MURDER AT THE PIER (A Sister Sleuths Mystery Book 1) (12 page)

Paul was the last to arrive at
the Crab Shack. Lea knew she wouldn't be able to put off the anticipated
lecture indefinitely but was glad of the opportunity to mellow him with a glass
or two of his favorite wine.

Lea and Maddy recounted their meeting of the brothers at
the donut shop and Maddy's later conversation with Maria which had led to her
ensuing kidnapping by Roberto. Hearing about Maddy's rescue, Paul turned to
Tom: "Scott Miller. Is that the Miller estate on the east side of
town?"

"Yeah, do you know him?"

"I don't know Scott but I know his grandfather, Ralph
Miller. One of my clients was interested in building single-family homes out
there. He asked me to negotiate with Ralph to buy part of his property. The
Miller Ranch is one of the biggest in several counties, more than twelve
thousand acres. Have you seen the property?"

"Everyone in the County knows the Miller name but I
never had cause on a jurisdictional level with them being outside city limits.
On a personal level, I did have occasion to meet Miller and his daughter at one
of those wine tasting events my ex used to talk me into attending. As far as
seeing the Ranch, I've only driven past the fences surrounding the
property."

"The terrain is remarkable: oak-covered hills, steep
canyons, and the river valley. It's been in their family since the early 1900s.
They started by raising grain and livestock. In recent years, they've branched
into leasing parts of the land to the studios for movie and TV productions.
They rent the Ranch House for special events like weddings, celebrity retreats,
and political fundraisers."

"Your client was planning to build that far outside of
town?"

"The concept was for each home to have an acre of
land, big enough for people to grow their own food. We thought we had a chance
because it was a big project for Miller and his daughter to handle."

"You're talking about Scott's mother? She helps run
the Ranch?" Maddy asked.

"Yeah. Scott's father died of a heart attack not too
many years ago. Right there on the Ranch. Keeled over one day when they were
branding cattle. After her husband had his heart attack, she stepped up to help
Ralph. I don't know if he could have kept everything going without her."

"That was a lot for her to take on."

"Oh, she's a strong woman alright," Paul
acknowledged. "Besides her work at the Ranch, she's involved in community
affairs. I've served on a couple of committees with her."

Maddy couldn't help being interested. "What's your
impression of her?"

"Independent, strong willed, efficient at getting
things done. She’s also well liked and highly respected."

"What was their reaction when you asked about
selling?" Paul asked.

"Ralph was in his seventies when we approached him. We
figured he might be willing to sell out and retire like the other ranchers in
the area. But the old man was stubborn. Wouldn't hear of having the land
parceled off."

"What did his grandson think of the idea of
selling?"

"Scott wasn't living here then. He and his grandfather
had a falling out years ago. Ralph wanted his grandson to carry on the family
tradition of ranching but his grandson had different ideas about what he wanted
to do with his life. His mother encouraged him to follow his own dreams. The
irony is Scott ended up with his own spread in Colorado.”

"What brought him back here?"

"A couple of things from what his grandfather gave us
as his reason for not selling. Ralph was still hoping his grandson would come
back to work the Ranch with him for a few years before the old man lost his
health. Then, tragedy struck and sealed the deal for Scott to return."

"What happened?"
Maddy gasped.

"Scott's wife was killed in a tragic automobile
accident seven years ago. Apparently, the couple was returning to their ranch
from a weekend skiing trip when their car hit an icy patch in the road and
skidded into a telephone pole. The five-year-old girl was uninjured and Scott
walked away with a fractured collarbone, but his wife died on impact. After a
year of mourning, Scott decided it would be best for his daughter to be
surrounded by family who could help him raise her."

"How has it worked out for Scott being back
here?"

"From all reports, he and his grandfather are really
enjoying working together. His mother's been able to step back from the Ranch
and get more involved in the community. And Scott's a devoted father to his
young daughter."

Maddy's day had been a roller coaster of emotions and what
she heard about Scott Miller sent her spirits soaring. She couldn't deny she
would be attracted to the tall, handsome cowboy even if he hadn't saved her
life. She was sure there had been chemistry between them during both of their
recent encounters.

Her sister kicked her under the table while Paul was
telling the story letting Maddy know Lea understood what her sister was
feeling, a trait the sisters had shared since childhood.

Although Maddy would have liked to hear more about Scott
Miller, Paul moved on.

