Chocolate With A Side Of Murder Page 10

  Nathan had a beer can in his hand as he spoke with me. Judging by the red look in his brown eyes, I didn’t think it was the first drink he’d had since arriving home from the funeral service. Typically, alcohol loosened a person up. Would that be the case here? Or was he inebriated to the point where he would end up lashing out at me? I knew that I had to walk a very fine line.

  “Sabrina. What are you doing here?” Nathan asked.

  I extended my sympathies. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry about what happened to your father.”

  Nathan looked down at the ground. “Thank you for your support, but I don’t really want to talk about my dad right now.”

  I gave him a look of deep empathy. “I understand that it’s a really emotional time for you.”

  He let out a big sigh. “There’s an understatement.”

  My plan wasn’t working. I could see him already trying to inch his way out of the conversation.

  If I was going to get any useful information out of him, I needed to find a way to get him to open up. When Nathan took another swig of his drink, an idea came to me.

  “It feels like beer was invented for times like this,” I said.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Although I’m not sure that there’s enough beer in the world to get through this. Speaking of, I really want to be left alone right now.”

  Uh-oh.

  This interview was slipping away from me. If I didn’t come up with a stall tactic on the fly, our discussion would come to an abrupt end. I had to make a last-gasp effort to keep him from closing the door on me.

  Given my time constraints, I was amazed that I was able to come up with anything. “Your mother was really worried about you. She wanted me to check up on you.”

  It was a total lie. Would he be able to see through it?

  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  I was really grasping at straws now. Still, I had to do everything in my power to keep him talking. “Are you sure? You just told me there wasn’t enough beer in the world to get through this.”

  “Things are rocky right now, but I can take care of it.”

  It was hard not to let my frustration boil over. No matter what I threw at him, he continued trying to worm his way out of talking to me.

  Even so, I couldn’t give up. It was time to come up with something clever. Or to double-down on my lie. Whichever got me the answers I was looking for.

  “Your mother was particularly worried about you after that fight you had with your uncle,” I said.

  Nathan got a steely look in his eyes. “If Hank doesn’t start any more trouble, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Finally, he gave me something to work with. Now that I knew what button to press to get him worked up, I tried to make him as uncomfortable as possible. “I wouldn’t count on that. Your uncle does not have the most complimentary things to say about you or your mother.”

  I had tried things the nice way, only to have that tactic fail miserably. Going right after his sore spots produced much better results. Apparently, telling him that his uncle had thrown him under the bus was just the trigger that he needed.

  Nathan became very animated. “Hank badmouthed my mother to you?”

  Thankfully, this time, I didn’t actually have to lie. In addition, the truth provided quite an interesting insight. For example, Nathan only seemed to care that his mother had been painted in a negative light. His own reputation didn’t appear to matter to him at all.

  I confirmed that Hank did not have favorable things to say about Nathan’s mother, which only spurred Nathan’s anger on even more.

  “What did he say?” Nathan asked.

  “That your mother might have been responsible for your father’s death,” I said.

  If Nathan wasn’t worked up before, he was practically spitting fire after hearing my response. It turned out that there was nothing quite like pitting one suspect against another to grease the wheels of an interview.

  “You can’t listen to anything my uncle says,” Nathan replied.

  Things were starting to get very interesting. With Nathan at a fever pitch, I played along, eager to hear if he would provide me with a new lead.

  “Why shouldn’t I listen to him?” I asked.

  “Hank acts like my father only fired him because my mother forced him to. In reality, if he wasn’t such a train wreck, he’d still have a job.”

  “Is that what he and your mother were arguing about in the parking lot? Him being fired?”

  Nathan nodded. “Yeah.”

  “You are very protective of your mother.”

  “Of course I am. That’s what good sons do.”

  “I don’t disagree. What intrigues me is that I don’t remember you ever being as protective of your father.”

  He wasn’t expecting me to turn the tables on him like that. In his inebriated state, he wasn’t able to produce a quick response. Even when he did reply, he only provided a weak argument.

  “That’s not true,” Nathan replied.

  I gave him a look of complete disbelief, which only made him want to defend himself even more. Before he had the chance to, I made sure that I got the next word in. At the same time, now that I had him back on his heels, I wanted to see if I could squeeze the truth out of him.

  “I’m pretty sure I know why you aren’t so quick to defend your father,” I replied. “You see, your uncle told me something else—”

  “I already told you that you shouldn’t listen to him.”

  “Even when he told me that your father was cheating on your mother?” I asked.

  Anger came quickly to his face. “Especially then. I don’t know where Hank got that information from.”

  “Hank told me that he saw your father and Melissa Wilcox together.”

  “That’s all news to me,” Nathan replied.

  “Hank says otherwise.”

  Nathan glared at me. “We have already established that you can’t believe my uncle.”

  “That’s curious, because Hank told me you were livid at your father for betraying your mother like that,” I said.

