Page 40 of Little Last Words

CHAPTER16

Ahandcuffed, forlorn-looking Dean was taken into police custody. He went without resistance. He even took the time to glance back and thank me on the way out. I wasn’t sure I deserved to be thanked, but no one had been injured or killed, and I supposed that was something.

Foley hung back so I could brief him on what happened. Most of the funeral attendees had gone, but a handful of people remained. They stood together in a group huddle, trying to decide whether they should pick up where they’d left off before Dean blew in and hijacked Penelope’s funeral service.

Foley was in a foul mood, but he agreed I’d handled things in the best way I could under the circumstances. The fact the gun wasn’t loaded carried more weight than anything. Nonetheless, Dean would be charged for what he’d done.

Dean spent the night in a jail cell. The following day, he met with his attorney, and bail was set. Having no prior convictions, he was granted permission to be released until his court date. His release came with conditions, one of which was not to leave the state without the court’s permission. He was also forbidden to engage in any contact with his daughter, Penelope’s family, or her friends. Violating either condition would land him right back in jail.

As he was being released, Dean told Foley he was going to stick around Cambria for a few days, hoping his lawyer would be able to find a loophole that allowed him to see Sadie. It was an unrealistic fantasy in my opinion, but I was glad to hear he’d decided to remain in the area for now.

I’d been hoping for another chance to talk with him, and it looked like I might get it. Although I didn’t know where he was staying, I knew the make and model of his car. It didn’t take me long to find it parked in front of the Seascape Hotel. Given it was an older, single-floor establishment, I only had to knock on a few doors before I found him.

After what we’d been through the day before, I wasn’t sure how I’d be received, but Dean was quick to invite me inside and even quicker to offer an apology for his drunken behavior and ensuing antics the day before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that much to drink in my entire life,” he said. “I can’t even remember most of what happened. It’s all kind of a blur.”

I took a seat at a small, two-seater table. “Do you get like that sometimes?”

“Like what? Drunk?”

“Violent.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a violent person. Everyone has their good days and bad, right?”

Perhaps they did, but everyone didn’t handle the bad ones by brandishing a weapon—in a chapel of all places.

“When you decided to take the gun with you to Penelope’s funeral, did you know beforehand what you were going to do with it?” I asked.

“If you’re asking if I had a plan, I didn’t. I took it for protection.”

“But it wasn’t loaded.”

“It wasn’t, but I had a few bullets in my pocket.”

Foley had omitted that bit of information when we spoke.

“You took the gun for protection from whom?” I asked.

He shrugged. “From whoever is responsible for murdering my wife.”

“What makes you think the person who killed Penelope attended the funeral?”

“Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t. Isn’t that whatyouare supposed to be figuring out?”

“Yes, and I will.”

“Well, get on with it. Why are you wasting your time here, talking to me?”

“Talking to you isn’t a waste of time,” I said. “The more I learn about Penelope, the more I’ll understand what direction to go in next.”

He lay on the bed, lacing his hands behind his head on the pillow. “All right. Fine. What do you want to know?”

“What was your relationship like?”

“Depended on the day.”

“Give me an example.”