Sarah Armstrong: Blood Lines Part 7

"My guess is that you already know I did," he said. "Whats the point?"

"The point is that you now have a homicide to work," I said. When he didnt respond, I offered, "If youre too booked up, Detective, Im willing to investigate Billie c.o.xs murder, but it is your case. If youd prefer, Ill step back and let you and your partner run with it."

I didnt think less of Walker for making a mistake by writing off the murder as a suicide. Anyone can be fooled. Theres an old ranger story about Colonel Jack Hays during the Texas war for independence. Believing he was one step ahead of the Mexicans, Hays left San Antonio with his men to scout for approaching enemy troops only to discover when he returned five days later that a Mexican military force had used his absence as an opportunity to move in and take over the river city.

So it wasnt Walker misjudging the situation that bothered me; it was that he didnt fight for his investigation, that he didnt insist on working his own case. Instead the detective fell silent, perhaps considering if he could get away with turning it over. If Buckshot was right about Walkers att.i.tude, it had to be tempting. There was no way the c.o.x case was going to be easy, with the killers trail already a week old. Walker must have settled on a way to explain my commandeering the investigation to his lieutenant, because the next thing he said was, "Ill fax you a copy of the case file. I know youve seen it, but you might want it, now that youll be the lead."

"Sure," I said. "Fax away."

I hung up, and then, rather than wait on the paperwork to arrive, I put in a call to Faith Roberts and brought her up to speed on the coroners new findings. When I told her Billies death was now officially a homicide, I heard her sobbing. Sometimes, even when folks believe a loved ones been murdered, hearing its real comes as a shock.

"Faith, I need more information on Billie," I said. "Do you have other family, anyone else I should talk to?"

"Just myself and my husband, Grant. Were Billies only family," she said. "Like I told you, our parents died young, our father first and then our mother when we were still kids."

"Then Id like to talk to you and your husband," I said. "I need to know everything either of you can tell me about your sister."

"Of course, anything we can do to help," she said. "Grants a Realtor, and he offices near the house. Ill call him, and h.e.l.l come right home. Well be waiting when you get here."

"Im on my way," I said.

"Lieutenant Armstrong?" she said.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

I put down the phone and grabbed my rig out of the drawer, strapped on my Colt .45, and pulled on my blazer. I was heading toward the door when David Garrity walked in.

"You look like youre prepared to do some business," he said. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Kind of. Looks like Ive picked up a murder case. Im on my way to interview the victims family," I said. "Do you need something?"

"If its okay, Ill tag along," he said. "Slow day at the office, and Id like to talk about our plans for Sat.u.r.day night."

"Sat.u.r.day night?" I repeated, clueless.

For a moment, he just looked at me with a bemused smile. "Unless we have other plans, Im talking about the Collins concert," he said, obviously finding my stumble entertaining. I felt myself blush, but decided to ignore it and head for the door. Quickly, David returned to business. "Id like to go over the arrangements, to make sure weve covered all the bases."

"Thats whats set up so far," I concluded on our drive to the Robertses home. "Were doing a full-court press on security, but if youve got other ideas, Im all for expanding."

"No, thats great," he said. "Youve got everything in motion."

"How about those subpoenas?" I asked. "Any results yet?"

"Its looking tough," David admitted. "Looks like the e-mails went through a web of resenders, those forwarding services that hide the ident.i.ty of the source. To get access to the records, we have to write more subpoenas at every level. In the meantime, the lab guys are tracing back the text messages that came in on Collinss cell phones, but that looks like another dead end."

"Bouncing off towers all over the country, I bet," I ventured.

"Dont you know it," he said. "This guy, whoever he is, knows how to scramble the towers of origin. The lab guys say hes clued into the latest technology, new equipment that funnels through phone networks to scattered towers. Theyre impressed."

"Im happy your lab guys are enjoying this, but its making a mess of work for us," I said. "And all these roadblocks sure arent moving the investigation along."

That conversation ended and, like the day before, there was an uncomfortable silence between us. To fill it, I recited the basics on the c.o.x case, since David would be at the interview. He asked only a few questions, probably because I left out all of Faiths a.s.sertions about the haunted television and computer.

"Hows Maggies horse?" he said, changing the subject.

"Emma Lou seems a little better, but were not sure about the foal yet. Todays day three hundred, so if she doesnt give birth before tomorrow, Doc says theres at least a prayer that the foal has a chance."

"Thats good news," he said. "Maggie looked upset when I was there yesterday. Poor kids been through a lot."

"Well, weve had a rough spell. First losing Bill, and then that mess last year," I said.

Then, again, silence.

I thought about David and me, what wed been like and his unexplained retreat. I wondered if he was waiting for me to make a move, if hed gotten tired of knocking on a door I never opened. I glanced over at him. Heck, Id never been in favor of wishing and hoping. Seeing him again, well, it made me remember how much I enjoyed the brief time wed spent together.

