Is This Suitcase Taken? Read online

  Hope didn’t press for details, knowing they were not coming anyway. She respected Mac Rivers and was happy he and Brenda worked together on cases. When Brenda walked in, Hope offered her a hot beverage as well.

  “I’ll take coffee.” Brenda’s eyes popped when she perused the display of fresh pastries. “And…I’ll take a slice of the lemon pound cake with a dollop of whipped cream.”

  “I’m going for the chocolate cake,” Mac said. They chatted while Hope prepared their plates. “Let’s find a spot away from the window, Brenda. I’d just as soon not know what’s going on outside right now.”

  Brenda and Mac knew without saying that their conversation would be about the murder of Patrick Anderson. That was another reason to head for a table apart from the others. Hope’s shop had room for five bistro tables. Most of her customers bought sweets by the dozen and left.

  “I know that if Daniel killed Patrick, he didn’t do it alone,” Mac said. “I was hoping he’d waive his right to a lawyer, or ask for a plea bargain and tell us the whole story.”

  Brenda chuckled. “How often does that happen?” She forked a piece of cake. “When Alexandra mentioned seeing Daniel down there, she was completely lucid. She wasn’t going crazy like you witnessed. I think she has sane moments and that was one of them. She mentioned she saw the body being put in the box, as she called it. I can’t believe she let that slip but when I asked her what else she saw, she clammed up again. She resents Daniel right now because he let her know he’s not interested in renewing their relationship. I can see why, now that I’ve seen this other side to Alexandra. She seems delusional, Mac. It worries me.”

  “She may have fingered him for the crime as a part of this delusional thinking. Perhaps she wanted him to squirm. I hope she isn’t lying.”

  “Did he balk when you asked him about Patrick?”

  “He seemed surprised we knew they were acquainted.”

  “When this is all over, let’s go sailing on the ocean, Mac. A nice long cruise in the salt air will heal us.”

  “Until the next crisis,” he said. “Crime never sleeps.”

  “Good thing the Sweetfern Harbor police don’t sleep, either,” she grinned.

  He smiled in agreement and swallowed the last of the coffee. He kissed Brenda before he left, and she said she was headed back to the bed and breakfast.

  Mac headed straight for the police station, his steps swift and sure. He was determined to get some answers about the case and thought about the different avenues of investigation he still wished to pursue. “Detective,” the clerk said as he entered, “Christopher O’Malley wants to talk with you and the chief. I got word from one of the officers down the hall.”

  Mac’s steps picked up. He thought O’Malley must be ready to make some kind of deal. He stopped at the chief’s office to tell him. He turned when he heard Brenda’s voice calling after him.

  “You forgot your keys, Mac. I found them on our table after I stayed to chat a bit longer with Hope, but you were way ahead of me.”

  “You could have called me, Brenda.” He filled her in on the latest. She was eager to be in on the meeting.

  Chief Ingram introduced Brenda to Christopher and explained her role with the police department. He also mentioned she owned Sheffield Bed and Breakfast where his client and the homicide victim had both booked a stay for the weekend. Christopher did not look terribly pleased to hear all of this, but his demeanor remained congenial, as if they were conducting a social meeting.

  “My client only wants to tell his side of the story. He has information that may help your case. He wants leniency in exchange for his information, and immunity against certain charges…”

  Mac forced the sarcastic laugh back into his throat. Brenda stared at the attorney. “What kind of charges?” she asked.

  “What exactly does he mean by leniency?” Mac said, regaining his voice with some consternation.

  The attorney quickly realized Mac was less sympathetic and focused on Brenda. “Just charges of misdemeanors, failure to report crimes, that sort of thing. He doesn’t want to be charged as an accessory after the fact.” Christopher sighed and leaned in a little bit. “He’s promised me it isn’t anything bad. He just wants any sentencing reduced to parole only, if he’s charged with anything at all.” Brenda contemplated this but ultimately it was up to the chief of police. She turned to look at Bob.

