Murder on Sagebrush Lane (5 page)

13

Harrie and Ginger watched Caroline playing with Katie. The two seemed oblivious to the conversation going on around them. It had been like that from the moment the child reached out her arms to Caroline.

“I still say this is beyond strange.” Harrie shook her head. “Caroline says she doesn’t know the family. But even if she did, that would hardly explain why Katie called her ‘Gamma.’”

Ginger said, “Is it possible Caroline and Katie have crossed paths?”

“I doubt it,” Harrie said. “I think Caroline must resemble a woman Katie knows. Maybe there really are other relatives we don’t know about.” She turned to DJ. “Didn’t Swannie say Mrs. Rinaldi’s stepsister was the only known relative?”

DJ shrugged. “That’s what he told me. Obviously we need to dig deeper.” He stood. “I’m gonna talk to Swannie again. We need to fill him in, and I want to look around for myself.”

Harrie pushed up from the recliner. “I’m going with you.” She held up her hand to silence him. “Don’t try to stop me. I have to retrieve Katie’s clothing and a few toys. Besides, there are things I need to verify, too.”

“Harrie, be reasonable,” Ginger joined in. “You know Swannie won’t let you in there.”

Harrie took a deep breath. “There’s something I haven’t told any of you yet. Things have been so hectic today. Maybe now is the time.” She smiled as she watched Caroline entertaining the tiny guest. She motioned to the others. “Come with me.”

Harrie led them into the kitchen. Ginger grabbed the coffee pot and filled cups. They sat at the kitchen table, and Harrie studied her coffee intently as she spoke in a low voice. “I had another dream. It woke me up this morning. I believe I saw the murder scene down the street.”

She told them about the dark room, the blood, and the faceless body she saw. For a moment no one said anything, and Harrie looked up. “I have to know if what I saw in my dream matches the crime scene.”

DJ looked at her a moment before he spoke. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Do you really want to invite those pictures into your head?”

Harrie’s faint smile contained no amusement. “Believe me, these pictures come into my head uninvited. All I can do is try to get to the bottom of things. When I get answers, the dream won’t come back—at least that particular one won’t.”

Steve had been quiet for a long time. “Let her do what she needs to do.”

Ginger turned to her husband, her eyes wide with surprise. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. Whatever happened to the ‘you girls should stay out of trouble’ advice you’re always giving us?”

“I know. That’s the way I usually feel when the two of you get mixed up in things you shouldn’t. But I’m beginning to see that Harrie can’t just walk away from this. If she’s being dogged by dreams again, she needs answers, and we need to help her.”

“I don’t know, Steve.” DJ shook his head. “How do you suggest we do this?”

Harrie said, “Excuse me, folks. Do I get to say anything?”

They turned in unison to look at her, as though they had forgotten she was there.

“Yes, it’s me, and I have a plan. Would you like to hear it?”

“This should be good,” Ginger said and looked at the ceiling. “Does it involve breaking into a house in the dark of night?”

Harrie relaxed and actually smiled. “No. Been there, done that. Just listen to my idea.”

“Hold that thought,” Caroline said. She had just walked into the kitchen with Katie in her arms. “This little lady needs some lunch.”

Harrie went to Caroline and took Katie from her. “Well, I just happen to have a treat I think she’d like. What do you say, sweetheart. Do you want a peanut butter sandwich?

Katie nodded and rubbed her eyes. Harrie kissed the top of her blonde head and handed her back to Caroline. “Okay, then. How about Aunt Ginger and I make sandwiches for everybody?” Katie nodded, as did DJ, Steve, Ginger and Caroline.

They sprang into action gathering items for the feast.

Steve rubbed his hands together and grinned. “I haven’t had a peanut butter sandwich in years.”

“Neither have I,” said DJ.

They set places for Caroline and Katie at the breakfast bar, and the others settled at the kitchen table. By unspoken agreement, they said no more about the murder, or the circumstances surrounding it, while they ate.

Harrie said, “I need to go to the store. We’re completely out of milk, and this child will need lots of that.”

“I’ll go for you after lunch,” Ginger said. “Make me a list, and by the time you return from your snooping expedition, we’ll be all set.”

When they were finished, Ginger gathered up the plates and put them in the sink.

