“What have you said so far?” Mike asked.
“Nothing. Basically, just that I know that the victim—Belinda. And that she’s wearing Kate’s wedding dress.”
“That’s not nothing,” Mike said. “You know better than anyone not to talk to the police. That’s what trips up half the defendants who come to my courtroom. They open their mouths and they pay the price. And the victim is someone you not onlyknowbut have a troubled history with.”
“There was no ‘troubled history’ until last night,” Conor said, but again he thought of those anonymous texts, and a brief period that had preceded them.
“Well, you certainly made up for lost time,” Mike said. “The whole room saw the fight. It was spectacular, to say the least.”
Conor felt like walking away, but he knew he had to make himself clear, just so they could move on and find Kate. “Garrett’s got it in for me. He told me his theory. He’s already decided I’m guilty, and he’s looking for facts to make them fit.”
“What’s his theory?” Mike asked.
“That I killed Belinda early this morning and came back when there were witnesses, to make sure they saw me tracking through the blood and touching the body.”
“Ah, to explain the evidence you left behind when you murdered her,” Mike said. “And does his theory include the fact you wanted to shut Belinda up? From stirring up more trouble with Kate?”
“I think the damage was already done,” Conor said.
“Well, thinking like a prosecutor, here’s another theory: Maybe you thought you were killing Kate. Considering that Belinda was wearing her dress.”
“That’s insane,” Tom said, and Conor was grateful his brother was speaking up for him. “I want to know about this house. How did Belinda wind up here?”
“Good question,” Mike said. “Years ago it was owned by friends of Anne’s and mine—the Rancourts. They spent half the year in Watch Hill, the other half in Paris. But when Geoffrey died, the kids began to fight over the estate, and the house was sold. Belinda must have known the current owners. Is that their vehicle? Check the registration.”
Conor turned to look at the navy-blue pickup truck in the driveway. For the first time, he noticed the number 1740 discreetly stenciled onto the driver’s door, encircled by prickly garland. “That nearly hit Kate yesterday—as if it were aiming for her,” he said. “You saw that, right, Tom?”
“The driver was definitely in a hurry,” Tom said.
Conor saw George beckon him toward the squad car.
“You have to find Kate for me,” he said to his brother and uncle. “Tell her they’re going to question me at headquarters.”
“Garrett is taking this ridiculously far,” Tom said. “Where’s Joe?”
“Find him, too, will you?” Conor said.
“I had assumed the questioning was pro forma, but I think you’re right. Garrett has it in for you. Give me your phone,” Mike said.
“It’s evidence,” Conor said. “They’ll want it.”
“As you well know, they will go through every call, every text, every internet search, to use against you. I’m not saying you have anything to hide, but you still don’t want the police to have it,” Mike said. “Not without a subpoena.”
“Give it to me,” Tom said sternly, holding out his hand.
Conor hesitated. What if Kate called him and he didn’t have his phone? He was a cop, and he believed in the process. He wanted tocomply with the investigation. But Garrett’s attitude was vicious, personal, and even though Conor would have to give consent—and his password—to have the contents of his phone searched, Conor didn’t want Garrett having custody of his phone at all. He sensed that Garrett was using aggression toward him as a distraction, a way of hiding something of his own.
Tom kept his hand out, and Conor eventually slapped his phone into it. Tom quickly put the phone in his back pocket.
“I’m calling a friend of mine,” Mike said. “Leo Kennedy is one of the best defense attorneys in Rhode Island, has his own firm in Providence. I’ll have him meet you at the state police barracks. Don’t talk till he gets there.”
“For the record, I have nothing to hide.”
“That doesn’t enter into the equation,” Mike said. He dialed his friend’s number. He got voicemail and left a message. Then, to Conor: “Remember. Keep your mouth shut—on the ride to headquarters and when you get there—not a word.”
7
Saturday, July 3; 11:00 a.m.
