Dark Passing (The Ella Reynolds Series) (21 page)

“Any luck with the case?”

I gave a noncommittal shrug and thought about her being on my new witness list. “How well did you know Mary?”

“Not very. I met her a couple times, but I wouldn’t say we were close.”

“Where’d you meet her?”

Deanna studied her boots and shivered as she took a long drag on her cigarette. “You know, around,” she said in a weak voice.

“You can tell me, Deanna. I’m trying to help Mary, not get anyone in trouble.”

She looked up with liquid eyes and opened her mouth to speak.

“Break’s over, Deanna,” Fagan barked from the doorway.

She cringed and blinked a few times before putting her cigarette out and rushing back inside. Fagan held the door open for her and watched her with suspicious eyes as she went back behind her desk. He came toward me with purpose in his step. “Your lack of respect for authority is troubling, Ms. Reynolds.”

“How about my lack of caring? Does that suit you?”

“I told you not to close the door. I told you not to speak to my employees. Now you’ve done both on the same day you accuse me of murder.”

I tried to look bored, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Why did you close the door?”

“To make a personal call.”

“What did you discuss with Deanna?”

I leaned in close, mocking his posture earlier. “None of your business.” I started to walk away.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “It is my business if you’re spreading lies to my employees.”

“It’s not lies if it’s true.” I ripped my arm away from him and hurried toward the diner. I took a back booth that faced the door and dug through my purse, past the mail Gabriel had given me at his house, to find my cell. I texted Gabriel with trembling fingers that I was ready to go when he was and told him where I was. I ordered coffee from the waitress, put my phone back, then pulled out the mail and thumbed through it. One envelope in particular caught my eye—plain and white, with unfamiliar handwriting on it. I held it between my fingertips and eyed it. No one I knew wrote letters. Maybe it was fan mail or an invite to some ridiculous neighborhood meeting they were always trying to get me to go to.

“Did you find out anything good?” Gabriel asked, sitting down across from me. “Did Fagan cooperate?”

“That was quick,” I said, stuffing the mail back in my purse. “I’ll tell you about him later.” I made a face to accentuate my point. I didn’t want to say anything because I knew how small towns were. The last thing I needed was for it to get back to him that I was talking in the café about him. Even if he wasn’t the killer, I might very well drive him to murder. I’d never met anyone so hung up on public perception. “How about you? Did you find anything?”

“I actually did.” He looked around and wrinkled his nose. “But we should probably discuss that at home too.”

The waitress dropped off my coffee, and Gabriel told her he didn’t want anything. I drank it as quickly as possible as he told me a story about his grandmother that ended with her whacking him with a wooden spoon.

“See, I still have the scar.” He held up his hair and showed me a thin white line at his hairline on the left.

“Too bad it isn’t shaped like a lightning bolt. You would’ve gotten a wand instead of a gun.” I winked, and he gave an easy smile. I couldn’t be sure, but I doubted his story had as much to do with the scar as it did with trying to win me over to meeting his grandmother. But he could forget it. I knew what came after that. First it was the grandmother, then his mom, and then he’d want to move in and talk about weddings. Nope.

“Did you just compare my sweet grandmother to ‘he who shall not be named’?”

I laughed from deep in my belly. “You have no idea how much I love that you know that reference.” I sat my mug down. “You ready?”

In the car I asked if he’d spoken with Jennifer yet.

“No, I thought you might want to go with me for that.” We headed in her direction, and I couldn’t put off discussing Fagan any longer.

“So about Fagan—no alibi at all. Home alone.”

Gabriel shook his head. “How’d you get him to tell you?”

“I riled him up a little.” I smiled despite myself. “I’m not his favorite person at the moment. He looked downright murderous.”

“That’s not funny. How bad?”

“I told him I knew he was hiding something, and I was going to find out what. And I may have implied I thought he was the killer.”

Gabriel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his knuckles whitened. “Well, if he’s the killer, you’ve just hung a target on your back. At least we have that going for us. I take it he’ll be less inclined to share information now?”

“Maybe, but they don’t know anything. No real evidence at either new crime scene.”

