Chapter Fourteen

At the station, Falk was surprised to see them but got them coffee and then listened patiently while Monica told her story again. He took notes and asked some questions to get things clearer in his head. “It would be helpful if you could give me a time line for that evening. When you exchanged clothes with your sister. Where she was to go, how she would find the boat, and so on. Maybe we can find a point on that time line where the killer got involved.”

Just then the door opened and Dave stormed in. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked at Monica. His voice was strangled as he said, “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

Monica’s lips wobbled as she whispered, “I did it, Dave. I had to. I can’t just let Muriel—”

“Muriel was after your money. She wanted to destroy you. She never cared for you, just for herself.” Dave’s hands were clenched into fists by his sides. He glared at his wife. “She was cold and ruthless and dead set on ruining everything for you. Your career, your spotless reputation. And if she had understood what we had planned, she would have ruined us too. Our chances of ever being happy together.”

Monica sat with her head down, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Callie said, “Sit down, Dave. It’s too late to change it now. Monica has already told us. She also told Quinn. He got angry and stormed off. We’re not sure what he intends to do.”

Dave stared at her. Then his eyes flashed to Monica. “Come on. We have to leave. We have to get out of town before the press comes after us. They can’t know how you look now. We have to run. We can leave the States. We’ll go see Venice. You wanted that, right? We’ll go today.”

“Sit down, Dave.” Falk rose from behind his desk and pointed at the empty chair beside Monica. “Now.”

Dave repeated to his wife, “We have to leave. They can’t find us. They can’t destroy all we’ve worked so hard for.”

“Monica isn’t leaving town,” Falk said. “We need her for the investigation. Now you sit down, or I’ll make you sit down.”

Dave sank to the chair. He looked at Monica with wide, disillusioned eyes. “Why did you have to do this?” he whispered.

Monica tried to put her hand on his arm, but he pulled away from her and sat with his back half-turned to her.

“It’s convenient that you’re here, Mr. Riggs,” Falk continued, “because I have some questions about the night on which Muriel Walker died. I want to know exactly what happened. What your part in it was.”

“None at all. I never saw Muriel that night.”

Dave didn’t seem to want to say more, but when Falk just leaned back in his chair and watched him, letting the strained silence linger, Dave seemed compelled to continue, “She knew where the boat was and how to take it out. She knew what to do: Make sure that in the morning she was seen in another town or two. Lay a false trail. Divert attention. Monica paid her enough money to get it right. But she must have been using again and botched it.”

“Someone killed her!” Monica cried. “She didn’t botch it.”

Dave spoke as if he hadn’t heard her, “Monica met Muriel to exchange the clothes. Monica then came to me and dyed her hair, changed her appearance, became Elvira Riggs. I had arranged a fake identity for her, through an agency. They delivered everything: birth certificate, passport, diplomas, a complete life to step into. The correspondence was all handled through PO boxes, and they sent me a key to a locker at a bus station where I could find the envelope with paperwork waiting for me. It was expensive, but pretty much foolproof since they didn’t know who I was and I didn’t know who they were. I had already told people around here about the wonderful woman I had met abroad, about our wedding, and said that she would come over shortly. They were expecting her arrival, so it was never connected to Monica Walker’s disappearance. We believed it had worked. Even though there were no sightings and no boat ever turned up. We never thought anything had happened to Muriel.”

Falk said, “You knew where the boat was waiting for Muriel.”

“Of course. I put it there.”

“So you stole it?”

“Yes.” Dave glared at Falk. “Are you going to arrest me for that?”

Falk didn’t flinch. “You took the boat to that assigned spot, and you knew that Muriel Walker was going there. Who else knew?”

“No one! Is it so hard to understand, man? We made this plan together. Muriel didn’t even know I was involved. She thought Monica had arranged for the boat.”

“Yes, I see.” Falk leaned back in his chair again and leaned his fingertips against each other. “Muriel thought she was dealing with her sister. She thought that after the clothes exchange nobody would be following her around to see what she did. She went out to the boat, not knowing a man knew where it was docked. She went on board unsuspectingly and then you popped up, Mr. Riggs, and you killed her.”

