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69
I SPOTTED OLAF standing on the far edge of the yard near the street with its line of bright blue state trooper cars. The crowd of police shifted, and I could see Edward with him. I could tell that Olaf was upset, but if I hadn’t known him so well, I might have thought he looked calm, just like Livingston had. It was Edward who seemed calm to me, but he was clearly trying to talk to Olaf in a serious way. They were framed by the crowd of civilians that had started gathering outside the perimeter of police. Once I would have thought it was the neighbors, but there were far too many people for this one small street. There were always more people at crime scenes than you could explain. I never understood where they all came from, and people had been gathering at crime scenes long before the Internet made it easy to spread the word about every damn thing.
Muriel was screaming inside one of the police cars, pushing herself against the window. Her husband sat quietly in the car behind her. Newman was talking to Duke to one side of the cars. They seemed intense but calm. The bad guys were all tucked away, so I walked toward Edward and Olaf to see if I could help Edward talk the big guy down or out of whatever he was upset about.
I was partway to them when there was a commotion in the civilian crowd. A tall woman was trying to push past the police line. She was dressed in white, which made her stand out in the crowd even more than her height. I mean, she wasn’t Olaf tall, but she was over six feet. She had large round white-framed sunglasses that hid her face, so at first, I didn’t recognize her. It wasn’t until the crowd parted for her and she bent low over the policeman who seemed to be listening to her that I realized it was Jocelyn Marchand. Honestly, if I hadn’t had her mother’s face in my head from years ago, I might not have recognized her, but with the glasses covering the brown of her eyes, she looked like her mother’s ghost since she was dressed all in white.
Sheriff Leduc must have recognized her, too, because he was walking that way. He made a small gesture at the officer who was holding her back, so he stepped aside. She strode forward on strappy stiletto heels that put a sway into her narrow hips that made her short skirt flare out and swirl around her with every long-legged step. Seeing her in a hospital bed hadn’t prepared me for how long and shapely her legs were. I wasn’t normally a leg person, but they seemed to lead straight up to that swirl of oh-so-short skirt like it was an exclamation point aimed at the swell of her hips and everything else that lay just under the narrow, dancing hem of her skirt. As she sashayed across the street, I realized it was more than just clothes, makeup, and hair. She knew how to move for maximum effect. I wasn’t the only one who watched her with my head on a swivel as she met the sheriff in the middle of the pavement.
In her heels she was actually tall enough that she had to lean over for him to speak low to her. I couldn’t see her eyes, but at a certain point, her shoulders stiffened, and I would have bet money that her eyes had widened behind the big sunglasses. She looked toward the police cars with her aunt and uncle in them, and then she opened that perfectly lipsticked mouth and yelled, “Aunt Muriel, how could you do that?” She took a suddenly shaking step toward the cars. “Uncle Todd, how could you kill Dad? How could you frame Bobby? You made me think he killed our dad!”
She slapped the window of the car that held Todd, and he winced visibly as if the blow had touched him. If we could get him away from his wife, he’d talk. He felt guilty, and that made you do stupid things like talking without your lawyer.
Jocelyn moved to the car with Muriel in it. Muriel didn’t flinch when her window got slapped. Her head was turned away from me, so she was looking at her niece. I wished I could have seen Muriel’s face, because whatever her expression was, it made Jocelyn press her hands flat against the window and bring her face close as if she wanted to push through the glass and get to the other woman.
“I knew you were coldhearted, Muriel, but how could you kill your own brother? How could you take our dad away from us? Framing Bobby for it, you evil bitch!”
We were all watching the show, but as if the insult was a signal, Leduc moved close to Jocelyn and started trying to soothe her or at least get her away from the cars. He took her elbow and got her onto the sidewalk so the cars could drive off. The Babingtons were going to someplace bigger and far less hometown friendly than the local jail.
The sheriff kept a hand on Jocelyn’s elbow as if he didn’t trust her not to run after the cars or throw something. I couldn’t really blame her. I walked over to them. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk to her or what, but I didn’t understand why she’d lied to people about her sexual relationship with Bobby. It had made me like her for the murder, but maybe that was my issue with her trying to gaslight Bobby. I really wanted to understand why she’d done it, but it really wasn’t any of my business anymore. We had our bad guys on their way to jail. The beautiful liar standing in front of me hadn’t done anything to bring me down on her legally.
She was talking to Leduc. “I can’t believe I let them convince me that Bobby had done that to . . . Dad.”
“They fooled all of us, Joshie.”
“Jocelyn,” she corrected him automatically with no change in expression.
“Jocelyn. I keep forgetting that you’re not the little girl I met all those years ago.”
I’d heard people say that all my life, but I’d seen the family photos, and I didn’t understand how someone could genuinely not see the difference between the little girl and this tall, statuesque beauty in front of us. Forgetting how old someone was, fine, but literally not seeing the difference when it was this stark, I didn’t understand.
“I’m so glad that the marshal didn’t execute Bobby. That would have made all of this even worse.” Jocelyn buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as if she was crying. With the glasses on, it was hard to tell how many tears were actually flowing. I realized I still didn’t like her. She was gorgeous, but pretty is as pretty does, and she’d told people that Bobby was stalking her, abusing her, rather than admit that she was having a sexual relationship with him. I understood the incest taboo, but her lies had made the case against Bobby stronger. I wasn’t going to be able to forgive that. If someone is good enough to fuck, then they’re good enough to admit you’re fucking them. If not, then you probably shouldn’t be fucking them in the first place.
Newman came up to them. “I’m glad, too, Jocelyn. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d executed Bobby and then we found out that he was innocent.”
Jocelyn flung her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him like she was trying to melt through to his spine. He looked startled, but it’s always hard when someone hugs you not to hug them back, so he put his arms around her, patting her awkwardly. Then her legs collapsed. She had passed out cold, and if I hadn’t come in to help Newman, they’d have both gone down. He was strong enough to hold her up, but it’s surprisingly hard to catch someone unless you’re ready for it.
We laid her down in the back of one of the police cars while we waited for the a
mbulance to come and take her back to the hospital. Livingston had his female officers sit with Jocelyn until the paramedics arrived.
Leduc called over to us, “Marshals, can you join us over here for a minute?”
He was standing with Livingston near the front steps of the house. Newman and Deputy Rico were already with them. No one looked very happy. Since we’d just solved the worst homicide this county had had in decades, something else had happened. As we walked toward the knot of men, I fought the urge to ask, Now what? Olaf fell into step with us before we reached them. He didn’t mention anything personal, and neither did we. We were going to be professional until all the police work was done. Good to know.
70
“CARMICHAEL TRIED TO kill himself,” Leduc said.
“The live-in caretaker for the Marchands, that Carmichael?” I asked.
He nodded.
Livingston said, “He was found at a local motel just a few minutes ago. Looks like that’s where he’s been hiding since the murder.”
“Is he going to make it?” Rico asked.
“The doctors don’t know yet.”