"I assume from how you've described the way Neal and
the Ramirez brothers worked their burglary operation that you won't recover any
of the stolen goods. I'll have to inform the clients of mine who were
victims."

"I'm sure they sold off the stuff after each
burglary," Tom confirmed. "It was a pretty seamless operation. Or
would have been once Neal had made enough money and disbanded the operation. If
the van hadn't been abandoned at the Pier, we'd probably still be looking for
the perps."

"Sounds like a pretty good motive for murder. If Neal
was ready to quit and the brothers wanted to continue but couldn't do it
without the information Neal was providing, it might have started a
disagreement that ended in his murder."

"That was our initial view of what happened but when
we couldn't place them close enough to the victim, we had to rethink what took
place."

"What's your take on it now?"

"The coroner's report has come in. It confirmed a blow
to the back of the head. Time of death was between nine and ten o'clock."

Lea's jaw dropped. "Whoa, shortly before the dogs
found the body. If we'd arrived much sooner, I may have received a knock on the
head myself."

Tom pointed a finger at her: "Or worse. You could have
become a casualty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Shivers ran the length of Lea's spine. "Were they able
to identify the murder weapon?"

"From the marks left on the skull, the blow was caused
by a blunt object, probably one of the rocks on the beach. I sent a couple of
my guys to search for one with blood on it at the murder scene but no luck. The
murderer probably threw it into the ocean where we’d have no chance of finding
it. Even if it drifts back on shore, the blood will have washed off. The
murderer destroyed any footprints by brushing strands of seaweed across them.
Probably jumped on large rocks to make his or her way back to the Malecon."

"The blow was to the back of the head?"

"Yeah, so Neal wasn't facing his killer when it
happened. That could mean one of two things. Either he was taken by surprise .
. ."

"Or Neal was talking with his killer," Lea chimed
in, "and his killer seized an opportune moment when Neal turned his
back."

Paul leaned on his elbows, brow knitted in concentration.
"If he was talking with the killer, he probably knew the killer. It could
have been a stranger but it's an odd time of night for someone to be walking on
the beach."

"Chances are Neal wouldn't have talked to the person,
especially when he had his own business to take care of with the
brothers," Lea reasoned.

Tom asked her: "What if a stranger approached you at
night apparently seeking help?"

"As a woman, I’d exercise extreme caution. I’d ask
from a distance if they were in need of medical assistance. If the answer was
yes, I’d dial 911 for them. Otherwise, I would leave the scene
immediately." Lea qualified her response. "Neal, having the typical
male ego, probably wouldn’t consider an approach from a stranger as a threat.
But you haven't indicated signs of a struggle at the scene. You must be
assuming Neal knew his assailant."

"Right again," Tom confirmed. "So the
question that has to be asked is why the murder happened then and not another
time. Why there and not somewhere else? Was it an argument gone wrong or the
coming together of means, motive and opportunity?"

It was Maddy's turn: "If someone else knew about the
meeting, it provided the perfect opportunity to do the crime and pin it on
someone else at the same time."

"That suggests someone who knew about the burglary
operation," Paul remarked.

“Someone who knew the vic intimately enough to have access
to information they could use against him,” Tom concluded.

Maddy clapped her hands. "You
think he was being blackmailed by whoever found out."

Tom nodded. "Definitely an avenue we're
exploring."

He paused as the waitress cleared their plates. "But I
haven't told you the other interesting bit of information in the coroner's
report."

Paul punched Tom lightly on the arm: "You've been
holding out on us?"

"The blow to the head wasn't the cause of death. His
neck was snapped."

Maddy gasped. "You mean Neal was
strangled
?"

"Yep."

Paul leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Does that narrow the perpetrator to a man strong enough to strangle
someone of Neal's height and weight?"

"It would except for the blow to the back of the head
which rendered Neal unconscious or at least incapable of fighting back."

Tom's cell phone started buzzing indicating an incoming
message.
"Here's
an update from the coroner now," he read. "Bruises on the victim's
neck and chin show an outline of the strangler's hand including an object on
one of the fingers, probably a ring. The Coroner also says from the position of
the neck when the body was found, he should be able to tell me whether the strangler
was right or left handed."

"Wow," Maddy exclaimed,
"I didn't realize a strangler leaves that kind of evidence."

"Keep it in mind, Maddy."
His eyes twinkled as he picked up his bill from the tray. "Even though you
sometimes want to strangle me, you're bound to get caught if you do."

"Do you have to go so
soon?" Lea asked.