  Chief Ingram shifted forward. “We would like to have his confession, but I’ll confer with the judge and my detective, as well as the officers involved. He’s asking for something he probably won’t be granted. There’s no immunity granted without us hearing what he’s got, that’s for sure. Let’s be clear on one thing, Mr. O’Malley. Murder means a death sentence. If he gets a life sentence, it will be with no possibility of parole.”

  Christopher’s face grew hard. “You are presuming he is the murderer. He isn’t. You should be looking at hard evidence. The judge is going to rake you and your team over the coals—”

  “Have it your way,” Mac interrupted the lawyer. Christopher abruptly shut his mouth and stood up straighter. Mac knew this wasn’t the first time an outside lawyer had misinterpreted the way small-town law enforcement worked, but Mac didn’t offer that observation aloud.

  After Christopher left the office, Mac took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “He’s a jerk, but he’s right about evidence. We have one unpredictable witness and nothing else.”

  “We still have the DNA results from samples lifted from the body and inside the footlocker,” Brenda said. “Once that comes back, we might have real evidence.” Even as she said it, Brenda felt it was all in vain. She gazed out into the hallway where Christopher O’Malley had recently stormed out. “I find it hard to believe his lawyer is asking for a deal.”

  “It’s early in the game,” Mac said. “It’s just jockeying for power. This tells me we have the right man. We just have to make sure he tells us what we need to know. We need to find who helped out.”

  Brenda shook her head. “I’m not so sure.”

  7

  Revised Confessions

  Brenda and Mac looked forward to dinner with their bed and breakfast guests that evening. Most planned to leave the following day, though several opted to remain a few days longer, hoping the cloudy weather would blow over and bring more sunshine to enjoy along the coast.

  As Brenda came out of the kitchen, she saw Allie at the front desk and invited her to join the dinner that night. Brenda liked to have some of her employees socialize with her guests at meals sometimes. “It’s grilled steak tonight. Pierre’s specialty,” Brenda said with a smile.

  “That sounds delicious. I can’t wait,” Allie said, her eyes round with excitement for the special meal. It was good to focus on things like this after such a long and frustrating investigation, Brenda reflected. “Don’t look so sad, Brenda. It’s working so well,” Allie commented in confusion. When Brenda asked her what she meant, Allie continued, “The new chef. He’s doing great, isn’t he? What’s the problem?”

  Brenda realized the misunderstanding and sighed. “It’s not that…you’re right, Allie. Chef Pierre has been a fantastic chef while Morgan’s on the honeymoon and everyone is drooling over his creations, not just you. Morgan and Tim have ten more days before they return. By then, if Morgan still wants to give up her job, I think we know who our next chef will be.” She smiled at Allie and the young reservationist’s sunny demeanor returned.

  At dinner that night, Allie sat next to Alexandra and across from the Dickinsons. Sandra wondered aloud about the absence of Rick and Carrie.

  “They decided not to sign in for dinner. They went on an outing today,” Allie said. “She told me they weren’t sure if they would be back in time for dinner. They took a sweet little box lunch picnic up the coast…Carrie was so excited! Rick was going to surprise her with a location, so I gave them several suggestions when she asked me. Little secluded nooks, perfect for time alone. Maybe he’s going to prop
ose or something!” Allie winked and turned to Alexandra right next to her and gushed, “Isn’t that just so romantic?”

  Alexandra turned red just then and suddenly coughed as if choking. Brenda jumped up from her chair to help dislodge whatever she swallowed. After a few pats on Alexandra’s back, the woman shook her head and held her hand up signaling she was fine.

  “I suppose I didn’t chew that bite of steak well enough. I’m fine.” She turned to Allie. “Did you say they wanted to be alone?” Allie said yes. Alexandra toyed with her fork for a moment, her eyes down. “I think they’re running away,” Alexandra said in a subdued tone.

  Mac perked up at her comment. “Why would that be?”

  “If I committed a crime, I’d run away before anyone realized I wasn’t so perfect after all.”

