To Love and to Perish

SIXTEEN


CORY BROKE ALL THE speed limits as we raced over to Brennan’s house. It didn’t matter because we found almost every Wachobe police officer and county sheriff’s deputy there at the scene, along with an ample crowd of interested spectators, those yahoos with the scanners Ray loved so much.

Yellow crime scene tape surrounded the entire acre of Brennan’s lakeside retreat, stopping at the shoreline. At the edge of the lake, a group of uniformed and suited men huddled around a black bag on a gurney. The medical examiner’s wagon was parked within the perimeter, doors open, as though ready to receive its precious cargo. My sister, her husband, and a uniformed officer waited in the shade of a willow tree whose branches swept the surface of the lake, creating ripples.

The Wachobe police chief, whose everyday primary duties involved traffic control and metered parking, allowed us under the tape with strict instructions to see Ray and only Ray.

Cory, of course, wanted to see Brennan and only Brennan. We couldn’t spot him anywhere.

Ray saw us and broke from the huddle.

Cory gestured frantically. “Where’s Brennan?”

“He’s under arrest. Max took him over to the sheriff’s department for questioning.”

“Why?” Cory’s anguished cry caught the attention of the huddle. They swung around to study us for a moment, then went back to their own conversation.

Ray folded his arms across his chest, frowning. “Engle had an urgent message slip from his office in his wallet, with Brennan’s address on it. When I called his office to find out his next of kin, the woman who answered said he didn’t have anyone except his godson. I asked who his godson was. Imagine my surprise when I learned it’s James Gleason’s son. Then I asked her if she knew Engle’s plans for last night. She said they got a call around six thirty, right before they locked up for the night, from a Brennan Rowe, asking to meet with him last night. She said Engle seemed surprised, but indicated he would drive up here. Now he’s dead.”

I had to admit Brennan would make my suspect list, too, but an arrest? “Ray, I don’t see how you can arrest Brennan for his murder. Someone else could have called, using Brennan’s name.”

“That’s true, but there’s blood on Brennan’s dock. There’s blood on Brennan’s oar. It all points to Brennan.”

“What oar?”

Cory sighed. “He keeps one on his boat, in case the engine quits in the middle of the lake or he needs to push off something.”

Ray nodded. “That’s the one. He admitted it was his.”

I swung around to look at Brennan’s ski boat, sitting in its hoist at the end of the dock with the sun glinting off it. Beyond, in the middle of the lake, I saw another glint of metal, too, unrecognizable at this distance. I didn’t let it distract me. “So you think Brennan lured Wayne here, hit him with the oar, and shoved him in the water, hoping he would sink and disappear?”

“That’s the theory we’re working.”

“Someone else could have lured Wayne here just as easily.”

“True, but all the evidence points directly to Brennan at the moment.”

I let it go for now, having faith in my husband. Ray wouldn’t railroad Brennan into prison. He would ask all the right questions, or at least ensure that they were asked. “It would have taken Wayne at least three hours to drive here last night. He probably got here around ten.” I scanned the areas beyond either side of Brennan’s home. “Did any of the neighbors see anything?”

“Engle’s Mercedes is parked on the road at the corner of Brennan’s lot. We’re still canvassing, but the only neighbors with a clear view of Brennan’s dock are seasonal. Their docks are out of the water and their places are locked up tight.”

“What did Brennan say?”

“He said he worked in his office until eleven o’clock, then went to bed. He didn’t see or hear anything last night or this morning when he got up. He didn’t see the Mercedes parked on the county road when he pulled out of the driveway to go to work. A member of his construction crew heard the call to this address on the scanner and notified him. That’s why he came back here.”

Ray unfolded his arms, dropping his bad cop stance. “You need to take Erica and Maury home. They fell out of their canoe. It’s in the middle of the lake. Someone from the department will take the patrol boat out and tow it in later today.”

That explained the glinting metal I spotted earlier. Trust Erica to lose the canoe. Hopefully it wouldn’t capsize in the meantime, forcing me to reimburse our landlord for its loss.

Ray continued, “You’ll be getting a call from the department later today to come in for an interview. We’re going to need to know about everyone you two met when you went to Albany and Binghamton, and what was said. And anything else you might be holding back. Understand?”

I glanced at Cory, immediately giving it away to Ray that we were in fact holding something back.

He shook his head in disgust and walked away.

Cory’s panicky gaze met mine. “What are we going to do?”

I knew he was asking me if he had to tell about going through Brennan’s stuff and the record of payment he found. I gave him the only answer I felt confident about.

“We’re going to drive Erica and Maury home.”

_____


“Brennan’s mouth just dropped open when Ray said he was under arrest for killing Wayne Engle. He even teetered a little bit. I thought he was going to faint, didn’t you, Maury?” Erica whacked her husband on the shoulder.

“He definitely didn’t know what hit him.” Maury emphasized the word “him.”

Erica missed the hint. “That’s right.”

Cory’s gaze never left the road as he steered his BMW toward Erica’s house, but I knew he was taking in our conversation. “Did he say anything when Ray put the cuffs on him?”

“No. He couldn’t take his eyes off the area where Wayne Engle was lying on the beach. I thought Brennan looked sad, didn’t you, Maury?” She whacked him again.

“Yes, Erica, I did.” Maury raised his gaze to mine, silently asking for mercy. I twisted back around in the passenger seat to face the windshield, trying to end the conversation for the time being.

Erica chattered on, oblivious. “I can’t believe you just met Wayne, and now he’s dead. You must have stumbled onto something. Why else would someone kill him? I don’t believe for one second Brennan killed him. He’s too nice a guy. No way. Right, Maury?”

I heard her palm connect with Maury’s shoulder again. This time he didn’t respond.

Cory made the right turn onto Wells Street, and the 1870 white Victorian where Erica and Maury resided came into sight. Cory pulled up in front and put the car in park. He left the engine idling.

Erica leaned forward, thrusting her torso into the front seat between us. “Call me later and let me know what happens at your interrogation.”

“I will call you later, Erica.” Much later, if and when I could take her manic chatter.

Maury waited until Erica had slammed the car door to say, “Let me know if there’s anything we can do to help Brennan. I don’t think he killed anyone either.”

“Thank you, Maury.”

He nodded, a sober expression on his face.

As soon as Maury climbed out of the back seat, Cory pulled away from the curb. “None of Brennan’s friends think he killed anyone. I guess that’s good to know. He’ll have lots of character witnesses. But you know what’s bothering me?”

Cory didn’t wait for my answer before continuing, “Like Erica said, we must have stumbled onto something. Someone killed Wayne Engle; someone we met. If I’d listened to Brennan in the first place and stayed out of all of this, maybe Engle would still be alive. So, no, Brennan didn’t kill anyone, but apparently, I did.”

Once again, I didn’t respond.

I was too busy feeling guilty myself.