"This evidence only helps me
prove my case in court. Right now, I've got to get back to identifying the
murderer."

"You don't think you have
the killer with Roberto Ramirez in custody?"

"Roberto was talking at the
station even before his attorney arrived. He's willing to take the rap for the
burglaries but there’s no way he's letting us pin the murder on him. He admits
to having an arrangement with Neal for his brothers to steal merchandise and
sell it over the border. The heist you busted, Lea, was supposed to be their
last job. The purpose of the meet was to get their final payoff from Neal. They
planned to stay in Mexico and not come back."

"So what was his explanation
for what went down that night?" Paul asked.

"Says he drove his truck to
the parking lot, the black one with the flames . . . your favorite new mode of
transportation," Tom grinned, brushing against Maddy. “He waited for his
brothers to show with the van.

When they came speeding into the
lot and jumped out leaving the doors wide open, he knew something had gone
wrong. The moment they told him they were being chased and he heard the crazy
dog barking in the back of the van, he ran to where Henderson should have been
waiting with the payoff. Neal was there alright. Lying dead in the sand.

He yelled at his brothers to
leave the dog and abandon the van. They all jumped in his truck and took off.
He drove them to the river to get their car. Roberto instructed them to drive
to the border as fast as they could. He'd get the cash they needed and meet
them in Mexico.”

Paul was stunned. "Why
didn't Roberto take the cash from Neal's dead body before he ran?"

"Oh, he tried. Frisked the
corpse, being careful to cover his tracks, but there was no money. Either the
murderer took it . . ."

"Or Neal never took cash to
the meet," Paul suggested. "How ironic. He may have been planning to
cheat the brothers out of the money they had coming, an ill-advised move but
right in character for him. If that had happened, Roberto probably would have ended
up killing him."

"That's how I see it,"
Tom nodded. “Roberto was ranting and raving all over the police station about
what a crook Henderson was. He should have been thanking him. Neal getting
himself killed undoubtedly saved Roberto from the gas chamber."

Talking with Lea on the
phone the next morning, Maddy agreed Tom needed to have the information they
had obtained from Liz about a visitor to Neal's office the night before his
murder; however, she didn't agree with Lea's reasoning that she should be the
one to tell him.

"If I tell Tom, it will either get back to Paul and
I’ll have some major explaining to do, or I'll have to continue to hide it from
him. We intentionally omitted to bring it up at dinner last night but it could
be important to Tom’s investigation. You’ve got to do it, Maddy."

"Alright. But if Paul he finds out where Tom got the
information, he'll be that much more convinced I'm the source of our sleuthing and
a bad influence on you."

"We all know already you're a bad influence on
me," Lea laughed, "but we all love you anyway. Got to run. Let me
know how it goes."

Maddy knew she could stop by Tom's office but the setting
of the police station for a conversation highlighted her involvement with the
murder. She chose a more informal setting and created a plausible excuse for
the meeting.

Tom answered on the first ring. "Tom Henderson. How
may I be of service?"

"I'm impressed. Do you always answer your phone in
such an official manner?"

Tom recognized the voice of the caller. "Hi, Maddy.
Nope. That greeting is reserved for calls from the switchboard. As it happens,
our receptionist is sick today so all the calls are coming through to me. But
the offer is the same. How may I be of service?"

"It's been a long time since I've had that offer from
a man," Maddy teased. "I could make lewd suggestions but I'm sure all
your conversations are recorded."

Tom had the kind of laugh that made Maddy happy every time
she heard it. "I'll make sure to edit this one before it's put in the
archives."

"I don't want to take too much of your time so I'll
get to the point of my call without further enticement. I want to talk you into
displaying a couple of posters for the upcoming ‘Food and Music under the Stars’
fundraiser."

"You want to put posters on the bulletin boards here
at the station?"

"Yes, please."

"I'm not sure this is the best place to find potential
donors for your fundraiser. Most of the people passing through our station are
stealing money, not giving it away."

"I'm thinking of the visitors who aren't dressed in
orange. From sitting in the front room waiting to file a complaint last year, I
remember reading every poster on your board. Two or three times, in fact."

"Are you implying you had a long wait before you were
taken to see one of our officers?"

"Not complaining. But in planning where to display
posters, I thought of every place in Buena Viaje where I've had to wait in a
reception room. The police station is on the list, and you're my best contact
there."

"Well . . ."

