Terry Odell - Mapleton 01 - Deadly Secrets (13 page)

Megan’s talk with Justin would have to wait. Gordon had appeared, told them he was sending another officer to supervise locking up, then thundered out of the house, obviously upset. What had he and Justin talked about upstairs?

“You know,” Rose said, sweeping her arm across the room. “Maybe we should give some of it to charity. To people who need it. We hardly use half of it. The house is too crowded.”

Her tone was less than convincing.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Megan said.

Rose sank to the floor and burst into tears. “These were my things.” She looked at Sam, who hurried to her side and draped his arm over her. “
Our
things. Our memories. We should have the right to crowded memories, don’t you think?”

Seconds later, Justin appeared in the room, panic on his face. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“She’s fine,” Sam said.

“Someone comes into my home and tosses everything around and you say I’m
fine
? Betty Bedford is dead, and you say I’m
fine
?” Rose wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m not
fine.
I’m angry.”

“We weren’t here,” Sam said. “That’s the important thing. We’re around to enjoy these memories, crowded or not.”

“Sam’s right,” Megan said. “We should be thankful nobody got hurt.”

Justin helped Rose to the sofa. “You’re leaving,” he said. “You, Opa and Megan. And not to Selma’s. Nowhere in Mapleton. Where will it be? Denver? The Springs? You’re going to a nice hotel. You’ll sit by the pool, you’ll dance, you’ll get a new hairdo. New clothes.”

“Ridiculous,” Sam said. “No crook chases us out of our house.”

“He’s not chasing you out,” Megan said. “Remember, the police said we can’t stay here yet. Not until they’re done doing whatever they have to do. And I think Justin’s got a great idea. When’s the last time you treated yourselves to some special time together?”

“She’s right, Oma. You always talk about blessings in disguise. Why not take advantage of the forced vacation. You know. When life gives you a lemon, make lemonade.”

Megan watched Sam take a deep breath and nod to Justin with a hint of paternal pride. “The boy is a smart one, Rose.”

“Only if he comes, too. Or maybe he and Meggie should go home. Come back another time. If it’s not safe for us, it’s not safe for him,” Rose said.

“I’m not leaving,” Megan said, almost in unison with Justin’s protest.

“Then it’s settled,” Justin said.

Sam smiled at Rose. “Where would you like to go? Consider it an anniversary celebration.”

“Sam, our anniversary isn’t for six months.”

“So, it’s a very early anniversary celebration.” Sam brushed his thumb down Rose’s cheek and kissed away the tears. “Besides, you’ll go crazy at Selma’s. The small bed with the lumpy mattress. You won’t sleep a wink.”

Justin pulled out his phone. “Where do you want to stay? I’ll make reservations.”

Rose peeked up at Sam. “You remember that hotel in Denver? Where we—” Good grief, Rose’s cheeks turned a color that matched her name.

Sam took Rose’s hand and brought it to his lips. Megan could feel the heat in that simple gesture. “I do,” he said.

This was going to be some lemonade. Megan smiled at Justin, whose relieved expression spoke volumes.

“But it’s so expensive,” Rose said. “A plain motel would do.”

Megan caught Justin’s questioning glance, accompanied by a surreptitious rubbing of fingers against his thumb in a “money” gesture, pointing to her, then himself. She smiled and nodded in understanding.

Justin shook his head. “Don’t worry about the cost, Oma.”

“Consider it a gift from me and Justin,” Megan said. What better use for some of her savings. Give Rose and Sam a good time and protect them. A two-fer.

While Justin made the arrangements, Megan went upstairs to pack. Seeing the mess, she could understand Rose’s feeling of violation. She peeked into Justin’s room, which looked almost as bad.

She walked down the hall to Rose and Sam’s room. Their clothes hung in the closet, and with the exception of the fingerprint powder, the room passed for normal. Normal if you didn’t know what a neat-freak Rose was.

That must have been what Justin and Gordon were doing. How could she have believed Angie for half a second? No way Justin was at the root of those premonitions of hers. A chill ran over Megan’s neck and shoulders, trickling down her spine. Angie
had
said she thought something bad was going to happen. Could her vision have been right for a change?

She dismissed the thought. Coincidences happened. This was one of those times when the odds were in Angie’s favor.

Rose’s footfalls shuffled down the hall. Megan forced a smile before she turned to greet her. Rose paused at the doorway, as if she was afraid to enter.