Dave scoffed. “What? Why? If someone did follow her and killed her, it was someone mistaking her for Monica. Monica was the intended victim.”

“Was she? It’s clear you’re very protective of your wife. You wanted to take her out of her destructive showbiz life and give her a new start here in his wholesome little town. You had everything prepared, but then her sister turned up. You decided to make her a part of your plan; after all, it was convenient if she could take the boat out so you didn’t have to do it and if she could also play Monica. She could even create sightings that would make the elopement more credible. But let’s be fair. You knew that her addiction drove her to desperate acts. Lies, manipulation. As soon as her money ran out, she would come back. She would start asking for money again.”

“She had no one to come back to. Monica was leaving the States, for all Muriel knew. She didn’t know about me. Where could she have gone?”

“That is rational. But aren’t a lot of things in life very irrational? You were this close to being with the love of your life. To having her all to yourself. You would have successfully severed all ties with her old life, and she would be dependent on you and you alone. That was your idea of happiness. You couldn’t risk that. You had come so close. Muriel was a risk. Maybe you even told yourself that with her drug addiction she would never have a really good life. So killing her wasn’t really unethical. Perhaps you were even doing her a favor?”

“What are you talking about? I never thought that. I never saw her that night either. I certainly didn’t harm her.”

“Come on, Mr. Riggs.” Falk leaned forward on his desk. “When you came in here just now, you were fuming. You spoke about Muriel Walker in derogatory terms, saying she had been out to ruin your wife’s life. You didn’t like her. Even after all these years, you can’t hide your frustration about her appearance on the scene. And now we know someone killed her. You just told me you put the boat in place. You were the only one who knew where it was. So if Muriel Walker’s dead body ended up on that boat, who could have killed her but you?”

Dave was silent. His eyes shot from left to right as he scrambled for an answer to Falk’s accusing questions.

Monica said, “Someone must have followed Muriel to the boat. She was wearing my clothes. It could have been Roger or a crazy fan, some stalker who followed me to Heart’s Harbor. The dock where we kept the boat was dark and abandoned, an ideal place for a confrontation. The killer might have intended to kill her all along, or maybe there was an argument, a struggle. Then he put her on the boat and sank it to hide her death.”

“Not very likely. Someone who had been following her for a longer time and confronted her there would have simply thrown her body into the water or hidden it some other way, but not thought up this entire plan with the boat. No. I think I’m holding Mr. Riggs. You admitted you stole the boat. You admitted you were the only one who knew where it was docked.”

“Not quite.” Monica’s eyes sparkled. “I also knew. I had to tell Muriel, remember? Are you sure, Deputy, that I didn’t kill my sister? She was a danger to me too. Maybe even more so than to Dave.”

Falk looked at her. “A charming way to distract me, Miss Walker or Mrs. Riggs or whatever I should call you now. Is your marriage abroad even valid? I doubt it. If you had married under your own name, the press would have gotten wind of it.”

Monica hung her head. Her hands clutched the purse in her lap. “I’m holding Dave,” Falk continued. “I want to take a closer look at all the circumstances of the old case and of course Jamison’s death as well. You were the last people he called before he died. What was that about? Treasure hunts? I don’t think so.”

Dave glanced at Monica and sighed. “Okay, so he told me over the phone he had to see me, that he needed my advice on something sensitive.”

“Why you of all people?”

“We knew each other through the Historical Society. We got along. He said that he needed someone who could keep a secret. In case he was wrong about what he suspected.”

“But you didn’t go to him?”

“No. I was worried it had something to do with Monica’s disappearance and I didn’t want to talk about that. I was already sorry I had gone to Callie. I felt compelled to meddle, to tell her about Monica, about her having wanted to do a new series, and I wanted to steer Callie’s perception of the situation, to have her think in a certain direction. But that was wrong. I should never have come forward. It only drew attention to me, to us. Because I had already made that mistake, I was edgy, unsure. I didn’t feel up to facing Jamison and risking him maybe intuiting something about my story, finding it suspicious.”

“You admit you felt edgy, cornered perhaps even?” Falk hitched a brow. “You had made a mistake approaching Callie, and now Jamison wanted to talk to you. You were worried about what he might know or, in any case, suspect. You did go to him. And then it got out of hand, and you lashed out at him.”

