“I have cheated,” Martin finally said. “Her name is Carly and she works in my office.”
Orlando felt as if a truck had just run over him. He looked around for the tire tracks. This couldn’t be true. Martin was the one always sticking to his guns about being with one person forever. He was totally committed to Sasha, and he always preached it to the rest of them.
“I know, I know,” Martin began. “It is shocking for me to do that, and it kills me. I am filled with so much guilt! I mean Carly is young and beautiful, and she clearly knows what she is doing; but after it’s all over, I remember I am a married man, and I feel terrible.”
“Does Sasha know?”
“I assume she suspects. I wanted to end this affair with Carly, but I think I am going to have to leave Sasha for her.”
“Why? You and Sasha have been together for years. In college, you always told us how lucky you were to have her, and now you’re throwing it all away… and for some stranger? I mean, earlier you were saying you were afraid of losing her, and now you’re just pushing her away!”
“Yes, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but Carly is able to give me what I want, and that is children. She’s pregnant,” he said.
Martin took a swig of bourbon, and Orlando felt as if he was going to be sick. He knew he was going to be angry.
“You’re two intelligent people! Have you never heard of birth control? You can get some at any pharmacy in the nation!” he said
Martin did not reply. He took another sip of the bourbon.
“You will be divorcing Sasha, then?”
“Yes, but not until I am one hundred percent sure that Carly is pregnant.”
“Are you only divorcing Sasha because this girl might be pregnant?”
“No, I am doing it because Carly and I just click. I have a connection with her, like I used to have with Sasha, and it is just gone now. Besides, she is still young enough, maybe she’ll be able to find a man who doesn’t want children.”
“So, you are willing to throw everything the two of you had away, as if it was nothing.”
Martin was silent for a moment and he shook his head. “I will not deny that we definitely had something, but just don’t anymore. This will be the best thing for the both of us.”
“When will you officially know if Carly is pregnant?”
“In a day or so,” he said. “Please, do me a favor, and don’t repeat this.”
“That’s a tough request. I think Sasha should know this.”
An awkward silence spread over the table. Orlando wasn’t sure what to say, and the loquacious Martin had backed into silence, too.
“I remember how nervous you were about becoming an investigator. It seems to have worked out quite nicely for you,” Martin finally said.
Orlando shrugged. “Still, it’s not everything I thought it would be.”
“Well, nothing is exactly how we think it will be.” He smiled as the waiter came over to take their order. Orlando knew this was going to be a difficult lunch.
###
Emily was again looking up at the clock that hung on the wall, and she watched as the second hand continued to go around and around. She was still waiting around the office for Orlando to show up. Since he hadn’t returned, she was relatively sure that something was wrong. Granted, it was probably not any of her business, but she wanted to know if he was coming back. She liked knowing these things beforehand, that way she could plan out her day.
Unlocking her tablet, she pulled up her calendar and was reminded that Orlando had a lunch date with Martin Hawkins, but that had been about three hours ago. Generally, he would call to let her know he was not coming back to the office.
As she was looking at her cell phone, she wondered if he had his phone on. He didn’t like using it, and she always wondered why he was so hesitant to upgrade to the 21st century. Taking a chance, she called him and it went straight to voicemail, which was no surprise. She looked around the office. She didn’t really need to be here, as they were not expecting anyone today. She pushed her chair back and walked over to the coat rack that stood to the left of the door. Grabbing her jacket, she switched off the lights and was on her way out.
Locking the office door behind her, she walked down the hallway. She remembered when she first started working there that the hallways were carpeted, and now they were tiled. It made it easier for maintenance, she was sure of that, and as she walked, she could hear the slight echo of her footsteps. As she continued walking, she could see the other offices as she passed. There were dozens of them all throughout the building, and most were for legal practices. She knew their office was one of the smaller ones, which was fine, because it functioned perfectly for what they needed. Emily wondered how much longer they would be here though. She knew that her boss was having issues, even if he did not want to say so out loud.
She was alone in the elevator, listening to the elevator music as she rode down. She knew most people disliked, and even joked about, elevator music, but she enjoyed the soft melodies. It calmed her and made it more bearable to be in here when others were crammed in. She disliked being in tight places and knew she needed to get over that, but for right now, she didn’t need to worry.
In the lobby, she saw Tom standing behind the main desk. She didn’t know his last name. The main lobby entrance did indeed appear to be somewhat like a grand hotel, and Tom was the one who took care of the people coming in. He directed them to where they needed to go, even though a directory on the wall showed where the offices were located, and who was in each one.
As she was walking towards the door, she waved, and he returned it with a smile. He appeared to be sleep-deprived and she knew this was not his only job. He was twenty-three and working two jobs. He had stopped going to school in order to take care of his grandmother, who was slowly dying. It was just him and his grandmother, the only family he had, and she could understand the feeling of being completely alone. She pushed open the door and felt the cold air hit her uncovered face. This was the time of year she despised. Beautiful to look at, perhaps, but living with it was another thing altogether.
