tapped the yearbook cover. “So was Wayne Engle. He and Monica had a relationship after high school. Maybe Matthew resulted. Maybe he was the cause of the argument at the reunion. Maybe Wayne hadn’t stepped up to his responsibilities. That wouldn’t go over well with Brennan, would it, Cory?”
Cory thought for a moment before answering. “He takes the law and business ethics very seriously. That’s why he hates the rumor about what he’s hiding in his foundations. He doesn’t like any hint of irresponsibility. He conducts his personal life the same way.”
“Interesting theory.” Catherine made a note. “We’ll confirm Matthew’s parentage. Maybe Wayne Engle was named his godfather for that reason. Matthew might have pushed him in front of the car because he was angry not to be recognized as his child. We’ll consider the possibility.”
I wondered if Catherine knew more about the investigation than us. Perhaps the sheriff’s department had improved the resolution enough on the YouTube video to recognize him. “Do you know for a fact that Matthew was close enough to the scene to do that?”
She shook her head. “It’s still early in the investigation. The sheriff’s department is keeping anything they find out very tight to the vest. That’s why I need to send my own investigator. I’m just surmising from the questions they asked Brennan.”
And she’d surmised Matthew was a suspect, which made sense. He certainly hadn’t seemed too upset by the loss of his father.
She turned to a fresh sheet of paper. “All right, I have some questions for you two. First, I want to know everything that happened while you were in Albany and Binghamton.”
Cory and I retold the story together as a tag team, filling in each other’s pauses. Catherine asked a few questions but mostly just let us ramble along uninterrupted.
When we finished, Catherine wrote for a few minutes, then she scanned pages of notes she must have written on a previous day. “Are you sure Matthew Gleason said he met Brennan once?”
Cory and I glanced at each other to confirm. I nodded slowly. “Positive.”
She made another note. I read it upside down. It said, “Get a picture of Matthew Gleason to show Brennan.”
I shifted my gaze to Cory, who seemed to be reading the same line. His eyes met mine. He opened his mouth first. “Brennan doesn’t know Matthew?”
Catherine closed her notebook and gave Cory a sympathetic glance. “I know it seems unfair, but I can’t tell you anything Brennan said to me. At this point, I don’t recommend you ask him questions, either. I know he calls you, but you don’t want to know anything about this case. You could end up being called to testify against him. You don’t want that, do you?”
Cory swallowed. “Definitely not. Jolene and I wondered if we caused Wayne Engle’s death by asking as many questions as we did. We wanted to help Brennan, not hurt anyone.”
Catherine pulled her briefcase onto her lap and tucked her notebook and pen away inside. “If it’s any consolation, I think you helped his first case. No way will any judge or jury believe Elizabeth Smith’s testimony against him. She’s too suspect herself. I don’t even know if the DA will take it to trial once he understands all the relationships involved. We might never have uncovered them all if you hadn’t asked questions. Brennan could have sat in the courtroom and watched Elizabeth testify, never realizing who she was. It’s been years since they’ve seen each other, and she’s a new woman.”
I took some comfort in Catherine’s words, but not enough to erase the guilt of possibly contributing to a man’s death. Cory and I would carry that with us for a long time to come.
Catherine snapped me out of my reverie. “Jolene, Danny’s father was arraigned this morning. He pleaded not guilty. His bail was set at five thousand dollars. He had two hundred in his pocket when he was arrested. He said he doesn’t have access to more money, so he’ll have to stay in jail. I got the earliest court date possible, a month from now. I may have questions for you later on regarding his case as well, but right now I have to focus on Brennan.”
Catherine placed her briefcase on the table and stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her navy skirt. Once again today, she wore a stunning suit with matching heels, and I had to admire her sense of style. Sadly, I purchased all my style at Talbots, under Celeste’s