For The Love Of Laurel (14 page)

Chapter 20

Laurel put on her sunglasses as Dylan drove down the main drag. “Chaber, Pennsylvania. Company town. I’ve heard of them, but have never been to one.”

“I’ve seen a lot of them. This looks more upscale than most. Check the GPS. The police station has to be around here somewhere.”

Laurel did. “About three more blocks. On the left.”

Dylan parallel parked at a meter in front of the police station sandwiched between Randy’s Candies and a Starbucks. “This is your baby. I’m just along for the ride. If you need my creds, you’ve got ‘em. Otherwise, it’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” She opened the car door and stepped into humid heat. She briefly stretched to work out the kinks from sitting for hours, and then joined Dylan on the sidewalk, watching as he fed the parking meter.

Together, they entered the station. It was cool inside.

“I expected ceiling fans blowing hot air around,” Laurel whispered, removing her sunglasses and tucking them in her purse.

Dylan took off his glasses as well. “Too upscale for that. I imagine Chaber Pharma likes to keep its residents happy.”

“Even the criminals, apparently.”

A fit, fiftyish man walked toward them. His hair was just beginning to gray at the temples. He gave them a welcoming nod. “Ms. Avidon? Steve Carson.”

She handed him her business card. “Detective Carson. It’s nice to meet you. This is my colleague, Dylan Kraft.”

The two men shook hands. “Come into my office.”

They followed him into a room where he directed them to chairs in front of a mahogany desk. A laptop, phone, and several pens and scratch pads were all that were on the desk. Laurel had expected to see a stack of files then noted there were no file cabinets
. In this electronic age, file cabinets are becoming obsolete.
There wasn’t even a calendar. Who needed one these days?

“Would you like something to drink? No dented coffee pots with day-old dregs. We go next door.”

Laurel and Dylan declined.

“All right, then. Maybe you can tell me why you’re here.”

Laurel sat forward in her chair. “As I said on the phone, I’m interested in finding out what you know about a cold case.” She reached into her purse, pulled out the newspaper article she’d found in the hidden room, and handed it to Carson.

He gave it little more than a cursory glance. “What’s your interest in this case?”

“My father died recently and I found this in his effects. He worked for Chaber Pharmaceutical for many years, and I’m curious as to why he kept this. It was unlike him, so it must have meant something to him. I was hoping you could tell me more about the murders than is in that article.”

Carson regarded her with something akin to suspicion. “What’s to tell? The newspaper said everything.”

“You never caught the killer?”

“No.” Suddenly, he appeared more interested. “Do you think your father did it?”

“I have no reason to believe that. I’m thinking more along the lines that he and Mr. Markham might have been friends.”

“Possibly, but so what?”

Laurel winced. She hadn’t considered how it would seem to the cop to dredge all this up.

“Okay. I admit I have wondered about my father’s role. If he was friend or foe.”

Carson’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Really? Why would you even wonder about such a thing with regard to your own father? Where did you say you found that article?”

“In my father’s personal files. After he died.”

“Well, even if he was involved, there’s nothing we can do to him now. Dragging this back into the limelight would serve no purpose. I was a young cop on the beat when it happened. This town was in shock for months. Gun sales skyrocketed, people kept their kids close. But after a while, the citizens realized it was an isolated incident and relaxed their guard. To open old wounds now just to satisfy your curiosity is something I’m not willing to do. I suggest you go back to San Diego and forget about this.” He handed the article back to her.

“You seem awfully eager to let it go,” Dylan said.

Carson shook his head. “The Markhams had no family, no one who needs closure, as people like to say. What’s the point in pursuing this?”

Dylan put his flat badge and Photo ID on the desk. Laurel thought Carson eyed them as if they were poisonous snakes. Dylan said, “Back around that time, there were some nasty rumors about Chaber Pharmaceuticals. I know I don’t have to spell it out. The question is if the Markham murder was random or if Markham was silenced because he knew too much.”

