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Jinks dropped a file onto Adam’s desk. He looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “Part of your case?”
“Part of yours. After you told me what Creighton Querry said about that poor Kannan Hendrick schmuck who died under mysterious circumstances, I remembered something from another case I was working back then. Drug dealing.”
Adam opened the folder and flipped through the papers, as Jinks added, “The digital files are in the database. But these are the original newspaper clippings.”
They were dated fifteen months ago. The first one referenced what Cray had said and what Adam had verified, that Hendrick was both a drug user and dealer. And that he was allegedly killed by a burglar, but no prints and no witnesses.
The second was the autopsy report. Hendrick was strangled by a rope of some kind that wasn’t found with the body. And there were visible needle marks and some traces of drugs in his system—heroin, opioids—but no drug paraphernalia was found among his possessions. It was if someone had removed them, but why? Tainted drugs that might be traceable? Shades of Reginald Forsythe’s body from his autopsy.
Adam scanned another document in the file and then pointed to a passage highlighted in yellow. “What’s this? Douglas Marcell, Esquire?”
“We had a possible suspect in the Hendrick case, but this lawyer jumped in and got him bailed out. The suspect promptly went AWOL. The attorney, Marcell, was in private practice at the time but was once part of a firm—Lassetter & Lorens.”
“I’m not following.”
“I had to double-check, but guess who Lassetter & Lorens has represented? Take a wild guess.”
“Forsythe?”
“Both of them, pater terribilis and filius horribilus.”
Adam raised one eyebrow, and she grinned, “I flunked Latin. So, pretty interesting about Hendrick, huh?”
“Doesn’t directly tie Reggie Forsythe to Hendrick or the murder of Forsythe, senior, but, yeah, it’s interesting.”
Jinks studied his face. “Okay, what’s up? You’ve got that constipated look.”
“Constipated look?”
“When you’re thinking, but not liking what you’re thinking.”
Adam stuck out his tongue. “Constipation would be easier to fix.”
“It’s that Laborde woman, isn’t it?”
His eyes widened. “We’ve been colleagues too long. I shouldn’t be that easy to read.”
“I don’t know her, haven’t even met her, but she’s trouble of some kind. Put on your mental sneakers and tread lightly with that one. You know the chief and the mayor are hovering, looking for a sacrificial lamb.”
“You calling me a lamb now, Jinks?”
“Bull, then.”
“I don’t think male sheep are called bulls.”
“It’s all bullshit to me. I just don’t want you stepping in it.”
That made Adam smile if just a little. “And you’ll be my pooper-scooper backup. Thanks, Jinks.”
“Remember my warning. Beverly Laborde sounds like one smooth operator. The most dangerous kind of woman.”
After Jinks left, Adam sat staring at both versions of his report he’d typed up about Laborde and the Forsythes. Jinks was right about one thing—Adam didn’t like what he was thinking. And what he was thinking was that he had damning details no one else in the department knew. He’d never withheld anything from Jinks before and not even the chief, not of this magnitude.
He needed to confront the source of the problem head-on before it got the better of him. He grabbed his car keys and headed toward the Apple Valley Resort, but once he arrived, he didn’t see Beverly Laborde’s rental car anywhere. Just his luck he’d missed her.
Fortunately for Adam, he didn’t have to wait long for that luck to change when he spied Beverly’s SUV pulling into the resort parking lot. When he got out of his car and walked over to hers, she rolled down the window. “Why, Adam, I was just thinking about you.”
“Why don’t we have this discussion in my car,” he motioned behind him.
Beverly hesitated a moment. “Is this one of those ‘I should have my attorney present’ moments?”
“Not yet.”
He waited as she climbed out the SUV, holding a paper cup, and followed him to the passenger seat of his Subaru. When the doors were closed, he said, “Why didn’t you tell me Reggie Forsythe was your uncle? Making his father, the late Forsythe the Third, your grandfather?”
She chewed on her lip. “I didn’t know you yet. I didn’t trust you.”
