Dirty Rotten Tendrils (29 page)

 

 

Sitting in the last booth at Down the Hatch, Marco and I ordered sandwiches and beer and then discussed strategy. Working all evening wasn’t how I’d hoped to spend my time with him tonight, but we didn’t really have a choice. At least we’d be together.

Gert dropped off our beers as Marco put our plan into action. He phoned the physician who provided medical care to the county nursing home residents and got the doctor to verify that Darla Mae had made rounds with him Monday afternoon. However, he couldn’t vouch for her whereabouts after five o’clock. He told Marco to talk to Pat, the other nurse on duty.

Next, Marco phoned the warden at the county jail and set up a visit with Andrew at seven o’clock that evening. It was something of a miracle that he was able to arrange it on such short notice, especially since it wouldn’t even be during regulation visiting hours. Marco would only say that the warden owed him a favor.

Then, while I ate my Philly sandwich, he flipped through his notebook, found Lipinski’s secretary’s number, and called her. “Joan, this is Marco Salvare. Sorry to bother you again, but I have a few more questions for you. Do you have time to talk?”

While he was on the phone, I made a quick call to my sister-in-law to see how Tara’s rehearsal was going.

“Their act is a little rough yet,” Kathy said, “but it’s really cute. I think they actually have a shot at making the cut. We’ll probably be here for a few more hours.”

“How are the minirappers?” Marco asked, when I ended the call.

“Still rehearsing. Did Joan tell you anything new?”

“No. She was making dinner. I set up a meeting at eight o’clock at the coffee shop.”

After we’d cleaned our plates, Marco suggested we make a suspect list to take to the meeting with Dave’s attorney. I volunteered for secretarial duty—Marco’s handwriting is impossible to read—and finished my beer while he went to get a legal pad.

I readied the pen, then began to write as Marco dictated from his notebook.

“Number one, Darla Mae, the Lip’s ex-wife, is an LPN and works at a nursing home, with access to prescription drugs.”

I wasn’t happy about putting Darla Mae first, but it was Marco’s list, not mine.

“Number two, Herbert Chapper, Andrew’s grandfather, goes to a VA hospital for therapy for PTSD and is on Limbitrol, an antidepressant.

“Number three, Andrew Chapper, plaintiff in the lawsuit against Cody Verse, has access to his grandfather’s meds.

“Number four, Tansy Chapper—”

“Wait, Marco. Tansy? Seriously?”

“We can’t exclude her, Abby. She has access to her husband’s medicine, too.”

Couldn’t argue that point. I put her down.

“Number five,” he continued, “Cody Verse, rock star, using steroids, could also be on antidepressants to counteract the side effects.”

“Okay, wait,” I said. “Before we say he’s on steroids, shouldn’t we have some proof?”

“This is just a rough list. But just so you know, I found Cody’s publicity photos from when he first applied to be a contestant on the
America’s Next Hit Single
show on one of those celebrity Web sites and compared them with recent photos. The changes are dramatic. His head is bigger. His neck has almost doubled in size. His chest and arms are noticeably developed—all typical signs of steroid use.”

“I remember noticing that when he was on TV. I didn’t even think about it being from steroids.”

“I notice it a lot in baseball players. Another point of note: People on steroids often get the jitters and can’t sleep, so they’re prescribed antidepressants and sleeping pills.”

“Cody was definitely jumpy during his TV spot. So how do we find out whether he’s taking antidepressants?”

“I’ll have to work on that one.” Marco took a sip of beer, then checked the time on his watch. “Ready to talk to Andrew?”

“You bet.” I grabbed my coat and purse and followed Marco out of the bar.

 

 

It took more than ten minutes for us to go through all the security procedures at the county jail, then another ten in the tiny visitor’s cubicle waiting for Andrew to show up. When he finally shuffled into the other side of the room, even in his prison garb and ankle cuffs Andrew was a drop-dead-gorgeous young man, definitely rock-star quality. With his slim build, wide shoulders, vivid blue eyes, clear skin, and shiny dark hair, he made Cody look like a wannabe.

