by Rick Polad
“We’re still at the station. How soon can you get here?”
“Half hour.”
I hung up and looked at Carol. “Okay, what are you bursting at the seams with?”
“Well, I just heard on the radio that Mrs. Margot was brought in for questioning about the murder of Mark Nadem, but I’m guessing you just found that out.”
“Yeah.”
“What would they want with her?”
I told her about the gun.
“I just work for a detective, but if I have a gun at my house it seems to me pretty normal that my prints would be on it.”
“But not normal that it’s laying by a body.”
“No… What did Malbry want?”
“He wants me to take the case. Or rather, she wants me to take the case. I imagine that’s the last thing Malbry wants.”
“She’s obviously saying she’s innocent,” said Carol.
“Well, I haven’t heard her say anything yet, but that would be a good assumption. But as far as I know she hasn’t been accused of anything.”
“Do you think she’s innocent?”
I laughed. “What I think doesn’t matter, Carol. You may just as well ask Watson what he thinks. What do you think?”
“As your office manager, or as a mother?”
I smiled at the distinction and held out my hand. “Give me both.”
“As office manager for a private detective I’d normally say I want to know more facts before I take a guess, and then I guess I wouldn’t be taking a guess because we only deal with facts and see where they lead.”
“Normally?”
“Yes, but I don’t work for a normal detective. You don’t always need facts to do what you do.”
I smiled.
“But as a mother, I can see where maybe she is guilty. She has had so much sadness. Her son arrested and then murdered… I can’t imagine. If it were my son, I’d want to strike out at someone, and if I thought I knew who did it…”
“Sadness and anger and revenge all wrapped up in one woman. Not companions that make for rational behavior.”
Watson wandered in the door, wondering where Carol had gone, and laid down next to her chair. She reached down and petted his head.
“So you’re going to take it?”
“Well, seeing as how I’ve spent the last two weeks trying not to take her case and have already quit twice, and have told Aunt Rose I’d be coming up north soon, the obvious answer would be no. The same reasons for not getting involved are still there… a lot of cops and feds, a big deal politician, and a lawyer who wants me to disappear. None of whom I want to have to deal with.”
“Is there a but?”
I took a deep breath. “I’ll think about it some more and have a chat with her before I say no.”
She smiled. “Would you like me to call Aunt Rose and tell her your trip is postponed?”
“Ah, you have added prescience to your many talents.”
The smile turned into a laugh. “I know you, Spencer Manning. You’re a sucker for the underdog… kids, women, dogs, even a crime boss.”
I returned her laugh. “That’s the mother speaking. The detective needs to have a chat with her. I’ll be back later this afternoon.”
“Okay, I’ll wait until then to call Rose.”
“You do that.”
She got up and walked out, followed by Watson who didn’t seem to know who paid for his food.
Chapter 13
On the way to Kenilworth I tuned in to WBBM, the local news station. I didn’t have to wait long for the story. They didn’t have anything more than I did, but they stretched it to ten minutes.
To say that the Kenilworth police station was fancier than Stosh’s precinct building would be an understatement. I had driven past but never been inside. It was a one-story, cream-colored, brick building off of Sheridan Road with an entrance framed in white marble. Visitor parking was around the side. The lot was full of TV trucks and fancy cars.
I parked in the last row and took the concrete sidewalk that ran along the side of the building. The sidewalk turned into a stone path as it curved around the front into a landscaped garden that featured a flagpole, several large boulders, and a bench with a plate that told me the garden was maintained by the Kenilworth Garden Club. Like all the homes along Sheridan Road, the front of the building was a showplace. But those who dared to run afoul of the law in Kenilworth didn’t get to use the stone path.
An officer near the front glass doors asked what my business was. When I told him I was there to see Mr. Malbry, a stony attitude turned polite, and he held the door for me. I guessed the reporters didn’t get to use the stone path either.
I stopped at the desk and was told by a very formal sergeant that Mr. Malbry was with a client and that she would let him know I was there, and I could have a seat. She said “Mr. Malbry” with a tone that bordered on reverence. I sat on the other end of a couch from a woman dressed in a grey business suit who was busy minding her own business reading a magazine. She didn’t even glance at me. After scanning the room, which could have been a small foyer of a hotel, I picked up the magazine that was on top of a fanned pile… Better Homes and Gardens.
By my watch it was twenty-three minutes before an officer opened the door to the right of the desk and told me Mr. Malbry would see me.
***
The interview room made Stosh’s interview room look like a third world country. Soft fluorescent lighting, off-white walls with a few modern art paintings and a photo of the mayor, and a large, oblong, metal-rimmed glass-topped table made me feel like I was in a hotel rather than a police station. But I also figured this wasn’t the only interview room. People who didn’t contribute to the chief’s campaign never saw this place.
