Page 82 of Murder on the Boardwalk

“Not anymore. I’m tired of looking at this monster. Get her out of my sight. Take her back to her cell, where she belongs. Then tell Colt to bring in Marshall.”

“You got it. Plunkett’s after Marshall, right?” Eastlyn said for effect.

“In that order. Any bets on who breaks first?”

Back home, Broganand Lucien rolled the farm table out to the end of the driveway and began stocking it with fresh fruit and vegetables.

They’d made at least a dozen trips back and forth carrying baskets from the garden and orchard when Lucien’s phone dinged with a message from Brent. “Anyone who had Richie in the pool won the jackpot. Once the guy started talking, he couldn’t shut up. Brent said he was in there for four hours verifying everything Patty said. Richie swears he’ll be the prosecution’s star witness.”

“Let’s be grateful that Richie’s account matched up to Patty’s. But if Richie caved, my guess is Tazzie and Dennis will take a plea deal before Thanksgiving.”

“Doesn’t seem fair, but you’re probably right. And get this, Richie admitted that it wasn’t his wife who gave him the blackeye.”

“Let me guess. Tazzie.”

“You got it. According to him, Tazzie has been bullying Richie since third grade. And they’ve been having an affair for two years. What kind of sick person has an affair with someone who bullies them?”

“They’re both sick. It looks like I’ll be going to every parole board hearing if that’s what it takes to keep them locked up. I wasn’t kidding about that. We’ve worked on some weird cases before, but this one broke my heart. Finding out Vera Lockhart had a string of secret identities, bodies piling up, then realizing another killer lived two doors down from her on that same street boggles the mind.”

“And we were afraid of offending the neighbors,” Lucien cracked.

“Exactly. Plus, Regina’s mother ticked me off. Forty-five years went by, and she never tried to look for that girl. Even an alcoholic should care enough to file a missing person’s report. We’ve had our issues with parents growing up, but that tops everything we’ve seen.”

“You think you have it bad until you hear about someone else’s grief. Look how traumatized Patty is. On the one hand, I was angry she didn’t do the right thing. This case didn’t need to languish for decades when Patty had the answers all along. But on the other hand, she was fourteen, a scared kid who shouldn’t have been out that night. What would you have done if you’d been in her shoes?”

“I know. Patty was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But then, so was Regina. It’s a tough call to make when you’re that young—looking back through what-ifs doesn’t do anyone any good. If Regina hadn’t headed off to California—”

“It’s what headstrong teenagers do.”

“I guess. Could you grab the mail for me? I’m looking for DIY transfers I ordered online. You know, the ones I showed you that go on that old trunk belonging to Dad. I decided to pair some of his old sheet music—doodles mostly, that I saved out of his office—with colorful music-themed rub-on transfers to decorate the outside. But they’re taking way too long to get here.”

“When did you order them?”

“A week ago.”

Lucien went over to the mailbox and peered inside. “Maybe this is what you’re looking for. There’s a large envelope here from Northern California Designs.”

“That’s it,” she said, grabbing the envelope and ripping it open. “Won’t these look super cool on Dad’s old trunk sitting next to the fireplace?”

When he didn't reply, she realized he’d ripped open a legal-sized brown envelope and seemed immersed in what was inside. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my DNA results from that private lab in San Sebastian. Yours is here, too.” He held up another envelope.

“And?”

“If I’m reading this genealogy tree correctly, it says I have a familial match to a brother living in San Diego.”

“Let me see that,” Brogan said, scanning the paper and the details. “His name’s Evan Sanders. His mother is listed as Daniella Hudson. Ever heard of her?”

“Nope.”

“You said something like this might happen. How did you know?”

“I was guessing. Graeme will probably disown me when he finds out.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know.”

“Maybe. But if Dad knows, he’ll automatically think I’ve gone behind his back and snooped into his business. And you know how he feels about that.”

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