Murder on Cape Cod Page 12

  Chapter Nineteen

  Istared at the detective. “Prison? Derrick? But when? And why?”

  Tim covered my hand with his. He looked surprised too.

  Haskins consulted his notebook. “For two years. You were released on March first a year ago.”

  “That’s right.” Derrick finally looked at me. “I told you I’d been living with monks in Switzerland, trying to stay sober and get my act together. But I wasn’t. I did go to Europe to pick up Cokey after I was released, when her mom, my ex, said she didn’t want her.”

  “You came back to live in Westham about the same time I did last spring.” I nodded slowly. “At least being in prison explains how you could have left Cokey for two years. That had always seemed wrong for a father so devoted to his little girl.”

  “I’m sorry, Mac.” My brother clasped his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry for all of it. But especially for not telling you.”

  Haskins cleared his throat. “How did you pay Mr. Lacey?” he asked Derrick. “And what did he threaten you with if you didn’t pay?”

  “He gave me deposit slips to his bank account. I put the money in every month. I didn’t want to see him if I could help it, so I insisted on that method.”

  “That’s why you turned your back when Jake came into the shop,” I said, leaning forward.

  Derrick gave a single nod in return.

  “And the threat?” the detective reminded him.

  “He said he’d make it public that I’d been incarcerated. I felt ashamed about it. Dirty. And I didn’t want my only daughter thinking I was a criminal. Or you, Mac.” Derrick’s eyes pleaded with me.

  “Where were you on Tuesday after five thirty?” Haskins asked.

  Would my brother tell the truth? I was still reeling from learning he’d been in prison. My world felt like it had been caught in a big wave, tossed and tumbled in all directions.

  Derrick squared his shoulders but studied his hands for a moment. “I went to tell Jake I wasn’t going to pay him any more money. I was sick of hiding behind him, owing him. We’d arranged to meet outside the food pantry at six after the free dinner. But he never showed. I waited and waited. The fog had already come in and it was damp and miserable, plus I had the book group showing up. So I headed for home on the path near your yard, Mac. And there he was.”

  “You didn’t report the body.” The detective adjusted his glasses as he gazed at Derrick.

  “No. I panicked. I didn’t think anyone would believe me because of my past with him. I ran all the way home.” His voice shook.

  I cocked my head. “That explains why you were late to book group and why you were breathing heavily when you arrived. Now your being nervous that night makes sense.”

  “It also explains your absence the last two days, with a bottle of bourbon to top it off,” Tim added.

  “I’m sorry, sis. I know I acted irresponsibly. I let you down. Again.” Derrick shook his head, then winced and squeezed his eyes shut.

  It looked as if his head was hurting. I wasn’t surprised. Derrick would have a major headache even if he hadn’t fallen and cut his temple.

  “If you’d called it in, stayed with him, Mr. Lacey’s life might have been saved.” Haskins lifted his eyebrows.

  “Oh, no.” Derrick opened his eyes. “He was already dead. No question about that.”

  The detective checked his notebook. “Do you know of any other people in the area who might have had grievances with the victim? Anyone you’ve seen around town, any other acquaintances from your incarceration who might have showed up?”

  Derrick tented his fingers. “No. I can’t help you with that. Like I said, I avoided Jake wherever possible. And I haven’t seen anyone I recognize from that time. But Lacey wasn’t an easy man. He liked to get under people’s skin. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had plenty of enemies wherever he went.”

  The clock on the mantel chimed eleven times. Derrick drained his coffee, while Tim and I sat together, silent. Was Haskins going to arrest my brother? My palms grew sweaty as I waited.

  The detective studied us, then stored his pen in his shirt pocket, clicked off the recording, and stood. “Thank you for your time, all of you. I expect we’ll find your fingerprints on your knife, Mr. Searle, since it was your knife, after all. But I can’t arrest you without hard evidence.” His expression grew grave. “Believe me when I say we’ll be looking for it. I’d appreciate you staying close to home until you hear otherwise from me.”

  Derrick rose, too. “I’m not going anywhere. As my sister reminded me earlier today, I have work here, and friends. But most important, I have family members who need me.”

