Sharpe Mind, Hanging by a Thread

by Lisa B. Thomas

  “The police think Miss Wilde was attacked around seven o’clock, just before sunset, based on the condition she was in when they got there. Roscoe claims he was at home with Tonya Webber. That’s her real name. She’s the psychic—and his girlfriend. They moved here from Las Vegas and set up shop. He has an outstanding warrant for his arrest.”

  Deena looked up from taking notes.

  “For pick-pocketing. But, since he’s proven to be a flight risk, the judge denied bail. To be honest, I feel better with him behind bars. That way he can’t do anything stupid.”

  She wrote as fast as she could, feeling like she’d just opened Pandora’s Box and a whole bunch of new characters popped out.

  “So Sister Natasha is his alibi?”

  “Yes, pretty thin, don’t you think?”

  “More like medium. Because she’s a psychic...” She bit her lip.

  “I got it.” He tapped his pen on the desk. “You know that Sandra has bought that psychic’s shtick hook, line, and sinker. What do you think?”

  “I’m on the fence. Did you ask Roscoe about her?”

  “He’s being tight-lipped about the business. I didn’t push him on it for now. I was more interested in what he said about Marty Fisk. Says he was doing a job for him last night. That’s why he was at Miss Wilde’s house. Seems Fisk has paid him to scare her. Trying to get her to sell her house.”

  “Poor Katy.”

  “Miss Wilde. That’s how we need to refer to her since we are defending Roscoe. It makes her seem less sympathetic.”

  She had a lot to learn. “So what did he say he was doing there last night?”

  “Get this. Fisk paid him to release bats in the house. Says he looked inside, and she was already on the ground. He thought she was dead and ran off. A neighbor called the police, and they picked him up trying to get away.”

  Ian went on to explain how Roscoe got the bats at the back of the pawn shop and took them over to the house. The police had the shoebox, and there were definite signs of it having held the bats. But since Roscoe was wearing gloves, there were no fingerprints. Ian told her about the blood on the windowsill and on Roscoe. The police were waiting to see if any of it belonged to the victim. The fact that he was covered in glass and that she had been hit on the head with an iced tea pitcher, didn’t look good for his case.

  “So if the assault occurred at seven and he was arrested at around midnight, how do the police explain the discrepancy?”

  “For now, they don’t have to explain anything. They’re just gathering evidence. They will likely say he was going back to finish the job or cover his tracks.”

  Ian twisted back and forth in his swivel chair, just the way Lloyd Pryor did when he was thinking. “I guess you can see why it’s important to know what’s going on with Councilman Fisk.”

  Deena cleared her throat. “Here’s what I know.”

  Now Ian became the note-taker.

  She told him about the meeting with the homeowners and his offer to buy their property.

  “All or nothing? That’s unusual,” Ian said.

  She went on to tell him about the re-zoning proposals and Jackson Oil and Gas. She also told him about the real estate agent and the latest offer to buy Katy’s house. Finally, she mentioned the insurance policy and Travis Wilde.

  “I’m not sure it’s a smart legal tactic to tie the murder case and the assault charge together. But from an outsider’s standpoint, it seems all roads point to Marty Fisk. However, if I were Travis’ attorney, I’d definitely be looking at all those other residents. You say there’s six or seven? Who’s to say one of them wasn’t tired of waiting for Mrs. Wilde to die or change her mind? Then when they found out Miss Wilde was stonewalling, they went after her, too.”

  “Dan and I talked to Mrs. Canfield. She definitely had a motive and the opportunity since she lives right next door to the Wildes. For that matter, I guess the realtor, Charla Hicks, could be a suspect, too. If she were brokering those deals, she stood to make a sizable chunk of change.”

  Ian grinned and waved his pen toward Deena. “Now you’re thinking.”

  “Is it a big deal that Katy—Miss Wilde—was dating a married man?”

  “Of course it is. The man might have wanted to cover up the affair, or his wife could have found out about them. Jealousy and greed are two strong motives. What’s his name?”