“No!” Dave shook his head forcefully. “I never went to the Herald’s offices.”

“I don’t believe you.” Falk leaned back with determination etched in his features. “Jamison had the map indicating where the boat was sunk. He must have been on to you. You paid him money to keep his mouth shut. Then Jamison wasn’t prepared to shut up anymore. He told you over the phone that he was going to tell the truth. That you killed Monica Walker.

“I don’t think Jamison knew Monica was still alive and someone else had died on that boat. I think he believed that the boat held the remains of Monica Walker, and he wanted to come forward and have his moment of glory after all those years of being pointed at as the reporter who couldn’t crack the case. He called you and you told him you’d come over to discuss it. Then you killed him.”

“You can’t prove any of that.” Dave leaned back, crossing his legs. “You’re just speculating. A good lawyer will have me released in no time.”

“Then I suggest you call a good lawyer so we can start the interrogations as soon as possible.”

Falk looked at Monica. “You’re staying too, to give your side of the story. You can have a lawyer present as well, of course.”

“Can we do this discreetly so that it doesn’t get out that I’m Monica Walker? Let the people believe you’re questioning me, Elvira Riggs, and my husband. Please?”

Falk shrugged. “I don’t want a media circus at this station, so I’m fine with that. But you just said this Quinn character knows something and ran off, so he might be telling the whole world right now, for all we know.”

Monica sighed. “I should have handled it differently.”

Dave shook his head in disbelief. “Why did you have to tell Quinn Darrow the truth? I could have protected you.”

“You’ve protected me long enough. And Quinn Darrow is Muriel’s son. I’ve always felt like I let Muriel down, and I can’t do the same to her son. I had to tell him. Please try to understand.”

Dave stared at the floor, his shoulders slumped.

Callie looked from the dejected husband to the guilt-ridden wife and wondered if they were telling the truth. Had they really not known that Muriel Walker had died on the night of Monica Walker’s disappearance?

Had they really not known that the stolen boat had sunk and been buried under the water, so close to them for all of these years?

Or was it only Monica that didn’t know while Dave had known all along? Was he the killer? Did he kill Jamison as well?

Falk gestured to Callie to leave his office. Outside he said to her, “Thanks for bringing her in here.”

“She wanted to come and tell you. I didn’t make her. I’m sorry about all of this. Dave did what he could to keep her out of it.”

“Yes, I wonder how far he was willing to go for that.” Falk raked back his hair. “Anyway, I have a challenging few hours ahead of me. I need to reconstruct what happened, and it was a long time ago. Plus they could both be lying to protect themselves or each other or who knows who else involved. So far everybody seems to have been lying about everything.”

He sighed. “Well, never mind. I’d just be very happy if Quinn Darrow refrained from making this breaking news on every channel.”

He held up his hands and spread them as if unrolling a banner. “ ‘‘Actress Missing for Thirty Years Turns up Alive and Well in Small Town Where She Vanished’—it would be a global sensation.”

Callie frowned. “Did you check the map for fingerprints?”

“Of course, but no luck. Nothing on it.”

“What? Nothing? Not Jamison’s? If he took it from his file cabinet … he wasn’t wearing gloves, right?”

“No, you’re right about that—it’s odd. But I don’t suppose the killer would have wiped the prints away. He could have taken the map with him. It pointed straight to the scene of the crime. The boat and the remains.”

Falk walked away to talk to his other deputy and get things into motion for questioning the Riggses.

Callie stared at his busy figure. He had said before that the killer wouldn’t leave a clue. He was saying now that the killer would not have removed fingerprints from the map. But why not?

What if the killer had wanted the map to be found? What if the killer had wanted the police to conclude that Jamison had had the map all along, hidden in his file cabinet?

But what if Jamison hadn’t known anything about the map, the boat, or the body on it? What if Jamison had been killed for another reason?

What if the map had been put there on purpose, to lead the police to the boat and the remains and muddle the waters?

Callie walked out of the station, her head spinning with possibilities. She had to talk to Mr. Bates again. The former hotel owner might be able to help her.