  “You might want to avoid the liquor stores, too,” Haskins advised.

  “Yes, sir. You can count on that.”

  I knew from Derrick’s experience how hard that truly was, and hoped he would get the help he needed, from AA if not from other sources. A person of interest in a homicide couldn’t afford to get into even more trouble.

  My gaze drifted onto my bag on a side table where I’d laid it. “Detective, before you go, I have a clue for you.” I stood and went to my bag, then handed him the button. “I saw this by the side of the path earlier today. It was right where I found Jake’s body, and it’s clean. It has to have fallen off someone’s coat recently. I picked it up with the tissue, and I marked the spot. That was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?”

  Haskins frowned and held out his hand for the tissue-wrapped button. A heavy sigh slid out of him. “I’m glad you didn’t touch it directly, Ms. Almeida. But next time, just call us.” He glanced at Tim. “Got a clean plastic bag I can have?”

  Tim hurried into the kitchen. Why hadn’t Haskins even thanked me? “Is there something wrong, Detective?” I asked.

  “We need to be the ones to retrieve pieces of evidence. We have procedure to follow so that items like this will be admissible in court. It’s a done deal now, but in the future please don’t move anything you think might be important to the case. Let us handle it.”

  My excitement at finding what might be a real clue turned to a bad taste in my mouth. What if I’d just spoiled the case against Jake’s killer?

  Chapter Twenty

  The front door clicked shut. Tim, who had seen the detective out, popped his head into the living room.

  “I’m going to tidy up the kitchen.” He couldn’t hide a yawn. “You hungry, man?” he asked Derrick.

  Derrick started to shake his head but thought the better of it. “Actually I’m starving. Just realized.” He made as if to stand.

  Tim waved him down. “I’ll heat you up a plate. You slept through dinner.”

  And Derrick had had a liquid lunch, too.

  “Thanks, dude.”

  I smiled my gratitude, as well, then gazed at my brother. “I feel like my world got thrown up into the air and everything came down different.” I kept my voice gentle. But I did want some answers. The hurt of it split my heart, that he’d never told me. If my parents knew, they hadn’t let me in on the secret, either. My world had gotten stood on end.

  “And I feel like I’m going to be saying I’m sorry a lot. But I am, truly. What I did was stupid, from Tuesday right through this afternoon. I’m forty-effing-one, Mac. You’d think I’d learn.” He pounded his fist into the palm of the other hand, over and over.

  “We always have time in our lives to learn, don’t we? You shouldn’t beat yourself up about it.”

  “I guess.”

  I waited but he didn’t offer any more information so I kept talking. “I want to know where the prison was, why you were in, all of that. But it’s even more urgent now that we figure out who killed Jake. I know it wasn’t you.”

  “That’s the truth. I hope you believe me.”

  “I do, of course. We need to convince Detective Haskins of that before somebody makes up some evidence simply so they can show an arrest.”

  Derrick rubbed the cuff of his right sleeve with the fingers of his lef
t hand. “I don’t think I should be part of this ‘we,’ sis.”

  “Well, I’ll find the killer, then. But the question is, who was it? I have to find him.” I straightened the coasters on the coffee table that had started to slide off their stack.

  “Or her.” Derrick raised his eyebrows. “Equal opportunity murder.”

  Tim returned and set a plate, fork, and paper napkin on the side table next to Derrick. “Get you anything, Mac?”

  Now I wanted that second glass of wine, but despite what I’d said to Tim earlier about Derrick not minding if others drank alcohol in front of him, I didn’t think now was the best time for that. “I’d love a glass of seltzer, please.”

  Derrick dug into the scallops and potatoes. Tim brought back a glass of clear bubbly for each of us a minute later, plus a plate of oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. We all ate in silence for a bit.

  I swallowed the last of my cookie. “Were you telling Haskins the truth, Derrick, that you don’t know of anybody in town who’d rubbed Jake the wrong way? And you really haven’t seen anyone who you knew during your incarceration?” I had trouble even pronouncing your and incarceration in the same breath, but I was obviously going to have to get used to it.

