In the Shadows (The Outsiders Book 1) (21 page)

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Do you have any idea where the women might have gone? Please tell me, Simone.”

“I wish I did know, but I don’t. And neither does Maman.”

After he hung up the phone, Dave pounded his fist into the desk in his hotel room, sending shooting pains into his knuckles.
He couldn’t have imagined his day getting any worse, and yet it had. Kate Hill had told him she would help with the investigation, but the fact she knew about his past and about his knowing the suspect was unsettling as hell—and now this! He concluded that there wasn’t going to be any point in trying to sleep tonight.

He picked up the phone again and dialed.
“Hey, Greg. Did I wake you?”

“Na, I was watching the TV. Did you know they show topless women on TV here?”

Dave didn’t laugh. “I was wondering if you’d meet me downstairs in the bar. Something big has come up, and I could sure use a friendly ear.”

“Of course, buddy. That is, if you’re buying.”

Two hours and
three beers later, Greg said, “Sounds to me like you need to go back to France. I can stay here and continue working the case.”

“I can’t. From the way Simone talked, I’d probably be arrested if I showed up in Reynier
or Orleans.”

Greg took another swig of beer. “What if I went instead? You could stay here. I haven’t seen Maura or whatever you call her. I don’t have any real connection. I can poke around
and talk to your friend, Simone.”

“
Hmm, that’s not half-bad. What kind of cover story would you use?”

“I could say that I’m your old partner from the police force, which is true. I’m on vacation, traveling about Great Britain and Europe, and you invited me to visit you in your grandmother’s hometown before I left home.” 

He got up then and walked over to the bar, returning a couple minutes later with two more beers. “I could show up, expecting to find you and your grandmother. When they tell me that you’ve left, I can pretend that you must have forgotten about inviting me.”

“That
actually sounds plausible,” Dave said, taking a leisurely swallow of draft. “You’re pretty good at this.”

Greg laughed. “Yeah, scary, isn’t it?”
Both paused to think about this new proposal and down a couple more sips of their beer.

“I
think that could work, assuming that you can speak French,” Dave said. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“What’s to mind? I look at it this way—I get to travel, see France
, and meet this Simone that you’ve told me about. So we’re clear, she isn’t your girlfriend any more, right?”

Dave laughed
, seeing Simone turning her charm on Greg, and Greg dishing it right back at her.

“She’s all yours,
pal,” Dave said. “I can’t wait to find out how you two get along. You’ve gotta promise to keep me posted on your investigation and on your flirtation.”

Greg gave Dave a sly look. “And if I find Maura? Is she your girlfriend, or isn’t she?”

Dave hoped his friend was kidding, but not taking any chances, he said, “She is off-limits.”

Greg laughed. “I saw photos of her online. She’s pretty. I hope Simone is as pretty.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Simone is a former model.”

“Well, then, it
really sounds like a plan,” Greg said, laughing heartily. Raising their mugs, they toasted each other and their new plan. “I guess I better try to get a few hours’ sleep before I shove off. Can you give me details in the morning, say nine o’clock?”

“You bet,” Dave said, finishing off his beer.

“By the way,” Greg said as they reached the hotel’s staircase, “I do speak French, though admittedly I’ve never gotten a chance to use it for real. Studied it in high school and college. Obviously it’s been a while, but hopefully it’ll come back to me, at least enough to get by.”

Dave smiled and patted him on the back, “You’ll do fine.”
The two entered the hotel and the elevator to Greg’s floor, just below Dave’s. Before Greg stepped into the hallway, Dave said, “I don’t know what I would do without you, Greg. I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch much over the past few years.”

“Yeah, me too.
My fault too; I wasn’t any better keeping in touch. But at least now, we can catch up. Maybe you’ll even decide to come back to the police force after we’re done with all this.”

Dave nodded a
nd his friend disappeared down the corridor toward his room.

At breakfast, Dave
filled Greg in on everyone he would likely meet in Reynier, and then talked about his grandmother and her friends.

“Your grandmother sounds like a real character. I hope I get to meet her, though it doesn’t seem likely if what Simone said is true.”

“Simone is a bit calculating, but I don’t think she would lie about something that big, especially knowing I am already unhappy about what she did.”

“Yeah, it must have been difficult for her to tell you what happened. What about her brother?”

“Huh? She’s an only child.”

“Oh, I guess the guy was a cousin or something?”

“Paul.” Dave shrugged. “Yeah, he’s her cousin. I guess I’d call him a friend—we’ve known each other practically forever, but I don’t always like the guy. Quiet, somewhat lazy and moody, but a damn good artist. He could probably go places if he applied himself.” 

“Sounds like my brother and
my relationship with him. What about Simone’s mother? You said she went with Maura—I mean Maurelle.”

“Only as far as her sister’s house in Orleans. Supposedly, Maurelle stole Coralie’s car and took off with my grandmother and Jeannette.”

