Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set (83 page)

I exited the apartment and hurried down the stairs, clinging to the railing for support. My lungs burned from the residual spray.

I was back in my car a minute later, completely exhausted.

I took a moment to steady my breathing and think. I needed to find Barbecue Billy's pronto. I looked it up on my smartphone. The place was located in Green Haven, the next town over from Bridgeport – a twenty-minute drive at the most.

As I started the car, something occurred to me.

Perhaps the initials
BB
on Glenn's calendar was not a person after all … but a place. What the hell had Glenn gotten himself into?

Chapter 17

Green Haven, like most New England towns, had a Main Street that ran down the middle. Quaint shops, cafe's, and an old movie theater gave the place a nostalgic feel. Barbecue Billy's was not located on Main Street, instead occupying a dead end street that intersected it.

I parked in the lot behind the one story building and made my way around to the front entrance. The inside of the place was all dark wood and dim lighting. Individual booths lined the far wall. The smell of tangy sauce and fried chicken reminded me of how hungry I was.

The place was dead – no surprise for three o'clock in the afternoon. A heavy-set woman dressed in poor quality cowboy attire stood at the front desk, wiping down laminated menus. She looked up and smiled from underneath the plastic cowboy hat. “Just one for lunch, honey?”

“
Actually, I was hoping you could help me out. Do you have a minute?”

“
Sure, hon, what can I do for you?”

“
Do you usually work on Tuesdays?” I asked.

“
Sure do. I'm here every day except Sundays. Oh, and sometimes Mondays if Janet feels like coming in. But she's out for a few months 'cause of the baby.”

More information than I needed, but I smiled politely and showed her the newspaper photo of Glenn Fleming. “Do you know this man? He came in here a little over a month ago.”

She studied the black and white photo for a few seconds then shook her head. “Gosh, I don't know. He does look kinda familiar, but I see a lot of people in a day. Are you his wife?”

“
No. I'm a private detective. I guess you didn't read about him in the paper.”

She looked down at the photo again and must have read the headline. “Shot during a burglary?” She covered her mouth with her hand. “That's horrible. I wish I could help you, honey. I really do”

“
Maybe you still can. Do you have surveillance cameras here?”

She laughed. “If the boss won't spring for air conditioning, he sure ain't gonna spring for no surveillance cameras.”

“
I understand. Would you happen to know a regular customer that goes by the name
boss
?”

“
Sorry. The only boss I know is the guy who owns this place. And speaking of bosses, I'd better get my can back to work. Sorry I couldn't be of more help to you, but good luck.”

“
I appreciate it just the same,” I said.

The freckled woman went back to wiping down the laminated menus. In the upper right hand corner of the menu was a caricatured image of a cowboy with heavy sideburns riding a bull. I pointed to it. “Cute drawing. Is that supposed to be the owner?”

She laughed. “Yep. That's William. Funny you should mention it – he hates it. Thinks it makes him look like a clown.”

“
William … what's his last name?”

“
O'Connor.”

“
Is he here right now?”

“
Out back like always. But I'm sure he won't be able to help you with your friend who died. He never comes out to the dining area if he can help it. Likes his privacy. He usually stays holed up in his office most days.”

“
Actually, he might be able to help. Mind if I go knock on his door?”

“
You can try. But like I said, he's the private type.” She pointed to the restroom sign on the far wall. “Go past the toilets. His is the last door.”

“
Thank you.”

I walked through the restaurant, past the restrooms. By the time I got to the door with no sign, my palms were sweating. I hoped whoever this guy was, he wouldn't try to hurt me in a public location.

I knocked three times. The door opened a few seconds later, and the real life version of Billy the bull rider came into view. Menacing grey eyes peered at me from underneath a set of bushy black eyebrows. The thick “lamb chop” sideburns seemed exceedingly obnoxious on his hollowed cheeks. A gold watch encircled his hairy forearm. His shirt was open, with only the two lowest buttons fastened. Several gold chains glittered against his hairy chest. He was the perfect combination of cowboy and gangster. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice gruff.

I smiled and gave a slight wave. “Hi there. My name is Sarah. Are you William, the owner?”

“
What's this about?”

