Magic box murder, p.4
Magic Box Murder, page 4
“What’s he look like?”
“Six foot-ish. Short, brown hair, parted on the side. Looks like he stepped out of a J. Crew ad.”
She made another note. Why did he leave? Was he angry about something? Jealous of the attention Angelica was getting?
“Did his leaving have any effect on Angelica?”
“Not that I noticed. She was all smiles. She’d just won a bunch of swag and five hundred in cash. Wouldn’t you be all kittens and rainbows in the moment?”
“I see your point.”
To be honest, if Liam walked out of an event while she was receiving an award, she’d be hurt. Maybe even angry. Then again, it was possible that Angelica felt the same, but had masked her feelings.
It was too bad Darcy couldn’t ask her about it. Well, that made for another reason to start her investigation with Xander at the top of the list.
The boyfriend was far from the only suspect, though. Rafe’s temper tantrum was still fresh in Darcy’s mind.
“Rafe Majors was seriously honked off when Angelica was announced as the winner.”
The Hobbit took another drink of his coffee. “I love Rafe like a brother. God knows he’s spent enough money next door at The Comic Castle to deserve a lifetime achievement award. But that man is the worst loser on Earth.”
“Any idea what made him so mad?” While Rafe had matured a lot in the ten months since his stepdad had been murdered, he still acted like a petulant five-year-old way more often than a man in his late thirties should.
“He won his division last year and has been shooting his mouth off that he was going to win the whole thing this time. I overheard him say he was so confident he’d already spent the grand prize money.”
Darcy fiddled with a dangly earring. Liam had given her a pair for Christmas. She was still getting used to them. Adjusting the piece of jewelry gave her a chance to think, though. Something wasn’t adding up.
“Let me get this straight. This year was the first time you gave away the big grand prize. And the winner was determined by a secret formula you used. Seems to me, if Rafe had a beef, he should have taken it up with you instead of storming out.”
“You’d have to talk to him about that. I can show you how we determined the overall winner. Todd Meadows helped me put it together.” He opened a laptop that was on a shelf below the cash register. A spreadsheet with a complicated-looking equation was on the screen. “It was all above board. See? Rafe was the only one who got mad.”
“But you didn’t show your formula to anyone beforehand, right?”
“No. We decided it was best to keep it under wraps so nobody would have a chance to figure out a way to game it.” He closed the computer with a heavy sigh. “If I had to do it all over again, I would have. Maybe then Rafe wouldn’t have gotten so honked off. On top of that, whoever killed Angelica smashed her trophy to bits. Who would have been mad enough to do that?”
“That’s a good question.” And one that Darcy couldn’t help noticing directed the spotlight onto someone specific. Which seemed convenient.
Even though the Hobbit had called her, she wouldn’t rule him out. Not yet.
“I have to ask, so don’t get mad. Can anyone verify your story that when you found her, she was already dead?”
“Come on. Seriously?” He balled his hands into fists. “If I killed her, why would I call you?”
“If you’re the murderer, and I’m not saying you are, to cover up the crime. To throw suspicion onto someone else. Like Rafe.” She locked gazes with him. “If you want my help, you have to be a hundred percent honest with me. I’m not going to stick my neck out only to have it get chopped off.”
Seconds ticked by until he looked at the floor and relaxed his fists.
“I guess I can see where you’re coming from. I don’t have to like it, though.”
“No, you don’t. You better get used to it, though. Paul Gerard is smart. This might be his first murder case, but he’ll work it a lot harder than Rosengarten ever did.”
“Great. I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.”
“Since you’re innocent, consider it a blessing. He’ll get to the bottom of this.”
The Hobbit rose as he broke into a smile. “You believe me, then? Really?”
“Yes, I do. I need to prove it, though. Can anyone verify your story?”
“No. It had been a long couple of days. As soon as everyone was gone and the place was in decent shape, I sent my guys home. You can ask them.”
