Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (17 page)

“Sounds good.”

“All right, then,” he said, grabbing the folder with the photos. “You ready?”

She stood. Sparky moved to follow her. “Not yet,” she said, and the dog flumped back to the floor.

Bill led her down the hall. She had never been in the back rooms, where the interrogations were done. She had informally questioned people before in an effort to help Bill with investigations, but there was something about the official nature of her impending conversation that suddenly made her nervous. It was different from the times when she did fire investigations. What she and Marvin said would be on record. She could either help solve the case or jeopardize it.

“You sure about this?” he asked, reaching a door.

She nodded. He tapped on the door and Rodney opened it.

“He say anything else?” Bill asked.

“Nope.”

Colleen peered around Rodney into a small room with a two-way mirror that looked into an even smaller room, where Marvin sat at a table.

“Colleen’s gonna talk to Marvin,” Bill said. “I want you in there with her.”

“Oh,” the deputy said, surprised.

“Move his chair near the window—profile.” He turned to Colleen. “I’ll be in here. The minute you feel uncomfortable or want out, let Rodney know.”

She wondered if all of this seriousness was necessary. But then she remembered Marvin’s threats to Sam and Lane. She gave Bill a thumbs-up. He entered the windowed room where Rodney had been observing Marvin. She followed his deputy to the next door and into the interrogation room.

“Chief McCabe’s come to see you, Marvin,” Rodney said. “Mind if we make some room for her?”

“I don’t have anything to say to her,” Marvin said, standing as Rodney took his chair and moved it so that Marvin’s profile would be in front of the mirrored window.

Rodney placed a second chair several feet in front of Marvin, motioned for her to sit, and stepped a few feet back. She peered at the window, unable to see anything but her own reflection. Her face belied her nervousness. If she was going to get Marvin to open up to her, she’d need to appear at ease—like someone wanting to understand him, rather than accusing him. She forced the muscles in her cheeks and forehead to relax, took a silent deep breath, and sat before Marvin.

“You’re wasting your time. Don’t know why the sheriff dragged you in here,” he said.

She studied the man’s face. He looked more troubled than violent now. Rather than get straight to the point, perhaps she could take a more circuitous route to the truth.

“I understand this has been a rough few weeks for you,” she said.

Marvin shifted in his seat, so the back of his head faced the mirror. Damn. She had to get him to turn his head in profile so that Bill could run through the pictures in the other room. She leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees, and moved herself as close to the side of Marvin that faced the mirror as possible. If he was going to talk to her, he’d have to shift his head back to look at her, and that would give Bill another shot with the ear identification.

“I know you’re upset about Doris,” she said gently. “And that you blame the theater production for her death; what I don’t understand is why.”

Marvin snorted and leaned back in his chair. He might not be talking to her, but at least the side of his head was to the window again. Perhaps she needed to put herself in Marvin’s shoes, tap into his feelings of jealousy. If he thought she knew how he was feeling, maybe she could find out why. It was a risky avenue to pursue, since it could further aggravate him, but it was the only one she could think of to take.

“It’s terrible when a person you care about keeps something from you,” she said. She felt the intensity of Bill’s gaze on her through the glass and realized Marvin wasn’t the only one she was at risk of upsetting.

She sighed, a real sigh, not just one for Marvin’s benefit. He glanced at her. He’s trying to ascertain if I’m speaking from a place of truth or if my emotional appeal is a ploy to get him to talk, she thought.

“You ever have someone lie to you? I mean someone you love?” he asked after a long pause.

She swallowed hard. She had broken through. How she answered his question could either lead to more information or cause him to shut down. But why had he used the word
love
? Her feelings for Bill were being forced into the open by a murder suspect. She’d have no idea how Bill would react, and that terrified her. She gave Marvin the only answer she could, the simple truth.

“Yes … and when I found out, it made me do things … things I’m not proud of.”

Marvin rubbed an arthritic hand. Her eyes narrowed. She hadn’t noticed how twisted the fingers on his right hand were until now. Could those hands really have enough strength to have held a rope around Rich’s throat?

