Murder and Matrimony Page 3

  Les knew better than to answer her rhetorical questions.

  “Les, he’s being framed.”

  “It would seem that way, but there has to be a reason they have the evidence that they do.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Les!” Margot felt frustration course through her veins. This was ridiculous.

  “Margot Durand,” a voice said from the steps behind Les. She turned to see Chief John Hartland standing there with dark sunglasses and an unamused expression on his round features. “Why don’t you come inside and we’ll have a chat.”

  “But—”

  “If you’re going to harass my detective, I’d like to be in on it.” She saw the hint of a smile that was soon gone, but she’d seen enough to know he wasn’t as angry as he was letting on.

  “If you insist,” she replied.

  “I do.”

  Margot and Les walked up the steps and inside, following the chief to his office.

  “What can you tell me about the murder of Sid Lawrence?” Margot said the minute the chief’s office door was closed.

  He turned to her, hands on hips and raised eyebrows, as if he couldn’t believe she’d just asked him that question. She realized it was unorthodox, especially since she wasn’t even a licensed investigator, but she had to know what they knew.

  “I’m assuming this is about Adam?” the chief said.

  “Of course it is,” she said, pacing and ignoring his attempts to get her to sit down. “I find out that my fiancé is first a person of interest and then a suspect for a murder only to now know that the murder took place here of all places. What happened? And why was Adam not picked up until he was in D.C?”

  “As for your last question, you’ll have to talk to Detective Karlsson about that. Something about jurisdiction.”

  “When the body was found here?”

  The chief held up his hand to stay her question. “I know. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but we want to be seen as cooperating here.”

  “But what about Adam?”

  The chief looked between Margot and Les, then back to Margot. “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee.” He moved a file around on his desk, his eyes on Les. “I’ll be gone for at least ten minutes.” Then he walked out of the office.

  “What was…” Margot trailed off, her eyes still on the folder.

  “I think that was the chief giving me some unofficial permission to read you into this case. At least, parts of it.” He stepped forward and took the file. “Look, there’s not even much to share here. The body washed up on shore just two days ago.”

  “While Adam was away—in D.C.”

  “Right, we realize that, but the victim had been dead for longer than that.”

  “Is the M.E. report back yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  She scrunched up her nose in thought. No report on the time or the cause of death. At least not officially.

  “But, Margot, the body wasn’t the only thing to wash up on the beach.”

  “What?” She jerked her gaze from the small window in the corner.

  “A speed boat, like the kind usually attached to a very expensive yacht, also came ashore some distance down from where the body washed up.”

  “And?” She wasn’t sure where Les was going with this.

  “Adam’s prints were all over it.”

  Her stomach dropped at this. “But wait,” she said, trying for reason. “Was the body tied to the boat? Or did they both just wash ashore?” She realized that a coincidence like that was unlikely, but she had to ask.

  “There was evidence Adam and the man who died, Sid Lawrence, were both on that boat. Likely around the same time.”

  “Who does the boat belong to?”

  “Mister Lawrence.”

  Things were looking worse and worse for Adam. Still, placing him on a dead man’s boat did not mean that he was automatically responsible for the crime.

  Les’s head jerked up and she knew that meant the chief was coming back. “Thank you, Les,” she said just as the chief came back in, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Yup,” was all Les said, bobbing his head once.

  “Now you listen up,” Chief Hartland said, eyeing Margot. “You drop this, got it? Hopefully, you know enough now to know better than to poke your nose where it doesn’t belong. Hear me?”

  She read between the lines. He’d had Les show her the evidence they had so that she would leave the rest of it to them, but it had had the opposite effect. Now that she knew a little, she needed to know more.

  Instead of telling him that, she merely smiled and turned toward the door.

  “Do you hear me?” he called after her, but she was already on her way out the front door. She had a visit to make.

  4

  “Hello, Martin,” Margot said, stepping into the chilly office at the county morgue.

  “Is that Margot Durand in the flesh?” Martin said, pushing his glasses up on his forehead and bursting into a brilliant smile. He was about ten years Margot’s junior with a round face, twinkling eyes, and a girth that indicated he was no stranger to large meals. It was his congenial nature that made him a favorite of all those who came in contact with him.

  “It’s me,” Margot said, slipping onto a tall stool next to a high desk.

  “I haven’t seen you since… I would guess it was one of the senior center functions.”

  “That’s probably right. How’s your wife?”

  “Sonia is doing just great! We’ve got another little one on the way and I’m killing myself over here—” He winked and laughed. “—to make sure we’ll be able to feed everyone.”

  “What number is this?”

  “Lucky number five,” he said with a smile filled with fatherly affection.

  “Congratulations! Children are a blessing.”

  “That they are. Now I’m sure you didn’t come down to my lair—” He chuckled and steepled his fingers together as if imitating an evil villain. “—for my very bad jokes. What can I help you with?”