"To make my pitch more appealing, I'll make it in
person and bring the posters but not to the station. Let me buy you a drink at
the Hotel tonight; they have a buffet of free appetizers. Of course, there will
be a lot of people there. Singles making a meal of the free goodies so they
don't have to cook for themselves."

"I've been there once or twice myself. More for the drinks
than for the food."

"So you know I'll be able to buy you two drinks for
the price of one?"

"In my business, I have to be able to understand
ulterior motives, Maddy. I've got you all figured out. But I'm a compliant
benefactor so bring your posters. I'll make sure they get posted. See you there
at seven."

"Better make it six thirty or all the food will be
gone. Business people gather there after work. Unlike you, most people end
their work day when the little hand is on six and the big hand is on
twelve."

"I'll do my best. Fill a plate for me if you get there
before I do."

"Will do. Thanks, Tom. I appreciate this."

"You're the one buying the drinks. Besides, it's no
problem. You know I’m a pushover for you. You've just never come to grips with
that. See you later."

Maddy was glad they weren't face to face so he could see
the wave of heat she could feel rising from her neck to her cheeks.
Am I
reading innuendos in Tom's last statement that weren't intended?

* * *

Tom could have
kicked himself. What a dumb thing to say to Maddy.
How had that slipped out?
It's not how I think of her. She's a good friend, nothing more.

It had been five years since
Maddy's divorce and she had indicated no interest in getting entangled in
another relationship.

Tom hadn't known Maddy when she
was married; she and her husband lived miles away. But Tom's marriage fell
apart shortly after Maddy's and when Maddy moved to Buena Viaje, Lea was
instrumental in ensuring they had each other's shoulder to cry on.

Tom had been completely surprised by his wife’s announcement
she could no longer endure being married to someone in law enforcement. Only in
retrospect did he recognize the signs that she hadn’t been coping well with his
long absences or the strain he was subjected to during intense investigations. As
a homicide detective, he had to be able to control his emotions in order to
handle encounters with brutal, sad, or senseless acts of violence. As a result,
he had developed an emotional insulation that had driven his wife away.

Although he improved his attentiveness and emotional
availability in subsequent relationships, he eventually resigned himself to
casual friendships that called for less emotional involvement. His divorce and the
broken relationships since had taught him one thing about women: it was easier
having them as friends than having them as lovers.

Maddy was the best kind of friend. When she came into his
life, she brought an essence important to him on several levels. She never
failed to brighten his day and make him laugh. The carefree soul she was
brought out his lighter playful side, a side he was infrequently able to
display in his leadership role at the precinct. Most importantly, beside Lea
and Paul, Maddy was the only one with whom he was willing to let down his
guard.

Their relationship had evolved
from a mutual pity party to discovering mutual likes and dislikes. Over time,
their friendship blossomed into the kind few people are lucky enough to
experience in a lifetime.

Am I willing to jeopardize that
by acknowledging I have deeper feelings for Maddy?
Besides, she's my
best friend's sister-in-law. If I tried to have a relationship with Maddy and
it went sideways the way the last one did, it could put a strain on my
friendship with Lea and Paul. That's the last thing I want after all they’ve
done for me.

After his divorce, Paul and Lea made sure he was included
in their family outings. They also helped him through the period of binge
drinking that followed the breakup of his marriage. It was one of the reasons they
got together during the week for drinks and dinner. They understood his need to
unwind from his stressful job. They made certain he did it with friends; not
sitting alone in a bar, common in a profession where the divorce rate was fifty
percent higher than for the general population.

Still, in spite of all the support they offered, they were a
happily married couple. It had been Maddy who had brought him the most comfort
during that time and kept him from going into a deep shell.

Maddy was the person he related to the most. Describing the
end of her own marriage as a knockout blow she hadn't seen coming, she
understood the shock as well as the anger of being taken by surprise. She
empathized with his pain at having his world turned upside down. Other friends attempting
to appear sympathetic seemed more relieved that they weren't in his shoes.

He and Maddy had recounted painful moments; first crying
but eventually laughing, together. She gave him the freedom to express exactly
what he was feeling without judgment. With her, there was no need to pretend he
wasn't hurting or that he was coping well.

She even met him at the gym several times to spar,
encouraging him as he released his anger and frustration on the punching bag.
On nights when he couldn't sleep, she was a willing listener a phone call away.

Those meet-ups and phone calls had diminished in frequency
once Tom began healing. It was Maddy who convinced him to wade into the
dangerous waters of dating again. And it had been Maddy's counsel he sought
after each failed attempt. Whenever she commiserated with him, she bolstered
his ego making him feel he was a catch for any woman.

