Dark Truth (18 page)

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Authors: Mariah Stewart

BOOK: Dark Truth
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“I’d rather hand it over myself. Let’s not compromise the chain of possession.” He thought aloud as they walked toward the lobby. “Supposing we do find something that points to someone else. It isn’t going to look good if it comes out that the evidence was temporarily in the hands of the daughter of the man who’d been convicted of the murders.”

“Good point.” She paused outside the door.

“Do you still have time to stop at Kyle’s? It’s after six.”

“Only if we can stop for dinner first,” Wes told her. “I’m starving.”

“I could eat,” she admitted.

“There’s a really good Italian restaurant about three blocks from here.”

“Great. I love Italian.” She smiled and walked toward the Land Rover, which was parked in the visitor’s spot near the front door. “I’ll follow you.”

The drive to the restaurant took less than five minutes. Wes parked his car out front and got out to wait for Nina while she tried to parallel park the Land Rover.

“Sorry it took me so long,” she said when she finally got out of the vehicle after the fourth attempt to park was successful. “I was never very good at parallel parking, and since I don’t have a car in New York, I hardly ever drive anymore. It takes me a while to get the hang of it.”

She locked the vehicle and stopped when she realized what she’d said.

“Probably not what you want to say to a cop.”

“I didn’t hear a word.” Wes grinned and opened the door to the restaurant.

There were fewer than twenty tables in the small storefront, and all but three were occupied.

“This looks like a popular place,” Nina observed.

“Best Italian food in Stone River.” Wes nodded.

A woman in a dark dress and silvery gray hair waved to Wes from the back of the restaurant.

“Oh, Detective, I almost didn’t recognize you,” she told him as she approached.

“What do you mean? I was here just last weekend.”

“Yes, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen you with a date, I didn’t believe my eyes.” She winked at Nina and picked up menus from the table that stood near the front door. “This way, Detective . . . and your lovely date.”

Wes decided it would be more trouble than it was worth to try to explain to Dellarosa, who owned the restaurant with her husband, that Nina was not his date. Besides, Nina had shrugged good-naturedly, so he let it ride.

“This is a good table, Benny will wait on you tonight,” Dellarosa told them as she seated them at a table near the back of the restaurant. “I’ll have him bring you a glass of wine in just a minute. Does the lady like the red that you favor?”

Wes looked at Nina for help.

“Red is fine, thank you.”

After Dellarosa walked away, Nina asked, “Didn’t this used to be Caramuzzi’s?”

“Yeah, you remember that?”

“I do. I used to have dinner here with my friends from school. I loved their spaghetti sauce.”

“Whose spaghetti sauce you love?” Dellarosa appeared as if out of thin air.

“Nina was just saying that she used to eat here when she was in college, and she liked the sauce,” Wes explained.

“Ah, Caramuzzi’s. My sister and her husband.” Dellarosa nodded. “We bought from them twelve years ago. How long it’s been since you were here?”

“Sixteen years,” Nina told her.

“You liked my sister’s sauce, you’ll love mine.” Dellarosa winked again and patted Nina on the back as she went into the kitchen.

“The decor is pretty much the same.” Nina looked around the restaurant.

“Same paintings, I think. Same music. Same menu. Not a lot has changed around here since you left.”

“So it would seem.” Nina glanced at the menu before closing it and setting it aside. “I did notice there were a few more shops out there on Main Street, some nice boutiques and a coffee shop. The bookstore is new, and I think there used to be a grocery store on the corner across the street. And there was a drugstore here somewhere, wasn’t there?”

“Yeah, Kimmel’s Drugstore was at the far end of the street. They sold out a few years back, when one of the chains built a store in that new mall right outside of town. There’s a big grocery store out there, too.”

“The streetscape looks pretty much the same, though. The store facades haven’t changed.”

“I think the local historical group is trying to keep the original architecture.” Wes looked up as the waiter approached. “Ahhhhh, here’s Benny with our wine. Thanks, pal.”

“Here’s your red, from Dellarosa’s private stock. She said to ask the lady how she likes it.” Benny poured from the bottle into one of the two glasses he carried in his left hand, and passed the glass to Nina.

“The lady likes it just fine,” Nina told him after tasting it, and Benny topped off her glass, then poured a glass for Wes. “Now, do we know what we’re having?”

“Depends on who’s in the kitchen,” Wes deadpanned.

“Tonight, Frankie’s sister Elle.”

“She makes the chicken piccata?”

Benny just smiled. “Will that be for two?”

“Nina?” Wes asked.

“Sure. I love chicken piccata.”

Benny gathered the menus. “She never had it like Elle’s, right, Detective?”

