Stan nodded and looked away. “I can’t count the number of times that Detective Sharp asked me this question over the years.” Stan’s voice shifted from conversational to mechanical. “Brian and I were at the baseball field. We hit a few balls, practiced some fielding, but mostly we were there to drink beer and blow off some steam. We called your dad, but he said he couldn’t come.”
“What time did you leave the field?” Lance asked.
Stan lifted his hands. “Around eleven. Your mother had left a message while I was out. She was looking for Vic. I called her back, but she wasn’t home.”
Jenny had been driving around looking for her husband at that time.
“Thank you for your time, Stan.” Lance stood. “Can we call you if we have more questions?”
“Of course.” Stan shook their hands. “I wish I could tell you what happened to your dad.”
“Thanks.” Lance led the way out of the house and back to the Jeep. “Is it my imagination or did Stan’s statement about his whereabouts sound rehearsed?”
“It did, but remember he’s answered those questions many times.”
“You’re right. Sharp kept poking at the case.”
“Are you all right?” Morgan asked after they climbed into the vehicle and fastened their seat belts.
“Yes.” Lance stared through the windshield. “I put my dad on a pedestal. I always thought of my life as two distinct time periods: before and after. Before was perfect, and my father’s disappearance was an independent event that made it all go to hell. But that wasn’t true. My parents had their share of problems before he went missing. Now I have to determine if those problems had anything to do with his disappearance.” Lance paused. “Or Mary’s murder. We can’t forget that a young woman died that night, and her death is somehow connected to my dad.”
Chapter Fourteen
“That’s Brian Leed. He’s a sales rep for a dental equipment manufacturer.” Lance recognized the man raking leaves in front of a Cape Cod–style house in a middle-class suburb.
Morgan checked the photo in her file. “How old is he?”
“Too old to be wearing skinny jeans,” Lance said. Brian had buttoned the tight pants below a small paunch.
“Maybe his kids bought them for him.”
Lance parked at the curb, and they got out of the vehicle.
The man stopped raking and approached them. “Can I help you?”
“Brian Leed?” Lance asked.
“That’s me.” Brian leaned on his rake. His eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Lance Kruger.”
Brian straightened. “Geez. You got big.”
Lance shook his hand. “This is my associate Morgan Dane. We’d like to ask you a few questions about my father.”
“Of course.” Brian turned, gesturing them to follow him. “Come inside.”
The garage door was up. He hung his rake on the way past a long, low car covered in a tarp. One corner had been folded up, revealing the shiny black fender of a sports car. Inside the house, a short hall opened into the kitchen.
Unlike her husband, Natalie Leed wasn’t fighting the years. She’d gained weight. Her blonde hair was short and streaked with gray. A blue apron declared her the “World’s Best Grandma.”
Brian introduced Morgan to his wife and then said, “Nat, do you remember Lance Kruger?”
Natalie’s mouth formed an O as she shook Lance’s hand. “Oh. Wow. Didn’t you grow up handsome?”
“He wants to talk about Vic,” Brian said.
“Of course.” She gestured to the table. “Please sit. I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
They slid around an oak table and Natalie served coffee in dainty little cups with gold rims. Morgan sipped hers, her eyes closing briefly with appreciation.
Natalie Leed set a thermal coffee carafe on the table, then went to the counter to open a cookie jar shaped like a rooster. She loaded a plate with cookies.
“I try to keep in shape, but Natalie is just too damned good of a baker.” Brian’s arms were muscled enough to suggest he spent some time in the gym.
In contrast to Stan Adams’s pretentious and aloof McMansion, the Leeds’ house felt homey and warm. Knickknacks—some of which looked like clumsy grade-school clay projects—and photographs of children crowded the surfaces of tables and bookcases. Not a speck of dust clung to any of the clutter.
Lance had been in the house before, a long time in the past. In his mind, he pictured a summer day, tables in the yard, balloons tied to the backs of chairs, kids running and laughing. A birthday party?
But as comfortable as the house felt, Brian’s occasional side-eye triggered Lance’s suspicion.
“Are those your grandchildren?” Morgan pointed to a pair of school pictures that hung on the wall.
“Yes.” Crow’s-feet crinkled around Natalie’s eyes. Her smile beamed with pride. “Joshua is six, and Kayla is five.”
“And Natalie spoils them rotten,” Brian said with a hint of criticism.
“That’s my job.” Natalie shot him a look that said their marriage wasn’t as perfect as Lance had imagined. “I’m their grandma.”
Brian gave her a quick, irritated frown, then his face turned serious. “We saw that the police pulled your dad’s car from the lake on the news. I assume that’s why you’re here?”
“Yes,” Lance said.
“We haven’t heard any updates.” Brian lowered his voice. “They said a body was found in the car. Was it Vic?”
“No,” Lance said. “Did either of you know a woman named Mary Fox?”
Brian stared at his plate, his brows lowered, his mouth set. “I don’t think so.”
Natalie shook her head. “That name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“She was a waitress at PJ’s,” Lance prompted.
Brian played with his fork. “There were several waitresses at PJ’s. Can you describe her?”
“I can do better than that.” Morgan reached for the tote next to her chair. Pulling it onto her lap, she removed a picture from the side pocket. “This was Mary.”
Natalie took the picture. “I remember her.” She frowned as she passed it to Brian.
Brian’s jaw shifted as he took the photo. “Oh, that Mary. Her last name was Fox? Yeah, I remember her. Why?” He handed the picture back to Morgan, as if he couldn’t wait to get it out of his hands.
Lance dropped the bomb. “Her skeleton was found in the trunk of my father’s car.”
Brian gaped. “That makes no sense.”
“Did she seem to have a special relationship with Vic?” Morgan moved her notebook to her lap and wrote something down.
Brian looked away.
“I don’t think so,” Natalie said. “But I only went to PJ’s once in a while. Brian, Stan, and Vic were the regulars.” Natalie cleared her throat, her lips pursing in a prudish frown. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn’t a very nice girl. She seemed to enjoy flirting with married men when their wives were sitting right there.”
Brian stared at his plate. “She flirted with everyone. That’s just the way she was.”
“Did you hear anything about her soliciting from the bar?” Lance asked.
Natalie sniffed. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”
Brian winced. “There were rumors.”
“Did either of you notice when Mary suddenly stopped working at PJ’s?” Morgan asked.
“No.” Natalie broke off a piece of cookie. “There were other waitresses. She wasn’t there every time I went anyway.”
“No. Maybe.” Brian still wouldn’t meet Lance’s gaze. Was he hiding something or was Lance overly suspicious? “Like Natalie said, we wouldn’t give much thought to a change in waitstaff.”
Lance changed topic. “Did you notice anything unusual about my dad in the weeks before he disappeared?”
Brian toyed with a cookie. “He was worried about your mom. She seemed overwhelmed all the time.”