“Well, if she really is guilty of murder, she might be desperate enough to take hostages, and two elderly women would be easy targets.” As Dave gave him a look of protest, Greg held up his hand. “I’m just sayin’.”

Dave looked
down at his coffee mug. Greg was supposed to be supportive and at least try to be open-minded enough to consider Maurelle innocent. Apparently, he was more willing to believe in gossip—like most people. Perhaps sending him to Reynier was a bad move, but what else could he do?

After breakfast
, Dave walked with his friend to the Tube station.

“Good luck, buddy.” He patted Greg on the back, then shook his hand. “Call me when you can,
and give me updates.”

“Will do.” Greg smiled
, waved, and fed his train ticket into the automated slot. When the ticket popped back up and the gate banged open, Greg removed his ticket and passed through the gate.

As Greg disappeared, Dave again hoped he was doing the right thing sending him to France. Of course his decision meant that he would be working solely with Kate Hill.

Later that morning
at Kate’s house, Dave sat in her office drinking coffee while she read aloud from a document she’d obtained from a ‘source’, whom she wouldn’t name. The report began with the basics in information-gathering—the five W’s and one H, as they were known in journalism and police investigations: who is it about, what happened, when did it happen, where did it take place, why did it happen, and how did it happen? It was written in clear, simple English the way police reports were written.

“According to witnesses, when Maura broke up with Jared and moved out, he was devastated. He wouldn’t let go. He got into fights at school. Eventually the school’s governing board became involved. They placed Maura on suspension, pending an investigation and a hearing.” Kate paused, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “
People claimed they believe she killed Jared so that he wouldn’t be able to testify at the governing board’s hearing, and thus she wouldn’t lose her job.”

“
That’s all circumstance and hearsay,” Dave said.

“Yes, but it
is also logical. Several credible witnesses, including the head teacher at the school, said that Jared had confided in them.”

“Have you actually seen the case files?”

“No,” Kate said, “but I spoke with a detective on the case when I was working on my pieces for several newspapers.”

“
So far, I haven’t seen or heard any evidence that there really was a relationship between them. She says not.” He shook his head. “Is there any way that we can get a look at the evidence? Maybe we would pick up on something that was overlooked, especially since I’ve spoken with Maura.”

“Hmm.” She leaned back in her chair. “
Perhaps. Not the actual evidence, but I know people who might be able to get me copies of some of the paperwork about it. I’ve been in this business a long time and have quite a few friends who owe me favors.”

“
Thank you. That would be great.”

After s
he made three phone calls, they ate a light lunch together in her kitchen while they waited.

“Do you miss being a police officer?”

“Sometimes. But definitely not the politics. The investigation and finding the truth I miss.”

She nodded.

“
You already know quite a bit about me from your queries,” Dave said, “but what about you? Why did you go freelance?”

“I needed to write facts
. My bosses were more interested in opinion pieces even when they seemed to lack facts. I want people to think for themselves, draw their own conclusions.”

As they ate, they continued to chat about perspectives and the work that brought them to their current situations. About forty-five minutes from the first call, the phone rang
. The fax machine beeped and started printing.

They returned to her office. The fax machine was humming as it
continued to spit out paper. An itemized list of evidence collected at the scene was unsurprising. He had seen hundreds of files such as this in his career: fingerprints and hair strands collected from Jared’s room (including Maura’s, Jared’s parents, and the father’s girlfriend, Robin, none of which proved any of them were there on the night of the murder), unidentified clothing fibers, blood spatter evidence, two puncture wounds on the victim’s neck, etc.

Kate handed him copies of photographs, body diagrams, witness statements, and emails sent from Jared’s computer to Maura.

By the time he finished reading the medical examiner’s report, toxicology report, dental charts, and death certificate, Dave could see why Maura couldn’t necessarily be ruled out as a suspect, but didn’t find anything that actually pointed to her guilt.

Dave said
as much to Kate. “You know, there’s a ton of circumstantial evidence, but I still haven’t seen any proof, anything that makes me believe Maura is guilty of murder—or for that matter, even of having an affair with a pupil.”

“
I’m inclined to agree that there is no hard evidence, but short of having the crime on video, what evidence do you need? She did have access, motive, and she ran. The police have witnesses who are willing to testify against her.”

“But didn’t the investigators look at any other suspects? I didn’t find much of anything to suggest they even considered anyone else.”

“Who do you think they should consider?”

“
How about the parents? Or the father’s girlfriend, for instance?”

“They didn’t have motives. They did have alibis.”

“Greg and I spoke to some neighbors of the Raybournes. One in particular was helpful. He knows the family, he knows Maura and he thinks—”

“Who are we talking about? The old man across the street?”

Dave nodded.

“The
detectives I’ve talked to told me that old man doesn’t know anything, and they described him as senile. The detective said he told them nothing that could be verified and his story pretty much contradicts what everyone else said.”