Malbry’s three-piece suit and stately bearing matched the ambience. Mrs. Margot’s did not. She looked haggard, like she was on her third day with no sleep. She sat in one of the matching cushioned chairs and looked up at me with desperation, eyes a bit blackened from running makeup.
“Manning,” said Malbry with the same disdain you might show a dog that had just peed on the carpet… again. I looked him over, trying to find something to look down at him about, but there was nothing. Everything from his fingernails to his posture was perfect.
I nodded at him and sat across from Mrs. Margot. I had no idea what to say to her. She started.
“Thanks for coming, Spencer. I don’t know… I don’t even believe this is happening.”
That it was happening was obvious. Why it was happening was something I had been wondering. They wouldn’t have brought in a prominent citizen of Kenilworth without some very good evidence and several conversations between people way above my pay grade.
I looked at Malbry. “Have you learned anything else?”
He looked at her and then back at me with a hard stare. “The murder weapon, with Mrs. Margot’s prints on it, was found next to the body. That’s all they’ve told me so far.”
“Did they have an arrest warrant?”
“No.”
“Then why—?”
“Because they misled her.”
I turned to Mrs. Margot. “Why did you go with them, Jeanne?”
She shook her head. “They told me Chief Sawyer wanted to talk to me. I’ve given him a lot of money, so I thought that would be okay.”
“Did they tell you you didn’t have to go with them?”
“No.”
I looked at Malbry. “Sounds like grounds for a lawsuit.”
“We’re already working on it, but they also didn’t tell her she had to go with them. They were purposefully vague.”
Jeanne started to cry. “I don’t want a lawsuit. I just want this to end.”
Neither Malbry or I responded to that. I was sure he didn’t agree with her.
“So why are we still sitting here?” I asked.
“Waiting for Sawyer to finish with his media show. I’d like to hear what he has to say.”
Jeanne’s mascara was running. I got a box of Kleenex from a side table and set it in front of her. She wiped her eyes and slowly shook her head.
“First my son… and now this. I don’t know how…”
“Now there, Jeanne,” said Malbry. “I’ll get this straightened out. We have an excellent team working on this already.”
That didn’t seem to give her much solace. And I got the feeling Malbry wasn’t including me on his team. That was okay with me.
Malbry turned to me. “Mrs. Margot wants you involved. But with all the attention this is getting and all the agencies that will be involved, it’s important we keep everything centralized.”
That was fancy talk for he wanted to be the big shot.
He continued. “I have to insist that you work for me. You can do whatever it is you do, but you file reports with me and submit bills to me and will be paid by me, and I’ll be the media contact. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly. Couldn’t be clearer.”
“Good, then I’ll get a contract to you this afternoon, and—”
I would have laughed, but I remembered Mrs. Margot was at the table. I just shook my head instead.
“There will be no contracts. Mrs. Margot needs a good lawyer. I assume you are that. I’ll let you take the lead on this and pay my bills, but I don’t sign contracts. And if you want to be the media lapdog be my guest. I don’t find talking to the media to be productive. If there’s anything you need to know I’ll call. I have an excellent office manager who keeps excellent records, and if you need something for court they’re all yours.”
He took a deep breath. He was in a tough spot. His client wanted me, but he certainly didn’t. His attempt to control me hadn’t worked, but I thought I had thrown him enough bones to let him save face.
“Your reports will include all of your activities?”
I slowly shook my head. “No.” If my reports included everything I did, I would have spent most of my time in jail. “They’ll include the facts.”
He reluctantly agreed.
All this wasn’t helping Mrs. Margot. She was wringing her hands in her lap. “When can I get out of here?”
“We’re working on that. Hopefully Sawyer will be here before lunch. If not, we’re leaving.”
“Back to the murder weapon, if I may,” I said. “Can you explain your prints?”
Mrs. Margot looked up at me, but she just looked lost. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Malbry relaxed in his chair, reached out and touched her hand, and said, “The gun belonged to Mr. Margot. It was in a case in his study. The night—”
“I’ll tell him,” she said. She leaned forward with her arms on the table and clasped her hands. “The last night…” Her lips were trembling, and she started to cry. She took a piece of Kleenex and dabbed at her eyes.
“You don’t have to, Jeanne,” Malbry said quietly. I was surprised by his concern.
She nodded, blew her nose, and sat up straight taking a deep breath.
“The last night I saw Reynolds, I stopped him as he was going out of the house. I asked where he was going. He just said out. I kept after him, and when he turned at the door I saw a bulge under his jacket at his belt. I asked what it was. He told me it was none of my business. I ran at him and grabbed at it and knew it was the gun. His jacket wasn’t zipped so I was able to grab it and pull it out of his pants. We fought over it, but he was stronger than me, and he ended up with it.” She cried again and pulled more Kleenex. “I begged him not to take the gun, but…”
Malbry reached out to her again. “That’s enough, Jeanne.”
She gave me a pleading look and then looked down at her hands.