“It’s not bad in here,” Megan said. “Maybe they didn’t have time for your room.”

Rose, hands folded across her chest, gazed around the room, and then at Megan. Megan could feel Rose sucking the lies from her words.

“If you say so,” Rose said. From her tone, Megan knew Rose was playing along, making it easier to cope with the reality.

“I’ll help you put a few things into an overnight bag. I agree with Justin. It’s a perfect excuse to buy some new clothes.”

“If you say so,” Rose said again, even more despondent sounding.

A dagger pierced Megan’s heart. She drew Rose against her chest and encircled her with her arms. If anything, Rose felt even smaller and more frail than she had when Megan arrived. “Come on. You and Sam are going to have a great time. You’re not going to let whoever did this spoil your life. This is a crack in the sidewalk. You’ll jump over it and keep on going.”

 Megan’s heart warmed at Rose’s smile. “I seem to remember saying that to you.”

Megan kissed her on the cheek. “Hundreds of times. I know you’re strong enough to get beyond this. And it’ll be fun. Shopping together, like when I was a kid.”

“You’re right, sweetie.” Rose strode to the dresser and yanked open a drawer. She hardly looked inside as she tossed some underwear and a nightgown onto the bed. “Simply because I can’t stay here doesn’t mean I’m a sniveling coward.”

“Way to go,” Megan said. She found the small overnight bag, open, on the floor in the closet. “And why don’t you grab some things for Sam. I’ll go pack my bag.”

Maybe, once Rose and Sam were settled in for the night, she could snag some private time with Justin and tell him what she knew.

Gordon printed a dozen copies of his statement for the press conference, then kicked the font size up before printing his own. Last thing he needed was to lose his place and stumble. He rapped the pages on his desk, fanned them so they’d be less likely to stick together, and slipped them into a file folder. He picked up the phone and called for Laurie.

Her shoes clicked along the floor. Heels. Not her usual footwear. She’d upped her makeup, and wore a gray skirt with a deep blue blouse under a tailored jacket instead of her normal trousers and pullover.

He extended the papers. “I’m putting you in charge of distributing the statements if you think you can handle it.”

“Of course I can.” She beamed as she took the stack.

What was it with people and the media? Did everyone else yearn to be part of the news? He didn’t release his grip on the papers. “Repeat after me.
I’m sorry, but I’m not a sworn police officer. You’ll have to direct your questions to someone in an official capacity
.”

She gave him a quizzical look, as if she thought he was joking.

“I’m serious, Laurie. Whatever you say will be taken out of context and twisted until you won’t recognize a single letter of the alphabet in what you said. I need to know you’re going to stick to the script.”

Her expression grew solemn. “You can count on me.”

“I am.” He let go of the pages.

“Um, Chief?”

“Yes?”

Her quizzical expression returned. “I know it’s not my business, but are you going to wear that for the press conference?”

He peered down at the jeans, sweatshirt and lightweight hiking boots he’d grabbed when the call came in early this morning. “Think a uniform might make me look like I know what I’m talking about?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” she said. She crossed to the small closet and fetched the black garments, still in the plastic bag from the dry-cleaners.

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

She grinned. “As long as I didn’t have to iron it.”

After he changed, he took off for a much-needed trip to the men’s room. Washing his hands, he stopped to study the man in the mirror. No question. His nerves and lack of sleep were screaming loud and clear. He splashed water on his face, finger-combed his hair, and looked again. Straightened his tie. Not a whole lot better.

Damn, he was a cop, not a television personality. What difference did it make what he looked like?

He went to his office, put some drops in his eyes, and picked up the folder. Colfax met him in the hallway, and they walked toward the lobby of the municipal building together in silence. Gordon pulled the door open. Beyond was a familiar space. The smell of floor wax and air freshener. The muted sounds of people milling around, waiting for their number to be called at the driver’s license office, or for someone to finish in court.

Since he’d become Chief with his own office, Gordon rarely used the main entrance. Was the lobby more crowded than usual? Was everyone waiting to see him make a fool of himself? He wiped his palm on his trousers.

Throwing up was
not
an option.

“Nothing to worry about,” Colfax said.

“I look that bad?”

Colfax grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Your statement’s golden. Break a leg.” He pushed against one of the double doors that led outside where the vultures waited, holding it open so Gordon could pass through first.

