Leaving Barter Ridge, Emory drove as Jeff read an email on his phone. “Virginia compiled all the online information she could find on each Algarotti family member. Check out this section on Ian.”
Emory looked at the phone as Jeff held it for him, and he saw a year-end report card with straight A’s except for one C. “He’s lacking in science.”
“Wait for it.” Jeff scrolled the image to the right to reveal the names of the teachers for each class. Beside the subject of science was the name R. Roberts. “Rick Roberts was his teacher and the only one not to give him an A.” Jeff paused for a moment. “Could the small set of shoeprints belong to Ian?”
“You think he could’ve killed Britt?”
“And Rick,” Jeff said. “Brothers who hate their older sisters are not that uncommon, and I imagine A’s are very important to Mr. I-Skipped-Two-Grades, so if Rick kept him from a 4.0—”
“Point made, but I want more before I go up against Victor to question his son.”
“Maybe Britt’s best friend could shed some light on the little brother.”
“Good idea. That reminds me, could you look up the last time Barter Ridge had snowfall, before this one? I remember at the lake my dad saying this was the first snowfall of the season, but I want to verify that.”
Jeff checked his phone and had the requested information less than a minute later. “Before this past Monday, the last snowfall in this area was back in April of last year.”
“Interesting,” Emory muttered without moving his lips.
“What is it?”
“We’ll find out. Are you in a hurry to get home, or would you be up for talking to Tati now?”
“I want to solve the case,” Jeff said. “Do you know her address?”
“I don’t.”
“I’ll ask Virginia to find it.” Jeff texted his partner, and as they waited for a response, he asked, “So why can’t you drive a deputy car?”
Emory tsked at the question. “Promise not to laugh?”
“I’ve never been able to keep that promise.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you anyway. Just don’t guffaw.”
Jeff chuckled. “It’s a fine line, but I’ll try not to cross it.”
“I came home from college one weekend, right after Jerry Belcher died.”
“Who’s that?”
“He was the mayor of Barter Ridge for like twenty years, but he was retired when he died. They planned a funeral procession from Whitney Ligon Funeral Home downtown to this tiny country cemetery about ten miles away. Dad was short-staffed, and he asked if I could drive the lead deputy car. So…I did.”
“Oh my god,” Jeff said with anticipation. “What happened?”
Emory inhaled through his teeth. “I thought I knew the way, but just to make sure, I was following the map app on my phone. Shortly after leaving the funeral home, I lost the signal. I kept driving to where I thought the cemetery was – from the paved road to a gravel road and finally to a dirt road, which was more like a mud road from a thunderstorm that had hit the day before. Well, somehow somewhere along the way, I missed my turn, and I was just getting deeper into a wooded area that was way, way off the beaten path.”
“Oh no.”
“No one stopped me. They just kept following me like I knew where I was going. Then my car got stuck. The hearse got stuck, and about six other cars did, including the one with the widow.”
Jeff covered his expanding grin with his hand. “What happened?”
“We had to get a school bus to pick up all the stuck people…and the body. So those people had to ride the bus with the casket in the aisle all the way to the cemetery. They told me the casket kept sliding up and down the aisle.”
With that visual, Jeff started laughing. “Why didn’t someone hold it in place?”
“I don’t know. I think most of the people on the bus were elderly, so they probably couldn’t. I’m just lucky it didn’t go flying out the emergency door in back.” Emory pointed to Jeff, who was now guffawing. “You said you wouldn’t do that.”
“Sorry.” Jeff put on a serious face.
“My dad had to pay for everything, including towing all those cars, out of his budget. That was one of two times I made the newspaper that he doesn’t have framed in his office.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
“The whole thing was mortifying. I didn’t come home for six months afterwards. Since then, I’ve been banned from driving any of his patrol cars.”
Jeff rested his hand on Emory’s thigh. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He produced a gun wrapped in a scarf from his coat pocket. “It’s Victor’s. For testing.”
Emory was surprised to see the gun in Jeff’s possession, and he wondered if he had stolen it. “Did he give it you?”
“Yes, he did. I swear. And I was very careful not to touch it, so you could dust it for prints.”
“That’s great. Maybe put it in the glove compartment for now.”
“By the way, what was the other time you ended up in the paper?” As soon as Jeff asked the question, his phone chimed.
Emory asked, “Is that Virginia?”
“Answer my question first.”
“That’s a story for later. I need to know where I’m driving.”
“You know, you’re racking those up.” Jeff checked his phone. “Tati Burrett lives at 1541 Black Bear Lane.”
“Black Bear…” Emory began. “Isn’t that the same street as the lake where Britt died?”
“I’m mapping it now.” Jeff checked his phone for the difference between the two locations. “Not only is her house on the same street, it’s right across the street from the lake.”
