Perverted Justice

by Michael Arches

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. Likely nothing for a while, but you should contact a lawyer to find out what rights you have.”

  I didn’t tell her that men generally left girlfriends out of their wills, either accidentally or on purpose.

  I glanced at the clock on the nearby mantle. It was almost four p.m. I handed her my card. “If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

  She nodded and seemed to have trouble sitting upright. I patted her hand again before hurrying off to intercept Rodriguez. As I left, I gave the names of Blatter’s buddies to Skip and asked him to interview them and any other local pals we turned up while reviewing the victim’s phone records.

  On the way down to the lobby, I called Linda and asked her to rush the collection of Candy’s and Shermie’s phone data and social media posts. She told me she’d struck out in finding an obvious source nearby for the three horses and the trailer.

  We compared notes further, and she agreed someone might’ve taken out Shermie to take Candy for themselves. I wasn’t impressed with her, but guys rarely thought logically when turned on by a bimbo. Instead, they thought with their dicks, which wasn’t thinking at all.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time I needed to think through how such a vicious murder fit with winning Candy’s heart. And why had the killer taken so much time in riding with Shermie deep into the forest? Furthermore, it would’ve been better for a rival if Blatter had simply vanished. That would give the new guy time to make a move on Candy before she freaked out at hearing about his death. Something wasn’t adding up.

  Chapter 3

  In the lobby, I checked with the guard. Rodriguez hadn’t showed yet. I was dressed in my uniform instead of a suit, so I stayed behind the guard’s station where I wouldn’t be seen from the entrance.

  Rodriguez arrived fashionably late. He was a tall, slim man wearing a white silk shirt and fancy blue jeans. Movie-star handsome. When he asked in accented English for the guard to let him pass, I stepped out and took him firmly by the elbow. He tried to pull away, but I kept a firm grip on him. We moved to a quiet corner of the lobby.

  In my I-don’t-have-time-to-fuck-around voice, I said, “Settle down, sir. I’m surprised you’d invite yourself over at such a difficult time in Ms. Kaine’s life.”

  “We’re friends,” he snapped back.

  “Let’s see some ID, friend.”

  He frowned. His Spanish accent thickened as he fought to control his anger. “You aren’t INS. I merely came to console her in her terrible loss.”

  “You’re right, I’m not a Fed, but I am investigating a murder. Either show me identification, or we’re taking a ride to the sheriff’s office. You can contact your lawyer on the way.”

  He stood frozen, as though unsure of his next move. When I grabbed his elbow again to haul him off, he snapped, “Fine.”

  He pulled out a Mexican passport, and I took my time copying down the details, including his address in Ciudad Juárez. His latest immigration stamp was less than a day old, so I doubted he’d hunted with Blatter on Saturday. But he could’ve arranged for a hit.

  When I handed it back, I asked, “Where are you staying, sir?”

  He rattled off an address in Starwood, an exclusive gated community a few miles from town.

  “Nice digs. Yours?”

  He bristled. “My father’s, but I come quite often during the ski season.”

  “Welcome back to Colorado. How’d you happen to meet Ms. Kaine?”

  “Several months ago, in Denver.”

  In other words, back when she was working as a stripper. It wasn’t my job to protect her from the consequences of her bad job choices, but she was in no shape to deal with a horny guy today. “Look, here’s a suggestion. She’s a wreck at the moment. Chill out until tomorrow. Then call again and ask whether she wants to see you. You’re not the only guy who wants to ‘console her in her terrible loss,’ you know?”

  He scowled at me but left.

  Enough of that nonsense. I had more important things to worry about than the mating rituals of the fast crowd. It did occur to me, though, that for a woman so devoted to Blatter, Candy had a surprising number of local male acquaintances. And they all appeared slimy in one way or another.

  -o-o-o-

  My next stop was Sam Frazier’s office. His home also happened to be in Starwood, but on Monday afternoon, I figured he’d more likely be working. The receptionist could’ve passed for Candy’s twin, but her raptor’s gaze told me she was no bimbo. The nameplate on her desk said Felicity James.

