The secrets they keep, p.10
The Secrets They Keep, page 10
“Any other markings?” Mac asked.
“Bruised right cheek, almost fully healed. Then I found some bruising on the abdomen that was fairly recent as well. I’d say the bruises all occurred at roughly the same time.”
“Can you say what caused it?” Mac asked.
“It’s consistent with blunt force trauma,” she said. “Beyond that I can’t tell. If it had happened the night he died, it would be easier to tell.”
“Anything else?” Mac asked, taking the file from Grace’s hands and skimming through it.
“Broken arm a long time ago, back in his childhood. Two dental implants for his top front teeth. Nothing else serious to note. Nothing that hasn’t already healed except what I told you. I’ve sent some blood samples to the lab, but I’d guess you’ll have better luck with the DNA collected on his clothes and from the car.”
“It’s all closer to the left side,” Mac said, “so the killer wasn’t in the car with him then.”
“She said the stab wounds came from the front and the strangulation in the car.” Grace grabbed for the file, but he held it back.
“No fighting, you two,” Lockwood said and handed Grace her own file. “I thought this might be needed, but I was hoping things had settled down between you two.”
“Oh, they have,” Mac smirked. “This is what settled looks like for us.”
“Is that right?”
Grace shook her head. “One step forward…”
“Well, you’re both smiling, so it can’t be that bad.”
“Anything else unusual?” Grace asked before pursing her lips, eager to regain focus.
“Nothing under the nails, no defensive wounds,” she said.
“So this happened fast.” Mac looked down at the vic. “His parents and widow are coming in this afternoon?”
Lockwood nodded.
“We received a sort of complaint from the widow passed on to us by the vic’s mom, so just be aware,” Mac said, tapping the file. “And sensitive. Thanks.”
Lockwood nodded, and Mac strode toward the door, stopping when he realized Grace wasn’t right behind him.
“Sheppard?”
“Have fun tonight,” Grace said, giving her a small nod.
“Ugh, thanks,” Lockwood grinned. “So much pressure.”
“Sometime today?” Mac called.
Lockwood raised her brows and opened her mouth to say something, but Grace did first. “Sorry, was I supposed to hold your hand and guide you out to your car?”
“Ha,” Lockwood let out a huff of air and nodded.
Mac muttered to himself, scratching his head and using his body to push the door open with a straight face.
“Take care.” Grace strode to the door as Mac held it open for her, holding his hand out toward her with a grin and wiggling his fingers.
“Oh, go on,” Grace laughed and pushed his shoulder, grabbing the door for herself. As she glanced over her shoulder, Lockwood smirked at her, giving her a knowing nod.
She sees there’s something going on between us. I don’t even know what it is, but she sees it.
“Tarek’s got the cell records for us,” Mac said before they split up, walking back to their cars. “Hey, I thought you’d walk me to my car?” He held his hand out again for her to hold.
She shook her head, unable to wipe the grin off her face, and she slid into her own car.
Tarek handed her the cell records as Mac joined them, balancing three coffee cups in his hands.
“Thanks.” Tarek took one.
Grace put hers on the table in front of her. “I’m getting sick of drinking out of Styrofoam. Do you know how bad it is for the environment?”
Mac stood on the other side of her, leaning over her shoulder again to see the reports.
I can’t concentrate with him standing like that. So close.
“They go back six months,” Tarek said, sitting in the chair beside them. “Not much variety.”
Grace stepped aside and put the papers on the table before sitting beside him.
“What do you mean?” Mac asked, grabbing a chair of his own.
“He rarely called anyone except his wife, Marie Boyd, and even then, the calls never lasted long. Those are highlighted in pink. A few to his parents’ number, the Boyds—orange. Then he texted most people. They’re all there. Your special request for financial records is coming right up, hopefully today. Do you need me to go over the call logs with you, or?”
“Naw, we’ll be fine,” Mac said, pulling his chair up to the table beside her.
“Thanks, Tarek,” Grace said, and he left the room. “I want to know who Cory was talking to during the wedding. He kept taking calls outside.”
Mac laid the papers out across the table, focusing on the first one.
“Okay, his last communication was… an outgoing call to Brad Hensen.” Mac highlighted the name and number. “His business partner’s personal cell phone. 8:43 PM.”
“For just under ten minutes. Todd was saying Cory stepped out to take calls, so that was the last one, shortly before he called Marie outside.”
Grace leaned over the table and ran her finger down the other numbers. “One incoming call from Brad the day prior, but then nothing from him for...at least a week.”
“Okay, we’re going to pay Brad a personal visit,” Mac said, standing up straight and writing his name on the dry erase board. “Our first suspect. He spoke to Cory right before our witnesses say there was the whole debacle outside.”
“Could have put him in a bad mood.” Grace read over the rest of the first page as Mac wrote out the call times on the board.
“Otherwise, the majority of the communication was to and from Marie. Two incoming calls from his parents that week, likely his mom.”
“That’s it?”
“For the first page. That goes back a week. I need to look into these more in depth.”
