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

  “Are there any other details concerning your dealings with Lee Sands that you can share?” James asked.

  Kayla turned and looked at her lawyer. He whispered something to her, then she spoke quietly to him for over a minute.

  “Is there more, or not?” James persisted, putting the pressure on.

  Kayla nodded. “The night I convinced Amanda to go to the therapist’s office, Lee met me at the bus station. He told me to drive his car to Boston, using a route he’d programed into a hand-held GPS map. He told me to go to my dorm, to make sure I spoke with someone I knew, then to follow the same route back to Bridgeport after 1:00 am.”

  “Was the car you drove that night an orange 1970 Mustang?” James asked.

  “Yes,” Kayla said.

  “How did you communicate with Lee Sands once you began driving back to Bridgeport, from Boston?”

  “We had a pair of throw-away phones. I called him once I was on the road. He told me to meet him at the Bridgegate Motel. He paid for my room, made sure I got settled in, then left with his car.”

  James leaned back in his chair. “So, how did Lee Sands get around if you had his vehicle?”

  “I’m not sure, but he had a mountain bike in the back of his car when he showed up at the bus station. He took it out before I left. I guess he must have used the bike, because it was there at the motel when I got back to Bridgeport around 2:00 am.”

  Kayla’s lawyer said something to her, then she continued. “The next morning, when I found out Amanda had been … harmed, I panicked. Lee came and got me at the motel. He calmed me down, told me what to say and do, then reminded me I was about to become a star.”

  Chapter 30

  It was a few minutes past 6:00 pm when I pulled into my driveway. Sarah’s car was gone, and I hadn’t spoken with her. I checked my cell to make sure I hadn’t missed any messages. There were none.

  I went inside the house and took a quick look around, thinking she might have left a note, when I heard a car door slam shut.

  A few seconds later I heard her familiar footsteps out in the kitchen. “Carter, where are you at?”

  “Upstairs,” I replied, wondering if the excitement I sensed in her voice was good news, or bad.

  “I think I may have discovered some helpful information,” she said as she climbed the stairs.

  I met her out in the hallway. “Don’t hold out on me. What have you got?”

  “I made a bunch of calls and spoke with half a dozen business owners over at Briarwood, like we talked about. One of them, an accountant, was there working late on Sunday night. Said he left the condo to head home just before 11:00 pm, and claims he almost hit a man on a bicycle as he was driving out of the Briarwood parking lot.”

  “Was he able to give you a description of the guy? Or the bike?”

  “He said the guy was tall, middle-aged, wearing a ball cap, and riding one of those off-road bicycles.”

  “A mountain bike?”

  “I guess.”

  I grabbed her by the hand. “C’mon. We need to go see James. I’ll explain on the way down to the PD.”

  * * *

  “You tell him,” I said to Sarah as we stood beside James’s desk. “After all, this information came to light as a result of your good instincts.”

  Sarah handed James a piece of paper with the witness’s name and contact information on it. “This accountant owns a unit over at Briarwood. He was there on Sunday night, and saw a man riding a mountain bike cross the parking lot close to 11:00 pm.”

  “The accountant’s description of the bicyclist matches our boy Lee Sands pretty well,” I added.

  “Huh. My men told me they questioned most of the occupants over there,” James replied.

  “This guy said he’s been out of town on business since Monday morning,” Sarah said. “He just got back a few hours ago.”

  James nodded. “That explains it. Nice work, Sarah. Doesn’t really matter who came up with the evidence, anyways. The fact that we have it is what really counts.”

  “You book Sands after hearing Kayla’s story?” I asked.

  James nodded. “Better still, the district attorney just left the building. Right before you two arrived. He was here to follow up on another case. I walked him through the details of the Enright investigation. He felt we had a strong enough case against Sands to assemble a grand jury and push for first degree murder, even without this piece of the puzzle. This guy’s eye-witness account should give us a lock.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Maybe you two can enlighten me, here. Sands obviously spent some time working out his little scheme to eliminate Amanda Enright. But, from my perspective, there’s a glaring loose end in his game plan that’s really bugging me. Why hire private detectives to do threat assessment right before you’re going to take the principal’s life?”

  I looked at James, the blank expression on his face telling me he didn’t have the answer.

  I thought about it for a moment. “Well, could be Sands was counting on reverse psychology to help steer suspicion away from him. He never asked for a lawyer. He openly admitted his distaste for everything Enright stood for. Maybe he thought that by hiring us, no one would believe he’d be crazy enough to pull such a move.”

  “Guess Sands didn’t do his homework where you two are concerned,” James said. “When he refused to pay your rate for a full-blown murder investigation, he likely figured you’d walk away. No renegotiation, no money. No money, no investigation.”

  “Yeah, could be,” Sarah said, then began to laugh. “Guess he didn’t count on us having such lousy business practices.”

