River's Edge (26 page)

T
he rumor about Carson Graham’s affair brought things into focus. Cade still couldn’t see a motive, but Graham may well have lied about his whereabouts on the morning of May 16. They had never been able to confirm it. Either he witnessed the murder and saw Lisa’s car going into the river from the vantage point of Melanie’s property, or he’d been in place when Lisa came along, and had murdered her himself. And what was Melanie’s part in the crime?

Carson Graham wasn’t answering the door, even though his Palm Reading van was parked in his parking lot. Cade banged on the door. “Open up, Carson! We know you’re there. We want to talk to you.”

There was still no answer. He thought of having Caldwell kick the door in, but it was too visible from the busy street, and he didn’t want to call attention to what they were doing. Besides, he didn’t have an arrest warrant. Theoretically, Graham could evade them all he wanted until he got one.

But Cade wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “Let’s try the side door.”

He led McCormick and Caldwell around to the side of the house, where a warped door sat above concrete steps. The window was broken out, and the glass had fallen into the house. Someone from outside had smashed it in.

McCormick frowned at him. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a burglary. Question is, is he in there?” Cade drew his weapon and radioed for backup. Then, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he tested the knob. The door came open easily.

He led with his gun, checking all around him. Stepping over the glass, he moved into the kitchen. McCormick and Caldwell spread out, checking the laundry room, the pantry. Cade moved into the living room…

Carson Graham lay in the middle of the floor, a pool of blood under his head.

“In here!” He went to Carson’s side and felt for a pulse.

But it was too late.

The palm reader was dead.

T
he phone rang just as Blair was getting ready for bed. Hoping it was Cade, she grabbed it up.

“Hello?”

“Blair, this is Clara Montgomery.” The woman sounded excited. “I’m so sorry to bother you so late, honey, but I thought I’d give you a heads-up. There’s something going on across the street at Carson Graham’s. Police cars everywhere. Even an ambulance, but no one’s been brought out.”

Blair caught her breath. She couldn’t imagine what could have happened. Had Cade’s men gone to arrest him? Had he resisted arrest?

She thanked Clara, then grabbed her camera and rushed out to her car. She turned on her police scanner and listened to the chatter.

“…homicide…gunshot wound to the head…notify his wife…”

Was Carson Graham dead?

She made it to his house on Ocean Boulevard in just a few minutes and saw the glut of squad cars, a fire truck, and a rescue unit blocking the road. She pulled her car over and saw that Vince Barr had already beaten her there. He stood talking to a neighbor who stood in the street.

Blair bolted up to the first cop she saw, standing at the edge of the crime scene tape. “Ed, what happened?”

He hesitated. “Blair, I can’t talk to you. You’ll have to wait until Cade makes a statement.”

“I know it was a gunshot wound to the head. What caliber weapon was used? Have they got a suspect in custody?”

Ed looked agitated. “No comment, Blair.”

“Were they making an arrest, Ed? Was there gunplay between Graham and the police?”

“No. Absolutely not. They found him dead.” Ed turned away, ending her interview, so Blair started snapping pictures.

She heard the screeching of tires, a door slamming, feet running. Carson’s wife had come home from working at the hospital. Amber tore aside the crime scene tape and cut across the grass. One of the officers tried to stop her, but she wrestled away from him. “Carson!”

Blair just stood there, camera in hand, unable to photograph the woman in her terror. She watched as they escorted her into the house. Blair heard a loud, anguished scream and knew that Amber had seen her husband’s body.

Suddenly, the spectacle turned from drama to reality. She knew how it felt to be notified by the police, led to the scene of the crime, and shocked by the sight of a loved one’s lifeless body. She knew the grief that would follow.

She didn’t know Amber very well, but she wished she could cross that tape and comfort her somehow.

“Where’s Chief Cade?” a voice bellowed from behind her. She turned and saw Sam Sullivan stalking toward her. “I want to talk to him.”

“He’s kind of busy,” Ed said.

“Go get him!”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait until he comes out.”

“Young fella, you must not know who I am,” Sam bit out. “I am this town’s newly elected mayor. You’re my employee, and I told you to go in there and get Chief Cade, or I’ll do it myself.”

The young cop finally capitulated and went toward the house.

