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

  I wasn’t sure how to answer, but didn’t want to share my suspicions about Lee just yet. “Two reasons, I guess. One was the desire to help find the person or persons who harmed your friend. And the other … well, let’s put it this way: half a paycheck is better than no paycheck at all.”

  Corey nodded. “Principled and pragmatic. I knew I liked you for good reason, Carter.”

  “Thank you. Likewise,” I said. “Quick question. Did Amanda carry a cell phone with her on a regular basis? Because the police weren’t able to locate any sort of device belonging to Amanda at the crime scene. And so far, a phone hasn’t turned up anywhere on or inside her property, either.”

  “Oh, yes. Amanda and her phone were inseparable,” Corey said. “She carried it with her wherever she went. If it’s gone missing, someone must have taken it.”

  I jotted the info down. “Another area where I could use your help. I’d like you to clue me in about someone I’m completely in the dark about. Meghan McCue. As you know, Amanda was found in an office condominium belonging to this woman. You mentioned last night that she was your therapist, and that you’d urged Amanda to see her. What can you tell me about Meghan?”

  “I thought you might ask,” he said. “I’m simply heartsick over ever mentioning Meggy to Amanda. I can’t help but feel this entire nightmare is somehow my fault.”

  “Nonsense,” I said. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to take responsibility for such a horrific act.”

  “I know, I know. I shouldn’t, but it creeps in.” Corey took a moment before continuing. “Meghan is a beautiful soul. Truly. She’s helped me so much. Given the degree of comfort I’ve found in her care, I felt she could provide some relief for Amanda, too. Carter, I’d stake my life on the fact that Meghan McCue had absolutely nothing to do with Amanda’s death. She simply doesn’t have it in her.”

  “Mind me asking why you felt Amanda needed someone like Meghan to become involved in her personal life?”

  “Not at all,” Corey replied. “Let me preface this by saying I feel as though every single human being needs a little outside help from time to time. We all have our problems. Issues. Demons.

  Amanda was strong in so many ways, but fragile in areas she didn’t let others see. I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to really get to know Amanda. She let down her walls for me. Trust me, she would have benefitted greatly from spending time with a healer like Meghan McCue. I know this by virtue of my experiences with both women.”

  I scratched out some quick notes and let go a sigh. “I’m sure you would have already spoken up if you knew the answer to my next question, but I have to ask just the same. Is there anyone else you can think of that might have wanted to cause Amanda harm?”

  “Carter, I’ve racked my brain for hours asking myself that same question. There have been countless times when callers have engaged in verbal abuse toward Amanda during her shows, but I never got the impression any one of them would try to do her harm.”

  “And yet, the station saw fit to hire us to conduct threat assessment. What am I missing, here?”

  Corey nodded. “Lee Sands. He recommended we do it. Simply because Amanda was rising in popularity so quickly. I got the impression it was meant to be a preemptive measure more than anything else. And, just so you know, it was unanimous. We all supported the decision. To hire you and Sarah, specifically, I might add. You both came highly recommended. No one wanted to risk having Amanda exposed to anyone or anything that might put our enterprise in jeopardy.”

  “No, of course not,” I said.

  “Forgive me for asking, Carter, because I know you have no way of answering this question with any kind of certainty, but what are the odds you’ll catch whoever did this to Amanda? Because I won’t rest well until they’re locked up to rot in a cell for the rest of their days.”

  I reached forward and put my hand on Corey’s shoulder. “Count on it. We’ll find them. I give you my word.”

  Chapter 13

  I left the hospital, bound for home. And Sarah. I wondered what kind of reception I’d get when I walked through the door. We’d begun to diffuse the powder keg that disrupted our morning before parting ways, and we’d both had time to think since then.

  Which didn’t always work in my favor.

  The thought caused me to reconsider going back so soon. Maybe I’d do some legwork on the investigation while I was out.

  But what?

  James was likely mired in trying to decide which of our key suspects was telling the truth, and who had something to hide. He’d be in touch if and when he had some important news to share.

  I passed by the offices of The Bridgeport Gazette when a thought occurred to me: the reporter who’d written the front page story I’d read earlier might have a file on Amanda Enright. He was, after all, the individual who’d unofficially kicked off the media frenzy surrounding her previously unknown ties to televangelist James Coughlin.

  It was worth a shot. And I had nothing but time.

  I signaled my turn then took a right onto a side street, just beyond the block that included The Gazette. There were several empty spots available on the street, so I decided to park and hoof it back to the newspaper’s offices.

  I realized while I was walking that I’d neglected to take note of the reporter’s name.

  There was a pharmacy located directly across from The Gazette, so I darted across the street. The store kept their newspapers close to the entrance, so I popped inside, pulled out my notebook, and found the reporter’s name at the bottom of the column: Matthew Brown.

  A quick jog back across traffic and I was on my way up the well-worn stairs to The Gazette’s war room.

  “Help ya?” a seemingly frazzled woman in her late fifties asked. The placard on her desk read Marge G.

  “I’m looking for Matthew Brown.”