  Deena wished she had kept her mouth closed. Gary had already cleared Ned, and she’d promised Katy she wouldn’t say anything. Still, she had never thought about it in the way Ian had put it.

  Ian seemed to sense her hesitation. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a witch hunt. Don’t you want to get to the truth? The police will find out anyway. Believe me, affairs are usually the first things they uncover.”

  Deena thought about Marty Fisk. Dan had easily figured out that Marty was cheating on his wife with Georgia Parks. “I suppose you’re right. His name is Ned Garrison.”

  Ian looked up again. “I know Ned. He used to do my taxes. It’s always the quiet ones.” He made a note. “I’m going to talk to Detective Evans. He needs to look into Fisk’s business dealings. See if he has an alibi for these two crimes. I also need to talk to Roscoe to see if he knows more about Fisk than he’s saying. You should be there, too. Do you want to look at the crime scene photos?”

  She flinched. “Not yet.”

  “I get it. We’ll meet at the jail at nine in the morning. Okay?”

  “Sure.” She stood up, holding the notepad against her chest. “Just one thing. Why would the police bother to investigate Fisk now? They’ve got their man...both of them?”

  “That’s where we come in. We raise the questions. If they are compelling enough, the police will follow up. The DA’s office is a pretty good bunch. Nobody wants to see an innocent person go to prison.”

  That’s how Deena felt, too. But in this case, it seemed like everybody was guilty of something.

  Chapter 24

  Deena tapped her foot nervously Wednesday morning, waiting with Ian for the guard to bring in Roscoe Trainor. The small office was used for attorneys to meet with their clients.

  “We need to get you some business cards,” Ian had said when they went through security.

  It seemed funny that things were moving so fast. Conventional wisdom was that the wheels of justice turned slowly.

  The guard opened the door and led Roscoe inside. He was wearing the full criminal get-up, including an orange jumpsuit, leg chains, and handcuffs. Both of his hands were wrapped in gauze and there was a bandage on his face where he had gotten stitches.

  Ian motioned toward the leg restraints. “Are these really necessary?”

  “You know the rules,” the guard said. He pushed Roscoe down into a chair. “I’ll be right outside.”

  Ian waited for the guard to leave. “Roscoe Trainor, this is Deena Sharpe. She’s going to be assisting me.”

  “Hello.” She reached out her hand to shake, but pulled it back quickly when she saw the handcuffs. Oops. Another felony faux pas.

  “I know you,” Roscoe said. “You’re that reporter.”

  “Was a reporter,” Deena said. “Now I’m working for Mr. Davis.”

  “Are you doing okay?” Ian asked. “Do you need anything?”

  “Other than getting out of here, not really.”

  “I’m doing my best,” Ian said. “I wanted to ask you a few more questions about Martin Fisk. You said he rented the house you and Miss Webber are living in. When did he first contact you about working for him?”

  “It was about a week ago. I was...at the bank. He saw me and said he wanted me to do a couple of jobs for him.”

  Deena took notes. Ian asked the questions.

  “Tell me about those jobs,” Ian said.

  “First, he wanted me to go to the bar and talk to that girl. See if she was planning on moving into her grandmother’s house.”

  “Did he tell you anything about Mrs. Wilde? About how she died?”

 
; “Absolutely not. I probably wouldn’t have agreed to help him if I’d known that.”

  “Did he tell you why he wanted to know her plans?”

  “No. Not that day. A few days later, he called and wanted me to go over to her house and spook her. I asked why. He said he was trying to get her to sell the house.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I went over late that night—on Sunday— and banged around on the outside of the house. Wanted it to sound like a burglar or a ghost.”

  Deena was starting to get a picture of the real Roscoe Trainor. A guy who’d do anything for a fast buck. “Did you tell Natasha—I mean Tonya, what you were doing?” She tried not to glare at him.

