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Authors: Shirlee McCoy
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Kensington that will give us something to work with.”
“She’s not on their radar. Aside from the prints that were filed when she applied to teach, there’s no trace of her in the system.” Douglas dusted the first windowsill, picked up a set of smudged prints and moved to the next window.
“Call Boston again in the morning. We need more information, and we need it quickly. A murder in Fitzgerald Bay is big news, and people are talking. They’re already speculating about the identity of the killer, offering a hundred different explanations as to why she was murdered.” Aiden paused and inhaled deeply. “Your brother’s name has already come up.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. There’s been talk around town for a few weeks about Charles and Olivia being in a relationship.”
“What! Charles had no interest in Olivia as anything other than a nanny to his children.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Dad.” And getting more worked up than Douglas had expected.
“I know. It just burns me up the way people around town talk about things that have no basis in fact.”
“That’s the point, right? They speculated about a relationship that didn’t exist, and now they’re making up motives for murder out of those unfounded speculations. It’s not surprising, and it doesn’t mean anything.” But Douglas still wanted to name a suspect, give the people in town someone else to talk about.
“Doesn’t mean anything? Your brother is a war veteran, a hero who came back to serve his community. He deserves better than whispered accusations.” Aiden’s voice shook with the depth of his emotion, and Douglas put a hand on his shoulder.
“The people who are whispering are a very small minority, Dad. You know that.”
“It still isn’t right.” Aiden inhaled deeply, shook his head. “We need to find a suspect quickly, because there are people in town who believe we own the police department, and who’ll be more than happy to accuse us of tampering with evidence if they think we’re trying to protect Charles.”
“We’re not, so I really don’t care what they think.”
“You’d better care. If people think we’re covering anything up—”
“Why would they? We’ve always been aboveboard, and we’ve always conducted ourselves with integrity and honor. The town knows that.” Douglas pulled two prints off the back door, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.
But the Fitzgeralds had represented a large percentage of the police department for as long as there’d been one in town. Because of that, there were people who muttered about nepotism and favoritism. It had never been much of an issue. But then, no Fitzgerald had ever been a target of a murder investigation before.
And no one was now.
Douglas would happily tell that to anyone who cared to mumble and speculate, and he’d happily stand by his words.
His brother hadn’t committed a crime, and Douglas would do whatever it took to prove it.
Even make sweet, soft Merry O’Leary cry again.
SEVEN
“I s he here yet?” Tyler jumped from the couch to the love seat, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He needed a haircut. He also needed to stop jumping on the furniture.
Rules were rules.
Even when Merry felt too tired to enforce them.
“Jump on the floor, Ty, not on the furniture.”
“Okay, Mommy. Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump.” He hopped across the floor, his voice rising louder with every jump. Unlike Merry, the more tired Tyler got, the busier he became. He’d crash eventually, but not before Merry’s head exploded. She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and bit back irritation.
“On second thought, how about you find something quiet to do?”
“Play-Doh?”
“Sure. At the table in the kitchen, though. Not out here.”
“Jump, jump, jump.” Tyler hopped into the kitchen, and Merry pulled out Play-Doh and cookie cutters. That should keep him busy for at least ten minutes.
She glanced at the
“She’s not on their radar. Aside from the prints that were filed when she applied to teach, there’s no trace of her in the system.” Douglas dusted the first windowsill, picked up a set of smudged prints and moved to the next window.
“Call Boston again in the morning. We need more information, and we need it quickly. A murder in Fitzgerald Bay is big news, and people are talking. They’re already speculating about the identity of the killer, offering a hundred different explanations as to why she was murdered.” Aiden paused and inhaled deeply. “Your brother’s name has already come up.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. There’s been talk around town for a few weeks about Charles and Olivia being in a relationship.”
“What! Charles had no interest in Olivia as anything other than a nanny to his children.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Dad.” And getting more worked up than Douglas had expected.
“I know. It just burns me up the way people around town talk about things that have no basis in fact.”
“That’s the point, right? They speculated about a relationship that didn’t exist, and now they’re making up motives for murder out of those unfounded speculations. It’s not surprising, and it doesn’t mean anything.” But Douglas still wanted to name a suspect, give the people in town someone else to talk about.
“Doesn’t mean anything? Your brother is a war veteran, a hero who came back to serve his community. He deserves better than whispered accusations.” Aiden’s voice shook with the depth of his emotion, and Douglas put a hand on his shoulder.
“The people who are whispering are a very small minority, Dad. You know that.”
“It still isn’t right.” Aiden inhaled deeply, shook his head. “We need to find a suspect quickly, because there are people in town who believe we own the police department, and who’ll be more than happy to accuse us of tampering with evidence if they think we’re trying to protect Charles.”
“We’re not, so I really don’t care what they think.”
“You’d better care. If people think we’re covering anything up—”
“Why would they? We’ve always been aboveboard, and we’ve always conducted ourselves with integrity and honor. The town knows that.” Douglas pulled two prints off the back door, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.
But the Fitzgeralds had represented a large percentage of the police department for as long as there’d been one in town. Because of that, there were people who muttered about nepotism and favoritism. It had never been much of an issue. But then, no Fitzgerald had ever been a target of a murder investigation before.
And no one was now.
Douglas would happily tell that to anyone who cared to mumble and speculate, and he’d happily stand by his words.
His brother hadn’t committed a crime, and Douglas would do whatever it took to prove it.
Even make sweet, soft Merry O’Leary cry again.
SEVEN
“I s he here yet?” Tyler jumped from the couch to the love seat, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He needed a haircut. He also needed to stop jumping on the furniture.
Rules were rules.
Even when Merry felt too tired to enforce them.
“Jump on the floor, Ty, not on the furniture.”
“Okay, Mommy. Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump.” He hopped across the floor, his voice rising louder with every jump. Unlike Merry, the more tired Tyler got, the busier he became. He’d crash eventually, but not before Merry’s head exploded. She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and bit back irritation.
“On second thought, how about you find something quiet to do?”
“Play-Doh?”
“Sure. At the table in the kitchen, though. Not out here.”
“Jump, jump, jump.” Tyler hopped into the kitchen, and Merry pulled out Play-Doh and cookie cutters. That should keep him busy for at least ten minutes.
She glanced at the
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