Honor Code Read Free Page A

hadn’t decided to play God. I don’t know if it was the money or he was tired of taking care of her or what he was thinking. But one day she had hope for a future and the next day she was dead.”
    Fuck.
    “I’m not aware of the particulars of the case. Was an autopsy performed? An investigation?”
    “His doctor covered up everything and you people wouldn’t listen.” She was angry now. A volcano ready to erupt. “He could’ve smothered her with a pillow or overdosed her with morphine. God knows he kept her doped up.”
    How angry was she? Mad enough to lash out at her father? To take matters into her own hands?
    “She was fine when I visited her. She perked right up, asked about my job.”
    Robbins jotted Gloria Beason Washington’s name on his note pad and added a few question marks. He wanted to ask how often she visited, and for how long. He’d seen older people put on a good front for visiting kids. Instead he said, “Like I said, I’m not familiar with the case, but either of those circumstances would’ve shown up in an autopsy.”
    “You’re just like the rest of them. My psychiatrist said I should accept that I can’t change the past. That I should concentrate on finding my own resolution. You’ve heard of Dr. McKinley? She’s a leading innovator in grief management and family reconciliation.”
    Cat Woman. No wonder she reacted to the Beason name.
    “Obviously I couldn’t reconcile things, so I solved it my way.”
    Robbins’ hand tightened around the receiver. Solved it? Did she do something to her father? Years of practice kept his tone level. “That helped? How do you feel about your dad now?”
    “I have no intention of discussing my personal feelings with you. When you’re serious about investigating my mother’s death—and I won’t hold my breath—you can call me.”
    With that, the daughter hung up.
     
    Robbins was still staring at the phone, trying to decide if the daughter’s claims were a lead or a shit pit he didn’t want to crawl through when Jerry Jordan came through the door carrying a greasy bag from Bojangles. Tall and gangly, the kid wore khakis and a navy blue blazer. He looked like a nerdy prep instead of a detective.
    Jordan dumped the food on his desk and said, “A couple of the neighbors mentioned a car leaving around four AM, but no one heard a dog barking.”
    “Why didn’t the dog bark?” Robbins laced his fingers behind his head and studied the ceiling. “Either the neighbors’ hearing’s gone or the dog didn’t bark because she recognized whoever entered the house.”
    “Or they slept right through it.”
    “Maybe. Old people are usually light sleepers.”
    Jordan roamed the squad room, nearly bouncing on his toes with enthusiasm. “What’s our theory? Think Beason left on his own?”
    “Doesn’t look like it. The dog. The ransacked house.” He left out the daughter’s accusations for now.
    “Old man like him. Not the most likely kidnapping target.” Jordan moved to the white-board where they’d listed the known chronology and points of contact.
    “For that community, Beason had money. He owned an electronics shop downtown. The big box stores and a throw-it-away-instead-of-fix-it world shut him down a while ago.” Robbins opened the Bojangles sack. Chicken sandwich and dirty fries. He fished a few fries out of the packet. Sharon might not want him to die of lung cancer, but she hadn’t started in on a heart attack.
    Yet.
    “Some of these dirt bags will kill you for a dollar if they need a fix bad enough. But the dog would’ve barked at a druggie.” He bit into the fries. They had enough pepper to kick start his taste buds.
    “I heard burglars will throw a dog drug-laced meat so it doesn’t bark.”
    Robbins unwrapped his sandwich—a Cajun Filet. Was it as simple as a burglary turned ugly? “That implies planning. I don’t see it. Someone went through Beason’s house on a rampage.”
    Then again, he hadn’t seen anything that