Laurel was stunned. Was Dylan bluffing? If not, how would he know any of this? All of a sudden that date and expensive pen from Mel Chaber were making way too much sense. It was one thing to have a suspicion, but quite another to practically be told that Gerald Avidon was far worse than she could process. And to hear it from Dylan? She fought to keep her expression neutral.

Carson stood and walked to the window. He spent a few moments gazing out. At last, he came back to his desk and sat down, his shoulders slumped.

“This case haunts me. Ms. Avidon, when you called to say you wanted to see me about the case, I knew I shouldn’t agree, but I didn’t think you’d have anything. Maybe, though, I hoped you did. I’ve always thought it was a professional hit and, if so, we’d never find who did it. I was well aware of the rumors.” He glanced at Dylan. “But as I said, I was a beat cop and nobody would have listened to me. I’m sure my superior was in Chaber’s pocket.”

“Are
you
?” Dylan pressed.

“No. I assure you I’m not. But it is a fine line to walk in a town like this, as you might imagine. I don’t know what you hoped to find, but I have no idea who killed those poor people. For whatever reason, you seem to think it may have been your father, Ms. Avidon. I wish I could give
you
some closure.” His tone was wistful.

“I will say two things, and then this meeting has to end. The first is to you, Agent Kraft. My gut tells me your organization should do an investigation of Chaber Pharma.” Laurel flashed an I-told-you-so glance at Dylan. “If the rumors were true and Markham was killed because of something he knew, killing him would have been all Chaber needed to continue doing something that might interest you.

“Ms. Avidon, I don’t know who killed the Markhams, but I do know the paper was wrong. They printed what they were told to print, but I happen to know the house was not burned to the ground in the initial fire. It was obliterated a few hours after the police and Chaber reps investigated. The bodies, though charred, were able to be identified.

“But here’s the kicker. Despite what the article says, the nursery wasn’t touched by the fire, and no baby was found there or anywhere else in the house.”

“Maybe that was misreported too. They might not even have had a child.”

“Oh, they did. Gina Markham used to dress that beautiful baby girl in frilly pink dresses and walk all over town, pushing the stroller. She doted on Delilah and loved to share her with her friends and neighbors. Which is why it was so strange the baby wasn’t at home that night.”

“Maybe they wanted a night alone and left the baby with grandma.”

“Nope. No relatives, remember? We canvassed the neighborhood and contacted their friends to find out if any of them happened to babysit Delilah that night, but it didn’t pan out. And that’s what haunts me most of all. That little girl simply vanished.”

Laurel didn’t say much as they drove to the motel. When Dylan pulled into a parking space, she got out of the car, retrieved her overnight bag and purse, and went to the door of her room. She opened it, but didn’t go in. The curtains were pulled and it was dark inside. A blast of cold air hit her.

Dylan followed her lead. His room was next door. As he opened his door, he flipped on the lights. “Cozy,” he said.

She glanced in his direction, and then turned the lights on in her room. “Yuck.” She saw him grin as he entered his room and closed the door.

She went inside. It was about as welcoming as the room in Brisbane
. Cookie cutter rooms. Only the bedspread is a different color. Monkey-vomit green.

The phone in the room rang loudly, startling her. She answered it, expecting it to be the motel office.

“Comfy?” Dylan sounded amused, as if he knew what she thought of the accommodations.

“Sorry. It’s the best I could do unless we drove all the way back to Philly.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve stayed in much worse.”

“I’m sure you have, but I haven’t.”

“Think of it as an opportunity to see how the other half lives. Perhaps we can make up for it by finding an enchanting dinner house. Shall we give it a try?”

“That sounds like a good idea. I didn’t bring any fancy clothes, though.”

“I’m shocked.”

Laurel laughed. “Give me half an hour. I want to freshen up and make a couple of calls.”

