March Street Mystery (March Street Cozy Mystery Box Sets Book 1) by Estelle Richards

Author:Estelle Richards [Richards, Estelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-07-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

The next morning, nerves still unsettled, I went to the police station. Officer Williams showed me right into Maxwell’s office. Maxwell looked up in surprise.

“I didn’t expect to see you this early.”

I shrugged uncomfortably. “Something still feels off about the case.”

Maxwell shuffled through a stack of paper in his inbox. “Could be you recognized our phony Fremont Cunningham.”

He came up with the page he was looking for and slid it across the desk. It was a scientific report on a DNA test. I scanned down the sheet, trying to make sense of it.

“What am I looking at?” I finally asked.

“We did a DNA test on the deceased. Got some interesting results.”

“Hmm.” I studied the page more closely. “Francis Rourke, prison record in Illinois. Is that how he knew O’Leary?”

“We think so. But look at the bottom of the page. Place of birth.”

I looked, and did a double take. “Starling? But that’s only twenty miles down the road.”

“He’s local. Or he was. Graduated from Starling High School, shortly before they consolidated into Marchville Unity.”

When Maxwell and I were in high school, Starling still had its own school, and Marchville Unity High School was still just Marchville High. By the time Maxwell’s kid sister had graduated, it was Marchville Unity.

I considered Francis Rourke’s face when I’d seen him on stage as Fremont Cunningham. I have a good memory for faces, especially if I’ve drawn them, but I didn’t think I had seen Rourke before.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s it. Does he still have any local ties?”

Maxwell tilted his head. “Does it matter? We have our perp.”

“Did O’Leary confess?”

Maxwell took the DNA results page back from me and put it back in his inbox. “No. He’s still lying to us. Claims Rourke was alive when he last saw him.”

“What if he’s not lying?”

“Kelly – how do I put this – you’re not a cop. Criminals lie. That’s what they do.”

I felt my face heating up. “You’re making assumptions. There could still be a killer out there.”

Maxwell straightened the edges of the papers in his inbox, not looking me in the eye.

“Please, dig a little deeper. You have to notify Rourke’s next of kin, right? We could start there.”

Maxwell sighed. “Fine. But I’ll have you know this is police time that could be spent investigating a dispute about trash can placement on Cherry Street.”

I laughed, a surge of relief in my breast. “Thanks, Maxwell.” I stood up.

“And you can sit back down. If I’m going to work on this, you can very well stay and help out.”

“Fine, I will.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

We stared at each other a second, holding back a laugh at ourselves.

The door opened and Officer Williams stuck his head in. “Chief, you should see this.”

We followed Williams out of the office and into a little room with a media cart set up like I remembered from school, a heavy TV on the top shelf and a DVD player and VCR on the lower shelf.

Williams picked up a remote control and pressed play.

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