Blair stepped toward him. “Nice going, Sam. Way to flex those newly acquired muscles. You really know how to win friends and influence people.”

“Hey, I influenced enough to win the election, Blair—and I do appreciate all the paper’s support.”

Blair bit her lip and walked away. She gave Sam ad space because he’d paid for it fair and square, but now she wondered at the merits of unbiased reporting. Maybe she should have given more of her opinion.

She knew better than that. She’d vowed when she bought the paper that she would be an old-fashioned reporter, the kind who was objective and factual. But sometimes it just didn’t seem to pay.

She saw Ed coming back with Cade on his heels, so she slipped into the shadows behind some trees so her snooping around wouldn’t set him off. Her heart surged with compassion for Cade. He looked as if he’d had about all he could take.

“What can I do for you, Sam?”

“I want to know what happened here.”

“I’ll be making a statement when I have something to say. You’re welcome to wait here until I do.”

“Do you know who did this?”

“Not yet, Sam.”

“Does this have anything to do with the Lisa Jackson case?”

“We haven’t ruled anything out. Everyone related to this case will be questioned—and since you’re here, we can start with you.”

She would have expected a calm response, an easy flowing of information that might help. Instead, Sam looked as if he’d been slapped. “I know you’ve checked out my alibi, Cade. You know by now that I was telling the truth about where I was May 16.
I’ve had a hundred people around me all night tonight. I didn’t leave my victory party once until now, and I got to tell you, if you keep harassing me, you’re going to be in the unemployment lines even faster than you thought.”

She could see Cade’s jaw popping. “Wait here,” he said. “I’m sending McCormick out to question you.”

“Cade, I’m warning you!”

Shaking his head, Cade just turned and went back into the house.

Sam kicked the sawhorse holding up the yellow crime scene tape and knocked it over. Then he thought better of it and quickly picked it back up.

McCormick came out a moment later, and Blair stayed in her hiding place behind the tree. “Cade said you were here,” he said. “Why don’t you come sit in my car with me and answer a few questions?”

She saw Sam looking around to make sure no one heard. Blair stayed hidden, but strained to hear. “McCormick, Cade isn’t trying to connect me with this, is he?”

McCormick just looked at him. “Why do you ask that, Sam?”

“Because he knew that if I got elected I was going to fire him. Tell me that he’s not misinterpreting my little letter-writing hoax. I never would have written them if I’d known it was going to make me a murder suspect.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You only did it because you thought you wouldn’t get caught.”

“Hey, I was forthright with you people. I admitted everything. That’s got to count for something.”

Blair let the words sink in. So Sam
had
written the letters. He’d hung a motive on Ben. He’d made him look guilty—and he’d confessed to the police.

Could the mayor-elect be the killer?

She didn’t know, but her readers were about to find out what kind of man they’d elected. It would be worth staying up all night
to get out a special edition. Sam’s first act as mayor would be picking up the pieces of his own character.

She looked around to make sure Vince hadn’t heard the same thing. He stood in the next-door neighbor’s yard, trying to take pictures of the palm reader’s side door. He hadn’t heard a word of the exchange.

She hurried back to her newspaper office. Normally, she would have confirmed this with at least two other sources, but she’d heard it from the horse’s mouth. What could be greater confirmation than the man’s own confession? As fast as she could type, she wrote the headline article about Carson’s murder. She wrote furiously, trying to get everything down. At the bottom of the front page, she wrote about how Sam Sullivan had confessed to sending the letters to Lisa Jackson claiming her husband was having an affair. By morning, the residents of Cape Refuge would know what kind of man their new mayor was.

Half watching FOX News as she worked, she set about to paste in the articles that hadn’t fit in yesterday’s regular issue, including local club news and items about high school athletes and academic awards—anything to fill up this issue so it wouldn’t look so sparse.

Then she heard the News Alert.

“We have breaking news in the Lisa Jackson case. FOX News has just learned that Carson Graham, the psychic who led police to Lisa’s body, was found dead tonight in his home. Joining us now from our FOX affiliate in Savannah is Vince Barr of the
Observer.
Welcome back, Vince.”

She turned from her computer and gaped at the screen. How had he gotten to them so quickly? She turned up the set, and held her breath, praying that Vince wouldn’t report what she’d just spent the last hours writing.

