Page 61 of Killer Honeymoon
“Hey, Junior,” Cecily said when she reached the table.
“Uh, h-hey,” Lowell stammered. His cheeks pinkened, and Royce couldn’t tell if he was flushed because he was interested in Cecily or from the stress of the evening.
Sawyer and Royce exchanged a discreet glance. Was this the same Junior who leaked all the juicy cop gossip to Estelle? The adage about it being a small world rolled through Royce’s mind. It had been one of Aunt Tipsy’s favorite sayings. But this island, a world unto itself, was tiny, so it was more than probable that this Junior and Estelle’s Junior were one and the same. Royce debated for a moment on whether he should say something to Lowell about his habit. If the young guy wanted a long-term career in law enforcement, Lowell would need to button it up.
Royce leaned closer to Sawyer as they followed Lowell and whispered, “I call shotgun.”
Lowell’s cruiser stopped in front of a stately white manor where every light in the house was turned on, reminding Royce of the homes in a Christmas village display. Yellow crime scene tape stretched across the porch railing instead of holiday lights or wreaths, making the glow spilling onto the well-manicured lawn more macabre than merry. It also made the shadows and recesses darker and more sinister.
“Whose house is this?” Royce asked.
“Mayor Massie’s,” Lowell replied. “He’s not the victim, though.”
The trio stepped out of the squad car and headed up the sidewalk. Royce looked over and saw the profile of a man sitting in the back of a different cruiser. His head was bent forward and appeared to be resting in his hands.
“Is that Leighton Massie in the back of the squad car?” Royce asked. As if sensing his attention, the man lifted his head and looked in their direction. The light from the house cast an eerie spotlight on the man’s features, and there was no mistaking the misery and disbelief etched on his face.
“Yeah,” Lowell said. “He’s a mess and justifiably so.” The young officer stopped a few feet from the porch, forcing them to do the same. “I, um, have never seen anything like this crime scene. I-I hope I never see anything l-like it again.”
“Take a deep breath,” Sawyer said. “Let it out slowly.”
Lowell nodded and followed Sawyer’s instructions.
“Accidental deaths are sad enough, but homicides are brutal,” Royce said. “There’s no shame in being rattled by the awful things humans do to one another. It doesn’t make you less of an officer.”
“Thank you,” Lowell said. “I didn’t take formal training at an academy. Maybe it would’ve prepared me better.”
Royce saw an opening to weave in a chat about conduct and took it. Maybe he was born to instruct after all. “Look, you might need to talk to someone about what you’ve witnessed tonight, but it should be with a professional trained in dealing with this type of trauma who has an obligation not to reveal details of the crimes. The last thing you should do is talk to a civilian. It is unprofessional, and you could also jeopardize the investigation and any trial that results from it.”
Lowell nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah, okay.”
“If you need help, talk to your chief,” Sawyer said. “He seems like a standup guy.”
“Speaking of,” Royce said as Chesterfield jogged down the steps and strode toward them.
“Thanks for coming,” the chief said. “Leighton came home about thirty minutes ago and found the victim sprawled on the floor of his office.” Royce suspected it was either Gary or Todd since the mayor was alive, but he kept quiet and let the chief talk. “And his home safe had been blasted open and emptied.”
“As in explosives?” Royce asked, no longer able to keep his mouth shut.
“Either a small explosive charge of some kind or the shotgun used to kill Todd Browning.” And they had one question answered.
“What was Todd doing in the mayor’s house?” Sawyer asked.
Whoever had killed the captain, and Royce had a pretty good idea who, also cleaned out the safe.
“Leighton was rattled when he called me,” Chesterfield said. “I couldn’t get too many coherent words out of him. I’m hoping to get more answers.”
“I think we can help fill in some of the blanks after visiting Hooligan’s,” Sawyer said.
“If we can find out what’s missing from the mayor’s safe, we might be able to figure out the motive for these murders,” Royce added.
Chesterfield ran a hand through his hair. “I’m out of my depth here.” It was probably a blow to his pride to admit it, but that only made Royce respect him more. “The state police are sending investigators to assist me tomorrow. I’ll seal up the house once the coroner is finished and keep officers posted outside to make sure no one tampers with the crime scene.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I looked you guys up after we spoke earlier today. To say your careers are impressive is a massive understatement. I’d appreciate it if you’d assist me during the interview with the mayor. Everything seems to tie back to the poker buddies, and Gary is the only one still unaccounted for.”
“You weren’t able to track him down today?” Royce asked.
“No. His assistant, Samira, hasn’t been able to get in touch with him. Let me tell you, if Gary doesn’t already have a target on his back, he will if Samira finds him first.”
“I don’t think Gary is a victim, Chief,” Sawyer said. “I think he’s your prime suspect. We found out Todd didn’t leave the island before the storm hit, and Gary is the last known person to be with Todd.” There could’ve been others, but the odds weren’t great.