Before I left Banning’s cabin, I received a call from Sheriff Taylor. “You OK, Mike?”
“Just my pride is hurt. I screwed up on this one, Boss. I should have done the interrogation at my office, not on Banning’s territory.”
“I heard about the dogs; we’ll get him for attempted murder of a law enforcement officer,” the sheriff said.
“That would be tough to prove. I didn’t hear him say anything to sic the dogs on us; he just ran past them and left the door open. It was probably an assault while resisting arrest. Have they found him? I called it in within a few seconds of his reaching the highway.”
“He dumped that truck in the mall parking lot. The Flagstaff police have the area covered. They should get him soon. I have every deputy in the county on alert too. Were you bringing him in for the Cantor murder?”
I had to think that over for a few seconds. Why had I been bringing him in? He had only admitted hunting without an elk tag, and that was a matter for Game and Fish. “We were just going to press him a little on his whereabouts on Sunday. He claimed to have been hunting with a client. When I checked on the client, the phone number was actually for one of Banning’s cousins in LA who tried to alibi him using a fake name. I have nothing to tie Joe Banning directly to the murder. However, he knew where Dr. Cantor planned to hunt, and this murder was committed by an expert shot. Banning also disclosed that he has twenty-five thousand in cash; he claimed it came from a hunting client.”
“That’s a damn expensive hunt. We have plenty to hold him on, and you can decide if you want to charge him on the Cantor murder later. Are you coming back to the office?”
“No, I’m on my way to see Dr. Cantor’s wife. I have some tough questions for her. She claimed to be in LA with her sister when her husband was killed, but I believe she was shacked up with one of his partners at Del Coronado at the time.”
“The press is sure to call about Banning. He has about a hundred relatives in town, and the APB will be noticed. I’ll tell them he’s wanted for assault on Sean Mark at this point. Come by my office with an update after you meet with the widow.”
I called Alexis Cantor to let her know I was running late, but that I’d be there by 1:45. She said she’d fix me lunch.
As I climbed into my Explorer, a fierce pain in my lower back reminded me that I’m over fifty and not in shape to have a tussle with a grizzly-bear-shaped man who is twenty years younger. I waited a few seconds for the pain to pass. It didn’t pass, and the mile drive on the gravel road was no fun. By the time I was on the interstate, I’d put the lumbar pain out of my immediate consciousness and focused on how I would handle the upcoming interview with the widow Cantor.
After I pulled off Interstate 17 for Highway 89A, which leads to the entrance to Forest Highlands, I called Margaret. Although she doesn’t like calls at work, I wanted to tell her I was fine before she heard about the activity at Banning’s cabin. It was 1:25 and the news might be out. She was glad I called since she had already heard about it from a customer who had listened to the KNAU radio news. She knew that Sean had been taken to the hospital. I gave her a brief update.
Her final comment was, “Alexis Cantor may lead you to the murderer. This threesome thing mentioned in the sexual harassment suit might be important.”
Threesome thing — I had dismissed Karla Sheen’s claim as libel, but Margaret certainly hadn’t rejected it. I’m a very conventional man when it comes to my love life; more than two people in a bed is too weird for me. However, I’ve been in law enforcement long enough to see every possible sexual combination. I’d also come of age in the 1970’s when there was a lot of experimentation.
I showed the photos of Mathew Andrews and of his new truck to the two guards on duty at Forest Highlands. They knew the young man. One guard produced a photo of Mathew from a bulletin board and explained, “We’ve been running him off for a couple of months ever since Dr. Cantor gave us his photo. He’s some kind of stalker.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” I asked.
“We caught the little snake sneaking on to the golf course last Saturday. We checked with Dr. Cantor, and he didn’t want us to call the Sheriff’s Department. We just turned him loose. When my shift was over, I saw him again; he was parked in a white new truck not far from the highway about half a mile from here.”
“What time was that?”
