Death Deserved (A Detective Jackson Mystery) (24 page)

CHAPTER 33

Saturday, December 5, 9:05 a.m.

Evans turned on her computer and sat down at her desk. Jackson hadn’t insisted she take time off yet, so she intended to keep working. The shooter was still out there, and so was the lying 911 caller. The window of opportunity for finding both was closing fast.

Late the night before, they’d booked Paul Gibson on multiple charges, including murder, attempted murder, and obstruction of justice. He claimed his wife’s death had been an accidental honey poisoning, but a jury would have to decide if that was true. Her frozen body was in the morgue, and the county pathologist would do an autopsy in a few days when it thawed. For now, Evans was focused on Josh Stalling’s murder. Or she was supposed to be. Conner Harron still haunted her. She had to accept that she might never know who made the call that led to his death. But she wasn’t giving up just yet. She had contacted his sister and left a message, still hoping to learn more about Harron.

This morning, she planned to study Shanna McCoy’s financial documents. A judge had granted them a limited search for both of her businesses, and the bank had sent documents over late the afternoon before. Evans finally noticed the paperwork on the fax machine after Jackson had taken Gibson to jail and told her to go home. This morning, Jackson, Quince, and Schak were out searching Gibson’s home more thoroughly, and the task force planned to meet again this afternoon. She hoped to find something solid they could use to pressure or convict McCoy.

After checking her email, Evans grabbed the stack of papers and her coffee and headed for the conference room, where she could spread out if she needed to. An hour-long search produced nothing except documentation that McCoy’s spa netted only around twenty grand a year, and that she was behind on payments for a seventy-thousand-dollar business loan. That had to be for the nursery building and start-up equipment. No financial documents for Riverside Farms existed.

Time to get back to basics. Evans opened a file and started with the crime scene photos. Only Stalling’s body was in the pictures, because the DEA agent had been taken to the hospital. And a room full of tall, lush marijuana plants. They knew now that either Stalling, his sister, or both had been trafficking in illegal drugs. But since the courier had shown up at the scheduled meeting, it seemed unlikely their supplier had killed Stalling. A rival drug dealer?

Evans kept flipping through the photos and came to the ones taken inside the house. Jackson had shot a dozen of the attic, where the stolen property had been stashed. She made a note to call the evidence-locker captain and ask if his team had connected any of the items to recent crimes.

Except for the attic, the house had been fairly free of clutter, and had a limited amount of furniture. Photos of the bedroom focused mostly on the space under the floorboards where they’d found the cash. Stalling’s friend Darby Sigler had claimed the money was for a down payment to buy the pot-growing business, but maybe it was drug-trafficking money. Evans flipped past the close-ups of the box of cash. The next picture included the dresser where the knife collection had been found. What were those things on the dresser? Awards?

Evans hurried back to her desk and accessed the crime-scene images from the digital file. Clicking through until she found the one she wanted took too long, and she gritted her teeth. Finally, the dresser appeared on her screen, and she enlarged the photo. Basketball trophies. Just like the ones she’d seen in Conner Harron’s garage. She leaned in and read the inscription.
Churchill Lancers.
The same school. Evans glanced at the summarized case notes. Josh Stalling was thirty-eight. So was Conner Harron. She’d seen his driver’s license.

What the hell?
The two men had played basketball on the same team in high school. That wasn’t surprising in itself. A lot of locals never left Eugene and stayed friends for life. But these two men had died within days of each other. Both shot down. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Especially considering her theory that someone had targeted Harron deliberately with a SWAT call. Someone who knew he had guns and would react badly. She hadn’t shared that theory with the team yet, partly because other shit kept happening, but mostly because she knew it would sound a little far reaching. She worried that the guys would think she was looking to blame someone else for Harron’s shooting. But now, she’d found this connection. She had to probe it further. Because if two members of the old team were dead, maybe a third one—or someone connected to them—had killed both. Maybe Stalling’s death had nothing to do with his pot-growing job.

Had Stalling and Harron stayed in touch all these years? Where the hell were their cell phones? Jackson had Stalling’s phone, and Bruckner had been the last one to handle Harron’s phone. No, wait, she’d picked it up when she’d visited Harron’s house but had gone for a run when she got home, then crashed.
Oh hell.
Was it still in the pocket of the jacket she’d worn yesterday? She would have to drive home for it. Evans stood and called Harron’s sister again. This time Lynn Harron answered.

“Detective Evans. Do you have a moment?”

“Why is this important? I’m trying to plan a funeral service and make sense of my brother’s financial stuff. Can it wait?”

