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Wednesday, September 22
Adam woke up in a great mood. Jinks had solved her case, despite it having a mixed ending. He was close to wrapping up his case. And as dug into his biggest breakfast in days, the sun shining through the window cast a hopeful prism on the wall next to him. Even when he arrived at work, his favorite parking spot at the PD was open, and he even harbored a secret hope Beverly might agree to meet him for dinner.
That all changed the moment he opened the door to the police station lobby. The senior receptionist, Arline Newton, greeted him with, “Chief wants to see you. Emergency.” And when the ever-chirpy Sergeant Gray saw him walk by, she wouldn’t look him in the eye.
Adam hurried into the chief’s office, a feeling of dread working its way up his spine. Quinn didn’t wait for him to sit down. “Gabriel Karlstad’s high-powered attorney arrived. Guy named Douglas Marcell. Karlstad clammed up except to say he was hired by the same woman who killed Reginald Forsythe. And he gave that woman a name. Beverly Laborde.”
Adam blinked several times. He’d expected Forsythe would want to keep Goldie’s mouth shut. He must have fed Karlstad a line he’d pay for his defense and make sure he didn’t get much time. The alternative being an ‘unfortunate demise,’ in prison or out. Okay, but how had he figured out Beverly’s identity?
His gaze fell on the newspaper on the chief’s desk. He hadn’t subscribed to the paper in a while and hadn’t wanted to listen to the news this morning for fear it would darken his good mood. Maybe he should have. Emblazoned across the top was a headline about the death of former Representative Arlen Strudwick.
Adam picked up the paper and scanned the article. Strudwick was found dead by his wife. Cause unknown, but the local cops hadn’t ruled out suspicious circumstances. Adam tossed the paper back onto the chief’s desk.
Quinn said, “I sent Jinks over to Apple Valley Resort to pick up Laborde and bring her back for questioning.”
“Where is she? In a cell?”
“Beats me. She’d checked out of the resort.”
Adam took a moment for the shock of that news to wear off. “Why’d you send Jinks instead of me? Or have me go with her? It’s my case.”
“I sensed you’ve gotten too close to that Laborde woman, Dutton. Even lost your objectivity where she’s concerned. That whole Mata Hari thing.”
Adam leaned forward on his knees, wincing at the bruises there. Before he could reply to that, Quinn continued. “To add insult to injury, the mayor is after my badge and yours. He says our department accused him of consorting with criminals. Then I get a call from Reggie Forsythe. He found out about Laborde being the suspect and was furious when he heard she’d disappeared. What the hell happened, Dutton?”
“How did Forsythe hear of Laborde?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible his attorney and Karlstad’s attorney work in the same office.”
“Or his attorney is the same as Karlstad’s attorney.” Adam had recognized the name of Douglas Marcell. The same attorney who’d gotten the Hendrick-killer suspect out of jail. “That’s awfully fishy, Chief. I don’t buy it.”
“Look, Dutton. I don’t care if a pink fairy came down from above and whispered it in Forsythe’s ear right now. I want answers, and I want them five minutes ago.”
Adam leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. Where had Beverly gone? Had she been tipped off? Had she been kidnapped? He didn’t want to consider the idea that she was guilty and ran when the noose started tightening. No, there must be a good reason why she left.
And what about Karlstad? If Forsythe had him wrapped up in a neat, tidy package, then there went one of their main avenues of proof. Except for Beverly’s tape. That could pin something on the man. Beverly’s tape. The same original-tape she’d held onto after they left Mr. X’s castle.
Adam felt the pieces of the puzzle swirling around in his brain like a blender full of live bees. Weighing his vanishing options, he looked directly into the chief’s eyes. “I’d love an opportunity to question Karlstad. Is his attorney still here?”
Quinn grimaced. “Yeah. But it won’t do any good. Karlstad will clam up.”
“Then it won’t take much of my time, will it?”
“Knock yourself out. And after the all-of-two-minutes you’re in there, I want you back at your desk thinking of ways to track down Laborde. Jinks is already working hard on it. Help her out.”
Adam noted his sudden demotion to being the assistant on the case. But he headed toward the cells as the chief called up a sergeant to take Karlstad to the interrogation room.
Goldie looked up as Adam entered and flashed him a big, gold-toothy grin. “Look who’s come crawling back. You’re wasting your breath. I’m not talking.”
The man hovering behind Goldie could have been plucked from an attorney casting call from the looks of the guy. He had a power suit and tie, shiny monogrammed cufflinks, shellacked hair, and a slick, screw-you smile.
Adam picked a chair opposite Goldie, which he turned around and sat with his body propped against the back. He stared at Goldie for two minutes, his gaze not wavering from the other man’s face. When Goldie started squirming in his chair, Adam said. “You familiar with the name Arlen Strudwick?”
Goldie stayed silent. Adam continued, “Not a politics devotee, I see. Strudwick was a state representative. Reggie Forsythe bought him off. Threatened him and his family to get him to do what Forsythe wanted. You might be interested to know that Strudwick was found dead late last night. And I think your good pal Forsythe had him killed for handing over evidence pinning Forsythe to influence peddling.”
The attorney’s face grew beet red, and he looked like he was ready to jump in at any moment, but Goldie stared at them blankly. However, Adam knew Goldie was paying close attention by the way his hands were gripping the table.
“Then, there’s the case of a missing man named Richard Nagra. The name ring any bells with you?”
Goldie just gripped the table harder and continued to stay silent.
Adam continued, “You know what I think? I think Forsythe told you he’d protect you. Get you in and out of jail quickly if you keep your mouth shut. But consider this for a minute. This is the same man who bribed a state official and then killed him. And the very same man who killed his own father. Do you really think he’s going to let you walk out jail of scot-free? When you can tie him to my kidnapping and several other offenses, including murder?”
The attorney spoke up. “Detective Dutton, this is not an approved line of questioning. My client doesn’t have to answer that. In fact, I don’t like the tone of your questions at all.”
Adam ran his finger lightly along the table top. “You see, Forsythe doesn’t care about anyone other than himself. And he’ll get rid of people who get in his way. Or anyone who’s a loose end.”
Goldie licked his lips and wiggled in his chair. The look on his face made Adam think of those cartoons where you could see the gears literally turning in a character’s brain.
“Here’s the deal, Karlstad. We can get Forsythe with your help. Then he’ll be the one in jail, not you. If you agree to help us, we can put in a good word for you with the court and see that your sentence is reduced. Isn’t six months in jail better than being planted six feet under?”
Goldie’s expression grew pensive, but then his eyes turned hard, and he blurted out before his attorney could stop him, “You’re trying to make me fold. And I won’t, you hear me? I won’t.”
Feeling as if he’d given it his best shot but still defeated, Adam left Goldie and told the sergeant to take him back to his cell. He didn’t know whether to be cheered or more depressed when he got a call from his counterparts in Walbridge, New Hampshire, home of the Birdseye Diner. Acting on his tip, courtesy of Creighton Querry, they’d canvassed the area with a drone and found a decomposing body along the banks of the Connecticut River.
The fingerprints matched those of Richard Nagra’s—from police databases after the man’s run-in with the law a decade ago for leaving the scene of an accident and simple assault. Guess that meant the “troll” caretaker he and Beverly had encountered at Nagra’s home was going to be waiting a long, long time for the man to return.
Oh, Beverly. What to do about Beverly? There really was only one thing—he needed to go in search of a missing suspect.