Wes tipped his wineglass in the direction of the kitchen before taking a sip. “She’s the best cook in the family.”

“I won’t tell her you said so,” Benny whispered, “because then Frankie would want to hurt you.”

He walked away as quietly as he’d appeared.

“Some place,” Nina said.

“The best in town,” Wes agreed.

They seemed to run out of things to say, so they each sipped their wine and pretended to watch the other diners.

“Were you able to locate Mrs. Owens?” Nina asked after the passage of a few too many minutes of silence.

“I haven’t had a chance to look.”

“I think she’s a good person for you to talk to. I’m surprised I didn’t think of her sooner. She knew everyone on the faculty.”

“I thought she was the English department secretary.”

“She was, that year. And for a few years before,” Nina explained, “but before that she’d been with the math department. And I seem to remember her telling me once that before that she’d worked for the history department.”

“So she really did know everyone.”

“I’m surprised that wasn’t reflected in the interview that was in the file.”

“I don’t remember an interview with her.” Wes frowned.

“Probably because it wasn’t you who spoke with her. It was someone named Raymond. He didn’t ask her very many questions.” She lifted her glass so her salad could be served. “It didn’t seem like he did a very good job.”

“Well, don’t say that too loud.” Wes grimaced. “Detective Raymond is now Chief Raymond. You passed him on the way into the station today.”

“Heavyset guy, all spit and polish. All uniformed up?”

“That was him.”

“He worked the investigation with you, back then?”

“He was the lead detective.”

“Hmmmm” was all Nina said.

“I take it you weren’t impressed?”

“Let’s just say they don’t do things that way on
CSI
.”

“Here’s a tip.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice as if sharing a secret. “No one really does things the way they do on
CSI
. That’s television. This is reality.”

“I like the TV way much better,” Nina said as she speared a sliver of cucumber. “It always ends up so neat and tidy.”

“It rarely does in real life, I’m afraid. With some cases, it seems like everything that can go wrong, does.”

“Do you think my dad’s case was like that?”

When Wes didn’t respond right away, Nina said, “I’m sorry. I guess that wasn’t a very good question.”

“It isn’t that it’s a bad question, it’s simply one I can’t answer. Back then, we didn’t have the benefit of technology that we have now. And yes, now we do have DNA and all kinds of tests that we can run, but it doesn’t always happen. And when it does, it isn’t always done right. There are labs that for years did DNA testing that were recently shut down due to irregularities in their testing procedures. So sometimes, even when you have the benefit of the technology, you get screwed over by human error.” Wes ate his salad for a minute, then told her, “Sixteen years ago, we really believed we had a lock on that case. We had the offender in cuffs within three days of finding the last victim. We’d looked at the evidence we had and we followed the trail right to your father.”

He put his fork down and looked across the table at Nina. “Now, in light of everything that’s come up these past few weeks, I have to wonder if we weren’t led to him by the real killer.”

“That upsets you.” She’d watched his face, and saw the conflicting emotions.

“Upsets me?” He considered the word. “I’m going to be more than upset if it turns out that someone concocted this scheme and led us through it. I’m going to be really pissed off. I don’t like being manipulated.”

“I don’t blame you.” She finished her salad and played with a rejected piece of tomato. “So that’s why you’re willing to see this through? Because you feel as if you were manipulated?”

“It’s one reason, but not the only one. If your father was unjustly accused, unjustly convicted, I will have that on my conscience for the rest of my life. He died a convicted murderer. There’s no way anyone could make that up to him, or to you. But oh, yeah, if someone set him up?” Wes’s jaw set squarely. “Will I find him? What do you think?”

“I think I’m glad I’m not the person who set him up.” Nina tilted her glass in Wes’s direction. “To justice, Detective.”

He was more than willing to drink to that.

T
wenty-one

It was dark by the time Wes and Nina left Dellarosa’s.

“Maybe you should wait until tomorrow to stop at the house,” Wes suggested.

“I might as well go now,” Nina said. “I’m really not afraid of Kyle. I still think you’re all wrong about him. And besides, I’m already here in Stone River.”

“All right. But here’s the way it’s going to be. I’m going to follow you and park in front of the neighbor’s house. I will watch you ring the doorbell. If you are convinced there’s no one inside, you will wave to me and use your key to go in. I will wait, cell phone in hand, for you to call me and tell me that no one is in there. If my cell doesn’t ring within a minute of you going through that door, I’m right behind you.”

“If you’re so concerned, why don’t you just come in with me?”

“Because you no longer own the house, and I would be entering unlawfully. And on the outside chance that you find something that could be used as evidence, my being there could cause it to be tossed later as part of an improper search. Let’s not take silly chances.”

“Aren’t I entering unlawfully?”

