Zoe set the evidence bags on the counter. “Thanks. He’s what the favor’s about.” She touched the bags gently. “This is from his autopsy. I’d really appreciate it if you could expedite the lab work.”
Gloria looked up at Zoe. “You do know how backlogged we are.”
“I know.”
“And turnaround on these things is somewhere around four to six weeks.”
“I know.”
“If I bump a case ahead in the queue, I could lose my job.”
“I know.” Although Zoe doubted the county would fire someone as skilled and dedicated as Gloria.
They stared at each other. Gloria silently imploring Zoe to back down from her request, Zoe maintaining her stance.
When Gloria didn’t blink, Zoe touched the bags again. “It’s Franklin.”
Gloria sighed. “If I get fired, I expect you to make a position for me in the coroner’s office.”
“Deal.”
Zoe thanked her old colleague and headed for the door. She hadn’t quite made it when her phone rang. Not one of her assigned ringtones. Caller ID only showed “Private Caller.”
Expecting a telemarketer, she answered with a brusque, “Hello.”
“Zoe Chambers?” The strong, masculine voice sounded all-business and totally unfamiliar.
“Yes.”
“This is District Attorney Frattini. How soon can you meet me in my office?”
Baronick ambled into the Vance Township station just as Pete was about to head out on patrol. “Got a few minutes?” the detective asked.
Pete nodded toward the chair opposite him, but Baronick detoured to the coffeepot in the corner.
He picked through the mugs, settled on one with the township’s fire department emblem on the side, and filled it. “I’ve had an interesting morning.”
“Did you attend the autopsy?”
Baronick paused. “Franklin’s? No. I thought about it.”
Which was as far as Pete had gotten too. They were both cowards. Zoe, on the other hand, had to face the procedure, like it or not.
“I met with Dustin Landis and his illustrious attorney though.” Baronick moved to the chair and took a seat.
“And? What did your fresh eyes tell you?”
“I can see why you believed him at first. He’s damned convincing.”
“That he is.”
“Did you learn anything from the FBI agent?”
“She confirmed what we already knew. Elizabeth Landis was likely not one of the DLK’s victims.”
Baronick frowned. “DLK?”
“Deserted Lot Killer.”
“Okay,” the detective said, dragging out the word. “And how did the agent reach that conclusion?”
“The lot wasn’t deserted.”
“Either DKL got sloppy or he had nothing to do with it.”
“DLK,” Pete corrected.
Baronick met Pete’s gaze. “What about a copycat? Could Dustin Landis have tried to make it look like this KDL guy did it to throw suspicion off himself? After all, he’s been screaming this theory of a stranger being the killer since day one.”
Pete wasn’t going to correct Baronick yet again when he knew the detective was deliberately mixing up the acronym. “How would Landis have known about him? He wasn’t on the FBI’s radar until well after Landis was convicted and sentenced.”
Baronick leaned back and searched for the answer in his coffee mug. After several long moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “I also met with Frattini this morning.”
“And?”
“Franklin Marshall’s death throws something of a legal monkey wrench into Landis’ new trial. The forensic pathologist who autopsied Elizabeth died years ago. With Franklin gone, there’s no one left in the coroner’s office who was directly involved in the case.”
Pete had been so wrapped up in the personal side of Marshall’s death, he hadn’t thought about the legal ramifications. “Imperatore will demand the autopsy results be thrown out.”
“And Frattini will fight to keep them in.”
“He has to be pissed.”
“Not really.” Baronick sipped his coffee. “He told me Franklin had been a wild card on the stand the first time. Frattini feels confident he can keep the autopsy included as evidence. Guess who will be testifying in Franklin’s place.”
Pete didn’t have to give it much thought. “Zoe.”
“Give the man a cigar. Your fiancée is about to be embroiled in a legal battle. Frattini was getting ready to call her as I was leaving.”
“She’ll do great.”
“No argument from me.”
For once.
“Which brings us back to our part of the Landis investigation.” Baronick set his mug on the desk. “I’m going to start questioning the witnesses.”
“I’ll text you Cheryl Vranjes’ current address.”
“Already have it. I want to talk to you about the other witnesses.”
“No one else saw the shooter.”
“I don’t mean eyewitnesses.”
Pete knew immediately what the detective was referring to.
“I mean the witnesses for the prosecution. The ones who essentially turned the jury against Landis.”
And who had likewise swayed Pete’s opinion of Landis’ innocence the moment he’d learned about them.
“Elizabeth’s husband was a bad boy,” Baronick said. “Tell me about his girlfriends.”
Fourteen
Nine years earlier
Dustin Landis was the epitome of the grief-stricken husband during the preliminary investigation. He opened his home to Pete and the county detectives to search without demanding a warrant, insisting he had nothing to hide.
“Do whatever you need to convince yourselves I’m innocent so you can put your full attention on finding the real killer.”
