Another Chance (A Penelope Chance Mystery Book 2) Page 12

  “I didn’t do this!” Belinda cried out, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “Those are not my drugs! I don’t know how they got there.”

  “Please, Officer,” Jacob said, hands outstretched toward Belinda like he physically wanted to help. “No handcuffs. She’ll go quietly. Won’t you Belinda?”

  His eyes were warm and reassuring. He was that way with patients when he did something that would help them but might also hurt them.

  Belinda nodded slowly.

  “It’s okay, Gail.” Donny said motioning for Officer Watson to remove the handcuffs.

  Belinda dropped her head and followed Meeks, Watson, and the two other officers out of the clinic to a waiting Gainesville police cruiser.

  Donny walked out behind them and then turned back. “Chance. You coming?”

  CHAPTER 43

  Two hours later, Penelope stood in the observation room behind a two-way mirror. On the other side of the glass, Belinda Crowe sat slumped in a chair at a table in the middle of the interrogation room. She looked as if her life had ended.

  This was not the cheerful lady that welcomed everyone to the Franklin Clinic. Her cheeks were pink, her mascara was smudged, and hair was tousled and out of place—presumably from the same jittery hands that were now picking at the remnants of her glossy red fingernail polish.

  In the movies, and on TV, interrogation rooms were usually big, well lit and some even had windows. Interrogation Room 2 at the Gainesville Special Operation Division Headquarters was small. The floors were plain concrete, and the cinder block walls were painted an impersonal, institutional green. The room had no windows, and the low ceiling gave the space a cube-like feel. The furniture consisted of two, straight-back metal chairs and a six-by-four-foot metal table anchored to the floor.

  Detective Donny Greene entered the interrogation room, and Belinda glanced up, her eyes wide and wild, like a trapped animal.

  “Ms. Crowe, you’ve been read your rights?”

  Belinda nodded in small, quick movements. “This is crazy. I didn’t kill that man,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying.

  Donny placed a manila folder and a notepad on the metal table and took a seat across from Belinda, with his back to Penelope.

  “We just want to get to the bottom of this, Ms. Crowe,” he said in a reassuring tone.

  “This is all a big mistake,” she said.

  “You have a chance to come clean here. If I were you, I’d take it.”

  “I didn’t do it,” she pleaded.

  Penelope’s cell phone vibrated, and she glanced at the caller ID. It was Gabriel. She let the call go to voice mail and turned her attention back to the interrogation.

  “Belinda, tell me about your relationship with Kevin Scott,” Donny continued.

  Belinda shook her head. “I didn’t know him.”

  Donny didn’t argue. Instead, he tapped his fingers on the folder in front of him and looked at Belinda with a blank expression. It was an interrogation technique Penelope knew well. If you kept quiet for long enough, the right answer would come out. People tended to keep filling the silence if they had the chance.

  “I don’t know Kevin Scott,” Belinda finally said, breaking the silence.

  Donny remained silent, opened the folder in front of him, and one by one slid a DMV photo, a crime scene photo, and an autopsy photo of the victim, across the table in front of Belinda. She gasped and pushed the photos away.

  Donny pushed the DMV photo back and said, “Look carefully, Ms. Crowe.”

  She paused, “Maybe a patient at the Franklin Clinic? I can’t say for sure. Not a regular. I know that.”

  The door to the interrogation room opened, and Officer Gail Watson stepped in. She handed Donny a couple of sheets of paper and left the room.

  Donny scanned the contents and then looked up. “Ms. Crowe, have you ever been a patient at the Gainesville Recovery Center?”

  CHAPTER 44

  Belinda Crowe denied being a patient at the Gainesville Recovery Center and then clarified. “I worked at the Gainesville Recovery Center. I was never a patient.”

  Donny glanced at the stack of papers in front of him. “During your employment at the Gainesville Recovery Center, you didn’t meet Mr. Scott?”

  “Mr. Scott? No.”

  “Well, that’s interesting Ms. Crowe, because the center’s records indicate that he was a patient the same time you worked there.”

  “A lot of people were patients the same time I worked there.”

  “It says here you were a clinical associate for a Dr. Teresa Behrmann.”

  “That is correct.”

  “And you assisted Dr. Behrmann . . . monitoring client and program activities?”

  “I did.”

  “So you got to know Dr. Behrmann’s patients pretty well?”

  “Most of them, yes.”

  “Well, Ms. Crowe, Mr. Scott’s medical records indicate that he was a patient at the Gainesville Recovery Center and he was in Dr. Behrmann’s group therapy class. A class you assisted.”

  “I don’t re—” Belinda paused, and her eyes went wide as if a distant memory had finally resurfaced. She took another look at Kevin Scott’s DMV photo, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Ms. Crowe, I’ll ask again. Do you know Kevin Scott?” the detective pressed.

  “Yes . . . sort of,” Belinda sobbed. “Only he had a beard back then . . . and he didn’t have that scar across his eye and eyebrow. He was in Dr. Behrmann’s group. I only knew him by his first name. I can’t believe it’s the same Kevin. I didn’t know him very well. I can’t believe he’s dead.”

  Donny nodded. “Were you and Mr. Scott partners?”