  “He’s gone to lunch. Have a seat if you want to---oh, scratch that. Matty is on his way in, right behind you.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I turned to catch the reporter before he got too far. I was surprised by how young he looked. He couldn’t have been more than 25.

  “Excuse me. You Matthew Brown?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he replied, a blank look on his face. “That’s me.”

  I held out my hand. “Carter Peterson.”

  The kid looked me up and down. “Wait. You’re the private investigator guy here in town, right?”

  I was a bit surprised he knew who I was. “That’s right. Listen, you got a minute?”

  “Sure, I guess. Just … just let me, like, punch in first. Be back.” I watched him disappear down a long corridor.

  About a minute later I spotted him making his way back, when a coworker shouted to him from within one of the offices. Brown was delayed for about a minute before heading my way again. “What can I do for you?” he asked as he approached.

  “That front page story you wrote concerning Amanda Enright,” I said. “Any way I could get you to tell me where you got your information about Enright being the illegitimate daughter of James Coughlin?”

  “Depends,” Brown said. “What do you have for me concerning Enright’s murder investigation?”

  I smiled and nodded. “How old are you? Mid-twenties?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Guess you learned pretty quickly how this business works, eh?”

  Brown shrugged. “If I were to reveal one of my sources every time someone came in here asking, wouldn’t be long before they were all gone. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that nothing is free in this world.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” I said. “OK. I’m sure you realize I can’t give you what you’re looking for without compromising an ongoing murder investigation. It could kill any progress the cops are making concerning the Enright case. But I will tell you that they’re looking at half a dozen individuals as possible suspects.”

  “No offense, but try again,” Brown said. “Information like that isn’t going to help sel
l a single newspaper.

  “You may have a point, there. Look, you’re obviously a smart kid. Building relationships with contacts who have proper connections is invaluable in your business. So … you help me now, maybe I give you a heads-up in the future.”

  Brown looked down at the floor then directly into my eyes. “Yeah, I’ll bite. But, you may be disappointed, because there isn’t much to tell.”

  I got my notebook out. “Sometimes the smallest details can have a major impact,” I said. “What have you got?”

  “The information came to me by way of a trade,” he said. “A friend of mine works down in Boston. He’s a courier. And quite the male slut. He keeps his ear to the ground. Tells me if he hears and smells, like, any juicy news brewing.”

  “He works for a newspaper down there?” I asked.

  “Nope. He’s a bicycle courier. Works for himself.”

  “What, exactly, did he tell you?” I asked. “And where did he get his information? I need details, here.”

  “He texted me the scoop about the shock-jock and the televangelist. Told me to move the Gazette’s deadline up and hit the streets earlier than usual. Run a front page story about Enright’s Music Hall disruption and include the scoop. Said we’d beat the Boston big boys in breaking the scoop, but made me promise not to use it as our headline. He told me to drop it deep into the article.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “So no one would track us down and break our legs,” he said. “It’s not that we stepped on toes in doing what we did. It’s how hard we stepped on those toes that matters. As far as where he gets his information, I never ask, because he never gives me a scoop that he hasn’t vetted first. That’s our deal.”

  “All right,” I said. “Thanks.” I jotted down my private cell number on some random business card I had tucked inside my jacket pocket and handed it to him. “What’s your cell number? I’ll return the favor as soon as I have some news you can use.”

  We finished up and I left the place, shaking my head at how savvy the kid was. He was definitely in the right business.

  The information he’d shared jibed with what James had told us about Herod Erlichman’s leak at the Boston paper. But how did it relate to our murder investigation, if at all?

  I walked back to the car and climbed in, wondering where Sarah’s head was at concerning our little dispute. I was keeping my fingers crossed she’d made peace with it and had put it in the rear-view. I was affected by her moods---especially when she was upset. I fired up the engine and pointed the front end of my car toward home.

  I’d have my answer shortly.

  Chapter 14

  “Where have you been?” Sarah asked as I walked through the door. It was a good sign. She was still speaking to me.

  “I went back to the hospital to spend some time with Corey Anders. And decided to stop by The Gazette after that.”

  “How’s Corey doing?” she asked.

  “He’s hanging in there.”

  “What did you two talk about?”

  “Mostly Meghan McCue,” I said. “Corey’s convinced she wasn’t involved in Amanda’s death.”

  “I wonder if Detective James will agree.”

  “We’ll know soon enough.”

  “Anything else?” Sarah asked.

  The look on her face made me wonder if she was pressing me to bring up our disagreement. I didn’t want to, but figured she wouldn’t be satisfied until I at least touched on the subject. “Corey sided with you. He was surprised I agreed to Lee’s non-negotiable terms.”

  “Really? Huh,” she said.

  I wondered what that meant, but decided not to ask. “Corey said it was Lee’s idea to hire us from the start. As a preemptive measure. Said we came highly recommended.”

  “That’s good,” Sarah said, but I got the impression she wasn’t focused on my words. “Carter, I feel bad about this morning. I overreacted. Ultimately, I think agreeing to Lee’s terms was the right move.”