With nothing incriminating found in the Landis house or on the property, Pete shifted his focus to Elizabeth’s coworkers. Armed with the Rolodex cards Dustin gave him, Pete questioned each of the women in the real estate agent’s office. The first three clutched tissues and wept as they told of Elizabeth’s fairytale romance with her husband. Dustin adored his wife and she adored him in return.
“Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted Elizabeth dead?” Pete asked the first woman.
“Have you talked to Rebecca yet?” she whispered.
He scanned the names from the cards. There was no Rebecca. “No. What’s her last name?”
“Weaver.” Her voice softened more. “She’s our boss. She and Elizabeth butted heads. A lot.”
The next two women confirmed Elizabeth and Rebecca had issues but weren’t willing to add their boss to a list of suspects.
Pete had to wait until the following day to catch Ms. Weaver in her office. She stood to greet him with a smile and a manicured hand. After offering him a seat and closing the door, she chose to sit in one of the other guest chairs rather than placing her desk between them. She turned the chair to face him and folded the manicured hands in her lap.
“I suppose you’ve heard I’m something of a hard ass,” she said with a sad smile.
“I’ve heard you and Elizabeth may have had some disagreements.”
Rebecca lowered her gaze. “That’s true. We did. Professional disagreements. Elizabeth was my best agent. She made a lot of money for this office.”
“What were the disagreements about?”
Rebecca crossed her long shapely legs. “Tell me, Chief Adams, do you ever have arguments with the people you work with about how to best accomplish a goal?”
“Is that what you argued over? Accomplishing goals?”
“Yes. We were competitive. We work in the same office. We both want to have the best sales numbers in any given period. But it wa
s a friendly competition. Heated on occasion. But I respected and liked Elizabeth. We’d battle it out all day long and then buy each other drinks after hours.”
“I was told you were the boss.”
“I got the promotion to manager.”
“You won the biggest competition.”
“Yes.” Rebecca leaned toward him. “And Elizabeth bought me a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”
“Sounds like you were friends rather than enemies.”
“That would be accurate.” Rebecca relaxed back into the chair. “People see two strong women going toe-to-toe in the business world and they automatically call it a cat fight. I respected Elizabeth. And liked her. I hope she’d have said the same of me.”
“Do you know her husband?”
Rebecca’s expression darkened. “I do.”
“I get the impression you don’t like him as well as you liked Elizabeth.”
“Very astute, Chief Adams.”
“Why?”
Rebecca locked gazes with Pete. “He didn’t deserve her.”
“How so?”
Her eyes burned into Pete’s, challenging him to look away.
He didn’t.
“Dustin Landis is a lying, cheating bastard.”
The accusation shouldn’t have stunned Pete but did. “He cheated on his wife?”
“Frequently.”
“And Elizabeth knew?”
Rebecca finally broke eye contact to look down at her hands. “I think she knew for a long time but only recently admitted it to herself.”
Pete sensed the woman had much to say. Rather than prompt her, he remained silent, waiting.
“One of Elizabeth’s clients came to her about two months ago. She’d been visiting a friend at the friend’s apartment when she spotted Dustin and a woman acting very friendly.” Rebecca made air quotes around “friendly.” “They went inside the woman’s apartment. Our client’s friend told her Dustin was a frequent visitor. Elizabeth didn’t want to believe it at first but finally confronted him. Naturally, he denied it. At first. But the client had given Elizabeth the address, and when she threw it at Dustin, he confessed.”
Pete gazed across the room, gut punched. He’d trusted Landis. Bought his portrayal of the grief-stricken husband. Believed every lying word out of his mouth.
“Elizabeth ordered him out of their home, but he cried and begged. Promised it would never happen again. He promised to get counseling. And he did. Elizabeth was convinced he’d ended it with the woman. But in recent weeks, Elizabeth had grown suspicious. Upset. She intended to confront him.” Rebecca again caught Pete’s gaze with her intense, dark eyes. “Whether she had the chance or not, we’ll never know.”
“Do you know the name of the woman Landis was having the affair with?”
“No.”
“How about the client who spotted them together?”
Rebecca fired off a name before picking up the phone and ordering her receptionist to pull the woman’s contact information.
After she hung up, Pete climbed to his feet and thanked her for her help.
“I’m sure if you ask around, you’ll learn she wasn’t his first or only girlfriend over the years.”
“Elizabeth learned of others?”
“No. At least I don’t believe so. But there were others.”
“How do you know?”
Rebecca lowered her face for a moment before bringing her eyes back to his. “Because three years ago, I was one of them.”
Rebecca Weaver’s revelations left Pete feeling betrayed not only by Dustin Landis but by his own gut. Pete had thought he was a better judge of character than that.
His entire thought process shifted. Instead of seeing Landis as the heartbroken widower, Pete now assigned him the role of prime suspect with a whopper of a motive. Avoid a messy and costly divorce while clearing the way to a life with his mistress.
Tall, statuesque Rebecca also landed on Pete’s list of suspects. Dressed in black and running away from the scene, she could’ve been mistaken for a man. Then he confirmed her alibi. She’d been in Pittsburgh at a play with a group of friends the night of the shooting. The same friends backed up Rebecca’s claim that the affair had been brief, meaningless, and had ended long ago.