The guard pulled out a time card and looked at it. “I left at exactly 7:14 on Saturday evening.”
Both guards were willing to testify that Mathew had tried to sneak onto the golf course near Dr. Cantor’s house Saturday afternoon. One guard could establish that Mathew was still parked nearby after sunset. The location he indicated would put Mathew in the perfect spot to have followed Dr. Cantor as he went for his hunt early Sunday morning.
It added up to enough for an arrest warrant since he had been violating a court order to keep away from the Cantors. Unfortunately, it was well short of what was needed for a conviction in a murder. I wanted to find someone who might have spotted Mathew or his truck near the Weatherford trailhead Sunday morning.
“Did you notice a gun rack in Mathew’s window when you passed his truck?” I asked.
‘Don’t remember a gun rack, but there might have been one. I do remember that the truck still had the paper dealer’s tag in the window. I think I would have noticed a rifle since we were expecting trouble from the guy.”
A guard phoned Alexis Cantor to let her know that I was at the gate for our appointment. When I reached her house, she was waiting with the door open. She invited me to join her for lunch on the terrace while we talked. The covered terrace was like an open air living room with a Spanish tile floor and nice furniture. There was a fire in the outdoor fireplace near the table. I was famished and glad to have the offered food.
“Thank you for coming to give me an update on your investigation,” she said after we were seated. “I heard about the search for a hunting guide. The news said he was being questioned about Zack’s death. Please, tell me all about it after lunch.”
The table was set with a floral cloth; the plates were fine china. My lower back screamed at me again when I sat. The lunch was a tiny fruit salad and a strange array of little sandwiches, none of which contained any real meat. They had been cut into little circles and stars with cookie cutters. I would probably need to stop at KFC for a snack afterwards. Of course, I was here for a lot more than giving her an update, but I assumed that it was best if she remained relaxed and talkative until I brought up her trip to San Diego.
“Are you here alone? Did your sister go back to LA already?”
“Sandra is driving up tomorrow. She’s a non-practicing attorney and willing to help me with the legal issues. This afternoon, she has appointments with the executor of Zack’s estate and the office manager at his clinic. Actually, I wanted a day to be alone and grieve. I loved Zack so much that I can’t imagine my life without him.”
I offered my condolences again and ate a watercress and cream cheese sandwich washed down with some extremely tart lemonade. I was thinking about how to broach the subject of her adultery with a partner of her late husband as I chewed a cucumber and lox sandwich on rye shaped like a Star of David.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The dessert was a tiny sliver of angel food cake. It was obvious how Alexis Cantor kept her perfect figure; she didn’t eat. The meal was probably less than two hundred calories. After I finished the two bites of cake, it was time to begin the interview in earnest.
“What can you tell me about Mathew Andrews?” I asked as Mrs. Cantor poured us both a cup of herbal tea.
“Creepy guy – Zack had to get a court order to keep him away from us. Do you think he was involved rather than the hunting guide?”
“Both are suspects. I interviewed Mathew yesterday with his attorney present. He maintained that he spent the whole weekend in Phoenix, but the Forest Highlands guards say he tried to sneak into the neighborhood on Saturday. Tell me abo
ut the reasons for the restraining order. How well do you know him?”
“He was a good patient of Zack’s who I met a couple of times at our Paradise Valley house. When Zack realized that the man was an obsessive surgery addict, he wasn’t willing to keep him as a patient. Mathew came to the house so many times looking for Zack that I got afraid of him, but I haven’t seen him in a month. I had assumed he found another doctor.”
“Tell me about the social occasions that brought Mathew into your house.”
“He came to dinner a few times. At first we thought he was funny and good natured, but his obsession with Zack along with his need for constant surgeries became a problem.”
“From your tone, I’m guessing that Mathew thought of Zack as more than his doctor. Was there something more to it?”
