Dooley said. “I remember him. Came in a couple of times. Callie gave him free beer. I don’t usually mind, but she spent more time chatting with him than with the customers.”
Black slid over a photo that was obviously enlarged from Joey’s driver’s license. Joey was listed as five foot ten, blond, and 170 pounds. “Is this the man?”
Dooley nodded.
“That’s not the man who attacked me.”
As soon as she said it, Shauna realized she’d let the truth slip. She hadn’t wanted Dooley to know what happened because it would give him one more thing to stress over. Like he didn’t have enough between Mack’s murder, the funeral, the insurance, and his own grief.
Dooley snapped his fingers. “I knew you were keeping something from me! You’re a poor liar, Shauna.”
She was a damn shitty liar and knew it. “I’m sorry—I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Too late.”
Black interrupted. “Did Mack know him?”
“Most likely,” Dooley said. “Mack knew Callie was dipping, he admitted it when I fired her. He thought she’d stopped, and he’d paid back what she stole. Said he felt bad for her because she had a rough life.”
“I don’t know what story she told Mack, but she lived in a solid middle-class house growing up in San Diego. Her father was former Navy, her mother a school teacher, and she stole over five thousand dollars from them when she disappeared at age nineteen,” Black said. “Garcia spoke with her mother today, and she said the last time Callie contacted her was three months ago. She said she’d been fired from her job and wanted to come home but needed a thousand dollars to pay her back rent and buy a plane ticket. Her mom sent it, but Callie never went home.”
Shauna couldn’t imagine begging to come home and then just taking the money. But she couldn’t imagine disappearing for years after stealing from her parents. She’d never have even thought of it.
She wasn’t naïve. She knew her family was unusually close-knit and considered their bond truly special. Other people had much harder lives, and even though the construction business for the Murphy’s was feast or famine, they’d always stuck together. To steal from family—that was a grave sin in her book.
“Why would Callie rob us?” Dooley said. “She’d know we didn’t have much money that late at night. She knew I took the days receipts when I left.”
Black pondered that. Shauna watched him closely. He was a smart guy, constantly thinking, but he kept his face blank. She hated that. She wanted someone she could read.
“Well?” Shauna prompted.
Black said slowly, “There may have been more to the robbery than money. Perhaps she thought the baseballs were worth more than what they appraised for.”
“That’s thin,” Shauna said. “And you know it.”
Black smiled at her, but his eyes didn’t. “It’s nice you can read my mind so easily.”
She sighed, exasperated. “It’s obvious now that she or her boyfriend knew the Babe Ruth was fake and left it.”
“Which leads credence to the theory you just attributed to me, that they killed Mack for the baseballs.”
“They may have wanted to steal the baseballs, but why would they kill him?”
“Because he could identify them?”
“And why did her boyfriend kill Callie?”
“Maybe she didn’t plan on killing Mack. Threatened to go to the police.”
It made sense. Dammit, it made a lot of sense.
Except. “This Joey Gleason—he didn’t break into Mack’s apartment. It was someone else, someone taller and heavier. A partner? Why? Did Mack have something of value?”
Black smiled, and this time it lit his dark eyes. “Now you really are thinking like a cop,” he said.
She couldn’t decide if he was being condescending or not.
Black said, “I know Mack was a good friend to you both, but was he ever into anything that might have gotten him in trouble? Maybe in the past—did he have friends on the other side of the
Black slid over a photo that was obviously enlarged from Joey’s driver’s license. Joey was listed as five foot ten, blond, and 170 pounds. “Is this the man?”
Dooley nodded.
“That’s not the man who attacked me.”
As soon as she said it, Shauna realized she’d let the truth slip. She hadn’t wanted Dooley to know what happened because it would give him one more thing to stress over. Like he didn’t have enough between Mack’s murder, the funeral, the insurance, and his own grief.
Dooley snapped his fingers. “I knew you were keeping something from me! You’re a poor liar, Shauna.”
She was a damn shitty liar and knew it. “I’m sorry—I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Too late.”
Black interrupted. “Did Mack know him?”
“Most likely,” Dooley said. “Mack knew Callie was dipping, he admitted it when I fired her. He thought she’d stopped, and he’d paid back what she stole. Said he felt bad for her because she had a rough life.”
“I don’t know what story she told Mack, but she lived in a solid middle-class house growing up in San Diego. Her father was former Navy, her mother a school teacher, and she stole over five thousand dollars from them when she disappeared at age nineteen,” Black said. “Garcia spoke with her mother today, and she said the last time Callie contacted her was three months ago. She said she’d been fired from her job and wanted to come home but needed a thousand dollars to pay her back rent and buy a plane ticket. Her mom sent it, but Callie never went home.”
Shauna couldn’t imagine begging to come home and then just taking the money. But she couldn’t imagine disappearing for years after stealing from her parents. She’d never have even thought of it.
She wasn’t naïve. She knew her family was unusually close-knit and considered their bond truly special. Other people had much harder lives, and even though the construction business for the Murphy’s was feast or famine, they’d always stuck together. To steal from family—that was a grave sin in her book.
“Why would Callie rob us?” Dooley said. “She’d know we didn’t have much money that late at night. She knew I took the days receipts when I left.”
Black pondered that. Shauna watched him closely. He was a smart guy, constantly thinking, but he kept his face blank. She hated that. She wanted someone she could read.
“Well?” Shauna prompted.
Black said slowly, “There may have been more to the robbery than money. Perhaps she thought the baseballs were worth more than what they appraised for.”
“That’s thin,” Shauna said. “And you know it.”
Black smiled at her, but his eyes didn’t. “It’s nice you can read my mind so easily.”
She sighed, exasperated. “It’s obvious now that she or her boyfriend knew the Babe Ruth was fake and left it.”
“Which leads credence to the theory you just attributed to me, that they killed Mack for the baseballs.”
“They may have wanted to steal the baseballs, but why would they kill him?”
“Because he could identify them?”
“And why did her boyfriend kill Callie?”
“Maybe she didn’t plan on killing Mack. Threatened to go to the police.”
It made sense. Dammit, it made a lot of sense.
Except. “This Joey Gleason—he didn’t break into Mack’s apartment. It was someone else, someone taller and heavier. A partner? Why? Did Mack have something of value?”
Black smiled, and this time it lit his dark eyes. “Now you really are thinking like a cop,” he said.
She couldn’t decide if he was being condescending or not.
Black said, “I know Mack was a good friend to you both, but was he ever into anything that might have gotten him in trouble? Maybe in the past—did he have friends on the other side of the
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