  While a little strange, Martin was one of the most happy-go-lucky people she’d ever met. For a medical examiner, she assumed that had to be rare, but she was glad that North Bank had him on their side.

  “I’ve got a huge favor to ask.”

  He looked around as if there might be someone hiding in the shadows. “Do ask!”

  “I really need to know cause and possible time frame of death for a body that washed up on the shore. Sid Lawrence.”

  “Ah, Mister Lawrence,” Martin said, nodding sagely. “I know him, but how does he know you?”

  She assumed he was referring to why she wanted the information. “I know it’s against protocol but…” She hesitated, considering the ramifications of letting out this piece of information. Then she went ahead, thinking it was probably her only option. “Adam’s in trouble.”

  “What?” Martin looked sufficiently shocked.

  “They are saying that he had something to do with this man’s murder, which is impossible of course, but I need to know about the timing of the death and the method so that I can work to clear his name.”

  “Ah, true love,” Martin said, reaching for a file amidst a pile of folders on his desk. “I know I shouldn’t do this, but since you made such a good case and I’m assuming you won’t tell anyone, I’ll give you the details. I was about to send these over to Chief Hartland anyway.”

  “Thank you so much, Martin,” Margot said, her eyes welling with grateful tears.

  “None of that,” he said, chuckling and blushing, “I’m just happy to finally be able to help out Adam. He’s done so much for us,” Martin shook his head and now it was Margot’s turn to see tears glistening in the man’s eyes. “Anyway, here’s what I found.”

  He opened the pages and, licking his fingers a few times, came to the part he wanted.

  Margot held her breath, unsure of what the information would prove. Of course s
he didn’t believe for a moment that Adam had anything to do with the man’s death, but she was concerned by the notion that they’d found evidence of him on the boat. What had he been doing on that boat? How—if at all—did Adam know Sid? It made the pressure to see Adam soon almost unbearable. She’d wait until she knew she could see him, but she was growing more and more impatient.

  Martin’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Right. There it is.” He flipped another page. “It looks like Mister Lawrence was found two days ago on the beach.”

  Margot tried to stop her foot from tapping with impatience. Martin was doing her a huge favor and she needed to let him do it in his own time.

  “He was found face down on the beach, but I guess you don’t need to know all the specifics.” He flipped ahead a few more pages. “Okay, so I determined his death to be during a forty-eight to seventy-two-hour window at first. Upon further examination, I’d bring that closer to forty-eight due to the amount of water damage and such.”

  “So, four days ago from now.”

  “Give or take, yes.” He turned another page. “I discovered the cause of death to be due to a nine-millimeter bullet to the heart from a relatively close range.”

  Nine-millimeter. She knew that Adam carried a Glock 22, which shot that caliber of bullet. It didn’t mean anything, but it was one more piece of the puzzle. And close range—was that due to necessity of being on a boat?

  “Was there anything else?” she asked.

  Martin scanned his notes. Margot’s impatience wanted to ask him how he couldn’t remember details from this recent a case, but then she had to remind herself that he was dealing with a lot of cases. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “It looks like there was some post-mortem bruising consistent with the victim being tied up. Bruises on his wrists and feet.”

  “Post-mortem?”

  “Right, I was thinking the same thing, why tie up a corpse?” He shrugged, but then raised a finger. “Correction. Why cuff a corpse. Well, doesn’t that have a nice ring to it!”

  “Cuff…” Margot frowned. “The victim was cuffed?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it was after he was shot?”

  “Yes. The manipulation of the arms occurred at least an hour or more after death.”

  “So someone wanted the victim to be cuffed but they didn’t decide that until after he was dead. Very interesting.”

  “Mind boggling, if you ask me,” Martin said. Then he shrugged. “Then again, they don’t ask me the why, just the how. And I’m just fine with that.”

  Margot nodded. She was beginning to have an idea about what had happened, but how would she prove it?

  “Thanks for all of your help, Martin,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “Tell Sonia hello for me.”

  “Will do. And, Margot?” Martin waited until she turned back to face him. “We all believe Adam didn’t do this and I know you’re going to find out the truth. So good luck.”

  “Thanks again,” she said and left. It was true, the dead still talked, and she had a feeling Mr. Sid Lawrence still had a lot to say.

  “You want me to do this?” Dexter looked up at her over the rim of his gamer glasses, their yellowish tint giving his eyes a break from the harsh glare of his computer screens.

  “I do.”

  “You don’t usually let me—”

  “It’s not usually Adam who’s on the line.”

  “Point taken. Let me see what I can do.”

  Margot nodded and began to pace, her arms encircling her waist.

  “Margot,” he said, waiting for her to look at him. “It’s probably going to take a while.”

  “Right.” She picked up her purse from the cluttered dining room table turned office space and headed for the door. “Call me when you have something.”

  “The minute I do.”

  She left Dexter’s small apartment and climbed into her car, turning it on to get the AC going. She’d gone to Dexter to ask him for his help in researching Sid Lawrence. She needed more information—his death spoke volumes but not as much, she hoped, as his life would.