“Okay, but let’s focus on Brad Hensen,” Mac said. “Highlight all the calls to and from him, the business number, his cell number…”
“I got it.” Grace grabbed a highlighter. “You start a few months before they opened their business, and I’ll start from the present. We’ll meet in the middle—”
“Doubtful,” Mac smirked.
Grace rolled her eyes and took a seat. Wordlessly, they poured over the pages for almost an hour, spreading them out onto the table once finished.
“You see the pattern?” Grace asked, taking a step back to join Mac where he stood.
Constant initial contact between Brad and Cory that tapered off as the months went on.
She marvelled over the papers as Mac studied them.
“Lots of texts and calls back and forth the month they opened the business.” He rested his hands on his hips. “Then a cool-off period for two months, until this month. Then there’s a few more.”
“Right.” Glad you’ve caught up. “They barely communicated at all before they opened the business. It’s like when Cory won the money, he just called up an old friend on a whim, and they decided to make a long-ago pipe dream come true.”
“No time to plan. They just bought the place a few weeks after Cory’s initial contact with Brad.”
Mac nodded. “Something happened there. From what you told me your sister heard, I’m going to guess it was about money.”
If money was an issue for the business, it would have gotten between their friendship. It would have become personal.
She turned to Mac. “That phone call could be not just a stressor, but the trigger that led to Cory’s murder.”
Mac grabbed the dry erase marker and strode to the board.
Finally, we’re getting somewhere.
“It’s almost dinner time,” he said after writing “business money” as a motive on the board.
“You’re thinking about food again? When we just had a breakthrough?”
Mac laughed and shook his head, setting the marker down. “The store is closed, but even if he works elsewhere, chances are he’d be home for dinner, no?”
Grace grabbed her jacket, and Mac followed her out of the room.
“Let’s take your car.”
Grace frowned. “Sure, why?”
“I don’t want us to look too official.”
“Good idea. We can make it seem like it’s just a routine call to get more information.”
“What did you just say?” Mac asked, holding the door open for her.
“Like a routine—”
“Nope,” he said, following her out to her car. “You said ‘good idea.’ Glad you’re finally recognizing.”
Grace kept walking to the car, refusing to give him the attention he apparently desired and refusing to break the tension between them with words on the drive to the Hensen’s.
Maybe I like the attention too.
Chapter Fourteen
“This is a rich neighbourhood,” Mac said as they parked in front of a large two-story home on a quiet suburban street. “Makes you think he’s doing well for himself instead of dealing with a failed business.”
“You know as well as I do that the façade can be more of an attempt to keep up with the Joneses than a real reflection of their wealth.”
As they walked past two large pillars before the front door, a young boy’s cries echoed from behind it.
“Wallace, you stop that right now!” a woman shouted. “Come and wash your hands or you’ll go hungry.”
“Good.” Mac pressed the doorbell button. “We caught them before they sit down to eat.”
“Brad,” the woman hollered. “Can you please get that?”
Grace and Mac exchanged glances as a thumping noise came from behind the door.
“Brad, I said someone’s at the door. Can you not hear the…”
Her muffled voice disappeared, and a clicking signaled someone at the door. As it opened, a middle-aged woman in a pencil skirt and blazer stood on in the grand entryway, swooping some of her loose hair back into her low bun.
“Hello, can I help you?” she asked.
Mac opened his mouth to speak, but she stepped away and turned to the right. “Wallace, if I have to ask you one more time, you’re grounded.”
As she turned back, a man descended the stairs in sweatpants and a ripped t-shirt. “Oh,” he said, slowing down when he noticed the door open.
“I’m sorry.” The woman sighed and craned her neck out, waiting for one of them to speak.
“We’d like to speak to Brad Hensen,” Mac said.
“That’s me,” Brad said, looking down at himself. “Excuse me, I was just working out. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“We’re from the police department,” Mac said.
“I’m Detective Sheppard. This is Officer MacIntyre. We’re here to ask you some questions regarding the murder of your business partner, Cory Boyd.”
The woman’s eyes opened wider, and Brad pursed his lips, nodding.
“Of course,” he said. “Please come in.”
They stepped into the foyer, but instead of inviting them to sit down as Grace had predicted, they stood still in front of them, waiting.
“Sir,” Mac said. “If you could, we’d like to know more about the nature of your partnership with Cory.”
Brad raised his brow as a young boy who couldn’t be more than ten ran between them into the kitchen.
“You wash your hands!” the woman shouted.
“I am,” the child shrieked.
The woman rubbed her temple and turned to her husband.
“I knew Cory back in college,” Brad said. “We played hockey together, and we always talked about running our own equipment place. Offering skating lessons. I don’t know, lots of things we both knew would never happen…until it did.”
So I was right. A pipe dream.
“Cory rang me up one morning last summer and told me he wanted to follow through with the plan. It was crazy, but it happened at the right time. I was in sales, hating my job, and I was barely here for Wally. I worked so late every night, worked on commission. I hated it, and opening our dream store was too good to pass up. So we did.”
Mrs. Hensen may have been trying to hide her expression, but her micro expressions told Grace she hadn’t approved.
