FORTY-TWO

This time Vaughn bore no flowers. And this time he didn’t hesitate to talk about the case. The only thing was, now Payton didn’t want to talk about it. She had way more information than she wanted. She sat quietly looking out the window, the same as the last time, but now the atmosphere was different. Payton felt it, and she saw Vaughn did too.

He pulled into the parking lot at Briton’s Mini Golf and smiled over at her, the smile intended as a question. She nodded. “I haven’t played in years.”

“They have a snack bar too. I thought we could grab a little something.”

“Sounds good.”

“Maybe it’ll get this case off your mind.”

“It’s not off yours,” she said.

“No, but police work is my life.”

“And the suspects are my friends.”

“I know.”

“I thought you told me all the suspects were women.”

“I did,” he admitted.

“Then why did they arrest Aden?”

“Because he left town without letting anyone know and he didn’t contact anyone while he was gone.”

“So, he’s really not a suspect?”

“That I’m not sure about.” His tone said he wasn’t happy about this. He undid his seat belt and watched it slide back into the slot. “Sergeant Espinoza says you’ve been investigating.”

Payton shrugged.

“You could have asked me what you wanted to know.”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about it. Besides, you told me you weren’t privy to the case.”

“I’ve had some of my own questions,” he said. “Like what was Amanda doing out walking after midnight the night before the murder?”

What? “Did you ask her?”

“She said she couldn’t sleep.”

“With all her problems trying to keep Edward from finding out about the painting, I’m not surprised,” Payton said.

“But Edward already knew by then.”

“I heard he and Sean fought. Where did it happen?”

Vaughn ran a hand across his sweaty forehead then opened the pickup door. “You mean like, did Edward meet up with him on the street?”

“Right, or seek him out at the café? Find him on his boat? Where they met could be very important.”

“The night they fought, Sean was at the marina preparing his boat for the race.”

“So it probably happened down on the dock,” Payton said.

Vaughn nodded.

“The poisoning had to be planned in advance. Which means Edward would’ve had the container of monkshood paste with him.”

“Right. Not sure you know it or not, he passed a polygraph.”

“Did they find any DNA evidence on MaryAnn?”

“The waves pretty much washed the deck clean.”

Payton opened her door. Cool air pushed in, raising goosebumps on her arms. “The waves didn’t wash the poison residue off the ropes though, right?”

“No. They retrieved good samples.”

“Would someone have to be well versed in plant knowledge to have done this?”

“You kidding?” Vaughn laughed. “These days anyone with a computer can get information to do anything. Or anyone who watches CSI.”

She laughed and got out of the car. Several couples were golfing. They laughed and joked as though without a care in the world.

Vaughn beat her two games to one. They stopped for a break and had steamed hotdogs with chili on top. The chili was a five-alarm batch Payton wasn’t prepared for. The first bite sent her into spasms of coughing. Vaughn handed her a cold drink. It took several minutes, but she finally recovered.

Later, he beat her another two games. Then he took her to the A&W for root beer floats. Vaughn walked her to the door and once again didn’t go in when she invited him. He planted a kiss on her cheek, a little closer to her lips than the previous time. Payton wondered how many dates before he actually kissed her full on the lips.

Aden’s car was still in his driveway; his lights were still off. As far as she knew, the 48-hour period during which authorities could hold a suspect was just about up. Maybe they were planning to charge him with Sean’s murder. Would Vaughn have told her?

Vaughn was serious about his job. He was down to earth, friendly to everyone and accessible, showing up inside shops instead of passing them by during his rounds.

As Payton picked up and greeted the meowing Maggie, a thought struck. Vaughn had access to the shops. Meaning he had access to the monkshood plant. Vaughn knew what sort of person Sean was; they’d grown up together. Maybe Vaughn was one of the kids Sean tormented. He was on duty the night the poison had been applied to the ropes.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it lodged like a car in a Minneapolis traffic jam. She poured a generous glass of Chablis and took it out on the patio, settling Maggie in her lap. But this was Maggie’s first time outdoors and soon she wasn’t content just sitting. After receiving a warning not to get lost, she was set on the ground to explore.

Could Vaughn be a murderer? Payton shook her head. It couldn’t be.

Possibly the box held an incriminating envelope with Vaughn’s “date” on it. She retrieved the kitten, who obviously didn’t want her explorations curtailed, and went inside. “You can go out again tomorrow,” she told the cat, shut the door and set Maggie on the floor. The kitten went back to the door and meowed. Payton ignored her and went to the pantry.

The next envelope was dated August 22, 1996. This held no invoices or newspaper clippings. It contained three handwritten pages documenting the real estate deal gone bad between Sean and Sylvie. Payton settled on the kitchen stool, sipping wine and stumbling over Sean’s scribbled penmanship, trying to figure what it meant. The other envelopes contained sales Sean made, or news articles about events in which he’d been involved. But this seemed to be a record, more like a note to himself. Then Payton realized—this was information for future reference, possible evidence for blackmail.

Had Sean presented the evidence to Sylvie? It would be a perfect motive for murder.

The next envelope was dated April 4, 1997. This Payton recognized immediately. It was the day he and MaryAnn married. Inside were copies of her driver’s license, birth certificate and social security card and a scribbled note saying he’d paid $5,000 for them. From whom, the note didn’t say. She sipped wine and thought about MaryAnn, having to live with the fear of being deported. Having to accept his philandering with stoic silence. Taking his abuse with grace. Had she finally grown sick of it all? It just didn’t fit. MaryAnn had been so happy to finally be moving out on her own.

Maybe, seeing her bags packed turned the divorce into a reality for Sean. Up till then it had been just talk. She was saving money and someday would leave him. Now it was real. Would he accept this with just a shrug of his shoulders? Payton didn’t think so. The little boy in him needed her. MaryAnn accepted him for what he was.

Payton poured more wine and went for another envelope, not at all liking what she was thinking. This was dated December 24, 1999. Christmas Eve. The only thing inside was a sales invoice to a woman named Ann in the amount of $17,500. There was no address or notation as to what she’d bought. More blackmail evidence? Payton slipped the paper back in the envelope and returned the envelopes to the box.

Payton called Maggie, still sitting at the sliding door. Payton scooped her up. “You can go out again tomorrow. It’s after midnight and we’re going to bed now.”