“My husband was a beautiful but very masculine man. I think Mathew developed a crush on him, but maybe I’m misinterpreting things. Maybe, he thought of Zack as just a friend. I understand Mathew was from a difficult family environment. Zack was totally faithful to me, so Mathew had no chance of fulfilling his fantasies.”
“Is there anyone else that might have wished your husband ill? The evidence points to a contract killing by an expert who ambushed him at Doyle Saddle.”
“Everyone loved Zack. No one would kill him.” She seemed completely sincere.
“There is another matter that I will keep confidential unless it leads to your husband’s murderer and comes out in court. Were you aware that he was under investigation by the DEA for involvement in prescription drug abuse?”
“Oh my, the DEA. That’s terrible. I warned Zack against taking those steroids and hormones, but he assured me they were both legal and healthy. He was very conscious of how he looked and thought they were important in keeping his youthful appearance. Zack was a wonderful man but a little vain and wanted to look like he was still in his twenties.”
“The case was not about steroids. It concerned an unusual number of prescriptions for a powerful narcotic. Since your husband’s death, the DEA has stopped the investigation, but I’m looking at every angle that might be connected to his murder. The narcotics trade is extremely dangerous, and your husband might have tangled with someone who wanted to keep the DEA from talking with him. Was there anyone around him that you suspect was connected to drugs?”
“One of our neighbors is from Columbia, Carlos Ramon. I’ve heard from other neighbors that he has a checkered past and is not welcome back in his home country. We weren’t friends except that he came to the house for some charity events. Zack hated drug abuse; he would never have gotten involved in selling narcotics. Why would he risk his career? We certainly didn’t need the money. I inherited a little, and Zack made good money. We’re comfortably well off.”
“I need to follow every lead. There’s something else that I need to clarify. What is your relationship with Steven Boatwright?”
“He’s a darling man; a good friend of my husband’s. That’s all.” She wasn’t a good liar.
“Was it a coincidence that you sat next to him on your flights to and from San Diego?”
She drew her chair back from the table as if ready to bolt from the patio. After a few seconds she regained enough composure to say, “Zack and I planned the vacation together, but when Zack won the elk tag, he suggested that Steven go instead.”
“The desk clerk at Del Coronado reported that you registered as Mr. and Mrs. Boatwright. You paid $7,000 for the room in cash.”
I thought she might tell me to get the hell out of her house and that her attorney would be present at any future interviews, but she said nothing. She started to cry and pulled out a fancy linen handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. Her mascara was starting to run, but even under stress, she was a gorgeous woman.
After a few minutes, she said, “You can’t understand how much I loved Zack. He’s the only man I’ve every really cared about. I would have done anything for him.”
“Yet, you had an intimate relationship with his partner, a man he had brought into the clinic. A man who told me Zack was his best friend in Arizona.”
“I only loved Zack. I would never have done anything behind his back. Our trip was with his blessing. Originally, all three of us were going. There was nothing underhanded about it.”
“You had your sister cover for you, and you pretended to be in LA. You’ve lied to me from my first phone contact with you. When I called you with the news of your husband’s death, you were on the beach with Steven Boatwright in San Diego. What should I believe? You’re not very credible at this point Mrs. Cantor.”
She broke down again, and I just waited for her to regain her composure. I wanted to learn as much as I could before she had a chance to retain an attorney or talk to her sister about my interrogation. After a few minutes, I said gently, “Please, tell me the details. If you and Steven were not involved, I need to move on to whoever actually killed your husband. You can see why I’m confused about your relationships.”
“I can’t say. It can’t get out about Zack and me.”
“I promise to keep whatever you say confidential unless I’m asked in court. You have to make me understand this contradiction.” I thought of Karla Sheen’s claim of sexual harassment and guessed what the relationship was.
“Zack and I liked sex best if there were three of us. We got most aroused by having another man in bed, a threesome. That worked better for both of us than two women and a man. We discovered we shared this taste even before we married. The extra man was never important to our lives. We began with male prostitutes, but we both were afraid of diseases even though we used protection.”
