One Deadly Sister Part 11

"Did you meet Tammy?"

"Yes. Kagan gave me Tammy and Loraine's addresses. I talked at length with Tammy in her office. She doesn't care much for you but otherwise seems okay. If that girl is a pushover, as Loraine told you, then I'm Queen Elizabeth."

Meg spoke up, "There are rumors of an affair with Towson, but I've never heard any talk about Tammy Jerold being easy. In fact on the contrary, she's a bit reserved."

"Loraine, on the other hand, tried to shove me off her front porch when I told her who I was," Sandy continued. "I was lucky she didn't eat me alive. Something's wrong there, Raymond. I can't believe you got cozy with that nut case." She quickly put her hand to her mouth and glanced at Meg. "Whoops, sorry, she a friend of yours?"

"I know her from business, that's all. She can be a pain. Says all brokers are trying to rip her off. Sorry I invited her. Is there any way I can help with all this?"

"That would be great, if you want to," Sandy said. "So, you deal in securities and financial matters. I guess you have access to credit and financial reports on people?"

"All the time."

"Then I'm going to get real pushy. Can you pull reports on Loraine, Tammy, Norma Martin, Sonny Barner, Towson, and the Postmaster General? I'm joking about that last one, but you get the idea-everyone connected with the case. Is that too much?"

"Oh, Sandy, I'd like to help, but I don't dare to give you actual reports on anyone. My securities license mandates strict privacy. What are you after?"

"Financial problems, lawsuits, convictions, and such. I understand your delicate situation. I suppose social security numbers are out. What about birth dates? With a birth date I can go online."

"Can't do, but how's this: I'll quietly review a few things myself and let you know if anything suspicious pops up. I already have files on everyone you named except Norma and Barner. I'll get back to you. Give me your cell. Must go now. You two have serious things to cover." Meg said her goodbyes.

Sandy watched her leave. "Impressive woman. Okay, Raymond, where were we? Ah, yes, back to the seductive woman who drives her lovers to disaster. Loraine's a femme fatale, and you're a convenient doofus."

"That's not fair, Sandy, I didn't want to discuss it while Meg was here, but the woman you're describing isn't the one I slept with after that party."

"Bulls.h.i.t, men will screw anything that moves and an astonishing variety of things that don't."

"Well, she wasn't just anything. She was something, and a d.a.m.n attractive something. Excuse me for being human."

"And you were helplessly ensnared in her bonds of irresistible desire. Next, you'll tell me she was also a virgin. Get off it. She lifted her skirt, and you charged off to tilt at windmills. Your bizarre s.e.x drive got you in jail and got me down here ruining my life to help you."

"If I was like that, we would have had s.e.x again at that motel. There was no second time in spite of her naked body laid out before me like some s.e.xual smorgasbord. Don't you understand? The melodramatic story that got me charged up came from the sweet Loraine."

"Have you ever in your life said no to a woman asking for anything?"

"Okay, I'll admit she conned me, but not back into bed, although she sure tried. I didn't know any of the people she named. It all sounded plausible at the time. But yes, I couldn't wait to race off and make an a.s.s out of myself."

"Somehow, Raymond, you never quite know what's going on with women. Women aren't just tall Girl Scouts. You think you owe every woman something, don't you. With your quiet childlike charm if you ever did figure them out you'd be gold. Women like quiet men like you, they think you're listening."

"I don't care if I understand them. I just want to meet a woman who smiles at me because she means it."

"Well, don't get married again before I size up the prospect."

"Do I detect a slight hint of caring, like you actually give a d.a.m.n?"

"You're right. I don't. That was a joke."

"Not difficult to screw up choosing a partner. How are you doing, for example?" He was upset and said it without thinking. He immediately wished he could take the words back. Her face flushed and he knew he had hit the target. "I'm sorry, Sandy, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you're right. I'm guilty of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up relationships. The difference is I work at them, at least the worthy ones. Most went bad but I was in there trying. But you, my apathetic sibling, just take up s.p.a.ce waiting for someone to come to you. Someone who had better be prepared to call all the relationship shots because your mind has more important concerns."

"Wow. This isn't really about me, is it? It's about us. You're talking about you and me-and my failure to redeem myself with you."

"I'll leave sibling redemption to the psychologists."

"I'm truly sorry, Sandy. I'll try to change. I'll try to work on our connection."

"I don't care what you do. My concern is getting back to my life in Philly. That means I first must clean up your mess. Where did we leave off?"

"I'm a doofus."

"Oh yes, Loraine using you. I guess the Barner rape was the angle she thought would set you off. She wanted you to go to Towson's, to see Norma, and to barge in on Tammy. She wanted you seen all over town."

"She outsmarted me. If I'd called the police at three o'clock, as I originally intended, I'd have been talking to them at the time of murder and would never have been a suspect. I'd be home reading a book right now, just taking up s.p.a.ce, and you'd be in Philly. I don't think Tammy understands all that. Do you think she'd be willing to come here and talk with me?"

