More Heat Than Light: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 4 Read online

  I pulled up the first story and gave it a quick scan, but it ended up being nothing more than a reworded recap of the event.

  The second piece, however, caught my eye right from the get-go. The article focused on Erlichman’s assault victim, a young man named Richie Pace. It wasn’t the words that got my attention, but a pair of photographs associated with the story. The first shot showed Pace lying in a hospital bed, head and face wrapped in bandages like you’d expect to see on a trick-or-treater during Halloween.

  And the second: a snapshot taken on a better day, Pace wearing a large pack on his back while standing next to a bicycle. On his red shirt in big white letters: News Cycle Courier Service.

  I popped out of my chair, plugged my tablet into the printer, and made a hard copy of the entire piece, photos included. I ripped the last page away from the device before it had a chance to finish spitting out the sheet of paper then headed downstairs. “Be back in a bit,” I said as I passed the living room, bound for my car.

  Once on the road, I placed a call to Matthew Brown down at the Bridgeport Gazette. One ring, followed by the usual leave-a-message mumbo jumbo. I ended the call. I was going to pay a visit to the newspaper, either way.

  It was close to 1:30 pm, the traffic in and around Bridgeport light now that the lunch crowd had returned to work. Still a few minutes away from the downtown area, I decided to give James a call and get an update concerning his time with Corey Anders.

  Straight to voicemail.

  I was about to leave a message when my private cell phone began ringing. I ended the call to James and answered the other device. “This is Carter.”

  “Hey. It’s Matty Brown. You just try calling me?”

  I was confused that he’d reached me on this phone till I remembered I’d given him the private number when we last met. “Yeah. You at the paper right now?”

  “I am, but I’ll be heading out shortly,” Brown said.

  “Sit tight until I get there, would you?” I asked. “I’m a minute away.”

  “Yeah, all right.”

  * * *

  I bounded up the stairs two at a time, once inside the Gazette, to find Matty Brown pacing back and forth. He stood still as he saw me rush in. “Thought you said a minute?”

  “Give me a break,” I said, slightly out of breath. “I had to park.”

  “You got something for me this time?” he asked.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t.”

  Brown pushed past me and headed down the stairs.

  “C’mon, man, this is important,” I said as I pursued him.

  “What happened to that whole song and dance about me helping you, then me getting a heads-up when you had something? That is what you said, right?”

  “I did say that. And I meant it.”

  “Well, it’s your turn, so why is it that you’re the one asking me for something again so soon? This relationship is already looking a lot like a one-way street.”

  I pulled my wallet out and peeled off two $50 bills. “This make it look any less one-way?”

  “Maybe,” he said, snapping the cash out of my hand before I had a chance to ask him a single question. “What do you want from me this time?”

  I unfolded the copies I’d made of the article, showed him the photographs, and studied his face for a reaction. There was no question in my mind he recognized the kid. “Is this kid Pace the bicycle courier friend you spoke of who supplied the scoop on Amanda Enright and James Coughlin?”

  “Depends,” Brown said. “Tell me why the answer to that question is so important to you. What’s the deal?”

  I looked him in the eyes then snatched the $50 bills back out of his hand. “You want my cash, you answer my question. That, my friend, is the deal.”

  “That’s it? You just want me to tell you whether or not he’s my source? That’s all you want to know?” Brown asked.

  “Why’d Erlichman lose it on your buddy, Richie Pace?”

  I watched Brown move toward one of the benches installed along the sidewalk. I followed, sat down, and pulled out my notebook.

  “Look, if I play ball with you on this one, I risk losing a great resource,” Brown said. “Not only that, I might cause more trouble for Richie. That said, a hundred bucks isn’t going to cut it. Make it three.”

  I gave the kid a long, hard stare, then shook my head as I pulled my wallet out and produced four more $50 bills. “Half now, half when I’m satisfied.”

