The Good Neighbor. Sharon Mignerey
better pray you have your story straight by the time Detective Prescott gets here,” Egan said, closing and locking the door behind him as he strode toward the front door.
This wasn’t quite jail—not like it had been the last time she’d been accused of murder.
THREE
Three hours later and with his frustration level mounting, Wade came through the front door of the police station. Just as he had been afraid of, the crime scene had not yielded any obvious evidence that could set him on a logical path forward. Forensics might turn up something, but he couldn’t count on it. The probable murder weapon, a garden spade, had smeared fingerprints on it, as did the lid of one of the garbage cans. The only other interesting things discovered were some old coins next to scuffed footprints that were near the back fence behind the garage. At the moment, he had no idea if those were connected to the crime.
All he wanted to do was go home where he could lose himself in the hard, physical labor of turning over the caked red dirt that passed for soil in his backyard. Caroline said hi from her place at the front desk as he paused to pick up messages from the credenza behind her.
“Chief wants to see you,” she said. “And Megan Burke is still here.”
“Thanks,” he automatically said, pushing through the gate that separated the front of the office from the bull pen where his desk was. His gaze lit on the glass-encased conference room across from Chief Egan’s office. Megan sat at the head of the table, her gaze focused on the door he’d just come through. She looked directly at him. As intensely as had happened when he’d met her this morning, he had that punch in the chest of pure, male interest. He’d been here six months, working only a couple of blocks from where she worked, and he’d never seen her until this morning. He wished that he’d met her some other way.
But wishes, like prayers, were futile things.
With that he reminded himself of the big reasons to shelve his interest until he forgot about her. She was his probable best witness in a major case, possibly a major suspect. If that wasn’t enough, all he had to do was remind himself of the nightmares that haunted him, which didn’t mix with a relationship. At the turn of his thoughts, he gave himself a mental shake. He’d gone from thinking the woman was pretty to planning a life with her in a single bound. Irrational and stupid.
Across the hall from the conference room door, Chief Egan sat behind his desk, his feet propped on the credenza behind him, and a telephone receiver tucked between his ear and his shoulder. Their eyes caught in the reflection of the glass doors above the credenza. He waved at Wade to come into his office, dropping his feet to the floor and turning to face his desk.
Glancing a last time at Megan, Wade headed for Egan’s office. He ended the call with whomever he was talking to and resettled the baseball cap on his head. He pushed several sheets of paper across the desk toward Wade.
“I’ve had a couple of interesting phone calls,” Egan said as Wade picked up the sheets. “Your suspect—”
“Witness,” Wade corrected.
“—had a very public and heated argument with the victim a couple of days ago in front of the pawnshop.” Egan waved toward the sheets. “I took Thomas Johansen’s initial statement.”
“Of Johansen’s Pharmacy?”
“That’s right. I’ve known the man for thirty years, and he’s as trustworthy an individual as you could ever find.”
A good trait to have, Wade thought, since he wouldn’t want an untrustworthy pharmacist to fill his prescriptions.
“Anyway, the vic accused Ms. Burke of being a gold digger and she told him that he was no good and that Helen Russell didn’t deserve the kind of heartache he was putting her through. According to Johansen, she also told him that she wished he’d never come here and that Mrs. Russell was better off without him.” He waved toward the sheets of paper once again. “Mrs. Russell’s most recent bank statements are in there. Never knew before the lady was richer than Midas, so we’ve got our motive.”
Wade had spent more than an hour with the lady, and he’d come away with the impression that she lived comfortably. If she was wealthy, she wouldn’t be the first person he’d met who lived far more simply than their bank account permitted. He did understand where Egan’s thinking had headed; however, as he turned to look out the door and across the hall where he could see Megan. “You think she’s after Mrs. Russell’s money and killed the grandson to get it?”
Egan nodded. “We’ve got to start somewhere, and that motive makes sense. That young lady drives a Lexus RX, has a pot full of money in savings, and a job that wouldn’t appear to support having either one. I figure the vic was onto something. She makes friends with these old people, gets in their good graces, and steals from them while everyone is smiling. She killed the grandson to squash his accusation.”
“Got any evidence to support that theory?” Wade asked.
“That’s why I’ve got you, Detective. To find it.”
Wade stared at his boss a long moment, remembering all the other times he’d been pressured to button up a case and get the public settled down. Too well, he knew the cost of putting the wrong person in jail.
Wade stepped into the office and closed the door. “Since this is the first major case we’re on together,” he said, setting the papers on the corner of the desk, “a reminder about how I work. I follow the evidence where it leads me, not where anyone with an agenda wants it to go. If it proves a theory, fine. If it doesn’t, fine.”
“I get your drift.” Egan pointed at the glass door of his office, through which there was a view of the conference room door across the hall. “Call her a person of interest or a suspect or a witness. But in my book, she’s at the top of the most-likely list even if you don’t buy into my theory. In those papers is the preliminary criminal report I’ve pulled on her, along with her credit report.”
“Have you read it yet?”
The chief shook his head. “Nope. I’ve been fielding phone calls from everyone in town from the mayor to the editor of the Gazette.” With that, he once more propped his feet on the credenza, turning his back on Wade. “When you talk to her, I suggest you go in armed with the facts.”
“You said something about a couple of interesting phone calls. Johansen and who else?”
“A guy who didn’t want to leave his name, but who says he knows for sure that Megan Burke held a grudge against Robby Russell.”
“He didn’t leave his name,” Wade repeated flatly.
“No. Caller ID was blocked, but we’ve got the phone company on it. I’ll be sure to let you know when we hear something.”
Wade nodded.
“Close the door behind you,” the chief instructed as Wade left the room.
He discovered the door to the conference room was locked when he tried the knob. Nothing like making a witness even more nervous by locking her up, Wade thought. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open.
“Sorry you’ve had to wait all this time,” he said, meaning it. This close, he could see her expression was drawn, her eyes red-rimmed. “Is there anything I can get for you? Coffee, something to eat?”
She shook her head, brushing her hair away from her face. He remembered her hair had been in a ponytail this morning. Now it fell to her shoulders, softly curling around her neck.
“The ladies’ room is back there. I’ve got one thing to do, which should take me no more than ten minutes.”
She nodded her understanding, stood, and came toward him. Despite her height, she seemed fragile as she slipped past him, heading for the restroom. The urge to protect her overwhelmed him for a moment—and then he looked down at the papers in his hand.
Sitting down, he