“Your husband was bisexual?” I asked.
“Not exactly. He never wanted to actually have sex with the extra man. He wanted me to enjoy satisfying both of them at the same time. That was the problem with Mathew Andrews. When we got intimate with him, he wanted to be with Zack rather than me.”
“What about Steven Boatwright? How did he get involved?” I was grossed out, but I tried to sound non-judgmental.
“We met Steven at a convention, and one thing led to another. Both Zack and I liked him, but Steven dates a lot of beautiful young women. He’s an extraordinarily good lover and extremely charming. Our house parties were just an occasional diversion for him. There’s no reason he would want to hurt Zack. I know it sounds like some sort of love triangle, but Steven was just a friend with similar tastes.”
“You have a substantial trust fund. Maybe Steven wanted Zack out of the way to have you for himself.”
“He would know that I’m not interested in him in that way. I love the arts, literature, and the theater. Steven loves baseball and bars. We have nothing in common. I would never choose him for a long-term relationship. There can never be another man like Zack in my life.”
“I know it’s a very sensitive and private issue, but I need to know who else shared your house parties. Was there anyone besides Mathew Andrews that might have been hurt by being excluded?”
“Not really. The only real awkwardness came when we had Amanda Brandt and her boyfriend Trevor Joyce over. Trevor was just back from the Middle East and out of the army. He was too eager, very premature and unsatisfactory as a sex partner, like a horny teenager. Frankly, I don’t like Amanda that well either; she’s a very cold woman. It was a one-time thing that started in the hot tub and led to frustration. I know this sounds like we’re swingers from the 1980’s, but really, Zack and I were very conventional people in most ways.”
We talked for another fifteen minutes, but she kept to her story. I didn’t understand their relationship, but I believed she had loved her husband.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I went to the Flagstaff Medical Center to see how Sean was doing before going back to my office. It was a busy place on a Friday afternoon. Sean was sitting in an examination room with an ice pack on his injury; he claimed that he would be in my office by 8:00 in the morning to continue helping with the investigation. I adm
ired his eagerness, but I wondered if he would be able to concentrate under the circumstances.
The emergency room physician checked my lower back. He gave me a prescription for pain pills and told me to go to my family physician if it wasn’t better in two days. I didn’t fill the prescription. I don’t use pain pills unless there is no choice; maybe the hot tub would help when I got home. Margaret thinks that avoiding pills is crazy, but I’ve seen too much damage done by their abuse. They also affect my concentration.
The prescription caused me to recall those I’d seen in the DEA office. The one I just received was scrawled in an illegible hand so that I wasn’t even sure of the name of the medication. Dr. Cantor signed the ones in the DEA office; however, a computer had printed the details of the drugs. That had not seemed odd at the time, but now it did. A computer generated prescriptions made me assume that a nurse or assistant had actually filled out the details of the document that the physician signed.
When I met with Sheriff Taylor, he explained that Joe Banning was still on the loose. The fugitive had borrowed a car from a cousin who works at the Sears in the Flagstaff mall. She claimed that he told her that his truck had broken down and that he would return her car in an hour. His cousin’s car had been found a few minutes ago in the south parking lot at Northern Arizona University. There was no sign of Banning. Finding him was getting complicated.
The details of my investigation took about half an hour to explain to the sheriff. He asked a number of questions and seemed interested in the sexual exploits of the murder victim. It added spice to the story. Sheriff Taylor said that he would honor my commitment to keep the sexual details confidential.
Mathew Andrews was our best suspect, and we discussed bringing him in for violating the restraining order. Finally, we decided to get a warrant to search his residence for the Winchester he claimed was stolen. If we could prove he killed the elk at Doyle Saddle, it might be enough to convict him for the murder. We decided to execute the warrant tomorrow morning about 11:00. The sheriff would arrange to coordinate it with the Scottsdale Police Department.
The Dead Man at Doyle Saddle Page 9