“Debatable. You’re a relative, and you have a key. You could make a case that you’re allowed to enter when the owner isn’t home, because he knows you have the key and permitted you to keep it. I’m a cop. I get no such slack.”

She nodded and walked to the Land Rover. “I’ll see you there, then.”

The drive to the Madden house—now Kyle Stillman’s house—took less than ten minutes. Nina parked right at the curb near the front door, while Wes drove past her and parked two houses up the street, in the shadow of some large trees. Nina got out of the car and walked up to the front door and rang the bell. She peered through the sidelights, then rang the bell again. After several tries, she took the key from her purse and opened the door. She turned to wave at Wes, then disappeared into the house.

The door had barely been closed behind her when Wes took his cell phone out of his pocket and began the countdown. He’d reached fifty-two when the phone finally rang.

“All clear here,” Nina told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Unless someone’s hiding upstairs.”

“Not funny.” He frowned. “Did you leave the front door unlocked?”

“I think so.” She paused. “Want me to go check?”

“No. I want you to get what you went in for and get the hell out.”

“What did I come in here for?” He could hear her shuffling papers around, and a moment later, he heard a file drawer close. “Oh, yes. I’m looking for Dad’s copy of
Hansen’s
. Which should be right about . . . here.”

“Is it?” Wes asked. “Is it there?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not on another shelf.”

He listened as she moved books around, knocked a few off the shelf and onto the floor.

“Oops.”

He heard her breathing into the phone, heard another drawer open and close. Heard her footsteps on the hardwood floor.

Heard a car in the driveway.

“Nina, you have to get out. Go out through the back. Kyle just pulled in the driveway.”

“If he pulled in the driveway, he’s already seen the lights on in the study. If I leave before he gets here, he’ll probably call in a burglary,” she told him calmly. “I’m going to stay here, he’ll come in, I’ll act very normal and very natural. I’ll tell him I decided I wanted to go through Dad’s books, and maybe take something back to New York with me. No big deal.”

“And it won’t be a big deal when I ring the doorbell about thirty seconds after he comes inside, so you’d better act surprised to see me.”

She hung up and he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He watched as the house lights went on from the kitchen through the hall. He walked around the side of the house until he could see into the study window. Nina stood behind her father’s desk, her cell phone in her hand. Apparently, in spite of her proclamations to the contrary, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of Kyle, either.

Kyle stood in the door, lighting a cigarette, and through reading body language and facial expressions, Wes could follow the conversation. Kyle had been surprised to see Nina. Nina was explaining how she’d decided that perhaps she might want a few of her father’s things after all. Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming, we could have had dinner? It was a whim, spur of the moment. I did call the house phone earlier, there was no answer.

There appeared to be a lull, and suddenly Wes was unable to read Kyle’s expression.

That’s it. Time’s up.
Wes walked back to the front of the house and rang the bell.

He was just about to ring it for the third time when he heard footsteps in the hall.

“Detective Powell.” Kyle opened the door. “You’re working late tonight.”

“I was on my way home, and I saw the lights on. I had a few questions and thought if you weren’t busy, now might be a good time to ask them.”

“Well, it isn’t a good time for me,” Kyle told him. “So if you’d like to stop by tomorrow, or the next day, that would be fine. Give me a call and we’ll make an appointment.”

“Actually, it will only take a few minutes.”

“Sorry, Detective. I have company, and I don’t have time to chat right now. If you’d like to come back tomorrow, I’ll be home all day. But tonight is not good.” Kyle started to close the door, and Wes was debating whether or not to stick out his foot to prevent the door from closing, when he saw Nina move into the hall behind Kyle.

“Kyle, I’m going to have to get going now, I’m staying with a friend and she expected me back hours ago and . . . “ She paused and peered around her stepbrother. “Is that Detective Powell I see?”

“Ms. Madden, nice to see you again.” Wes breathed a sigh of relief. He really hadn’t wanted to alert Kyle that he was a suspect at this stage of the investigation.

“Nice to see you, too.” She had a stack of books in her hands. To Kyle, she said, “I found a few old books of Dad’s that I’d like to take, if it’s okay with you.”

“They’re your books. I told you before, anything you want from this house, it’s yours. Just say the word.” He patted her on the back. “Next time, you might want to call first. Not that I mind you coming and going, I certainly don’t. But I’d like to be here when you’re here, so we can visit.”

“I’ll call first next time. Thanks again.” Nina scooted out past him and nodded to Wes as she went down the steps. “Detective.”

Wes nodded in return, and took a few steps backward. Kyle stood in the door, watching Nina get into her car. He continued to stare as she drove off. Wes couldn’t read the expression that crossed Kyle’s face, and it made him uneasy.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” Wes said as he went down the steps. “I’ll give you a call and you can let me know when’s a good time to stop by.”

