Fruit of All Evil (9 page)

But as I reached the door, I heard a male voice moving in my direction. The person attached to the voice either was going to come in here or move on to the cell room.

I turned to examine the bathroom. There really was no other place to hide, no choices other than where everyone hides when they're hiding in a bathroom. I hurried into one of the two stalls, shut the door, locked it (glad I didn't need a purse strap to keep this one closed), and stood on the toilet. Along with all the adrenaline, there was a good dose of humiliation running through my system. I was hiding in the men's bathroom at the police station. A new low.

Sure enough, the person came through the door and switched on the light. He was talking on his cell phone as he went about his business, and fortunately he didn't attempt to open the stall door.

Once I thought I might not be discovered, I focused on who the person was. It didn't take long, because it was a voice I'd heard often enough. I was getting to know Drew Forsyth far too well.

“Yes, okay, I can talk better now,” he said. “I know. I did the best I could. I hope it was good enough.”

He said uh-huh a number of times before wrapping up the conversation by saying, “Enough was enough, you're right.” Pause. “I don't care, just make it look good. We'll talk later.” He snapped the phone shut.

I told myself that he could have been talking about any number of things, not necessarily about participating in his mother's murder. Nonetheless, I didn't like the sound of it.

He washed his hands, turned off the light, and left the room. I hurried off my perch, grabbed a paper towel and stuck it in my pocket, and hoped the hallway was clear.

Once out of the bathroom, I took a deep cleansing breath and gave myself a silent pep talk.
So far, so good. No one saw, so if I don't act guilty, no one will know what I've been up to
.

While trying to look casual, I hurried to the back room where the cells were located. I was greeted by one lone prisoner—Linda. This was worse than if she'd been in the interrogation room!

“Becca?” she said from her seat as I stood in the doorway.

“Oh, Linda, they arrested you?” I asked as I walked toward her. She was in the same cell that my friend Abner had been in six months earlier. I was beginning to wonder if it was used exclusively for Bailey's vendors.

“No, of course not. They separated us when we got here, that's all. This is where they put me.” She stood and walked out of the cell. “The most comfortable seat was in there.”

“Oh, Linda, how are you?” I hugged her, relieved that she was still a free woman.

“I'm okay. Terrible dinner party, though, huh?” She gave a strained smile.

“I'm so sorry about Madeline.”

“Me, too. Really. Though she was a tough cookie, she was Drew's mother and my future mother-in-law. And what a horrible way for anyone to go. It's hard for me to believe that anyone deserves that.”

“How's Drew?” I asked.

“I think he's okay. He seems to be handling things all right. It's in his makeup to be the ‘strong one.' He'll probably have some sort of delayed reaction, but we'll see.” She smiled again, but her eyes were watery and sad. I felt terrible for her. “But to be honest with you, Becca, I just don't know. Drew and his mother haven't had much of a relationship over the last ten years or so—I know this is upsetting to him, but whether he'll be sad she's gone or sad he didn't get the relationship where he wanted it to be, I don't know. I don't want to burden you with all that now.” She paused and looked over my shoulder. “What are you doing in here?”

“I had to use the bathroom,” I lied. I wanted her to burden me with more, but now probably wasn't the time.

Linda nodded. “I bet Sam won't be pleased you stopped by to say hi to me. You'd better get back.”

“Probably. But are you okay, really?”

“I'm fine. Shook up, but fine. Oh, Becca, of course we're postponing the wedding until Drew gets back from active duty,” she said.

Just that morning, I'd wished for some sort of miracle to get me out of being in the wedding, but now my heart sank. This wasn't the type of miracle I was shooting for, and even though Madeline being killed should trump wedding plans, I knew postponing the event would break Linda's heart. On the other hand, if his phone call was any indication that Drew was involved in the murder, Linda shouldn't ever marry him. I wasn't ready to jump to those conclusions, though.

“Linda, I'm so sorry. He still has to go—
on his mission or active duty or whatever . . .
?” I whispered.

“Yes. We were only able to talk before the police arrived, but it was the first thing he wanted to tell me—that he was going to have to go, no matter what. Drew is committed to what he does. I think the only way he could be stopped would be if he was arrested for the murder, but that's not a possibility. He'll do what he thinks is the right thing to do.”

“Oh,” I said, because I wasn't sure what else to say. Had Linda wondered the same things I was now wondering? How could Drew possibly handle leaving at this time? Was the fact that he was leaving just good timing? Was he headed out of town, probably to another country, just in time to pull off a murder, ditch his bride, and disappear beyond potential prosecution? I hated thinking these sorts of things about Drew Forsyth, but I couldn't ignore obvious possibilities. I wondered if Sam would let Drew leave. Did the Monson police have enough power to keep someone from
military duty
?

She saw the question in my eyes and said, “I know he couldn't have killed her because he was with me. I was upset about Madeline's ‘show' at Bailey's this morning. Drew came over, and we . . . well . . . anyway.”

“I get it,” I said. I was relieved if she and Drew had spent the afternoon together. Linda's fair skin gave away their activities every time. Whenever she and Drew spent time together, I could discern the details by the shade of red her cheeks took on. Linda's blush told me two things: One, I didn't think she was lying about being with Drew. And two, they'd had a great time. I deduced a third detail—their good time hadn't occurred in the process of committing a murder. I wanted to believe her.

