“What did you do?”
“What do you think?” he asked. “Jack was a friend of mine. Shelley might have been a ring-tailed bitch, but she was off the hook as far as law enforcement was concerned, and money’s money. I made whatever repairs were needed the planes and then sold ’em. Truth be told, I mighta charged a higher commission than I should have. Does my conscience bother me about that? Not one damned bit!”
“You sold them all?” I asked.
“All but one,” he replied. “She held back the newest Piper to keep for her own use.”
“Just to confirm, no matter what the M.E. says, you don’t believe that Jack Loveday committed suicide.”
“Absolutely not! Jack was a serious drinker. He wasn’t someone to sit around sipping fancy cocktails. I think she laced his tequila with a dose of whatever, and he drank it down without even tasting it. Hell of a way to treat your valentine.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
“Do you need anything else?” he asked.
“Not at this time.”
Chad took a breath. “So how’d you meet up with my sister?”
“Just lucky,” I said. “I needed a driver, and she happened to be available.”
“She’s a good driver,” he allowed, “as long as you don’t mind breathing all that cigarette smoke. Why don’t you put her back on?”
I was tempted to tell him, You can say that again about the cigarette smoke, but I knew better. I kept my mouth glued shut and handed the phone over to Twink.
Chapter 24
Breakfast had taken longer than expected, and by the time Twink and I left Zig’s Place, it was verging on nine. Naturally Todd had provided addresses for that day’s worth of interviewees. While Twink navigated us to Betsy Norman’s place on Bonanza Avenue, I decided to give Mel a call.
As soon as I heard her groggy hello, I knew I had awakened her out of a sound sleep. “What time is it?” she mumbled.
“Nine here,” I told her, “so ten there. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I just crawled into bed an hour ago,” she said. “I got a call out to a DV hostage situation around midnight. It didn’t end well.”
I heard the sorrow in her voice. Mel’s the chief of police in a small city. When something goes wrong, she’s there on the scene, working with her people and usually handling the media.
“How bad?” I asked.
“The wife bled out from stab wounds while we were negotiating with the asshole husband. He shot himself in the head as the Emergency Response Team was making entry. My guys found a four-month-old baby unharmed in a back bedroom. She’s an orphan now, currently in foster care.”
The heartbreak in Mel’s voice made my own heart ache as well, and the accompanying pang of guilt took my breath away. I should have been in Bellingham with her, backing her up, instead of off up here in Alaska on what suddenly seemed like a pointless wild-goose chase.
“I’m so sorry,” I managed. “I’ll hang up and let you go back to sleep.”
“No,” she said. “I needed to hear your voice. As for Sarah? I took her along on the call and left her in the car because I had no way of knowing when I’d get home. Once we got here, I let her out, but when I went to bed, she climbed up here right beside me. She must have known how upset I was. She helped me fall asleep.”
“Damn dog!” I muttered. “I’m away from home for just three nights, she’s already taken over my side of the bed.”
Mel laughed aloud at that, and the sound was music to my ears. Right then a tiny bit of laughter was what we both needed.
“As long as I’m awake now, what are you up to today?” she asked.
At that moment we were motoring down Bonanza Avenue, and Twink’s Travelall was pulling over in front of a small frame house set far back from the street. “I’m doing a few more interviews in Homer,” I told her. “We’re just now coming up on one of the residences. You go back to sleep. Call me when you’re up and about.”
“Will do,” she said.
I ended the call. “Something wrong with your wife?” Twink wanted to know.
“She had a rough night,” I answered. “She’s the police chief in Bellingham. There was a domestic case. Two people died on her watch last night, and a baby girl has been left an orphan.”
“Sorry,” Twink said. From the tone of her voice, I knew she meant it.
I bailed out of the car and made my way up a long shoveled walk to the house. I rang the doorbell twice before I finally heard footfalls inside. The door was opened by a red-haired, freckle-faced kid who appeared to be about fifteen. He was dressed in the bottom half of a pair of pajamas and looked as though he’d just crawled out of bed.