  “Partners? No, that would have been unprofessional.”

  “I’m not talking about an intimate relationship, Ms. Crowe,” Donny interrupted. “When did you last speak with Mr. Scott?”

  “Must have been three years ago . . . at the rehab center.”

  “And no contact since?”

  Belinda shook her head. “No.”

  “Not even as a patient at the Franklin Clinic?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Which is it, Ms. Crowe? No, or you don’t think so?”

  Penelope watched as Donny switched to bad cop.

  “No.”

  “Were you and Mr. Scott dealing drugs?”

  Belinda gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles went white. “I said I never saw him again, and I certainly wasn’t dealing drugs.”

  Donny flipped to another page. “You used to work at Grace Memorial Hospital. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “As a medical receptionist in the clinic?”

  “Yes.”

  “The same clinic that was robbed last Friday?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why were you let go, Ms. Crowe?”

  Belinda sat silent.

  “Ms. Crowe? Why were you let go?” Donny pressed.

  “They did a random drug test, and I tested positive for pain medication. But that was for an ankle injury,” she quickly added. “What does this have to—”

  “Was that the only reason for your termination?”

  Belinda looked flustered. “No.”

  “Medication also went missing during your shifts. Is that correct?”

  “But that wasn’t me. I didn’t steal those drugs.”

  “That drug test wasn’t random, was it, Ms. Crowe? The hospital tested everyone that worked at the free clinic, but you were the only one that tested positive. Positive for the same medication that went missing.”

  “That was a—”

  “A what, Ms. Crowe?” Donny interrupted. “Another big mistake?” Belinda looked visibly upset, and her eyes welled up again. Donny was not going easy on her. “You had a pretty good operation going there for a while. Until the hospital caught on and you were terminated.”

  Belinda’s eyes shot up and met Donny’s. “It wasn’t like that.”

&
nbsp; “Yet, somehow you managed to get a job at the Franklin Clinic.”

  “Dr. Gordon gave me a job at the Franklin Clinic because he knew I wasn’t stealing drugs from the hospital.”

  Penelope’s skin prickled. Was that true? Jacob never mentioned anything about Belinda’s past to her or why he gave her the job.

  “So Dr. Gordon . . . he’s a pretty great guy,” Donny continued.

  “Yes. He gave me a second chance. He believed in me.”

  “Is that why you returned his belongings?”

  “Someone else returned his belongings. I found them when I got there.”

  “It’s convenient that you were the one that found them, isn’t it? And isn’t it also convenient how the envelope just happened to get tossed in the trash?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Here’s what I think happened, Ms. Crowe,” Donny said leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “I think you have a little crush on your boss, Dr. Gordon. I’m not an expert on this sort of thing, but I understand he’s a pretty good-looking guy. A real sweetheart, too. So it was only natural that when you found out your drug dealing friend and his partner shot Dr. Gordon, you got upset. So upset you killed Mr. Scott and dumped his body in the Franklin River.”

  “That’s not true! That’s not true at all! None of it . . .”

  “What about Mr. Scott’s partner? Did you kill him too?”

  “I didn’t kill anybody. I didn’t do this.”

  “You had last Friday off, Ms. Crowe. Where were you between the hours of twelve o’clock and three o’clock?”

  “I was home until two thirty.”

  “Can anyone confirm that?”

  “No.”

  Penelope took a deep breath as she watched. No alibi for the time of the robbery. This was not looking good for Belinda.

  “What about after two thirty? Where were you then?” Donny continued.

  “I didn’t do this,” Belinda sounded more determined. “Look, I know I made mistakes in my past, but theft and murder aren’t included.”

  “Then how do you explain the drugs in your desk drawer? The same drugs Mr. Scott and his partner stole from the pharmacy where you used to work.”

  “Someone put them there. Not me,” Belinda said with conviction. “Everyone has access to the reception desk.”

  “We’ll find out the truth, Ms. Crowe. This is your last chance. Come clean now. Where were you Friday afternoon?”

  “I was driving to The Villages to visit my grandmother. I spent the night and drove back early Saturday morning. You can check.”

  “We will, Ms. Crowe. We will.”

  CHAPTER 45

  After a few more questions, Donny gave Belinda one more stare, stood, and then left the interrogation room. Penelope watched as Belinda lowered her head, rested it on the edge of the table and started to cry.

  Detective Donny Greene stepped into the observation room. “That was a tough one,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and flexing his head from side to side. He strode up to Penelope and looked through the window. “What do you think?”

  “She doesn’t seem like the type,” Penelope answered.

  “They rarely do.”

  Penelope turned to face Donny. “Do you really think she was involved somehow?”

  “Until we confirm her alibi, she’s our best suspect.”

  “Only suspect,” Penelope said.

  “I’m not ready to convict her of murder yet. But, Officer Watson did confirm the drugs are from the same batch stolen from Grace Memorial. It’s a long shot, but I’m going to have the bottles run for prints.”

  “If Belinda’s alibi checks out, how did they get into her desk?” Penelope asked, thinking out loud.

  “Well, they didn’t crawl in there on their own. We’ll know more once the fingerprint results come back.”