  He cut his eyes at her. “No. She didn’t need to know about my extracurricular activities.”

  “But she’s a psychic,” Deena argued. “Wouldn’t she know anyway?”

  He pursed his lips and looked back at Ian.

  “What else did he pay you to do?” Ian asked.

  “Just the thing with the bats. I told you about that yesterday.”

  “Have you ever heard of Jackson Oil and Gas?”

  “No.”

  “Did Mr. Fisk ever mention anything about oil wells?”

  “No.”

  Ian looked back at his notes. “You said you called him when you were in the parking lot of the pawn shop. Do you know where he was at the time?”

  “Nope, and I didn’t ask. He seemed plenty mad. Said he’d told me about leaving the box in the dumpster, but I swear he didn’t.”

  “I’m curious,” Ian said. “Why were you and Tonya in Maycroft to begin with? What did you do in Las Vegas?”

  Deena was dying to hear the answer to that one.

  “I worked the clubs as a magician. She...was...a psychic. We got tired of Vegas and decided to head to Florida. When we broke down here, we liked the place so much we decided to stay. That’s it.”

  Deena wanted to say something, but held her tongue.

  Ian nodded his head, and then reached into the bottom of his folder and pulled out some pictures.

  Deena darted her eyes away when she realized what they were.

  “Take a look at this picture,” Ian said. “Do you see that black swatch of fabric on the floor? It appears to be made of velvet. It looks like it got caught in the door and tore off of something. Do you know where it might have come from?”

  “No sir. It didn’t come from me. I was wearing a black t-shirt. I don’t think it tore, and it certainly wasn’t made of velvet.”

  Ian stuck the pictures back in the folder. “Okay. That’s about it for now. We’re going to need to talk to Tonya. Verify your alibi for seven o’clock.”

  “No!” Roscoe said. “Leave her out of this.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow. “Why? What’s the problem?”

  For the first time during their interview, Roscoe looked nervous. He clenched his hands tightly. “It’s just that she doesn’t know about my deal with Fisk. I don’t want her to know I was lying to her.”

  “We’re going to have to talk to her eventually. I’ll wait a couple of days to give you time to tell her yourself. Deal?”

  “I guess.”

  Ian stood up and knocked on the door for the guard. Roscoe was taken away.

  Deena waited until they were gone. “He’s hiding something, you know.”

  Ian stuffed his notepad and folders back in his satchel. “I know.”

  “Do you want me to talk to Tonya before Roscoe has a chance to get to her?”

  “We’re the defense team, remember? He’ll tell us the truth, don’t worry. For now, we need to talk to Detective Evans and convince him to look into Marty Fisk.”

  Deena shook her head reluctantly.

  Ian gave her a sideways look. “You’re still on board, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. As long as this ship is headed for truth-ville, I’m on board.”

  Chapter 25

  Signs warning visitors that their conversations with inmates may be recorded were nothing new for Roscoe. He wasn’t surprised that this hole-in-the-wall jail hadn’t upgraded to video visitations either. The guard sat him down in the chair and stood in his spot against the back wall. “Ten minutes.”

  Roscoe was relieved to see Tonya in her Natasha get-up. He hadn’t told anyone that she was a fake and was crossing his fingers they could keep up their little charade. He scooted his chair up toward the glass wall and picked up the phone. “Hey, baby. You look beautiful.”

  She was red-faced and spittin’ mad. “Shut up. I can’t believe this happened. What am I supposed to do? I had to take a cab over here.”

  “I didn’t do it,” he said. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Whatever.” She glanced back at the guard. “Did they give you a lawyer?”

  “Yes. Ian Davis. He’s going to be contacting you.”

  “What am I supposed to tell him? I know what happened. I know you—” She lowered her head. “Why were you over there anyway? It was that girl from the other day, wasn’t it?”

  “It’s not what you think. I told you, it was all a big mix up.”

  Tonya rested her head in her hand. “When are they letting you out on bail?”