Andrew took a seat behind the glass and bowed his head, one side of his dark brown hair falling over his left eye. I wanted to give him a big hug and tell him everything would be all right.

Judging by Marco’s stern expression, however, he didn’t find Andrew as sympathetic a figure as I did. He introduced himself and held his ID up to the glass, rapping with his knuckle to get Andrew’s attention.

After giving Marco a sullen glare, Andrew looked at it, glanced at me briefly as I was introduced, then dropped his head again. It wasn’t until he heard that we were working for Dave that he showed a spark of interest.

“Have you seen my grandma?” he asked earnestly, leaning toward the speaking device in the glass. “Is she okay?”

Interesting that he hadn’t asked about his grandfather.

“Your grandma is fine,” Marco said. “We were there earlier today.”

Andrew slapped the counter with his hands. “I should be home with her. I can’t believe the cops put me in here, man. I didn’t harm anyone.”

“Sheer luck,” Marco said sharply. “You could have killed someone. Drunk, resisting arrest, carrying a concealed weapon, and if that wasn’t stupid enough, you told the cops the gun had a bullet in it meant for Cody Verse. What the hell were you thinking?”

Andrew ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “I don’t know! I was wasted.”

“That’s your defense?” Marco asked. “You were wasted?”

“I just get angry sometimes,” Andrew said through clenched teeth.

“Now you know what happens when you get angry,” Marco said. “You get stupid. You’re going to have to be smart if you want to be a successful musician.”

“Like that’s ever going to happen,” he muttered.

“Didn’t Dave tell you that Cody wants to settle out of court?” I asked.

“Yeah. So?”

“You won, Andrew,” I said. “Cody is basically admitting that you cowrote that song. You’ll be able to go to music school now.”

“I wish I had that choice,” Andrew muttered, head down again.

“You have the choice of not going to jail,” Marco said.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered.

“Where did you get the gun?”

“It’s Herbert’s.”

“Doesn’t he keep it locked up?” Marco asked, pulling out his notebook.

“Yeah.” Andrew began to trace letters carved into the counter with his thumbnail.

“What were you planning on doing with the gun?”

Andrew shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Yeah, right,” Marco said. “Hey. Look at me. What were you going to do with the gun?”

Andrew lifted his head and glared at Marco. “Why should I tell you?”

“I’m trying to help you, you numskull.”

I gave Marco a surprised look. I’d never seen him question anyone that way.

“You won’t believe me,” Andrew said sullenly.

“Try me,” Marco said.

Andrew glanced around, as though checking to see if the cop outside his door could hear, then leaned toward the speaker and said, “I wanted to punish Cody for betraying me. I wanted to put the gun to his head and make him beg for my forgiveness.” He sat back smugly.

“Try again.”

Then Marco waited, his steady gaze making Andrew shift uncomfortably, rake his fingers through his hair again, and finally mutter, “I was going to throw it in the lake.”

Marco didn’t say a word, just continued to gaze at him.

Andrew slapped the counter. “That’s the truth, man! I wanted to get rid of it.”

“Why?” Marco asked.

“I can’t say.”

“I think you’d better say.”

He pushed back his chair with a frustrated huff. “I don’t trust Herbert, okay?”

“What did you think he was going to do?”

“I just wanted to get the gun out of the house, that’s all. Herbert scares me sometimes. I don’t think he should have a gun. But the cops pulled me over before I could get rid of it.”

“The timing bothers me,” Marco said. “Cody comes back to town, you go to court, your grandfather causes a scene, Lipinski dies, and suddenly you decide to get rid of the gun. See what I mean? It looks suspicious.”

“Coincidence, I guess.”

Marco gazed at him as though trying to figure him out. “Can you prove you weren’t on your way to see Cody with that gun?”

“Yeah, by the direction of my car. I was way up north. I’d have to be going southeast to get to the hotel. The cops should’ve figured that out.”

I saw Marco write in his notebook:
Check with Reilly re: direction of car.

“Where were you Monday afternoon?” Marco asked.

“Delivering furniture.”

“By yourself?”