  He blew his top. “For the last time, I didn’t know my father was cheating on my mother!”

  I shot him a critical stare. “Where did Hank get that information from, then?”

  “That’s the problem with my uncle,” Nathan said. “He has a nasty habit of just making things up.”

  I folded my arms. “He seemed pretty truthful to me.”

  Nathan’s voice took on a frantic tone. “That’s because he’s a good con artist. Lying comes naturally to him. He’s the one who probably did it.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “Why would he kill your father?”

  “Money.”

  “What money?” I asked.

  “My father’s will.”

  “Hank is listed in the will?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “How do you know that?” I said.

  “Because I’ve seen the will.”

  I filed that point to use later. In the meantime, I pressed Nathan for details.

  “Do you have any proof of that your uncle is the killer?” I asked.

  As I expected, he had no evidence to speak of. Not that he came right out and admitted that. Instead, he chose to remain vague. “Let’s just say that I have an instinct about it.”

  What he failed to realize was that instincts weren’t enough to convict someone of murder. A prosecutor needed more than that. Since Nathan didn’t volunteer any additional information, I was confident that he didn’t have any.

  Nathan did manage to unknowingly open up a new line of questioning for me to follow.

  “Money is a good motivator,” I said.

  “It sure is.”

  “Speaking of your father’s will, I’m sure you are mentioned in it as well.”

  Nathan became defensive. “Hey. I don’t like where you are going with this—”

  “I’ll bet you stand to inherit a bunch of money from your father
’s death.”

  His face tensed up. “Stop that right now!”

  “Are you denying it?” I asked.

  “I would never kill my father, much less for money.”

  “You said it yourself, money is a big motivator.”

  “Yeah, for my uncle, not for me.”

  “A big payout doesn’t interest you, then?” I asked.

  He tried to plaster on the most sympathetic look that he could muster. “I’d rather have my father back.”

  “Even after how he cheated on your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re very forgiving of your father,” I said.

  “I’m not happy about what he did, but there’s a big difference between being upset and killing someone,” he said.

  I had hesitated in nailing him on the harder points, but since he was already so heated, I figured there wasn’t a better time to go after him. “You keep accusing your uncle of being a murderer, but from what I hear, you don’t have any proof of your own innocence. Isn’t it right that your alibi is shaky at best?”

  I had taken a risk calling him out like that. The potential upside was the prospect of getting him to crack. That didn’t happen. Instead, I was faced with worst-case scenario.

  “I want you out of here!” he yelled.

  David had told me that when it came to arguing with a suspect, the best course of action was not to fight fire with fire. As a suspect became more unhinged, it was important to keep cool. The calmer I remained, the more unsettling it would be for Nathan.

  I replied in as calm of a manner as possible. “What’s the matter? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  That was an understatement. Nathan became completely unhinged. He opened up a closet that was beside the entryway to his apartment and pulled out a baseball bat.

  “Out—now!”

  This was one of those times when even pepper spray wouldn’t do. With the interview having taken a violent turn, I knew it would be best for me to back away. Sure, I could have pepper sprayed him, but that wouldn’t get me answers. I took a few steps back and made one last plea.

  “For someone who insists they are innocent, you are sure making yourself look guilty,” I said.

  He shot me a glare. “Don’t make me use this bat.”

  Nathan had lied to me throughout much of the interview, but as I looked into his eyes, I could tell that he was now telling me the truth.

  I saw no choice but to tuck tail and run. When Nathan saw that his threats had forced me away, he slammed the door shut to his apartment.

  As I made my way back to my car, I heard him say one last thing.

  “Don’t you come back.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  That definitely could have gone a whole lot better. It would have been easy for me to let myself get discouraged, but I knew how important it was to hold strong. It could spell disaster if I let the missed opportunities with Nathan spill over into my next suspect interview.

  From an investigative standpoint, it was crucial to approach every conversation with a level head and a short emotional memory. Each discussion was different. Just because the last one had blown up in my face didn’t mean that the same thing would happen again. After all, my next interview could potentially provide me with the break I had been looking for.

  Driving back toward the coast, I found that steadying my emotions turned out to be a lot easier said than done. I took one deep breath after another, hoping that would lower my heart rate, yet my pulse continued to race. The threat of violence had that effect on me.

  Fortunately, by the time I reached the chocolate shop, I was able to get my breathing under control. Whether I would be able to keep calm for long was entirely dependent on how Patrick Doherty reacted to my questions. I would like to say that the chance of a violent outburst from him was minimal, but if this investigation had proven anything, it was that all bets were off.

  I did have higher hopes for this next interview, solely because it would be conducted in a public place. A murder suspect would have to be crazy to cause a scene in plain view of customers. Then again, I was dealing with murder suspects here, so the idea that they could be crazy wasn’t so far-fetched. That being said, I didn’t know any business owner who wanted to cause a fracas in their own store. Would Patrick be different?

