handgun, which we did not find. This morning, forensics confirmed that the green smear from the garage floor is the same green clay found in Holly Thorpe’s trunk. The clay also matched the type used on the Becketts’ tennis court. Last, I spoke with the twins, Timothy and Noah. Timothy is still in Michigan. I assigned a deputy to verify his alibi, but it seems strong.”
“I sense a but coming.” Bree settled back in her chair.
Matt’s eyes gleamed, not unlike a cat that had spotted a mouse. “Noah is here in Grey’s Hollow.”
“Angela Beckett thinks he’s in North Carolina.”
“He says he finished the term early. He didn’t want to get in the middle of his parents’ separation, so he’s staying with a friend. He has no alibi.”
“Interesting.” Bree hated to think of a son killing his own father, but she’d seen family kill family many times before. High emotions, personal histories, and conflicting loyalties often blurred the line between love and hate. “Did you get any sense of the boys’ relationship with their dad?”
“Paul worked a lot. They both seem closer to their mother, but neither one would talk about their parents’ relationship over the phone.”
“Let’s get Noah in for an interview.”
“He’s on his way.” Matt grinned. “I wanted to get a statement from him ASAP. Once his mother finds out he was in town and has no alibi for his father’s death, she’ll lawyer him up and shut us down.”
“I’m sure you’re right. She’ll do whatever it takes to protect her kids.”
Marge buzzed in with an armload of paperwork. Sharp eyes assessed Bree. “You look awful.”
“Thanks,” Bree said. “Don’t worry. I’ll put on makeup before the press con.”
“Don’t.” Marge shook her head. “Let them see how much you’re sacrificing. Everyone rallies behind a wounded hero.”
Bree bristled. “I’m not acting here.”
“I know, and that’s why people trust you. But like it or not, you’re a politician now.” Marge set down the papers and pointed to a line marked with a blue sticky tab. “You want money for renovations to the station?”
“Yes.” Bree scanned the paper and signed her name.
Marge flipped the page. “The more popular you are with the public, the more leverage you have with the county board of supervisors. They’ll be less able to put you off if you have public support.”
Bree signed several more papers. “I don’t like playing games.”
“I’m not suggesting you be anything other than genuine. You don’t need to be. But you can use circumstances to your advantage.” Marge collected her papers and hugged them to her body. “Remember, the games are there whether you like them or not. The only choice you have is to try to beat them or let them win.”
“I don’t like to lose,” Bree admitted.
“Then you have to stay ahead of those cagey bastards that control our budget. You need to anticipate how they’re going to try to screw this department out of money. They will only support you if it’s in their own best interests. You have to make that so. Remember, they’ve been at this a very long time. They know how the game works, and they are always thinking a few moves ahead.”
A bright spot of anger bloomed in Bree’s chest. She hated politics, but Marge was right. She had to play chess, not Candy Land. “I want that damned locker room.”
“That’s better.” Marge raised a penciled eyebrow. “Now, Angela Beckett is here. Where do you want her?”
“Interview room one.” Bree gathered a pen and notepad, though she didn’t rush. She didn’t mind letting Angela, a woman accustomed to getting her own way, wait. In Bree’s experience, wealthy people often felt above the law. Bree wanted Angela’s feet firmly on the ground. “When Noah Beckett arrives, please put him in room two immediately. I don’t want his mother to see him.”
“All right.” Marge turned and left the office.
Bree turned to Matt. “Let’s go talk to Mrs. Beckett.” She tucked her notepad under her sling. “I need coffee and sugar.”
They stopped in the break room. Bree bought a pack of M&M’s from the vending machine and ate a few pieces of candy while Matt made two cups of coffee. The sugar and chocolate perked up her brain. Then she bought a second pack.
Coffee in hand, they went down the hall and opened the door to the conference room. Angela sat with her back to the wall. She wore gray slacks, a blue silk blouse, and gorgeous gray pumps that cost more than a regular person’s mortgage payment.