Poisonous: A Novel (42 page)

“You could be right. But the specialists I brought in believe that she was pushed. And Thursday morning someone shot and killed Travis Whitman.”

Austin jumped. “Travis? Like, shot with a gun? Why?”

“We don’t know.”

“Because of Ivy?”

“Austin!”

Both Max and Austin turned toward the entrance. Paula Wallace stood there with an attractive man in a suit who Max presumed was her husband Bill. He resembled his engagement photo from the newspaper, just older.

Austin jumped up. “Why are you here?”

“Because Bill’s son is in trouble,” Paula said.

Austin looked at Max. “Is that true?”

“No,” Max said. “Detective Martin is straightening it out.”

“Get away from my son, Ms. Revere,” Paula said.

“Stop, please,” Austin pleaded. “This isn’t Max’s fault.”

Bill said, “Ms. Revere, I’m Bill Wallace. It seems your presence is disturbing my wife and son. If you could step into another area, that would be for the best.”

Max turned to him and straightened her spine. “And you’re the diplomat?”

He stared at her, his eyes hard even though his expression was mild. She saw the lawyer beneath the pleasant demeanor.

She didn’t budge. Bill Wallace was everything she hated. A liar. A cheat. Destructive and selfish and manipulative. Just like her uncle Brooks. Just like so many men that came in and out of her mother’s life. For ten years, she’d dealt with men like Brooks and Bill, and she was not giving any of them one single inch.

How did women fall for selfish pricks like this? Did they think they could change their man, that he cheated for some reason other than he was a selfish adulterer? Why didn’t Paula fear Bill was cheating on her? Did she even care?

“Austin!” Paula exclaimed. “Come here now.”

The desk sergeant approached. “If you can’t keep it down, I’m going to have to ask you all to leave the facility.”

“Let’s take this outside,” Bill Wallace said to Max.

“No,” Max said.

“I should tell you that my lawyers are drawing up a lawsuit as we speak regarding your libelous show,” he said.

“Libel? Do you know the definition?”

He bristled.

Max said, “You must not have seen the segment. If you had, you wouldn’t even mention the L word.” Max kept her voice quiet. “You’re just angry because you have no idea what’s going on in the lives of your children.”

“I will not have my family exploited. You have no idea who I am.”

“Don’t worry, I think I’ve got your number,” Max said with confidence.

“Just who the hell do you think you are?” he shouted, his composure cracking. Good, she wanted him to snap.

“You’ll have to leave,” the officer approached again. “Now.”

Max turned and walked away from Bill Wallace. She had so much she wanted to say. Ten years ago she would have verbally gone after him. Hell, six
months
ago she would have skewered him. Without much effort, she could tear anyone down. All those years growing up in a large extended family who could quietly and with great class insult anyone.

But David had gotten through to her, and now she was closely watching Austin. For better or worse, these were his parents. If Max humiliated them—which they richly deserved—Austin would witness their downfall. And would that make Max any better than their daughter who had basked in the popularity of embarrassing her peers?

“Paula,” Bill said, “take Austin home. I’ll handle this situation with Tommy.”

“I’m not leaving,” Austin said.

“You will do as I say or you’ll be grounded.”

“Austin, listen to your father.”

“He’s not my father!”

“Don’t do this here, Austin. Not in public.”

Grace Martin walked briskly down the hall toward them. Jenny and Tommy were behind her. Jenny had been crying and Tommy looked thoroughly upset. When he saw his father standing in the lobby of the police station, he froze.

Jenny did not. She brushed past Grace and came straight at her ex. But she addressed Paula. “It wasn’t enough that you had to steal my family, but you had to make my son feel like he was garbage.”

“Jenny, now is not the time,” Bill said.

“It’s never the time! You’re a big hotshot lawyer, but you avoid confrontation with the people who matter. Tommy
matters!
A restraining order? Really?”

“That’s not settled. As I told you over the phone, we’ll sit down on Monday and work things out.”

