Page 30 of Half Baked

“I call bullshit,” Noah sneered, sitting back on the sofa. “You kept the evidence of all your other cases like trophies. Hell, you might as well have built a shrine to all your subversion in that storage room you rent. So there’s absolutely no way you’d destroy the hidden evidence connected to the biggest case of your career.”

Bergan swallowed, suddenly looking nervous. “You found all that?”

“Yep,” Noah gloated. “Maybe you should have burned all that stuff too before moving in here. But you didn’t. Which tells me you didn’t destroy Andrea Baker’s stuff either.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his voice dark and threatening. “So where’d you store it, Bergan?”

Bergan’s face paled. “I can’t tell you.”

“The fuck you can’t,” Noah growled. “You owe Andrea Baker justice.”

“She’s dead. She doesn’t give a shit whether she gets justice or not.”

Noah sat up and snorted in disgust. “How the hell were you ever a detective?”

“What about me?” I asked, frustrated that this man had answers and refused to give them up. “Ideserve to know what happened to my mother. You treated me like shit when I was a kid. I was orphaned, and you had absolutely no sympathy for me. You wouldn’t tell me anything about your case.”

Guilt crossed his face. “I was protecting you too.”

“The hell you were,” I sneered. “You made it pretty clear that I annoyed you when I asked questions. You weren’t subtle about not wanting to deal with me.”

“Could her killer have been part of the Brawlers?” Noah asked.

Bergan scoffed. “The Brawlers weren’t a thing back them. They started up later.”

“How soon into the investigation did the man show up?” Noah asked. “How did he approach you?”

Bergan’s upper lip curled, and I was sure he would refuse to answer again. So I was surprised when he said, “About three days into the investigation. We quietly asked questions about the necklace, and I guess the guy found out. He cornered me outside my house. Told me that my wife and kids were inside watching TV, and if he’d been inclined, he could have gone in and murdered all of them just like he’d murdered that teacher. Then he told me everything he knew about them and made his threats.” He paused, then looked me dead in the eyes. “I did what I had to do. I refuse to apologize. For any of it.”

Pain stabbed me in the heart, but anger burned it away. “If you don’t tell me where to find the evidence of my mother’s murder, I’m going to walk out of here and tell everyone who will listen that your dementia is all an act and you’ve been hiding in here to escape charges for suppressing evidence. I’ll also tell everyone in town, including the newspaper, that you told me you suppressed evidence and information regarding my mother’s case. We’ll see if the skinny man’s alive or not then.”

His face turned red. “You wouldn’t.”

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ground painfully. “Try me.”

“So either way, you’re gonna kill me and my family,” he spat.

“No,” Noah said, “if you tell us where you hid the evidence in the Andrea Baker case, we’ll keep your secret.”

Bergan drew in a breath, his chest rising as he stared out the window to the courtyard. He looked pissed, but at least he seemed to be considering my threat.

“Fine,” he grunted, swinging his gaze between us. “But you can’t let anyone other than my buddy know I told you anything.”

“If anyone asks, I’ll say I found something in the boxes from our house when my aunt and uncle packed it up after it was sold,” I interjected before Noah could say anything. “After a while, it became clear to me that you and the other assholes weren’t taking the investigation into my mother’s murder seriously,” I said bitterly. “That you were more concerned with padding your pockets than solving crimes and keeping Cockamamie safe, I decided to start my own investigation.” I narrowed my eyes. “All of which is true.”

“It’s easy to paint me out to be the bad guy when—”

“Enough of the self-justifications,” Noah snapped. “Either tell us what you know, or we’ll get up and head straight to the newspaper.”

“I really do have dementia,” Bergan seethed.

“I believe that,” I said. “My aunt has it too. She has very lucid days, then days when she thinks I’m a stranger breaking into her house. I believe you were having an episode when I saw you yesterday, but I know in my gut that you’re as clear as a bright sunny day right now. So tell us what you know and where you hid the evidence, and we’ll leave you in peace.”

His jaw worked for several moments before he said, “I gave what I had to a buddy of mine in Galena. Stewie Pitcavage. Tell him that Howie sent you, and I told him to give it to you.”

Noah’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t bullshit us. He’s not going to just hand it over.”

“Not to mention he probably thinks you’re out of it with dementia,” I added.

Bergan’s shoulders sank, making him look resigned. “He knows I have my good days and bad. But if he questions you, tell him I said he could go fuck a duck. He’ll know I really sent you.”

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