But has she ever considered me a catch herself?

* * *

Maddy arrived at the hotel
in time to grab the last empty table. The bar stools were filled as well as the
long couches in the middle of the lounge. The table she secured was barely big
enough for two and pushed against the far wall, furthest from the bar and the
buffet. It would be perfect to afford the privacy she needed to discuss murder,
a conversation she didn't want overheard.

She put the posters across the chairs and advanced to the
buffet table. As she had predicted, some hot food warmers were already empty
but there was more than enough for them. She filled Tom's plate to the brim
knowing it could well be his dinner and only meal of the day.

When she returned to the table, the waiter took her order
of a vodka tonic and Tom's favorite beer. "Do you want the two-for-one on
each of those?”

“Absolutely." If Tom had to return to work, he might
not drink the second beer but it would be there if he wanted it.

Looking idly around to spot any familiar faces, her
thoughts drifted to Tom's earlier remark.

She and Tom had always enjoyed bantering with each other,
sometimes with sexual overtones, but the relationship they had was one of deep
friendship. Tom was the brother she and Lea never had. She wouldn't trade
having a sister, especially one like Lea, for anything in the world. But being
athletic, she would have liked a sibling to share sports with. Tom provided
that element for her, and more.

She liked to think their friendship was mutually
rewarding
. When questioning a woman as part of a
murder investigation, Tom's read was impeccable. But in personal matters where
emotions got involved, Tom got as rattled as every other man trying to
understand a woman. It was always Maddy he turned to for advice and sympathy.

She had to admit that on more than one of those occasions,
she had fantasized herself in a relationship with him.

"Hey, Maddy, how’s my favorite girl?” She jumped,
imagining he had entered her thoughts.

“Have you . . ." The waiter placed two frothy cold
beers in front of him. "Guess that answers my question. Thanks for
ordering. This is exactly what I need right now." He collapsed into the
empty chair across from her.

Maddy regained her footing. "Besides my charming
company?"

Tom grinned as he gulped down half a beer, licking the foam
from his top lip. He pointed a finger at his raised mug: "
All the more satisfying for drinking it in your
company."

"Smooth as always, Tom,"
she smiled.

Watching him dig into the plate
of food in front of him, she decided to broach her subject.
Her fingers
closed around her drink and she leaned closer.

"I'm not going to mince my words, Tom."

"Does that mean I was correct in thinking there was
more to this meeting than posters? And you mincing your words," he grinned
between mouthfuls, "would be a first."

Ignoring the sarcasm, she forged ahead. "Lea and I
have information we feel you should have. I'm the one delivering it because
Lea's worried Paul will be upset if he finds out we've been poking around in
your investigation.”

"He'd have good reason to be upset. And I hope you're
not going to tell me that's what you've been doing."

Maddy knew Tom's words were simply a formality. He wasn't
upset with her; he was only verbalizing what his friend would say if he were
here. She rested her chin on her palm. "You know you can't resist getting
information related to your case, especially from reliable sources like my
sister and me."

Having emptied his plate, Tom leaned back to savor his
second beer. "You realize I could have you arrested for obstruction of
justice if you don't give me the information?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" She curled a strand of hair
around her finger. Her mouth curved into a seductive smile.

"Okay, Super-sleuth. Let's hear what you've got."

"Neal had a visitor to his office late the night
before his murder."

Tom's eyebrows furrowed as he sat straighter. "Interesting.
Where did you get that information?"

"I can't reveal our source but. . .”

"Maddy." Tom's voice was firm in a way she
couldn't ignore.

"Okay, okay. But real detectives never reveal the
source of their information."

"You've got detectives confused with newspaper people.
Now, unless you want to get in a world of trouble with me. . ."

"I got it. Our source is Neal's mother-in-law. She
told us Neal and his father were in the middle of a somewhat troubling phone
conversation when it happened. Neal was still at his office when he called. According
to Liz, it was almost eleven o'clock."

"What was Neal calling about at that late hour?"

"Apparently, something to do with work. Harold was
asking his son how he could help when Neal said someone was coming into his
office. He told his father to disregard the call; he wouldn't need help after
all."

"Did Harold follow up with Neal the next day?"

"He tried but Neal didn't return his calls until
around dinnertime. Told his father not to worry. Everything was fine and he was
on his way out for the night. It's the last they heard of Neal until they were
told he'd been murdered."