"No, I don't. Tammy thinks you're straight out lying. She doesn't think Loraine has anything to do with this. She thinks you fought with Towson and shot him. That's what she told G.o.ddard. She doesn't think much of you. She said it's tragic an accomplished man with such a promising future should have his life cut short because some jerk drifts into town and wipes out years of accomplishments with two little bullets."

"When we met, I felt there was something between us. I'd like to see her again."

"That's understandable, she has that big b.o.o.b thing going for her."

"Sandy, please get off the overs.e.xed notion. I'm not like that. You don't know me any better than I know you."

"You think Tammy would come here to jail to see you? Forget about it. She's very upset. You know I don't have all the time in the world for this project of yours. I've a long list and seeing Tammy twice isn't on it. Do yourself a favor and forget about her. She doesn't like us, and you two simply aren't on the same side."

She looked at him sitting there-pathetic in that stupid jumpsuit, with two precious paperbacks and a bag of chocolate covered pretzels tightly gripped in his handcuffed hands. He seemed so fragile. So far, he was dealing with this horrible situation, but she wouldn't be surprised if he soon flipped over into depression. She should let up on him. Stop blaming him for trying to help someone.

"Okay, I'll go see her, just to give her your message. Maybe I'll find an excuse to cross paths with Detective Chip G.o.ddard again."

Chapter 15.

Being state attorney put a sizeable hammer in Lawrence Moran's hand. His office had no lack of possible targets to hit. G.o.ddard had observed that the merciless Moran used the law to come down hard against minor offenders and unwary letter-of-the-law violators. He noticed Moran seemed to enjoy smashing little bugs with his big hammer. He relished those opportunities where he could penalize the likely innocent on a technicality. Such power made the fight unfair.

Although G.o.ddard had to live with it, he usually didn't have to deal closely with him. Usually A shoots B, G.o.ddard arrests A, a trial is scheduled, and G.o.ddard goes home. The Towson case would be different. It would be complicated and he didn't like having Moran so involved in the investigative part of it.

Moran wanted a meeting, so G.o.ddard drove back to the station and headed for the chief's office. As he opened the door, he could hear Moran's high-pitched voice criticizing the chief for the lack of progress. Moran accented his complaint with his fist in the air. "Get in here G.o.ddard, my desk is piled high with pink call-back slips from state and national media. I need something to tell them. I could be forced into a news conference at any time."

"You'd love those TV lights and cameras," G.o.ddard said.

"The chief just told me that nothing resulted from the search of Barner's house. Let's go back to Reid. Please a.s.sure me we still have him nailed. You know, Tallaha.s.see keeps asking me if I need any backup for the case, and I tell them I have it under control. Do I have it under control, G.o.ddard?"

"It's circ.u.mstantial but pretty good. I just talked with Loraine Dellin. She admits to having s.e.x with Reid. He told her she wouldn't really love him as long as Towson was alive. There's your love triangle, your threat and your motive. The affair goes on for at least a week. On the morning of the murder, they meet again at a motel. He admits there was a gun there. There's your means. We know they argued. Later that day Towson is found murdered."

"And where was Loraine during all this?"

"She admits to being at the motel Sat.u.r.day morning. The murder had to be between 2:15, the time noted on Barner's service receipt and six. She was seen at the museum at three and at five. The museum's shift change is at four; she arrived on one guard's shift and left on another. So she could have left in between. She could have left the museum after three, shot Towson, and came back before five."

"Is there any way you can make it cornier?" Moran said. "Your triangle theory is all wrong because it's unexciting. I can't stand before the national media and tell such a boring little tale of romance gone wrong. It won't get air time."

The chief said, "But we've got the killer, we just need to nail down some more evidence."

"We have enough right now to confuse the idiot jurors I get in this town. Even so, I'm not happy because I want to land the big fish behind this plot. Don't you get it? The victim was a state senator going to be the next Governor of Florida. Someday possibly president. It's a political a.s.sa.s.sination. Think big-murder, money, conspiracies, and influence. There's much more to this affair. And it's here in Park Beach, right here in my district! And what do you do? You hand me a tidy little love triangle? You're missing the big picture."

G.o.ddard knew the state attorney dreamed about this case developing into some notorious national intrigue that would propel him into the U.S. Senate.

"This isn't an impulsive killing or a crime of pa.s.sion," Moran continued. "Towson was an important person. When they b.u.mp off big people, there's always money and power in the mix. Anyone can get himself killed over a boneheaded love triangle and some mixed up s.e.x. Forget cherchez la femme. With the big cats, look for the money and power. Find the big connection. There's something there! Has to be. What do we know about the third woman in the statement, Norma Martin? I hear she's Latina. I suspected there was a foreign angle to this."

The chief answered, "In this case, the total of your foreign angle might only be a quiet Cuban-American restaurant nine miles away. Have you eaten out at the Jardin? Rice, beans, all that good stuff. Norma Martin fronts for the owners and runs it. National crime has nothing on her."

"Not good enough," Moran snapped. "We know Cuban-American money interests were opposing the election of Towson. Where there's smoke there's fire. What does she actually have to say, G.o.ddard? Let me see her statement."

G.o.ddard realized he had his priorities wrong. Moran had him. He should have talked to her much sooner. "She's on my list. I haven't met with her yet."