  I headed inside the shop with my focus on talking to Patrick, but I quickly found myself becoming distracted as I ran into a familiar face. Of all the people to spot in the chocolate shop, I saw Tom Dillon waiting in line. The real estate developer who had once been one of my regulars had not set foot in my coffee shop since I had asked him about the mysterious meeting that he had attended the other night.

  When I saw him holding a cup from a rival coffeehouse in town, it became clear to me where he had been going to get his caffeine fix the last few days.

  With my curiosity stoked, I took my focus off of Patrick for a moment and zeroed in on Tom. After all, Patrick wasn’t going anywhere. Tom, meanwhile, was a different story.

  I snuck up behind the real estate developer and surprised him with my greeting.

  “Mr. Dillon,” I said.

  I saw Tom’s muscles tense up as he heard my voice. He reluctantly turned around, keenly aware that there was no escaping the awkward conversation that was to come. Tom had a nervous look on his face that was akin to a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “Oh, hi,” he replied.

  Who did he think he was fooling? I had no interest in making small talk. There were some big issues on my agenda, and I didn’t hesitate to launch right into them.

  “I haven’t seen you at the shop in a few days,” I said.

  Sweat beads formed on his forehead. Tom couldn’t wait to duck out of the conversation. With me standing between him and exit, he knew that he couldn’t get out of answering my questions. Not that he was terribly descriptive with his answers.

  All he was willing to give me was a one-word reply. “Yeah.”

  I would be doing my curiosity a grave disservice if I didn’t address the elephant in the room. My focus switched to the coffee cup in his hand. “It looks like you jumped to my competitor.”

  He followed my eye line to the cup that he was clutching onto.

  Tom fired off the best excuse he could come up with. “McLatte’s is closer to my house.”

  Really? He was going to pretend that he had stopped coming to my shop because my rival’s place was closer to his house? There was one major problem with that logic, especially since I was talking to him while standing in the chocolate shop that was located directly next to my coffeehouse.

  “Yet you had no problem driving all the way over here to get some chocolate,” I replied.

  “This place has the best chocolate in town,” he said.

  Tom thought he was doing a good job of covering his tracks, but in the process, he had managed to insult my coffee shop.

  “Excuse me, but Daley Buzz has the best coffee in town. Or are you really going to tell me that McLatte’s brews a better cup of coffee than I do?”

  Tom grimaced. One thing he didn’t do was provide an answer. I had never seen him look more out of sorts in my life. It should have come as no surprise. He had been evasive a few days ago when it came to his secret meeting. Tom was just repeating the pattern here—with the same lousy result. Now he found himself backed into a corner, and he was having trouble finding a way out.

  Since things didn’t look like they could get more awkward between us, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to cut right to the heart of the matter.

  “Or did you just go to McLatte’s because the baristas there don’t ask you questions about that secretive mixer you went to the other night?” I asked.

  Tom became squirmy. “I just needed a quick cup of coffee to get my day going, and they were closer to my house.”

  I had to stop myself from laughing. One of the byproducts of investigating Andrew’s murder was that it had given me some clues abou
t human behavior—especially when someone was lying to me. Without even realizing it, I had used some of the same tactics to question Tom as I had when talking to the various murder suspects.

  The similarities didn’t stop there. Tom was wriggling just like a number of the suspects had when I had asked them some uncomfortable questions. Whether he intended to or not, instead of satisfying my curiosity, Tom’s responses only made me want to dig deeper.

  “So when is your next mixer?” I asked.

  Tom tried to slink away. “I’m not sure.” He set his sights on the exit. “Anyway, I should be going.”

  Could he be more obvious that he was hiding something? Tom was just lucky that I was so busy with this murder investigation that I didn’t have the time or the energy to pin him down any further.

  Seeing how much I still had on my plate, I didn’t give him the business.

  “Let me guess. You have work, right?” I asked.

  He gladly used my excuse. “Right.”

  “Well. Enjoy this chocolate shop now. Jake Williamson is going to buy it and turn it into another soulless chain.”

  Tom still cringed when he heard the name of his old business partner. They had gone their separate ways over a year ago, but the bad blood still boiled between the former partners. Tom’s lips pursed as he tried not to let his bitter feelings burrow too deep under his skin. His efforts were in vain. He was still so bitter about how they had parted ways that the mere mention of Jake’s name still set Tom off.

  To fully understand Tom’s animosity, you had to know their history. Since getting into the real estate game, Tom’s success had come from the residential side of the business, while Jake had specialized in commercial properties. A business partnership seemed like a natural fit, as it allowed them to dominate both sides of the industry.

  The problem was that their company wasn’t big enough to house both of their egos. They were both alpha men, refusing to settle for nothing less than top-dog status. The more their egos clashed, the more untenable the situation became, until finally their partnership imploded. Like a romance that had gone sour, the subsequent breakup of their business partnership was messy. Not only did they have a falling out—the two men completely hated each other.