Murder at Lost Lake: An Inspector Hilary Casgrain Murder Mystery (An Elk Ridge Murder Mystery Book 3) by Anne Shillolo

Author:Anne Shillolo [Shillolo, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-EIGHT

Looking across the table at the beleaguered teen, I said, “Hello, Garrett. I appreciate you staying for a brief chat. And I’m sorry to intrude, once again.”

He got up, took a soda from the fridge, and slurped it straight from the can. “It’s all right,” he mumbled. “I know I have to deal with things.”

He stopped mid-gulp. “Wait. Did you catch the guy?”

“Sorry. Not yet. How was your day?”

He looked as though he was holding back a four-letter word. Instead, he replied, “Terrible. More of the same.”

I said, “Have a seat. Let’s go one step at a time. Can I ask if you had any further calls from Church Mining staff or board members?”

“Both. I feel like tossing my phone in the Hay River, but then I couldn’t talk to my friends. Not to mention, somehow a bunch of reporters got hold of my number. What do they think I’m going to say? I had to start switching the phone off in class. Some of the teachers hate them and won’t cut you any slack.”

I studied him. “How many people would you text or call each day?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a couple dozen friends? Plus a few teachers who use online modules for part of the course. And the coaches. They post practice and game schedules and reminders.”

“Sounds good. Here’s what you do. As soon as I leave, head out to the plaza and buy a burner phone. You know what that is?”

He looked at me in fascination. “Yeah.”

“Get your key numbers and load them onto the new phone. On your original device, record a polite voice mail message. Something like, This is the phone of Garrett Church. I’m not monitoring my calls at the present time for personal reasons. Thank you for your understanding. Change the setting so the phone can’t take messages. Plug it into a charger in your grandfather’s study and leave it there until you feel ready to use it again. Oh, and text me your new number the minute you get it.”

He looked over, open-mouthed. “Brilliant.”

Then, he gave a bitter laugh. “It won’t take me long to set up. A couple of dozen numbers? That would have been before the shooting. This whole mess sure shows you who your real friends are. It’s gone beyond joking around. I swear half the school is now positive I killed Granddad and won’t speak to me, and the other half doesn’t want to get too close. Just in case. That burner is probably only going to have a handful of contacts on it. And that’s after I add you and Charlie.”

I frowned. This was troubling. Teenagers could be so cruel. At this critical time in his life, Garrett needed support and companionship, not isolation. But I didn’t see what I could do about the situation, other than find the real killer.

I shook off my concern. Back to business. Taking out my own phone to make some notes, I asked, “Can you give me the names of everyone other than your friends who called today?”

He recited a list and then checked his call log.

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