Murder by Design

by J. P. Bowie

  “They can’t hold you on the word of a woman who wasn’t even there. What’s her story, anyway?”

  Justin shrugged. “She’s been Maria’s secretary for years, I guess. She’s always been sweet to me, never called me out when I criticized Maria for being a terrible employer.”

  “Is she married?”

  “Was, but divorced some years back. That’s about all I know. I mean, we were friendly, but we rarely socialized.”

  “Did she get along with Maria?”

  “Yeah…kind of. They had disagreements but usually about work, scheduling, employee complaints, that kind of thing.”

  “Okay, I’m gonna get you out of here. Give me a few minutes.” He kissed Justin lightly on the mouth. “Be right back.”

  He joined Hoskins, Jones and Harrison outside the room. “So, you gonna charge him or what?”

  “Someone put you on the case, Walker?” Jones asked with his usual sneer.

  “Nope, just askin’.”

  “And it’s a fair question, Detective,” Hoskins said. “Do you have enough to hold him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe doesn’t cut it, Jones,” Sam snapped. “You have a statement from a woman which could be biased, who perhaps was in an emotional state having just been put out of a job owing to the demise of her boss, and who might want to blame someone, anyone, for such a dilemma. Did you question her motivation, perhaps?”

  “What?” Jones stared at him.

  “No,” Harrison said. “And Sam’s right. No other employee mentioned fights between the vic and Robertson.”

  Hoskins grunted. “Okay, that’s it. Send him home. You can bring him back in if you get something more solid, but be careful. We don’t want another lawsuit for harassment.”

  “Well, fuck,” Jones muttered and stormed off.

  Hoskins glared after him and Sam said, “He needs to put his prejudices aside when he’s working a case. What about the guy Justin says he saw hot-footing it toward the emergency exit?”

  “Nothing on the CCTV,” Harrison said. “Not surprising. There are no cameras on that stairwell.”

  “So go unruffle Jones’ feathers,” Hoskins said, “and take another look at this. Maybe try taking Robertson out of the equation, see what or who is left.”

  Harrison nodded. “Okay, Captain. See ya, Sam.”

  “Later, Bob.”

  “Go get your friend outta here.” Hoskins chuckled. “And try not to rise to Jones’ ignorance. You’re a good cop, Sam, and I don’t want to have to suspend you for punching a fellow officer on the nose.”

  Sam grinned. “But you have to admit the temptation is hard to ignore.”

  “That it is.”

  * * * *

  Sam put his arm around Justin’s shoulders as they walked out of the precinct onto Broadway. “So, coffee, or d’you need something stronger?”

  “It’s a bit early for anything ‘stronger’, but coffee sounds good, and a sandwich maybe. I’m starving.”

  “Can’t have that. There’s a diner on the corner that actually has decent coffee.” He squeezed Justin’s shoulder and asked, “How d’you feel?”

  “Better when I’m with you. It was just hard dealing with the shock of having two cops standing outside my door telling me I had to go with them to the precinct for more questioning. That Detective Jones made me feel really uncomfortable. He kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye like guys do when they think you can’t see them. Creepy dude. I think he’s a closet case.”

  “Oh yeah?” Sam chuckled. “He’s been acting like a total homophobe ever since he realized you and I are together.”

  “Lots of closet cases do that. Kind of a self-defense thing.” He grinned up at Sam. “Maybe he’s harboring a secret crush on you.”

  “More likely to be you. You’re young and cute.”

  They’d reached the diner. Fortunately, there was no wait for a table, the morning rush having long dissipated. They took a booth near the window and ordered coffee from the hovering waitress dressed in an outfit meant to represent the fifties. Her name tag said she was Rosie.

  “Comin’ right up!”

  “So, tell me more about this Paula Downs,” Sam said, putting his menu to one side.

  Justin looked sad as he replied, “I thought she liked me. We’ve always gotten along, but when I think about it, I don’t know her really. I mean, she’s there taking care of things, always pleasant to me, kinda sympathetic whenever Maria got on my case, which had been a lot recently.”

