To Love and to Perish

SEVENTEEN


SURE ENOUGH, AS RAY promised, my cell phone rang minutes after Cory and I returned to the shop. A terse and unfamiliar voice issued an invitation to come on down to the county sheriff’s department and answer a few questions. I could bring one guest, Cory.

We didn’t talk on the drive over to the county’s public safety building. The building was about thirty minutes outside of Wachobe, in a much less touristy town. It housed the sheriff’s office, county court, and a forty-cell jail. Flanked by a hospital and a convenience store, the imposing brick and cement facility seemed

impervious to the hustle of traffic outside. I’d been there before several times, but every time I entered the place, I got the creeps. Jail was on my list of places I never wanted to go. Yet here I was.

The officer at the reception desk pointed us to the waiting room chairs. Cory picked the closest and sat with his knee bobbing up and down. He hadn’t asked me again if he should admit to finding Brennan’s financial records, and I hadn’t brought it up either. As far as I was concerned, it was his story to tell. I would join in only if he asked me.

But they separated us. Cory got called in first, leaving me alone in the waiting room. We hadn’t expected that, although we should have. I knew for sure Ray wouldn’t be the one asking me questions now. I just didn’t know who would be.

Twenty minutes later, I remained alone in the waiting room. When the door to the sheriff’s department’s inner sanctum opened, my head snapped up from the magazine pages I’d been idly turning. I expected to see an officer coming for me, but instead Catherine Thomas appeared.

She wore a striking red skirt and jacket, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. The leather of her black stilettos matched her briefcase perfectly and made her seem like a giant, since she stood quite tall barefoot. Three gold bangles adorned her wrist. They seemed to jingle “I’m so pretty.” Once again, she reminded me that she had it all goin’ on.

“Jolene. I’d say it was nice to see you, but I’m representing Brennan. I understand you and Cory are here to provide information about his latest arrest.”

“Unfortunately.”

She shot a glance at the deputy behind the desk, who was fielding a phone call, and settled into the chair beside me, leaning in conspiratorially. “Any chance you want to fill me in?”

“I would, but it might get back to Ray.” Now that Brennan had been arrested in his county, I knew I’d better not talk to anyone until I talked to him or his fellow officers.

She heaved a huge sigh. “Ray won’t tell me anything either. He’s not assigned to the case because you’re involved, and that only makes him that much more uncooperative. He hates it when he’s not assigned to the big cases.”

Our sheriff’s department was small, though our county was relatively large. The sheriff had long ago decided that, in order to keep his tenured deputies motivated, they would rotate assignments between patrol and investigation. This method worked wonders for morale and employee retention, except really interesting cases didn’t come along all that often, a murder almost never. Catherine was right. Ray was irritated to be left out of this one because of me and Cory. I hated that Catherine knew I’d affected my husband’s career negatively.

But a brief burst of happiness flowed through me, knowing my husband wasn’t talking to his ex-lover.

Guilt followed. Call me naïve, but I still believed in Brennan Rowe—and Catherine’s ability to save him from the big, bad sheriff, not to mention the district attorney.

Catherine drummed her red manicured nails on the wooden chair arm. “I can’t believe anyone really thinks Brennan is a murderer. It’s obvious to me this whole thing is a setup. I couldn’t get Ray to admit it, but I’m sure he thinks so, too.”

I remained silent.

She popped up from her chair, still clutching her briefcase. “I’m going out to the car to make a few phone calls. They’re through questioning Brennan until they get Cory’s story and yours. Then they’ll start in on Brennan again. I’m going to line up an investigator for whatever comes to light here today.”

She leaned down toward me. “Listen, Jolene, just tell them the good, the bad, and the ugly. I can’t help Brennan if I don’t know the whole story. Neither can Ray or anyone else. Will you do that for me?”

She didn’t wait for my answer. Maybe she already knew what it was. I wished I did.

The bad and the ugly could cost Cory his relationship with Brennan. It could cost Cory and me our friendship. My business might need to hire a new mechanic. On the other hand, a killer was definitely on the loose in our hometown. Again. Last time he might have been caught sooner if I’d been more open with Ray during the investigation.

When the door opened forty minutes later and they called me in, I felt like I was walking the plank. The sheriff himself, who bears a great resemblance to a most familiar and right jolly old elf, interviewed me along with Max, Ray’s peer. They simply asked for my story.

And I told them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

So help all of us.

_____


Ray was nowhere in sight when I left the department. I wondered if he’d been dispatched to interview any one of the people I’d named or perhaps to get a search warrant signed for Brennan’s home. The sheriff’s eyes had sparkled at the mention of the yearbook and the check registers. Brennan and Catherine were in for a long night. I wouldn’t expect Ray home on time.

Cory was in the waiting room. We walked out to his car in

silence. Only after we were safely inside its cocoon did we speak—simultaneously. “I told them about the check registers.”

