The Marsh Madness

“I’ll be back at the station in a half hour. Yes, ma’am. I do realize this is a murder case.

“To finish up, I was able to use the warrant to get the information you wanted from the library. We did turn up extensive searches for”—and here he paused a bit—“Jordan Bingham on the Kauffmans and their country home, Summerlea. We turned up evidence of a search on Shelby Church, and also we found a digital image of a group at the Country Club and Spa. Shelby is in that. The librarian has labeled her and made connections with other people in the photo. You’ll be interested to note that Chadwick Kauffman is also in the photo. Also labeled . . . Yes, ma’am. I brought it all in. It’s on your desk.”

I could hear Castellano squawking on the phone. Some phones make you sound like a deranged chicken when you’re on speaker.

“Ma’am? There could be a way to explain that. And there’s something I wanted to mention. You remember that Jordan Bingham and Vera Van Alst insisted that the people they met at Summerlea were not Chadwick Kauffman and his assistant, Lisa? . . . Yeah, I know that Kevin Kelly is in the wind and we ‘like’ him for the killing of Kauffman, but if you’ll hear me out, please. The dead woman, Shelby Church, fits the description of the woman they described at Summerlea . . . No, I’m not saying they killed her. I’m suggesting they would have wanted to talk to her. They would need her alive. Alive, she could confirm that they didn’t kill Chadwick. Dead, she’s—”

Another nail in our coffin, I thought. How’s that for a tired cliché? It had been a night of clichés, right down to hiding under a bed with someone sitting on top of it, like something out of I Love Lucy. Really, it might have been funny if I hadn’t been so close to getting arrested for something I hadn’t done.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN





“NO, MA’AM.” TYLER’S voice rose. “No. I don’t think the blonde was Jordan Bingham. Jordan has beaut— . . . long dark hair to her shoulders . . .Yes, I have heard of wigs . . . Someone recognized her? Was she caught on camera? . . . A tip? Just to clarify, was it an anonymous tip? . . . It was. I was wondering who is calling in these anonymous tips. What are they getting out of it? . . . No. No, ma’am, I’m not taking Jordan’s side . . . We aren’t together anymore . . . Yes, I did have some understanding that her uncles were, um, somewhat unorthodox, but, I checked, and Michael and Lucky Kelly have never been arrested, although we’ve been interested in them more than once. The word is that they don’t run any operations in our area. It’s all down South. Anyway, for your information, Jordan and I broke up. I haven’t had any contact with her at all . . . No, ma’am. I haven’t spoken to her except when I was on duty at Van Alst House . . . Yes, I’m sure. I have seen her from a distance, but that’s it. If you’re worried about it, you can always move me off the case. There’s always lots to d— . . . No, ma’am, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job. I’m fine with whatever you— . . . Right. I understand that my opinion is of no importance at all . . . Yes, ma’am. You can believe me. I have not been in contact with her.

“Where am I? Well, um, I’m at home, getting changed. A couple of angry older women were waiting outside the station, and they took me by surprise and one of them threw coffee at me.

“Seems they were protesting outside the station in support of the librarian and they recognized me.

“They claimed that they didn’t throw the coffee. It spilled.

“The woman who actually did throw the coffee says that she’s eighty-two years old and her hands shake and try to arrest her and watch the sh— “Seems like extortion to me too, but the crowd backed her up. I decided we have better things to do than lock up a crowd of senior citizens when we don’t have much chance of a conviction and we’re in the middle of a murder investigation.