by S F Bose
Rose looked at Sam and frowned. “All right, I’ll go talk to him tomorrow.”
“That’s great,” I said and smiled.
“It will be a waste of time,” she repeated.
“You might be surprised. Rose, can we also get a copy of the recordings you made?” I asked.
“I’ll make another copy tonight. I can drop it off tomorrow around 3:00 p.m.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?” asked Sam. He was still frowning. Rose gave him a dark look.
“Not a thing,” she replied. “You think I killed Meagher, don’t you?”
“Did you?” Sam pressed.
Rose O’Ryan stood and gave Sam a long look. “The few reports I’ve seen said someone bludgeoned Meagher to death. Is that true?”
“It is,” he admitted and stood.
Rose smiled. “Mr. Nolan, I’m armed with a Glock 25, I’m licensed for concealed carry, and I’m a crack shot. If I wanted to murder Meagher, I would have used a throw away gun and fired a kill shot into him. I wouldn’t have bludgeoned him to death. So the answer to your question is no, I didn’t kill Meagher. But I can’t say I’m sorry he’s gone.”
I turned the voice recorder off and stood. As I walked Rose out to the front door, I gave her one of my business cards.
“My work number is on the front and my cell phone number is on the back.”
Rose nodded, took the card, and slid it into her jacket pocket.
“Thanks for coming in,” I said at the front door. She paused and turned back to me.
Her voice was low. “Your partner seems to think I killed Meagher. I want you to know that I did not.”
“I understand,” I replied.
“Do you believe me?” she asked.
“I do,” I said and she nodded. Rose O’Ryan turned and left the office.
“What do you think? Her main alibi is her husband.” I turned and found Sam had followed us out of the conference room. Neville sat at the reception desk watching me too.
“I admit she doesn’t have the best alibi, but I don’t think she’s our murderer, Sam. She’s 5’4” tall, if that. Remember the coroner said Meagher was standing when someone hit him on the head. The coroner also estimated the height of the assailant as between 6' and 6'2". Meagher was a big guy. If Rose wanted to kill him, like she said, a handgun would have been more efficient.”
Sam pursed his lips. “Those are good points. There’s just something off about her.”
“What?” I asked.
Sam shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. It’s a gut feeling.”
I nodded. We both respected gut feelings because they often turned out to be correct.
After I transferred the interview audio file to the server and handed it off to Neville, I returned to my office. I called Trixie’s Beauty Parlor, but Trixie had left early. I didn’t want to confirm Rose O’Ryan’s appointment with anyone else, so I said I’d call back the next day.
I sat at my desk thinking about the interview with Rose O’Ryan. Like Sam, it bothered me that she hadn’t called the police when she heard about Meagher’s death. If her husband was believable and her appointment at Trixie’s checked out, she wouldn’t have been a suspect for long.
I shook it off and decided to leave work a little early. When I ducked my head into Sam’s office, he was on the phone. I waved and pointed to the front door. He covered the phone and said, “See you tomorrow.” Neville had already left.
On the drive home, my thoughts drifted to the one fact that eliminated Rose O’Ryan as the killer. Based on the coroner’s information, she was definitely too short to have bludgeoned Meagher. Then an electric tingle warmed my neck. Maybe Rose didn’t commit the murder herself. But what if she had a tall accomplice who did the dirty work?
Chapter 20
When I arrived at the office the next morning, Neville was already working on the Rose O’Ryan audio file. I greeted him, hurried to my office, and called Trixie’s Beauty Parlor. Trixie answered the phone on the second ring.
“Hi Trixie. It’s Liz Bean.”
“Time for a cut and color?” she asked. Trixie was the only person I trusted to maintain my short, silver-white pixie cut.
“Not yet, Trixie. My hair still looks great, thanks to you,” I replied. I explained I was working a case and needed some information about Rose O’Ryan. I also asked her to keep the request confidential and she agreed. Within minutes, Trixie confirmed that Rose had checked in a little before 3:30 p.m. on May 6th for a cut and color. Their automated system revealed that Trixie had submitted the bill at 6:08 p.m. I jotted down some notes, thanked Trixie, and hung up.
