“Lester Parker may be expensive, but I believe he’s worth it,” June observed. Her expression changed. “Fran Dowling is telling everyone that you killed Kerry,” she said, looking at Alan. “I’m going to have Parker write a stiff letter to her saying that we are going to sue her if she continues her malicious defamation.”
“I agree,” Doug said heartily.
They both looked at Alan, expecting his approval.
“Mom, Dad, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Oh my God, he’s going to tell us he killed her, June thought, her blood running cold.
“I wasn’t honest with you or the detective in Hackensack about where I was after I left the party. I did go to Nellie’s, but on my way home, I went to Kerry’s house.”
“Alan, don’t tell us you killed her,” June begged.
A suddenly white-faced Doug gripped the arms of the chair, preparing for the worst.
“I killed her? That’s what you two have believed all along!” Alan snapped. “Here’s what really happened. I went back to make up with Kerry and help her clean up. We spoke for a few minutes. She told me she was tired and going to bed, she said she would get up early in the morning to clean up. I kissed her good night and came straight home.”
“Then why did you lie to the detective?” Doug asked.
“Because I knew it would look bad for me. We had a fight at the party and everybody saw it. I sent her some nasty text messages which I’m sure the cops know about. If I admitted going back to her house, I was afraid how that would look.”
“Alan,” June said, “you know your father and I are behind you no matter what.”
“No matter what! What does that mean? You’re behind me even if I killed her?” Alan stood up. “Well you might as well know I not only lied to the detective. I asked my friends to lie and say I was at Nellie’s with them when I was really at Kerry’s.”
Doug and June were too stunned to react. Alan looked at his mother. “You better not send that letter to Mrs. Dowling,” he said bitterly, and stalked out of the room.
33
Brenda was in the kitchen when she heard raised voices coming from the den. Knowing every inch of the house and blessed with exceptionally good hearing, she knew exactly where to go when she wanted to listen to Crowley conversations. She tiptoed from the kitchen down the hall and ducked into the small bathroom next to the den. She brought a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Windex in case she had to look busy.
The words “He lied to the detective” swirled around in her brain. Always sympathetic to Alan because of the Crowleys’ demands on him, she began to wonder. Why would he have lied to the cops? There’s no way he would hurt Kerry.
She couldn’t wait to get over to talk to Marge after she finished preparing dinner for the Crowleys.
She was glad to see Marge’s car as she drove up her street. When Marge answered the door and invited her in, she pointed up the stairs. “Brenda, Jamie’s having a really bad day. He’s been crying because he misses Kerry,” she said, her tone weary.
“Oh, Marge, I’m so sorry.”
“It happens every few days. He misses her so much. I think losing Kerry is bringing back his sadness from when Jack died.”
“Of course, he misses Kerry and his father,” Brenda said sympathetically. “But wait till you hear the latest.”
She waited until they were seated at the kitchen table and Marge had put on the kettle for a cup of tea. “Marge,” Brenda began, “you won’t believe me when I tell you what Alan told the Crowleys!”
34
At six-forty-five the next morning, Fran and Steve were awakened by the ringing of the bedside phone. Fran groped for it and sat up straight. It was Mike Wilson telling her that they were on their way to arrest Alan Crowley for Kerry’s murder. He would be brought to the Bergen County Jail in Hackensack today and would be arraigned in the next couple days. The arraignment before the judge would be open to the public, and the Dowlings could attend.
Mike added, “Mrs. Dowling, we’ll be there in a few minutes. Do not share this information until I’ve called you back to confirm that Alan was at his house and is in our custody.”
Fran replaced the phone and said, “Steve, fantastic news! It’s just as I’ve been saying. Alan Crowley is being arrested today for killing Kerry.”
Fifteen minutes later, June and Doug Crowley were startled awake by persistent pounding on their front door and the ringing of the doorbell. Instinctively suspecting that the reason for the abrupt intrusion was going to be a problem, June grabbed her robe and raced downstairs.
She yanked open the door and saw two men in plainclothes side by side with a uniformed policeman. She had no way of knowing that another uniformed officer was in the backyard to guard against the possibility that Alan would try to escape.
“Ma’am, I’m Detective Wilson from the Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office. We have a warrant for the arrest of Alan Crowley and a search warrant for the premises,” he told her. “Is he here at this time?”
“My son is represented by counsel, by Lester Parker. Have you spoken to him?”
“Your son has the right to speak to his attorney later. We are here now to arrest him.”
Without being asked, Wilson pushed open the door and stepped past June Crowley into the house. His fellow detective and the officer followed him.
By this time Doug and Alan were tumbling down the stairs in time to hear the word “arrest.” Alan gripped his father’s arm as
