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“But there were debts to pay,” Brogan pointed out. “Every estate has them.”
“But why didn’t Pollock try harder to find Elliott? He never bothered to set aside money for a reward to find his nephew. Couldn’t he have at least made an effort? Instead, Pollock waits twenty years to learn the truth? I’m not buying it.”
“He did say he hired other investigators but came to the conclusion that all of them were inept.”
“It was a lie. Jack couldn’t find verifiable proof of that. Why are you making excuses for this jerk?”
“I’m not. I’m pointing out that he did just enough to make it look good.”
“Oh. Well, that’s true enough.”
“The entire case bothers me. We shouldn’t forget the ties to whatever Bruce and Betty Lombardi were up to back in New Jersey. Why did they need to run to Reno and change their name? Eerie. The Dolworths certainly had an unusual family history for an ordinary little family of three. But why would someone from the Lombardis’ past wait years to get their revenge on Mack and Anna?”
“Maybe they only found the Lombardis in 2001,” Lucien prompted. “By that time, Bruce and Betty had aged. They took their revenge out on the son.”
“See? It’s weird how this family could have so many secrets locked in the vault.”
“It just means more suspects.”
“Okay. So we need to find a killer with big feet who wears size thirteen shoes.”
“I hate to break it to you, but those bootprints might belong to Mack.”
“Let’s eliminate him then and find out his shoe size. Do you remember if Pollock had big feet?”
A shadow of disillusionment danced across Lucien’s face. “Damn. Not size thirteens, not even close. This case is unraveling before our eyes. It’s driving me nuts.”
“Maybe we should step back for tonight. Give it a rest until morning.”
“Good idea. It’s been an exhausting day. Let’s take the dogs for a walk, then head to bed.”
As soon as Stella heard the word walk, the greyhound got to her feet, stretched, and yawned.
“Come on, girl,” Lucien said, slapping his thigh before taking down two leashes from the peg. “Let’s head out to pee.”
Ahead of the dogs, Brogan stepped out into a moonlit night and ran smack into the Chief of Police Brent Cody. Startled at the contact, she stumbled backward. Brent reached out to catch her before she fell.
“I’m sorry,” Brent began, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was out walking our new puppy before bedtime and saw your light on from the beach. I wanted to talk to you about the Dolworth case.”
Brogan recovered quickly and dismissed the seriousness of the visit. Instead, she opted to drop down on one knee to play with the little dog she recognized as another of Mia’s puppies. “This is an Australian shepherd mix. What’s her name?”
“The boys named her Saylor. Don’t ask me why. Cord Bennett is on a mission to find a home for every dog in his shelter. My wife River was a soft sell. But look who’s out walking him at ten o’clock at night. That tells you who runs things at our house.”
Lucien chuckled. “Gotta keep those pups happy along with the wife. You wanna come in or talk out here on the patio?”
“Out here is fine. Maybe Saylor will get the message and do her business before we settle down for the night. So far, she’s clueless about what nighttime walks are for.” Brent plopped down on one end of the outdoor seating while Lucien sat across from him.
“The thing I need to get off my chest about the Dolworth case might help you in the coming days. You are working on it, right?”
“Small towns,” Lucien said with a grin.
“Not exactly. I have a history with the Sheriff’s Department. Although the Dolworth case happened several years before I started at the county, now and then, I’d catch rumors about Rivkin closing the case with an unorthodox theory.”
Lucien shifted in his chair and leaned forward. “You know Kenneth Rivkin?”
“I not only know him, but I was also his boss during my tenure as sheriff. While he floated this ridiculous theory about a fourteen-year-old shooter, who disappeared with little Elliott on a bike, nobody gave it credence. Not me. Not the other detectives. But Rivkin was under tremendous pressure to solve the case the year I arrived at the department. Trey Rescher was an easy fix.”
“Sorry, Brent, but I have to ask. If you knew the killer wasn’t Trey, why didn’t you fix that when you were sheriff?”