“So, Harrie,” Ginger said, “you were going to tell us about this great plan of yours.”

Harrie joined her at the sink and rinsed dishes as she spoke. “It’s simple, really. I already mentioned to Swannie that I had to pick up a few of Katie’s things. I’m sure he’ll let me do that—especially if DJ’s with me.”

Steve walked over to where Ginger and Harrie were finishing up. “Ladies, this has been interesting, but I have a client coming in at two, and I have to get back to the office. Do you need me for anything else right now?”

Ginger kissed him on the cheek. “No, Honey. I think we have things under control for now. But check in later. There’s no telling what new situation will develop this afternoon.”

DJ walked Steve to the front door, and then went to his study to wait for Harrie. He still wasn’t sure about her going with him to the murder scene. But he agreed with Steve that it was probably necessary.

When they finished in the kitchen, Harrie prepared a grocery list, and Caroline went to put Katie down for a nap. Ginger grabbed her purse, and Harrie went with her to the front door. Before they reached it, the bell rang. The two women exchanged looks, and Harrie opened the door.

A young woman stood on the front porch. She looked to be in her early thirties, slim, with long blonde hair. She was probably very pretty when she didn’t look so angry. “Which one of you is Mrs. Scott?” she asked.

Harrie studied the woman a moment. She had a bad feeling about this.

“I’m Harrie McKinsey Scott. May I help you?”

The angry blonde looked Harrie up and down. “I understand you’ve taken custody of Katie Rinaldi. I’m here to take her home with me.”

14

Lt. Bob Swanson leaned back and scrubbed his face with his hands. “How many more?”

Officer Harley consulted his list. “Five more on the list, but there’s a guy out there who’s asking to speak to the person in charge.”

Swanson stood and stretched. “What’s his name?”

“Won’t say. He’ll only talk to the man in charge.”

“Damn! Now come the nuts. How do they always find out there’s a murder and people being questioned?” Swannie’s glum expression suddenly dissolved into a big grin. “Hey, wait a minute. I just had an idea. Maybe this is one for the FBI.”

Officer Harley frowned. “I don’t follow you, sir. Why would the FBI want to question this man?”

Swannie had his second wind now. The very thought of pawning off an annoying interview on the FBI was rejuvenating. “Well let me enlighten you, Officer Harley. You see, here’s the thing. The FBI is a specialized agency. They are really outstanding at interviewing difficult people. They have all the techniques for gaining the confidence of spies, terrorists, and other big-ticket criminals. This fellow out there who wants to talk to the man in charge sounds like a perfect fit for the Feds.” He reached for his phone and paused.

“Take that gentleman into the den and get Officer Montoya to stay with him. Then get back in here, and we’ll finish the last five interviews.” Swannie punched in the number and waited. The ringing on the other end of the phone stopped and DJ Scott answered.

“This is Scott.”

“DJ, this is Swannie. Could you come down here? We have a man who I believe may be of interest to the FBI. I would appreciate it if you could interview him.”

There was hesitation on the other end. Swannie broke the silence. “DJ? Are you there?”

“I’m here, Swannie. The thing is, I was just going to call you. We have a bit of a situation here, too.”

“Oh?” Swannie was beginning to regret his attempt to pawn off the John Doe on DJ. “What’s up?”

“I think you should come here instead. There’s a woman at our front door. She says she’s here to take Katie.”

“I thought you worked all that out with the judge this morning. Didn’t they call off CYFD?”

DJ lowered his voice. “That’s just the thing, Swannie. She’s not from CYFD. She says she’s the dead man’s sister-in-law. She says she’s Katie’s aunt.”

15

DJ had been watching for Swannie and opened the door before he could ring the bell. He steered him into the living room. “I have her waiting in my study. I thought you should talk to her before we told her anything.”

Swannie shook his head. “This keeps getting better and better. We wondered how to contact this woman, and she shows up on your doorstep. What are the odds?”

DJ leaned in closer to Swannie. “What I want to know is, how did she know we had Katie?”

Swannie pondered the situation. “Good question. Okay. I want you in this interview. There’s more to this than we thought.”

The study was across the hall from the living room, and DJ led the way. The woman sat stiffly in a wingback chair in the corner of the room. Swannie was struck by how her elegant clothing was at odds with her fierce gaze.

