Dana Marton - Broslin Creek 05 - Broslin Bride (7 page)

People driving through town drove down Route 1. They didn’t get into the neighborhoods to wind their way through back alleys. Yeah, people got lost. But at this stage, that was the less likely scenario. He thought it more likely that the killer was someone local.

Maybe somebody who regularly took the alley as a shortcut. Or maybe one of last night’s bar patrons, Chase thought. He needed to go in tonight once the place opened, and ask around. The Finnegans would cooperate without giving him any trouble. Maybe he’d ask Harper to go with him, just to make everything go smoother.

Harper would want to be there if somebody was questioning his parents.

So, hit-and-run. Hit, hide, and run, technically. The driver had gotten out and covered the body in garbage bags. Maybe someone who’d been driving drunk?

He tried not to think how bleary-eyed Luanne had looked when she’d walked into the motel this morning.

He finished his initial report, then uploaded the crime scene photos. A messy, dark back alley. The body from every angle. Nothing in the pictures jumped out at him as a screaming clue.

Accidental hit-and-run with a cover-up.

There
was
, of course another option. That the hit had been planned and Earl specifically targeted. Motive, means, and opportunity, Luanne had all three, but so could any number of others.
 

He didn’t like Luanne’s name as the only one on his suspect list. He was determined to expand that list significantly before the day was over.

He rifled through his notes until he found the motel owners’ phone number. Mildred and Harold Cosgrove were originally from Unionville. They’d bought the motel twenty years ago as an investment, run it for fifteen years before they retired and moved to Rising Sun, Maryland, to be closer to their daughter and grandchildren. Earl Cosgrove had been hired at that point to take over, and he’d been managing the place for the past four years.

Chase dialed the number and waited until someone picked up, then introduced himself to Mildred Cosgrove on the other end.

Her voice was thick as if she’d been crying. “I’ve been expecting a call. Veronica told me what happened to Earl.” She sniffed. “I just can’t believe it.” She sniffed again. “Harold and I are driving up tomorrow.”

“I’d appreciate if you could give me a call when you get here.” He’d meant to talk to them over the phone, but in person would be better.

“Do you know who…?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Not yet, ma’am. But we’re doing everything we can to catch the perpetrator. I have a couple of questions I’d like to ask when you get here, but in the meanwhile, I’d appreciate it if I could have access to the motel’s employee records.” Technically, he needed a warrant for that, unless Mildred volunteered it, but he was pretty sure she would.

She sniffed again. “Of course. Harold has everything on the computer. He can probably e-mail the files.”

“Thank you.” He dictated his work e-mail address. Waited a beat. “You wouldn’t know anyone he’d been fighting with, would you? Any enemies?”

Mildred sniffed louder. “I don’t think so. He ran the motel, but we weren’t that close, I’m sorry to say. I’ll ask Harold when he gets home. If he knows something, I’ll let you know.”

After they hung up, he went through all the information he had up to this point—none of which looked good for Luanne. But things improved once Harold sent Earl Cosgrove’s employee record fifteen minutes later.

Among all the basic information, Chase quickly found what he was looking for. Earl had life insurance through his workplace. The beneficiaries were his three ex-wives, probably so they could take care of the kids if something happened to Earl and the child support checks stopped coming. Okay, so the man wasn’t a total jerk in every area of his life. At least he cared about his kids.

Chase updated his report, doing his best to tune out the two men in their thirties who staggered into the police station, dragging each other.

“I want you to arrest this idiot bastard. He shit on my front porch!” the taller one shouted, face contorted with rage. He wore ripped jeans and a wrinkled blue shirt that had seen better days.

“Your dog shits all over my yard every day.” The other one—ripped shirt, plaid shorts—shoved his buddy.

“Calm down, please,” Leila said when they reached reception.

The tall one thumped a fist on the counter. “I want to make a police report. I stepped in that shit!”

Chase checked out the floor behind them, the questionable footprints. Made a mental note to walk around them when he left.

“Good, you deserved it. My kids can’t play in my yard because of your stupid dog.” The short guy swung and missed, knocking the pot of lucky bamboo off the counter. Miracle of miracles, the pot didn’t shatter.