Hailing a taxi and sliding inside, she instantly felt uncomfortable. Taxis on television looked clean, but in reality, they were the furthest thing from it. The fabric seats were torn and there was trash in them. It smelled like smoke, and there were bars between her and the taxi driver. She knew it was for their own protection, but she felt as if she were a caged bird.
“Where to?” the driver asked gruffly.
“Amsterdam and 22nd,” she said.
He nodded. She could not deny that their town of Primer reminded her a bit of Manhattan, but it was cleaner and not as compacted. As he was driving, she looked at her tablet. She checked for any e-mails or notifications she might have received, but there was nothing. Business was slowing down, but it was most likely due to the holiday right around the corner. People would rather pretend they had no problems until after the New Year came around.
Finally, the taxi arrived at her destination and she paid him. She had always tipped well, something her father had always taught her to do. She was out on the sidewalk in front of his condo. He lived modestly for someone who made as much as he had over the past eighteen months, but she respected that. He gave himself allowances to do certain things, and that was why he still had so much in the bank.
Walking up the steps, she pulled out her set of keys. First, she rang the doorbell. There was no answer. Then, she checked the door and it was already unlocked. She knew he was very bad about locking his door, and that was something he needed to get in the habit of doing. Even living in a decent neighborhood, you never knew if there was an opportunist around.
Opening the door, she slipped inside and locked it behind her. His foyer was small, but it was functional. It had a coat rack and a place to take off your shoes, and that was exactly what she did. Stepping onto the carpet, the first room that opened up was the living roo
m, and that was where she saw him. He was on the maroon couch that had seen better days. That was the thing about him that bugged her. None of his furniture matched and it made her anxious. She had offered to take him furniture shopping, but he declined, saying he didn’t want to go because his furniture functioned and he didn’t need anything more than what he had.
As she walked over to him, she realized he was in a deep sleep. Most people looked peaceful when they were asleep, but he seemed worried and upset. This past month had really gotten to him, and she wanted to be able to help resolve his issues, but he wouldn’t talk to her. Hell, she wasn’t sure her father was able to talk to anyone.
She could see straight through to the kitchen and noticed that he had dirty dishes piled up. He did have a housekeeper who came twice a month, but he obviously needed someone around more often to clean.
Walking to the kitchen, she looked at all the crusted food on his bowls and plates. She knew this would take a while, so she got out her ear buds and plugged them into her phone. Listening to her favorite music, she started in on cleaning up the mess.
###
Orlando tossed the fat folder on his desk in the study. He walked to the kitchen, emptied the coffee maker and put in a new filter. He dumped five spoonfuls of coffee into the filter and slid it back into the machine. He filled the coffee pot with water up to the white line with the ‘5’ next to it. He had been thinking about the cold case all day. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to dive into it. A man who was trying to bring good government to a city should not be forgotten. And his murderer, if still alive, should be brought to justice.
That’s tough for a family, too, he thought. Going through life knowing a mysterious assailant has killed a loved one, and is still walking around free. They were still feeling the emotional pain every day. There should be a resolution, he thought.
The coffee brewed, dripping into the pot. He grabbed a small glass and put three ice cubes in it, then poured in some bourbon. He sipped the drink, thinking he would need more than bourbon to solve the Lyndon Richardson case. How many twenty-five year-old murder cases get solved. Of course, it wasn’t officially a murder case. Investigators had left the option open that it was merely an accident. Possible, but he didn’t think so. Too convenient. Too convenient by far.
The coffee dripped smoothly into the pot as Orlando took another sip of bourbon. If it was a homicide, the two victims had made it easy for the killer. They took the walk several days a week and, from what Jack Richardson had said, their wives walked the same path with them. So, if a killer wanted to dispatch one or more of the four, he would know where they would be. All he had to do was wait, then gun the engine…but he would have to get rid of the car. Slamming into two people would do a good amount of damage, plus there would be blood stains. He couldn’t drive the car until it was repaired. Wouldn’t any repair shop in the area be suspicious? The killing of a mayor and his friend would have generated a great deal of publicity.
The coffee had stopped dripping. He poured out a cup of coffee and took it, and his glass of bourbon, into the study. He sat them down on the desk and opened the folder. He hoped Jack Richardson was a very meticulous man. He wanted to know everything he could about the case.
“Although it means a lot of reading, I hope you put every detail in your notes,” he said.
He sat down and picked up the first sheet of paper.
###
He drank three cups of coffee and two glasses of bourbon by the time he finished his first reading of the documents.
“Great job, Jack,” he said. Richardson had compiled details galore about the crime, and about city politics of Linwood Springs a quarter of a century ago. According to Richardson, at that time the city had basically been controlled by a small group of men for decades. His father had opposed the faction and decided to go into politics. When he and his allies took control of the council, the two remaining incumbents were Al Lydecker and Samuel Brownell. On the papers, Richardson put his opinions in italics. He noted that he didn’t think either man would have anything to do with a murder. Brownell was in his mid-sixties and, although he had looked the other way during some questionable deals that other members of the council made, he wasn’t the type to commit any crimes himself, much less murder. Lydecker was also given a pass by Richardson. He wasn’t a murderer. Orlando thought he wouldn’t rule out either of the two men, but he would give great credibility to Richardson’s opinion. He certainly knew the suspects and the politics of the town.