“Why didn’t you just move to Seattle? It would be better for Tommy and Amanda to have a father they see twice a year than a father who lives two miles away and never wants them around.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

Grace used her fingers to whistle. “Time out. We have more serious matters to attend to than your dysfunctional family. Mrs. Wallace—” Both Paula and Jenny looked at her. “Jenny,” Grace corrected, “you will go with Officer Blanchard and write out your statement as we discussed, then you and Tommy are free to leave.”

Tommy stood on the edge of the group. He said quietly, “I’m not going home.”

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” said Jenny. “The nice detective said it’s okay.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m not stupid!”

“Of course you aren’t. Don’t say that.”

“You lied. I don’t—I can’t—just leave me alone.”

“Honey—”

Tommy brushed off her hand and moved away from her. By the look on Jenny’s face, it was the first time he’d done such a thing.

Grace said, “Let’s get the statements signed first. Jenny?”

Jenny looked thoroughly confused and upset when her son turned his back on her. Half in a daze, she followed an officer to a desk in the middle of the bullpen.

Grace turned to Bill Wallace. “Sir, do you still own a nine millimeter handgun?”

“What’s this about?”

“Answer the question, please.”

Another detective approached them and whispered in Grace’s ear. She nodded, then made introductions. “This is Detective Juan Jimenez. He’s assisting my investigation into the murder of Travis Whitman. I’d like you both to come with us so we can ask you a few questions.”

Bill said, “Questions about what?”

“Your gun and where it is.”

Paula put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. That’s what this is. That’s why Jenny called you. Tommy stole your gun and shot Travis.”

Grace stared at her. If she said half of what Max wanted to say, she’d probably be fired.

“Let me handle this, Paula,” Bill said, clearly angry with Paula for her outburst as well as with the detective for the question. “Detective Martin, you may call my attorney and he will arrange a time and place for us to discuss this matter.”

Max’s phone was vibrating. She glanced at it quickly. David. She’d call him right back—she wanted to hear more about this gun.

It appeared the Wallaces’ gun might have been used to shoot Travis Whitman.

Jimenez, an attractive detective who looked like a taller, skinnier, younger Ricky Martin, said, “We found a nine millimeter gun at the scene of Travis Whitman’s homicide that at first we believed was unregistered, but upon further examination, the last serial number was misread by the technician. We confirmed that it is registered to William E. Wallace of Corte Madera. Ballistics just came back that confirms the gun was used to shoot and kill Travis Whitman. You’re welcome to bring in your attorney, but we would like to ask you some questions right now.”

“My gun is locked and secure in my home,” said Bill.

“When was the last time you laid eyes on your firearm?”

Bill didn’t answer. He’d been thrown for a loop. But it didn’t take him long to recover. “I need to know exactly what you think and what you’re trying to learn.
If
it was my firearm, then it was stolen.”

“And you didn’t report the theft?”

“I didn’t know about the theft until now.”

“Who has access to your gun?”

“I see what you’re trying to do. You can talk to my attorney, I am not answering any more questions. Paula, Austin, we’re leaving.”

Grace said, “No.”

“You cannot detain us.”

“I can detain Austin. He just gave me a statement related to your daughter’s murder, and I need him to read and sign it.”

“He’s a minor. You may not interview him without my consent or his attorney present,” said Bill. “Anything he said to you is inadmissible in court.”

A civilian staff member approached Jimenez and handed him a file folder, then turned his back to the others and spoke to the detective in a low voice. Everyone watched as Jimenez opened the folder, flipped through two pages, closed it and handed it back. “Go to the DA and get a warrant immediately for the chat room logs and identity.”

Grace glanced at him. He said, “We processed Travis Whitman’s phone records. We don’t have access to the comments, but Travis engaged in a conversation through the ChatMe app. He downloaded the app Tuesday, but his account was created over a year ago.”

“What does any of this have to do with us?” Paula said.

“Let’s discuss this privately,” Grace said.

“I’m not talking without my lawyer,” said Bill.

“This isn’t an interview. I need to give you information, and if you don’t mind everyone here knowing your business, then I’m happy to talk about it here. Your gun was used to kill a high school student. I would think we all want answers.”