  “Truth. I haven’t seen anyone in town I knew there except Jake. Or anywhere on the Cape, even, but I haven’t been looking. You know me since I’ve been back, Mac. I mind my own business. Hang out with Cokey and the family. Work in your shop. Play trivia on Thursdays. I lead a pretty quiet life. However, I think Jake followed me here, or came here because this is where I was returning. We were released on the same day.”

  “Really?” Tim asked.

  “Really. Didn’t he show up about the same time I did last year?” Derrick asked.

  “Actually, he got to Westham before you did,” I said. “I recall because we served a Saint Patrick’s Day dinner at the soup kitchen and Jake introduced himself to me. I’m pretty sure it was last year’s dinner, not this year’s.”

  “The little rat.” At a glance from me, Derrick added, “May he rest in peace.”

  “And you didn’t roll into town until Mother’s Day,” I added. “Remember how happy Mom was?”

  Derrick nodded. “Right, because I went to France to get Cokey. I had to hang around a while so she got to know me again, trusted me enough to take her.” He set his demolished plate on the table, and reached for a cookie. “Seriously, Mac. I think he had planned to blackmail me all along, as soon as he found out I was from here. He had some notion everybody on the Cape is rich and has limitless pockets.”

  “What was Jake in for?” I cocked my head.

  “Low-level embezzlement.”

  Tim yawned again. He kissed my cheek and stood. “I’m sorry, I have to hit the sack. That four o’clock alarm is going to bust my ass. A bakery’s a bakery, though, and it’s mine.” He extended a hand to Derrick, who shook it. “Make yourself at home, man. A robe hangs on a hook on the back of the door in your room, and you’ll find clean towels in the bathroom cabinet.”

  “I really appreciate it.” Derrick extended his hand and shook Tim’s. “Appreciate everything you did for me today, both of you, and I owe you. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

  “Hey, bro. Any brother of Mac’s is a brother of mine. Even though she’s definitely not my sister.” Tim shot me a wicked grin, blew another kiss my way, and headed down the hall.

  “You got a good man there, Mackie,” Derrick said after a moment. “He didn’t have to trust me. Give me his guest room. Say that about being his brother. Lots of guys wouldn’t have.”

  I nodded slowly. “He’s a keeper, all right.” I flashed on what our father had said this morning when I called him. I’d asked if Derrick had said where he’d been the day before, and Pa had said that was Derrick’s story to tell. Was it a bigger story than I’d suspected? I sat back against the sofa arm and tucked my feet up on the cushion. I was tired, too, but I had to see this conversation through. “Pa knew you were in prison.”

  Derrick eyebrows went way up. “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t. But I picked up on something he said. Mind you, he didn’t tell me a thing. He didn’t reveal a single confidence.”

  “Yeah. When I was accused and convicted, I really needed his help. He said he couldn’t keep it from Mom, but I pulled the confession card on the minister, frankly, and made him promise not to tell you. I felt crappy about hiding it from you, Mackie. What did you pick up on?”

  “It was what he said this morning when I asked if he knew where you’d been yesterday. He said it was your story to tell. Now I realize the story was bigger than only where you’d been yesterday.”

  “You’re right.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Where were you yesterday, anyway?”

  He examined a frayed corner of his chair. “Working my way through a dozen beers at a seedy bar in Bourne. After the first one, my conscience took a really long nap, and my higher power said, ‘You want to screw yourself, be my guest.’ Or at least that’s what I told myself.” He looked up.

  “Aw, Derrie. You know you can always call me if you get tempted like that again.”

  “Of course I know. But you’re not an addict. I’ve seen that. You don’t understand what a demon it is. Simply making that call is the hard part.”

  “Well, the offer stands.” I sipped my water. “So Mom knows you were in prison?”

  “Yes, but she thinks I’m some sort of golden boy anyway because of all the blah-blah-blah in my chart. Delusional, as usual, but I know she means well.”

  “It is a bit hard to take if you don’t believe in astrology. But hey, enough people do, plus they pay her for her interpretations. And it makes her happy.” I laughed. “Maybe I should consult with the great Astra about who around here might have had their stars and planets in a murderous position Tuesday.”