I showed him the newspaper article. “I'm looking into the death of a man named Glenn Fleming. He was a customer at your restaurant. Can I come in? This will only take a few minutes.”

He ignored the article, his grey eyes never leaving my face. “You should have made an appointment.”

I stood there for a second, unable to move or speak. There was something about him that made the hair on my neck stand up. “I'm sorry. But since I'm already here …”

He stared me down for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but didn't get a warm, fuzzy feeling from the experience. Finally, he swung the door open wide. “Okay. Come on in.”

It wasn't a large room. A wooden desk with stacks of papers and a laptop occupied one side, a floor-standing safe located near the back. I wondered what he kept inside of it.

He gestured to a chair with a crooked leg. I sat down and tried to pretend I didn't notice the wobble.

“
So let me guess,” he said, plopping down into a plush, leather swivel chair behind his desk. “That guy's family wants to sue me for food poisoning or something.” He leaned back, rested his feet atop the desk, and crossed his legs. Black, weathered cowboy boots with silver studs. My heart stopped.

“
I uh ...” My brain shut down for a moment. I swallowed hard and tried to recover. “Glenn Fleming was shot during a burglary over a month ago,” I said, somehow able to keep the shakiness out of my voice.

“
What's that got to do with me?”

“
Do you remember seeing him here a few days before he died?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“
How do you know when you didn't even look at his picture?”

The corners of his mouth turned up into a half smile. “I don't interact with customers. That's what my staff is for.”

“
I see your point,” I said. “But I have a feeling you might have made an exception in this case. Right,
boss
? That's what they call you, right? The boss?”

He stared at me for a few seconds with a deadpan expression. His nostrils flared slightly as he scratched the side of his face. It sounded like fingernails on sandpaper. “First of all,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “It's none of your business. Second of all, where did you get your information?”

“
If you can honestly answer a question for me, I'll do the same,” I said. “Give and take.”

He laughed this time as if it were all a big joke. “Aren't you cute.”

“
Thanks,” I said, dismissing his sarcasm. “So getting back to Glenn. He came here to see you for a reason. What did he want from you?”

He smiled, all his cigarette-stained teeth on show. “He probably loved our secret barbecue recipe. It's award winning, you know.”

I exhaled a long breath, trying to remain calm. I grabbed my purse and stoop up. “I can see I've wasted your time and mine. Have a nice day.”

Chapter 18

I spent the next hour at the police station, explaining everything to Detective James about my meeting with Chloe Goodwin and William O'Connor, aka,
the boss.

Within seconds, Detective James got on his phone and gave the order to pick up both individuals for questioning, concerning the death of Glenn Fleming.

“
If we get a match on those cowboy boots, we may have enough evidence to charge him with armed robbery. But it would really help to find the gun used to shoot Glenn. And if Chloe Goodwin would be willing to testify against him, it would help even more.”

“
Good,” I said. “Do you mind if I sit in on the interrogation via the observation room?”

He smiled. “Why not. It's because of your persistence and intuition that we have any leads at all. Good work, Sarah.”

An hour and forty-five minutes later, William O'Connor, aka
the boss,
was sitting on a hard metal chair inside the interview room, thick arms folded across his chest. He'd been left alone for thirty minutes – a strategic tactic designed to create anxiety within a suspect's mind. As I observed Billy through the mirrored glass viewing window, I couldn't tell if he was anxious or not. His face showed no expression.

Detective James walked into the room, joined by another police officer. “Mr. O'Connor, we must inform you that this conversation will be recorded.”

William sat back and looked up with mild interest. “Why am I here?”

The detectives took their seats across the table from William. “We received a tip from a reliable source that you were involved in a series of armed robberies resulting in the death of one Glenn Fleming.”

William shook his head. “You got the wrong guy.”

“
Where were you on the night of Friday, March twenty-ninth, between four and seven p.m.?”

“
I was at home, alone.”

Detective James smiled. “Can anyone confirm that you were at home?”

“
No. Am I under arrest?”

“
Not at this time. We're just talking here. However, there's an easy way to prove your innocence,” Detective James said in his usual friendly tone. “We'd like to examine the boots you're wearing. It will only take a few minutes. You see, we've got this fancy new computer that can match up the footprints found at a crime scene with the actual footwear that made them.”

