CHAPTER 61

THE COUNTRY CLUB was quiet and though the evening wasn't chilly a fire crackled in the large stone-faced fireplace in the main restaurant. Sean and Michelle sat on one side of the table while Bobby and June Battle, a wisp of a woman in her early eighties, with snowy hair cut severely short, sat on the other side of them.

They had just ordered their food.

Michelle fired the first shot. "I'm glad you talked to Nancy Drummond. Because we really need your help."

Instead of answering, June methodically swallowed a number of pills she had placed on the table, using a big glass of water to wash them down.

Perhaps sensing Michelle's growing impatience, Sean slipped a hand under the table and squeezed her thigh and slightly shook his head.

June finished off the last pill and looked up at them. "I hate medicine, but it's apparently the only thing keeping me alive, so there you go."

"So you were walking your dog down the street where the Maxwells live on the night Sally Maxwell was killed?" said Sean encouragingly.

"Didn't know she was killed then," said June matter-of-factly. "Just walking Cedric. He's my dog. Pekinese. Little dog. Used to have a big dog, but can't handle big anymore. But he's a good dog. Cedric was my older brother. Dead now. I liked him better than my other siblings so I named my dog after him."

Michelle loudly cleared her throat and Sean's grip on her leg increased in pressure.

Bobby said, "So I told my sister here that you'd talk to her only."

"Don't like police." She patted Bobby's hand. "Don't get me wrong. I know we need police and all. But what I meant was that when the police are around, something bad happened."

"Like my mother being murdered?" said Michelle, looking dead at June.

The little woman finally settled her gaze on her. "I'm sorry about your loss, child. I've lost two of my children and one grandchild, but to illness, not crime."

"You saw something that night?" said Sean.

"A man."

Sean and Michelle both hunched forward at the same time, as though connected by rope.

"Can you describe him?" asked Michelle.

"It was dark, and my eyes aren't as good as they used to be, but I can tell you he was tall and he wasn't fat or anything. He didn't have a coat on, just pants and a sweater."

"Old, young?"

"Older. I think he had gray hair but I couldn't be sure. I remember it was a warm night and I was surprised he even had a sweater on."

"And in fact a pool party was going on next door," said Sean.

"Don't know about that but there were lots of cars parked up and down the road."

"What time was this?"

"Always start my walk at eight o'clock. Always get to that point at about eight-twenty unless Cedric poops and I have to pick it up, but he didn't. Poop I mean."

"So eight-twenty," said Sean.

He, Michelle, and Bobby exchanged glances.

"The ME puts time of death at between eight and nine," Bobby reminded them.

"Which puts our guy there right in the sweet spot," Michelle commented.

"Sweet spot?" said June, looking quizzically at her.

"Window of opportunity," explained Sean. "So the guy was there. What was he doing?"

"Walking, walking away from me. I'm not sure he even saw me. The street was pretty dark. I bring a flashlight with me but I hadn't turned it on because the moon was out and Cedric and I walk very slowly. We both have arthritis."

"So he was walking away from you. Did you see anything else? Like where he came from?" prompted Michelle.

"Well, it appeared to me that he came out from between two houses. The one with all the cars parked out front and the one next to it on the right."

"My parents' house," said Michelle.

"I guess so, only I didn't know them."

"What else?" asked Sean.

"Well, that was the strange thing," began June.

"Strange?" said Bobby.

"Yes. I was on the other side of the street from him, but I could still see it."

"See what?" Michelle asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Oh, that's right, I didn't say. It was the flashes."

"The flashes?" said Sean and Michelle together.

"Yes. The man was walking up the street, but he was stopping at each of the parked cars. Then he would raise his hand and a little flash would appear."

"Was he next to each car when he did this, in front, in back?" asked Michelle.

"In back, and he bent over a little bit each time. Like I said, he was tall."

Michelle looked at Sean. "He was photographing the license plates of the cars."

"The flash was from the camera," added Sean while Bobby nodded.

"And he did this at each car?" asked Michelle.

June nodded. "Looked to be that way."

"Why would our perp be taking pictures?" wondered Bobby.

June's face brightened. "Perp? I've heard the word before. I watch Law amp; Order religiously. I loved Jerry Orbach, God rest his soul. And that Sam Waterston. He played Lincoln, you know."

"Did you see anything else?" asked Michelle. "Like where the guy went?"

"Oh, yes. He finished with the cars and then he walked back toward me, but on the other side of the street. He looked around, probably to make sure no one was watching. I doubt he saw me and Cedric. There're some large bushes where we were and I was standing sort of behind them, because Cedric was peeing and he gets embarrassed if people see him using the facilities. Then he turned up the driveway and went inside the house."

Michelle looked bewildered. "House? Which house?"

"The house next to the one where the cars were parked. He went right in the front door."

Michelle, Bobby, and Sean all looked at one another.

The tall older man taking pictures had to be Frank Maxwell.

CHAPTER 62

AFTER THEY FINISHED dinner they needed to take June Battle to the police station to make a formal statement.

"You two take her," said Michelle.

"What?" Sean looked at her in surprise.

"I just need a little time alone, Sean," she said. "I'll meet you back at my dad's house."

"Michelle, I don't like splitting up with you."

"I can take care of Mrs. Battle," said Bobby. "No sweat."

"Sean, just go. I'll see you back at Dad's."

"You sure?"

She nodded. "Real sure."

As the three left Sean glanced back at her, but Michelle wasn't looking at him.

She sat at the table for ten minutes before slowly rising, opening up her jacket, and looking down at the Sig on her belt holster.

He had to know that his wife was lying dead inside the garage. And he was outside taking photos of car plates? What a callous bastard. What had he been doing? Looking to frame somebody for the murder he'd committed? He could easily have hit her mother from the left instead of the right to throw off the cops. Her father was a strong man. Either way Sally Maxwell would've been dead.

And he was out there somewhere. Her father was out there, and he had a gun.

She got up and walked with a purpose toward the exit. On the way she passed the trophy case for the golf club. She barely glanced at it but one glance was all it took. Her head snapped back around and she hurried over to the glass case. It was full of shiny hardware, plaques, photos, and other awards paraphernalia. Two items interested her deeply and she didn't even play golf.

She bent low and drew close.

The first one was a photo of three women, with the one in the middle holding up a huge trophy. Donna Rothwell was smiling broadly. Michelle glanced down at the inscription on the bottom of the plaque.

"Donna Rothwell, Club Amateur Champion," she read. It was for this year. They had her scores posted for the tournament on a laminated card next to the photo. Michelle didn't know that much about golf, but even she knew those scores were impressive.