  “They’re not. It’s because of Vegas.” He watched her face turn pale.

  “What if we pay your bond for that? We’ve got a lot of money now.”

  He flashed his eyes at her, sending her veiled lies and secret signals. “No we don’t, remember? Besides, I think it’s too late now.”

  “Have you told your lawyer about our...business?”

  “I told him that you are the most awesome psychic ever and that I’m so glad you picked me to be your boyfriend.” He needed her to know he was keeping her identity a secret for now.

  “I’ve quit seeing customers and don’t plan to see any more until this mess is over with.”

  “That’s probably a good idea. You know best.” As much as it pained him, he needed her on his side now. He hated being in a position of needing Tonya or anyone. He felt weaker than the jail guard standing behind him, checking out his hot girlfriend.

  “What should I do about a car? I have to go to the market and stuff. Do you know when the police will release yours?”

  “I have a feeling the car is toast. It was held together with super glue to begin with. We can get another one when I get out.”

  She grimaced, her tone sarcastic. “But dear, I’m not going to schlep back and forth on foot waiting for you to get out of here. I sure don’t want to waste our very hard earned money on cabs. The money I earned while you jaunted around town meeting women at bars and such. Just tell me where you put the money, and I’ll take care of everything.”

  How could she have known that? Was she a mind reader? Had she followed him? He wasn’t used to her having the upper hand. He managed a faint smile, even though his cheek stung from the stitches. “Check the top of the closet.”

  She went from annoyed to furious. “I checked the top of the closet, you lying pig! And the bottom and the drawers and every other inch of that rat hole. Now tell me where it is, or I’ll go to the police and tell them everything.”

  This was a side of her he’d never seen before. He was grateful for the Plexiglas partition protecting him from her claws and fangs.

  The guard shuffled his feet, probably impatient for the visit to end.

  He wasn’t the only one. “Now there’s no need to do that.” From the looks of things, he was going to have to trust her this time. “Check inside your tall black boots.”

  “My boots?” Lightning bolts flew out of her eyes. She clenched her teeth. “It better be there.”

  “It is. Trust me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s a laugh. Like I trusted you with that girl?”

  Before he could try to defend himself, she slammed down the phone and stormed out of the room.

  Helpless to do anything, he replaced the receiver. The guard took his arm to lead him b
ack to his cell. His mind reeled. Just when he needed her, she had turned on him. He needed to fix this quick. Maybe it was time to come clean to his lawyer about everything. Especially about Tonya.

  Chapter 26

  When she got to Ian’s office after lunch, Deena had a buzz. And not the good kind. Her brother suffered from migraines, and she wondered if this was how they started.

  Luckily, Rob had coffee brewing when she arrived.

  She had stopped by to check on Katy at the hospital. They had moved her to a room on the second floor. The nurse said the doctor was cautiously optimistic about her condition, and they were keeping her sedated until the swelling on her head went down.

  “Howdy,” Rob said in a voice that was much too chipper. He eyed the skull and crossbones umbrella but made no comment. “We set up a spot over here for you to work. I put some basic office supplies on the desk. If you need anything special, just let me know. I don’t know if Ian is going to get you a computer or not. You can use that file cabinet.” He motioned to a five-drawer metal model just like the ones she used to have at school.

  She sat down in the swivel chair behind the desk and almost fell over backwards. Being the new kid in the office was uncomfortable. It reminded her of when a new student would come into her class in the middle of the year and look so lost and sad. She wanted to see Ian’s friendly face.

  Following her nose to the coffee pot, she walked past Amy who once again was on the phone. Ian’s cubicle was empty. She refilled her tumbler with coffee, adding extra sugar for a pick-me-up.

  “Ian should be here in about ten minutes,” Amy announced.

  Deena walked back to Amy’s desk. “Does he usually take long lunches like this?” She slugged down a gulp and burned her lip.

  “He’s not at lunch. He’s been over at the police station talking to Detective Evans.”