“Well, you might as well come in, now that you’ve scared away my stepsister.” Kyle stepped back from the door and gestured for Wes to enter.

What the hell,
Wes thought as he stepped through the door.

“What was it you wanted to talk about this time?” Kyle asked, not nearly as hospitable as he had been the last time Wes had been there.

“Just a quick question or two. When I was here the other day, why didn’t you tell me that you’d gone through the police academy? That you’d been a Maryland state cop for several years?”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think of it, actually. That was years ago, and since you checked into my background, you know that my leaving MSP was not exactly on friendly terms. I just don’t think about that time anymore. Sorry if that made you feel suspicious toward me—apparently it has, or you wouldn’t be back here asking about it. There was no big mystery, though. Maybe if you’d asked me for my employment background instead of what I did for a living, it might have come to mind.” Kyle stood with his arms folded over his chest. “Was that all? Did you drive out here just to ask me about that?”

“I did want to ask you about your stepfather’s affairs.”

“What about them?”

“Were you aware that he was cheating on your mother?”

“Only after my mother told me.”

“When was that?”

“I really don’t recall.”

“Before or after the murders?”

“I don’t recall when they were, sorry.”

“The last one was in 1989. Surely you remember that.”

“I think maybe she didn’t mention it until after he was arrested, and it came out that he’d had all those girlfriends over the years. Yes, I’d have to say that was when I found out.”

“What was her demeanor?”

“She was devastated, of course. She loved Stephen.”

“The last time we talked, you said you knew about her affair with Overbeck.”

“Yes.”

“So did you know about your mother’s affair with him before you knew about Stephen’s affairs?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Just wondering which one she mentioned first.”

“I really don’t remember.” Kyle closed the door slightly. “Now, unless there’s something else . . . ?”

“That’ll do it for tonight.”

“Good night then.” Kyle stepped back, then said as he closed the door all the way, “And next time, call for an appointment.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Wes said as he went down the steps and onto the walk.

On his way back to the car, he dialed Nina’s cell phone. It occurred to him that he’d memorized it.

“Hi,” she answered.

“Hi, yourself.” Wes unlocked the car door and got in.

“You and Kyle have a nice chat?”

“Sure. He couldn’t wait to get me out of there.”

“I think he wanted to go back into the office and see what I’d taken.”

“You do?”

“Yes. He seemed really concerned that I was there, although he was certainly gracious.” She paused, then said, “I’m glad you were there. Something about him tonight put me on edge. I still don’t see him as a murderer, but thanks for being there.”

“Any time.” Wes turned the key in the ignition and drove away from the curb. “So, what did you find?”

“Just a few books that I did want to read again. I didn’t have time to find the
Hansen’s,
but I can go back again and look.”

“Not alone, okay?”

“I’ll take Regan with me next time. She has a black belt and is a crack shot. She has several handguns.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Uh-uh. She is armed and dangerous.”

“Who’d have thought it?”

“Well, she’s careful with her guns, but I guess living out on the bay, all alone, on that windy dark road with precious few neighbors, she needs to be able to protect herself.”

“As long as she knows what she’s doing.”

“She took lessons for years, and she still goes to a firing range at least once a month. She said she’s never had to shoot at anyone, but if the need ever arose, she wanted to know how to do it right.”

When he didn’t respond, she said, “Wes? You still there?”

“I’m here. I was just thinking, it’s too bad you couldn’t have gotten something with Kyle’s DNA on it.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“What?” He came to a stop sign and slammed on the brakes. “You found something?”

“Right under my nose.” He could all but hear the smile in her voice. “Kyle smokes cigarettes. He lit one up when he came into the study.”

“I saw through the window. So?”

“So when he went out to answer the door, he stubbed it out in the ashtray.”

“And you swiped it?”

“It’s wrapped in a tissue in my purse. I was so afraid it would start smoking while I was standing there next to him, I couldn’t wait to leave.”

“Where are you? Slow down and let me catch up.”

“I’ve been waiting for you. See the car stopped at the side of the road about one hundred yards up from the stop sign you just passed? Pull up alongside and roll down your window, and I’ll toss it to you.”

“You are one smart woman,” he told her as he slowed down and eased as close to the Land Rover as he could without sideswiping it.

“You betcha,” she said, and tossed the rolled-up tissue into the front seat of his car.

“Was this the only butt in the ashtray?”

“Not the only one, but the only one I knew for sure was his.”

“You might be in the wrong business.”

She laughed softly.

“’Night, Wes.”

“’Night, Nina,” he said as he put the evidence into his pocket, and watched her drive off into the night.

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