Leila snapped to standing, her eyes narrowing, chin down, hands on her hips. “Calm the hell down, I said!”

Her voice cut through the office, quieted the men for a second, but only for a second. The tall one stuck his head forward and got right into Leila’s face.

Her eyes narrowed to dangerous levels. The air seemed to vibrate around her.

“It’s all fun and games until someone gets her foot up his ass,” Gabi murmured at her desk, and rose to keep the idiots from coming to harm.

Chase grinned as he pushed to his feet. “Leila would never risk her footwear like that. I’ll take care of it. I’m heading out anyway.”

As Gabi sat back down, he grabbed the evidence envelope and walked up to reception. “Do we have two open holding cells?”

The men’s heads whipped around.

“Wait a minute,” the short one sputtered. “I’m here to make a report.”

“I’m here to take you back for disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace,” Chase said calmly. “Plus battery.” He looked at the blood on short guy’s lip and on tall guy’s brow.

Leila sat, not entirely able to wipe the smug off her face. “I’ll put that call in for Animal Control. We have leash laws in Broslin.”

Chase nodded. The PD didn’t get involved with animals unless abuse was involved, but these two dumbasses didn’t need to know that. “Once you bring the police in the middle of something, we do look at every little detail,” he told them, his voice holding nothing but kindness. “You came to the right place. Every detail of this will be fully investigated.”

“That’s what we do,” Leila added in cheerfully.

Chase gestured toward the back. “Let’s go back to holding. I can take down your complaints about the dog shit there. All the cells have benches. You’ll be more comfortable sitting.”

The tall one ducked his head. The short one looked at his feet, hands shoved into his pockets. They suddenly looked sheepish, the wind gone from their sails.

Chase shrugged. “Or you can just have a discussion and come to an agreement like reasonable adults. Split the cost of a fence. Tell Ed at the lumberyard I sent you, and he’ll give you a discount.”

Tall guy slinked one step back, then another.

Short guy turned with a frustrated gesture and marched out of there. Seeing his escape go unchallenged, his buddy quickly followed.

Chase shook his head as he picked up the lucky bamboo and set the pot back on the counter. “I’m driving over to the lab. In case anyone’s looking for me. Then I’m heading over to Downingtown to interview Earl’s second ex-wife.”

Leila cast a dark look toward the door. “They’re lucky they didn’t make me mad.”

Chase had a feeling that would happen when she discovered the questionable footprints. Best not be here at that point. He headed for the door, keeping to the clean surfaces.

Half an hour to the lab in West Chester, fifteen minutes there—he put a rush order in—half an hour to Cathy Cosgrove’s house.

He found her, a sporty brunette, unpacking travel bags from the back of her car in the driveway, her face stricken. Her two teenage daughters were crying. They looked just like their mother, all three wearing Girl Scout uniforms.

Chase introduced himself and noted her blue SUV. No damage.

“We came home as soon as we heard.” Cathy sounded exhausted. She invited him in, and he helped her carry the bags inside. “Do you have any suspects?” she asked, shaking her head over and over again. She waited until the girls went upstairs with their backpacks before saying, “Earl wasn’t the best man I’ve ever known,” she lowered her voice, “but he didn’t deserve this.”

“No, ma’am.”

She buried her face in her hands for a second, then dropped them, drawing a deep breath. “Do you have any idea who or why?”

“Not yet. Did he have any enemies?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “We haven’t been very close since the divorce. Since Chloe got her license, she’s been driving herself and her sister over to Broslin when they wanted to spend time with him. I don’t think I’ve even seen him yet this year.”

Chase glanced at the bags on the floor. “May I ask where you’ve been?”

“Week-long camping meet for the Girl Scouts over in Jersey.”

“You stayed there the whole time? Didn’t run home for anything?”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask,” he prefaced the next question. “Could you tell me where you were last night?”

She swallowed. “At the midnight hike with the girls.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

“About a hundred people. I can give you names and phone numbers.”

“A few would be enough. I’m sorry.” Chase didn’t want to sound as if he was accusing her of anything. Maybe she no longer loved Earl, but he’d been the father of her daughters, and their grief had to hurt her.