“I will.” She placed her fingers on her phone’s keyboard. “Why don’t you give me their deets now.”
Despite his grumblings, Darcy didn’t relent until he gave her phone numbers, email addresses, and physical addresses for all six of his employees who worked Friday and Saturday. She’d learned many things running the record store. One of them was how important it was to get complete information the first time around. There was nothing worse than fulfilling a special order and then not being able to reach the customer because phone number digits were transposed or an email address was misspelled.
With a murderer on the loose, getting right the first time was critical.
“Okay. Is there anything else you can remember from the scene? Did she still have her purse? Were her car keys somewhere on the ground?”
“The purse was there. I don’t know about the keys. Why?”
“I’m trying to get a picture of the scene in my head.” While that was true, it wasn’t a complete answer.
If Angelica’s purse was at the crime scene, the likelihood that robbery was the motive decreased. If her keys weren’t at hand, then that seemed to indicate that she was accosted on her way to her car. Surely, she had been taught to have her keys in hand so she could use them in self-defense, if needed.
Between the prize package and the trophy, her hands would have been full. Maybe she figured she was safe in Marysburg to leave them in her purse until she made it to the car.
If that was the case, then she wouldn’t have been on her guard. Who could blame her? She was probably busy enjoying a well-earned state of euphoria as the event’s grand champion.
Following that thread would seem to indicate that Angelica was surprised by her attacker. As if someone had been lying in wait for the poor young woman.
Or she knew her murderer.
O’Sullivan scratched at a spot on his forearm. It was redder than the rest of his arm. A symptom of nerves, no doubt. Darcy couldn’t help wondering if it was because he was upset over the horrific developments of the last twelve hours or if it was something else.
Like, whether he was hiding something. Something deadly.
Chapter Five
After a quick look around the remnants of the crime scene, Darcy made her way to the comforting environs of Marysburg Music. Sure, the memory of finding Eddie stabbed to death in the store’s office would haunt her for the rest of her days. That vision paled in comparison to the good memories Eddie and Darcy had created from the day they first opened the store.
The structure of brick and mortar, with its brushed concrete floor, acoustical ceiling tiles, and memorabilia-covered walls, was her sanctuary. It was where she did some of her best thinking.
Which she was going to need, given the heart-wrenching developments of the last day.
Hank hadn’t arrived yet, so once Darcy finished prepping the store for opening, she retreated to her office. It was time for another session with the Suspect Board, the dry-erase board that was normally used to post about upcoming releases.
She was staring at the board’s blank surface when there was a knock at the door.
“Morning, Darcy. How’s it going?” Hank handed her a steaming cup of herbal tea.
“You’re the best. You know that?” She brought the cup to her nose and inhaled until her lungs were full. The floral aroma of chamomile slowed her racing thoughts.
He shrugged. “I try. Your board looks awfully empty. I hope you haven’t been staring at it very long.”
“Nope. Still getting my thoughts in order. It’s early days, as the saying goes.” She uncapped a red marker and wrote “Rafe Majors” and “Sean O’Sullivan” on the board. “Better?”
Hank put his hand over his heart. “Yikes. I hate to see any name go up there. But a member of our record store family? That hurts.”
Rafe had worked part-time at Marysburg Music over the holiday season. His knowledge of house music had turned out to be quite an asset. He’d also been reliable. Despite her initial trepidation at bringing him on board, not once did she regret the decision.
What a change from her relationship with him only months before.
Now, she had his name up on her suspect board. Yes, it did hurt. It was necessary, though.
“Gotta start somewhere. Just because those names are up there doesn’t mean I’m convinced either of them is the murderer.”
“The fact that you have them up there isn’t exactly encouraging.”
Hank was correct. Still, this was one of those times when he was close to entering Drama-land, a locale that was discouraged at Marysburg Music.
“The Hobbit doesn’t have anyone who can verify his alibi at the time of the murder. When he wasn’t announced as the overall winner, Rafe got angry and left. That’s all. Like I said, early days.”