  She ignored me for a moment when I walked up to her desk, probably realizing a local cop wouldn’t have enough money to need investment advice. Most of us lived from paycheck to paycheck.

  “Is Mr. Frazier available?” I asked.

  Instead of answering my question, she asked one of her own. “May I ask who’d like to know?”

  I’d already had my full quota of bullshit for the day, so I snapped, “Detective Henrietta Morgan, Pitkin County Sheriff’s Office. I need to see him now.”

  She disconnected her headset, hopped up, and scurried through a set of doors. A moment later, they returned together. Frazier had a full head of snowy white hair and a dazzling smile. Tall and fit, with few wrinkles for a grandpa. He looked casual, but her sideways glances hinted that she was closer to the big boss than a lowly receptionist should be.

  His enthusiasm for meeting me surprised me. He’d never paid me any attention on the few times when we’d crossed paths before. Maybe he’d heard how I’d hit the jackpot with my own sugar mama recently.

  “Welcome, Hank,” he said. “Can lovely Felicity get you anything to drink? Coffee? Juice?”

  I pretended to be friendly right back. “No, Sam, thanks so much. I just dropped by hoping you had a few minutes to chat.”

  “You bet. Come on back.”

  He took me to a richly furnished office as large as my cabin. One long wall was filled with photographs of him and various celebrities, including a former governor. He motioned for me to sit on a pale-yellow, silk upholstered sofa. I did, and he sat next to me.

  Still all smiles. “How can I help the boys in blue, or should I say, the gals in green?”

  I wanted to keep things friendly for as long as possible. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Sherman Blatter was killed yesterday. Shot with an arrow up in the high country. I’m trying to figure out why. You ever work with him?”

  He shook his head. “Never a client, but I did hear about his terrible accident.”

  He’d probably hoped that the lack of a business relationship between them would get rid of me quicker.

  Not this time. “I’m afraid the circumstances surrounding Mr. Blatter’s death are suspicious. We’re trying to find out who he might’ve gotten crossways with recently. I was hoping you might’ve heard rumors? Anybody he’s had trouble with lately? You have as good a sense as anybody about what goes on in town.”

  I worried that I’d laid the flattery on too thick, but he nodded and smiled like I’d spoken the gospel truth. “I do happen to hear things from time to time. Who doesn’t love a bit of gossip to pass the time away? But I’m afraid I can’t think of anything I’ve heard about Blatter. I think most of his business dealings and family are still in Denver.”

  I cut to the chase. “Do you happen to know his fiancée, Candy Kaine? I know you have a fondness for pretty, young women.”

  He grinned from ear to ear. “Thank God, there’s nothing illegal about looking at a beautiful woman. I’ve known Candy for a couple of years. Met her at a strip club in Denver. Enjoyed spending time with her back then. But you know what? They’re just too damned many lovely ladies in this world. Somehow, I lost touch with Candy over a year ago. Then, lo and behold, she popped up at a party right here in town. Prettier than ever. I really should call her and offer my condolences.”

  “Have you spe
nt any time with her here since she came to town?”

  “No, I’m sorry to say. I called her several times, back a month or two ago, but kept missing her. Then Felicity hired on, and well, to be frank, she has Candy beat in every category, funnier, prettier, and a whole lot smarter.”

  Although he was disgusting, Felicity was sharp enough to look out for herself. “One last question, and I’ll get out of your hair. What were you up to on Saturday afternoon?”

  If he was insulted that I’d asked for an alibi, he hid it well. “Lunch at Hotel Jerome with a client from Abu Dhabi. Marco was our waiter and recommended the veal scaloppini, which you should try the next time you and Willow dine there. Then I indulged in a round of windy golf until dinnertime. Our foursome contained two of the county commissioners and a couple of the resort guys. Felicity can get you their names and numbers.”

  I shook his hand and stood. “Perfect. Thanks so much for your time, Sam. I’ll show myself out.”

  He followed me to his door and waved goodbye. I’d struck out but was not disappointed. I was just getting started. Plenty of other creepy guys hung around Candy.