William's expression didn't change, but the thumb on his right hand flinched. “Maybe I should call a lawyer.”

“
You're certainly entitled to do so, but you haven't been charged with a crime. If you're innocent, you shouldn't mind if we take a look at your boots. This can all be over in a matter of minutes with your cooperation.”

William shifted awkwardly in his seat. “What if I say no?”

“
We're in the process of obtaining search warrants for your home, vehicle, and business. Oh, your cell phone, too. Even the clothes you're wearing. Like I said, you can make this easy or we can make it difficult. Your call.”

William leaned back with a smirk. “Fine. Take them.” William slowly removed his boots. The officer sitting next to Detective James put on a pair of latex gloves, placed the boots inside a plastic bag, and carried them out of the room. Detective James remained in his seat, sifting through his file. “So Mr. O'Connor, I see here that you were arrested two years ago for attempted murder. Would you like to tell me about that?”

“
I was found innocent,” he said. “Never even went to trial.”

“
Just because they didn't have enough evidence to convict you, doesn't mean you were innocent. Anyway, the reason you're here is to talk about Glenn Fleming. Why don't we start at the beginning. When did you first meet him?”

“
I don't remember meeting a guy by that name.”

Detective James slid a photograph across the table. “Let me refresh your memory. This is Glenn Fleming.”

William glanced at it, scratched his cheek, and shook his head. “Sorry. Never seen him before.”

“
Maybe your partner Chloe Goodwin will have something to say. She's on her way here right now.”

William looked up with a flash of concern, but quickly recovered. “Never met her, either.”

“
What really happened, William? Maybe you killed Glenn by accident when you robbed his gallery. Accidents do happen.”

“
Why would I confess to something I didn't do?”

“
Have it your way.”

Detective James bowed his head to view the file in front of him. He flipped the pages and took his time. “Mr. O'Connor, do you own a gun?”

“
Several. It's my constitutional right.”

“
Proper licenses and registrations for all of them I presume?”

“
Of course.”

Detective James looked up from the file and smiled. “Tell me about your restaurant, Barbecue Billy's. How long have you owned it?”

“
Since 1991.”

“
Over twenty years. Congratulations.”

“
Thanks.”

“
Now tell me about your little side business, Mr. O'Connor.”

“
What side business?”

“
Illegal gun distribution,” Detective James said.

William chuckled. “No idea what you're talking about.”

“
Thing is, we've been watching you for years. I have to say, you cover your tracks pretty well. But eventually, even the most clever operators make mistakes. Greed is usually a factor.”

William remained silent.

A faint buzzing sound prompted Detective James to consult his phone. A broad smile appeared on his face. “Guess what, Mr. O'Connor. We got the results of the boot print. An exact match to the ones found at the crime scenes. We can now charge you with armed robbery, which carries a maximum fifteen year sentence.”

William shook his head. “This is bullshit.”

“
William O'Connor, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”

After being read his Miranda rights, William leaned forward. “Okay, look. If I tell you everything I know … if I confess to my part in all of this, what can you offer me?”

“
If you confess to armed robbery and manslaughter, it's likely you'll escape the death penalty. But you'll need to tell me everything before any lawyers get involved.”

“
Okay, okay.” William rubbed his face, his tough exterior rapidly fading away. “That guy Glenn contacted me. I thought he wanted to buy a gun, but he had a different job in mind.”

“
What kind of job?”

“
He offered me money to help him commit suicide.”

Detective James stared. “Why would Mr. Fleming hire you to kill him?”

“
He said he needed his death to look like a murder so his wife could collect his life insurance. It was all his idea for me to rob the other galleries. Said it would help prove a burglar shot him. I thought it was too risky, but he offered me five grand. Five hundred up front, and forty-five hundred on Friday night when I showed up at his gallery to shoot him.”

Detective James leaned back and sighed in frustration. “From the beginning. And start with the first time you met Glenn Fleming.”

“
Glenn found an ad I placed on Craigslist. I listed my services as a “freelance supplier. When Glenn explained what he wanted and told me he was willing to pay big, I didn't want to do it at first. I thought the guy was tapped in the head.”

“
Did he explain why he wanted to die?”

“
He didn't want to discuss it, but it was obvious he'd been thinking about it long and hard because he already had a plan.”