Emory and Jeff parked in the Burretts’ driveway and stepped out of the car. Both men looked across the street toward Cicada Lake. Even though they could gauge about where the lake was, it was at the lower end of a slope, so it wasn’t visible from their vantage point and much less so from the single-story house behind them.
“Do you think someone could’ve seen anything from the house?” Emory asked.
“Maybe smoke, if they happened to be looking in that direction at the time.”
The two walked up to the front door, and after Jeff knocked, Tati answered. “Agent Rome. What are you doing here?”
Emory started with introductions. “This is Jeff Woodard. He’s a private investigator who’s also working on Britt’s murder.”
Tati nodded to Jeff. “Nice to meet you. You want to come in?”
“If you don’t mind,” said Emory. “Are your parents home?”
“They’re helping out at church.” Tati led them to the living room, where the men sat on the couch, while she took a seat in a recliner. “Do you have more questions about Britt?”
Emory responded, “We want to ask you about Ian.”
Tati snarled her nose. “Ian? Why are you asking me about him?”
Jeff asked, “Do you know any of Ian’s friends that we could talk to?”
“Ian doesn’t have any friends.”
“How did Ian and Britt get along?” Emory asked.
Tati laughed. “That’s an easy one. Britt couldn’t stand him. They used to be okay, and by that I mean she could tolerate him even though he was an annoying little brother. When their mom died, he got creepier, and Britt couldn’t stand being around him.”
Emory said, “Then I’m surprised Britt ever came home. She couldn’t stand her brother or her stepmother, and her dad was controlling who she could date.”
“I think that’s how she became such a good skater. She spent so much time on the ice to avoid going home, she couldn’t help but be good at it. Hey, you’re not thinking that Ian killed Britt, are you?” Both men hesitated to answer. “He’s just a little boy. Believe me, if Ian was going to kill someone, I would think he’d have a lot more people higher on his list than his sister. He was always being bullied by people who didn’t like that someone his age was in the same grade.”
Jeff asked, “Speaking of school, do you know why Ian got a C in science last year?”
Tati laughed again. “How would I know? I don’t keep up with…Oh wait. I know what you’re talking about now. I remember that. It was last year. He got caught cheating. Ian never says much, but I think he told everyone who would listen for like days after that he wished Mr. Roberts was dead. Do you think Ian burned down his house?”
“Do you know any details about the cheating affair?” Emory asked.
“No, not really. You should talk to Dan Claymon. They were lab partners last year, and I think it had something to do with him. I don’t know. I usually tuned out if Britt was talking about something that wasn’t important.”
“Thanks for your help. We’ll go talk to him.” Jeff was about to stand when Emory pulled him back to the couch.
“One more thing before we go.”
“What is it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were with Britt the morning she died?”
Tati’s face flushed what little color it had down her neck. “What do you mean?”
Emory showed her the picture on his phone of the shoeprints in the snow around the lake, and he pointed to a small print. “I can’t tell for certain, but these prints from the lake look to be about the same size and shape as the boots you’re wearing right now.”
Now fidgeting on the squeaky leather upholstery, Tati continued deflecting. “Those could be anyone’s.”
“True.” Emory flipped to the photo of the framed picture of Britt he found lying on her bed. “This last picture you took of Britt, the one used at her funeral. You told her family it was taken the weekend before she died.”
“That’s right.”
Jeff held his hand out for the phone so he could see the picture. Once he had it, the screen went blank. He pressed the main button, but nothing showed up.
“There’s snow in the picture, but the snow hadn’t fallen until the evening before Britt died. The picture you took had to be snapped the morning she died, within minutes I’d imagine.”
“I don’t see anything,” Jeff said.
“Fine,” Tati blurted out. “I just didn’t want anyone pointing a finger at me, so I didn’t say anything.”
Emory took the phone and tried to get the picture back up, to no avail. “My battery’s dead.”
“That’s okay.” Jeff turned his attention to Tati. “Tell us what happened that morning.”
“Nothing. At least not while I was there. Britt called me the night before and said she was ready to get back on the ice. She asked if I would take pictures of her skating with the new snow in the background. She thought they’d be cool shots. I met her at the gate. We stopped after a few feet to take some pictures, and then she started talking about Dan and how upset she was. By the time she was ready to skate, I had to get ready for school. I came home, and she went on to the lake.” Tati’s eyes glistened with tears. “If I had stayed with her, maybe whoever did this wouldn’t have attacked her.”
“Don’t blame yourself for that,” Emory said.
Jeff asked her, “Wouldn’t you have noticed her car still there when you left for school?”
“Britt had a free first period. She always got to school late.”
“What about that evening?” Jeff asked. “Her father didn’t find her until 6 p.m.”
“I work at the coffee shop after school. I get home at 8. That’s when I heard about Britt.”
Emory stood up, followed by Jeff. “Thank you for your time.”