  “Why d’you suppose that was?”

  Justin shrugged. “Darned if I know. Paula said she was having marital problems, but a good employer would keep that out of the workplace. She was a very volatile woman, though.”

  “You ever meet the husband?”

  Justin sat back as their coffees were delivered.

  “Anything to eat, cuties?” Rosie asked

  “I’ll have the fried egg sandwich on toasted sourdough, please,” Justin told her.

  Sam smiled at her. “I’ll have the same, and thanks for the ‘cuties’ remark.”

  “Oh, you two are a sight for sore eyes,” she cooed, “after some of the grumps we’ve had this morning.” With that, she waltzed off.

  Sam chuckled. “I told you, you’re cute.”

  “You are, too. Big and cute.” Justin leered at him across the table.

  “Don’t start that,” Sam said, mock-serious. “You didn’t answer about the husband.”

  “Oh right. No, never met him. I don’t think he ever came to see Maria, even.”

  “So, even if you got a good look at the man leaving her office, if it had been the husband, you wouldn’t have recognized him.”

  Justin’s eyes grew wide. “You think it might have been him?”

  “Why not? He has motive. He’s at odds with his wife. Maybe she wouldn’t give him a divorce and he wants out, free to marry someone else.”

  “So he kills her? Wow, that sounds like a movie plot.”

  “A bad movie plot,” Sam said with a wry twist to his lips. “Only thing is, that exact scenario has been played out a thousand times. Murder can often be caused by an overdose of passion or rage. Sometimes the murderer hasn’t set out to kill, but gets goaded into it…”

  Justin’s eyes lit up. “Or, if he wants rid of her but is too chicken to do it himself, he hires someone to do it.”

  “Could be.”

  “Here y’are, cuties.” Rose placed the sandwiches in front of them with a flourish. “Coffee refills?”

  “Please,” Justin said and Rosie was back in a moment brandishing the coffee pot.

  “Thanks.” Sam gave her another smile and she simpered before waltzing off again. He picked up his cell after she left. “Hey, Bob, you guys ever get a hold of the husband? Oh, yeah? Okay, I see…right. Yeah, thanks.” He shut off his phone. “Hmm…”

  Just stared at him with surprise. “I thought the creepy detective said you couldn’t help in the case.”

  “That’s why I called the non-creepy detective. Bob’s not an idiot like Jones. He wants to solve the case, not grandstand about it. So anyway, hubby’s out of town on business, according to his secretary.”

  “Which gives him an alibi, right?”

  Sam nodded. “If he’s outta town. Guess Al and Bob will find out soon enough.” He took a bite of his sandwich and moaned his appreciation as the hot yolk spilled onto his tongue. “Mmm, I do like the simple things of life.”

  “That why you like me?” Justin asked through a mouthful of egg sandwich.

  “No, I love you, not just like, and stop looking at me like that. You know what happens when you do that. Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “I don’t have a job, remember?”

  “Oh, right.”

  Justin chortled. “Goofball.”

  “Hey, Martin, now you, calling me names. Which reminds me, I have to go visit him. Want to come with? They moved him out of ICU this morning, so he’ll be in a
regular room. Want to?”

  Justin nodded. “I’d like that. Then after if you’d drop me off at my apartment I’ll get busy online looking for a job. At this point I’ll take anything to tide me over until I can get something in the design industry.”

  * * * *

  After checking at the nurses’ station, Sam was informed that Detective McCready was in room four sixty-three. They took the elevator to the fourth floor and Sam tried to remember if he’d told Justin that Martin was black.

  Not that it’d make any difference to him, surely… Then again, these days it’s become such an issue again, but only among shit-heads, right? Oh well, too late now…

  He knocked on the door and peeked in. “Are y’all decent?”

  He was greeted with giggles from the kids and “Come on in, Sam,” from Liz. He braced himself for the onslaught of Abe and Sara that never came. Both kids stopped in their tracks, staring at the stranger behind Sam. Sara pointed at him. “Who?”

  “This is Justin,” Sam told her. “You told me to bring him.”

  She nodded. “I’m Sara.”