The client Rebecca had mentioned didn’t have a name for the woman she’d seen clinging to and kissing Landis but gave Pete the number of the apartment they’d entered.
No one answered his knock at the door. He waited and knocked again.
“She’s not home.”
Pete turned to find an older lanky man in a navy-blue work shirt and pants. The name on the embroidered patch stuck to the shirt identified him as Dave.
“I manage these apartments,” he said after shaking Pete’s hand. “The girl who lives here is in Chicago. Some sort of schooling for her job.”
Pete opened his notebook. “Can you give me her name?”
“Jenna Haggerty. Nice kid.” Dave eyed Pete. “She in some sort of trouble?”
“I don’t believe so. I need to ask her some questions.”
“This about that woman who was killed in the parking lot last week?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. What do you know about it?”
“Just what I heard on the news. I seen that woman’s husband’s picture on the TV. I seen him here too.”
“When?”
“Oh, it’s been a while now. But he used to hang out with Jenna a lot. I think the poor kid was crazy in love with him. Then they had a big fight, and he hasn’t been around since.”
“How long ago was that?”
Dave thought about it. “A month. Maybe two.”
“Do you know what the fight was about?”
“Nope. You’d have to ask her.”
“How long has she been out of town?”
“Not quite three weeks. Left on April nineteenth. Asked me to water her plants.”
“Do you have a phone number where I could reach her?”
“Sorry.”
Pete wasn’t sure he believed the man but handed him a business card. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give her that and ask her to contact me when she gets home.”
“Chief. Come in.” Dustin Landis appeared surprised to see him when Pete rang his doorbell. “Have you found Elizabeth’s killer?”
“I need to ask you a few more questions.”
Landis seemed cautious, apparently detecting the chill in Pete’s voice. “Okay.”
Pete watched his expression. “I spoke with Rebecca Weaver.”
Landis’ left eye twitched. “Oh.”
“I also spoke to the manager at Jenna Haggerty’s apartment.”
Any attempt to appear innocent fractured. Stiff-legged, he staggered to an ottoman and sank onto it.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Pete battled to contain his anger.
Landis couldn’t bring himself to look Pete in the eye. After a couple of stuttering, failed attempts to speak, the widower drank in a deep breath. The exhalation reminded Pete of a death rattle.
“I admit it. I’ve not been a faithful husband. But those relationships were in the past. Rebecca was ancient history…and wasn’t much more than a one-night stand.”
“And the Haggerty woman?”
“She was a mistake. I broke it off six weeks ago.”
“Because your wife found out about it?”
Pete took Landis’ silence as confirmation.
“Did your wife know about the others? There have been others, right?”
This brought Landis’ eyes up. “No.” He winced. “I mean, no, Elizabeth never knew.” Reluctantly, he added, “And yes, there have been others.”
“You’re certain she didn’t know?”
“Positive. She never suspected a thing un
til someone she knew spotted me at my girlfriend’s apartment. Elizabeth called me out on it. Told me to choose between the two of them.” He fixed Pete with an earnest gaze. “Chief, I honestly loved my wife. It was an easy choice. I broke things off that same night. Elizabeth and I went into couples therapy. We were working it out.”
“What about the girlfriend? How did she take it?”
Landis’ eyes widened. Pete had just tossed him a lifeline, and he latched onto it. “Not well. Do you think she did it?”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.” Landis’ eyes shifted to different spots around the room, although Pete suspected he wasn’t checking out the candlesticks on the shelf or the flower arrangement on the coffee table.
Fifteen
Present day
Zoe had visited the county courthouse many times over the years, but this was her first summons to the District Attorney’s office. She wasn’t sure what to expect.
A secretary directed her through an oversized door where DA Frattini met her with an extended hand. “Ms. Chambers, it’s a pleasure to meet you, although I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.” He gestured toward a pair of overstuffed, fake-leather chairs facing an impressive desk. “Please. Have a seat.”
Nervous, she made a quick survey of the room. Metal shelves filled with fat law tomes. Stacks of files and papers covered every available horizontal space. The clutter of a busy man. Only the surface of the desk remained neat and tidy.
Frattini didn’t circle to his own chair. Instead, he propped a hip on the edge of the desk and folded his arms. “It looks like you’re now the county coroner.”
“Acting county coroner,” she corrected.
He dismissed the adjective with a shake of his head. “For my purposes, you’re ‘it.’”
Zoe shifted in the chair, even more uncomfortable now. “What purposes are you talking about?”
“Giving testimony at trial.” His dark eyes bore into her. “Specifically, the Landis trial.”
She’d known this was coming but had managed to stuff the thought of sitting in a witness stand into the far recesses of her mind.
Frattini must have seen her trepidation and gave her what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. “You’ll do fine. I’ll make sure you’re well prepared.”
TIL DEATH Page 10