“I’m trying to make sense of your brother’s
death
. So no, it can’t wait. I need to speak with you in person.”

“I told you, I’m busy. I’m grieving. And I’m mad as hell at the police for shooting him.”

Guilt ripped through Evans. Should she tell the sister she’d been the one to shoot him? No, that would be counterproductive. No one outside the department ever needed to know. Why the hell had she told Sophie? But she had to say something. “I’m angry too. I think someone called in a false report about Conner.” Evans stopped there, hoping to prompt Lynn.

“I knew it! Conner had problems, but he’d never threatened anyone with a gun.”

“Who would want to harass him that way?” Evans grabbed her shoulder bag and headed out. She needed to keep moving.

“I have no idea. Conner owed a lot of money, but the few friends he had really liked him.”

“Do you know Josh Stalling?”

“I used to. He was one of Conner’s best friends all through school. I saw on the news that he’d been shot. It made me sad. Then Conner was killed too.” The sister pulled in a quick breath to hold back a sob.

“Had they stayed in touch?”

“For a few years after high school, but then Josh went to jail and Conner joined the military, and they drifted apart.” Lynn Harron broke down and cried. “It’s so fucking tragic. They were both still so young. Yeah, they’d screwed up their lives, but so what?”

“How did Conner screw up his life?” He didn’t have a record except the domestic-assault charge.

“He ruined his marriage. He couldn’t manage money. And he had to take all kinds of medications just to get through the day. It’s mostly because of the goddamn war, but Conner struggled even before he enlisted.”

Was his ex-wife bitter enough to have made the call? “What happened with his marriage?”

“They fought about money all the time. And about how to raise their son.” A hesitation. “Loni claimed Conner was abusive sometimes too, and she pressed charges once and sent him to jail for a while. But I think she exaggerated.”

“Is his ex-wife the vindictive type?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

Evans would check her out, if she could find the time. “What’s Loni’s last name?”

“Marquette. It’s her family name. She never changed it, and that bothered Conner too.”

This would be a tough question. “Any idea who might want Conner dead?”

“What do you mean? I thought you said the 911 call was a prank.”

“It probably was. I’m just trying to figure this out.”

“Oh hell.” The sister sobbed so hard, Evans had to take out her earpiece.

Finally, Lynn was under control. “Sorry. Somehow his death is harder to take thinking that it was on purpose, that someone wanted him dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad you care enough to investigate. I wish I could help you.”

“Tell me who else Conner and Josh hung out with in high school.”

“That was a long time ago. But there was a third guy on the team they considered a best friend. The three were even roommates for a while after high school while they went to Lane Community.”

“I need his name.”

“His first name began with a
V
. Vince or Victor something. But Conner didn’t meet him until high school. And I was out of the house by then, so I didn’t know him personally like I did Josh. That kid was at our house all the time.”

“Do you have a high school yearbook you could look at?”

“Maybe. I have to go. I’ll call you back.” Lynn hung up.

The third friend was intriguing, but the lead didn’t mean anything unless he had some kind of motive. What the hell could it be? Keeping the other two quiet about something he’d done as a teenager? But why now? She had to get her hands on a Lancer yearbook that included the season Harron had received the basketball trophy. Stalling or Harron might have a copy. She had access to both houses. But she had to talk to Loni Marquette first. If Harron had partial custody of their child or even visitation, his ex-wife might have decided her life would be simpler if the kid’s father were permanently out of the picture. She wouldn’t be the first spouse to conclude that.

After a quick Google search, Evans found Loni Marquette on LinkedIn. She worked as a hair stylist at a day spa called Solar Beach. Evans called the spa, asked to speak with Loni, and was informed she was with a client.
Excellent.
Evans shut down her computer and jogged to her car. This wouldn’t take long, so no need to feel guilty about investigating Harron instead of Stalling. She would stop by Riverside Farms afterward to look for a yearbook, then pick up Harron’s phone. And still make it back to the department before the rest of the team did.

CHAPTER 34

The salon was just off the corner of Eighteenth and Chambers, an older building that had been renovated and decorated with a tropical theme. A chest-high L-shaped counter took up most of the entry space. Evans introduced herself to the friendly long-haired woman who greeted her. Probably the owner. The woman was middle-aged and too happy to be just a receptionist. “I need to speak with Loni.”

“She’s with a client, but it should only be another few minutes. Can I get you some coffee?”