  “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” Justin said. “Can I hold you?”

  Sara nodded again, this time like a little bobblehead, and Justin laughed and picked her up. “Hi, beautiful Sara.”

  “So this is the guy makes you all goofy?” Martin grinned. “Not bad, Sam, not bad. You’re finally showing some taste.”

  “Justin…” Sam took his free hand. “This big mouth is Martin, my partner, the other beautiful lady is Liz, his wife, and this trying to climb up my leg is the shy guy, Abe.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Justin said. “How are you feeling, Martin?”

  Well, guess I didn’t have to worry about a thing. Should have known he’d be just fine…

  “Getting better every day.” Martin beamed at Liz. “Thanks to the ministrations of my dear wife.”

  “That’s sweet,” Justin said.

  Liz laughed. “That’s bunk. He is forever ringing that buzzer complaining ’bout somethin’ and driving the poor nurses nuts. Come sit over here with me, Justin, and tell me all about yourself. Sam can talk to Martin.”

  Sam rolled his eyes then winced when Abe’s head collided with his crotch. “Ow. Okay, little fella…” He bent to take him in his arms. “You can sit with me and Daddy while I fill him in on all the goings on in policedom. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Abe snuggled against Sam’s chest as he sat on the bedside chair.

  “How are you, my buddy?”

  “Be better when I can get outta here, but the doc said another two weeks at least, darn it.”

  “They’re giving me Mackie for a partner while you’re out now that Sanders resigned.”

  “Long as it’s temporary. I get you back, even though you are a pain in the a”—he glanced at the top of his son’s head—“you know what.”

  “Think he’s asleep.”

  “Oh, okay. So what else is new?”

  Sam tipped his head over to where Liz and Justin sat, obviously getting along like a house on fire. “Justin’s boss was strangled in her office yesterday. He found her, which of course shook him up some. He called me instead of 9-1-1, but I took care of it on my way over to his workplace. For some reason the boss’s secretary, Paula Downs, threw Justin under the bus, saying he and Maria Esteban—that’s his boss—had a big fight where he threatened her. Not true. She fired him, true, but Downs says he phoned begging for his job back, not true. She begged him to come back then wanted to fire him again. The woman wanted to steal Justin’s designs and he wasn’t about to let her.”

  Martin was quiet for a moment or two. Then he asked, “Any other suspects?”

  “I’m interested in the husband. They were having problems and Justin heard an almighty row in her office the night he was working overtime. He saw a man leave her office in a hurry but only from the back. He’s never met Mr. Esteban so he wouldn’t have recognized him anyway.”

  “Hmm. Alibi?”

  “Bob Harrison says he’s out of town, according to his secretary.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Right. I’m not permitted to be on the case and I know for sure Jones won’t give me the time of day, but I might just do some snooping on my own time. I want to know why the Downs woman was so quick to try and implicate Justin.”

  * * * *

  After he dropped Justin off at his apartment with a promise to stop by later, Sam headed for the precinct. He figured by this time, Jones and Harrison would have called it a day and gone off shift, and there was some information he needed from his computer. Hoskins was gone and Thomason was at his desk. He asked after Martin and the three or four detectives on duty also wanted to know how his partner was getting along, so there was a few minutes delay before Sam could get the information he wanted.

  There were several Estebans with records listed in the database, but the two of most interest to him were Enrique and Maria Esteban. Place of birth—San Juan, Puerto Rico. Co-owners of Esteban Fashions—bingo! Maria was co-owner and operator, Enrique co-owner but also CEO of Golden Finance.

  In 1997 they’d been found guilty of subjecting employees to near third-world working conditions. Inspectors called in by OSHA described the workshops as stinking sweatshops and had them closed down. The Estebans were fined one hundred and fifty thousand dollars and their license to operate a similar business suspended for five years.

  Not exactly upstanding citizens.

  Their home address currently listed was 8976 Briar Terrace, Beverly Hills. The photographs of the couple showed Maria, despite her sullen expression, to be fairly attractive, but the husband was stunning, with movie-star appeal. He had thick dark hair and sultry eyes and according to the stats he was six foot two.