I detoured to the kitchenette and made a cup of coffee. Then I went to Sam’s office and told him I had confirmed part of Rose’s alibi. When I read off the timing of Rose O’Ryan’s visit to Trixie’s Beauty Parlor, he grunted.
“There’s still something about her story that bothers me,” he replied. I sat on one of the guest chairs and leaned down to pet Flip, who sprawled in front of Sam’s desk. The dog’s tail thumped on the floor.
Straightening up, I said, “Parts of her story bother me too. I was thinking about how she didn’t meet the height range the coroner had specified for the killer. When I was driving home last night, it occurred to me that Rose could have had an accomplice who was between 6' and 6'2” tall. Maybe they both met at Meagher’s cabin and the accomplice killed him.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he groaned. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he asked quietly. “The husband maybe?”
“Could be. Unfortunately, we don’t have a shred of evidence.”
Sam looked beyond me and smiled. I turned in my chair and saw Newmont standing in the doorway. Flip jumped up and greeted our visitor.
“Hi Newmont,” I said.
“Howdy Liz,” Newmont replied, bending down to pet Flip. Then he stood. “Do you both have a few minutes to chat?”
“Sure thing. Grab a chair,” Sam replied.
Newmont walked over to the other guest chair and sat down. He wore the winter police uniform of long-sleeved tan shirt, black tie, dark tan pants, and olive green jacket. He removed his tan Stetson hat and perched it on one knee. Flip stretched out on the floor near him.
Newmont pulled out his notebook and pen. “I had some news to share. I spoke to Dwight Reed. After listening to his story, I confirmed his alibi again. I assured the fire captain that Dwight wasn’t in any trouble and in fact was helping us with a case.”
“The captain doesn’t know about the traffic stop, does he?” I asked, opening my notebook.
“No, I saw no need to go into that,” Newmont replied. “Reed has a solid alibi.”
“I’m sure he was relieved,” Sam said.
“Yeah, he was. We did have a chat about drinking and driving,” Newmont replied drily. He consulted his notes. “Okay Detective Swanson got warrants for the storage facilities. They used the keys you found to access lockers at each business. Each locker contained a backpack of money. There was approximately fifty thousand dollars in each backpack.”
Sam whistled. “Money he could use if he bugged out?”
“Could be,” Newmont agreed. “Or money he was planning to launder through S.M. Trading or bitcoin.”
“You think all that money is from his gambling and blackmailing activities?” Sam asked.
“Seems likely, but I don’t know for sure. For all we know, he was engaged in other illegal activities too,” Newmont replied.
“Meagher was a real piece of work,” I said, shaking my head.
“He sure was,” Newmont agreed. “The other development is that first thing yesterday I finally talked to Tina Malden, Larissa’s alibi. She returned from her retreat and then had some family issues. But she finally came down to the station.
“Did the alibi check out?” I asked.
“It did. She and Larissa were together in Chicago the day of the murder. Tina said they shopped a lot and went to lunch. Then they went t
o one of those spa places for massages and stuff. They each charged their spa services on their credit cards. Tina had dated receipts that she gave me. She also took about one hundred time-stamped photos of them throughout the trip. Finally, she filmed a video of them that she posted on social media.”
“So Larissa was telling the truth,” Sam said. I detected disappointment in his voice.
Newmont smiled. “Up to a point. I asked Tina if the day trip was a celebration of some sort. She said it was just a fun trip that they’d talked about for at least a month. When they arrived at the spa, Larissa mentioned she wanted a...” Newmont paused to look at his notes. “… mani pedi so she’d look nice for Dom.”
After a second’s pause, Matt and I chorused, “Dom?”
Newmont smiled. “Dom. As soon as she mentioned his name, Tina froze. I asked if that was Dom Fontana and she hesitated. I reminded her that it was a murder investigation and she didn’t want to lie to the police. At that point, she admitted Larissa meant Dom Fontana. Tina said Larissa had been seeing Dom on the side for a while. She referred to him as her boyfriend.”