“Why do you think people do that? Lie?” he asked.

She had a ton of answers she could give him, ones she had learned in her psychology classes back in college, but Marvin didn’t want a textbook answer. He wanted to know why Doris had lied to him. She didn’t know why his wife had lied, but she thought she knew why Bill had.

“I think sometimes the people we care about lie because they are trying to protect us.”

Marvin’s eyes welled with tears, but a second later he bit them back. “The only person Doris was interested in protecting was that charlatan she was sleeping with.”

Despite his ugly behavior, she felt sorry for the man. It was clear that he had loved his wife, whether their relationship had been a healthy one or not. She figured it was best to accept his belief that Doris had had an affair. There was no point in asking him to prove it.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” she pressed. “But how did you find out?”

Marvin stole a look at Rodney, who stood nearby, stone-faced and arms folded. Marvin wasn’t going to talk about his trouble with his wife with another man in the room, but there was no way Rodney was going to leave her alone. She leaned close to Marvin, close enough that if he had wanted to cause her harm, he could have.

“I believe you when you say Doris had an affair,” she said quietly, hoping Marvin would think Rodney couldn’t hear. She took a breath. “Did you do anything to Doris, Marvin?”

Marvin started. “What? No! It was that phony. He’s the one who got rough with her, and yet she still wanted to be in that stupid play.”

Colleen felt Rodney tense behind her. “Did someone assault Doris?” he asked.

Marvin scowled.

“Tell us what happened,” she said gently.

He hesitated and then it all came out in a rush. “Doris came home one night after rehearsal with her eyes all red and puffy, like she’d been crying. I noticed some welts on her arms and asked her what had happened. She said she’d bumped into set pieces or something, but those didn’t look like bruises from furniture. I told her she was gonna quit the play. She told me she’d leave me if she couldn’t be in the show. I’m not an idiot. Nobody acts like that over a stupid play, even if it is for our horses.”

“And what about Rich?” Rodney asked, stepping forward.

“Rich? I don’t know anything about that. I always liked the fella. But you wanna know who messed with Doris, you talk to that theater group. Me? I know it was Lane Walker.”

“Lane’s the charlatan?” she asked.

“Oh yeah. Doris was all upset. Talking about how people aren’t who they say they are. That you never know how mean a person can be. You talk to Lane. You’ll find out he’s not who he says he is.”

“Thank you,” she said, rising from her chair and reaching out to shake Marvin’s hand. She was genuinely thankful for his information, but the real reason for initiating the handshake was to feel the strength of his grip. He took her hand, squeezed, and she knew those were not the hands that had strangled Rich.

She and Rodney crossed to the door.

“Hey,” Marvin said. “Am I being charged, or can I go home?”

“We’ll let you know,” Rodney said, and exited.

As soon as she stepped into the hall, she took a deep breath. She hadn’t realized how tense the interview had made her. Bill joined them from the other room.

“So?” she said.

“No match. Marvin’s not the person Rich was trying to ID.”

“I don’t think he’s our guy, not with those hands,” she said.

“Looks like Lane’s decision not to press charges may have been for other than altruistic reasons,” Rodney said.

She checked her phone for the time. “I’ve got to head in to work.”

“You keep an eye on our friend in there,” Bill said to his deputy. “I’ll be right back.”

She and Bill approached his office to retrieve Sparky.

“Come on,” she said, and the dog sprang up, refreshed from his long nap.

“I’ll run a background check on Lane, see if anything pops up,” Bill said.

“It might be a good idea for us to drop in on rehearsal,” she said. “There’s obviously a lot more going on there, and it’s time we found out what.”

“I agree.”

Her phone buzzed to life. “I’d better take this. See you at rehearsal?”

“Yep.”

She headed down the hall toward the exit, saw the number of the incoming call, and hit the
ANSWER
button.

“What can I do for you, Pinky?” she said, hoping he wasn’t going to ask her to another “meeting” at Elizabeth’s.

“I’m at the house you’re gonna burn,” he said.

“Everything okay?” she asked, crossing the parking lot and letting Sparky into her vehicle.

“There’s something you need to see.”