DJ closed the door. “This is Lt. Bob Swanson from the Albuquerque Police Department. He’s heading up the investigation into Michael Rinaldi’s death. Lieutenant, this is Mrs. Bonnie Bellows.”

The blonde gave DJ a withering look. “It’s ‘Miss’ Bellows. I’ve never felt the need to be a Mrs.”

DJ’s face remained a mask of neutrality, but his voice was tight. “Ah, Miss Bellows, then. Lt. Swanson has a few questions for you.” He retreated to the matching wingback chair in the opposite corner.

Swannie took his notebook from his pocket and opened it. He took a minute to make notes, allowing Miss Bellows to stew in her anger a bit longer. When he looked up, he gave her a warm smile and said, “So, how are you related to the deceased, Michael Rinaldi?”

Bonnie Bellows seemed taken aback by the question. “I’m . . . I mean I was . . .” She recovered her composure. “Michael was married to my sister.” She looked down at her hands, smoothing her skirt absently.

“According to our information, Mrs. Rinaldi only had a stepsister. Are you that stepsister?” He made more notes in his book.

Bellows shot at look at DJ. “I told you who I was, why am I being questioned?”

DJ remained silent, studying her reactions. She stood up and turned in exasperation to Swannie. “What’s going on here? Why am I being treated this way? I am Katie’s only relative, and I have a responsibility—no, I have a right to take her to my home. You people have no reason to keep her from me!”

Her outburst left her shaking. Swannie stood very still, his jaw clenched and pulsing. “Please sit down, Miss Bellows. We are a long way from making any decisions about Katie’s custody. Try to remain calm and answer my questions.”

She took a breath, and in the process transformed herself into a state of calm and composure they hadn’t seen since her arrival. She returned to her seat, sat down, crossed her right leg over the left, and leaned in on her elbow. She propped her chin in her hand, and the look she bestowed on Swannie was blatantly flirtatious. She smiled. “I’m nothing if not cooperative, Lt. Swanson.”

DJ stifled a grin watching Swannie’s discomfort with her change in attitude. But Swannie was a professional. He reached for his pen, and while making more notes, appeared to regain his control.

“Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with the deceased?”

The woman leaned back in her chair, a Mona Lisa smile on her face. “Michael was my sister’s husband, but then you already knew that, didn’t you Lieutenant?”

“Okay, so tell me how long ago Laura Rinaldi became your sister?”

“My father and Laura’s mother were both widowed. They met shortly after Laura’s father died. Laura’s mother, Alexis, was a bit needy it seemed to me. Anyway, they married about two years after they met.”

Swannie wrote as she talked. “And how old were you and Laura when your parents married?”

“Why Lieutenant. Are you trying to figure out how old I am?” She seemed to be enjoying herself at Swannie’s expense, but he ignored the bait. She twirled a lock of her hair and finally gave in. “I was in college. Laura had just graduated from college that same year. She got a job at a brokerage firm in New York City. She and Michael married about five years after that.”

“So,” Swannie said, “you didn’t grow up together or even spend any time in the same household?”

“What’s your point, Lieutenant?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit of a stretch to call her your sister? Did you even really know her?”

Bonnie Bellows shrugged. “We never spent holidays together, if that’s what you mean. But I knew her. We were both at our parents’ wedding. I saw her a couple of times after that.” She tapped her index finger on her chin, seemingly thinking about this period of her life. Then she brightened. “Oh, yes. I saw her again when she came to my father’s funeral.”

“So you wouldn’t describe your relationship as close?”

“Well, maybe not then. But in the last two years we were very close.”

“And why was that?”

Bonnie looked at Swannie as though he were very dense. “Because of Katie, of course.”

Swannie’s irritation seemed almost at a flash point. “Help me out here, Miss Bellows. What does Katie have to do with your becoming close to Laura Rinaldi?”

Bonnie Bellows obviously loved manipulating the interview. She was having a great time making Swannie pull the information out of her. She uncrossed her legs, reached for her handbag, and stood up. She was apparently ending the interview.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” she said with nary a hint of sorrow, “I just assumed you knew. Michael and Laura were unable to conceive. I volunteered to be a surrogate mother for them. I gave birth to Katie.”