“If you insist.” He put his arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Let me know when I can help. I’ll be out front.”
Darcy returned the hug. He was a good, steadying force at the store. Darcy couldn’t keep it going without him. With a kind word, a pat on the back, or a hot cup of tea, the man was truly a father figure in all the best ways.
Once she was on her own again, she created her Motive, Means, Opportunity matrix on the board. For Rafe, she noted in the Motive column that he was angry about losing to Angelica. For the Hobbit, she jotted down the claim that the deceased had insulted him and the tournament time and time again throughout the event.
“Not exactly chart-topping motives.” She drummed her fingers on her thigh as she stared at the board, willing it to offer some answers. After a few moments, one came to her.
“Let’s get to know Ms. Angelica Stipe. The Internet’s forever, after all.”
She was scrolling through Angelica’s Instagram feed when the office door burst open.
“Darcy, you gotta help me.” Rafe Majors dropped into a chair and grabbed hold of the desk. “The cops think I killed Stipe.”
Hank filled the open doorway. His chest was heaving as he scowled at Rafe. “Sorry, Darcy. I tried to stop him, but he’s stronger than me.”
She put up her hands to get them to stop. At times like this, returning to the footloose and fancy-free lifestyle she led while pounding the skins for Pixie Dust was tempting.
“Hold on, people.” Darcy pointed a finger at Rafe. “Stay still and be quiet while I talk to Hank.”
Once they were out of earshot of their visitor, Darcy let out a small laugh. “I appreciate the effort. Actually, this saves me time. I was gonna have to talk to Rafe at some point. This saves me the headache of tracking him down.”
“Are you sure?” He glanced toward the office. “I mean, if the police think he’s involved….”
“I’ll be fine. If he tries anything stupid, I’ll whack him over the head with the bent cymbal hanging on the wall.”
They both laughed at Darcy’s mention of the damaged musical instrument. It had played an unexpected role in literally taking a murderer to their knees. In honor of that, she’d put it on display in her office.
Right behind her. Where it was within easy reach.
“Say no more. I can hold down the fort until Izzy gets here.”
The second the office door clicked shut, Rafe jumped to his feet. “You need to take my name off that board. Right now. I didn’t kill anyone.”
Darcy held her tongue as she counted to ten. On one hand, she wanted to knock some sense into him with a bass drum pedal. The nerve of the man to barge into her office and start bossing her around. On the other hand, he was scared. She could identify with that.
“Chill, dude.” She put her hand on his shoulder to ease him back into his seat. “That’s my suspect board, not murderer board. Just because your name’s on it doesn’t mean I think you did it.”
“But—”
“No, buts. You want my help? You can start by telling me why the cops think you might have information about Angelica’s death.” Her word choice was intentional. She needed Rafe calm, so he could think clearly while he answered her questions.
“They said since I got mad about her winning the big prize, I have motive.”
“Okay, let’s start at the beginning. By ‘they,’ you mean the police, right? When did they talk to you.”
“They came banging on my door at eight this morning. Got me out of bed.” He rubbed his forehead. “I might have had one too many last night, so I wasn’t happy about being harassed like that.”
Conducting a witness interview the morning after a murder wasn’t exactly harassment in Darcy’s book. Then again, as a white woman, she’d never been profiled, either. She’d let Rafe’s grumbling pass. For now.
After all, it wasn’t like they kicked down Rafe’s door and hauled him away in cuffs at three A.M. If they had done that, Darcy would have been way more sympathetic.
“I’ll be honest, lots of people saw the way you took off. You looked pretty mad.”
“Sure, I was. Not at her, though. I got robbed by the Hobbit’s b.s. secret scoring system.”
“Okay, that’s good to know. Did the police say why exactly they wanted to talk to you?”
He rubbed the three-day stubble on his chin. His eyes were clear and there were no dark circles under them, unlike the Hobbit. At least he’d gotten a good night’s rest before everything came crashing down.
