Page 63 of Killer Honeymoon
“Last week, Lester handed me a manilla envelope to hold on to for safekeeping.”
“From whom?” Sawyer, Royce, and Chesterfield asked at once.
Leighton volleyed his gaze between the three men, seemingly unsure where to look or who to address. Royce and Sawyer exchanged a glance. They’d worked together enough to know what the other was thinking. They’d collectively agreed to let Chesterfield take the lead.
“Talk to me, Leigh,” the chief said. “I can’t help you if I don’t know the threats we’re facing.”
“I don’t know,” the mayor said. “I honestly don’t.” His defensive body language and shifty eyes said otherwise.
“I hope you’re better at playing poker than you are at lying,” Chesterfield remarked. Leighton stiffened, but the chief continued before he could feed him another line of bull. “Let’s try a different approach. Tell me what was in the envelope Moore gave you.”
“I don’t know,” Leighton said. He’d been less shifty, but it was painfully obvious he was lying. Why? Whose ass was he trying to save?
“What reason did Lester give you for requesting the favor?” Royce asked.
“He just said he was nervous he’d crossed the wrong person. Lester said if something happened to him, I was to give the envelope to the police.”
“Yet you didn’t hand it over after learning of his death,” the chief pointed out. “You know that makes you look guilty, right?”
“What?” the mayor asked. “You think I killed Lester and Todd?”
“Did you?” Chesterfield asked.
“No. God no.”
“Then tell me what was inside the envelope,” the chief countered.
Leighton shook his head like an unruly toddler. “I told you. I don’t know. Probably just legal papers like his will and stuff.”
“Nah,” Sawyer said. “A successful man like Lester Moore would have pricey attorneys to handle his estate, not a small village mayor on an obscure island. And you said he instructed you to deliver the envelope to the police if something happened to him. What would the chief need with his will or legal documents?”
“What was in the envelope, Leighton?” the chief asked once more.
“I said I don’t know,” the mayor said tersely.
Chesterfield held the man’s gaze for an awkward stretch before pushing his chair back and standing up. “I’ll ask Lowell to take you to Estelle’s bed and breakfast. He said she had an empty room right now.”
“Wait,” Leighton said, staring up at Chesterfield with a horrified face. “You can’t just turn me loose on the street?”
“Why? You claim you haven’t killed anyone, and I have no evidence to suggest otherwise. I have no reason to hold you here.”
“But you said I could be in danger,” Leighton countered.
Chesterfield crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would you be? You claim not to know anything.”
“Buthedoesn’t know that,” Leighton protested.
“Who is he?” Royce asked. “Gary?”
Leighton paled and looked at the chief with pleading eyes. “You gotta keep me safe if I tell you what I know.”
“Safe right now means a jail cell,” Chesterfield replied.
“Sold,” Leighton said. He closed his eyes, crossed his arms over his abdomen, and started to rock back and forth. The mayor’s lips moved as if he were reciting a silent prayer. After a few moments, Leighton stopped rocking and opened his eyes. “I’m signing my death warrant by talking.” Royce thought he’d changed his mind, but the mayor surprised him. “I resisted opening the envelope for a few days before curiosity got the better of me. When Lester decided to work with Gary, he ran a background check on the man like any astute businessman would. He found a guy whose existence hadn’t begun until a few months before he arrived on the island five years ago. That was a huge red flag, of course, so Lester decided to dig deeper. He had Todd collect Gary’s scotch glass one night after poker. They bagged it up and sent it off to someone Lester knew who could privately run the fingerprints.”
Royce fought the urge to lean closer. He glanced at his husband and noted Sawyer was equally riveted. None of them spoke a single word to interrupt Leighton. Royce wouldn’t be surprised if they were collectively holding their breaths.
“Gary Redmon is actually Robert Sigonella, but he’s better known as Bobby Vegas.”