Chapter 14
After Hayley said good night to Sabrina, she ran to her car and called Sergio on her cell phone to tell him the news, but he had already read Sabrina’s official autopsy report.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Sergio said. “The physical evidence just doesn’t add up.”
“Unless Garth was beaten to death somewhere else and the killer returned to the warehouse with the body and carefully placed it on the floor,” Hayley offered, trying to be helpful.
“But the door was locked. He had food cooking in the oven. His dog was there. Everything points to him being in the warehouse alone at the moment he died.”
“Someone might have had a key and let himself or herself inside and then killed him. But if some sort of violent struggle took place in the warehouse kitchen, why would he be dead on the floor with a lit pipe in his hand? And wouldn’t Lex’s crew next door have heard the commotion?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. They were drinking beers and listening to music at the time, which might have drowned out the sounds of a fight. They all stated that they didn’t hear anything until the fire trucks arrived.”
“So, where do we go from here?”
“First thing I need to do is find out who else had access to the warehouse, which means talking to Rawlings’s widow.”
Tiffany Rawlings.
“Sergio, Tiffany Rawlings and I have done a few bake sales and bike rides to raise money for breast cancer awareness. We have a pretty good relationship, so I thought maybe . . .”
“Yes, Hayley. If you really think she will be more comfortable answering my questions with you there, then by all means come with me.”
Actually, Hayley wasn’t 100 percent certain Tiffany would feel more comfortable. But at the very least she could offer her condolences and be there if she needed a shoulder to cry on, since Sergio had a tendency to ignore the feelings of a victim’s loved ones and focus entirely on the interrogation at hand.
Sergio picked Hayley up at her house late Sunday morning and they drove over to the Rawlings residence, just outside of town in Otter Creek, a large two story frame house located a few hundred feet off the main road in a woodsy area. Tiffany had made it clear she would not miss church services and would only accept visitors after the noon hour. When she greeted Hayley and Sergio at the door, she was dressed in a black dress, with white pearls hanging around her neck. She wore her normally wavy long brown hair in a severe tight bun. She was clearly in mourning, as this was not the Tiffany whom Hayley knew from the bake sales and bike rides. She was usually much more provocatively dressed and a free spirit.
Hayley instantly felt pity for the grieving widow.
Tiffany led them into her living room, where she had set out some tea and freshly baked scones.
“Thank you for seeing us, Tiffany. I know this is an extremely difficult time,” Hayley said.
Tiffany nodded and motioned for them to take a seat on the couch. She sat down opposite them in a floral-print upholstered chair.
“I just have a few questions I would like to ask,” Sergio said, barreling ahead in his “bull in a china shop” kind of way.
Hayley kicked his foot with her own and he slightly winced.
Tiffany didn’t notice. She was staring at the mantel above the fireplace, gazing at a framed wedding photo of her and Garth on a beach in Hawaii. “I can’t believe we were married fifteen years. It seems like yesterday when we took the plunge in Maui. We still had so many plans. . . .”
Hayley sensed Sergio was about to speak, so she kicked his foot again. Sergio turned to Hayley, who glared at him, silently ordering him to give the poor widow a few moments to remember her husband before so callously diving in with his questions.
“We were going to expand the business. Maybe open a restaurant next summer. We were drawing up plans to build a new house in Seal Harbor. And, of course, we wanted to travel more and see the world. Just last month Garth received an invitation to teach a course at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Can you believe that? I’ve never been to France.”
“That’s such an honor,” Hayley said. “You must have been so proud of him.”
“I begged him to take better care of himself—to give up tobacco, exercise more—but he was so stubborn. I go to the gym five times a week. Him? Never. I always feared his smoking and those rich, heart-clogging sauces would finally catch up to him.”
Tiffany lifted the silver teapot to pour them some tea.
Hayley and Sergio exchanged a quick look.
Sergio cleared his throat. “Mrs. Rawlings, I’m afraid your husband did not die of a heart attack, as we originally believed. His death has been ruled a homicide.”
Tiffany dropped the teapot and it crashed into the half-full teacup, knocking it over and spilling tea all over the service tray. “What?”
“We just received the coroner’s report last night.”
“It can’t be,” Tiffany said, eyes welling up with tears. “Who would want to hurt Garth? He was a loving husband. A decent man. He had no enemies, to speak of. The coroner is wrong. That’s the only thing that makes sense. We all know she’s been wrong before.”
“I read the report,” Sergio said. “Based on her findings, the evidence unequally suggests—”
“‘Unequivocally,’” Hayley said.
“Unequivocally suggests someone killed him,” Sergio said, rolling his eyes at Hayley. “And at this point, I’m inclined to believe her. We’re just having a hard time figuring out how it happened.”
“But everybody in town loved Garth!” Tiffany wailed.
That was a tough sell. Anyone with a passing familiarity with Garth Rawlings’s personality would wholeheartedly disagree with his distraught widow.
“There must have been someone, Tiffany, maybe from Garth’s past who might not have believed he was a swell guy at some point,” Hayley said.
“Well, yes, of course. I mean, when you’re as successful as Garth, you don’t get there without stepping on a few toes. But that’s all in the past now. All was forgiven.”
“Who are we talking about?” Sergio asked, leaning forward.
“Ken Massey.”
A local businessman. Very successful. Owns a few restaurants and t-shirt shops frequented by the summer tourists.
“Garth and Ken had a falling-out?”
“When Garth was starting out, he didn’t have the capital to get the business going, so he brought in Ken as a silent partner. Ken paid the initial investment. When the catering business started making money, Ken tried to take control and dictate everything, and it got ugly for a while. Garth felt like Ken was keeping him in a straightjacket, but that was years ago. Ken went on to start a number of other successful businesses, and he finally agreed to let Garth buy him out.”
“Was there any bad blood between them after the buyout?” Sergio asked.
“No, not at all. They have long buried the hatchet, and Garth and I had dinner with Ken at the Town Hill Bistro just a few months ago, before they closed for the season.”
“One more question, Mrs. Rawlings, and then I promise we will stop bothering you. Were your husband and Ken still partners when he rented the warehouse space?”
“No. Why?”
“So he wouldn’t have had a key to get inside?”
“No, absolutely not. My husband had a few faults and one of them was paranoia. He was always terrified that someone would steal his recipes and his trade secrets, so he never gave anyone a key to that warehouse. He kept the master key in a safe here at home. I don’t even know the combination. Trust me, it could not have been Ken.”
Ken Massey didn’t have the best reputation in town. He’d been called a “snake,” a “cheat,” and much worse by the people he plowed over to make his fortune.
Sergio didn’t look as convinced as Tiffany Rawlings that Ken was a completely innocent party.
And, frankly, Hayley wasn’t inclined to believe it either.
Ken was a smart, driven, can-do guy.
If he wanted to gain access to Garth Rawlings’s warehouse kitchen, he would most likely have found a way.