“When I asked Tina about the relationship between Larissa and Meagher, she thought they should have divorced years ago. Larissa wanted children and he didn't. She liked going out to dinner and dancing. He didn't. They didn't seem to have much in common. Tina thought that Larissa and Dom would be much happier together. However, whenever Tina brought up divorce, Larissa said she wouldn’t talk about it.”
“So Tina Malden knows Dom Fontana?” I asked.
“She does. She and her husband have met Dom Fontana and liked him. They all evidently socialize from time to time”
“It sounds like Larissa Meagher would have been happier with Steven Meagher out of the picture,” Sam said.
“And she lied about Dom,” I added.
“Yeah, I brought her in for a second interview yesterday morning. After some hemming and hawing, Larissa admitted to the affair with Dom Fontana. She said she lied because she was afraid of how the affair would make her look. When I asked why she hadn’t filed for a divorce, she said she was conflicted. While she loved Dom, Larissa said she always had feelings for her husband. For the time being, she wanted things to stay as they were.”
“Weird,” I commented and Sam nodded.
“So in the afternoon I drove to Madison and spoke to Dom Fontana again. He also admitted to the affair and apologized for lying. He hadn’t wanted Larissa to be painted in a bad light.”
“Did you believe him?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. It was like my first interview with him. He seemed prepared for all of my questions and didn’t show any surprise when I asked him about the affair. I think Larissa alerted him again. He could have been telling the truth or he could be a skilled liar.”
“How tall is Fontana?” Sam asked.
“He’s my height. 6’1”,” Newmont replied.
“That’s within the range for the killer, according to the coroner,” I said.
“It is,” Newmont agreed. “After I interviewed Fontana, I went to talk to Moose Crotty again to make sure Fontana’s alibi was legitimate. I told Crotty that I was investigating a murder case and I wanted to confirm Dom Fontana’s alibi again. He said he didn’t know anything about a murder. We ran through the date and the story and everything was the same. He confirmed again that he and Fontana had been together that entire day. So I passed the information about the affair and my chat with Tina, Larissa, Fontana, and Crotty on to Detective Swanson. However, we have no evidence yet that Larissa was doing anything more than cheating. And as of now, Fontana has an alibi.”
We sat for a minute absorbing the new information. Then I said, “We have something to share with you too. We interviewed Rose O’Ryan yesterday. At first, she was just a witness. But then we discovered she was in Meagher’s blackmail book.”
Newmont’s eyebrows shot up. “A trustee? What was he blackmailing her for?”
“Drunk driving, same as Dwight Reed. Rose admitted to us that after leaving the military, she did have a drinking problem. But she usually drank at home. She said she had two glasses of wine with a full dinner the night Meagher stopped her. However, she wasn’t sure what her blood alcohol count would be if he tested her. Meagher also scared her by telling her OWI’s are public record. She definitely didn’t want her family, friends, and work to know she’d been arrested for that,” I said.
“So when he offered her the deal, she took it,” Newmont said.
“She did,” I replied. I shared how Rose had paid him for a while but then changed her mind and stopped paying. I related how she had stopped drinking and confessed to her family, which reduced Meagher’s leverage. When I told him about the recordings, Newmont leaned forward.
“She recorded all of their conversations?” he asked.
“Most of them,” I agreed. “She also has copies of his angry voicemail messages. He kept pressuring her to start paying again.”
“Rose finally agreed to meet Meagher at the Tipsy Cow,” Sam said.
“She was the woman in the blonde wig,” I added.
Newmont’s eyes widened. “Rose O’Ryan disguised herself?”
I nodded. “She didn’t want anyone to see her talking to Meagher. That last day, she told him again that she wouldn’t pay him any more money. She revealed that she’d been recording his calls and threats and was prepared to go to the county sheriff and FBI with all of her evidence. He didn’t realize it, but she was even recording that last conversation.”
