Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) (13 page)

“They seemed to be doing fine. Jenkins was a little rough around the edges, but Barry decided to back him anyway. He does good work and came highly recommended. Barry took care of the financial end and Jenkins the contracting part. Barry landed the deals, and there have been a couple of big ones. They built those new condos out by the golf course and were negotiating for the new mall south of town.”

“Wow.”
Candace wasn’t kidding when she said the company was doing well.

Angel waited for Fitzgibbon to leave, then backed out of the parking space and headed for the main road. She remembered reading about the mall and the controversy surrounding it. She must have read about the partnership, but it hadn’t registered.

“I think I know where you’re going with this, but you won’t get far,” Brandon said. “Barry and Jenkins didn’t always see eye to eye, but they had a good thing going. I can save you some time. Barry doesn’t benefit from Jenkins’s death, so don’t be looking for a motive there. He stands to lose millions unless he’s able to come up with another contractor by next week.”

“Hmm.” Angel wasn’t ready to drop the idea just yet. “Fitzgibbon doesn’t benefit at all from Phillip’s death? Seems like he would have had some kind of backup plan. An insurance policy or something in case Jenkins was hurt.”

Brandon’s silence gave Angel the answer she was looking for. “How much was it for?” she asked.

“I can’t divulge that kind of information, and you know it. You shouldn’t even be asking.”

“Come on, Brandon, at least give me the name of the insurance company.”

“I’ve said too much already.” Brandon sounded hurt. “Friends shouldn’t use friends to ferret out information.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take advantage of our friendship. I’m just trying to do my job.”

“Right. And I’m trying to do mine.” He chuckled. “Just for the record, I think you’ll make a great PI.”

“You do?”

“Are you kidding? You are one of the nosiest people I know.”

“Gee, thanks a lot. Speaking of nosiness, how are you and Michelle Kelsey getting along?”

“Great. Although my parents are horrified that I’m dating her. They keep asking me why I don’t get back together with you.”

“Ha! You’re kidding.”

“No, seriously. I guess they figure you’re the lesser of two evils.”

“Tsk, tsk, Brandon. You and your bad girls,” Angel teased. “What a rebellious son you are.”

“Yep. That’s me.” A click indicated another caller on the line. “I have to go, Angel. Let’s have lunch together one of these days.”

“Sounds good. Call me.” Angel hung up and made another quick call to Nick to let him know she was on her way out to the Jenkins’s farm.

“I’m about to leave,” Nick told her.

“Could you hold up a few minutes? I’d really like to talk to you.”

“All right.” He sighed. “I’ll wait for you. You’ll need the key to get in anyway.”

“I should be there in ten minutes max.”

She had a little over an hour to get to the farm and back to the school to pick up Brian and Dorothy. Fortunately, traffic was light on the main road that led through the historic town. On her way to the farm, she stopped at the market to verify the accuracy of the time on the cash register tapes. Except for a few seconds here and there, they were all in sync.

Nick was leaning against his car when she arrived at the farm, his arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles.

“Well?” he said when she stepped out of her car.

“Well what?”
Is he still mad about last night?

“Aren’t you going to ask? You want to know why I arrested Candace so soon?”

“I suppose you have your reasons. You told me last night you thought she did it.”

“Darn right. I still do.”

“Do you really have enough evidence to hold her?”

“Try obstructing justice for openers. Fingerprints on the weapon and gun residue on her hands. She had motive, means, and opportunity. She tried to get rid of the evidence. Not that any of that is your business.”

“Actually, it is. I’m working as a PI for Rachael Rastovski, who, by the way, is Candace’s attorney.”

“So she lawyered up. Why am I not surprised?” Nick glared at her. “What does surprise me is that you’d sink that low.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a private investigator.”

“Humph. There is when you’re working for the enemy.”

“I don’t get it. I mean, you act like Candace is public enemy number one.”

“She’s got everyone feeling sorry for her. Poor little abused spouse. She comes home and finds her husband dead and she’s so upset she destroys most of the evidence.” He unfolded his arms and stepped away from the car. “Get real, Angel. She’s not stupid. Everyone knows you don’t mess with a crime scene. We’re going to go for murder here. Straight-out premeditated murder.”

Why are you being such a jerk?
“Candace thought it was suicide. And she isn’t the first woman to clean up a crime scene.”

“And you believe her?”

“I guess I do.” In all honesty, Angel wasn’t sure about Candace, but she did take exception to Nick’s bullying tactics.

“Then you’re out of your mind. But hey, if you think you can do better, go ahead and snoop around. Be my guest.”

“I don’t think I can do better, Nick. And I’m not criticizing you. I just don’t think there’s enough evidence to prove she did it.”

“Well, I do.” He started to walk away.

“Nick? What’s going on with you? Why are you being like this? I thought we were friends.”

“We are.” He raked a hand through his dark hair. “Nothing’s going on that a good night’s sleep won’t fix. I’m sorry I got irritated with you.”

“Apology accepted.” Angel placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I noticed that the gun was in Jenkins’s left hand.”

“That’s the side his wound was on.”

Angel bit her lip, wanting to be careful not to offend him. “He had his food and his beer on the right.”

Nick settled his hands on his hips and closed his eyes. “I noticed that too. So tell me what you found out, detective.”

“Candace said he was right-handed.”

“Your point?”

“Like you said, she’s smart. Don’t you think that if she was staging a suicide, she’d have put the gun in his right hand?”

“Not necessarily. She may not have thought about it.”