  Brenda sensed the change in Alexandra’s demeanor and quickly changed the subject. She asked how the others spent their day. She didn’t miss the sly, conspiratorial look Alexandra threw her.

  Conversations ebbed and flowed about guests’ various outings. Sandra found herself eyeing Alexandra more than once. The woman didn’t say anything else and enjoyed her meal in silence as if she hadn’t made such a bombshell of a comment. It was a terrible accusation and Sandra wondered why Brenda and Mac had let it pass so easily. She felt more reassured when the dinner guests began to leave for tea and drinks and desserts in the sitting room and Brenda asked Alexandra to stay behind a moment with her and Mac. Sandra marched out of the room to get her usual chamomile tea with a righteous smile on her face.

  “Let’s have our dessert here at the table if you don’t mind,” Brenda said to Alexandra when the three of them were alone in the dining room. “I have a special cheesecake tartelette I’d love to share with you.” Brenda served her guest a small plate of berry-topped tarts dusted with sugar.

  “I would love that. In fact, Brenda, this is a good opportunity for us to chat,” Alexandra said in a mild tone as she took her dessert plate. “There is another chapter I’m ready to reveal to you. Do you want to hear the whole story?”

  Brenda knew it had to be about Patrick’s death. “It’s what we’ve been waiting to hear, Alexandra. We’re all ears.” Mac kept his focus on Alexandra as he spoke. She agreed he was right, though she did not quite meet his eyes and moved the dessert around on her plate a bit like a child playing with her food. Mac cleared his throat to get her attention. “No more games, okay? I’d like to record this conversation and want you to understand this is an official interview. I’ll have to say that on the recording. Do you mind if I do that?”

  “I don’t mind at all. I have to tell everything before I go completely mad.” Mac set up his digital recording and spoke the date and time and then recited the names of the people present as he closed the hallway door and the one that led to the sitting room. He began. “Do you wish to have an attorney present?” Alexandra declined.

  She began. “I had nothing to do with killing him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what happened. I know what I saw with my own eyes. I can even tell you what song the ukulele player was playing while it happened. I was listening to that lovely music and watching a man’s murder, all at the same time. Later I had to try to forget everything, drown it in more mai tais than I can count, but for those few minutes, I lived in two worlds.” Her eyes were far away and she gazed out the dining room windows to the gardens and the ocean beyond.

  Brenda made a mental note of that comment, realizing they could perhaps use any video recordings of the wedding to figure out when the murder took place, based on when the ukulele player was playing specific songs. It still seemed like a tiny detail, however, when Alexandra was holding onto much more important information. “Tell us what you saw, Alexandra.”

  “I sat on the wall at first. I went there to enjoy the ocean as the sun went down and to listen to the music. It was all so beautiful – the dancing, the wedding guests toasting with champagne, Patrick swimming in the Atlantic that was spread out like a picture below me – and then I saw two men carrying a large trunk down to the shore. By then, the light was truly gone, and stars started to come out. I only saw them by the little light that shone from the streetlights and house lights nearby. One of the men carried a little rolling thing – a dolly, a wheeled cart. Then they both sat on the sand and watched Patrick swim. At first I thought they were simply there to observe the beauty like I was doing…” She trailed off, looking away from the outside view. “But then they stood up. I saw it was Daniel and Rick. It shocked me. They called to Patrick and their voices were friendly at first. Like perhaps they wanted to take a swim with him. He yelled and gestured back to them that the water was fine and challenged them to jump in.” Alexandra twisted her fingers together.

  “Patrick was always egging someone on. He liked taunting people. The two men stripped off their outer clothes and waded out and then began swimming toward him. He must have asked them about the box because they turned a little and seemed to be explaining it to him or at least talking about it. I couldn’t hear them by that time. The ukulele player was playing such a lovely song just then…”

  “What happened next? Down in the water, I mean?” Brenda asked. Alexandra was trailing off, thinking back. Brenda didn’t want her to lose her train of thought now.

