Seed No Evil (26 page)

“Are you certain no other calls came in while you were with Justin?” Marco asked.

“I'm certain.”

“Do you know whether Justin turned off his phone while you were together?” I asked.

“Justin never turns off his phone,” she said, “for business reasons.”

Marco glanced at me to see if I had any other questions. When I shook my head, he said to Susan, “I know this has been difficult, but thank you for talking to us.”

She gripped his wrist, looking him straight in the eye. “You promise this won't go any farther?”

“I never go back on my word,” Marco said.

•   •   •

“At least we know now why Justin lied about his whereabouts at the time of the murder,” I said, as we drove back to town.

“We need to see Stacy Shaw again,” Marco said. “Can you be available at four forty-five today?”

“Sure. What are you thinking?”

Marco checked the rearview mirror, then moved into the other lane. “Neither of Kyle's parents knew where he was at five o'clock last Monday, and that concerned Stacy enough to call the man she despises. I don't want to speculate what it means at this point, but that kid is the key to solving this case, Abby. I can feel it.”

“Shouldn't we confront Kyle before we see his mom?”

“It'll take too long to set up another meeting with Tara.” He made a turn onto Franklin and headed toward the public parking lot. “Is that your stomach growling?”

“I haven't had lunch.”

“Want to grab a sandwich to go at the bar?”

“Sure. Speaking of food, do we have plans for dinner tonight, now that your mom's meal got canceled?”

Marco turned into the lot and drove slowly up the aisle, which was jammed with cars. “I may have to drop you off at the shop and drive around the block.”

“Marco? Dinner?”

“Here's a spot.” He pulled in and turned off the motor, then gave me a sheepish look. “I have to work again tonight, Sunshine. I'm sorry. I'll have this job wrapped up by Saturday, though, and then I promise I'll cut back, okay?”

Did I have a choice?

•   •   •

“Here's my strategy,” Marco said, on our way to the animal shelter late that afternoon. He was wearing a gray sport coat, black T-shirt, and jeans, making him look professional and so yummily masculine. “I want to make Stacy believe that we're looking at Kyle as a serious suspect. If she's any kind of mother at all, and as protective as she's come across in her past interviews, she'll do whatever she can to change our minds.” He put on his signal and changed lanes. “How she'll do it is the question.”

“What do you mean? That things could get dangerous? Should we have Reilly on alert for backup?”

“I doubt there'll be any danger, Sunshine. Remember how the murder was committed.”

“But we don't know how Bev was forced into the exercise pen, Marco. There could have been a weapon involved.”

“Abby,” he said, taking my hand, “I wouldn't bring you into any situation where there was a possibility of danger without being prepared for it.”

I glanced at him in surprise. He was armed! “Beneath your sport coat?” I asked.

“Do you really want to know?”

Good point. I had a bad habit of staring where I shouldn't. “So we make Stacy believe that we think Kyle killed his aunt, and she tries to convince us otherwise. Does that include offering herself up as the killer?”

“Exactly.”

“But what if she
is
the killer?”

Marco lifted one eyebrow. “Exactly.”

•   •   •

We walked into the shelter at five minutes before five p.m., producing scowls from the Friendly Sisters. “It's closing time,” one of them stated, arms folded across her bosom.

“We'd like to see Stacy,” I said.

“It's
closing
time,” the other one said, as if we hadn't heard correctly.

At a rapid clicking of heels on tile, I glanced around just as Stacy walked out of the hallway. “You two go home,” she said to the women in a no-nonsense voice. “I'll handle this. Would one of you call my son and tell him I've been delayed?”

She was wearing a skintight bright pink pencil skirt and a black blouse, with black heels and humongous black-and-gold earrings that dangled to her shoulders. She turned sharply and started back the way she'd come, snapping out, “Follow me.”

Once in her office, she took a seat behind her desk and crossed one leg, sitting upright and tense. I sat down opposite her as Marco started to close the door.

