Page 6 of Breaking Rules

“Hey, everyone.” Kevin accepted the coffee that Jo was holding out. “Thanks. Did you guys find anything out at the campaign office?”

Wyatt stopped typing and looked up to hear the response.

Kevin pulled his chair out into the center of the room, settling into it with a purposeful air, while Sam leaned against the edge of the desk.Lucy made herself comfortable in the stream of sunlight that came from the tall windows.

Jo had settled behind her desk. “At the campaign headquarters, people seemed shocked about Alex’s death.”

Kevin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his attention fixed on Jo. “Do you think that was genuine for everyone?”

Jo shrugged and started tapping the eraser end of her pencil against the smooth surface of her desk. “Hard to tell. There were a lot of people there, and I couldn’t study everyone at the same time.”

Sam sipped his coffee then added, “Someone there was making a call, though. I think they alerted Marnie. She said she was informed before she arrived. But she acted shocked... emphasis on ‘acted.’” He made air quotes with his fingers to stress his point.

Jo nodded in agreement, her pencil now paused in midair. “Then she turned it into a rally for her cause. Nothing much changes with her.”

Wyatt glanced up from his screen, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like she’s more concerned about her campaign than the death.”

“Did you expect anything more?” Kevin asked. They all shared a similar opinion of the mayoral candidate, though the current mayor, Henley Jamison, wasn’t much better.

Sam turned to Kevin. “What about you? Wyatt said you went to Golden View. Did you discover anything useful?”

“Everyone there said Alex was a doting grandson. But the cost of that place... They said Alex insisted on the best for Frank. I don’t know if Frank had money that Alex used to pay for it, but they said Alex paid the bills,” Kevin said. “I asked if they noticed anything strange about Alex or anyone he didn’t get along with, but they all said he’d been fine except for his understandable grief over the loss of his grandfather.”

“I’ve been digging online,” Wyatt said. “I doubt Frank had much. His career in the sewer department wouldn’t have left him wealthy, and most of his savings were likely eaten up by his illness. Reese got a warrant for Alex’s bank information, and he had minimal savings.”

“What about the safe deposit box? He had that key, and he could have kept cash in there,” Jo said.

Wyatt shook his head. “No record of a safety deposit box.”

“Do you think he made a lot as a campaign manager?” Kevin asked.

Wyatt snorted. “Doubtful. Before that, he was an IT consultant at the bank, so maybe he got some good investing advice? I didn’t find any investment portfolio at his bank, though.”

“Maybe his parents have money or one of Frank’s other kids. They could have been paying for Frank’s care,” Sam suggested.

“I’ll dig in and see what I can find,” Wyatt said.

“Did you find out anything else from his social media?” Sam asked.

Wyatt glanced at his screen. “Looks like Alex kept to himself. He had some friends. Lots of pictures of him hiking, snowshoeing, skiing, boating in the summer.”

“That doesn’t sound like a ton to go on. Maybe we’ll find out more at his apartment tomorrow.”

The sound of the door swinging open was accompanied by Reese’s curious and cheerful voice, “Hey! Wow, what have you got there?”

“Pies,” came Bridget’s voice, light and musical, just a moment before she stepped into view. At first glance, no one would have pegged her as Jo’s sister. While both were of a petite build, Bridget sported a short, stylish haircut that matched her vibrant, flowery demeanor. In contrast, Jo’s auburn curls, which fell in longer waves, were usually tucked up under her police cap, her manner more serious and focused on the tasks at hand.

Bridget stopped a few steps into the room. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Jo exhaled, a smile tugging at her lips. “Actually, a break is just what we needed.”

“Good, then,” she said, placing a foil-covered pie plate on Jo’s desk. “Apple pie for your visit to Garvin McDaniels,” she said with a wink.

“You’re bribing your landlord to sell to you with pie?” Wyatt asked.

Jo laughed. “I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly. He’s a lonely old man who doesn’t get any home-cooked food.” Both were true, and Jo did feel empathy for her elderly landlord, but she also wanted to sweeten him up a bit so that he’d decide to sell her the cottage she rented. She’d approached him with an offer previously, but he’d been reluctant to sell.

Jo lifted the foil off and took a whiff.

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