Maloney looked ready to fight-as long as The Toll Booth was there to protect him-but Rich took a deep breath and spoke calmly, “JP, if you are intent on accusing an award winning officer of being involved in the death of your brother in some manner, you can file an official complaint before you leave. But unlike the way your business works these days, we still need things like proof and evidence, neither of which you have.”
“I didn’t say he killed him, but the tests I performed today proved it wasn’t a suicide. Everybody’s record is spotless until they find the bodies in the basement. You better open an investigation, or I’ll bring your whole department down.”
“Is that a threat?” Maloney asked.
I stared angrily at him. “It’s a promise, Bobby.”
Rich shook his head with frustration. “Ever since we were kids it’s always been about you, JP. It makes me sad that you have twisted the death of your brother to be about you.”
I struggled to my feet. “Consider my complaint filed.”
Having put my cards on the table, I limped out of the office as fast as I could. When I entered the parking lot, I spotted Jones beside a police cruiser. He was holding the passenger-side door open for Gwen to step in.
“If they won’t get to the truth, Jones-I will,” I shouted in his direction.
“JP!” Gwen blurted, shocked at my outburst. I wondered if she felt responsible for contributing to this lunatic I’d become.
Jones whispered something to her and then shut her door. If he planned on playing knight, I hoped for his sake he wore his shining armor underneath his uniform.
He approached me and spoke in a low voice, “My girlfriend and I are just trying to go to lunch. So please be a gentleman and leave us alone.”
“Cut the act, Jones. You know what happened to my brother and I’m going to get to the truth.”
We engaged in a battle of smug looks, before he said softly, “Your brother did the honorable thing. He committed an act of evil and decided to fall on his own sword. It was common courtesy, which I see doesn’t run in the family. I actually felt respect for him when he jumped.”
“I’m sure he’d be honored that such an
“Now you should follow your brother’s lead and do the right thing, which is to leave this town before you cause any more trouble.”
I couldn’t help but to stare into his eyes. It confirmed what I already knew. I turned away and headed to the waiting Humvee. I thought of what Noah would have wanted me to do in this situation. So to honor him, I gave Jones the finger.
My adrenaline practically lifted me into the vehicle.
“Who was that?” Christina asked as she peeled out of the police parking lot.
“The man who killed my brother.”
Her mouth hung open. “You think a cop killed Noah? Do you have any proof?”
“I’m working on it.”
She noticed a strange grin escape from my trembling lips. “Why are you smiling?”
“I like to get under people’s skin.”
“You must smile a lot then.”
Chapter 39
Noah’s funeral was held at the Rockfield Congregational Church on Wednesday.
My parents had been active members for years. My father was the obvious choice to give the eulogy. He delivered more in his years as first selectman than I could remember. But he couldn’t bring himself to eulogize Noah. He asked me if I would do the honors. I respectfully declined, but offered Ethan as the more logical choice. It was the first thing that made sense to me since I’d returned.
Ethan always did the tough work around here, and why should this time be any different?
Following the packed ceremony, the mourners congregated back at our house on Skyview to “celebrate” the way too short life of Noah Warner. I stood by my lonesome in my best suit. It likely cost more than the funeral. I greeted guests and discussed Noah with many old friends of my family. Sadly, I didn’t recognize many of them without an embarrassing reintroduction. Ethan was right-I didn’t know Noah the way I should have.
As I stood on one side of the living room, I made long distance eye contact with Gwen. She wore a funeral- appropriate, ankle length black dress that was buttoned in the back. Her long hair was tied up in a bun. One accessory she wasn’t wearing on her arm was her boyfriend, Kyle Jones. She was smart enough to know his presence would have only tempted a confrontation. I knew a hug or smile from Gwen was the only tonic on the planet that could lift my spirits, but there was little chance of that.
I was approached by a friendly face that needed no reintroduction.
“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Murray addressed me with a friendly pat on the back.
“He didn’t commit suicide, Murray.”
“Is that the journalist in you talking or the grieving brother who doesn’t want to accept the truth?”
“I know what I sound like, but there are too many holes. I talked to Noah hours before and he made plans for later in the weekend. He was in good spirits … best I’ve seen him in a long time.”
“It doesn’t mean those feelings didn’t change. It was an anniversary of a horrible day, and he did drive to the spot on his own. Not to mention, they had to counsel him off the same bridge a year ago.”
“The wounds don’t match the fall. I think he was dead before he went over.”
Murray smiled strangely. “Is that what you learned from that amateurish forensic study you performed at the bridge with your young companion?”
“How’d you know about that?” The second the words left my lips I realized what a stupid question it was. I was talking to Murray Brown.
“Your research was good, although a little too confrontational for my taste-but not surprising after your many years in the television arena. Do you have a suspect in mind?”
“A local police officer,” I whispered as loud as I could into Murray’s hearing aid.
“And what was Officer Jones’ motive?”
“I’m not completely sure, but he’s obsessed with drinking and driving. I talked to a few townsfolk who relayed numerous instances in which Jones violated their rights to make DUI cases.”
“Anything in his past that might have sparked him to action?”
“His parents died suddenly, in some sort of accident.”
“Was it alcohol related?”
“Hard to say. There was an out of court settlement, but no details were revealed. And there are no arrest records I can find, which I think would be the case if it was an alcohol related accident. All the records were sealed.”
“And all that would provide is a motive. What you need is evidence that he murdered your brother. What else did you find in his background?”
“Not much. Lived the military ‘brat’ life as a kid, before following his parents into the Air Force. Nothing special about his service, other than he served in the Gulf War.”
“As did you, John Pierpont, if I remember correctly. Even if journalists aren’t given medals for their courage.”
“Post military, he went into police work. The same chief is still in charge in Gilbert, Arizona, where he served. I had a phone conversation with him, and it sounds like Jones was a perfect employee. He left on his own terms, moved to North Carolina, where he bought a plane, probably with the settlement money from his parents’ death, and gave flying lessons. Then one day he must have gotten the police bug back, because he picked up and moved to Rockfield.”
“I guess the question is
“He seems to make a habit of picking up and moving very suddenly. Maybe he’s running from something.”
