Page 45 of Killer Honeymoon
Chesterfield and Frank engaged in a silent stare down. The chief blinked first. “I’d like to have a private word with you.”
“We’ll just be going,” Clint said. The ladies made token protests but eventually followed him back to their rental.
Chesterfield raked his gaze over Royce first, then Sawyer. He must’ve found them lacking because he gave a derisive sniff and said, “You can run along too.”
Sawyer inched closer to Frank and said, “I don’t think so.”
“Who the hell are you?” Chesterfield asked.
“He’s his attorney,” Officer Lowell replied.
Chesterfield turned his dark scowl on Royce. “And you are?”
“His husband,” Royce replied with a head tilt in Sawyer’s direction.
Not a flicker of emotion showed on Chesterfield’s face. He either didn’t care or was a good actor. Royce only cared about why the chief was there in the first place. Chesterfield refocused his attention on Frank, and Royce realized they were about to find out.
“The Coast Guard found Lester Moore’s boat adrift in Lake Erie,” Chesterfield said. “The mooring rope had been sliced clean through during the storm.”
“For crying out loud,” Frank said. “I didn’t vandalize his boat, and I didn’t sabotage the line either.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” the chief said. “Several witnesses overheard or saw you arguing with Lester Moore yesterday afternoon before the storm arrived.”
“Yes,” Frank said. “I confronted him about the accusations he’d made about me.”
“What time would you say that was?” Chesterfield asked.
“About three o’clock,” Frank replied.
“Can you account for your time between then and say ten o’clock this morning?”
Royce’s suspicion grew, and a glance at Sawyer said Chesterfield’s line of questioning had tingled his spidey senses too.
“Don’t answer that,” Sawyer instructed Frank.
Chesterfield narrowed his eyes. “If your client has nothing to hide—”
Sawyer cut him off with a wave. “Save it, Chief. I’ve heard that line hundreds of times, and we’re not falling for it.”
Royce bit his lip to keep from smiling. Sawyer had been guilty of using the same line when trying to get a perp to talk during an interrogation. “What’s significant about ten o’clock this morning?” Royce asked.
“Because that’s when the Coast Guard boarded the drifting boat and found Lester Moore dead.”
“A result of the storm or foul play?” Sawyer asked.
The chief pulled his attention from Frank to home in on Sawyer. “He died from a point-blank gunshot wound to the head.” He looked at Frank once more. “Again, I’m going to ask where you were from three o’clock yesterday afternoon until ten this morning.”
“I don’t…I can’t…” Frank gasped and staggered backward a few steps, clutching his chest. Both Sawyer and Royce reached out to steady him. Christ, the older man had survived deliberate attempts to drive him beyond the brink of sanity, but Royce worried a few careless words from the chief might do Frank in.
“Frank,” Chrissy called out as she crossed the yard again. “Are you okay? Are you having chest pain?”
“Go back across the yard, miss,” Chesterfield said.
“I will not,” Chrissy replied firmly. “I’m a nurse, and this man looks like he’s having a cardiac emergency.”
“I’m fine,” Frank gasped. “Just shocked is all. Maybe we can sit down and continue the conversation.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Chesterfield said. “You can take a seat in the back of the squad car, and we’ll continue this conversation at the station. Cuff him, Lowell.”