“Jimmy and I have gone over Ben’s paperwork. The only mention of a Daniel isn’t Albrecht. Ben created a list of Daniels in the Bay Area. Could he have been looking for a Daniel with the last name that started with an A? Because he lists different Daniels. I have an Abbott and an Alderman along with a series of other Daniels, all with an A for the last name.”
“Maybe he was searching for the right guy, and he happened on Albrecht,” Jimmy offered. “There has to be a reason Albrecht came here.”
“Whatever the reason, it got him killed,” Lando surmised.
“What are you guys talking about?” Dale said, raising his voice. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Daniel Albrecht went to San Francisco State with Jocelyn Trask. That nugget is huge. That must be why Ben wanted to talk to him. Maybe, just maybe, Albrecht had information on Jocelyn that Ben needed to hear.”
“Keep digging through Ben’s stuff and everything else you can find that came out of his desk. I’ll read through his notes again. The answer is in there somewhere. One of us just has to find it.”
“Are we still keeping Jocelyn at the top of our list?” Payce wanted to know. “And if so, should she be under surveillance? She could try to run if we get close.”
“That’s a valid point. But we’re limited in manpower. The crucial thing now is gathering evidence against her. If she runs, we’ll get the Marshalls involved.”
“I don’t think she’s worried too much about our little police department reopening the case,” Jimmy noted. “She’s an arrogant snob.”
Lando cut his eyes across the room to where Jimmy sat. “Why do you say that?”
“Ask anyone around town. Jocelyn acts like the rules don’t apply to her. There’s a story going around that before Ben retired at the post office, he got into it with her about a claim she filed that was by all accounts bogus.”
“Might be a motive for murder,” Dale added. “When did this happen?”
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “About six years back. I doubt she’d wait that long to get her revenge because Ben denied her claim.”
“Probably not,” Lando agreed. “But look into it anyway. Anybody else have relevant input that would advance this case? Any rumors we could follow?”
“Something we should consider is Bruce Barnhart’s long and loyal work history to the Trask family. The killer could be him,” Dale proffered.
“Dig into his background again? Maybe we missed something the first time. Find out where he was Sunday night. Then find out where he was when the Copelands met their demise. Let’s make some progress before we have another victim.”
Gemma had her Saturday all planned out. After digging into Flanner’s past, she decided that she needed to give him some kind of incentive if she intended to bring him back into the community. He had to have a good enough reason to try.
She knew the librarian Elnora Kidman kept old copies of high school yearbooks going back decades. All Gemma was interested in was the year Flanner graduated. She discovered he’d taken Lucy Devereux to the senior prom. There were pictures to prove it—him in his tux, her in a lavender formal—standing with their arms locked around each other.
The snapshot brought tears to Gemma’s eyes. The couple looked so happy like they were headed for a bright future together. But something had happened. Gemma wanted to know the reason, which was why she moved on to search through old phonebooks.
To Gemma’s delight, Lucy Devereux still lived in town. She had never married. She’d gone to college at UC Davis to get her degree in nursing. But instead of moving off to the big city, Lucy had stayed to work locally at Dr. Margaret Kinsdale’s office.
Over the years, Lucy had moved up the ladder to become a nurse practitioner, who often filled in for Margaret when the doctor traveled to conferences or volunteered in other community clinics.
Gemma discovered that Lucy also worked ten hours a week for social services, usually on weekends, visiting families all over the County that couldn’t afford regular medical care. Lucy traveled through the countryside at her own expense and often paid for medicine out of her own pocket.
Without ever setting eyes on the woman, Gemma like Lucy Devereux already.
Gemma’s second stop that morning was Lucy’s house on Pebble Way, a little rambler painted a muted mint green color with white shutters. The flower beds burst with a glorious mix of eye-popping blue sweet peas and