An Intimate Murder (The Catherine O'Brien Series) (34 page)

Chad tweaked the end of his nose and sniffed for effect.

“You little bastard!”

I slapped my palms flat on the table. The loud crack made Linda jump, and stick her fingers in her ears. The rest of the room stopped their bickering and turned their attention to me. All except Bennett, who’s scratching pen, was the only sound in the room.

“I’m not finished talking yet!” I raised half out of my seat and looked around, daring any of them to make a sound. “When I’m done, I’ll lock you all in a room, and you can beat the crap out of each other. Until then, I have the floor.”

Jack returned his comforting arm to his wife’s shoulder. Linda pulled her fingers from her ears and curled in close to him.

“Okay, since you’re all getting a little antsy, I’ll get to the point.”

I put my butt back down onto the chair.

“I think you all see my dilemma,” I said. “Whenever I tried to pin the murders on any of you, the pieces didn’t fit.”

The Shar Pei-lawyer raised his hand like a grade-schooler.

“Yes?”

He tapped his pen on his legal pad. “So, if I’m following you correctly, no one in this room murdered the Luther’s?”

“That’s what it looked like,” I said.

Shar Pei smiled. He’d just won the gold star from the teacher.

“Until I found the final puzzle piece. The one that made all the others come together into that beautiful octagon shape.”

I spread my fingers in the air as if describing the sunrise.

Bennett frowned down at his notes, and then shook his head. “What piece was that?”

“The toxicology report on Chad Luther’s vomit.”

Linda Meyers blanched. “The what?”

“Chad stuck his finger down his throat, to give his discovery that added bit of authenticity,” I said.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chad said. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not. You had a fleck of vomit on your nail polish when we saw you at the neighbor’s house that day. At first, I thought the polish had chipped, but it was puke. If you hadn’t been wearing black nail polish, it probably wouldn’t have been so noticeable.

Of course, if you hadn’t vomited in the first place, you wouldn’t be facing a murder charge right now. Along with your Aunt Linda and your Cousin Katie.”

Bennett drew two business cards from his gray flannel pocket. He slid one toward Katie, and the other down the table toward Chad. He went back to writing notes without noticing the shocked expressions on the faces of everyone around him.

“Okay,” Jack said and made the timeout symbol with his hands. “Just bullet-point this whole thing.”

“Chad’s tests came back negative for drugs and alcohol, which erases his alibi. Except we spoke with Markus Vincent, and he says you were with him that day. Aside from being a drug peddling ass, why would he lie?” I shrugged. “That led me to check his bank records.”

“I checked them, actually,” Louise said.

I pointed over my shoulder. “That’s right. Detective Montgomery checked the bank records. Markus Vincent had a one hundred thousand dollar wire transfer from Katie Dolan the day before the murder.”

Bennett tisked and shook his head. “That doesn’t look good.”

“Shut the fuck up, you old fool,” Katie snarled at him.

Bennett’s brows snapped up, and his jowls drooped. He reached across the table and took his business card back. I guess no amount of money was worth taking abuse from a psychopath.

“Then I did a little more checking.” I held my hands in the air. “No actually, in the interest of accuracy, my friend Jane in the corner did the checking for me.”

Jane tipped her pen in a wave. Bennett gave a cheesy smile, wiggled his fingers at her, then went right back to making notes. Louise, Jane and I exchanged amused glances.

“Jane contacted the funeral home in McCann County to find out if Marion Luther was buried with her wedding ring.”

“Why?”

I expected the question, and as I expected, the question hadn’t come from Chad. Instead, it had come from Linda Meyers.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Whoever killed the Luther’s had something to prove. Right, Chad? You loaded the diamond, from your Grandmother’s ring, into the shotgun shell before you killed your Father. Apparently, you didn’t realize how thorough an autopsy is, because we found the ring’s setting in your Mother’s throat.”

Linda took a deep shuddering breath and choked out a, “no.”

“How do you know the ring was Marion’s?” Jack patted Linda on the shoulder.

“The stone was laser engraved and registered,” Louise said and I sent up a silent thank you. I still didn’t understand the whole diamond registry bit, and I really didn’t care, as long as it pointed me to a suspect.

“The only problem is,” Jane took the floor with more confidence than she’d had earlier in the day. “Marion Luther was buried with her wedding ring. At least she was according to the funeral records.”

“Whoever took the ring attended Marion’s funeral. This left Linda and Chad, since Katie was barely on speaking terms with Susan at the time.”

The Shar Pei-lawyer scrubbed at his forehead. “This is very confusing.”

“I know,” I agreed. “But I’m almost at the end, so stay with me.”

He nodded.

“My theory is Chad took the ring. You saw who murdered your Grandmother, didn’t you Chad? The Sheriff in McCann felt that a family member committed the murder, and he was right. Your father killed his mother, didn’t he?”

Large soupy tears rolled down Chad Luther’s face in twin streams of grief. He’d been holding the truth in for a long time.

“I saw him.”

“Jesus,” Jack Meyers whispered. “You can’t be serious, Jon killed his Mother?”

“From the hospital and court records, Marion Luther, and her husband were
spare the rod and spoil the child
parents,” Louise said. “There’s evidence that Marion abused her son.”

“That’s a fucking lie!” Chad dragged the back of his hand across his face and wiped the tears from his cheek. “She was a good person. She loved me. Grandma was the only person who did, and my dad took her away from me. He deserved to die, and my mom did too. She fucking knew dad killed grandma. Mom just spent the money like she wasn’t sleeping with a murderer.”

