To Die For. Sharon Green
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Mike nodded in answer to the question. He’d known people like that, just as everyone did.
“Our mother never did see through him, but Dad finally did,” Tanda continued. “There was some sort of trouble with the police, and when Dad brought Don home there was a big fight. Don kept insisting he was innocent, Mom supported him, Dad yelled that Don had been caught in the act. All Dad wanted Don to do was admit his guilt and show something in the way of remorse, I think. It didn’t happen, because the only thing Don was sorry about was the fact that he’d been caught.”
She paused to sip her coffee again, and then she shook her head.
“When I got home from school the next day, Don was gone. He’d taken the emergency money Mom kept in a jar behind the preserves, and had left with as many of his clothes as he could stuff into a single valise. It was obvious why he’d left, but Mom insisted he’d done it to keep from being railroaded. Not only did Dad lose the bail money he’d posted, but Mom made him offer money as reparation to the people accusing Don. If he hadn’t made the reparation, then the people involved wouldn’t have dropped the complaint against Don, and Don would have been a wanted man wherever he went.”
“And it never occurred to your mother that if you’re innocent you stay and fight,” Mike couldn’t help remarking. “Especially if your family is willing to stand behind you.”
“It wasn’t entirely Mom’s fault,” Tanda answered wearily. “Don never let her see the ugly side of him. All she knew was that Don was her son and she loved him. Mom kept insisting she understood why Don had disappeared like that, but he hadn’t even left her a note to say goodbye. When more and more time went by and there wasn’t a single word from him, she must have begun to suspect the truth. It made her grieve herself to death.”
Mike could see the anger in Tanda, remembered anger that was still strong. It made the cop in him stir uneasily, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Dad took her death hard, and when Don finally came back—three years after the day he disappeared—Dad refused even to see Don.” Tanda had taken a deep breath, and it seemed to have calmed her. “My big brother had apparently done very well for himself, and everything about him screamed money. He seemed to think we would welcome him back as soon as he paid for any inconvenience he might have caused…
“Well, Dad refused to talk to him, but I didn’t,” Tanda stated, defiance clear in her eyes again. “First I made him come up with the money Dad had thrown away getting him free of all charges, and then I told Don what I thought of him. Don didn’t stay for the whole speech—I guess the truth made him too uncomfortable—and although he was here the whole month, he never tried to come back to the house. It must have finally gotten through that we didn’t want to know him.”
“But now you’re trying to find the person who killed your brother,” Mike pointed out. “Are you doing it out of respect for your mother’s memory, or is there another reason?”
“My dad died less than a year ago,” Tanda said, now toying with her coffee cup. “I wouldn’t have gotten in touch with Don even if I’d known where he was, so I was shocked when he showed up for the funeral. He paid for everything, mourned alone, then left again without even trying to speak to me. He seemed…quieter than usual, somehow changed, and when he came back at the beginning of this month he sent a note asking me to have dinner with him.”
“And you went,” Mike said, knowing it for a fact. “Did you find out if he really was changed?”
“Maybe I was kidding myself,” she answered with a shrug and a sigh. “All I know is that his practiced charm wasn’t beating me over the head any longer, and what he wanted to talk about was our time as kids. I found out in passing that he was a widower, and I hadn’t even known he’d been married. I think it had finally come to him that he and I were the last of the family, and he was trying to make things right between us.”
“But before he could do it he was killed,” Mike summed up, finally understanding. “He might not have been serious about it, but now you’ll never know.”
“But I will know who killed him,” she said, staring at Mike fiercely. “It’s a final gesture I owe my brother, even if he wasn’t serious. What else can I tell you?”
“How about the details of your own whereabouts?” Mike said, taking advantage of the moment. “Saxon called you last night, and arranged to see you in person this morning. What time did he call, and where were you from then until you got here?”
“He called about seven-thirty last night,” she said, again frowning in thought. “I went to bed early, and was out by four this morning to track fugitives.”
“To do what?” Mike asked, looking up from his notebook to blink at her. “You couldn’t have said what I thought you did.”
“Oh, we weren’t tracking real fugitives,” she answered with a laugh that brightened her whole face. “It’s what the exercise is called, and I usually have friends doing the remote part. Teddy went first this morning, and she performed beautifully.”
“It’s obvious that I’m missing something here,” Mike said, still staring. “Who is Teddy, and what sort of exercises were you doing?”
“I thought you knew,” Tanda said with a smile replacing the laugh. “I raise and train bloodhounds, and right now Teddy is my star pupil. Yesterday afternoon one of my friends laid a trail through Rimsdale Mall, visiting certain prearranged stores before leaving by a specified exit. At four this morning Teddy followed that trail, and found every stop her quarry had made. Doing the tracking with no one around is to keep onlookers from getting upset.”
“But you said the trail was laid yesterday afternoon,” Mike protested. “Since the mall doesn’t close until 9:00 p.m., how could there still be a trail after so many people have walked over it? There’d be nothing left to follow.”
“For you and me, maybe, but not for a really good bloodhound,” Tanda corrected with amusement. “Teddy’s father once followed a trail that was laid through a site that was about to be used for a three-day Renaissance fair. He wasn’t put on the trail until the fair was over, but he still had no trouble. Very often the hardest part is to train your tracker to follow the trail, not shortcut to the end of it. If the trail is too short and the person being tracked is standing at the end of it, that’s what happens.”
“That’s something I’d like to see someday,” Mike said, seriously fascinated. “So you were out this morning tracking fugitives. Was there anyone with you?”
“Only Teddy and Masher,” Tanda admitted, losing her amusement. “They may be good trackers, but they lack something as witnesses. I hadn’t realized that I could end up being a suspect.”
“Right now I’m only collecting information,” Mike soothed, surprised to find that he didn’t consider Tanda a suspect. “Since your own movements can’t be confirmed, let’s go back to Saxon’s. You told him all about your brother, and then what did he do?”
“He asked about where Don had been staying, then wanted directions to the local newspaper office,” Tanda responded. “I told him about Don’s house, but I don’t know if he went to look at it.”
“That’s the house your brother bought and renovated five years ago?”