  “They swam a few strokes around him and then in a flash Daniel locked an arm around Patrick’s neck while Rick wrenched his wrists back behind him. Both were surrounding Patrick, behind him, above him, and together they pushed him under the water. At first I thought it was one of those stupid games boys play in the water – but then I saw Daniel and Rick fight against him harder and harder, holding him under. A long time. Too long. And then finally there was no more thrashing around in the water and Patrick went completely still.” She shuddered and curled into herself at the memory.

  “Do you want something to drink, Alexandra?” Brenda asked. She said yes, and Brenda poured ice water from the pitcher on the buffet. She sipped it twice and resumed.

  “They dragged his body out of the water up onto the sand. It was an ugly thing. Worse than watching them drown him. It took them two tries before they managed to put him into the box. His limbs kept bending in the wrong directions, or his hand would get stuck. They didn’t care how they shoved him in there to fit. I thought I was going to be sick. Just when I thought the whole thing was over, I saw Rick grab his tie from his clothes on the sand and sling it around Patrick’s neck. He pulled hard. Maybe Patrick hadn’t been dead after all? I suppose he was making sure. Can you imagine, waking up after your own drowning, your body contorted and bruised, only to be strangled to death?” She looked up at Brenda with huge, pale eyes. “I’ll never forget that sight.”

  Brenda was at a loss for words. Among Alexandra’s quirks was a habit of imagining herself to be in a horrible situation, complete with morbid detail. It was unusual, to say the least.

  Then, oddly, Alexandra grinned at them. “That’s why Rick is running away. He isn’t such a romantic as he wants people to think.”

  “What did Rick have against Patrick?” Mac asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know him until I met him here. I know Patrick came from a very wealthy family. I think his father was the chief of medicine at some well-known hospital, I don’t know where. I heard later Patrick was a bigwig in a hospital, too.” She frowned. “I know he never became a doctor. He wasn’t that smart. Doesn’t Rick work in a hospital? I don’t know, maybe they knew each other from somewhere else. All I know is from what I saw, I would never let myself be taken on a ‘romantic picnic’ with a man like that. And to think, all this time, I thought Daniel was the one for me…”

  Brenda asked Alexandra to keep what she told them to herself. “You’ve done a brave thing, sharing all this with us. I know you’ve been carrying quite a burden with you.”

  Alexandra warmed at the empathy flooding Brenda’s eyes. “I think I’ll feel better after this. It is good to finally say what I saw. I felt safer telling it al
l now that I know Daniel will be locked up.”

  “Did he threaten you?” Mac asked. “Does he know that you were a witness?” He needed even a hint of evidence to keep the man behind bars until they could gather hard evidence from the DNA.

  “He didn’t say anything in particular, but he scared me. I promised I wouldn’t say anything once…but it was strange. I realized he didn’t even know I had seen him and Rick that night. When he figured it out, it was hard to miss his anger.”

  That night, Alexandra slept better than she had for a long time, especially once Mac and Brenda assured her that they would send out an all-points bulletin to look for Rick and Carrie in case Carrie was in any danger being alone with him.

  Brenda and Mac talked long into the night and figured out their next moves.

  The next morning shed new light on everything. Brenda woke up with a good feeling, and sure enough, over breakfast a technician from the evidence processing lab called Mac’s mobile phone with the good news that they had found positive proof of ownership of the footlocker.

  “We searched every pocket and hidden crevice in it. We found an ink print that had been made by a wet receipt on the inside lining of the trunk and were able to reverse-image it. It came from a nearby thrift store. The trunk was purchased secondhand just this week. The receipt was paid in cash so there was no name on it, but we were able to requisition the cash receipts book from that thrift store and guess what – the carbon copy in the receipt book turned up positive for prints matching the ones you took from your suspects, Rick Dawson and Daniel Swift.”

  Mac and Brenda jumped in the car and immediately went to the police station for a new round of interrogations using the latest evidence.

  When Christopher O’Malley accompanied his client into the interrogation room, Mac told him they were ready to listen to what he had to say. He promised no deal, knowing that the police already held the most important information.