  “Done,” Brown said as he pocketed the cash. “You remember me telling you about Richie being a man-whore, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, Richie saw this girl out in front of Erlichman’s building. Kept seeing her, like three days in a row. Real hottie, too. I had to laugh, because Richie said he was a little intimidated by her. Which isn’t like this kid at all. So, third day she calls him over and asks if he wants to grab a beer later that night. Of course, they go. And they hit it off real well. They end up going out three or four more times. He’s really into her at this point. But … she keeps shutting down his best moves. He just can’t seem to close the deal and get this girl in the sack.”

  “What’s this girl’s name?” I asked.

  “C’mon, you going to let me finish the story, or what? Because you’re going to want to hear this.”

  I held both my hands up. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “So, she hits Richie with a proposition. Tells him she’ll give him what he wants if he’ll do something for her first. He’s stoked, and asks what she wants from him. Just one thing, she says. Find out what Herod Erlichman is holding over Amanda Enright’s head that has her so freaked-out.”

  “Hold on, let me catch up,” I said as I handed him the three remaining $50 bills. I looked up a few seconds later and he continued.

  “At first, he was like, I’m not going to find information like that just laying around. Oh well, she says. Too bad, then. He really likes this girl so he gives in. Wouldn’t you know? The lucky slider hits Erlichman’s office while Herod’s out on one of his famous liquid-lunch benders. And right there, sitting on top of old Herod’s desk, is a layout with the entire scoop about Enright and the televangelist.”

  “That’s … wow.”

  “Yeah, wow is right,” Brown said. “Richie’s been getting with this girl ever since. Well, until he ended up in the hospital, that is.”

  “Erlichman found out it was Richie who leaked the story?”

  “Right.”

  I nodded. “So, why did Richie give you such specific instructions about how and when to leak the scoop?”

  “Kayla told him to.”

  I felt my jaw go slack. “Kayla Brock?” I asked.

  “Wait, you know this girl?”

  I let the revelation sink in for a moment. “One other question,” I said. “What day and date did Richie discover the scoop in Herod Erlichman’s office?”

  “Uh … I’d have to go back into my logs and check, if you need to know the exact day,” Brown said. “But I can tell you, here and now, it was well over a week ago.”

  Chapter 25

  “Hey, Carter. I was just about to give you a shout,” Detective James said as he answered my call.

  “You at the station?” I asked.

  “I am.”

  “I’m just leaving The Gazette now,” I said. “Be there in a couple of minutes.”

  I racked my brain to recall every detail I could concerning Kayla Brock as I drove toward the police station. What had she said or done that might help explain her actions?

  The harder I pushed myself to think, the less my brain seemed to yield.

  I shook my head as I pulled into the PD lot for about the 20th time in three days. I was fairly sure I’d spent more time here over the last 72 hours than I had at my own home.

  I found James at his desk when I got inside. “What have you got?” he asked.

  “Might be nothing, but I think it might be helpful to question Corey Anders again. Maybe he can shed some l
ight on this one.”

  “I haven’t questioned him yet,” James said. “I wanted to let him stew a little more. His lawyer left the station about 10 minutes ago. Doubt he’s going to be impressed if I call and tell him he needs to come back now.”

  “Probably not,” I said.

  “You going to clue me in, or what?”

  “Kayla Brock slept with the kid Herod Erlichman shoved through the window in exchange for information on Enright.”

  “We talking about the bike messenger kid down in Boston?” James asked.

  “Yep. Kayla persuaded him to find out what Erlichman was holding over Enright’s head.”

  James shook his head. “To what end? To protect Amanda, maybe?”

  “It’s possible. Maybe they were trying to get out ahead of the story.”

  James began squeezing his jaw. “So, you think the information I got from my CI knuckleheads about Erlichman sleeping with the kid’s girlfriend was bogus?”

  “Maybe it got twisted around from too many mouths passing it along. Like that game ‘Operator’ we used to play when we were kids.”

