One Bad Egg (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 5) Read online

  “I’m not following,” I said. “You’re saying Owen loaned you the money to buy your work truck?”

  He nodded. “I contract with different companies, but I own my truck.”

  I knew next to nothing about the trucking industry. Martin must have sensed my confusion.

  “I’m an owner-operator truck driver,” he said. “And I do short-haul trucking. So I own my own truck and contract with companies. I take the jobs I want, when I want. I do mostly local runs, and sometimes regional depending on the job and the time spent away from home.”

  “So you’re a contract employee?”

  He nodded. “Basically. I wanted to have the flexibility of owning my own truck and setting my own schedule. As long as there’s work available, I can be as busy as I want to be.”

  His explanation made sense. But I still didn’t understand why he’d borrowed money from Owen in the first place. So I asked.

  “I used to work for a company doing long hauls,” he said. “Before Dawn and I got married. She didn’t like it, said she didn’t want me gone for days at a time. It took three months of asking before she finally agreed to marry me. And that was only if I switched to short-haul.”

  “And you need your own truck for that?” I asked. “There aren’t any companies that hire drivers for those kinds of deliveries?”

  “There are,” Martin said. “But it’s just easier if you have your own truck. You can decide how busy you want to be, especially in an area like this. I can pick up jobs in Richmond or DC or Charlottesville or anywhere in between. Do a short-haul run and be back that night. Even if I finish late, I’m still home every day, which is what Dawn wanted.”

  I flashed back to the jealousy I’d witnessed when I first moved to Latney. Did she want him home every night because she missed him or because she didn’t trust him?

  “And so Owen helped you out with the financing?” I struggled to picture how Owen would have cash on hand. In my very brief interaction with him, I hadn’t seen anything that indicated a guy flush with money. Unless he’d robbed a bank or something.

  Martin nodded. “I needed several thousand for the down payment, and I had about half of what I needed. Owen and I had gotten to be friendly since Dawn and I were dating and when I told him about the truck, he offered to front me the rest of what I needed.”

  It sounded like a friend helping a friend, or a future brother-in-law helping soon-to-be family. But this was Owen we were talking about.

  Martin closed his eyes and shook his head. “So I took it. Biggest mistake of my life.”

  I adjusted in my seat, turning so I was facing him more fully. “Why?”

  “Why did I take it?” His eyes opened. “Because I needed that truck. I wanted to marry Dawn. And I didn’t want her to know that I was too poor to even afford a simple down payment on a truck.”

  I frowned. “So you never told her?”

  “No.” The cigarette was back in his hands; he’d somehow managed to dig it out of his pocket while sitting. “I’ve paid him back a little at a time over the last few years—I’ve only got about a thousand to go.”

  I didn’t want to point out to him that, technically speaking, he didn’t owe Owen anything anymore. Because he was now dead.

  “Anyway, he’s held it over my head for years, always threatening to tell Dawn that I owed him money.”

  “And…you let him?”

  “What was I supposed to do?” The cigarette trembled between his fingers.

  “Couldn’t you have told Dawn?”

  His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “No.” His answer was immediate.

  “Why not?”

  He shoved the cigarette between his lips. “You know Dawn. Her temper. Her ability to hold a grudge.”

  I did know those things.

  “She’d divorce me if she found out I’d been lying to her about this the entire time we’ve been married.”

  Despite what I knew about his wife, I still thought Martin was overreacting a little. So he’d borrowed a little money from her brother. It wasn’t like he’d had an affair or had a child out of wedlock he was keeping from her. He hadn’t committed a crime or lied about who he was or his job or anything. He’d borrowed some money, money he was paying back.

  “So that’s why our relationship has always been a little…strained,” Martin said. “Mine and Owen’s.”

  “Well, probably yours and Dawn’s, too,” I pointed out.

  He shifted the cigarette to the left side of his mouth. “Maybe.”

  “No maybes,” I said. “Think about the amount of power Owen has held over you, just because you owed him some money.”

  He nodded. “I know. And that was the main reason I went over last night. He said something at the bar, how maybe I shouldn’t take any time off this holiday season so I could get caught up on my debts, and Dawn overheard.” He scowled. “So of course she asked me about it, wanting to know what Owen was talking about. I told her he was just drunk and he didn’t know what he was talking about. But later? Yeah, I went over and gave him a piece of my mind.”

  I couldn’t really blame him. Owen’s bombastic style seemed likely to cause fireworks, and I had no doubt his comments had been intentional. He’d liked to cause problems. For everyone.

  “You should really tell her,” I said to Martin. “Come clean. Even though Owen is dead and you won’t need to pay him back anymore, telling her might be just the thing you need.”

  He cringed. “No. No, it’s not.”

  “Just think about it. No more guilt. No more wondering if the news will ever get back to Dawn.”

  He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and stared at it. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

  “Good.”

  “But not right now.” He sighed and leaned back into his seat. “I’ve got other things to worry about.”

  I sat up straighter. Was there some other big secret he was keeping from Dawn?

  “Like the sheriff thinking I killed my brother-in-law.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Martin’s concerns about the sheriff were valid.