“Sure. Black is fine.” Evans glanced around. The space was long and narrow, and a sign listed a variety of services: hair, nails, massage, tanning, and heat wraps—whatever those were. The business had a good vibe, friendlier than one of those high-end places staffed by gorgeous young women in tight dresses who made customers feel old and ugly in comparison.

The proprietor came back with coffee and said Loni would be out in a moment. And she was. A petite woman with an asymmetrical dark haircut, the ex-wife approached her with a nervous look. “Is this about Conner?”

“Yes. Where can we talk in private?”

“This way.” Loni led her to a laundry room.

The strangest space Evans had ever conducted an interview. But at least the machines were quiet at the moment. “I assume you’ve heard about your ex-husband’s death?”

“Of course. Our son is devastated.”

“But you’re not?”

The woman looked offended. “I’m sad for Conner, but we’ve been divorced for years, and I have a new boyfriend.”

“Were you having problems with Conner? Custody issues?”

“Not anymore. We worked it out long ago. The only problem was that Conner was sometimes too agitated or depressed to spend time with Caleb. It made me hurt for both of them, but it wasn’t a problem for me personally.” Loni narrowed her gaze. “Why are you asking?”

“I’m just trying to make sense of Conner’s death.” Evans shifted positions, suddenly annoyed by the small, crowded space. “Had Conner threatened you lately?”

“No.”

“Was he abusive during your marriage?”

The ex let out a big sigh. “Sometimes he got physical when we fought. Grabbing and pushing, but nothing crazy. I regret pressing charges. Why is this coming up? I read that he was shot by a SWAT member after having a bad morning.”

A stab of guilt every time someone said it out loud. “Did you know Conner to threaten people? Particularly with a weapon?”

“Not with a gun.” She gave a small shrug. “But he could be intimidating to others when he was agitated.”

Evans found it hard to believe this woman had wanted to harm her ex, but she had to ask. “Where were you Thursday morning?”

Loni looked both confused and worried. “Right here. Why?”

“Do you know Josh Stalling?”

“No. Who is he?”

“Do you own a prepaid phone?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

Evans believed her. “Thanks for your time.” She opened the door, hurried down the hall, and left the building. Once in her car, she realized she hadn’t offered her condolences. Another mistake. But she was in a hurry now. She pulled into traffic and headed toward River Road.

She turned into Stalling’s driveway, thinking the house was already starting to look abandoned. No cars were in view, newspapers were piled up on the porch, and the grass had sprouted weeds. What would happen to this place when McCoy went to prison? Neither of the siblings had children, so there didn’t seem to be an heir. Would it just sit here, unclaimed? Was death the explanation for some of the empty abandoned homes around town? Evans shook off the gloom she’d been feeling since shooting Conner Harron and trotted up to the porch. The key was under an empty clay pot where Quince had stashed it after finding it on a key chain in the kitchen. Someone had already torn down the crime-scene tape. Who had been back here? Jackson?

Inside the house, she headed straight for the bedroom and looked at the basketball trophies up close. Yep. Same year, same team. After taking a few snapshots, she looked around. Where would Stalling have kept a yearbook? She hadn’t spotted a bookshelf in her first crime-scene search, and she didn’t remember seeing any high school stuff. But Jackson had sent her to the hospital to question the wounded victim, so she hadn’t been present for the whole search. The dresser? She rifled through the drawers, then moved to the closet. Stalling had a few sentimental items—such as a kid’s baseball glove and a collection of basketball jerseys—but no books. The sports angle surprised her. Who would have figured the pot grower with a problem-filled past had once been an athlete?

An open box on the top shelf caught her attention. Evans pulled it down, noticing the items were in disarray. Schak or Quince had already rummaged through it. A few toys, childhood drawings, and a collection of comic books. Under the comics were two blue yearbooks.
Yes!
The dates indicated these were from Stalling’s junior and senior years. She flipped quickly through the pages, looking for group shots of basketball players. She found one of the whole team, but it didn’t help her pinpoint the third friend in the trio. In the back, she found the individual photos in alphabetical order. She found Conner Harron first, a handsome young man with longish hair and a crooked smile. Several pages later, she spotted Josh Stalling. Boy, had he changed in twenty years. He’d lost a lot of hair in front and gained thirty pounds. How to find the third friend?

Inscriptions! Maybe the other player had signed the book or even written something. Evans turned to the back page, and a photo slipped out. She scooped it off the floor and stared. Three young men in blue-and-white basketball uniforms stood next to a row of lockers. Stalling, Harron, and a third young man with dark hair and eyes. She knew the face but couldn’t place it. Evans flipped the photo over, looking for a label, and found a message signed by the third player.

Holy shit!