“I’m Dr. Sarah Chen, the county medical examiner,” said the woman. After Phillips had introduced himself, he said, “What do you think?”
“His injuries are consistent with a fall from that height. He’s exhibiting a broken neck and head trauma.”
Phillips said, “Does it appear to be an accident? Suicide? Homicide?”
“There’s bruising on his upper arms consistent with being grabbed or pushed. There are also defensive wounds on his hands. I noticed scraped knuckles and a broken fingernail.”
“So he fought back,” said Phillips.
“Briefly. Someone pushed him. He tried to stop himself, but couldn’t. He fell backward down the stairs.”
Phillips turned and seemed to remember Sam was there. She said, “Did you need me to stay to finish our conversation?”
“We’re done,” said Phillips curtly. “But I’ll be in touch.”
Aiden and Sam headed up to the parking area. “You okay?” asked Aiden.
“I’m okay. But I feel awful about what happened to Gerald.
I did overhear the medical examiner saying Gerald’s death was definitely murder, so I won’t worry I drove him to kill himself.
But still.” She paused. “Who could have done this? Obviously, Gerald wasn’t the one who murdered Margaret. So who did?”
Aiden shook his head. “Gerald must have known more than he was letting on.”
“Or the killer thought he did. Gerald specifically mentioned Dylan and Claire. But was it someone else? Why wouldn’t he have let the police know?”
Aiden said, “Maybe he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d seen something that didn’t quite click, but wanted to check it out for himself before making any allegations.”
Sam sighed, leaning against his car. “I feel like I shouldn’t have left him alone. He was obviously a target.”
“He was at a bank. Generally, that’s a pretty safe place. And he was a target because he knew something. Not because of anything you did.” Aiden’s face was concerned. “Do you want me to come in with you after I drop you back home? Talk this out?”
Sam shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I think I need some time to just decompress. Maybe get distracted by Arlo.”
“Arlo sounds like a great distraction. But call me if you change your mind. I don’t have anything going on right now.
” Aiden carefully didn’t mention the supper they’d planned that night.
He probably wasn’t sure it was something they should still do.
Sam, at this point, felt so depleted that she wasn’t sure either.