Free Peony Street by Pamela Grandstaff Page A

number to unlock it. Her account cannot be used without that number.”
    “Can the service provider give us the text content or let us listen to the voicemails?”
    “No.”
    “I bet they could if we were the feds. If we can get that movie star boss of hers involved we could probably call in the feds.”
    Scott took a deep breath.
    “The victim landed in DC at around eight p.m.,” he said. “He rented the car at around eight-thirty. It takes at least four hours, in daylight and good weather, to get to Rose Hill from Ronald Reagan Airport. The earliest he could have arrived was half past midnight. There was thick fog all along the river so Route 1 would’ve been slow going. I figure it was closer to one or two before he got here.”
    “Maybe he waited longer to start out. Maybe he was waiting in DC for her to arrive and he followed her.”
    “Claire landed at eleven p.m.” Scott said. “The quickest she could get here was four hours, again, if the weather was perfect, which it wasn’t. She had planned to make a connecting flight to Pittsburgh at midnight and drive down, which would have brought her here by three a.m. at the soonest, but there was a storm and her connecting flight was delayed.
    “She rented a car at Reagan Airport at 11:45 p.m. She came to the fire station at four-ten. The quickest she could have driven here, in perfect weather, mind you, was four hours. If she made that good of time, that would have put her here at just before four. By the time Malcolm got to the body it was four-twenty.
    “If she killed him at 3:45 a.m., which is the earliest she could have arrived in Rose Hill, and Malcolm saw him at four-twenty, his blood would still have been flowing. Hell, he would have been warm to the touch and possibly still alive. It was 4:30 when I saw him. His skin was cold, his blood was congealed, and the onset of lividity was evident.”
    “She killed him somewhere else, brought him here, and dumped him.”
    “Sarah,” Scott said. “Patrick saw the victim’s car in front of the Thorn when he left at two a.m.”
    “That’s the bartender, right? He’s one of those Fitzpatricks you can’t walk around here without tripping over. I remember him from the Eldridge murder investigation. I seem to remember he lives in the trailer park down on Peony. Why didn’t he see the body? Doesn’t he walk home that way?”
    “He didn’t go home,” Scott said.
    “Where did he go?”
    “To the home of a local woman.”
    “Did you question her?”
    “Not yet, but I will.”
    “Maybe I should do it.”
    “You know folks around here won’t tell you anything.”
    “What’s Patrick’s relationship to the suspect?”
    “They’re cousins.”
    “Isn’t that convenient?” Sarah said. “He might have conspired with the suspect to commit and cover up the crime. He may have both cell phones.”
    “What’s the motive?” Scott replied. “The victim and Claire both worked for the same person. Claire fulfilled her contract and was coming home for a short vacation before she goes back to L.A. The last she heard from the victim he was still working for their employer and planned to stay in the UK for the foreseeable future. They had no personal relationship beyond work. She says they weren’t particularly close, had known each other less than two years, and didn’t socialize together on their own time. She doesn’t know why he came here, and until we recover one or both phones, we won’t know why either.”
    “I want to see the log again,” Sarah said.
    Scott gave her the printout.
    “So these calls and texts came from four numbers other than the victim’s: her former employer, the PR firm, the agent, and a law firm in New York,” Sarah said. “It looks like she was still receiving calls and texts up to the point when the report was printed.”
    “I’ve left messages with all of them but so far no one has returned my calls.”
    “Why would he come here without her knowledge?”
    “She