  -o-o-o-

  On my way to Clint Simpson’s bar, it occurred to me that Candy might’ve intentionally sent me in the wrong direction. She could’ve mentioned the names of the two men she was least interested in connecting with again. Neither was likely to buy her an engagement ring. Nonetheless, I needed to run down every possibility of a guy willing to kill for her.

  It was about five p.m., which was very early for a singles bar like Clint’s. Nevertheless, I hoped he’d be there, getting ready for a busy night. A few weeks back, I’d met a friend at Clint’s place on a Monday night thinking it would be quiet. To my surprise, the place had been packed.

  I tried the front door, but it was locked. Then, I knocked, but no answer. Walked around back, and someone had propped the service entrance partly open. I opened the door more. “Clint!”

  “Back here,” he yelled from down a dingy hallway.

  I found him in a tiny office made even more claustrophobic by cases of liquor stacked high. His desk was covered with a jumble of papers. He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair.

  “Oh,” he said. “I thought you were someone else. Look, Hank, I’m really busy. Have a new hostess interview in a minute. I swear I’ll take care of that speeding ticket tomorrow, even though Jason added twenty miles to what I was really doing. Money has been tight lately, what with my asshole landlord jacking up my rent again, but I’ll pay the damn ticket.”

  “I’m not here about your speeding habit, and you have time to talk to me until your job candidate arrives.”

  He didn’t say no, so I launched into the same spiel I’d given Frazier. Got pretty much the same responses, except Clint’s piece of ass was a young blonde waitress named Kristin. I couldn’t understand why these young women were attracted to much older guys, but then I remembered that I had eight years on Willow. It didn’t bother me, and thank God, it didn’t seem to bother her either.

  To Clint, I said, “I’ll get out of your life if you can account for your whereabouts on Saturday afternoon.”

  For the first time, he smiled. “Easy. In the morning, I drove to a former girlfriend’s house in Grand Junction. We’d lived together for a handful of years. Picked up my kid at eleven and took him to a movie. The latest Star Wars. Paid with a credit card. Then, I took him out to eat at Pablo’s Pizza. Credit card again. Didn’t get back here until after seven.”

  I got the ex’s phone number to confirm and left his office. Out in front, someone drove up before I reached my departmental SUV. Jasmine, a young woman who’d moved up from Boulder with her girlfriend who’d gotten a job at the county assessor’s office.

  I waved at her. She hurried over to me and whispered, “Is there a problem here, Hank?”

  “No, just routine. You the hostess candidate?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Do you know Clint? Is he trouble?”

  “No criminal issues I know of, but let’s just say he wouldn’t be my first choice as a boss. By the way, I heard recently that Chandler’s Steak Emporium is looking for another hostess. Frank’s a good guy. You can tell him I sent you.”

  She smiled and patted my arm. “Thanks for the info.”

  As I drove away, I realized I’d struck out a second time in a row. But I still had a couple of names from Candy’s messages, and I could check with Linda again. Who knew how many men would offer Candy a shoulder to cry on? Before I did that, though, I wanted to swing by Margie’s Jewelry to get an independent opinion about Candy and Shermie’s relationship.

  -o-o-o-

  Margie’s Jewelry was located on the town’s short pedestrian mall, which was a nice place to relax for a while. When I first began working as a deputy, Margie had gone out of her way to say hello. I’d quickly learned that we both shared a love for the ballet. Ever since, we’d shared a pair of season tickets to the Colorado Ballet, and we’d gotten to know each other well on the long drives back and forth to Denver.

  I also knew Roxie Roland, one of the women who worked the sales counter. Roxie’s mom was one of our department’s dispatchers. I was looking forward to meeting both Roxie and Margie again.

  When I reached the store, Roxie was manning the sales counter. No customers. This wasn’t a time of year when many rich tourists tended to throng to our town.

  After hugs and hellos, I asked, “Would you happen to know Sherman Blatter and his fiancée Candy Kaine?”