Malbry straightened in his chair and asked if I had any questions.
“Plenty.”
He nodded. “For myself or Mrs. Margot?”
I looked at her. She was still looking down. “Not at the moment.”
“Call my office if you do.”
Somewhere along the way he had lost the attitude.
I assured her that I would do my best, and she gave me that pleading look again.
***
An hour later we all left the station after a chat with Chief Sawyer. He had nothing more than her prints on the gun, and after her explanation he apologized profusely. But he did add one more bit of information. There were two sets of prints found on the gun. The other had not been identified.
The morning did have one positive outcome. For the first time, I was glad Jeanne had Malbry. The Kenilworth police department wouldn’t be so glad.
As I walked to the car, I thought about what had happened in that room and wondered which was the real Mrs. Margot. She had changed several times when she was trying to get me to look into Reynolds’ drug charges. I had walked out of her house not knowing what was real and what was an act. The thought had crossed my mind that maybe it all was an act, that she was a chameleon, capable of changing and using whatever tactic worked best to get what she wanted.
By the time I got to the Mustang, I had decided that I had no idea if her tears were real or an act. And I had no idea if she was capable of murder. She must have known her son was going to see Mark Nadem. And there was one thing I did know… revenge could be a cruel mistress.
***
I stopped at the deli and picked up sandwiches for Carol and me. As I came in the back door, Watson, who was curled up next to Carol’s chair, looked up at me and wagged his tail twice. Progress. As we ate, I told Carol about Mrs. Margot.
“She’s upset, but she’s also a good actress. She could just be upset because she was sitting in a police station.”
“What’s your gut telling you? Do you think she did it?”
I finished the first half of my pastrami sandwich. “That’s a great question. My gut is telling me that I should be wary. I don’t trust her… not a good relationship to have with a client. But I’m keeping an open mind.” I started on the other half. “Still nothing from Thward’s office?”
“No, and I have called several times.”
“Call several more times… every hour. Be the squeaky wheel. The man’s a public servant… he needs to serve the public.”
“Will do.”
I rubbed Watson behind his ears, and that got a few more wags.
Chapter 14
Stosh and I had missed a few Wednesday night gin games over the last few years but not many. He was in the kitchen when I got there.
“It’s not Aunt Rose’s, but there’s cherry pie on the counter,” he said.
I cut a piece, and we sat at the card table in the living room.
With a mouthful of pie, he said, “So, knowing you, I assume you’re back working for Margot.”
I finished my mouthful. “No, I am not,” I said decisively.
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “I must have heard you wrong. Please repeat that.”
I put down my fork. “No, I am not working for Margot.”
“Well, I am pleasantly surprised. You made a good decision to walk away from that case… twice… for good reasons. I figured a murder suspicion would lure you back in. But with all the agencies that are going to be involved in this it’s a good case to stay away from.”
I leaned forward and folded my hands on the table. “I didn’t say that.”
His fork stopped again. “You didn’t say what?”
“That I was staying away from the case.”
He squinted his eyes and gave me his best disgusted look. “No you didn’t… you said you weren’t working for Margot. So who are you working for?”
“It’s a bit confusing. Technically I’m working for M
albry. He wanted me to sign his contract, but I refused.”
“Oh crap! I thought you didn’t like the man.”
“I don’t, but I’m trying to like her, and she’s the one in trouble.”
He shook his head. “You were in and out and back in and back out again, and now you’re back in. The same reasons that you left are still there… but much worse. It was bad enough with just Thward, but there are going to be Washington types tripping all over themselves. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“I’ve ignored those people before, Stosh. What I’ve gotten myself into is helping a mother who has lost everything.”
He put down his fork and leaned back in the chair. “Perfectly good pie shot to hell. Okay, so what have you got?”
“Same as always at the beginning of a case… not much. But there’s no shortage of suspects. I had a talk with Ben about who I can and can’t trust. I think the list of suspects is the same as the people I can’t trust.”
“Who would that be?” He started back in on his pie. Evidently it wasn’t completely shot to hell.
“Well, if Mark was involved in the drug business, Mrs. Margot had every reason to want him dead. She knew Reynolds was seeing Mark, and if she thought he was going to see him that night, she might put two and two together. And if Mark was involved in the drug business maybe his father was too.”
He looked at me with both eyebrows raised.
“Rich and a ranking politician,” he said.
“I’m not saying that’s the way this is… just wondering about the mess that would be.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He sighed and set down the fork. The pie was gone. “Or the last. This job would be a lot easier if the guys who were supposed to be the good guys weren’t sometimes the bad guys.”
“Yeah, you need a scorecard.”
He got up from the table and got the cards out of a drawer in the side table. “Who else?”
“Unfortunately, cops could be bad guys too. There are several here I don’t know. No reason to mistrust Bast or his team, but I’m not closing any doors. And I don’t care what anybody says, I’m not putting a nun on my list.”