Forty-five minutes later, they were shown to a table in a restaurant called
Ellen’s Grotto.
The lighting was low, the tables were covered with white linen tablecloths, and the eating utensils were real silver. Laurel was certain of that. Heaven knew she’d seen enough of it at home.

“How did you find this place?” Dylan said after they were seated.

“I called Junior Chaber. I want to see him anyway, so I invited him to dinner. He suggested this place.”

Before Dylan could reply, Chaber came through the doorway and looked around. He waved as he spied Laurel. When he got to the table, he bent over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Great to see you, Laurel. And you too, Dylan.” Dylan shook his hand.

Chaber sat down just as a server approached the table and asked if anyone wanted a drink. He and Dylan both ordered scotch. Laurel ordered a Rob Roy and saw Dylan try to hide a smile.

“What brings you to our fair village?” Junior said.

“Old news,” Laurel said. She handed him the newspaper clipping. “I was wondering what you know about that.”

She watched Junior as he read it, but his expression never changed. When he finished reading, he gave it back to her and shook his head.

“Nothing. This is the first I’ve heard of it. I was only three. My parents wouldn’t have mentioned it to me. Why would you make a trip here for that?”

The drinks arrived. They clinked glasses and took a sip before Laurel replied.

“I was given that at Daddy’s funeral and found another one in his personal stuff. Just a little coincidental for my taste. I want to find out if he knew those people.”

“Why?” Junior regarded her keenly.

Laurel wasn’t about to say too much. She glanced at Dylan for help.

“Were you ever aware of any rumors about the company?” Dylan said.

Junior moved his hand dismissively, and Laurel wondered if he was making light of the question, or if it was a defensive gesture.

“Of course. Who hasn’t heard them? They’re unfounded. From what I understand, Bob Markham was the senior account for the company. The story goes that he brought a discrepancy in the books to my father’s attention. Dad had it checked out by an independent accounting firm and it turned out to be nothing.”

“That isn’t the rumor I’m asking about,” Dylan said.

There were a few moments of silence. Laurel could almost see Junior’s mind working, making an adjustment of some kind. Finally, he put his hands out as if to say he had nothing to hide.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, meeting Dylan’s gaze.

Their server came to the table. “Are we ready to order?”

“
We
haven’t looked at the menus, sorry.” Laurel disliked snooty waiters.

“Shall I give you a few more moments?”

“What’s good, Junior?” Dylan said.

“Pretty much everything. I’ll have the chicken cordon bleu,” he said without opening the menu.

Laurel and Dylan ordered the same, along with another round. The server left and Junior turned his attention to Dylan.

“What rumor?” Junior said, as if they hadn’t been interrupted.

“The one about illegal drugs and the Markham murders.”

Junior went pale.

“Oh,
that
rumor,” she said. “What about it, Junior? Any truth to it?”

“I told you, I know nothing.”

“The expression on your face says otherwise. I’d venture to guess that you’ve at least heard it. Maybe not when it happened, but when you got older. In a town this size, those things have a tendency to stay around, just out of sight, waiting for the right person to start asking questions.”

Junior gave a harsh laugh. “And you think you’re the right person?”

“Well, no one else has asked.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Markham did. He was an idiot who made false accusations. He confronted my father and threatened to call the DEA. His imagined discrepancy in the books gave him the idea that Chaber was hiding something. And that something was an illegal drug operation. The two things are so disparate, it seems Markham was delusional. Or bucking for a big raise. His mistake was that his assumptions were wrong, so he had no bargaining chips.”

“Then why was he murdered?” Laurel said.

Junior nearly choked on a swallow of his drink. “How the hell would I know? Are you insinuating one had something to do with the other? That my father had him killed? That makes no sense. Chaber was innocent of Markham’s accusations. Why would they kill him? That’s the first thing people would think.”

“Not if people didn’t know about the accusations,” Dylan said.

Their dinner came and Laurel took a bite, pronouncing it excellent. Dylan’s comment hung in the air as the three of them spent the next few minutes eating.