“Leave it open,” she said curtly.

Marco opened it all the way, then sat down in the chair next to mine. “I know our timing is bad,” he said, “but we've come across some new information that we need to run past you.”

“And what would that be?” Her tone was heavily sarcastic.

“For one thing,” Marco said, “we learned that your son was responsible for bringing the red-zone dogs to this shelter.”

She threw a pen into her desk drawer and slammed it shut. “That's ludicrous. A boy who's highly allergic to dogs isn't going to go near two large, dangerous animals, let alone bring them here.”

“It's not ludicrous at all,” Marco said. “They were his dad's dogs and about to be put down. Knowing how softhearted your son is, I'm sure he was extremely upset when he learned of their fate.”

Obviously caught off guard, she asked in surprise, “They were Justin's dogs?”

Finally, something I could answer! “Yes, they were.”

It took her a few seconds to compose herself; then she asked angrily, “How do you know my son is softhearted?”

Obviously, Kyle hadn't told Stacy of our interview. “My niece, Tara, is a friend of Kyle's.”

“And she claims Kyle rescued those dogs?” Stacy asked.

“She has no reason to make something like that up,” I said.

“Well, so what?” she said, swinging her foot furiously. “I don't see why you had to come all the way down here to tell me my son rescued two dogs.”

“The same dogs that attacked your sister,” Marco reminded her. “That says to me that your son wasn't afraid of them.”

Folding her arms tightly over her black blouse, she said, “Where is this conversation going?”

“You know where it's going,” Marco said. “And
we
know that neither you nor Justin could reach Kyle by phone on Monday afternoon after five p.m.”

“Not true!” she cried. “He was in the backyard. He sits out there after school with his laptop doing homework. He just didn't return his dad's call, that's all.”

“Did he return your call?” Marco asked.

“Yes, of course he did.”

“The detectives will want to see your cell phone to verify that,” Marco said.

“Then why haven't they asked for it?” she retorted, rising. “It's time for you to leave.”

Marco made no move to get up. Instead, he said calmly, “Why are you being so defensive?”

“Because I know what you're trying to do.” Stacy picked up her purse and put the strap on her shoulder. “You're trying to make it look like my son was responsible for those dogs attacking my sister.”

“Can you prove he didn't?” Marco asked.

“He was at home!” she shouted, turning red in the face.

“Give us some proof and we'll go away,” Marco said. “Otherwise, we'll contact the detectives with this new information and let them take over the questioning. I promise you, it won't go easy for Kyle.”

Stacy turned her back on us, her arms folded so tightly across her chest it looked like she was giving herself a hug. “I came home and found him in the yard.
That's
how I know where he was.”

“What time?” Marco asked, as I slid out the notebook and pen.

“Six thirty, six forty.”

“You told us previously that you went to the mall between leaving work and going to the meeting,” I said.

She turned to face us, her features set defiantly. “I
did
go to the mall. I just stopped at home afterward to make sure Kyle was all right. He's been having a lot of asthma attacks lately.” She shrugged. “I worry about him, that's all.”

“Wouldn't he know to call you if he was having trouble?” I asked.

“You obviously don't know how teens are,” she said. “They think they can handle everything.”

Redheads were known for that, too. “What condition was he in?” I asked.

“He was wheezing. His allergies were bad that day.”

“What was his excuse for not calling you back?” Marco asked.

“He didn't have his phone with him. He left it in the house.”

“The way teens are connected to their phones,” I said, “that's a little hard to swallow.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, giving me a glare.

“We'll need to verify all this with Kyle,” Marco said, “without you present.”

“I've already told you that's not going to happen.”

“Stacy,” Marco said, “we know you're covering for him.”

“I'm not
covering
for my son. There's nothing to cover. He's a kid, for God's sake. Leave him alone.”