She grabbed an empty envelope from her coffee table, turned it over, scrolled through her phone, and began writing down numbers. “You need to eliminate people so you can find the one who did this. I understand.”

“I appreciate it.”

He liked working with nice people. Truly most people were honest and accommodating. The troublemakers were the exception to the rule. You got the kind of energy out of an interaction that you put in. His SOP was to solve problems politely, either with humor or gentle coaxing. No sense escalating anything into an outright confrontation, usually not even when he was faced with criminals.

On his way back to Broslin, he called all four of Cathy’s scouting friends and confirmed her alibi, then mentally crossed the woman off his suspect list.

Then he called the first ex-wife, who ran a staffing agency in Myrtle Beach, April Cosgrove, now April Barton, remarried. The housekeeper informed him that Mr. and Mrs. Barton were on their second honeymoon in Paris and had been there for the past ten days. Chase had to confirm with airline records, but if that checked out, he’d have to cross April off his suspect list too.

Which would once again have only one name on it: Luanne.

He was tempted to curse.

Since that wouldn’t have helped anything, instead he called Harper on his way back to Broslin. “I’m heading over to Finnegan’s if you want to be there.”

“I’m already over here. Anything new?” Harper sounded sleepy. He’d had the night shift too, but had the morning off today.

“Not much yet. I’m still interviewing people.” Chase didn’t want to make a big deal about the samples he’d collected from the Mustang until he knew for sure that he had something.

“I want in on this case.”

“Like the captain told you, conflict of interest.” The murder had happened on property owned by Harper’s parents.

Harper swore, plenty of bristle in his voice as he said, “I want to be updated on every new clue. And if anyone talks to my folks, I’m going to be here with them.”

“Which is why I called you before I headed that way.” Harper was a friend. Chase saw no need to antagonize him. If his mother was in the same situation, he’d be acting the same.

He grabbed lunch from a drive-through, then headed over to Finnegan’s. He preferred Rose’s famous potato soup, but asking the person you were questioning for a bowl of soup didn’t seem professional. He finished his burger long before he reached the bar.

Only three cars sat in the parking lot: Sean Finnegan’s pickup, Harper Finnegan’s SUV, and a beat-up old Ford Focus. Chase checked the front of each, then checked out the back alley one more time before going inside.

The place wasn’t open, but Sean and Rose Finnegan were there, as well as Tayron the bartender, setting up behind the bar, all looking pretty grim. Harper, tall, reddish-blond hair, Irish down to his toes, leaned against the wall in the corner, glowering. He wore civilian clothes, jeans, and a green T-shirt with the bar’s logo on it. He nodded at Chase.

“Chase.” Sean, the older Finnegan, gave a friendly greeting. “I’ve been expecting your call.” Either due to good genes or Guinness, he looked twenty years younger than his age. He could have been Harper’s slightly older brother. They looked alike in every way.

“I had plenty to do this morning. Figured I could wait until you were here to get ready for opening. I might come back later tonight to talk to some patrons.”

Sean nodded. “Any news?”

“Still in the information-gathering phase,” Chase told him. “Were you here last night?”

Sean Finnegan offered a half smile. “Took Rose on a date. Fortieth wedding anniversary. Any man who values his hide better make a big deal out of these things.”

Sean and Rose Finnegan were made for each other, a small-town love story. She had plenty of fire left in her, even at sixty—slim figure, startling blue eyes, short hair in a fashionable cut—and Finnegan was smart enough to appreciate it. The couple reminded Chase of his own parents, before his father had passed away.

Now his mother was lonely. Of course she was. He made a mental note to stay a little after he fixed her dishwasher tonight. Maybe they could watch a movie together and have a chat about the matchmaking that was getting out of hand lately. All right, so he was the age where guys started to get married. But it wasn’t as if he had one foot in the grave. He had plenty of time. If only he could convince his mother to quit pushing.
 

“I’m going to need the credit card receipts for last night,” he told Sean. “Need to come up with a list of everyone who was here last night.” He paused. “I’m not going to lie to you. I probably couldn’t get a warrant, since neither the bar nor any of the patrons have been implicated so far, but having a list of who was here would sure make my life easier.”