Fatal Mercy Dan Padavona (reading cloud ebooks .txt) 📖

the desk, Middleton pounded a fist on the table. “Don’t believe me? Ask Father Fowler. He saw the altercation and will tell you Lincoln Ramsey was out of his mind.”

“Two winters ago, someone tossed a brick through Lincoln Ramsey’s window.”

Middleton’s grin displayed his teeth.

“I heard about that. Lincoln and his bitch wife got what was coming to them.”

“How’s that, Mr. Middleton?”

“You think I’m the only person Lincoln Ramsey cheated out of a loan? Half the village wanted that prick dead.”

Aguilar’s eyes hardened.

“Is that what you wanted, Mr. Middleton? You wanted that prick, as you call him, dead?”

The smile fell from Middleton’s face. He pointed at Aguilar.

“Don’t put words in my mouth. Lincoln Ramsey and I had our problems. But I moved on. If he burned more bridges, and the smoke blew back in his face, that was his fault.”

“Where were you Sunday night between the hours of eight and ten o’clock?”

“Why?”

“Answer the question, Mr. Middleton.”

He narrowed his eyes. After a moment of thought, he slapped the table.

“I see what this is about. That’s when the prick died. Yeah, I read his obituary.” When the deputies didn’t respond, Middleton shook his head. “I was home, watching a movie.”

“Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?”

“I’m divorced.”

“So that’s a no?”

“Look, I didn’t kill Lincoln Ramsey. Besides, didn’t the newspapers say he died from emphysema or COPD?”

“Lincoln Ramsey suffered from COPD,” Aguilar said.

“Then that’s what killed him.”

“Perhaps.”

Middleton checked his watch.

“Well, your time is up, deputies.”

“Just a moment, Mr. Middleton,” Thomas said, scanning his notes as Middleton released a frustrated breath. “Where were you Tuesday evening between six and eight o’clock?”

“Tuesday? I thought the newspaper said Ramsey died Sunday evening.”

“You’re friends with Garrick Tillery.”

The man moved his eyes from Aguilar to Thomas.

“What’s this about?”

“Garrick Tillery fished at the river Tuesday evening. Around the same time, Cecilia Bond’s body ended up dead in the water. Did you accompany your friend, Mr. Tillery, to the river?”

“This interview is done. You’ll direct future questions through my lawyer.”

Middleton stormed from the office.

“Where are you going?” Aguilar asked when Thomas stood.

“To make a phone call.”

At his desk, Thomas scrolled through his internet browser and located the phone number for St. Mary’s church.

“St. Mary’s church. How may I help you?” the woman asked.

“Father Fowler, if he’s in.”

“May I tell him who’s calling?”

“Deputy Shepherd from the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department.”

Five seconds of silence followed.

“Please hold.”

Thomas sifted through Carl Middleton’s statement while he waited. Fowler answered his call a minute later.

“Deputy Shepherd, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“Forgive me for bringing this up now. I need information about an altercation you witnessed between Carl Middleton and Lincoln Ramsey.”

“Is that why you called, Deputy Shepherd. Is this an interrogation?”

A chuckle escaped Fowler’s throat and broke the tension.

“I understand Middleton rammed his truck into Ramsey’s bumper on the way out of your parking lot.”

“Yes, and an argument ensued. An ugly moment for all of us. It seems awfully late for either party to press charges over a fender bender.”

“Carl Middleton claims Lincoln Ramsey turned belligerent.”

“That’s not the way I remember it,” Fowler said, lowering his voice. “Mr. Middleton threatened Mr. Ramsey. Had I not intervened, I shudder to imagine how far he might have gone.”

“So Carl Middleton lied about Lincoln Ramsey causing the fight.”

“Mr. Middleton is to blame. And for that reason, he’s no longer welcome inside my church.”

“Yet God forgives all.”

Fowler cleared his throat.

“God does. But I do not.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Friday, July 17th

11:50 a.m.

 

“You’re quiet today.”

Raven glanced around her monitor at Chelsey, who clicked her mouse and released frustrated groans every few minutes.

“Just trying to catch up. I wasted yesterday afternoon and evening chasing after Damian Ramos.”

Raven sipped from her water bottle and set it on the desk. She’d offered to follow Damian. But Chelsey insisted.

“What did you learn?”

“Nothing. Damian didn’t show up at the gym, and his car wasn’t at his house. I backtracked to the trading firm in Syracuse, cruised past Ellie Fisher’s apartment, and gave up after sunset. Something tells me he’s on to us and gave me the slip.”

“So what did you do with the rest of your night?”

Chelsey narrowed her eyes.

“Nothing. Why are you so interested in what I do after work?”

Raven swallowed an argument. When Chelsey came into work in a difficult mood, there was no chance of knocking her out of it. It was clear what this was about.

“You could have come to the party. Everyone asked about you.”

“Like I said, I spent the day searching for Damian Ramos. I don’t have time for parties and cake, and whatever else.”

“First, we ate sweet potato pie for dessert, and it rocked. Second, if you want to avoid people and sulk because you’re alone—”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You kinda are.”

The door opened and Chelsey pulled her mouth tight.

“We can’t take on another client. I’m swamped.”

“I’ll see who it is.”

“No, I’ll get the door. You keep doing…whatever it is you’re doing.”

Raven tugged her braid and promised herself she wouldn’t smack the attitude out of Chelsey’s mouth after the visitor left. She eyed the clock. Almost noon. Today was the perfect day to drive home and eat lunch with her mother. Either that or spy on Damian at the trading firm. Anything sounded better than spending another hour in the office.

When Chelsey returned, she folded her arms and said, “You have a visitor.”

Darren Holt followed Chelsey into the office. He wore blue jeans and a navy blue Syracuse PD t-shirt that showed off his arms. He held a paper bag in his hand, and Raven whiffed lettuce and onions.

“Darren, what are you doing here?”

“Hope you don’t mind. I was driving through the village and thought you might want lunch.”

He brought her lunch? A flutter moved through her heart. Across the room, Chelsey hid behind her computer and typed far too hard on the keyboard.

“Wow. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yesterday, you mentioned getting together for lunch sometime, so I figured today was as good a day as any.”

“That’s very thoughtful.” She reached for her wallet. “How much did it come to?”

“Put your