  “Good point,” James said. “Anyways, getting back to Kayla and the way she supposedly came by the information, you get this from the reporter at The Gazette?”

  “In a roundabout way. I was back at the house, following up on the brawl between Erlichman and the kid. Did a search online, and put it all together when I saw the bike messenger’s photos. Just so happens, when I brought the pictures to Matty Brown to ID the bike messenger as his source, I got more out of him than I bargained for. The 300 bucks I had to pay turned out to be a sweet deal.”

  “That’s some fine detective work, Carter. Nice going,” James said as he slapped me on the shoulder.

  It was then I remembered something Corey had said during one of our phone conversations. “Here’s a question for you. How and why would Kayla Brock be ferreting out this kind of dirt from someone like Herod Erlichman without Corey Anders knowing about it?”

  “He must have known,” James said.

  “You’d think so, but Brown told me Kayla got that scoop on Amanda and Coughlin over a week ago. Yet, when I spoke to Corey Sunday morning, right after the story broke, he claimed to have no knowledge of the information, whatsoever.”

  “Either Corey was lying to you, or Kayla’s working some angle we’re not seeing,” James said. “Actually, guess it could be both.”

  “Well, let’s break it down. Corey Anders was Enright’s producer. The two of them worked closely, day in and day out, for several years. That said, I’ve got to believe if there was a serious problem in Enright’s world, Corey would not only know about it, he’d be actively involved in sorting it out.”

  James furrowed his brow as he nodded. “Right. Then you’ve got Kayla Brock. Not even a paid employee at WTLK. An intern. Involved with Amanda’s show for three months.” James was quiet for a beat. “I’m not buying, for a minute, that this girl was willing to trade sexual favors for information, just so she could make Enright’s world all rosy and bright again. There’s got to be more to the story than that.”

  “Plus, the girl’s 23 years old,” I said. “I mean, ambition is one thing, but pulling a coup like that by herself? At that age? She has no record, comes from a solid home, parents have a few bucks. My money’s on the theory that, for good or evil, she’s working with someone else. And that they have a specific agenda we’re not aware of.”

  “I agree,” James said. “Either Corey knows and he’s in on it, or he’s been deliberately kept in the dark because someone else is calling the shots.”

  “Yep.” I stared at James for a few seconds. “Question is, what do you want to do about it?”

  James put his hands on his hips. “Well, we’ve already got Corey in lockup. Path of least resistance. Let’s drag his lawyer back in here and see what we can squeeze out of them.”

  Chapter 26

  Detective James shuffled through the paperwork before him as he prepared to interrogate our producer-turned-prime-suspect Corey Anders in the Enright murder investigation. Anders looked worn out as he sat motionless next to his lawyer.

  “Mr. Anders, when did you first become aware that Amanda Enright was to be outed as the illegitimate daughter of televangelist James Coughlin?” Detective James asked.

  Corey turned and looked at his lawyer, who nodded. “I found out when the rest of the world did,” Corey replied. “Two days ago, on Sunday morning. Just before receiving the devastating news of Amanda’s death.”

  “You’re certain about the timing?” James asked. “You weren’t aware Herod Erlichman was in possession of this information a week or more prior to Ms. Enright’s death?”

  “Yes. I’m certain,” Corey replied. “Had Amanda known such a bombshell was forthcoming, I’m the first person she would have shared that information with.”

  “Had Ms. Enright ever shared with you the fact she was purportedly James Coughlin’s daughter, prior to the events that unfolded over the past few days?” James asked.

  “Never,” Corey said. “Amanda lost her mother early on, and once told me she had no information about her real father’s identity.”

  James took a minute to look at his papers. “Mr. Anders, would it surprise you to learn that Kayla Brock, intern for WTLK, was in possession of this information a week or more prior to Ms. Enright’s death?”