  He laughed, too. “As long as she doesn’t say it was my Aries in Scorpio conjunct Saturn.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Or Jake’s left foot in Pisces in aspect to Provincetown.” I couldn’t help myself from giggling.

  “Maybe Westham trine the house of Aquarius with tourists rising.” Derrick snorted, then dissolved in laughter.

  Which made two of us. We’d been doing this fake horoscope routine ever since Mom converted to the religion of Astrologism. We never cracked irreverent lines in her presence, of course, but to see my brother once again sober, relaxed, and joking comforted me. He was going to be all right. We’d be all right. Once I removed him from the house of suspects, that is.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  My own alarm came at six, a scant two hours after Tim’s the next morning. I’d roused ever so slightly when he climbed out of bed. I asked him to look in on Derrick, since we’d both completely forgotten the doctor’s caution to check my brother for signs of concussion. Tim came back in and said Derrick had good color and was breathing regularly, so I kissed my man and rolled over to two more hours of oblivion, missing the sunrise completely.

  Now, though, I had a bird to attend to, a walk with Gin to squeeze in, and a shop to operate. I splashed water on my face and threw on my dress and leggings in a hurry. Why hadn’t I thought to bring a change of clothes? I hated putting on last night’s outfit in the morning. Oh, well. I’d be home and in my walking togs soon enough.

  My own check of my brother had the same results as Tim’s—sound asleep, with normal color in his face and regular breathing. I let him sleep. The man needed his rest, and it was only six o’clock, after all. I headed into the kitchen where Tim, the angel, had left me a cup’s worth of coffee in the French press. While I heated the brew in the microwave I read the note he’d left me next to a small ring with a key on it.

  Left my car in case you need it. See you at Brews and Breads, I hope.

  XXX OOO

  T

  He’d ridden his bike to work as he always did on non-delivery days, but made sure I had the car key. Sweet of him. But, nah. I’d walk home. It wasn’t f
ar. I pocketed the note, poured my coffee, and sat at the table to write a message to my brother. Normally I would text him, but I didn’t even know if he had his phone.

  Derrick—Hope you’re feeling better. Am off home and to the shop. You should spend time w/Cokey, but come into work later if you can.

  Text me.

  love,

  Mackie

  There. I gazed at the key as I breathed in Tim’s comforting kitchen scents of java, something yeasty, and a trace of cardamom and cinnamon. He must have baked at home recently.

  Did I want to leave Tim’s car for Derrick? No. As long as he stayed sober, I’d trust him with my life. But seeing him smashed with a bottle in his hand yesterday had eroded my faith in his judgment just a teensy bit. An underlayment of sadness colored my mood. Derrie had worked so hard to get sober in the first place, and I believed this was his first screw-up. I hoped it wouldn’t repeat any time soon, and preferably never.

  I slid the key back into the drawer where Tim kept it, drained my coffee, and washed out the cup. Before I left I wiped down the kitchen counter, too. What a blessing that Tim also liked a pretty clean kitchen, but then a cook would have to. Nobody was as devoted to—or as both Gin and my mom would say, obsessed about—a tidy environment as I was, but I knew from experience, a relationship with a messy man was doomed from the start.

  I headed out into the morning, glad for my sweater as I walked down the hill. The sun peeked over the buildings of Westham’s main drag but the air still had a nip to it. I cut across Main Street to the bikeway, my brain full of all this new information. I wrinkled my nose, imagining Derrick in prison. He was a good man. Generous, gentle, and fun. Wasn’t prison a dangerous, hard-edged place, with gangs and violence despite the guards? Or maybe from the guards themselves? I had not a scrap of personal experience or knowledge of incarceration. But I’d read stories in the news, and fictional accounts, too.

  And I’d seen TV shows and movies about incarceration, although I’d never liked criminal investigation kinds of shows. I’d rather get my police intrigues through the written word. And these days the only TV I watched was via the Internet, anyway. I stopped in my tracks. Speaking of the Internet, I’d never even run a search on my own brother. I supposed I never thought I needed to. I almost pulled out my phone to do it then and there, but I was almost home. It could wait.