“If he decides not to take you to the party thing, you can always dinner with my grandparents.” “
Great.
How about you? What did you find out?”

“Nikki’s coworker said Nikki was at a party the night Mary was killed. She remembers the date because Nikki was so hung over she had to work for her and that’s when she heard about Mary’s death. She thought the party was thrown by Terry Erath. So I tracked him down and he said there was a party all right, but it wasn’t his. It was a two-day bender thrown by Alfie Laurie. He remembered Nikki being there—and Lakota. He said she was completely wasted and Alfie kicked her out around 9:00 p.m.”

“The time works, but the Lauries live in the opposite direction of the Nelsons.”

“Did you talk to Alfie or Caleb?”

“Caleb was at a study group until midnight and said he saw Mary that day at school, arguing with someone on her phone. I left Alfie a message.”

“I think we need to make a trip to Smithton tomorrow.”

****

I was almost bowled over by the smell of alcohol when Jennifer opened the door, and I understood why Gabriel was so insistent I stop drinking. How many times had I opened the door for him just like this? She didn’t look surprised to see us; she didn’t look like she cared about anything.

Inside, Jennifer and her house were much the same as the last time we were there. Everything about her and her home suggested a funeral that had never finished: the silent rooms, like even the clocks knew better than to tick, the emotionally drained stagger of her walk, like she’d collapse from the grief bearing down on her at any moment, Mary’s untouched room—an unchanging memorial of her lost daughter.

I nodded to her, understanding, not pity, connecting us in more ways than I cared to admit. I told her I needed to see Mary’s room again and Gabriel wanted to talk to her. She shrugged and wobbled her way back to her chair. I gave Gabriel a look and squeezed his hand before I took off upstairs. The room still looked untouched. I suspected she never came in here—I still didn’t go into Danny’s room very often, though I had moved his things out.

I stood in the center and scoured the room for potential hiding places. People didn’t have secret lives without leaving clues behind. People collected bits and pieces from their lives and held on to them like treasures. A ticket that reminded them of a movie they loved, their favorite shirt from high school, and a flower pressed into a book… No matter how cool or tough the person was, everyone kept something. I knelt down and swiped my hand underneath her mattress, but didn’t hit anything. I pulled up the grate over the vent in the floor, took a deep breath, and stuck my hand in the darkness, hoping for no spiders. Nothing. Her jewelry box had nothing that stood out. I went to her shelf and flipped through each book. I picked up one of mine,
Dead Inside
, and it opened to a small envelope tucked tightly into the binding. I dumped its contents on her bed. A movie stub, a napkin with Horton’s stamped on it and a phone number scrawled across the bottom, and a newspaper clipping of Fagan wearing his politician’s grin.

I have the bastard!

I stuffed everything back into the envelope and put it in my pocket. Downstairs, I was surprised to find Jennifer all alone. She didn’t bother to look up, just muttered in a tired, barely raised voice, “He’s outside.”

I paused before I left. “We’ll catch whoever killed her, I promise.”

She didn’t say anything, but I heard a choked sob. I let myself out, giving her some privacy. Gabriel was in the car, and it was already running. “Did you upset her?” I asked.

His face was solemn. “No. I didn’t push her. Poor woman.”

“I found our connection to Fagan.” I pulled the envelope out of my pocket and showed him what I had.

“It doesn’t prove he killed anyone, but it’s enough to talk to him. Push him a bit harder.”

“Good, let’s go now.”

“Are you serious?”

How could he ask that? I wasn’t going to wait around for him to attack me if I could help it. “Completely.”

Gabriel and I went into the police station together. It was late enough it had thinned out a bit inside. Fagan was hunched over his desk, working on something. I walked into his office without knocking and plopped down in a chair, and Gabriel gave a polite tap on the door. Fagan looked up with an annoyed expression.

“Come to throw more wild accusations at me?”

“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve come to throw perfectly reasonable accusations at you.”

“I see you brought backup this time.” His eyes flicked to Gabriel, then back to me. “Scared I might kill you?”

Gabriel took the seat next to me. “She has some interesting theories.”

“Yes, I heard some of them this morning. Interesting, but completely misguided.” He nodded to the door. “Do you mind?”