What if the murder was solved quickly? Drew was scheduled to leave a week from today, Friday. Could Sam and his officers figure out who the killer was in that short amount of time? It all depended on the evidence, and I didn't know what evidence they had. Sam would find a way to detain Drew if he thought it necessary.

As these thoughts collided in my mind, a nugget of a plan began to take shape. What if—just what if—the crime was solved in a few days? Maybe—just maybe—Linda and Drew could still get married before he left. I knew the way to the justice of the peace. I could drive them there. It was probably a silly idea, but Linda's blush reinforced how much the two of them wanted to be together, and how just this morning it had been of the utmost importance that they marry before Drew left.

I wasn't going to voice my thoughts to Linda. At the moment they were more like pulses of thought that weren't fully formed anyway. Plus, they were probably the result of the guilt I felt over my lack of excitement over being asked to be her Number One.

“Linda, take a deep breath. Good. One more. Good. Sam will solve this quickly. All will be well.”

“I hope so. I appreciate your optimism.” Linda laughed awkwardly and wiped away a stray tear. “Hey, speaking of Sam, you need to get out of here before he finds you talking to me. He was pretty clear on wanting us all separated.”

I quickly hugged her again. “Call me tomorrow or later tonight if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, Becca.”

I left Linda and made my way down the empty hall. I'd told Sam I wasn't going to investigate Madeline's murder, but my mind was changing. Even though I was confident that the blush on her cheeks gave me accurate information, I still wasn't one hundred percent sure that Drew wasn't involved in the murder. I didn't
know
Linda wasn't, either, but I held onto my doubt. Sam was great at his job, but there were plenty of things I could look into without getting in his way. If the murder was solved before Drew left, he and Linda could go on with their lives, and I wouldn't have to worry about my friend marrying a killer.

I passed the restrooms on my left. On my right was the interview room. I couldn't resist, so I stopped and put my ear to the door. I could hear voices, but the only distinguishing feature I could make out was that there was one male voice and one female voice. Other than that, I heard nothing. I didn't think I needed to be caught in such a pose, so I moved along.

The door to the station, where everyone else was, was closed as well. I pulled the paper towel out of my pocket, opened the door, and made my way through as I wiped my hands on the towel.

Sally, Mid and Officer Sanford were still in the room, but Shawn, Drew and Officer Norton were nowhere to be seen. I deduced that the female voice I'd heard in the interview room must have been Officer Norton, but I didn't know who was attached to the male voice. Ian was still sitting across from Sam. His eyes flashed surprise, but only briefly. He knew that showing surprise wasn't wise. He'd be in cahoots with me even if he wasn't sure exactly what he was in cahoots about.

Sam, though, was keenly observant of everyone and everything. He turned and looked at me with one eyebrow high. Suddenly he was angry.

“Becca, what were you doing? How did you get back there?” he asked.

“Using the restroom.” I threw the paper towel in a gray metal garbage can next to an unoccupied desk.

“I didn't see you walk past. Why didn't you just use the restroom in the hallway?”

I shrugged and continued walking. I was sure I'd have to discuss this further with him. He was a police officer, after all, but he was pretty busy at the moment. I walked purposefully and innocently past them.

“I'll be out in the truck, Ian,” I said.

He nodded.

I kept walking and didn't look at anyone else. Before I knew it, I was in the hallway and no one was chasing me. I hurried toward the stairway but skidded to a waxedlinoleum stop and turned around.

I'd almost forgotten! And I had to know. I ran to the end of the dark hall and tried to pull up the window. It didn't budge. I stood on my tip-toes and looked at the lock. My face burned in guilty fear when I saw that the lock was securely back in place. Someone had seen what I was doing and had locked me out—left me to stand on the ledge.

Or had they locked me out with the hope that I'd fall off the ledge and onto the hard ground of the courtyard?

Who? The killer?

Oh, yes, I was most definitely back in the detective business.

As Ian got in the truck, before he could ask me any questions,
I asked him about his interview with Sam.

“Sam believed that Madeline and I hadn't spoken and that I hadn't reached her yet. I didn't save her message, but it was a quick one. She just said to call her back. When I told him why we'd been in contact, he was interested more in Bud Morris's situation than in me. At the moment, I think he has a lot of potential suspects, and bank customers are probably high on his list.”

“What about Drew or Linda or anyone else at the party?”

“As suspects?”

“Yes.”

“He didn't share anything with me, but he did ask me again about everyone's behavior at dinner. I told him the same things I told him when he talked to me at Madeline's. I said that aside from Drew and Linda, I thought they were an unusual bunch, but what bunch isn't? We didn't spend enough time together to know much about any of them.”

“Yeah, I thought the same thing. They're odd, but not in a murderous way.”

“Whatever that is,” Ian said.

“Good point. We never really know for sure, do we?”

“The good news is that apparently both our alibis are airtight.”

“That's good news.”

“You want to tell me why you came out of the back hallway?” Ian asked after a beat.

“Oh, that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I won't go into detail how I got there, just in case you're ever forced to testify against me for some reason or another”—I smiled—“but I made my way back to the holding cells and the interview room. I couldn't hear what was being said in the interview room, but Linda was in an unlocked holding cell and I talked to her a minute. In no particular order, the wedding's off, Drew's still leaving, and I think I believe her when she says that she and Drew were together the entire afternoon until the dinner, and they couldn't have killed Madeline.” I didn't want to tell Ian about the window because he'd be both annoyed and concerned, and he'd be very concerned if I told him how it had been locked again.