  For a moment, she’d hesitated, her finger on Dexter’s doorbell, but then she’d reminded herself it was Adam they were talking about. She felt duty-bound to use every possible avenue to prove his innocence. Even if it was slightly less legal than other options, she knew Dexter would do a good job and give her something to go on. At least, she hoped so.

  Her phone rang and she yanked it out of her purse, not even bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

  “Margot?”

  “Adam?” Margot’s heart pounded against her rib cage. “Are you still in D.C.? Do you need me to come get you? Did they let you go?”

  “One question at a time, sweetie,” he said, his attempt at an even keel reply falling flat.

  “What’s going on?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out, the sound clear even over the phone. “I’m still in D.C. I’m waiting as they build their case.”

  Margot fought back tears. “Still?”

  “Can you come see me?”

  “Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour.”

  “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  The line went dead, and Margot took a moment to calm herself. She was emotionally invested in this case—because that was what she’d decided to call this, a case—but she couldn’t let it affect her. This was her chance not only to meet with the man she loved, but also to gain valuable information from him. She hated how cold and calculated it sounded to her, but she also knew she was of more use to Adam with a sharp, focused mind than she was a sobbing mess.

  With that as her focus, she pulled away from Dexter’s apartment complex and onto 395 North. Despite the light traffic, it still took her over an hour to get to where Adam was being held. Once she was through security and shown into a meeting room, she began to feel the weight of what Adam was being accused of.

  “Hey,” he said, his eyes soft on hers when she sat down in front of him. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I’d stay here if they let me,” she said, happy to see the briefest hint of a smile on his otherwise serious features.

  “You wouldn’t want that. Trust me. You’d be appalled by the baked goods.”

  She appreciated his humor more than he likely knew and she had to resist the urge to reach out and take his hands in hers.

  “Adam, what have they said?”

  “Anthony told me he talked to you.” She narrowed her eyes as he sidestepped her question.

  “He did, but—”

  “Then you understand the matter. The importance of it.”

  She tried to understand what it was he wasn’t saying.

  “Just know that I didn’t do what they said I did. I wouldn’t.” He shook his head, swallowing. “I would never do such a thing.”

  She wanted to demand he tell her everything, but something in the way he looked at her made her pause. Was it possible he, like his brother, feared someone was listening in? Their conversation was likely being recorded, but did that mean that Adam and Anthony thought a police officer was involved?

  Then she remembered what Adam had been doing. There had been people he hadn’t caught. Was that who he was afraid of? Were they responsible for this?

  “Tell me about the wedding plans,” he said, breaking her from her thoughts.

  “N-now?”

  “Can you think of a better time?”

  She smiled at this. If they wouldn’t—couldn’t—talk about his case, then this was the next best thing.

  She reminded him of a few details he’d forgotten then let out a groan.

  “What is it?”

  “I forgot to ask Dexter and Julia to do the cake. We still don’t have one.” She tried not to think about the fact that there wouldn’t be a groom if this wasn’t straightened out, but for now, she focused on the cake.

  “I’m sure they’ll
do it for us. Just be sure to ask.”

  “I will,” she said, offering him what she hoped passed as a smile.

  “Remember,” he said, his gaze boring into hers, “we’ve got a lot of friends—a lot of assets—and now is the time to call in all those favors. To really use all our assets.”

  She caught his meaning. He knew her—better than anyone—and he knew that she would be looking in to his case. He knew that she would also use every resource she could. It was his way of saying, ‘okay.’ Or, at least she was going to take it that way.

  “I will. I promise.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, then she was told her time was up. Hating the fact that she had to leave him there, Margot said good-bye and left before he could see tears in her eyes.

  Outside of the meeting area, she nearly ran into a stocky figure. When she looked up, she gasped, seeing the man who had arrested Adam at their dinner.

  “Detective Karlsson,” she stammered.

  “Margot Durand.” He spoke as if he read off a chart and was putting a face to the name. “Visiting our prisoner?”

  Her dislike of the man deepened, but she tried to school her features. “I’m visiting my fiancé. The one who is innocent until proven guilty.”

  “Right, right.” Karlsson sent a scowl toward the visiting area then back to her. “I wouldn’t put too much hope in that August wedding date. Just saying.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she almost forgot who she was speaking to. “I will put all of my hope in it, because I know my fiancé and I know he is innocent.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “You’re right, we will.” With that, she spun on her heel and left him standing there.

  Bright sunshine nearly blinded her as she burst outside and made her way down the sidewalk to the parking garage she’d parked in. Her blood was as hot as the cement, if not hotter, but she tried to force herself to take deep breaths. The detective thought he knew what had happened with Adam, but he didn’t know the half of it.

  She pushed through the door and immediately felt the cooler air of the garage. It wasn’t cold, but the light breeze helped and she clattered down the steps to the next level. She turned right and made her way down the rows of cars. She was almost to hers when she heard the sound of a footstep behind her.