“Chad, I can’t believe you did this.” Linda cradled her head in her hands.

“Then how do you explain your car at the scene of the murder, Linda?” I asked. “The neighbor across the street remembered seeing a dark, late-model vehicle. After Chad’s alibi fell apart, I still couldn’t make the car fit. His car is a red Spyder, so I did a DVS search on you Linda. You have a dark-blue late model vehicle, don’t you?”

Jack Meyers pushed away from his wife. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes went wide with horror.

“Then there’s the matter of your husband’s shotgun.”

I edged forward in my seat, clasped my hands together, and leaned on my elbows.

“You gave Chad the gun and your car.”

“Linda, my God.” Jack slid his chair away from her.

“That’s why you kept telling Jack everything would be fine. Katie would pay you for your help with the murder, which would have solved all your money problems. Except she forgot about the provision in her Father’s will, which appoints a guardian for Katie, should anything happen to Susan.”

Jane gave me a thumbs-up from behind her folded arms to let me know I was on track.

“A small detail, easily over looked. That’s why you tried to frame Katie for both murders, by concocting the early morning attack on Chad.”

Katie sat bolt upright. “You what?”

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t know about that little bit yet.”

“You fucking cunt!”

Katie tried to stand. Bob Shackelford’s beefy hand on her shoulder drove her back into her seat with the force of a sledge.

“Revenge and greed,” Louise said. “The oldest reasons in the world to commit murder.”

I stood and nodded toward the one-way mirror on the far wall. The door to the interrogation room opened, and two more uniformed officers came in.

“Katie Dolan, Linda Meyers, and Chad Luther,” I said. “The three of you are under arrest for the murders of Susan and Jonathan Luther.”

“That was brilliant!” Jane skipped down the hall beside me. “I can’t believe you nailed them. Do you think you can make it stick?”

Louise pushed open the double doors of the bullpen and stood aside. “I don’t think prosecution will be that hard. On his way out, Chad was trying to make a deal to testify.”

“That’s great.” Jane shook her body. “Do you get this kind of high every time you arrest someone? I’m vibrating all over.”

Louise and I shared a smile.

“No, never,” I said. “I think your anticipating your big story.”

Jane clapped her hands together. “That too.”

In deference to the pain that made itself known, I gently swung my coat over my shoulders. Then I picked up my purse.

“Where are you going,” Jane said. “We have to write the story. You can’t leave.”

I touched my left shoulder. “I’m feeling a bit stiff and I’m really tired.”

Louise flicked on her computer. “I guess that leaves me to write the report.”

“Thanks.”

She smiled.

“But you can’t leave,” Jane said. “I have to go to press with this,
tonight
. By tomorrow, every news outlet in the Twin Cities will have the story.”

I fished my keys out of my purse, then flicked through the pile of metal, until I found the one for my car door. My car should still be in its space where I left it yesterday.

“Well, Louise is too busy to help you, and I’m going home to rest, per Doctor’s orders.”

“This is just fucking great.” Jane’s day-one pout returned.

“I guess that means you have to write the story by yourself,” I said.

“I guess.” She stared at the floor for a few seconds until she realized what I’d said. Her head snapped up. “Are you serious?”

“What do you think, Louise? Can we trust her?”

Louise pursed her lips and scrutinized Jane. “I think we can. If not, we can always shoot her.”

“Agreed,” I said. “You be nice or we'll shoot you.”

Jane leaped forward, and before I could protest, gripped me in a bear hug. Pain rocketed through my entire body and seemed to discharge through the bottom of my feet.

“Ouch!”

Jane let go. “I’m so sorry. I just got excited. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Go hug Louise, or anything else, if that will move you out of my way.”

She laughed and stepped aside.

There could never be anywhere more inviting than your own front door. The troubles of the world dissipated like magic, each time my feet landed on our welcome mat. I stood for a moment and breathed in the clean, fall, air. The tension of the past few days ebbed.

Before I’d made an effort to find the key, Gavin swung open the door. KC stood next to him wagging his tail. The little mutt actually seemed happy to see me. Gavin helped me inside like a little old woman. I forgave him for making me feel old, the instant my nose registered the delectable smell of Gavin’s world-famous, grilled, lemon chicken salad.

He took the purse from my shoulder, and tossed it under the table in the entryway.

He laid a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Are you hungry?”

“I wasn’t, but I am now.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together in his best Mr. Burns impersonation. “Did you have a good day?”

“I did. After I got off the phone with you, we wrapped the Luther case.”

Gavin pulled out one of the heavy oak dining room chairs and helped ease me in. KC curled up on the floor next to me. On the table in front of me were a Diet Coke, and a bottle of Western dressing.

He knows me so well
.

“That’s wonderful news,” he said. “Your mother’s been calling all afternoon. She’s a little miffed that you cut her off this morning.”

“Poor, Dad.” I took a sip of Coke. “Sometimes I wonder why he married her.”

“I’m glad he did.” Gavin set a big bowl of lettuce in front of me. I helped myself to a large serving and smothered the plate with dressing. “If he didn’t marry your mother, I wouldn’t have you.”

“Even if I don’t hear you when you talk about work?” I tilted my chin down, and gave him my best puppy-dog eyes.

He tweaked the end of my nose. “Even in spite of that fact.”

Dressing dripped down the front of my shirt with the first fork-full of food.

“And in spite of your table manners.”

I flicked a gob of salad dressing at him. The orange goo landed just under his left eye.

He wiped the dressing away. “I see we’re feeling better this afternoon.”

I giggled. Then a large piece of lettuce hit the side of my face with a wet smack.