Page 52 of Breaking Rules

She disappeared into a back room, returning a moment later with a thick binder. Kevin flipped it open, his eyes scanning the pages. He focused on the week before Frank’s death, his finger running down the list of names.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” he muttered under his breath. Then, his finger stopped. “Wait a minute.”

There, scribbled in barely legible handwriting, was a name that seemed to start with H and end with “man.” The time stamp showed the visitor had only stayed for an hour.

Kevin squinted at the name, trying to make it out. Could it be Hartman? And if so, what had they talked about?

He snapped a photo of the page with his phone then handed the binder back to the nurse with a smile. “Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.”

As he walked out of the facility, his mind was already churning with possibilities. He needed to get this information back to the team, and fast. If Hartman was involved, they needed to know what he was up to.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Sam, Jo, and Wyatt huddled around a desk, poring over the phone logs from Marnie’s campaign office. Stacks of paper and empty coffee cups littered the surface, a testament to the long hours they’d spent trying to make sense of the calls.

“This feels like a wild goose chase.” Jo sighed, rubbing her temples. “We don’t even know if Alex made these calls.”

“It was smart of him to switch the phone lines to one central line,” Wyatt said. “Which seems to indicate he had reasons for not wanting anyone to be able to know who he had called.”

Jo nodded. “Too bad those reasons got him killed.”

“Hopefully, we can find something that stands out. Marnie said she caught Alex looking through her address list of big donors. Let’s see if any of these numbers match up,” Sam said.

They divided the list, each taking a section to cross-reference with the logs. The room fell silent save for the rustling of papers and the occasional scratch of a pen.

“Got one,” Wyatt announced, breaking the silence. “Dottie Smalls, that big real estate developer. Several calls to her number.”

Jo perked up. “I’ve got another. Nathan Rickman. Who is he?”

Wyatt typed into the computer, and his eyes widened. “He’s on the board of Convale.”

Jo tapped her pencil on the desk. “Interesting. So someone at Convale is a big donor to Marnie’s campaign? That makes me suspicious.”

Sam looked up from his list. “I think he’s the guy that I saw in the cigar bar with Victor Sorrentino.”

Jo narrowed her eyes. “Interesting.”

Wyatt brought up another screen and started typing. “Yep, Rickman has been on the board of Convale since retiring from banking a few years ago. Guess some people don’t know how to just rest when they retire.”

Sam snorted and continued the search, finding two more names that matched both Marnie’s list and the outgoing calls: Thaddeus Blackwell, a wealthy retired businessman, and Evelyn Sinclair, a prominent local philanthropist.

“So what are we thinking?” Sam mused, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe Alex called one of them to meet at the Drunken Moose?”

“Yep, and he had something on one of them? Was he blackmailing them? That would be a reason to kill him,” Jo said.

“It has to tie back to the bank robbery. What else would be enough that someone wouldn’t want anyone to know?” Sam wondered.

Jo nodded. “We know Alex was dragged out into the water at the Thorne Industries property, and Beryl Thorne’s been hanging around with Victor Sorrentino.”

“And Victor smokes cigars,” Sam said.

“And works at Convale,” Wyatt added.

“And hangs around with this Rickman guy,” Jo added.

Just then, a commotion drew their attention. Major had jumped onto Jo’s desk and was batting at her half-eaten tuna sandwich.

“Hey!” Jo shouted, spotting the feline’s antics. “Get away from that, you little thief!”

---