  He was definitely a suspect.

  After I got out of his truck and headed back to my own car, I thought about what I’d learned.

  Martin owed Owen money. Owen never let him forget it, and continued to make it an issue over the years, even though Martin made payments on the money he’d borrowed. Dawn knew nothing about the loan, and Owen used that to his advantage, threatening to tell his sister about it. Martin had gone to the motel and gotten into a fight with Owen over comments his brother-in-law had made.

  And Owen was dead the next morning.

  The pieces fit: Martin had been seen at the scene of the crime and he had motive. But there was one thing still missing.

  I couldn’t picture Martin actually doing it.

  He was one of the sweetest, nicest guys I’d ever met. A little goofy sometimes, but his heart was the size of an ocean, and I’d never heard him utter an unkind word about anyone, or witness anything that made me think he was less than what he appeared to be.

  And yes, looks could be deceiving. I knew Martin in one context, and that was as a casual friend. His relationship with his brother-in-law was far different, and people could be driven to do drastic, horrible things, especially in the heat of the moment. If Owen had provoked him enough where their encounter had escalated into a fistfight, it stood to reason that it could have then morphed into something else, too.

  Like murder.

  I shook my head. I still didn’t believe it. If I had to place a bet—and I wasn’t a betting person—my money would still be on Dawn as the culprit.

  Not Martin.

  I glanced at the entrance to the Wicked Wich. Martin had already left, his cigarette tucked firmly back in his pocket, and I was one of three cars parked out front. Business was slow, which was probably to be expected on the afternoon before Thanksgiving.

  I debated for about ten seconds before turning away from my car an
d toward the restaurant. Laura and Connor could wait a little longer; after all, I’d already have some major explaining to do to them, anyway. What were a few more minutes in the grand scheme of things?

  I slipped through the front door and let my eyes adjust to the darkened room. I didn’t know what I hoped to accomplish by going inside.

  That wasn’t true.

  I knew exactly what I was looking for: some answers from Dawn. Some more information. Because even though she’d assured me she had nothing to do with her brother’s death, I had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t telling me everything. And, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, if I had to name a suspect, she would be at the top of my list. Considering her the primary suspect was not a great way of helping her, which was what I’d promised to do. So the only way I could clear that idea from my head was to make sure she told me everything…and make sure it didn’t point to her as the likely culprit.

  I made my way toward the bar, looking for Dawn and hoping that she’d be able to provide some nugget of information that would miraculously clear her of any potential connection to her brother’s death.

  Dawn was not behind the bar. Mikey was standing in her place, restocking glasses on the shelves. Eric was seated nearby, an empty mug of beer in front of him.

  “You need another?” Mikey asked him as I approached, pointing at the empty glass.

  Eric nodded.

  Mikey glanced my direction and smiled. “Hey, Rainy. What are you doing back?”

  It didn’t seem like a detailed, truthful answer would work best, so I just smiled and said, “I just wanted to check in with Dawn one more time before heading back home. Is she doing okay?”

  Mikey shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. His eyebrows drew together and he frowned. “I think she’s pretty upset about what happened.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, losing a family member, regardless of your relationship with them, can be rough.”

  Mikey gave me a weird look. “I meant the sheriff coming in. He rattled her pretty good.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said, nodding and trying not to hyper-focus on the fact that Mikey was saying Dawn was more upset that she was being considered a suspect than she was that her brother was dead. It wasn’t like it was new information or something I hadn’t surmised myself, but the fact that others were noticing had the potential to be a problem.

  “Anyway, she ran out to grab some stuff at Toby’s before they close.” He slid a fresh beer in front of Eric and grabbed the empty mug. “I guess she thinks Friday is gonna be busy, what with everyone shopping.”

  Downtown Latney didn’t have a ton of retail so I wasn’t sure Black Friday would be quite what I had experienced at Tyson’s Corner or the local big box stores in Arlington. But what did I know?

  “Don’t you guys have a supplier for food?” I asked.

  Mikey finished the rack of glasses he was working on and swung it off the counter. “Yeah, but we don’t have a delivery scheduled until Monday, She’s just grabbing some buns and stuff, just to make sure we don’t run out.”

  He scanned the restaurant and he must have noticed one of the tables needed something because he nodded and smiled and hurried out from behind the bar.

  I watched him walk toward a booth, the only one that was occupied. An elderly couple was seated at a two-top table nearby, but other than those two tables, the restaurant was empty.

  I stood there for a minute, my keys still in my hand, wondering if I should wait a few more minutes for Dawn or if I should just go home. It wasn’t as if there was any sense of urgency to the crime. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and I was fairly certain nothing was going to get between Sheriff Lewis and his turkey dinner. Owen would still be dead tomorrow, and the next day, so it wasn’t like we were racing against the clock to find something.

  No, I decided, the best thing to do would be to head home and try to enjoy Thanksgiving with Laura and Connor and Declan. I’d just have to cross my fingers that my daughter would still be able to celebrate, especially after everything she’d seen and heard regarding Owen’s death. For me, it was just another day in Latney, but for Laura, it was a neon sign flashing yet another reason why my move had been a terrible decision.