  She nodded. “I heard he died. Is that right? A hunting accident?”

  Seemed like everybody knew at least some of the story. “Right, except for the accident part. I’m thinking more likely he died accidentally on purpose. We’re trying to get to know him and those around him.”

  “Oh jeez, he was just in here with his fiancée. I’m terrible on dates, but within the last week. They looked at engagement rings. Bought something different, a necklace.”

  “Sapphire?”

  She nodded.

  “Did Margie see them?”

  “She was in the back, but she watches the video feed on her computer whenever she’s bored.” Roxie switched to a whisper. “That’s a lot of the time when she’s working on the budget. She’d rather be out here chatting up customers.”

  “Why are you whispering? Does the video include audio?”

  Roxie giggled. “I think she can read lips. She’s all-powerful.”

  I didn’t disagree. “Candy’s story is that she and her guy were serious about getting married right away, but I’m skeptical.”

  “Yeah, I am, too. Not sure what it is, but they don’t sizzle. Margie’s great at reading people. She probably knows. I’ll get her.”

  Roxie took off and came back a few minutes later with a frowning boss. The older woman was tall and solid, with the bearing of a queen.

  She gave me a hug and said, “You know, Hank, we value our clients’ privacy. I just reminded Roxie that we don’t whisper about them behind their backs.”

  “I get it, but here’s the thing. Someone shot the poor bastard in the stomach with an arrow. Let him linger for hours. Could be because of any number of reasons. One of them might be that things weren’t as good between Candy and Shermie as they let on. Whatever the truth is, I need to get on the right track in this case.”

  Margie huffed out of breath. “Roxie, dear, sell some merchandise.”

  The place was still empty, but Roxie nodded.

  The boss beckoned me with her finger. She led me to her back office, which wasn’t much bigger than Clint’s, but it was perfectly clean and organized. An open manila folder with several spreadsheets sat on Margie’s desk. She motioned for me to take a chair in front of her desk. I did, and she sat in her chair. Leaned forward. “This is for your ears alone, agreed?”

  “You betcha.”

  “All I can tell you is guesses and supposition.”

  “Can�
��t remember a thing you’re saying,” I said.

  She smirked. “Tell me your impressions first.”

  I summarized my meeting with Candy and what I thought I’d learned. Then, I said, “Your turn.”

  “Candy seemed very interested in collecting hardware but not over-the-moon in love with her beau. Sherman seemed stressed, distracted. He treated her more like a child than an equal.”

  “She’d be wife number three,” I said. “Did you know?”

  Margie sighed. “Maybe he fooled her with his routine—I tend to doubt it—but he definitely didn’t fool me. For him, the magic was wearing off. Probably for both. I’ve seen too many couples standing out there who were thrilled about the idea of living a lifetime together. It’s amazing, sparks shoot out like fireworks on the Fourth. None of that jazz with Sherm and Candy.”

  “What about the huge ass sapphire?”

  “A nice piece, and we’re proud to offer it in our collection. My guess is that it was intended to thank her for what they’d been to each other, not what they’d be in the future.”

  Out loud, I thought through the implications. “Maybe she thought she’d be happy with his fancy lifestyle, but it wasn’t enough. She was hoping for more, like diamonds instead of sapphires?”

  I looked at my older friend for her reaction.

  “I’ve said it before, Hank. You are a very cynical woman.”

  I tried—without much success—to keep from grinning. “You show me a cop who’s not, and I’ll show you a rookie.”

  She shrugged. “Unfortunately, I agree with your theory. They made a financial arrangement, not a passionate romance, and the end was probably near. But nothing is for sure when it comes to love.”

  God, I’d missed our get-togethers. I hadn’t talked to Margie for months because the ballet season had ended in April. We were scheduled to go to the first performance of the new season in about ten days. Willow was going to join us. We were going to have a blast. I just knew it.

  “What about this idea?” I asked. “What if Candy has a Mr. Plan B already? Let’s say she told him that Blatter wanted a quick wedding, but really she was hoping Mr. Plan B would step in front of Blatter.”