“You want to be just like him, right?”
“He’s not around now, killed eight years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“I was home for mid-semester. He was off duty. It was half-time on TV. I started to go for ice cream, but he said relax he’d go get it. As he parked at the convenience store, he saw a robbery in progress. He radioed for backup but the perp came out too soon. Long story, traded shots, he died on the sidewalk.”
“My God!”
“When he didn’t come back home right away, I figured he got some emergency call, not unusual. I’m lounging around like an idiot cheering for the Dolphins while my father is lying in a parking lot gutter bleeding to death. Later two cops came to the house. I opened the door and they just stood there. Neither one was able to speak, couldn’t get one word out.”
“Ever find the bastard?”
Chip shook his head, “There was a big manhunt with posters all around, but we never found him. It shocked the town terribly, as if the citizens were insulted that it happened here. Park changed after that, it was a turning point. As though the place was innocent before, and then afterwards it was nothing special, just another American town where even the police chief wasn’t safe.”
“So, some piece of shit is walking around free.”
“Whenever I have to go to that store, I see blood on the sidewalk.” He pressed his lips together hard and paused for a moment. “It should have been me going for the ice cream.”
“Not your fault. Must have been difficult for your mother.”
“Don’t know if my mother ever knew. She took off years earlier. I didn’t know her. They were never married. She moved on. Dad raised me. Then I went in the Marines. Why am I’m telling you this?”
“Because somehow you figured out, I want to hear it.”
“It’s time to change the subject.”
“After all that you still wanted to be a cop?”
“I wanted to catch all the guys who think they can get away with it. Actually, at first I wanted to shoot them all on sight. Later I softened and decided it was best if I just arrested them.”
“You’ll get some of them.” Rough episode to live through, she thought. “Well, you’ve kept your head as far as I can tell. So, you want to follow his example. Are you worried about failing, I mean failing your father?”
“I’m not going to fail him.”
“I know this case is a big deal for you, and you’re risking something by being here with me.”
“It’s nothing if I don’t screw up. If I find all the evidence, and it’s sufficient and rock solid. If a witness doesn’t disappear. If no one else on our side screws up. If the jury convicts. Should I go on? If I do all that, then Moran will have his showy trial and be a United States Senator.”
“And if he screws up you’ll be blamed.” She waved off a refill on the coffee. “So, you stayed here in Park Beach. You made a life for yourself.”
“It’s nice here. Florida’s east coast is all about the same. Most of these little towns could all use the same postcard, just change the name. A bit prettier and quieter here, lots of trees, water and bridges.”
“How’s your social life? You’re easy-going with females. Where did you pick that up?”
“None of your business. What about you?”
“Yes, Chip, I have a social life.” A lousy one, but he didn’t need to know that.
“No, I meant what about your family?”
“Don’t have any. Mom and Dad are gone, died in an accident on the Schuylkill Expressway. So, no family.”
“But you’ve a brother here.”
“We live on different planets.”
“Doesn’t he count? Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“I was never really his sister.”
“I don’t get you.”
“When we were young. We talked some and I could ask him things and get homework help. And he taught me silly songs. But when I got to the age where I might help
“Help him, how?”
“I don’t know, maybe with clothes or how girls think, stuff like that.”
She was silent for a moment, staring at her coffee. Then she leaned closer. “Want to hear something weird? There’s a drop of bad blood between us and we grew apart. We’ve never been close as adults. Even so, I’m down here risking my job to help him. I’m not even certain I like him. I get the confusing thought that I’m enjoying him being punished, even though I know he didn’t do it.”
“Schadenfreude.”
“Yeah, I’m guilty of sibling gloating.”
“You don’t know for a fact your brother is innocent.”
“He doesn’t fit the profile, Raymond’s much too soft. He’s carried a clean handkerchief in his pocket for twenty years just in case some woman should cry. What evidence do you have against him?”
“Forget it.”
She expected him to clam up to her direct questions. But they were mixing it up and she liked that. Exchanging some personal thoughts also was encouraging. They seemed to have connected instantly. She had opened up with candid feelings, and he had opened up in return. She could build on that. Yet she was aware the connection might not be genuine. It would pay off only if he was playing fair.
They stood and he tossed a couple of bills on the table. He touched her arm as she started to walk away. “Will you give me your number?”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
Chapter 17
Sandy drove from the Coffee Spot back to the mainland and located the newspaper building on US 1. She was pleased with the meeting with Chip. She’d need to explain the arrangement to Raymond and Kagan, but she doubted they would understand.
Next, was to cozy up to Linda Call, the local reporter who wrote each day about the murder. Make her open to the possibility of other suspects. The media access would be invaluable. Sandy knew that most reporters imagine themselves Investigative Reporters. Let’s see how Linda Call reacts to the murder suspect’s sister.
In the building lobby, a young woman behind the counter interrupted her classified ad phone-order to motion Sandy up the stairs. The newsroom wasn’t large, wasn’t busy and wasn’t noisy. A glassed-in cubicle with a large desk and a conference table sat empty in the far corner. Low-hanging fluorescent lights hung down over a dozen desks. Three employees were engaged at their computers. One was a woman.
She was leaning back with her feet on the desk and the keyboard in her lap. Papers and folders were disordered around her on the floor. She wore jeans with a lightweight cotton sweater. Attractive but a tad overweight, she appeared to be in her late forties. Sandy thought it a shame to have nice dark-brown hair like that and do just a no-fuss ponytail. Sandy walked over. “Don’t tell me your big newspaper comes out of this little room?”
The woman turned and took a long look at Sandy. She straightened and made a broad grin. “Hello to you. Yes, deceptive place, huh? State and national items come in digital and need little editing, mainly to make it fit if we use it at all. Feature writers work out of their homes now. Advertising has its own office. That leaves a few others and me. That’s the tour. How do you like your little MX-5?”