We both laughed with relief.

Cory leaned back against the headrest. “I was afraid you wouldn’t tell and you’d get in trouble.”

“I was afraid if I told and you didn’t, you’d hate me.”

“No way, Jo. We go back too far.” He sighed. “I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. I don’t think Brennan is guilty, and the only way they’re ever going to find Wayne Engle’s killer now is to know all the facts. If Brennan hates me forever, then so be it. And if by some bizarre twist of fate, he is a killer then I’m just lucky to find out now before I invest any more in our relationship. The truth will set you free.”

I smiled at the all-too-familiar gift shop quote. We all spent too much time in our tourist town, which had its share of clichés for sale. “I have to admit I feel better, too. Let the professionals handle it. I’m happy to sit this one out.”

“I doubt they’re finished with us yet.”

“I saw Catherine Thomas before I met with the sheriff. She wanted me to tell her the whole story. I wasn’t comfortable telling her then, but now, hey, the sheriff didn’t tell me to keep quiet. He did ask me to stay away from everyone we spoke to. What about you?”

“The same. If Catherine asks again, I don’t see why we can’t talk to her. It’s in the interest of learning the truth, right?”

“Right.” Still, I wondered what Ray would say about that. I’d ask him later.

Cory and I drove back to the shop, stopping to pick up submarines for a late lunch. The answering machine light wasn’t blinking when we entered the shop. We set up lunch on my desk.

I bit into my tuna submarine.

Cory’s roast beef remained wrapped.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re probably talking to Brennan now, interrogating him.”

I chewed and swallowed. “I’m sure they are. But they’ll figure this out. We were just the catalyst.”

“We must know the killer.”

“I’m sure we do, but for the life of me, I don’t know which person it is.”

Cory shook his head. “We don’t even know for sure if we’re looking for one killer or two. And James Gleason’s death could still have been an accident.”

“The sheriff wanted to get the original of that YouTube video I found on the Internet. He said maybe they could enhance it to see the crowd behind James and Brennan better. Before he let me leave, I had to bring the video up on screen for Max.”

Cory unwrapped his sub and took a bite, mayonnaise dribbling on his chin. “Who do you think killed Wayne Engle?”

“I have no idea.” I reviewed the people we’d met in my head. “I doubt it was Elizabeth Potter’s parents. They’re too old, and the mother seemed to like Brennan. I don’t think she’d want to frame him.”

“Mr. Potter might want to. He seemed miserable—and so did his dog.”

I laughed, trying not to spew tuna.

Cory picked up a tomato slice that had fallen out of his sub and popped it in his mouth, swallowing it in one gulp. “But they were pretty old. What about Matthew Gleason? He was young and strong. We know he was at the race.”

“Why would he kill his godfather? He seemed to like him.”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet his mother.”

“Me, too. She’s my number one suspect. James Gleason was a hothead. They fought all the time. He could have been giving her a hard time about the divorce. Maybe she was having an affair with Wayne, who saw her at the Glen and realized she was the killer after we talked to him.”

“Or maybe Matthew killed his father to protect his mother. We’ve read about cases like that in the paper before.” Cory hesitated. “Do you think the guys at the sheriff’s department are coming up with theories like this?”

“I have no doubt. They probably have even more fertile imaginations than we do.” I chewed my sub. “Matthew admitted he wouldn’t miss his dad. Maybe he didn’t want Wayne as a replacement dad.”

Cory pointed his index finger at me. “Another good theory. Keep going.”

“Elizabeth Potter might want revenge on Brennan for the car crash years ago, but I don’t know why she’d want to kill Wayne Engle, unless he knew she was blackmailing Brennan and threatened to expose her.”

“Why expose her now? The blackmail payments stopped more than a year ago.” Cory swigged his soda.

“If they even were blackmail payments.” I crumpled the sub wrapper and made a basket. “We’re going to drive ourselves crazy trying to piece this all together. Let’s leave it to the professionals for now.”

“I’ll bet you one thing for sure.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t Evie.”

I burst into laughter as my cell phone rang. I fumbled for it in my purse and answered, still grinning.

“Jolene, it’s Isabelle. Are you busy right now?”

“Not really.”

“Can you come give me a lift? Please?”

An odd request, considering Isabelle lived an hour away. I thought I detected a note of desperation in her voice, too. “What’s going on?”

“Can you just come? I’ll tell you when you get here.”

I checked the digital readout on my office wall clock. A little less than two more hours to closing time. Danny was at football practice right now, and he had a birthday sleepover party immediately following. I’d dropped the gift and his things off at his friend’s house this morning, promising to pick him up at nine a.m. tomorrow. Ray could be at work for hours.

Cory was slumped in his chair again, his brow furrowed, eyes clouded. He could use a trip to the gym to release some stress.

“We just decided to close up early today. I’ll leave now. Where are you?”

“Sitting outside the jail.”