Gabriel shut the door, then resumed his seat.

I couldn’t wait to wipe the smug smile off Fagan’s face. “So what theories do you have tonight?” It offended me that he looked at Gabriel instead of me.

Gabriel held up his hands. “This is her investigation, not mine.”

“You were having an affair with Mary Nelson.” There was no reason to mince words when I could watch Fagan squirm.

His face looked shocked, then suspicious, then settled on purposefully blank. “I didn’t have—”

“I found the diary in your house and
this
at her house.” I pulled out my envelope with the napkin from Horton’s.

He was too still and quiet, staring at the napkin like it might be a poisonous spider. “You really don’t give up, do you?” Fagan stood. “Let’s not talk about this here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. For all I know, you’ve recently made a leap to serial killer. I already learned you’re a liar.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Ella. I didn’t have an affair with the victim. Come with me, and I’ll explain everything.”

I glanced at Gabriel and he nodded, so we went with the potentially crazy man outside. He went to the parking lot and gave Gabriel efficient directions to his home, a modest rancher in a nice neighborhood.

“Do you think he did it?” I asked Gabriel before we got out of the car.

Gabriel watched Fagan unlock his front door. “No. I can’t say I like him much, but I don’t think he killed anyone.”

I felt better going into Fagan’s house knowing Gabriel didn’t believe he was a killer. He invited us to sit in the comfortably furnished living room.

“Where’s the diary now?”

“Being fingerprinted,” Gabriel responded.

Fagan closed his eyes and flattened his lips. “She wasn’t seeing me. That isn’t my phone number on the napkin.”
Crap, I forgot to check the number.
“Mary was having an affair with William Laurie.”

It wasn’t possible for my eyebrows to rise any higher.

“I assume you didn’t compare the number on the napkin to my number.”

I shook my head. I was too excited about busting him to do anything else.

“Would you like to now?”

I retrieved the napkin, and he rattled off his number.

“Mary was with Nikki and Deanna at Horton’s, trolling for older men with money. Ask Deanna; she can verify everything. And Horton’s happens to be the bar William liked best. He used to always go there to flirt with the young waitresses, then sleep it off at my house in Smithton.” Fagan gave me a suggestive onceover and lifted an eyebrow. “I personally like women my own age.”

Gabriel coughed, and Fagan continued without looking at him. “Nikki was in bad shape. So when she slipped out of the bar, I followed her and arrested her on a fake charge. I took her back to Jackson and let her sleep off whatever she’d taken. When I left, William was talking to Mary and Deanna. I don’t know what happened after that because it was none of my business. I’m not the marriage police.”

“But how does this explain Mary’s diary at your house?” I asked.

“I’m getting there. About a week later William came into my office. He offered me $10,000 to use my house in Smithton to meet Mary. I agreed. Not only would a state representative owe me a favor, but the money would be nice too. I stopped going to Smithton and let them have the house. I didn’t know the diary was there. She must’ve hid it herself. Where did you find it?”

“Behind an old novel.” I brushed my hair out of my face. “So this is what you’ve been hiding. William’s affair?”

“Yes.”

“And what makes you believe this has nothing to do with her death? I spoke with one of her friends in Smithton today, and he said she was fighting with someone on the phone the afternoon she died.”

“I know William didn’t kill her because I was with him for at least part of the evening in question. He couldn’t have done it. No one knew about their affair. At the start, I thought Bryan looked good for it, but soon realized he couldn’t have pulled it off. Whoever did this was a planner. Patient. They knew what they were doing—and they had her for a week before her body was found. There was a meticulous lack of evidence. This wasn’t a crime of passion.” He steepled his fingers in front of him. “No matter what you think, I do know how to do my job.”

“Did you talk to Alfie?”

“How could I without giving William away? As far as I could tell, Alfie barely knew her. She didn’t run with his crowd. Was never into drugs.”

I shook my head. “But what if by some chance he saw his dad with Mary? The kid’s annoying, but not dumb. He has access to plenty of money. What if he kidnapped Mary and killed her. She could’ve been talking to him that afternoon.”