What Lies Beneath

Chapter 16

Detective Olivia Pearson was an enigma to Mason. He couldn’t understand how someone who appeared to be so strong, so though could seem so fragile at the same time. So breakable. It was in her eyes, something had happened to her, or something had happened sometime - when she was younger, he decided. That dream she had, he bet it connected to her past. He glanced over at her. The streetlights illuminated her face every few seconds, and it amazed him how someone so young could look so tired.

Mason wanted to comment on the run-down building where he had dropped her off, but kept it to himself. No use in pointing out something she knew already. Besides, she was a cop with a g*n, she should be able to take care of herself.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning,” he said as she made a movement to get out of the car. No need for her to take the bus when he or Kat could just as easily give her a ride.

“It’s unnecessary. I can take the bus.” She was about to close the door, but he wasn’t having it.

“I want to head out early, seven am, catch those people on the list before they head to work.”

She looked uncertain, but she nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

And she was. She was ready, but not ready. Mason was almost certain Olivia had one massive hangover. Again, just like with where she lived, this wasn’t his business, nor his problem, so he said nothing. They quickly wrapped up the interviews with nothing new to add. The drive to the Newburgh Weekly was just as quiet as the drive to the recently deceased’s apartment building. Mason had called the Editor this morning, not really bothered that he woke him, to inform him they were coming in this morning. Sniffing for a story the man was happy to oblige, quickly escorting them to the archives and offered refreshments–which Olivia declined, Mason asked for coffee.

Olivia was a curious shade of green and something pinched in his stomach. “Are you still feeling ill?” he asked as they took their seats in front of the shiny computers.

“What?” She frowned at him–he didn’t like it when she frowned at him.

“You still seem a bit out of sorts.”

“I’m fine, Detective. I’ll get on that date, you check the names.” He wanted to scoff and say that he was leading this investigation, but that would be a puerile reaction. It doesn’t matter who does what in the investigation, so long as it gets solved.

Lincoln had no results except for his murder. He was still typing in Weser’s name when Olivia got up. “Here is your connection, Detective.” She motioned for him to sit in the chair she vacated. Plopping down, he read the headline.

‘NEWBURGH HIGH SCHOOL PUPIL (14) TAKES OWN LIFE’

The article stated that a high school kid named Harry Monroe had hanged himself an afternoon after school, because of the constant mental and physical a***e he had received from some pupils. There were no specifics given on the bullies. The date of the incident was the same date as Lincoln and Weser’s murders. Only Harry Monroe had killed himself five years ago. It made sense, Mason admitted to himself. The dates, how the victims were found–making it look like they had committed suicide. Someone might have a taste for some vigilante justice. “Looks like we’re paying a visit to the Monroe’s, Detective Pearson.”

When he looked up, he stared at her smiling face. Mason thought, at that moment, that she might just be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He shook his head as if to align his thoughts. Getting up, he quickly lead them back to the parking lot of the Newburgh Weekly before the Editor could find them and fish for the story. With a quick call to the station, Mason got the address, and they were on their way.

Mason loved his job–getting a solid lead, chasing it down, linking the information until it resembled a pointing finger. He loved it. A bubbling sort of excitement was coursing through his body–almost like a wicked caffeine buzz–as they headed to the Monroe’s.

“How do you want to handle this?” Her sudden break of silence had him looking over. She was looking better by each passing hour.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Do you want me to just take notes, ask questions, wait outside?” she asked nonchalantly. He frowned at her. It seems like waiting outside would have the same effect as her asking the all the important questions.

“Just be my partner for the day, Olivia.”

She nodded and glanced over at him. He might have been mistaken, but he was almost sure her cheeks had just a hint of color. Aside from her weird reaction upon their introduction, where she zoned out for a few seconds, most of the time he couldn’t be sure what was going on inside her head. He still liked to think that her odd reaction was because of him, because she found him attractive, but he wouldn’t say so. No, not even to Kat.

The Monroe residence was in a pitiful state, the grass needed cutting, the hedges needed trimming, and the windows could use a good wash. Mason knew that it only meant one thing, the man of the house wasn’t here or doesn’t care. He knocked and waited. It took a minute or two for the door to open. The woman who answered the door was thin and prematurely grey. Her face, even tired, did not warrant for the grey mop of curls.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Ma’am, this is Detective Olivia Pearson and I am Detective Mason Riley. Is this the Monroe residence?”

“Yes, can I help you?” she repeated the question.

“Do mind if we come inside for a moment? We have a couple of questions.”

“About what?”

“To begin with, your son’s death.”

She still hasn’t made a move to let them inside. “I don’t understand.”

Olivia spoke “We can explain all of this to you, but we’d rather not do it standing on the porch. Is your husband home?”

She stood in deliberation for a couple of seconds and moved aside to and motioned for them to come inside. “My husband has been home for five years,” she said as they headed inside.

“He’s not working?” Olivia asked as Mrs. Monroe led them the five or six steps into the living room. She answered as they sat down. “After what happened to Harry, Jack couldn’t deal it, the grief crippled him, they admitted him to a mental health facility. Never really got better.”