  So…tall and dark-haired…

  Paula Downs had no record, but he found her on a Google search. She was a divorcee, thirty-eight years old, a native New Yorker at present living in Pasadena on El Molino Street. No available photograph.

  Sam wanted to talk to Paula Downs. He wanted to know why she would morph from being ‘sweet’ to Justin to someone who implied he and Maria may have been at odds prior to her murder. Was she hoping the police investigation would swing toward Justin as a likely suspect? Did she know more than she’d let on?

  One way to find out. Pasadena was about twenty minutes from downtown. He was going to hit rush-hour traffic but with luck he could make it there and back without too much trouble.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Justin sighed and pushed his chair back from his desk. He had spent the last two hours sending out his résumé to every fashion house in LA. He wondered if he’d have a better shot in New York, but he so didn’t want to relocate, not when he and Sam were getting along so well. The future had looked so bright a couple of days ago, especially when Sam had said the words I love you. It had been like a dream come true and even Maria’s death hadn’t diminished the surge of happiness he’d felt at that moment.

  He just wished they’d hurry up and find the killer. He didn’t like the fact that one of the cops had eyed him as if it were him. And Paula… Jeez, he never would have believed she’d try to implicate him, even going so far as to say he’d threatened Maria. She knew that wasn’t true, so why say it?

  His cell ringing jerked him from his blue thoughts. Jen… With a guilty start he realized he should have called her to let her know what had been going on. Chances were that the news of the murder of some small fashion house’s owner might not make it to Kansas TV, but still she’d be upset for him.

  “Hi, Jen, sorry I haven’t called you since I got back. How are you?”

  “Fine. How’re things with you?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Try not to sound so enthusiastic.” She chuckled. “Oh, are things not going well with whatsisname?”

  “Sam…and things are going very well, thank you. But I’m afraid my boss was murdered a couple of days ago and the police have
been in my face ever since.”

  “Murdered? Oh my God, Justin, that’s awful. Why are the police questioning you? Isn’t Sam helping?”

  “Oh yeah, but because of our relationship he can’t be on the case. Thing is, Jen, I was there when it happened.”

  “What? Oh, Justin, that’s terrible.”

  “Yeah, it was. She was strangled, Jen, and I think I saw the murderer—at least, I saw a man leave her office, but the cops seemed leery of that part of my statement.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there was no sign of him on the CCTV recordings. There aren’t cameras on the backstairs but at the main entrance there are and my description of him doesn’t match anyone coming in.”

  “Oh, you poor guy. What an awful thing to happen. And you’re out of a job?”

  “Yeah. The floor we worked on is cordoned off, you know, with yellow tape. Thank God I got my laptop with me, but Esteban Fashions is closed down. I don’t imagine the husband will want to keep it going, and as for Paula, well, I’d never want to work with or even see her again!”

  “Oh, I thought you guys were buds.”

  “Not really. I mean we got along okay, but she implied to the cops that Maria and I had some kind of fight just before she was murdered.”

  “What?” Jen gasped. “That bitch. How could she?”

  “I don’t know what’s behind it, but it made Sam curious, so he’s checking her out.”

  “Oh, Justin. D’you want me to come stay with you until it’s over?”

  Justin smiled. It was so typical of her to believe in his innocence and to want to help. “Love you, Jen, but it’ll be okay. I’d rather you, Kevin and Simon came down after this is all cleared up.”

  “We’ll do that. Simon hasn’t been to Disneyland yet. He’d love to go with his Uncle Justin.”

  * * * *

  Sam cruised along El Molino Street in Pasadena checking for Paula Downs’ address. It was a long street, stretching several blocks, lined on both sides with a mix of original family dwellings, old apartment buildings and brand-new condominiums. A lot of the older buildings had been demolished to make way for the new and the effect wasn’t unpleasant. Trouble was, parking existed only on one side of the street and it was impossible to find even one space. After circling the block a couple of times, he parked in a supermarket lot and walked the two blocks back to the Downs’ address.