“Good to be here, John. First, let me backtrack a little to explain that the police force of Cape Refuge had gone to question Carson Graham. It’s not clear what information led them to that. When Graham didn’t answer the door, they looked around and found that the glass on one of his doors had been shattered from
the outside. When they went in, they found the psychic dead on the floor.”

“How was he killed?”

“A gunshot wound to the head.”

“Do they have any leads on who may have killed him?”

“If they do, they’re not saying, John. My question, as I’m sure yours is, is why no one heard the sound of the gunshot. But his house is in a business district, if you will, and his next-door neighbors include an exterminator’s office and an insurance office. Both of these offices were closed, so no one would have heard. There’s also a lot of traffic on that street, so anyone across the street may not have heard, either.”

“Any theories on who might have killed him and why? And do we know for sure it has anything to do with the Lisa Jackson murder?”

“If it doesn’t, it’s quite a coincidence,” Vince said on a chuckle.

Blair leaned back hard in her chair, relieved that he didn’t seem to know about Sam’s writing the letters to Lisa. He would surely have told it if he’d known.

She had scooped him, she thought with a smile. And maybe now she had a chance to save Cade’s job.

D
awn had just broken when Cade reported to the police station. He’d been at Carson Graham’s all night, working with the detectives to gather enough evidence to determine his killer, but they made little progress.

Billy Caldwell met him at the door with a newspaper in his hand. “Chief, you need to see something.”

Cade glanced at the paper. It was the
Cape Refuge Journal,
hot off the press. The headline read, “Psychic Found Murdered.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Paper guy just delivered it. Special edition.”

Cade scanned the article, saw that it had no surprises. “She’s good. She had the scoop before the
Savannah Morning News,
or even the
Observer.
Guess she couldn’t wait to get it out.”

Caldwell pointed at the article at the bottom of the page. “Check
this
out.”

Cade glanced at the secondary headline. “‘Mayor-Elect Confesses to Fraud.’ Aw, no!” He grabbed a chair
and sank into it as his eyes ran over the article. “Tell me she didn’t write that.” Anger shot through him, stamping out his fatigue. “I want to know who leaked this.”

“It wasn’t me, Chief. I swear it.”

Cade bolted into his office and grabbed the telephone. He dialed Blair’s number, but she wasn’t home, so he tried her at the office.

“Cape Refuge Journal,”
she said in a tired voice. “Blair speaking.”

“I want to know where you got this information,” Cade bit out. “Give me a name, Blair.”

She hesitated. “What are you talking about?”

“Who leaked the Sam Sullivan story to you?”

“Nobody, Cade. I heard it for myself. Sam was spouting off to Joe, saying that he hoped you didn’t think his letter-writing scheme connected him to the murder.”

“Blair, you should not have reported this. It was police business.”

“I found it out fair and square, Cade, and the voters need to know what kind of man they just elected. It’s important news to this community.”

“Blair, nothing good can come of this. He’s going to think I leaked it in some feeble attempt to save my job. That’s not how I operate.”

“Cade, the article clearly says that I heard it myself. I’m sorry that you’re not comfortable with it, but it’s the truth—and it probably
will
save your job!”

“I told you to let me fight my own battles. Between you and Vince Barr, it’s a wonder I still
have
a job.”

That set her off. “Come on, Cade. This has all been a reporter’s dream, but I’m not the one who’s exploited it. I’ve been responsible with my reporting. You haven’t seen me milking this into a national story, parading myself on the major news shows like that Vince jerk has done. I’m tired of taking the heat from you for the stuff he’s doing. It’s not fair, and you know it.”

Maybe it
wasn’t
fair…Maybe Vince
had
gotten famous over this, and maybe it was all making him look bad. Maybe he
was
taking it out on her.

But he was tired, and he didn’t want to deal with these distractions anymore. He just wanted the case to be resolved.

“So where are we on Carson’s murder?” she asked. “I’ve been listening to the scanner all night, but nothing seems to be happening.”

“You’re not getting a thing out of me, Blair. I don’t want you reporting an arrest before it’s even made.”

With that, he hung up the phone and tried to swallow his anger so he could do his job.