“What about the attempts on the lives of you and your husband, Mrs. Lincoln?”
“The man who attempted to harm my husband and me has been apprehended.”
From the corner of her eye, Annie saw the door open. She turned her head to see her mother standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.
A hint of a smile appeared on Lisa’s lips and she swung the microphone toward Alma. Lisa and Annie’s mother had met in the past, and there was no affection between the two of them.
“Mrs. Roderick,” Lisa said. “Has there been any attempt on your life, or do you feel this has put you in any danger?”
Alma raised her chin. “My daughter has a dangerous job and she does it well. When people like you come around, it can only result in making things worse. Of course we’re all in danger. Why, only a few weeks ago, I was confronted—”
Annie put her hand over the mike and stepped between Lisa and her mother. “Lisa, I’m trusting you anything my mother says is strictly off the record. I don’t mind giving you a short interview from time to time, but please keep my family out of it.”
Lisa narrowed her eyes as if considering that. Then she nodded curtly. “Fair enough.”
Annie removed her hand from the mike. “As I said, the police have not made an arrest in the murder of either Werner Shaft or Michael Norton. It’s still an ongoing investigation, and there’s nothing else I can tell you at the moment.”
Alma backed from the doorway and the door slammed behind her, making Annie jump.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln,” Lisa said, forcing a smile. She signaled to Don and the red light blinked off.
Annie stepped back in the house as Lisa and Don turned and made their way back to the Channel 7 News van.
“You shouldn’t talk to those people,” Alma said, when Annie returned to the kitchen. “You don’t need to get your face out there for every crazy to see.” She moved into the hallway. “I must go now. Please be more careful.”
Annie watched her mother march out the front door, then shook her head and went to the garage. Jake sat on a wooden box, fiddling with something that appeared to have come from a car engine. Matty stood beside him. They looked up when Annie entered.
“You guys can come out of here now,” she said. “The danger is past.”
Chapter 32
Wednesday, 7:05 p.m.
HANK FELT WEARY. It had been a long day following a late night the evening before, and combined with the emotional events of the day, he was ready for a long rest.
But his mind wouldn’t quit. He ran the facts of the case over and over in his head, trying to devise a working scenario he could run with, but nothing seemed to fit.
His desk was littered with folders, printouts, and reports, each one holding pieces of the puzzle he couldn’t bring together into something cohesive.
He plugged the flash drive Annie had given him into his computer and listened intently to her conversation with Michael Norton. The caller put the blame squarely on the shoulders of Rocky Shaft for the murder of Werner Shaft.
Other than that accusation, the only thing pointing to Rocky was his threat to kill Norton. It was reason enough to question him further, but unless an interview revealed something incriminating, he had no reason to hold him.
Hank dug through the stack of folders, pulled out the report on Rocky Shaft, and flipped it open. Shaft had a record of an assault that took place many years ago. He served thirty days, was released, and stayed clean since. That offense, combined with the threat on Norton, could mean he had an anger problem.
It could also mean Shaft’s threat was due to the grief of his brother’s death. Any good lawyer would argue that.
Hank sat back and closed his eyes. If Rocky and Werner Shaft, along with Norton, were involved in the drug money heist Norton mentioned, and the dealers were out for revenge, that could explain everything—except the evidence against Norton for Shaft’s murder.
He opened his eyes, leaned forward, and made a note to get King to check on any heist that might’ve taken place in the drug world a few months ago.
He looked at his watch, picked up the phone, and called Rocky Shaft. Shaft just got home from work, and though at first he balked at a visit from Hank, he gave in and agreed to an interview. Hank didn’t see the need to bring him in to the station. He wasn’t going to arrest him. Besides, Hank might have a few questions for Maria Shaft as well.
Detective King had left for home some time ago. Hank didn’t care to have him in on this interview, anyway. He wanted to keep it civil, and King had a way of putting people on edge at the wrong time.
He swept together the reports and folders, tucked them into his briefcase, and left the quiet precinct.
When Hank arrived at the Shaft residence, Maria’s dark-green Mazda wasn’t there. The only vehicle in the driveway was a red Ford pickup. Rocky had been at work the last time Hank visited, but from the printouts, he knew the vehicle was Rocky’s.
Hank parked at the curb, grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat, got out, and went to the pickup. There was a tarp in the back, neatly folded. There wasn’t much else there. A spare tire, a length of nylon rope, a red, metal toolbox. Hank wanted to lift the lid but that would constitute an illegal search. He wondered if the box held more than screwdrivers, wrenches, or pliers.
He turned, strode up the pathway, and rang the bell. Rocky Shaft answered the door after the second ring, stepped back, and beckoned him in.
“What’s this all about?” Shaft asked after they took a seat in the front room. “Did you find my brother’s killer?”
Hank snapped open his briefcase and laid it on the couch beside him. He looked at Shaft. “I’m afraid I have nothing conclusive to report, Mr. Shaft. We’re still looking into the evidence, but I have a few questions for you.”
Shaft sat back, frowned, and crossed his legs. “Fire away. And call me Rocky.”
“Rocky, this afternoon Michael Norton’s body was found. He was murdered.” Hank eyed the man closely, watching for his reaction.
Rocky’s eyes shot open and he stared at Hank, unblinking. “I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with that?” he asked at last, his eyes narrowing.
“You threatened to kill him,” Hank said.
Rocky sighed. “Yes, I did.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “I was angry because I think he killed my brother. But I didn’t mean it.”
“Perhaps not,” was all Hank said. He reached into his briefcase, removed a folder, and flipped it open. “Mr. Shaft … Rocky, on the evening of your brother’s murder, you left work at 7:00. Where did you go after that?”
“I came straight home.”
“And yet, when I called that evening, no one answered the phone.”
“I live in the basement apartment. I was down there and I wouldn’t have heard the telephone.”
“Were you alone all evening?”
“Yes, I was.” Rocky frowned. “Do you think I had something to do with my brother’s death?”
“I’m trying to fill in the blanks,” Hank said. He flipped over a page in the folder, studied it a moment, and asked, “Where were you today between the hours of 12:00 noon and 3:00 pm?”
“I was at work.” Rocky paused. “I went out for lunch at 12:30 and was back by 1:30.”
Hank pulled out a pen and made a note. “Where did you go?”
“Marcy’s Deli. Down the street from where I work at Richmond Distributing.”
Hank made another note. “Did anyone see you there?”
Rocky shrugged one shoulder and sat back. “It’s a busy place. I have no idea.”
“Do you have a receipt for the meal?”
Rocky’s face darkened and he spoke sharply. “I don’t keep the receipts.”
Hank nodded, made a note, and flipped another page. “Do you own a gun, Rocky?”