“I'm not going to debate it with you,” Marco said, “so here's what you need to know. Of everyone who had the means, motive, and opportunity to kill your sister, only you and Kyle have yet to offer proof of your alibis. Give me that proof, and I'll be more than happy to take you off the suspect list.”

“What about Maureen Knight?” Stacy demanded. “How can she prove she had nothing to do with my sister's death?”

“Simply put, she had no motive,” Marco said.

“Neither do I,” Stacy cried. “And absolutely neither does Kyle. How dare you accuse either one of us! I told you I loved my sister. I was devastated by her death. And Kyle didn't even know Bev very well. What on earth would make you think a young boy could be capable of something that horrendous?”

“Stacy,” I said, “I made it clear the last time we spoke that Marco and I know Bev forced you to be her spokeswoman for changing the shelter's no-kill policy. We also know that Kyle was aware that his aunt was behind it and hated her for that.”

“How do you know that?” she cried. “From your niece? Is she your expert witness?”

“Stacy, you have to know that Tara and Kyle are close friends,” I said. “She's been working with Kyle to find a home for another dog he rescued.”

“Kyle can't even come inside the shelter because of his allergies,” she retorted. “Besides, he couldn't have gotten in even if he'd wanted to. I have the key.”

“Stacy,” Marco said, leaning back, “you're too organized not to keep a spare set of keys at the house.”

She pressed her hands to the sides of her head, as though it might explode. “I don't believe this is happening.”

“Then make it go away,” Marco said. “Let's talk to Kyle and get some understanding of how it happened.”

“You still think my son—?” She paced behind her desk, still holding her head.

“I think your son came down to the shelter to change his aunt's mind,” I said.

“Things went badly,” Marco said. “He reacted as a young teen might—with anger and without a clear understanding of what he was doing.”

“This is my sister's fault,” Stacy muttered, still pacing. “She brought this upon me. She's the one who's responsible, hateful, hateful bitch that she was. You want to know what happened? I'll tell you what happened.
I
was the one who tried to change her mind. And you're right. She
made
me go along with her idea to change the shelter's no-kill policy. And then she forced me to promote it as my idea!

“Do you see how hateful she was?” Stacy asked, tears rolling down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. “Can you blame me for wanting to stop her?
I
released those dogs. Me! I couldn't take her bullying any longer. But I never wanted her to die. I only wanted to scare her.” She collapsed onto her chair and put her face in her hands, crying hard.

“We're going to have to notify the police,” Marco said, “so you can give them a statement.”

“Fine!” she shouted. “Just do it. I can't take this any longer.”

“Just one question,” Marco said. “How did Bev end up inside the fence?”

“What does it matter?” she cried. “I did it, okay? I. Did. It!”

“No, Mom, stop it!” came a distraught cry from behind us.

“Kyle!” Stacy cried, looking toward the door.

I swiveled in my chair and saw him standing in the doorway with a gun in his hands. Visibly shaking, he pointed it at Marco. “Leave my mom alone!”

“Kyle,” Stacy said, her voice shaking, “put the gun down! You don't know what you're doing.”

“Where did you get the weapon, son?” Marco asked, easing out of the chair.

“It's mine,” Stacy said, also rising. “He took it from my closet.” She held out her hand as she approached him slowly. “Kyle, please give it to me.”

Kyle took a step back but kept the gun pointed at Marco. “She didn't do anything wrong!”

“Kyle!” Stacy shouted. “Listen to me. Stop talking and put the gun down. Everything's going to be fine if you do what I say.”

“Shut up!” he bellowed, his voice cracking, making Stacy draw back. “You're not going to talk to the police, Mom. You know you didn't do anything wrong.”

“Son,” Marco said, raising his hands in the air as he took a slight step toward the boy's left, “your mom explained everything. It's okay. We know what happened.”

“No, you don't!” he shrieked, tears rolling down his face. “Stop saying she did it or I'll shoot this. I swear I will!”

“Kyle,” Stacy said, trying to hold back sobs, “you can't protect me. Let me handle this, please.”