“But
it is because he is old, is a busy body, stays at home and watches the neighborhood that he sees everyone who comes and goes in that house,” Dave said. “Also, Maura confided in him.”

“Did she tell you that? Did she suggest you talk to him?”

“She mentioned him. So did another neighbor, Brittany Stevas. Look, Ian Waitley told us that he believed Elizabeth was trying to win her husband back. He said Peter Raybourne had been spending a lot of time at the house before the murder. So, wouldn’t his girlfriend, Robin, have a motive as well?”

“If Elizabeth had been the victim,” Kate said, “then, yes, I might believe that. But what possible motive could Robin Sutcliffe have had to
kill her boyfriend’s son?”

Dave ran his hand through his hair and stared at the papers scattered over Kate’s desk.
“Okay, you got me there. But I’m sensing now that I may have been wrong about where you stand. I chose you to work with because I thought you were impartial, that you hadn’t made a judgment yet. If anything, from your article it seemed like you were on Maura’s side.”

“Then you misunderstood. I wrote the piece you read as journalism, to be different, to take a
counter view and get people to stop making assumptions. Surely you must know how it is.”

He slumped into his chair.
“I do. But now it seems to me like you are the one making assumptions, leaping to conclusions without solid facts.”

Kate opened her mouth to protest, but then apparently thought better of it
. After a few moments, she said, “All right, I concede that I may have made hasty conclusions about Maura’s guilt without sufficiently exploring other suspects.” She looked round at all the papers laid out. “I’m still interested – there might be a good story. Let’s proceed down that avenue and see if there are others with motive and opportunity. Can you tell me who, exactly, you think killed him?”

Dave sighed
. “Well, what if Robin Sutcliffe killed Jared because he was the bond threatening to bring Peter and Elizabeth back together?”

“That’s actually a possibility
I hadn’t thought about—unlikely, but I would be interested in talking with her and the parents with that in mind. This is all good human interest anyway, so I can pursue it. Any others you want to interview?”

Dave twisted his mouth as he contemplated. “Yes, I’d like to speak with Elizabeth
Raybourne’s sister and with Jared’s former girlfriend. I think her name is Penny Miller. I guess after that, I want to meet again with Ian Waitley.” 

“Why do you want to talk with
the crazy man again?”

Dave raised his eyebrows, puzzled. “Why do you call him crazy?
Have you even met him?”

Kate shrugged. “
No, I haven’t actually met him, but that’s what others have told me. Ah. Jumping to conclusions again, aren’t I. I guess we’ll only find out for ourselves by talking with him.”

Dave told Kate about the cover story he and Greg had given the neighbors with whom they’d already met.

“Yes, let’s stick with that,” she said. “We can add that I’m working on more articles. That should work fine.” She gazed at him for a moment. “There are stories here for me. I don’t mind the work. But maybe there is something more?”

“I can pay . . .
.”

“No, I don’t want money—well, it’s always pleasant, but I don’t want your money.”

“What then?”

“An exclusive interview with
Maura. And I get to write the story.”

Dave thought of Maura gazing at him and trusting. “Ok
ay,” he said. He decided not to tell Kate that right now he would have promised anything. He also decided not to tell her at that moment he had no idea where Maura was. “I will ask her and do my best to convince her. That’s all I can promise.”

An hour later
, Dave and Kate sat in the light blue waiting room outside Elizabeth Raybourne’s office in the Callowise Advertising Agency in Soho.

Finally, a woman
who was around Dave’s age and dressed in a stylish gray suit appeared. Her resemblance to Jared as he appeared in photographs was quite remarkable—same blue eyes, light blonde hair, and high cheekbones. Dave also thought of Simone. The woman’s face was made-up, and she looked attractive, and yet there was something about her that put Dave off. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“I’m Elizabeth
Raybourne,” she said.

Kate stood and extended her hand. “Kate Hill, freelance reporter. I spoke with you earlier. This is my associate, Dave Martin.”

Dave, who had also stood up, stepped forward and shook her hand. “Good to meet you.”

She looked at him but didn’t say anything.

Kate said, “Dave Martin is studying the differences in the investigative methods in the U.S. and U.K. for a book he’s writing.”

Elizabeth nodded, then looked directly at Kate. “Do you have some news? It’s been a while since any reporters have been round. I was beginning to think they’d given up on the case.
The police haven’t been in touch for a while either.” She hesitated. “It’s like no one really cares.”

“
I’m afraid nothing new to report, yet. If you don’t mind, though, we’d like to ask you a few questions about your son. This is all quite unofficial. Would you have a quiet place where we might chat with you?”

She pursed her lips
and motioned them toward her office. Once they were inside, she closed the door behind her.

“Please have a seat,” she said as she sat down stiffly behind her desk.

They had decided beforehand that Kate would do the questioning. Dave would take notes.

“First,” Kate said, “we would like to offer our condolences. It must be incredibly difficult for you, and we really do want to help find your son’s killer.”