Page 77 of Bishop's Flight
“Probably not.” Bernard exited the car, and Carwyn followed him. “She’ll probably think we’re mob. She’ll still talk.”
They strode up the front walk, and Bernard knocked on the door.
In the back of his mind, Carwyn felt Brigid’s amusement, and it made the knot in his chest loosen just a little bit. She was fine. She was with the lad, and she was looking for solutions.
If Zasha or the Ankers started to torment either of them, he would know.
“Mrs. Pickman?” Bernard looked at the modern doorbell camera affixed to the wall. “I’m here to speak to you about Mr. Preston. You spoke to my colleague Miguel a few days ago?”
“Just a minute.” The voice came through the small speaker by the doorbell.
A few moments later, the door cracked open. “Detective Estrada didn’t say anyone else was coming.”
There was a chain on the door. Nothing that Carwyn couldn’t push through with a slight shove, but he didn’t want to scare the woman.
“Detective Estrada was involved in a shooting last night,” Bernard said. “I’m not sure if you saw it on the news. I’m his supervisor, Bernard Aguirre.”
“Oh my God! That’s horrible!” The door shut, the chain rattled, and it swung open.
The woman at the door was middle-aged with straight blond hair, a forgettably attractive face, and an athletic figure. She was tan and wore biking shorts and a T-shirt. “First this horrible business with Gary and now Detective Estrada? I can’t believe it. What is this city coming to?” She turned. “Brian! The police are here about Gary.”
She waved them into the front room. “Let me get my water. I just got off my bike.”
A trim man in a polo shirt wandered into the room and waved. “This about Gary’s murder?”
“Yes, sir.” Carwyn piped up. “We’re investigating since Miguel is in the hospital.”
“Was that shooting related to Gary’s death?”
“Absolutely not,” Carwyn said. “Unrelated and unfortunate. Miguel was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He walked over to the man and shook his hand, suffusing the human with an easy calm. “We’ll try not to take up too much of Mrs. Pickman’s time.”
“Of course.” The human smiled. “No problem.”
Mrs. Pickman walked back in the room and waved her hand. “Call me Gayle. Have a seat, guys. I brought some water, unless you want coffee this time of night?”
“Not for me.” Bernard sat on the couch. “Gayle, we had some questions about Gary Preston’s books.”
She blew out a breath. “You and me both. I worked for Gary for years, but in the last year, I gotta tell you, I was getting really uncomfortable. I’m a bookkeeper. I do human resources. General office management, you know? But after he split from Shelly—ex-Mrs. Preston. She and the kids moved to Reno to be near her folks.” Gayle shook her head. “He was a changed man. I don’t judge people’s marriages, mind you. I knew they were having problems and I knew why.”
“Why?”
“He stepped out on her. Multiple times.” Gayle rolled her eyes. “And he gambled, but who doesn’t in this town? It was the affairs that did them in. He wanted to live the high-roller life, and that wasn’t Shelly, you know? She liked tennis and the PTA and being a basketball mom. She wasn’t into the flashy stuff he liked.”
“The ranch house…?”
“New,” Gayle said. “Post-divorce Gary. They were building it, but then they split up…” She shook her head. “That poor family. His kids are going to be devastated.”
“Did they have a boat, Gayle?”
“A boat?” She blinked. “Okay, so that’s a good question and I’m not entirely sure.”
Bernard leaned forward. “What does that mean?”
“It means he had one, but I don’t know how. I never saw sales records for it. I never saw a contract or a loan document. It showed up, and he said he’d won it in a bet. Well…” She huffed. “You can imagine I had questions. I asked about the registration. I asked about transfer documents. He brushed me off, said that was all getting taken care of. Seemed delighted with himself, to be honest. He had it in the garage at the house. It’s not still there?”
“No, ma’am.” Bernard looked grim.
“Well, he bragged about it to everyone.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine if that dumb houseboat got him killed, Brian?” She turned to her husband. “That ridiculous houseboat. They probably stole it.”
