The Heirloom Murders - Kathleen Ernst [52]
He reminded himself that he needed to curry Marie’s favor. Complaining about her music wouldn’t help. “Hey Marie,” he said.
“Hello.” Her voice was clipped. She didn’t look up.
OK, she was still pissed. He pulled up a chair and sat at her elbow. “Marie, I need your help,” he said, hoping he sounded humble.
She stopped typing, turned her chair to face him, crossed her arms, and waited.
“I visited Sonia Padopolous yesterday. She lives—”
“I know where she lives.”
Of course she did. Marie had lived in Eagle all her life. Unlike him. “She seemed nervous. Not about the break-in next door, I mean. Nervous to be talking to a cop.”
“Probably because of Alex,” Marie said promptly.
Roelke sent up a quick, silent prayer that Marie would never retire. “And Alex is … ?”
“Her son.”
He felt his eyebrows rise. “Her son? I asked about children, and she most definitely did not mention a son.”
“Alexander Padopolous.” Marie nodded slowly. “I haven’t seen him in years. He must be … oh, thirty by now. He raised hell when he was still living at home. Put poor Sonia through the wringer.”
“What kind of hell?”
The straight line of Marie’s shoulders eased a bit. “Teen stuff, mostly. Speeding, DUI. But some petty larceny, too. Shoplifting.”
Well, hunh. Roelke thought that over.
“Last time I saw Alex was likely three or four years ago,” Marie said. “Sonia and I were teaching Sunday School, and I dropped by with some curriculum materials. Alex was lying on the sofa with a beer can in one hand, watching TV. He looked like he hadn’t showered in a week.” Her nose wrinkled. “I could tell Sonia was mortified.”
“Her place today was neat as the legendary pin,” Roelke said, trying to project empathy.
“I told Sonia later that she needed to put her foot down with Alex. There was nothing wrong with that boy but pure laziness. He had a chip on his shoulder big enough to fell an ox.” Marie tightened her lips for a moment. “Maybe it came from growing up without his dad around. That’s hard on any kid. But enough was enough.”
“What did she say?”
“Not much at the time. But within a month, Alex was gone. He moved up to Waukesha.”
The phone rang. “Marie, thank you,” Roelke said quickly. “I really appreciate your help.”
She gave him an all-is-forgiven smile.
Roelke thought about what he’d learned. Sonia Padopolous, widowed young, left to raise a lazy, troublemaker son. Could Alex Padopolous have been the prowler at Dellyn Burke’s place? The prowler who had chosen to attack Chloe, rather than slip away into darkness? Might Alex Padopolous have been looking for the Eagle Diamond?
It was a stupid idea. Absurd, even. And yet … not completely impossible, either. An article had recently been published about the missing diamond. Alex had grown up next to the Burkes. He would know they collected local history stuff. He would likely even know his way around the barn.
Roelke always kept personal notes on index cards. He liked the form, the ability to shuffle, the ease of pulling them in and out of pockets. He grabbed one and began to write.
Alex Padopolous
—still in trouble?
—possibly saw article in Wisconsin Byways?
—need to
The chief’s door opened. Roelke hunched his shoulders like a child afraid of being caught writing a note in class.
“Nice work, son,” Chief Naborski was saying, as he and Skeet emerged from the office. Naborski clapped Skeet on the shoulder.
Chief Naborski didn’t dish up praise with a generous spoon. And shoulder claps—those were even more rare. Roelke’s last bit of tangible praise from the chief had been accompanied by a disciplinary letter, after a complicated mess with Chloe and a missing antique back in June.
The chief nodded a greeting before disappearing back into his office. Roelke stared at the closed door. The muscles between his shoulders bunched. He wanted that full-time job. Wanted it bad. But Skeet was evidently doing what he needed to do to win it.
“Roelke,” Marie called. She was holding the phone. “There