  I turned to go, casting a quick glance at Eric before heading for the door. He was slumped over the bar, his head inches from his beer glass. He’d already drained half of it.

  He must have sensed my eyes boring into him because he looked up. I took a step backward, self-conscious that I’d been caught staring.

  “Hi,” I said awkwardly.

  He nodded his head and turned back to staring at his beer.

  I shifted my keys from one hand to another, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Did I just leave? Did I ask how he was doing? I mean, he’d just lost a friend and he was in a strange town, and it was almost Thanksgiving. Maybe some compassion would be a nice thing to offer?

  “How…how are you doing?” I asked, hoping he didn’t notice the hesitancy in my voice. I felt my cheeks grow warm as soon as the words left my mouth. How was he? Probably pretty terrible, all things considered.

  “I’m alright,” he said. He picked up his beer and swallowed a mouthful. It was a light golden color, probably a lager or a pilsner. I suddenly wished I had one I could down.

  “I’m sorry about Owen,” I said.

  He nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Are you planning to stick around town or…?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. His hand was wrapped around the mug handle, but he didn’t lift it off the bar. “We came in Owen’s car, so I’m not sure what happens now. Like, does the car go to Dawn? Should I drive it back to Mauryville so I can get home and we can figure things out later? I…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  I didn’t know Eric but I felt bad for him. He was clearly in a rough spot. Latney wasn’t exactly a hub for public transportation, so his options for leaving town were limited. And as far as the logistical question he posed—what to do with Owen’s car—I wasn’t sure anyone would be able to answer that except Dawn.

  “Yeah, I suppose there are a bunch of unanswered questions,” I said.

  “You could say that again.”

  “Were you and Owen good friends?” I asked. I’d moved closer to the bar, close enough so that I could lean against it, but I didn’t sit down.

  “Yeah,” Eric said. He sipped his beer. “We’ve been friends for a while now, and we’ve been sharing an apartment for almost a year.”

  This was news to me.

  I waited a minute. Considering he had just shared a little nugget of information, I wondered what else he might be willing to disclose.

  “I…I don’t know how to ask this, but do you know of anyone who might have held a grudge against Owen?”

  Eric looked up at me, his dark eyes shrewd. “You mean do I know anyone who might have wanted to kill him?”

  I tried not to look away. “Yes.”

  “Not really,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, Owen could be a jerk, but that was just who he was, you know? It was part of his personality. Like, you might be funny or smart or whatever and Owen was just…offensive. It was his MO. Everyone who knew him knew that about him.”

  I pressed my lips together, thinking. From what Eric was saying, Owen had been given a license to be the way he was. But clearly someone had gotten fed up. The question was who.

  “So it sounds like you knew Owen pretty well,” I said. “You know Dawn and Martin, too?”

  Eric frowned. “No, not really.”

  “No?” I cocked my head. “But you’ve been friends for a while you said, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” Eric said. “But it wasn’t like Owen came home very often. I came back with him once before, but it was a short visit, and we barely saw his sister.”

  “And he didn’t talk about her back in…Mauryville?” I didn’t know where that was, or if I’d even gotten the name right, but Eric nodded. “So they weren’t close? At least not as far
as you were concerned?”

  Eric gave a short, harsh laugh. “No, they were not close.”

  It was my turn to frown. I knew from Dawn and Martin that they would have been thrilled to never see Owen again, so why had he come back to town in the first place? To torture them? To remind Martin that he still had a way to blackmail him with regards to the borrowed money? Neither of those reasons seemed like one that would bring the black sheep of the family back home for the holidays.

  “So if Owen wasn’t close with them, why was he here for Thanksgiving?”

  Eric offered a small smile. “Because he wanted to make amends with them.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Amends?”

  “That’s what he told me,” Eric said, nodding. “Said something about how he hadn’t been home in a while and how it might be time to pay everyone a visit. I said maybe Thanksgiving wasn’t the best time to go, especially if he was gonna hassle them, and he said he didn’t want to do that anymore. He said he wanted to make up with Dawn, set things right.”

  I stared at him. “He really said that?” I thought about what I’d witnessed at the bar the day before, and the stuff Dawn and Martin had told me. “And you believed him?”

  “Look, I know Owen could be a jerk, but he had a nice side to him, too. It was there. And he’d been making noises for a while about his family, especially after my old man died.”

  “Your dad passed away?”

  Eric nodded. “Lung cancer. Back in May.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded again. “So, Owen saw me go through that and we got to talking one night and he said something about his family, and how Dawn was all he had left. And how maybe he should start trying to be a brother…something along those lines, anyway.”

  “Which is why he came for Thanksgiving?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he said it would be the perfect time to visit. You know, since Thanksgiving is all about being thankful and celebrating with your family.”

  I was still trying to piece together Eric’s words with Owen’s actions. I could easily see how Owen might have a change of heart in his attitude, especially after witnessing a friend lose a loved one. But that still didn’t square with what I’d witnessed at the bar. Maybe old habits died hard. Maybe he’d had a change of heart when he arrived, or realized that as much as he wanted to be a “brother” he just didn’t know how to do so.