"You know, when you stopped calling, I was surprised," I said. "Id thought that maybe wed-"

"I did, too, Sarah. I really did," he interrupted. I glanced over, and he was staring at me. He looked sad, distant, yet I had the sense he wanted to reach out, to touch me. And there was something, something on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said. But what? I considered pulling the car over, but we were right around the corner from Faith and Grant Robertss house, and they were waiting.

"If theres something you need to tell me, you should just say it, David," I said.

"Theres nothing I can tell you, Sarah. I wish there were," he said, quietly. "Sometimes, what we want isnt as easy as it should be. Sometimes there are other people involved."

"What does that mean?" I asked, but he said nothing, only shook his head, still staring at me. "David, Im a grown woman. Theres no need to mince words. If you found someone else or changed your mind about how you feel about me, thats something I can understand. I know I wasnt particularly available."

"Its not as clear cut as that," he said, as I pulled into the driveway of a square, box of a house, two stories and redbrick, in a quiet middle-cla.s.s neighborhood, the kind with tree-lined streets and sidewalks, where neighbors pick up each others newspapers and mail when they go on vacations.

I turned off the engine, but didnt get out of the car. I wanted an answer. When he went to open the door, I flipped the locks.

He looked startled at first, but then smiled. "What is this? Am I being kidnapped? You know thats a federal crime."

"Time to fess up," I said. "I need to understand where we are, what changed."

He turned toward me in the seat and skimmed his hand gently over my shoulder, then slowly up to my cheek. It felt so good, just to feel his touch again. I turned toward him, and then cupped my left hand over his. "Tell me, David," I said. "Tell me where we are and how we got here."

I wanted and didnt want to know, but David smiled, the crooked, warm, aggravatingly charming smile Id thought about so many times since Id last kissed him. But again, he shook his head and didnt answer. I could see it in his eyes, something, a parcel of truth he wanted to tell me. I thought about brushing back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. I thought about what his skin felt like when wed made love, warm and firm.

"Nows not the time," he said, resolutely turning away and unlocking the car door. As he swung it open, he said, "Lets go talk to the victims family."

"The truth is, we really dont know of anyone whod want to hurt much less kill my sister," Faith said. "Ive been thinking, maybe it does have something to do with that man she was seeing? Maybe she broke it off with him, and he couldnt bear it? Maybe he was angry? You read about things like that in the newspaper all the time, some spurned boyfriend who kills a woman just because she doesnt want him anymore."

"But you cant put a name on this mystery man?" I asked. "Any information about him at all would help, Faith. Anything Billie mentioned would be a start."

Faith shook her head no. Beside her, Grant Roberts, not a bad-looking guy, a little thin for my taste, but tall and just a bit stooped, with short saddle-brown hair and tepid blue eyes, talked for the first time in our interview. "I heard that he was someone she worked with or in a company she had dealings with. A business relationship," he said. "Billie mentioned it one afternoon, when she was here having Sunday dinner."

His wife looked at him, surprised. "Billie told you about him? She never said anything to me."

"She waited until you were out of the room. Billie knew you wouldnt approve, Faith," he answered. "The man was married. She was your little sister. You know that she always wanted you to think well of her."

Faith dropped her head, and wiped her eyes with an already soggy tissue she clenched in her right hand. "I guess thats true," she said. "Billie was always concerned about the way I saw her. After our mother died, I was as much mother as sister."

Something about what Grant Roberts had just said rang wrong for me. Not the part about Billie being reluctant to tell Faith about her lover, but that Billie would confess something so personal to her brother-in-law. So I asked a question I would have anyway, only sooner, "Please dont be alarmed. We ask this of everyone in an investigation. Just for our records, where were both of you on that Friday, say from four to six, the afternoon Billie died?"

Faith shrugged, unconcerned. "We discussed this," she said. "I was home, picking up a few things around the house. Then I watched that show. You know, when the television just suddenly-"

"Was anyone else home?" I interrupted. The haunted TV episode was something I really didnt want to share with David. I wasnt too sure how hed interpret a victim communicating from beyond the grave.

"No," she said. "I was alone."

"And you, Mr. Roberts? Where were you?"

Grant Roberts didnt immediately answer. Instead, he looked at David and me, as if wondering what to say. Hed now piqued my curiosity twice. Finally, he said, "I was at the real estate office around six-thirty that afternoon," he said. "Before that, I was driving around Houston previewing houses for a client, but by six-thirty, I was in the office. I left there at about quarter to seven, and came directly home for dinner."

"Grants office is only a mile down the road," Faith said. "I remember him coming in before seven. I noticed the time because I was still watching television. It was an hour program, just ending, and I didnt have dinner ready, as I usually do by then."

"Write down your office address and phone number for me, Mr. Roberts," I asked, handing him my pad of paper and a pen. "Just so we can contact you when we have news on the case."