“No, with another guy from the store. Call my boss if you don’t believe me.”

“What time did you get off work?”

“Five o’clock.”

“Where did you go after that?”

“Home.”

“You didn’t stop anywhere?”

“No, why?”

“Your grandmother said you worked until eight o’clock.”

“Not last Monday. I got off work early.”

“Where was your grandfather when you got home?”

“In the kitchen. Grandma made an early supper that day.”

“Was your grandfather home all evening?”

“Sure.”

“Does he ever leave the house by himself?” Marco asked.

“When he goes for a walk.”

Herbert took walks by himself. The Chappers lived on the south side of the railroad tracks, a good distance from the highway and Lipinski’s law office—but if he followed the tracks due west, it might be only a half-hour trek.

I thought Marco would follow up on Andrew’s answer, but he took a different tack. “Does your grandfather drive?”

“Not anymore. He almost got himself and Grandma killed once because of one of his flashbacks. Now he’s afraid to drive.”

“Do you know what medicine your grandfather uses?”

“Some kind of antidepressant. Whatever it is, it doesn’t work.”

“How so?”

“He still has big mood swings. He still gets in rages . . . talks about killing himself. People shouldn’t have to put up with that crap.”

“Has he ever harmed your grandmother?”

“No,” Andrew said, rubbing his arm in short, jerky movements. “He knows if he ever touched her, I’d take Grandma and get the hell out of there.”

That surprised me. “You’d leave him on his own?” I couldn’t help asking.

“Are you kidding? In a minute.”

“Has your grandfather ever hit you?” I asked.

“Nah. Herbert treats me like I’ll break. When he gets stressed, Grandma’s the one who suffers. He should be locked up in a mental ward, but Grandma says she took a solemn oath to stay with him. You know, in sickness and in health?” He gave me a disgusted look.

Wow. When the Chappers took those vows, they sure didn’t know what was in store for them. It was probably best that people weren’t able to predict their futures or who’d be brave enough to get married? I glanced at Marco and he glanced at me. Was he thinking the same thing?

“Let’s go back to Monday,” Marco said. “Did your grandfather go for a walk that evening?”

“I don’t know. I don’t watch Herbert every minute.”

“But earlier you said he was home all evening.”

“I was in my bedroom recording a new song, okay? Check my computer. It logs the time and date I record. So I don’t know whether he went for a walk.”

“Your grandmother said he was home all evening.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“Why did you change your answer?”

“Because—” He hesitated. “I didn’t want you to know I was in my room. How can I swear they were home if I say I was in my room all night? Now, how about telling
me
something? Like when I’m getting out of here?”

“Dave’s going to court in the morning,” I told him. “With any luck, you’ll be out before noon.”

“Do me a favor,” Marco said. “When you get home, apologize to your grandparents for what you put them through. I don’t care how you feel about your grandfather. Both of them took you in and raised you, and they deserve respect for that. Do you understand me?”

My cell phone vibrated. I took it out of my purse, saw that Nikki had texted me, so I read her message while Marco wrapped up the interview.

As we exited the jail, I said, “You were awfully tough on Andrew.”

“He needed it. The idiot could get jail time for what he did.”

“Do you believe either of Andrew’s stories about the gun?”

“He was drunk, we know that for sure. I’ll check with Reilly about where he was picked up. That might help me decide. I’m also going to have another talk with Andrew’s grandmother. I want to know why she told us Andrew worked until eight Monday night.”

“I’d say it was to protect him, but she could’ve said he was home with her.”

Marco opened the car door for me. “So why didn’t she?”

“Maybe she simply forgot.”

“Or maybe she didn’t know where Andrew was.”

“But Andrew said his computer would show he was there.”

“Computer programs can be manipulated, Sunshine.” He shut the door and went around to the driver’s side.

I buckled my seat belt, reviewing Andrew’s answers, the hurt behind his anger at Cody, and the bitterness that came through whenever he mentioned Herbert Chapper. “I don’t think Andrew killed Lipinski. He wouldn’t do anything that would cause him to be taken away from his grandmother. He’s too protective of her.”