“Did she have any money?” Bree had seen Camilla’s bank statements and already knew the answer was no.
Bernard folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Not in cash. But she could have mortgaged the farm or accepted the offer from the developer. I’ve already mortgaged my home and drained my savings.”
“Do you think it was fair to ask your sister to give up her home?” Bree asked.
“It’s for the children! Their father could go to prison. They’ll lose their home.” Bernard thumped a fist on the table. “Camilla complained about not having grandchildren for years. All I ever heard was how much she loved children. I thought she actually did.”
“You called her a few days before she died,” Bree said.
Stephanie interrupted. “You don’t have to answer, Dad.”
“No, it’s OK.” He squeezed her hand. “Yes. She turned me down last month, but I thought maybe she might have changed her mind after she’d had time to think about it.” His mouth flattened into a grim line. “She hadn’t.” He released his daughter’s hand and shoved his through his silver hair. “Eugene came to see me the next day. He told me to stop badgering his mother and go beg somewhere else.” His gaze flittered away and the lines around his mouth tightened. He was holding something back.
“Eugene paid your son-in-law a significant sum of money last year,” Bree said.
Bernard’s nod was curt. “I warned Eugene. He wouldn’t listen, and Leonard sucked him in.”
“You knew Leonard was running a Ponzi scheme?” Bree asked.
Bernard shook his head hard. “Of course not. And Leonard wasn’t running it. He was suckered too. But Leonard was always pursuing some questionable-sounding scheme. My sister just wouldn’t understand.”
“I’ll bet you were angry,” Matt said.
“Dad, don’t say any more,” Stephanie warned.
But Bernard’s eyes flashed, bright with fury. “You bet I was angry. My sister was a selfish woman.”
Bree caught Matt’s eye and nodded. Matt left the room and returned with a printed photo. “We found these pants in your hamper.” He set the photo on the table and pointed to the dark stains on the pant leg. The lab had already performed a rapid test and confirmed the stain was human blood. “This is blood. Human blood.”
Bernard stared at the photo, then looked up at Matt. Panic widened his eyes as his gaze darted to Bree’s. “It’s mine.”
Bree scanned him. “You don’t appear to have any significant cuts or scrapes.”
“When I mowed my lawn the other day, the grass pollen set off my allergies. I had a nosebleed. If I had just committed murder, I wouldn’t have tossed my pants into the hamper. I would have burned them or buried them somewhere. But those are my yard work and painting pants. I don’t care about stains.”
The pants were beat-up.
“We’re sending the pants for DNA analysis,” Bree said. “So, we’ll know if you’re lying about that too.”
“I’m not lying, not about that.” Desperation sharpened Bernard’s tone. “I can’t believe you think I killed my sister and nephew.” He sat back, his face stricken.
“You lied about seeing Oscar. You lied about calling Camilla. You lied about the value of the farm, and you lied about needing money,” Bree pointed out. “Why did you lie about those things?”
Bernard stared back at her. His mouth opened. “I—”
“Don’t answer that, Dad,” Stephanie interrupted him.
Bernard’s mouth snapped shut.
“Because they made you look guilty?” Matt suggested.
Bernard’s jaw sawed back and forth, as if he were grinding his molars.
Stephanie put her hand on her father’s forearm, as if to physically restrain him. “Are you going to arrest him?”
Bree met her gaze. “Not yet.”
Stephanie stood. “In that case, my father won’t be answering any more questions.”
Even if Bree requested a rush, the DNA test would take a few days. Until then, Stephanie was right. Bree had no physical evidence. Making a case using circumstantial evidence wasn’t impossible, but it was damned difficult.
Frustrated, she watched Bernard and his daughter leave the station. She went to the conference room. Todd sat at the table, files and papers strewn across the laminate surface. His laptop was open in front of him.
Matt followed her in, and Bree summed up the interview for Todd before turning to Matt. “What did you think?”
“He had an answer for everything,” Matt said.
Bree nodded. “Except for why he lied.”
“Because the truth makes him look bad,” Matt suggested.
“He isn’t very tech savvy. He didn’t realize we could easily find the truth,” Todd added.
“Maybe,” Bree said. “Let’s get the original case report on the son’s suicide. I want to understand the family history.”
“What’s next?” Todd asked.
Good question.
Bree needed to clear her head and absorb the information they’d uncovered. “I’m going home. Speculation about motive is getting us nowhere. We need evidence. Let’s hope forensics has something concrete for us tomorrow.” She grabbed her laptop and stuffed it into her briefcase.
“I’ll order the report. I can also ask Jim Rogers if he knows anything about the Hudson Footmen,” Matt said. “During Jim’s interview, I felt like he was holding back.”
Bree felt like she should be going with Matt. She hated to take an evening off, but she needed to see her family. Her relationship with Luke felt uncomfortably fragile this week, and the suicide of the Crighton boy weighed heavily on her. Luke had to be more important than work, no matter how much she wanted—needed—to catch a killer.
Parenting had as many ups and downs as a big coaster. Seeing the family meant she wasn’t working. She knew delegation was part of her job, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Respect to all the women balancing work and family life. “Be careful. Don’t go alone. If you think Rogers or anyone else will talk more freely without me being present, take Todd or another deputy along, even if they just observe from their vehicle.”
“Let me know if you want my company,” Todd said.
“Will do.” Matt gathered his notes. “I’m going to make some more calls about Dylan. I got some weird vibes at his place. He’s up to something.”
Todd tapped on his keyboard. “I just got a report from forensics. The flower petals are from a Buddleia davidii, or butterfly bush. It’s not a native shrub but isn’t hard to grow. I don’t remember seeing any flowers of this color and size at Bernard’s house, but now that I know what the bush looks like, I’ll double-check in the morning. I’ll also run past Kenny McPherson’s and Heather Oscar’s places and see if I spot one.”
“Be discreet,” Bree suggested.
“I’ll drive my personal vehicle,” Todd agreed. “No one will notice me.”
Bree left the station and drove home. But talking to Luke at dinner proved as fruitless as working on the case. He mumbled one-word answers and sullenly stared at his plate as he shoveled spaghetti and meatballs into his mouth. His irritation clearly hadn’t affected his appetite.
Bree salvaged the evening by playing a board game with Kayla, then sent her upstairs for a shower. She promised to drive her to school the next day. When Kayla settled in to finish her reading homework, Bree stopped by Luke’s room.
She paused in the doorway and knocked on the frame. “What are you working on?”
“Pre-cal.” He sat at his desk, hunched over his notebook and pencil.
“Almost done?”
“Uh-huh.” He looked up, his eyes stubborn.
“OK. I’ll leave you to it.” She turned away from the silent treatment, wondering how long he would stay mad at her. Conflicts were a normal part of parenting, but his rebuffs hurt more than she’d expected.
Restless, her mind returned to the case. She headed to her office to process paperwork, type interviews, and review evidence reports. The investigation was less satisfying than her interactions with Luke. No matter how many times she replayed Bernard’s lies, Bree wasn’t completely convinced he was guilty.