“Everything was going fine, too, until the end of fall. We weren’t making a profit, which is normal for start-ups, but Cory paying himself? Not normal. I wasn’t taking a salary. We’d both agreed not to until a steady profit could be made.”
“So you confronted him?”
Brad nodded. “He told me he didn’t see the harm and that I should take a salary too. Trust me, I wanted to. Pam and I agreed that she’d be the breadwinner for a year or so, until a profit started coming in, but she was stressed. I was stressed.”
Pam rolled her eyes.
“It was a mess,” Pam said. “It still is. I told him from the beginning, they should have drawn up a proper business plan. Brad was convinced that because Cory was backing them financially up to eighty percent that he was just as invested in the success of the business. Maybe more.”
She let out a huff of breath and shook her head, resting her hands on her hips.
She’s overworked, probably underpaid, and she resents her husband.
“And I knew it then, when he went back on his word,” Brad said, “that I’d made a mistake, but this was my dream. I say was because Cory and I were no longer in business prior to his passing. If I’d known speaking to me might help you with your investigation, I’d have come in myself, but our store was already closed. We’d already cut ties.”
Convenient.
“Finally,” Pam said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “If you had listened to me in the first place, you’d have kept your sales job on the side and been able to go back to it now instead of being unemployed.”
“I’m not unemployed,” he sneered, glancing from his wife to them. “I’m invested in stocks, and that could be a full-time job itself, believe me. I took what was left of the money and invested.”
“Thank God there was some left,” Pam said as a clattering noise came from the kitchen. “Wallace! Excuse me.” She strode into the kitchen, and her voice echoed into the foyer until Brad spoke.
“My wife is still upset, and frankly, so am I, but I’ve moved on. I don’t see how I can help your investigation.”
“Why did you decide to part ways?” Mac asked. “And when?”
Brad glanced toward the kitchen, and as the water ran, he took a step closer to them.
“Just after the new year,” he said in a hushed tone, “I caught Cory cooking the books. Making it seem like we didn’t have as much profit. Taking more than a little off the top. When I confronted him with our accountant, who can vouch for every word of this, he told me he had a problem. A gambling addiction, but that he was getting better. Going to Gambling Anonymous or whatever the hell you go to for that. I was in deep at this point, so I did the only thing I thought I could do. I told him if anything else happened from that point on, we were finished, and I wouldn’t give him a warning next time. Pam doesn’t know this, alright?”
“So you caught him again?” Grace asked.
Brad nodded, and the tap turned off.
“So I closed the business without even telling him. I liquidated our merchandise, took the last of the money, which nowhere near covered how much I invested in the place, mind you, and closed it all down. He kept trying to get a hold of me, and for a while, I wouldn’t answer. I was so mad. My wife is carrying our financial burden on her own, and getting back on my feet isn’t as easy as I’d hoped it would be. That money I initially invested? That was for Wally’s college fund. I blew it.”
He shook his head as his chest heaved.
“He came to my home a few days after I closed the store for good,” Brad said, lowering his voice again. “I couldn’t believe it, but then again, I guess he was desperate. He just wasn’t the guy I knew anymore. He looked rough. He wanted the money. What a joke.”
He shook his head and stared at the beautiful marble floor, clenching his jaw.
“And you gave him some,” Grace whispered.
Brad studied her before nodding.
“You felt bad for him,” Grace said.
“He had a wife,” Brad whispered. “And he told me they had a baby on the way.”
A baby?
Mac frowned and turned to Grace.
Let him go on.
Grace shook her head slightly. “Was that when you found out? When he showed up on your doorstep?”
Brad nodded. “I gave him a few thousand and told him never to contact me again. Pam doesn’t know. He didn’t try again until the other night. I guess the night he died. He called me and told me he was sorry.”
“Go on,” Grace said as Pam rejoined them.
“We’d just finished dinner, and Wally had a hockey game we had to leave for when he called. I answered. I don’t know why.”
He stared off, and Pam placed her hand on his back. “Cory was crying,” he said. “He was begging for my forgiveness.” He choked on the last word.
So he’s honest about the call we have on record.
“We—we’d fought so much over Cory that when Brad decided to answer his call,” Pam said, pausing, “I took Wallace to hockey without him. Just grabbed the keys; he grabbed his bag, and we left. I was so mad he answered the call, but now…”
“It feels like some sort of closure, I guess,” Brad said, each word hanging in the air like a fog. “He asked for money again, and I did it. I transferred it to him.”
“I’m glad he took the call,” Pam said, rubbing his back. In hindsight, he must have been in a bad place. His poor wife. But giving him money again—I’m sorry—I’m still upset about that.”
“Are you close with Marie?” Grace asked.
“Oh, no, not really,” Pam said. “In fact, I’ve only met her twice.”
“In more than a few months?” Mac asked.
She nodded. “I’ve been busy with work and Wallace and the house. We just never found time to get together if we weren’t with Brad and Cory.”
She was holding everything together for her husband to live out his dream, and this is what she’s gotten for it.
