Page 27 of Half Baked

“We could knock,” Noah said, then lifted the key card. “Or we could see if this works.”

“We can’t do that,” I protested. “It’s an invasion of his privacy.” I narrowed my eyes. “Not to mention it seems illegal for a police officer to enter an apartment without a search warrant.”

He grinned. “Looks like someone has been doing some homework on police procedure. But I’m not here to collect evidence or arrest him. And even if I wanted to question him myself, it wouldn’t hold up in court. This is a fishing expedition. I hope it will point me in the right direction to start looking.” He lifted the card to the reader next to the door, and the lock clicked open. “Maybe just push it open a crack and call out his name.”

“Okay,” I said reluctantly. While I wanted answers, I didn’t want to get in trouble—or to get Noah in trouble.

I pushed the door open and peered inside. Detective Bergan was exactly where I’d left him the day before. The only difference was that he was wearing a fresh shirt. “Howard?” I called out, deciding it was better to use his first name.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he kept his gaze on the TV screen, which was airing another football game.

I pushed the door open wider. Remembering how annoyed he’d been when the aide had called him mister, I said, “Hi, Detective Bergan. It’s Maddie.”

He swung his gaze over to me, confusion on his face. “Who?”

“Maddie.” I stepped into the room. “I stopped by yesterday, and I thought I’d visit you again and see if you need more help with your remote.”

His face scrunched up as he turned his attention back to the TV. “I don’t need any visitors, and I don’t need help with my remote.”

“I hope you don’t mind me coming in and sitting for a minute anyway,” I said, my heart beating rapidly against my ribcage. This wasn’t off to a great start. “You have such a lovely view of the courtyard.” I sat on the sofa beside his chair, my back to the view. Noah stood in the doorway, then slipped in. He stayed by the door, letting it close behind him.

We sat in silence for several long seconds before I started asking questions.

“Detective Bergan, do you remember who I am?”

“You just told me your name is Maddie,” he snapped, his gaze still on the TV. “I may have dementia, but I can still remember plenty.”

“But do you remember me coming in yesterday?”

He turned to look at me, confusion and recognition fighting for control. “You look familiar.”

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and flashed him a smile. “We talked about my mother.”

Confusion flickered in his eyes. “Who?”

“My mother. Andrea Baker.”

The confusion in his gaze was chased out by fear. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

I leaned in closer. “I need to know what you know about her.”

He shook his head, his eyes wide. “No.”

“Detective Bergan,” I pleaded. “Tell me about the skinny man. Did he kill my mother?”

“That man is dangerous,” he said, a moment of clarity returning to his eyes. “You need to stay far away from him.”

“If he killed my mother, then for all we know he killed other people too. Did he blackmail or threaten you to keep you from naming him as a suspect?”

Surprise washed over his face. “What do you know?”

It had been a lucky guess, but I didn’t gloat. “I need you to tell me who he is.”

“I don’t know his name. He just told me to stall the case, or he’d kill my entire family.”

“Why did he kill my mother?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she discovered something about him, and he killed her to keep her quiet. I took his threat seriously.”

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