  James’s words caused Corey to recoil, looking as though he’d seen a ghost. “Surprise wouldn’t cover it, if I thought for a single second such a claim had any merit. Fortunately, I know Kayla Brock well enough to dismiss such a slanderous notion. The three of us were a team. A family. If Kayla had been privy to such information, both Amanda and I would have been informed right away.”

  “You seem confident about this,” James said, a tone of mockery in his voice.

  “I have absolutely no reason to believe otherwise, Detective,” Corey shot back. “Kayla is a dear, sweet soul, who worshipped the very ground Amanda Enright walked on. Trust me, I know this girl.”

  “Fair enough,” James said.

  I sat back, staring through the privacy glass at the trio seated inside the interrogation room, fascinated by Corey’s steadfast devotion to both Amanda and Kayla. I recalled how moved he’d been by Kayla’s concern for him while in the hospital.

  The level of trust and confidence he conveyed was convincing enough to make me wonder if Kayla Brock’s actions were an attempt to ensure Enright’s longevity. That the intern had nothing but her mentor’s best interests at heart.

  But, it just didn’t square with good old-fashioned logic.

  I allowed myself to scour Kayla Brock’s words and actions again, while James was in the process of asking Corey a number of boilerplate questions designed to cover the department’s bases.

  It was then I remembered something Corey had said to me during our visit at the hospital.

  I left the viewing room and walked down the hall to find an officer. “Excuse me.”

  “Yes, sir,” the officer replied.

  “I’m right in the middle of observing an interrogation being conducted by Detective James. Could you interrupt him and bring him a note? I’d like him to ask the suspect a question.”

  “No problem,” the officer replied.

  I went over and sat down behind James’s desk, scratched out a quick note, and handed it to the officer.

  “I’ll bring it to him right away.”

  I nodded and followed the officer back toward the interrogation room. I reentered the viewing room and got my notebook out.

  James got up from his seat to see who was knocking on the door. I watched the officer whisper in James’s ear and hand him my question.

  James read the paper and nodded. “All right, thanks,” he said, looking in my direction with a quizzical expression on his face as he walked back to his chair.

  Corey and his lawyer glanced at one another as James stared at my note.

  “Mr. Anders, it’s my underst
anding WTLK allowed Kayla Brock to fill in for Amanda Enright on air, on a number of occasions, when Ms. Enright was unable to perform her duties as the WTLK Presents program host. Is that correct?”

  Corey looked at his lawyer, who nodded once again.

  “That’s correct,” Corey replied. “Kayla filled in, on-air, for Amanda three nights in a row this past August when Amanda was feeling under the weather, and again, for a single show, a week ago today, when Amanda took a personal day.”

  James pushed his chair back and stood up, my note in hand. “Excuse me for a moment,” James said. “I’ll be right back.”

  A few seconds later he entered the viewing room. “Where are we going with this, Carter?”

  “Just a hunch. Mind if we run with it?” I asked.

  “Of course not. I trust your instincts. What do you want me to ask next?”

  I pointed at the paper and he handed it to me. I jotted down a list of bullet points and gave the note back to him. “Ask them in that order, if you don’t mind. I think it’ll all make sense to you once you get him talking.”

  James nodded and walked away without even looking to see what I’d written.

  He reappeared on the other side and continued. “Mr. Anders, do you happen to know the circumstances surrounding Ms. Enright’s request for a personal day off last Tuesday?”

  “She told me her frame of mind wasn’t conducive to turning out a good show that evening,” Corey replied. “Fortunately, Kayla happened to have that day off from classes in Boston, and was here in Bridgeport. As a result, we gave her the green light to fill Amanda’s seat at the microphone.”

  “Were listeners informed that the on-air personality they were listening to was Kayla Brock, not Amanda Enright?” James inquired.

  Corey took a moment before answering. “I can’t recall with absolute certainty, but I believe we announced Kayla’s substitution at the beginning of the program for her first two nights at the microphone in August, but not the third. And no, we didn’t announce Kayla’s substitution for Amanda during last Tuesday evening’s show.”