Gordon attempted to mimic the expression Colfax had demonstrated earlier. With a death grip on his file folder, he marched outside. A lectern crowded with microphones sat in the center of the wide brick stoop. He nodded to the mayor, and took his place behind the lectern, setting his folder against the narrow wooden lip. He sensed Colfax taking a position behind and to his right.

Halfway down the stairs, his officers had erected stanchions, as if this were a red-carpet event. One officer stood at either end, keeping the media at bay. Laurie stood alongside one, holding a large envelope, and flashed him a two-fingered salute. The stanchions were her idea, he’d bet. He nodded at her smiling face.

No smiling faces on the other side of the barrier. Cameras with their annoying flashes. Reporters with microphones, people shouldering video cameras. More microphones on booms, poised like oversized furry caterpillars.

Below that, people. Must be half the town. Along the steps, across the sidewalk and into the grass of the square. Mobile news vans, their masts extended, parked on the street. His stomach lurched.

What on God’s earth?
Denver? Colorado Springs? Networks, not local? CNN? What the hell were all these people doing in Mapleton? Must be a
really
slow news day.

From the edge of the crowd, he caught one more smiling face. Angie. She flashed a “thumbs up.”

“Thank you all for coming.” He opened the folder, took a breath. “I’m Gordon Hepler, Chief of Police here in Mapleton.” He half-turned toward Colfax. “Detective Tyler Colfax of the Sheriff’s Office and I are working together. We’ll answer your questions after my statement. If you would like a copy, they will be available after the conference.”

Two paragraphs in, the queasiness left, and he got to the end without mishap. Feeling more assured, he invited Colfax to join him. “Questions?”

Questions flew at him so thick and fast he almost ducked. Keeping the outrage Colfax had mentioned down to a mere hint took some doing. Gangs? Neo-Nazis? Drug cartel? Russian Mafia? Where was this crap coming from?

And then he saw Buzz, standing front and center, his Canon around his neck, mini-recorder extended, and a satisfied smirk on his face. His doing. Gordon would bet his next three paychecks on that one. Anything for a story. The man would pay.

Colfax dodged and denied. Gordon admired the deft way the man repeated the same information regardless of the question shouted at him. “We have found nothing to lead us to believe this was anything other than a senseless, tragic killing. We offer our sympathy to the family of the victim.”

With most of his anger in check, Gordon leaned into the lectern. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.” He pivoted and made his way to his office and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the windows.

Colfax came in behind him, closing the door in a more gentlemanly fashion. “What the hell happened out there?”

“Damn local reporter. We’ve got a weekly paper, but Buzz has delusions of working for the big city rags. Or television. Latest was a book deal. Always digging for his next big story. Doesn’t matter. My guess is he called every damn contact he knows and leaked little bits of total nonsense to get them all here.”

“You tell him not to talk to anyone?”

Gordon tried to remember his words to Buzz. “Crap. I told him not to
print
anything. Leave it to Buzz to take me literally.”

“You handled yourself well,” Colfax said. “I’m thinking your reporter’s alienated a lot of his precious contacts.”

Gordon felt a little better. “So you don’t think I should go over to his place and shoot him?”

Colfax laughed. “Not yet. I’m going to have to think about it. Whatever I decide now isn’t going to be rational. Meanwhile, he’s not going to get more than a ‘No comment’ from anyone on the force.”

“The big players aren’t going to take kindly to his stunt either.”

Gordon thought for a moment. “Assuming—and this time I think it’s reasonable to do so—that Buzz is responsible for that barrage of questions, do you think there’s a germ of truth in there? Gangs? Neo-Nazis? Drugs? Russian Mafia?”

Colfax rubbed his lower lip. “For the most part, sane, rational people don’t do what we’re dealing with. Maybe it is connected to something Buzz hinted at. Whether he was just throwing a handful of spaghetti against the wall to see if anything stuck? That’s an entirely different ballgame.”

“What’s next?”

Colfax held up a finger, then unclipped his cell phone and brought it to his ear. He listened, his eyebrows lifting. He thanked the caller and snapped the phone shut. “Got any aspirin?”

Ah, so the man wasn’t invulnerable. Gordon fished a bottle from his desk and tossed it to Colfax. He tipped two into his hand and swallowed them. “We’ve got three crimes to solve.”

“Three?”

“Yeah. I got a call. Forensics determined Karl Franklin didn’t die in the car accident.”