A Beeline to Murder

“Not really, but I’ll walk with you,” Abby said.

Stepping out of Otto’s office, Abby heard Kat’s voice coming through Otto’s radio. “Ten-nineteen with Harlan Sweeney in custody . . . ETA . . . five minutes.”

Abby suppressed an urge to high-five Otto. She felt giddy with excitement. Abby knew how things would proceed now. Harlan Sweeney would be interviewed before being booked into the county jail. Abby just hoped the evidence would support a charge of capital murder. He was in this up to his elbows, with Eva Lennahan most likely calling the shots, until she pushed him the wrong way or Abby’s investigation caused him to be concerned about being found out. But Abby knew these were just her suspicions. Otto would have to back him into a corner if he was going to trip up Harlan Sweeney with his own statements.

They entered the break room. Otto poured himself a cup of coffee, added sugar, and then made a beeline for the cookies.

Watching Otto pop a cookie in his mouth and wash it down with sugary coffee, Abby said wryly, “Well, some things haven’t changed.”

“Carbs reduce my stress,” Otto confessed, reaching for another cookie. “Want one?”

“I’ll pass. More for you.”

Abby suggested that Otto push hard on Roy Sweeney. “Those two have a linkage in more ways than as blood relatives,” Abby said. Leaning against the wall, she added, “I’m thinking he’s weaker than his cousin Harlan. Implicate them both in Eva’s murder, and I think Roy will sing like a songbird.”

“Roy will say he was busy when Eva Lennahan died, and he’d be right,” Otto said. “In a strange twist of irony, you, Abby, will be his alibi. He’ll say he was defending himself against your friend Mr. Bonheur here, who tried to kill him with a stone after he mistakenly walked onto your property and roused your dog.”

Abby asserted, “Well, the dog . . . Sugar was protecting me from that thug.”

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the conversation. Her question intended for Otto, Nettie called out, “Which interview room?”

“Number two,” Otto called back. “I’m thinking it’s going to be a long day,” he said.

Kat marched a disheveled Harlan Sweeney in handcuffs past the break room and toward the interview rooms. Another officer, whom Abby didn’t know and who, she surmised, was a new recruit, judging from his youthful face, followed Kat and the handcuffed Harlan.

“Good luck,” Abby said. “Philippe and I will be waiting for news.”

Otto nodded and gave her a half smile, which, Abby knew from working with him, meant that he was already thinking of the order of the questions and his approach to the interview.





It was 6:12 p.m. when Abby got a text from Kat asking her where she was. Abby replied via text that she and Philippe were at his brother’s apartment, packing the last items to be shipped to New York. Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Leaving the bags of leftover bubble wrap, packing paper, and clear tape, Abby offered to answer the door.

“Hey there, girlfriend. Could we talk for a minute in the cruiser?” Kat asked, glancing past Abby toward the open door to the bedroom, where Philippe was tucking books of a similar size into cardboard boxes.

“Sure,” Abby said. She called out to Philippe, “I’m going outside for a moment to chitty-chat with Kat. I’ll be right back.”

He smiled and, flicking his fingers sideways, waved her on.

On their way to the cruiser, Kat said softly, “Otto and I thought you’d like to be the one to inform Philippe that Harlan Sweeney has confessed to murdering Chef Jean-Louis and also Eva Lennahan. And it went down, Abby, just like you said. Harlan Sweeney heard Etienne spreading that ridiculous lie about Jean-Louis and figured Eva could use it to her advantage.”