“Okay. There’s something else.”

“What?”

“Do you think there might be a connection between the Kelsey murder and this one?”

Nick groaned. “Come on, Angel.”

“They were both abusers and—”

“And that’s where the similarity ends. Give it a rest. We’ve got our killer, and Joe can’t see spending a ton of money on this when we need it in other areas. Like hiring someone to take your place.”

So that’s where the animosity and the rush to judgment were coming from. Angel bit her tongue in an effort not to argue. She could understand tired. She could understand a budget stretched beyond the limits. But she could not understand dropping an investigation this early in the game. “I’d like to go through the house if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.” Nick handed her a key. “We don’t need this one anymore; you can lock it in the house when you’re done. If you come up with anything, let me know.”

“I will.”

She started toward the house.

“Hey, Angel.” Nick had one foot in his car.

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations on the new job.”

“Thanks.”

“Does this mean you won’t be coming back to the department when your leave is up?”

“I don’t know, I’m looking at my options. At the moment, I kind of like the idea of being a PI. Pay is good—or will be.”

“Humph.” He started the engine, closed the door, and rolled down the window. “Just be careful.”

His words rang in her ears as she hurried toward the empty house.

FIFTEEN

A
ngel stood on the porch and watched Nick leave. Realizing she was now alone, she had a sudden chill. She glanced toward the barn. Not really alone—there were half a dozen animals in there waiting to be watered and fed. She strode to the barn and shoved the door wide open. The animals greeted her with their baas and moos and whinnies.

She heard a scraping sound in the loft above and froze.

“Hello?” she called out. “Is someone up there?”

No one answered, and Angel decided her mind was playing tricks on her. The sound had probably come from one of the stalls.

Angel had considered waiting for Brian and Dorothy and letting them take care of the chores but decided she’d better at least water the animals. Seeing a hose lying snakelike on the floor, she followed it to a spigot and turned it on. As she moved toward the stall where she’d seen the baby goat the day before, she noticed the water container had already been filled.

Her heart ripped into overdrive again, and she told herself to stop being silly. Maybe Nick had taken care of the animals. Or a neighbor. She’d have to find out who and thank them.

Angel threw off the trepidation she felt and jogged from the barn to the house. She started to insert the key in the door and stopped, choosing instead to explore the exterior of the house. From what she’d seen the day before, there didn’t seem to be a way to enter the house that Phillip Jenkins couldn’t see an intruder coming. They had seen no signs of forced entry, which probably meant Jenkins knew his killer.

Angel walked all the way around the house, peeking in windows and getting a better idea of the layout. Besides the entry into the kitchen, which was closest to the driveway and appeared to be the entrance most used, Angel found three others. Two were at the back or south end of the house, one of which looked like a root cellar with two boards lying at an angle and secured with a two-by-four shoved through two handles.

The third was the formal entry on the west side. Angel decided to try the various entrances to determine accessibility to the living room and hopefully come up with some idea of how the killer, presuming it wasn’t Candace or Gracie, had gotten into the house without being seen. Of course, that was an assumption as well. Jenkins may have known his killer and made the mistake of turning his back on him—or her. The cousin Gracie had mentioned may have come to visit. There were any number of possibilities. Rachael needed options, and there seemed to be plenty.

Since she found herself at the front entrance, Angel opted to go in that way first. The true front of the house faced west and had a scant view of the ocean. A decorative stone walkway led from the parking area on the north to wide wooden steps. Candace had decorated this entrance as beautifully as she had the back with wicker furniture, colorful cushions, and plants.

Using the key Nick had given her, Angel let herself in. The door creaked as it swung open. She stepped inside and found herself in a wide entry. To her right were the stairs leading to the second floor, and just ahead, the living room, where Phillip Jenkins had been shot. Her breath caught. The snacks and beer still sat on the table beside the recliner.

“Well,” Angel said aloud. “We know one thing. There’s no way anyone could have sneaked up on him. If Jenkins’s killer had come in this door, he’d have heard the squeak.” Angel opened and shut the door several times. It needed a healthy dose of WD-40. Of course, the game noise could have muffled the squeak. She walked over to turn on the set, aware of the fact that she had not taken off her shoes and feeling guilty about it. The sound came on at about the same level he’d had it. Going back to the door she let the breeze swing it open while she went back to the recliner. She could still hear the squeak, but maybe it was one of those noises Jenkins would tune out. Of course, the door could have been left open to air the place out. Even so, Jenkins would have seen someone coming in.

She imagined Jenkins sitting in the chair, intent on the game, the killer coming behind him and stepping to his side long enough to pull the trigger.

“Who are you?” Angel asked the faceless image. “How did you get the gun?”

Candace had easy access to the gun case and to her husband. No wonder Nick seemed so intent on charging her.

“There has to be somebody else,” Angel mumbled. “Someone who had ample opportunity.” Gracie? Darryl? Another family member? A good friend? A partner? Angel tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She needed a lot more information than she had.

It would also help if you knew what you were doing.
Angel ignored the self-inflicted jab, choosing instead to believe she could unearth sufficient evidence to show that Candace wasn’t the only person with motive, means, and opportunity. Maybe in all the unearthing, she’d actually find the real killer.

Once again, she walked around the living room looking at the photos. She wished Candace were here to tell her who the people in the photos were. She assumed the older couples to be parents and grandparents. Using the process of elimination, Angel managed to figure out which parents belonged to Candace and which to Phillip. Candace looked a lot like her mother.