But a man called Rollo Armister was high on Richardson’s suspect list. Armister was also elderly at the time of the murder, but still dangerous. It was rumoured, in earlier times, when Armister served on the city council, if any man was too persistent a critic, Armister and a few pals would attack him and dump him a few times in the Indian River. Usually, the critic got the message and stayed out of Linwood Springs politics. Richardson added the caveat that, by the time his father took over the council as mayor, Armister had no business ties to the city, and the change in city government policies didn’t financially hurt him.
Richardson noted that Armister did have a friend named Wren Dangler, who was younger and did have certain business ties to Linwood Springs. Dangler was a bit more sophisticated than Armister, who was often called a swamp rat by critics, but just as dangerous. The italics revealed that Armister would not have driven the car himself, but would have hired someone if he wanted to kill the major. If so, Dangler was a suspect.
Another major suspect was Jeremy Bankstrom, the president of the First Citrus Bank in Linwood Springs. The bank was the beneficiary of a number of questionable fiscal schemes that were approved by City Manager Tom DuMars, and City Finance Director Willard Avery. The two had approved putting the city finances in the bank, at no interest. The city finance committee chairman said the city only needed about $400,000 to fund basic services, but the city had more than $1.2 million in the bank, not drawing any interest. Keep the $400,000 in the bank, but put the other $800,000 out for bid, the finance committee advised. As soon as Lyndon Richardson was elected mayor, that’s exactly what the city did. Bankstrom was clearly profiting from the arrangement. Orlando thought there was also a strong possibility that Avery and DuMars were getting kickbacks.
Richardson also described a few city bids that were questionable. It appeared that favored businessmen were chosen for sweet deals. Probably a few kickbacks there, too, Orlando thought.
“So, when the two new officials were elected and Lyndon Richardson became mayor, the illegal money flow was shut off. That might create a lot of resentment and a lot of lost revenue for a few men,” he said.
He sipped his drink again. He felt the juices flowing and his brain engaged. He had been involved for years with petty, gritty little cases that can soil the soul. This was an interesting case and he grew increasingly aware that he wanted to solve it. He wanted to find the killer of Lyndon Richardson and his friend. They should receive justice after all these years. Their families should know a degree of peace.
He decided to take a break and pushed away from his desk. He stood up and walked into the living room, just to stretch his legs. A bathroom was down a corridor, and he moved to look into the full-length mirror on the door. He frowned. He didn’t like what he saw. Looking into the mirror brought home the fleshly reality that he was overweight. Not by a lot, but a doctor would probably tell him it would be good to take off about twenty pounds, and suggest exercise to firm up the remaining weight. He almost chuckled. Yes, get that stomach back in shape. Firm up those muscles. Lift a few weights and get those shoulders firmer. Start walking every day.
He nodded again. He knew better. Often, when a man gets down, emotionally, he will also deteriorate physically and mentally. You start going downhill, and it takes effort to stop. Sometimes, you need friends or an event to start you back on the uphill climb. Orlando knew he had been going downhill. Not fast, he wasn’t accelerating, but he had started
down that path. He grinned when he recalled that old country song, ‘Going Ninety Miles per hour Down a Dead-End Street’. It was rather catchy and told an unnerving truth. He was going ninety-miles per hour, and he was headed down a dead-end street. It was time to turn around. It was an event, the Richardson case that might help him turn around and not crash. That was another reason to solve the case.
Perhaps he owed the late Mr. Richardson, an honest and good man, a debt. He took another deep breath. He felt better that he did when he woke up. The mental and emotional fog that had surrounded him was clearing. It was not sunny yet, but the fog was dissipating and he could see the ground and trees and landscapes.
And he could see the future, at least a brief outline of it, and it looked brighter than it had before
“Thank you, Mr. Richardson. I think I owe you. And if it takes twenty hours a day, seven days a week, I’m going to discover who drove that car.”
He turned around, walked back to his office and sat down at his desk. The key might be here, in these notes, and he was going to find it.
CHAPTER THREE
He went back to his desk and looked at the last two pages of Richardson’s notes. His eyes focused on the last paragraph on the first page, and several names.
Mr. Orlando,
The Linwood Springs investigator who handled this case was Detective Duke Randall of the Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Department. The location of the crime was in the county, although it involved two men who lived inside the city limits. I think Randall was a good detective who did his best. He is now retired and lives in the county. I would also like to point out that the state attorney at that time was a man named Robert Terkle. I don’t think Terkle was a particularly good state attorney. There’s a joke in legal circles that some state attorneys only want to try cases where ‘there’re three eyewitnesses and a signed confession.’ That describes Terkle. I also didn’t trust him to be honest. I think too many questionable deals were made by his office. Two years after this incident, he was voted out of office. I don’t think he was connected to the political situation in Linwood Springs, but I did wish, at that time, and still do, that a better SA was handling the case. But, as mentioned, I had confidence in Detective Randall, and also give high marks to Tuck Williamson, who was the sheriff at that time. In fact, I think Randall is still upset that he was not able to solve the crime.
Family Ties Mystery Series Box Set Page 14