Paula drew in her breath. Bill was skeptical. “If I believe that the conversation is veering off into another direction, I will end it.”

“Fair enough,” Grace said.

Max was impressed with Grace’s control.

Grace said to Austin, “Sit over there with your brother.”

“Tommy is not his brother,” Paula said.

Austin glared at his mother with such a deep hatred, Max didn’t know how they were going to ever come back from this.

Paula either didn’t care or didn’t notice her son’s reaction. She said, “I’m filing a restraining order against Tommy Wallace. I don’t want him anywhere near my son.”

Grace said to the desk sergeant, “Keep an eye on the boys.”

Bill looked at Max. “She’s not coming with us.”

Grace glanced at Max and gave her a slight shake. Max hadn’t expected to be allowed into the room, but if they hadn’t said anything, she would have followed.

When the four of them went up the stairs, she turned to Tommy and Austin. “Tommy, I know you’re upset, but you need to forgive your mother and Austin. They love you.”

“They
lied
to me. Because they think I hurt Ivy. And maybe I did.”

“I didn’t lie to you!” Austin said. “And you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Max was thinking about the gun. She didn’t think Bill Wallace would have killed Travis, and if he had, why would he use his own gun and then leave it at the scene? Bill was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid.

Paula? She was definitely not as bright as her husband, but certainly would know not to leave a weapon at the scene of the crime. And what would her motive be to kill Travis? That she thought he killed her daughter? Except she’d made it clear that she thought Tommy had done it. Maybe she thought she could frame Tommy. But that seemed … unlikely.

Austin would have had access to the gun. Where was he early Thursday morning? He made a habit of disappearing and sneaking out of the house. It wouldn’t take much for a prosecutor to go after him for murder. Travis had left his house before dawn. He’d been killed before school. Austin could have lured him to the marsh and killed him … maybe because of what Travis knew about Ivy’s death that he’d been holding back from the police and from Max.

She squatted in front of the boys. Tommy refused to look at Austin. Max put her hand on Austin’s knee and said, “Look me in the eye.”

He did. He was defiant, but he was also frightened. Why? Because of the gun or because Tommy wouldn’t talk to him?

“Did you take your father’s gun?”

He looked thoroughly confused. “No. Why would I? Oh, God, you think I killed Travis.”

“Did you give the gun to anyone else?”

“No—I don’t even know the code to his lockbox. And I wouldn’t take it. Do you really think I’d do something like that?”

“No, but I wanted you to say it.”

“But they’re going to think it’s Tommy. They’re going to blame Tommy.”

“No, they’re not. Austin, pull yourself together. You’re mature, but you’re still a kid. Do not talk to the police about this without a lawyer.”

“I didn’t take the damn gun.”

“I believe you. But you need a lawyer to protect your rights. Trust me. You should have had one when you told Grace about Ivy cutting herself. David and I told you last night—”

“I know what you said, I just want this to be over with. And I don’t want some lawyer that Bill controls. I don’t want anything from him. I hate him!”

Tommy flinched, but didn’t say anything.

“I can find you a lawyer if you want,” Max said.

Austin didn’t say anything. Max wasn’t certain what the laws were related to minors and lawyers. She knew that they had a right to an attorney in any criminal investigation or questioning, but did they have a right to hire someone separate from whom their parents wanted?

“I’m going to make some calls and find out what your options are. From here on out, Austin, tell the truth. Only the truth. Half-truths and omissions are considered lies at this point, got it?”

He nodded.

Max turned to Tommy and squeezed his knee. “It’s going to get better, Tommy.”

He looked at her with sad eyes and her heart broke.

“My mom wants to move far away,” he said in a whisper. “I don’t want to go.”

“I’m sorry, Tommy. Let’s get through this, and maybe things will change.”

“My mom thinks I killed Ivy.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Then why didn’t she tell the truth about my sleepwalking that night?”

“People do the wrong things for the right reasons.”

“She said she wanted to protect me, but that means she thinks I did it. Else she wouldn’t need to protect me.”

“I think it’s more complicated than that,” Max said, but didn’t know how to explain it. She stood up and her knees cracked from squatting for so long. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”