Grant Roberts did as requested, but I noticed his hands trembled, ever so slightly.

Fourteen.

Do you mind stopping at Grant Robertss office with me?" I asked David in the Tahoe.

"You sensed he was lying, too," he said. "Something is off there. You can hear it in his voice."

"It shouldnt take long," I said. "Promise this isnt like yesterday. Ill get you back to your car before dark."

"Unless you decide to kidnap me again," David responded. When I looked over he had a roguish grin.

"I only attempt one federal crime a day. Here on out, Ill wait until youre ready to talk," I said, figuring I might as well. It was obvious he wasnt in any hurry to come clean. "But I do think you owe me an explanation, and now you cant say I didnt try to get to the bottom of this."

"This?"

"Us," I clarified.

His smile had disappeared, and David said nothing, but looked again as if he wanted to. I considered reneging and ordering him to spit it out, but restrained myself and drove to Grants real estate office. I had work to do. I pulled into the parking lot, turned off the Tahoe, and got out without asking David any of the questions that wouldnt stop bombarding my mind.

"Yes, Mr. Roberts was here last Friday," April Sims, a shapely young woman in high heels and a red dress said, when we inquired. Long dark-blond hair falling about her shoulders, the office manager was tall with a wide smile and arrestingly inquisitive almond-shaped green eyes. "Im sure he was here until three-thirty or so. He left, saying he was going to preview houses, and he returned by six-fifteen or shortly after, maybe six-thirty. Why?"

"Were just checking on a few things," I said, being as vague as possible. "Do you know where he was that afternoon? Any record of what part of the city or what houses he previewed?"

"Well, not really," she said.

"Dont the agents tell you where theyre going?" David asked. "It seems to me that they would want someone to know where they were, who theyre with, when theyre showing houses."

"If theyre showing houses," a voice behind us boomed. We turned and saw Grant Roberts walk through the door, blisteringly angry. "Why are you here? I told you I didnt have a client with me. I was previewing."

"Grant, these officers are asking about last Friday."

"Its all right, April," Roberts said. "Its nothing. In fact, they were just leaving."

"Mr. Roberts, I think perhaps it would be a good idea to talk to us in private, in your office," I said. "Obviously, we still have questions."

"Id rather not," he said. "We already spoke, and I told you where I was."

"Mr. Roberts, you need to listen to the ranger. This is one of those we-can-do-it-the-easy-way-or-the-hard-way things," David explained, focusing a cold, dry stare on the man. Instinctively, Roberts shuffled back a step, putting more floor s.p.a.ce between them. His brow knotted, as if angry, David c.o.c.ked his head to the side and let Roberts sweat a moment, before adding, "You can talk to us now, or, and this is a promise, in the very near future the lieutenant will escort you to her office."

Furious, Roberts glared at both of us, but blandly asked the pretty blond office manager, "Is the conference room free?"

"No," she said. "Missy has a client in there. Use my office."

"Thanks," he said, and David and I followed him down a hallway, toward a back corner office with a window overlooking a parking lot.

"I told you where I was," Roberts said. "I wasnt with anyone. I was alone, in my car, driving from house to house all that afternoon, figuring out what to show an out-of-town client who came in that Sunday. Theres no more to tell you than that."

"Is there any way to prove your whereabouts?" David asked. "Any records kept that show what houses you saw when?"

"No, why would there be records?" Roberts said. "Like I said, I was alone. But thats exactly what I did that afternoon. Youll have to trust me."

"Mr. Roberts, when theres been a murder, trust isnt on the table," I said. "Can you tell me, who inherits your sister-in-laws estate?"

"Faith is Billies only living relative, as, Im sure, she told you. But why are you asking that? You dont think she or I could be responsible?"

"Im not implying anything," I said, coolly. "Im asking basic questions that have to be answered in any investigation. Who has motive? Who profits?"

"I think youd better leave," Roberts said, looking more agitated with each pa.s.sing moment. "Now, before I do something Ill be sorry about later."

The man was squirming like a worm pulled out of the earth and exposed to the sun. "Are you sure you havent done that already?" I asked. Roberts fumed but said nothing, as David and I turned and left.

On the drive back to the office, David said, "You know, when I moved to Houston, the Realtor who took me house-hunting used a computerized device of some sort, to open the lockboxes holding the keys."

"Thats interesting, but is this headed somewhere?" I asked.

"Maybe. If those devices are monitored, theres probably a central tracking office. If so, they have records of what houses a particular Realtor enters and when," he explained. "If Grant Roberts was previewing houses at the time Billie c.o.x was murdered, those records would prove it."

"Thats good. Im impressed," I said, and looked over to see David grinning, quite pleased with himself. "When we partnered last year, did I ever tell you about my Dr. Watson fantasy?"

He laughed. "No, I dont remember talking about fantasies, but if we did, I think thats one you left out."