  “No worries,” I said. “But I’m curious. Why the change of heart?”

  “Because, we would’ve ended up working on the case, regardless. Full pay, half pay, or no pay. It’s happened before.”

  I let go a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Sarah asked.

  “That’s pretty much what I told Corey.”

  “Oh. What was his reaction?” Sarah asked.

  “He said it made sense. By the way, he also indirectly backed up what you said about Kayla and Lee.”

  “Concerning them having something going on?”

  “Right. Seems Kayla was there to hit Lee up for a recommendation. And to grab a few of her belongings.”

  “Guess it was just my turn to be right.”

  “Yep. Another example of why two heads are better than one when it comes to investigative work. A good point can benefit from a solid counterpoint. It makes us have to work harder to prove a theory.”

  Sarah smiled. “Does that mean you still want to work with me?”

  “I guess so,” I said---earning me a pillow in the face, thrown from across the room.

  “Bullseye,” Sarah said. “That’ll teach you to mess with me. Anyways, getting back to the case. What made you decide to stop at The Gazette?”

  “Thought I’d press that reporter who broke the news about Amanda and the televangelist. Reporter kid’s only twenty-five years old, but wise to how it all works. Wasn’t about to give me any scraps unless I gave him some scoop in return.”

  “So it was a waste of time?” Sarah asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that. Reporter’s name is Matthew Brown. He claims a bike messenger friend of his down in Boston fed him the information. Which may align with what James told us, about the info leak coming from a member of Herod Erlichman’s staff.”

  “What did you give Brown in return?”

  “My word. Told him that if he shared what he had with me, I’d return the favor in the future.”

  Sarah pursed her lips then asked, “Bit of a slippery slope, don’t you think?”

  “Nah. I’d never give a reporter information that might compromise an investigation. Unfortunately, give-to-get is how it works in their world, so I’ll throw the kid a bone every now and then. I used to do it when I was a cop. It always worked out in the end.”

  “If you say so,” Sarah said. “Any word from James yet?”

  “Nothing,” I said as I glanced at my phone. “But I can’t imagine we’ll have to wait much longer. It’s 2:15 now, which means he’s been at it for three hours.”

  “Yeah, but I’m sure he rounded up Kayla Brock when he went in to grab Lee Sands. Plus, he has Meghan McCue, and the contractor.”

  “Good point,” I said. “Hope he’s able to nail down some solid leads. We’re working for peanuts on this one. The sooner the killer ends up behind bars, the sooner we can stop the bleeding.”

  “True … but we’re lucky. A few of our most recent cases turned out to be more lucrative than we’d anticipated.”

  “Yep. We’re not going to starve,” I said as my phone lit up. “Speak of the devil. It’s James.”

  “Tell me something good,” I said as I switched the speaker on.

  “If only,” James replied.

  “That bad?”

  “Let me put it to you this way. Out of the three material witnesses I questioned, not one of them gave up a single crumb of information that might make our jobs easier. I can’t rule anyone out yet, so I’m not cutting a single one of them loose.”

  “Three witnesses?” I asked. “Who’s missing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who did you talk to?”

  “The general manager, the psychotherapist, and the contractor,” James said.

  “What about Kayla Brock, WTLK’s intern?”

  “Haven’t been able to reach her, yet,” James replied. “I left a message on her voicemail.”

  I let go a sigh as I watched Sarah shake her head. “We may have dropped the
ball. Brock was there at the station this morning.”

  “What? When?”

  “When we were there, earlier,” I said. “We even spoke to her. Sorry about that.”

  “Oh,” James said and remained quiet for a beat. “Well, these things happen. I didn’t know she was there, and I didn’t ask for her. Can’t say I’m under any illusion she’ll be the key to it all. I don’t think I could question another suspect right now, anyways. I’m burnt.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “The good news is … Happy Hour isn’t too far off.”

  “Funny you say that, because I could go for a belt or two,” James responded.

  “We all could,” Sarah shouted so James could hear.

  “Let’s do it,” I said. “We could meet downtown at The Bridgegate.”

  “I’m in,” James replied. “What time works for you two?

  I looked over at Sarah.

  “Four?” she suggested, followed by a shrug.

  “I heard her,” James said. “Four it is. See you there.”

  Chapter 15

  Detective James gave us a wave as we walked through the foyer of The Bridgegate. We were early, but an empty shot glass and half-full pint of beer sat before him on the high-top table.

  “Guess you really weren’t kidding about needing a few pops,” I said as I pulled out one of the stools for Sarah and motioned for her to sit.

  “Guilty as charged,” James said. “I got here a little early and decided to get a head-start on you two lushes.”

  “Good one,” Sarah said in response. “I’m lucky if I have one glass of wine a day.”

  “What about you, Carter?” James asked.

  “Three, four beers a week, on average.”

  “Oops. Guess I’m the lush,” James said, hoisting his glass.

  A young male server approached. “Hi, folks. What can I bring you?”

  “I’ll have a glass of your house Pinot Noir,” Sarah said.

  “Nut brown ale,” I said. “Pint, please.”

  “Coming up.”