All the Deadly Lies. Marian Lanouette
with it.
“How can I help you, Ms. Wagner?”
“I need answers. My parents need answers. When are we going to get them?”
“Your sister’s case is being worked every day. But we need new evidence, something to lead us in a new direction. Everything we’ve investigated has led to dead ends.”
“My family’s torn apart. My mother checks up on me several times a day to make sure I’m okay. My father walks around in a fog, like he’s lost. I’m positive they’re heading toward a divorce. You say you can’t do anything else? That’s a load of crap. You expect your answer will make me go away? Well, it won’t. I’ll go over your head, Detective,” she shouted. The other detectives in the bullpen came to attention and went on alert. Action or gossip, it didn’t matter to the detectives as long as it got their adrenaline going.
“Take a seat, Ms. Wagner.” Louie pointed to the single torn-up chair on the side of his desk.
Chloe Wagner didn’t resemble her sister in looks, personality, or activities. Her five-foot-two-inch frame carried one hundred five pounds. Her almond-shaped eyes, along with her hair, were brown, offsetting a round face and full lips, and all of it wrapped in a bossy, possessive nature. Louie could see her appeal until she opened her mouth. Her personality would be a turnoff for any man, but a man like Jake, with commitment phobia—it had sent him running. He’d dumped her within a month, but for some reason, this one wouldn’t let go. It would have been amusing if she wasn’t hounding the entire department. Louie understood deep down that Chloe could ruin Jake’s career. He never should’ve dated her while the investigation was going on, but Jake had ignored the rules. The decision seemed to be coming back to bite Jake on the ass ever since. Though they cleared her, Chloe was still a suspect.
Louie repeated himself. Maybe this time it would get through. “Ms. Wagner, we explained it all last week. We’re working the file. Shanna is not forgotten.” He picked up the file and held it out with Shanna’s name facing Chloe. “We haven’t given up.”
“It’s been over two months since she was found.”
“We’ll be interviewing everyone again. In the heat of the moment people sometimes forget the details. Once they calm down they remember more.” He scribbled a number on his pad. A number he and Jake had given her every time she showed up there. “Here’s the number to the station’s switchboard if you have any further questions.”
Chloe was a dog with a bone. “If I don’t get answers soon, I’ll be going over your heads!” she shouted. She didn’t take the paper from his hand but lowered her voice. “Where’s Jake?”
“He’s out on another case. What else can I do for you?”
“Why’s he not returning my phone calls?”
Her anger directed at Jake belonged to the killer. “I have no idea. You’ll need to discuss it with him.”
He stood, dismissing her as he started to walk her toward the door. “I would if he’d answer his freakin’ phone,” Chloe said in a huff.
“I don’t get involved in his personal life, Ms. Wagner. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
* * * *
Before he headed home, Jake walked around the downtown area hoping the distraction would clear his head. The weather for April suited him. It was said, if you didn’t like the weather in New England, you only had to wait five minutes for it to change. And that was no folktale, he thought. The sixty-degree temperatures were a gift this time of year. Last week there was frost, this week heat. A mild breeze ruffled his auburn hair, the promise of summer in the air. I was looking forward to summer and the outdoor activities until McGuire dropped his damn bomb. He passed the new modern courthouse on Meadow Street. Smokers puffed away outside the building. The courthouse stood out against the nineteen-thirties architecture of the other municipal buildings lining the street. The size of the city suited him. One hundred thousand-plus residents made it a city, but kept the small-town attitudes and feelings alive.
His lanky stride ate up the sidewalk as he headed down Grand Street toward the federal building, which housed the main post office and other federal divisions. Son of a gun, it isn’t my day. As he walked past city hall, Wilkesbury’s idiot mayor, along with his entourage, stepped in front of him.
The Honorable John Velky sucked in his gut and puffed out his chest like he always did when he met up with him. Jake found it amusing most days. The mayor, with his styled brown hair and expensive suits, was a true politician. He kissed babies one moment and overtaxed their parents the next. Jake had never voted for him.
“You don’t have anything better to do then stroll around town, Lieutenant?” Mayor Velky asked.
“Good morning, Mayor.” It took all his control to be polite, as he tried to walk away. Today isn’t a good day to get in a pissing match with the mayor. It might cost me my career.
Jake studied the quote over the doors of city hall as he tuned out the mayor. Quid Aere Perennius. The meaning was something you were taught in local schools. His father, as an immigrant and Wilkesbury cop, had him and Eva studying the history of Wilkesbury, “The Brass Capital of the World” in its heyday. Translated from Latin it meant, “What is More Lasting Than Brass?” He forced his attention back to the mayor.
“I’ll be at the station this week in discussions with the commissioner,” Mayor Velky said before walking away, leaving Jake baffled. He watched Velky jump into the back of the town car. It takes all kinds, he thought. His mind drifted back to Eva. A girl he would never see beyond her fifteen years, thanks to Spaulding.
* * * *
At home, Jake rummaged through his basement, searching for his father’s records. Why now? He couldn’t get the question out of his head. What did Spaulding and his lawyer hope to achieve with the new testing? Every couple of years he was subjected to this torment. And every couple of years he gathered his strength to face down the parole board with his gruesome evidence. The pictures of the crime scene, along with Eva’s bruised and bloody body, gave them many reasons to deny Spaulding’s request. His father had kept a copy of Eva’s case file at home since he wasn’t allowed to work it. The other detectives made sure he had every bit of evidence he needed. It was one of their own who’d been victimized. Nobody messed with a cop’s family and got away with it. Except maybe this time, he thought as he rubbed his throbbing head. Had George Spaulding found a way to cheat the system? It couldn’t be true after seventeen years that they had imprisoned the wrong man. If it was true, then who had killed his sister Eva? Jake couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
No, it was George.
The fifth box he opened was dedicated to her case. On top, his father had marked it one of five. After hunting down the other boxes, he brought them upstairs and placed them in his office. The first box he opened sent him right back to hell and his first visit to the morgue. It was the year he had lost his innocence.
A buzzing rang out in his ears from the fluorescent lights overhead. The starkness of the corridor as their footsteps echoed in the silence created the crescendo of a day gone horribly wrong. The buzzing grew louder as they approached the door. The medical examiner, Doctor Ed Jerome, put his hand up to stop them.
Taking a deep breath, Doc Jerome said, “James, you’ve done this a hundred times, but this is different. I can make the identification for you.”
“No, I need to do this, Ed,” Captain James Carrington said.
“Okay. Why doesn’t Jake wait out here?” Doctor Jerome offered, giving him an out.
He spoke up, his voice louder than intended. “I’m going in.” He said it with such force it brooked no argument.
Ed pushed open the door.
On the table lay a body covered with a white sheet. Ed’s assistants had set the victim up for viewing. There was no way to hide the odor of death, though they tried to camouflage it with disinfectant, air fresheners,