  “I, for one, salute you both,” James said. “You’ve got your priorities straight. Justice is more important to you than money.”

  “Thank you, Detective,” Sarah said. “That means a lot.”

  “What did the DA say about Kayla Brock?” I asked.

  “He didn’t come right out and offer any kind of guarantee, but I got the impression his office wouldn’t pursue criminal charges against her. Kayla has no prior record, she’s willing to cooperate, and there’s no hard, fast evidence against her.”

  “She’s also key to the prosecutor’s case, if he has any hope of proving Sands is guilty of the crime,” I said. “Makes sense he’d cut her some slack, even though she didn’t come forward before we discovered her involvement.”

  “Not we,” James said. “You. I let the DA know how instrumental you two were in getting us to the finish line on this one,” James said. “He wanted me to convey his appreciation. And, I want to thank you both, as well.”

  “Amanda Enright’s death is a tragic loss,” I said, sliding my arm around Sarah’s waist. “I’ll rest well knowing we had a hand in bringing her killer to justice.”

  “Hear, hear,” Sarah said. “Speaking of justice, what do you say we go get you that lobster roll you’ve been craving? I think you’ve earned it.”

  James reached back, pulled out his wallet, and produced three $20 bills. “Lobster rolls are on me.”

  I looked at Sarah, shrugged, and took his money. “Thanks, Detective.”

  James gave us a nod then grabbed a case file and got back to work.

  Sarah squeezed my shoulder and turned toward the hall, pulling me in close as we walked off. She grabbed the cash from my hand and held it out in front of us. “James springing for food twice in one week? Miracles never cease.”

  The End

  *************************************************************************

  Thank you for reading More Heat Than Light

  Book 4 of The Carter Peterson Mystery Series.

  We now invite you to read a sample chapter from Book 5

  of The Carter Peterson Mystery Series, entitled

  The Truth Will Drop

  Chapter 1, as well as a link to order the full novella, are included on the next few pages.

  Chapter 1

  The evening’s fading light reflected off rolling waves as we made
our way across Donald and Carol Taylor’s front yard. I was about to comment on the beauty of the Piscataqua River when I noticed my partner Sarah Woods was no longer by my side. I turned to find her staring at the busy waterway as a bulk freighter, escorted by three tugboats, lumbered past the property.

  “That’s Don out there, on deck of the starboard tug,” a voice called out from behind us. “Came out of retirement to work Frenchie’s shifts till Moray Towing can find a decent replacement.”

  I looked over my shoulder to find Carol Taylor walking toward us, arms folded tight across her chest, her breath visible in the frigid January air.

  “Mrs. Taylor, we’re sorry for your loss,” I said as I put my hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “I’d like you to meet my partner, Sarah Woods.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sarah. I’m Carol,” said the retired teacher and mother of three as she pointed toward her modest Cape Cod-style home. “We might just as well head inside. It ain’t gonna get any warmer out here now that the sun’s dropped.”

  The tooting communication signals of the passing tugs echoed through the rumbling air as we followed our new client up the cobblestone walk toward her home. “Don’t mind the mess,” she said as she held the front door open. “After losing Frenchie back in August, we haven’t found the strength or desire to do much around this place.”

  “In your situation, I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Sarah said as we entered.

  Mrs. Taylor motioned for us to sit. “Can I get you folks anything?”

  “No, thank you,” I said, eyeing the stack of official looking paperwork on the coffee table before us.

  She noticed my focus. “That’s all the correspondence from the Malaysian company that owns the ship Frenchie was towing to dock when the accident---sorry, Don says I’ve got to stop calling it that---when the incident took place. Then, of course, there’s also the darned useless police reports, letters from the union, offers from lawyers, et cetera, et cetera. It never ends.”

  Sarah put her hand on my knee and shook her head as our client disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Here’s a copy of the video we got in the mail, along with the note,” she said as she returned to the room, the frown lines on her face deep set. “I hope you’ll take it with you and watch it somewhere else. I just can’t look at it anymore.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Mrs. Taylor, we’ve thoroughly reviewed the file you sent regarding your son’s tragedy, but we’d like to ask a few quick questions, if that’s all right.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “I apologize for having to get into specifics, here, but all the information I’ve reviewed talks about your son having been killed by blunt force trauma, yet I can’t seem to find any documentation telling me exactly what hit him.”

  She took a seat across from us and stared at the floor for a long moment. “Well, that’s just it. No one knew … until now. Take that fancy computer stick home. Watch the video. It’ll make things all too clear.”

  … to be continued.

  Like the first chapter?

  Order Book 5 of The Carter Peterson Mystery Series, entitled

  The Truth Will Drop

  by clicking on the link.

  Want more stories like The Carter Peterson Mystery Series?

  Visit Jennifer L. Jennings author page,

  to find the original series from which Carter Peterson’s character came to life,

  by clicking the link below.

  Sarah Woods Mystery Series