“If O’Ryan had recordings and evidence, why didn’t she just turn him in and be done with it?” Newmont asked.
I shrugged. “She didn’t want her situation to become public knowledge. She hoped that when Meagher saw she was serious about not paying him, he’d back off. Problem solved. She didn’t drink anymore and her family was up to speed and supportive. So any threats to contact them were meaningless.”
Newmont nodded. “But it didn’t work.”
I shook my head. “No, it didn’t. He kept harassing her and threatening her and her family. She started thinking about turning her evidence over, but she didn’t know who she could trust.”
Sam looked at Newmont. “Rose also said she might want to run for village president someday. That could be another reason she wanted to keep this quiet.” I nodded in agreement.
“Do you think she could have killed him?” Newmont asked.
“I don’t know. I think she’s capable of it,” I replied. “Rose is ex-military and seems strong. She’s much shorter than the coroner’s height estimate for the killer, but she might have had an accomplice. She did say if she wanted to kill Meagher she would have just shot him. I will say she was very believable when she denied killing him. ”
“Maybe she compartmentalized. If the accomplice killed him, technically she didn’t,” Sam said.
“It’s possible,” I agreed. “Anyway, Rose said she followed Meagher from the Tipsy Cow to Highway 14. At that point, she went home because she was afraid Meagher would see her. Also, she wanted to check on her husband who was home sick. She was at home with him from 1:00 p.m. to 3:15 and at Trixie’s from 3:30 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.”
“So her husband is her only alibi for a little over two hours?” Newmont asked.
“Yes, and those two hours fall within the range for the time of Meagher’s death,” I replied.
Newmont stretched his legs. “Any idea how tall the husband is?”
“No idea,” Sam replied. “We’ve never met him.”
“Again, Rose made a very good point when we interviewed her. She carries a Glock and is licensed for concealed carry. She said if she planned to kill Meagher, she would have shot him with a throw away gun,” I said.
“Where did you leave it with Rose O’Ryan?” Newmont asked.
“We encouraged her to tell you everything. She also agreed to bring us a copy of all the recordings she made. She said she’d be here around 3:00 p.m.,” Sam replied.
“Min
d if I stop by around then?” he asked.
Sam and I shook our heads. “Not at all,” Sam replied.
After Newmont left, I walked over to Neville’s desk and handed him my notes. “Can you read my handwriting?”
He scanned the pages and spoke more to himself as he read. “Dwight Reed… Storage lockers… Wow! That’s a lot of money! Tina Malden said Larissa Meagher and Dom Fontana were lovers and they admitted it. Huh, interesting. Moose Crotty is still an alibi for Dom Fontana. All of that is from our friend, ‘Montana’?” he asked.
“Right, I’m glad you remembered that,” I said and smiled.
Neville scanned the remainder of my notes. “Sure, I can read your notes. I’ll enter them into the case file,” he said.
“You’re the man, Neville,” I replied and he laughed.
Chapter 21
By 3:45 p.m. Sam couldn’t take the waiting anymore and paced back and forth behind his desk. Newmont slouched in a guest chair playing with his cell phone and I dialed Rose O’Ryan’s cell phone number for the third time.
“Voicemail again,” I muttered and hung up. “I’m not leaving her another message.”
“She’s a realtor. She might be tied up with a client,” Sam said, stopping his pacing to look out one of the windows behind his desk. Then he sat in his chair and tossed his Irish flat cap on the desk. He looked tired.
At almost 4:00 p.m., the front door chime sounded and I jumped up. Flip followed me to the reception desk where I found two strangers. A lanky man in a business suit spoke to Neville, who stood behind his desk. The man carried a canvas bag over one shoulder. Another man in a rumpled suit stood a few paces away. He was balding, overweight, and looked unhappy. A quick look told me there was no physical threat. Neither man appeared to have an ounce of muscle.
“Liz Bean, this is Eric O’Ryan,” Neville said, introducing the lanky man. Neville glanced over at the balding man, who showed no sign of joining us.
“Does the dog bite?” O’Ryan asked, eying Flip.