“I am sorry to hear that Mrs. Monroe,” Mason sympathized. Her teenage boy committed suicide, her husband checked out mentally. One death had taken two lives here, a third if you look closely. Mrs. Monroe was a beaten and broken woman.

“When did your husband come home from the facility, Mrs. Monroe?” Olivia wanted to know.

“He was there for three years when he showed signs that home care was possible they send him home–there is a nurse here when I am at work.”

“What is the name of the nurse?” Mason was still compiling a list of witnesses.

“Mary Donaldson. Why?” She looked from Mason to Olivia. She was growing more nervous by the second. Olivia ignored her question to ask her own.

“Can you describe your husband’s mental state in recent years, let’s say the last two years at home?” The question, though not rude, lacked empathy.

Mrs. Monroe was frowning now, shaking her head as she asked. “I still don’t understand why you are here, my son committed suicide five years ago why are you here now, asking me all these questions about my husband?”

“We’ll make all of that clear in time, Mrs. Monroe. Roland Lincoln and Gerhard Weser, those names mean anything to you?” Mason heard her low intake of breath. She might be good at schooling her features, but her eyes were a dead giveaway. Mason knew what nervous eyes looked like–he has interviewed many people and most of the time, their eyes told the story their mouths wouldn’t.

“No, never heard of their names before.”

“Never?” Olivia asked casually. “Not even on the news?” Mrs. Monroe shook her head. Her eyes had gone from tired to worried and they both noticed. “Can we speak with your husband?”

“I am afraid he is not up to answering questions. He isn’t well.” She got up and headed for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have work to do.”

Mason got up, but Olivia stayed seated. “We have more questions, Mrs. Monroe, could you spare us a little more time, please?”

“No, I am sorry. You have to go.” She opened the front door, making it clear that she wanted them to leave, Olivia relented and got up from the couch. Mason headed out first. He stopped just before he stepped outside. He didn’t want to give her this warning, but he had no choice. “Mrs. Monroe, we must ask the rest of our questions, it will be up to you if it would be with a trip to the station.”

Saying nothing, Olivia followed him out and to the car. “Seems like you hit a nerve there, Detective Riley.”

“Mason. And yes, seems like we did. She knows something and I plan on finding out what that…” His cell phone’s ringer interrupted the conversation, he fished it out and answered the call. “Hey, Kat.” Nodding, he said. “Sure, I’ll just drop Olivia off at the station, then I’ll come to get you.”

“Kat’s at the train station.”

“She took a train?” Olivia frowned.

“Yeah, she’s not big on driving.” Heading down the road, Mason glanced at Olivia. He wondered what she was thinking. Why she was frowning like that? He knew she probably wouldn’t say what was bothering her. “Since Kat’s back, you can get back to your own work. I want you to know that I really appreciate your help,” he said sincerely.

“Your welcome, Det… Mason.” The way his name sounded coming from her lips nearly made him smile. “It might help to know if Mrs. Monroe was with her husband at the time of the murders. Mary Donaldson could provide some insight with her schedule.”

“I was planning on getting some information on the nurse, see if I can arrange a meeting.”

“It’s a good thing you thought to ask for her name when you did.”

“It was,” Mason agreed.

Mason dropped Olivia off at the police station and headed for the train station to pick Kat up. Gone for only a day, and she still hasn’t told him what was going on back in Kingston with her parents. Kat was waiting on the curb with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Mason pulled up and waited for her to put the bag in the boot. He noticed she was calm, happy even. Whenever she came back from her parents, she was usually in a crap mood. “You look chipper,” Mason commented as she climbed inside.

“I am!” she proclaimed, smiling from ear to ear. “My parents are getting a divorce!” Mason chuckled; only Kat could make that sound like a good thing. It might even be a good thing - her parents loved her dearly, but hated each other. Kat had mentioned that they once were happy, but they realized that the thing that kept them happy was Kat. When she left the house to brave the world, they realized they had little in common anymore.

“Congratulations,” Mason said, still chuckling. “When’s the big day?”

“Dunno.” She shrugged. “They’ll let me know. I might throw them a divorce party.” She beamed.

“That’s a bit over the top, Kat, even for you.”

She just shrugged again as they headed for her apartment. “I’ll think about it. Are you heading back to the station after you drop me off?”

“Yeah, I’ll fill you in tomorrow, but we might have a very solid lead with Olivia’s help.”

“How was it working with her?” Mason could hear the smirk in her voice.

“I know what you were trying to do, Kat.” He gave her an irritated sidelong glance.

“I did nothing.” She feigned innocence and Mason grunted at that. “Fine!” she gave in. “You two should get to know each other.”

“She’s not my type, Kat.”

“What? Hot’s not your type?” She scoffed.

“Hot and broken, is not my type” He dearly wanted it to be. After spending some time with Olivia, there was something there. He knew this because his stomach would take a dip whenever she looked at him. “Besides, we’re colleagues”.

Kat sighed, rolling her eyes. “I never said you should get married, Mason. But there was a spark there, it might be something or it might be nothing. Why don’t you have some fun while you figure it out?”

Mason was wondering the same damn thing.