“I’m due at the station. Can it wait?”

“No, I’m afraid it can’t,” he said, all seriousness.

Her brows furrowed. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I think it’s better if you see it.”

Something about the house clearly had him concerned. “I’ll be right there,” she said, and hung up. She hoped it wasn’t anything too serious. It wasn’t often they had a house donated for a burn exercise. She’d make the meeting quick—she still had a murderer to catch.

Chapter 14

“I wish I were
seeing you again under more pleasant circumstances,” Pinky said, and held out his hand to help Colleen from her SUV.

Say what you would about him, Pinky was certainly chivalrous. She took Pinky’s hand, not wanting to make a big deal about how she could get out of the SUV on her own. She was eager to find out what was on his mind. Sparky leaped to the ground and ran to a dune to take care of doggy business.

“You said there was something I had to see,” she said, scanning the house with a faded sign that read
SHORE LEAVE
.

“Inside,” he said, and led her up the overgrown driveway.

The building was the last of the original houses that had been built over twenty years ago, before Pinky had come to town and replaced them with the mansions that dotted much of today’s landscape. Most of the new homes had private pools, elevators, Jacuzzis, home theaters, state-of-the-art kitchens, gas fireplaces, and multiple bedrooms and baths. It was no wonder the modest two- or three-bedroom, two-bath homes like the one she was standing before now were being torn down. She walked with him under the house to a carport-level door.

“I first knew someone had been here from this,” he said, and pointed to a cut screen and an open window next to the door.

“A break-in?” she asked. “Why not call Bill?”

“You’ll see,” he said, and unlocked the door.

The door squeaked open and Sparky rushed in from out of nowhere.

“Heel,” she called.

“It’s okay,” Pinky said. “I closed off the room that I want you to see.”

Sparky scurried about the basement, tail wagging with excitement. The dusty, cobweb-covered room contained a washer, a dryer, and two rusty beach chairs. She followed Pinky and Sparky up the steps. The house hadn’t been used in quite some time. She caught up with them on the first floor. The smell of the musty brown carpet filled her nose, and she pressed her finger above her upper lip to keep from sneezing.

“You can see why I’m rebuilding,” Pinky said.

She had to admit the place needed work.

“The property I’m designing for this place will be a tropical oasis,” he said with pride.

“I’m sure it will be,” she replied with a smile. “So what is it that you want me to see?”

Pinky crossed to a door on the opposite side of the wood-paneled room, opened it, and stepped aside. She joined him and peered in. A sleeping bag lay in a corner of the room. Empty soda cans and crumpled bags of chips littered the floor near the sleeping bag. She stepped inside to get a better look and noticed a well-worn spiral notebook on top of the sleeping bag.

“A squatter?” she asked, kneeling to look at the notebook.

“Take a look inside.”

She retrieved the notebook and moved to a window. Inside were pages and pages of cutout magazine pictures of Hayley. Her heart raced. Had Pinky stumbled upon the stalker’s hideout? She studied the pages and discovered quotes glued between the pictures. One read “Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.” Under the quote was a picture of a radiant Hayley from a red-carpet event. Hearts and stars had been drawn around the actress’s image, and around the heart was scratched another quote: “Boldness be my friend.” She skimmed through the book. Numerous Hayleys smiled beautifully back at her. She flipped to the last few pages and discovered they had been less carefully arranged and some of the quotes had a more ominous tone. The final two read “False face must hide what the false heart doth know” and “Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land. The great ones eat up the little ones.”

“So what do you make of it?” Pinky asked, pulling her away from the notebook.

“A lot of Shakespeare,” she said, examining the rest of the belongings.

“Personally, I prefer quoting Shakespeare in pursuit of amour.”

I’m sure you do, she thought. “You find anything in the rest of the house?”

“Some crumbs in the kitchen and toiletries in the bathroom.”

“In here?” she asked, crossing to a room off of the bedroom.

She peeked inside and confirmed her suspicions. Hayley’s stalker was a woman. She had guessed as much from the childishly drawn hearts and stars, but the lipstick and eye shadow on the sink confirmed it.