  Donny excused himself and left the room. Penelope turned and looked back through the two-way mirror to the crying Belinda. Her head was still down, but her sobs had slowed to a soft whimper.

  Penelope’s heartstrings ached for the woman. She had only known Belinda for the past year, but she liked her. Jacob had never mentioned anything about her past, but she hadn’t asked, either. It was just like him to give someone another chance. He saw the good in everyone and never judged. Those were qualities that she loved about him. Maybe Jacob hadn’t confided in her about Belinda’s termination as a courtesy to Belinda, and she respected that.

  Penelope’s phone rang and when she saw Jacob’s number, she answered immediately.

  “Have you finished interrogating my office manager?” he asked.

  Penelope immediately felt a bit defensive. “Donny had to bring her in, Jacob. You saw what was in her desk. He had to talk to her.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Jacob said, sounding frantic.

  “I know,” Penelope agreed, “but it’s going to be alright. God will look out for her, and if she’s innocent, it will come to light. Don’t worry. Just trust Him. I have a feeling it’s going to work out.”

  Jacob sighed with a shudder.

  Penelope understood the feeling. It was a shock when someone you knew got arrested for a crime you never thought they were capable of committing. “As soon as I know more I’ll let you know,” she added.

  “Can we get together for dinner tonight?”

  “I’d love that,” Penelope said.

  “Pick me up at the clinic?”

  “Sure. And Jacob . . .”

  “Yes, Penny?”

  “Remember . . . I love you.”

  “I love you back, Penny.”

  Penelope hung up and looked through the glass. Belinda was wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands. She had only been in the interrogation room for a few hours, but it looked like she had aged a decade. Penelope looked for any signs of guilt and spoke to the glass. “If you didn’t put the drugs in your desk, someone else put them there. But who else had access to the clinic and your desk?”

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER 46

  Early that Tuesday evening Penelope’s car sat idle in the Franklin Clinic parking lot. After the day she just had, a pair of fuzzy slippers and a giant cup of hot cocoa with the man she loved would be the perfect way to end the day.

  It would also help to vent to someone. Penelope didn’t usually have so much to unload—she was normally pretty good at compartmentalizing her emotions. Then again, under normal circumstances, she was able to distance herself from a case. But this case was different. It was about Jacob.

  Lately, it seemed like all her cases were getting personal. First the case with Doug and now with Jacob. Her emotional reaction to the events—because they were so personal—wasn’t always professional and that bothered her. She had always prided herself on how well she did her job.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had to keep it together. There were still a lot of missing pieces to this puzzle. As soon as they were revealed, she would figure it out, and this emotional rollercoaster could come to an end.

  “Dear Lord,” she prayed, “please give Donny the wisdom he needs to do his job. And if it is your will, Lord, please allow me to assist him so we can put the pieces together quickly, without anyone else getting hurt. Amen.”

  Penelope massaged her temples in small circles and glanced at the time on her phone: 5:58 p.m.

  Right on time, Jacob swung the passenger door open and hopped in. By looking at him, you’d never know that he’d been shot and knocked out four days earlier.

  “Thanks for the ride, Penny.”

  “Anytime. What’s wrong with the Mustang?”

  “Oh, nothing. I drove home for lunch and decided to jog back . . . to clear my head.”

  “I hope you took it easy.”

  “I’ve been careful, Officer,” he said, a smile playing around his lips. “You hungry?” he added quickly.

  “I had a late lunch. But I could eat.” She wasn’t that hungry, but she needed to spen
d some time with Jacob and make sure he was doing okay. Just seeing him now was reassuring, and for the first time all day, she felt at peace.

  “We could go to my place. I’ll make us some spaghetti.”

  Penelope was familiar with Jacob’s spaghetti and meat sauce. He wasn’t much of a cook, having been a bachelor most of his adult life, but he had managed to master his mother’s pasta.

  CHAPTER 47

  After a mostly silent, though not uncomfortable, drive to Jacob’s house, Penelope sat on a high stool in his kitchen. She watched as he made the meat sauce and told her about an interesting study he had read in the Army Medical Department Journal.

  Although honorably discharged from the U.S. Army, Jacob still liked to read up on the latest advances in battlefield medicine. She couldn’t always follow his explanations of the more complicated medical terms, but it was how he blew off steam, so she was happy to listen. It helped to take her mind off of crime so she could enjoy this time with her fiancé.

  She watched him deftly combine the ingredients for the sauce, mixing cans of stewed tomatoes with oregano, rosemary and a pinch of sugar. Even with an injured shoulder, Jacob’s movements looked practiced and professional, but his cooking prowess was limited to pasta and steak.

  Most of the time, Penelope cooked, or they ordered takeout, but she enjoyed watching him take control in the kitchen. The way his broad shoulders bent over the mixing bowl and how he was able to do three things at once.

  Penelope hopped off the stool and took two plates out of the cupboard. She rummaged in the drawer for knives and forks and set the dining room table.

  She knew where everything was, and they moved together like long-time dance partners. The past six months had been so busy that she’d forgotten how comfortable it was being with him. Once this whole mess was over, they could get back to what mattered—being together.