Page 22 of Murder in The Summer House

“The neighborhood would’ve been quiet at five-thirty,” Lucien prompted. “Poor kid had no idea what he was walking into, not a clue.

“That’s true. But then Trey spots the man with the gun and realizes this is not a good situation for either of them. Trey knows he’s got to get them out of there fast. So he grabs the kid and takes off for the woods. But the killer won’t stop until both witnesses are out of the picture. That’s the reality. At least that’s how I see it going down,” Beckett finished.

“So you’ll help us find this guy?” Brogan queried.

“Kelly and I will help you for free,” Beckett declared. “This is a case that needs solving. And when I relay all this to Birk and Jade, I’m certain they’ll feel the same way. Just tell us what you want us to do, how you want us to proceed.”

6

Before ending the night, Lucien divvied up a list of things he wanted Kelly and Beckett to do. “Brogan and I did a deed history on the house. On the night of the murders, Riley Cutler owned the summer house. But she’d only been the owner for less than six months after inheriting the property from her mother, Melodie Cutler, who died of cancer. Let’s find out if there’s any way the killer could’ve been after the mother or daughter. Maybe there was a dispute ramping up over ownership or something.”

“That’s a good avenue to explore,” Kelly said, eagerly making notes on her iPad. “Do we know where Riley is now?”

Brogan shook her head. “Maybe you can locate her. I find it strange that Riley sold the property shortly after the murders to her mother’s former boyfriend, a man by the name of Harley Bassett.”

Beckett arched a brow. “Not Vollaway Holdings? See? I did read everything Lucien sent me over dinner.”

“Vollaway Holdings didn’t enter the picture until late 2003,” Lucien explained. “This Harley Bassett had the house for eighteen months and used it as a gathering place for his friends. Gerald Rescher described it as a drug den. Whether it’s accurate or not, everyone in the neighborhood complained about the house. The neighbors even called the police more than sixty times during that year and a half. By the time Vollaway Holdings bought it, Harley Bassett and his friends had trashed the interior. That info came from Gerald, too.”

Kelly looked up from her iPad. “So you’re saying that Riley Cutler dumped the property on the mother’s old boyfriend? That’s weird. Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable living there because of the murders.”

Brogan tucked her legs under her, adjusting her position on the sofa. “I’d understand that if Riley Cutler ever lived there. But according to Susan Rescher, she didn’t. Riley lived in Monterey with a professional golfer she’d met a year earlier. Susan thought Riley sold the house and used the money from the sale to move somewhere overseas. I mention all this because it’s important to keep an open mind. As implausible as it sounds, the Dolworths might not have been the intended victims. Beckett’s three scenarios, remember? If drug dealers were involved, we need to know details on anyone who lived at that address.”

“Agreed,” Lucien emphasized. “Trying to solve a cold case this old, we should have all the facts about that property. We’ve seen twists and turns before. Not everything is how it appears up front.”

Beckett nodded. “The paperboy angle has me stumped. Unless he was a witness, I don’t see how this involves Trey. We need to clear his name once and for all.”

“That’s why we’re hoping the GPR will yield their bodies. I know how that sounds. But at least we’d be able to take Trey Rescher out of the equation and eliminate him from the suspect list for the cops. That’s the only way we’ll get their attention.”

“Can we go through the box of stuff that the client dropped off?” Kelly asked. “I need the entirety of what you have.”

“Absolutely. Let’s head to the office upstairs. You don’t have to read it all tonight. You can make copies of anything to read later if you want,” Brogan offered. “The detective’s name was Kenneth Rivkin. From what we can decipher in his notes, Rivkin didn’t even check out Anna’s brother, Matthew, who had a gambling problem and deep ties to Las Vegas. That matches what Gerald told us.” She held up a hand. “Not that I’m suggesting we go down the mobster hole. However, Matthew Pollock died at the Hard Rock Hotel almost a year after the murders. Either he crawled over the railing on the eleventh floor, or somebody tossed him over it. I suppose it’s possible he committed suicide.”

“But doubtful,” Lucien added. “According to Gerald Rescher, Matt still had cash in his bank account from his sister’s estate. So he didn’t have money troubles from his gambling.”

Beckett scrubbed a hand down his face. “See? This case has too many bizarre things attached to it that don’t smell right to me. A thorough investigation means digging into the mobster hole. How far down we dig is another matter to be determined later.”

“I want to see the file,” Kelly urged as she followed Brogan upstairs. “With all these weird angles, blaming a teenage paperboy is the ultimate strange turn of events. When I first read Lucien’s text that Trey was just fourteen, I thought it had to be a typo. I ranted all through dinner. Ask Beckett. It’s not because a fourteen-year-old killer is unheard of—juveniles have killed before—we all know that. But to put all this on a paperboy peddling his route that morning is as weird as it gets. Of all the unusual stuff I keep hearing about these murders, that tops it for me.”

“It must be a female thing,” Brogan concluded. “It’s what set me off too.”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “It’s not a female thing. Didn’t I just say we should take this case because it’s clear the cops got it wrong?”

When they reached the upstairs office, Brogan flipped on the lights. “Take all the time you need. There’s a fridge under the desk if you need water. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen with Gavin, trying to convince him not to sleep in the car.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lucien said. “He seemed skeptical about the offer. You’ll probably need backup.”

In the kitchen,Gavin was in the middle of drying the last of the cake pans when they walked in. Brogan took the dish towel out of his hands. “Sit,” she ordered.

“What did I do?” he asked as he pulled out a chair at the table and sat.

“Other than make tonight a resounding success?” Brogan quipped. “You’re a talented pastry chef. Do you like chauffeuring snotty, ungrateful celebrities around from Point A to Point B?”

Gavin looked startled. “How am I supposed to answer that?”

“You think we don’t know my father is an insufferable prick sometimes?” Lucien retorted. “Because we know that, have for a very long time. But it doesn’t mean you have to sleep in the car. Tonight, you did a nice thing for us. Let us return the favor. Take advantage of our guest bedroom, no strings attached. It’s only for one night.”

“Sure. Okay. If you don’t think Mr. Sutter will get mad about it.”

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