"You haven't met with her yet! d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l, you've been fiddling around with old-lady neighbors and the local exterminator. Meanwhile, the hit man from Philadelphia drops the name of Norma Martin, who fronts for unnamed Cuban interests. How many time would she have to bite you on the a.s.s, before you'd turn around and investigate?"

"She's next on my list to interview."

"Slick work, G.o.ddard. Only five days after the murder and already you're thinking about talking with the princ.i.p.als in the case."

G.o.ddard knew he had screwed up by not developing secondary suspects. Norma Martin might even have skipped town by now or destroyed evidence. "I was headed out there when you called me back in." That stretched the truth.

"Reid isn't some jealous lover. He was paid to do this," Moran said. "Get out of here and find the big boys who hired him."

G.o.ddard left and headed for the Jardin Cafe beyond the edge of town. He had taken far too long to contact Norma Martin and wasn't happy with himself about that. He didn't know her connection to all this. He did know she fronted for some corporation. And now, she's had plenty of time to run.

Fortunately, he found her still around. The restaurant wasn't open so he waited at the back door while a worker went to find Mrs. Martin. She appeared dressed in the customary hostess-style dark dress with a white collar, all covered just now with an oversized ap.r.o.n. In her late fifties, he guessed. Slim, attractive, with a slightly exotic look. She greeted him and motioned toward a booth at the rear of the main dining area. She lit a cigarette as soon as they sat. "Sign says no smoking," he said to get the conversation started.

"Rank has its privileges."

"So you own this place?" He knew she didn't.

"Lock stock and fish barrel, been at this since I was a little girl."

"Do you know why I'm here?"

"Most likely Senator Towson, it's all over TV. What happened to our quiet little town?"

"How do you know him?"

"He made reservations and brought guests here. Not often, but enough for me to know who he was."

"Where do you live? I couldn't find you in the directory?"

"Been living in my cook's place, nice condo, and she's never there."

"Give me her name. I need some kind of address for you."

"Elena Duarte, on Banyon Street," she said with some hesitation. "But this is really my address. I've an office here, get all my calls, and mail here. On nights when I'm exhausted, which are most nights, I even sleep here."

"Where were you last Sat.u.r.day, the day Towson was killed?"

"Sat.u.r.day? I would have been grocery shopping, and every day back here by four."

"Ever been in Towson's apartment?"

"No!" She nervously crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. "Be right back." She slid out of the booth.

After she disappeared into the kitchen, he picked up her cigarette b.u.t.t with a napkin and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

Minutes later she returned. She stood with her arms folded across her chest and announced, "I'm too busy to talk with you. I know nothing about any murder. Please don't bother me again."

"Better here, Mrs. Martin, than down at police headquarters." That line was always worth a try.

"As a matter of fact, it isn't better here, but I can't talk to you anyplace. Please leave."

Back in his vehicle, he flipped open his notebook. He had met a tense Norma Martin and possibly had DNA from her cigarette. She mentioned her cook, Elena Duarte. He brought up the address search on his patrol-car computer, nothing for Elena Duarte. Next, he tried Norma Martin. She was in there and on Banyon Street. Why had she tried to deceive him about living with her cook?

He knew if some Tampa Cuban-Americans were connected to the murder that Norma Martin would now alert them. And they just might be the link to the bigger plot that Moran suspected and hoped for.

Towson had enemies in the Cuban community. He had publicly opposed amnesty for refugees after the 1980 Mariel boatlift. Also, he opposed legalizing casinos in Florida, and South Florida is sympathetic to the old-time families involved in Havana's casinos before Castro kicked them out.

G.o.ddard felt uncomfortable in this unfamiliar situation. He knew that a small town cop couldn't run around the state checking out money trails and motives. And Moran didn't want to bring in state investigators. Didn't want them b.u.t.ting in, taking over, and taking credit.

So, far, Norma Martin was the only link to a possible Tampa connection. An important link if DNA from her cigarette puts her in Towson's apartment.

Ray Reid was still the best suspect so far, although he seemed an unlikely professional hit man. G.o.ddard needed more background on him. What did he really do in Philadelphia? It wouldn't hurt to see if his sister could fill in some blanks. Interesting woman. Who was he kidding? He'd just flat out like to take another look at her.

He phoned attorney Jerry Kagan and after brief pleasantries asked for the cell number of Reid's sister. Kagan was surprised with the request and said he must check with her first to see if she wanted it given out. G.o.ddard told him, "Then just have her meet me at the Coffee Spot on the barrier island-thirty minutes, no later." Kagan wouldn't promise she'd show up.

Kagan relayed the request to Sandy. Her response was, "Wants to see me?" She was in jeans, no time to change. She looked in the rearview mirror-could be better but she didn't need much daytime makeup anyway.

What was this all about? Was he going to serve a summons or a cease-and-desist order? He wasn't the type to try to hit on her-or was he? For good or for bad she had gotten to Detective Chip G.o.ddard.

Chapter 16.

Sandy Reid crossed the Intracoastal Waterway to the barrier island and drove on east to Highway A1A. G.o.ddard had said meet at the Coffee Spot, and she knew about where to find it.