“
That's quite a story, Mr. O'Connor. Do you have something in writing? A contract, perhaps, with Glenn's signature?”

“
Well, no.”

“
Do you have any proof? Maybe a recording of the conversation?”

“
No.”

Detective James shook his head. “

“
I'm telling you the truth,” William said.

“
I see what you're trying to do, Mr. O'Connor. You're trying to manipulate the justice system. If Glenn's death is ruled a suicide, the murder charge would go away. But there's no evidence to support that Glenn Fleming hired you to kill him. I think whatever business you guys had went bad, and you decided to seek revenge.”

William closed his eyes, shook his head, and uttered something under his breath.

“
What's that, Mr. O'Conner? Maybe I should leave you here alone for a few hours to come up with a more believable story.”

Detective James left the interrogation room and joined me next door. He paced the small room, hands on hips. “Does this guy think we're stupid or what? I can tell you right now, the prosecution is going to have a field day with this one. I have to talk to the chief, so … what are you going to do?”

I checked my cell phone. “I called Elizabeth a few hours ago to give her an update of what's going on, but she hasn't called me back. I'm afraid to tell her about all of this.”

“
Maybe you should wait,” he said. “It's not worth upsetting her. I have a feeling Mr. O'Connor will change his story. Maybe you should head home and check back later.”

“
Okay.”

“
By the way, Sarah, great work. Thanks to you, we've got him good.”

When I left the police station around 5:45 p.m., I headed straight to the Hometown Diner. I was starving and I needed some caffeine. The place wasn't crowded and I was thankful for that. I needed peaceful surroundings to help clear my head. This business with William O'Connor and his confession about Glenn had my insides tied up in knots.

I ordered the dinner special – Chicken Parmesan with roasted vegetables – and a black coffee. While I waited, I called Elizabeth again. This time she answered.

“
Sarah,” she said, sounding breathless. “I was just about to call you. I'm sorry I didn't answer my phone before. I was meeting with someone from the auction house. He's decided to take most of the paintings that weren't on consignment. Anyway, do you have news?”

“
Yes,” I said and hesitated. “Maybe we should talk in person.”

“
Okay. Good news, or bad?”

“
Um, it's kind of a mixed bag.”

“
Sarah, please. Just tell me over the phone.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “The police have a man in custody. He confessed to the crime.”

“
What? Are you serious? He confessed to shooting my husband? Who is he?”

“
His name is William O'Connor. I found him through Chloe Goodwin. Did Glenn ever mention him to you?”

“
No. Doesn't sound familiar. Is he an art thief?”

“
No. He owns a restaurant, but he's also involved in the sale of illegal weapons.” I hesitated. “There's something else. Maybe I should meet you back at the police station. Detective James can explain this better.”

“
But this is good news, right? I mean, if he confessed then he's going to jail. Did the police find the gun?”

“
Not yet. They're probably searching the guy's home and business as we speak. Look, Elizabeth, I'm about to eat dinner right now, but I can be back at the station in half an hour. Let's meet there?”

“
No need for you to rush through dinner. Take your time. You deserve it. And thank you, Sarah. I just knew you could do this. I'm so grateful. I'll see you in a bit.”

“
Okay.”

When the call ended, my dinner arrived. I wasn't so hungry anymore.

* * *

By 6:25 p.m. I was back at the police station. I noticed Elizabeth's late model Volvo parked in the lot and wondered what time she had arrived. Had Detective James already told her about William O'Connor's confession? The selfish part of me hoped he had, so I wouldn't have to see the look of shock and confusion on her face. Maybe O'Connor had changed his story.

Just when I was about to exit my car, my cell phone rang. I expected to see Elizabeth's number pop up, but it wasn't her. When I noticed the 312 area code, a knot formed in my chest.

“
Hello?” I said.

“
Um, is this Sarah Woods?” a soft, elderly woman's voice asked.

“
Yes. Speaking.”

“
My name is Judith Fleming. I'm returning your call in reference to my son, Glenn?”

I hesitated in order to swallow the lump in my throat. I hadn't expected a call from Glenn's mother so soon, but here she was. “Yes, that's right,” I said. “Thanks for calling me back. I … I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news about your son.”