“You didn’t seem too surprised when I referenced your ‘late’ grandfather. Yet it only happened this morning.”
“It? What do you mean?”
“He was murdered, his body found at his son’s home.”
“I was estranged from both my uncle and grandfather. They had no contact with us after my grandmother’s divorce.”
“Where were you this morning, around ten?”
“I went sightseeing. The leaves around here are gorgeous. I bought some apple butter and Creamsicle fudge.”
“And you weren’t on Forsythe’s property when his father was murdered? His security camera got a glimpse of a woman intruder.”
“If I were that woman, Detective, you’d have me in handcuffs right now.”
She was cool, he had to hand it to her. “Was that whole sob story about your grandmother true, or was it a ploy to gain my sympathy?”
“Every word of it is true. My uncle was the main force behind shutting my grandmother’s business down. It was a way to get back at her after my grandfather brainwashed him against her. But my uncle didn’t stop with Grammie’s antiques shop. I’ve found five other businesses that were turned in to the state licensing board by the Northeastern Antiquities League through his vendetta. He used the same legality he’d bought and paid for to close them, too.”
“What do you mean ‘bought and paid for’?”
“I have evidence that proves he influenced an elected official to spearhead the legislation.”
Adam leaned back on his headrest. “If what you say is true, then it’s beyond the scope of my powers. That’s higher up the ladder. The Bureau of Criminal Investigation is stepping into the murder mess, and any ethics probes involving the legislature would have to come from the Attorney General or FBI.”
“Does that mean you’re not interested?”
“I’ve been tasked with finding out who tried to sell Reggie Forsythe a Revere bowl, then pulled a switch with a fake at the last minute. And if that person should happen to be tied to the murder, then that becomes my business, too.”
“And how is your task going, Detective Dutton?”
He noted she’d stopped using his first name. “I personally believe you’re our bowl thief, but I can’t prove it. When I get the evidence—eventually,” he drew out the word, “I’ll have to turn you in.”
“Just doing your job, naturally.”
He used a softer tone. “Beverly, why did you do it? Why take such a big risk to get back at your uncle? For such little gain?”
She looked down at her hands. “Speaking purely hypothetically, I imagine your thief thought this was a way to embarrass that pompous ass. Hit him where it hurts. He’s a man used to scamming others, why not turn the tables?”
“He’s also a powerful man with a wide reach and possible criminal connections.”
“If by criminal, you mean murder, I’d say yes, he does.”
Dutton narrowed his eyes. “Whose murder?”
“Rumors from someone he’s worked with.”
“Who?”
“I’d rather not say. Especially since you’re not taking me seriously about any of this. You practically accused me of playing you in some twisted game.”
“The Fox and Geese game, perhaps?”
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. “If you believed that, you wouldn’t be here, and I’d be in jail right now. Which begs the question—why are you here?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Oh, really? Sure doesn’t look like it from here.”
“You’ve put me in a bind, you know.”
“The ole rock-and-hard-place?”
“Try Rock of Gibraltar and concrete wall. If what you say is true about Forsythe—”
“If?”
“And if I find out he murdered his father, then I’ll be at the front of the pack chasing him down.”
She scanned his face. “You don’t believe I murdered my grandfather?”
“I didn’t say that. But it seems unlikely. To me. There are others I’ll have to convince otherwise.”
Some moments he hated his job. This was one of them. If it were up to him, he’d wrap Beverly Laborde in his arms, comfort her, and tell her everything was going to be okay. Instead, he had to keep his distance. Don’t get involved, they were told over and over. Don’t lose your objectivity. The cold professional must stand on the back of the sympathetic lover to keep him down and inert.
He said, “That evidence you mentioned. Which magically proves Forsythe bought off a state legislator. What is it?”
She flung open the car door and set one foot outside. “I’m going to keep that to myself, for now. But if you get serious about bringing down that worthless piece of garbage, that I refuse to claim has any shared genetic material with mine, then you know where to find me.”
As she hurried into the resort, she didn’t look back. God help him, neither should he.