“They said I made threats against her. That she didn’t deserve the grand champion swag she got.”
It wasn’t exactly what Darcy was looking for, but it was a start.
“Be honest. Do you remember saying anything like that? I’m not here to judge. I need facts.”
“I don’t remember exactly, but I might have said a few things.” His shoulders sagged. “I was mad. I thought for sure I won the overall. And, Stipe, she was a piece of work. I’m not saying she deserved to get bumped off, but she didn’t make any friends during the tourney.”
Interesting. Rafe and the Hobbit shared the same sentiment about Angelica’s attitude. She made a note on a sheet of paper to talk to more people about that issue.
“Good. Now, this is important. Did the cops talk to you about the crime scene.” She wasn’t trying to trip Rafe up. She needed to know what he knew, though. That would help give her an idea of what Paul Gerard and his buddies in blue were thinking about Rafe.
He rubbed his hands together, as if he was trying to figure out a way to respond without incriminating himself. After a while, he nodded.
“At one point, they said the trophy was smashed all to bits. Like, way worse than if someone had dropped it and it broke.”
Again, that information aligned with what O’Sullivan’s said.
“The detective, Gerard, he also said her prize money was missing. Wanted to know if I knew anything about that. I told him no.”
“Is that the truth?”
Rafe had a well-earned reputation around Marysburg for being a poor money manager. He was getting better, with Darcy’s guidance. Given his history of spending money faster than he earned it, it wasn’t surprising Paul asked him about the cash.
“Yeah, it’s one hundred percent the truth.” The fury that dripped from every word made a convincing case for Rafe.
Besides, Darcy knew something most people didn’t. Thanks to the monthly meetings the two of them had to stay on top of Rafe’s finances, he wasn’t perpetually broke anymore. He didn’t need the money.
Whether he thought he deserved the money as the rightful winner of the tournament was another matter.
“What else did they ask?”
“If I had gloves with me last night.” He threw up his hands. “What a stupid question. It was like, twenty degrees out. I might not be a rocket scientist, but I’m not stupid. I got a nice pair of leather gloves from my mom for Christmas.”
“Do you know why Paul asked you that?”
“No. By that time, I was tired of answering all his questions. I told him I was done. If he wanted to talk to me again, he could call my lawyer.”
Darcy raised her eyebrows. She had helped Rafe find an attorney to help him with estate planning after he inherited Eddie’s house and several other valuable assets. She could only hope he didn’t think an estate planning lawyer would be sufficient to represent him in a potential criminal matter. Well, it was better to get things out in the open now, rather than later.
“I didn’t know you had one.”
He laughed. “I don’t. But Gerard don’t know that.”
Playing games with the police didn’t seem like a good idea to Darcy. Rafe was an adult, though. If he wanted to play with fire, he was the one who was going to get burned.
“Anything else you can think of?”
“He asked if he could have a look around the house. I told him not without a warrant. I wasn’t going to give him a chance to plant evidence. Like I said, I’m not stupid.”
Darcy leaned back and blew out a breath while she ran her fingers through her long, brown hair. The conversation had been going so well. And then Rafe managed to step in a proverbial pile of dog poo.
“Okay, Rafe. Here’s what I see. You stopped answering Paul’s questions. You refused to let him have a look around. You told him to talk to your lawyer. You know what kind of person does those kinds of things from the cops’ view?”
He sat up straighter in his chair. “Yeah. A smart one.”
“Maybe.” She tapped her finger on the desktop. “Or someone with something to hide. Like someone who committed murder.”
“Oh.” He slumped back into his chair.
“Yeah.” Darcy got to her feet. “Rafe, I already promised the Hobbit I’ll look into things. I think you better get that fancy new phone of yours out and find a good criminal defense lawyer. Paul Gerard will pay you another visit. You can count on it. When he does, you’ll want that lawyer on speed dial.”
