by Kira Reese
I jumped up. “I have something to do right now. We can talk more about it later.”
I did not give Ben time to interrogate me. As soon as I got to my car, I dialed Camden Thomason. He answered his cell immediately and agreed to meet me at the same coffee house I met Victoria. When he walked through the door I was waiting at a corner table away from other patrons. The haggard features of his face were out of character for him. His shoulders slumped. A crooked smile directed at me told me he had a lot on his mind, or conscience.
I got right to the point. “Do you know anyone by the name of Theodore Andersson? He was originally from Copenhagen.”
“I have never heard that name,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“He is the man who was found on the beach at the island of Holbox in Cancun. And he was buried in place of your father-in-law.”
I watched closely. Nothing significant crossed his face.
“We have not heard who the man was. It was devastating that Angelina took him for her father, but the silver chain is what threw her. Plus the fact that, at first glance, he looked like Thornton.”
“That brings me to another observation. How did the chain that belonged to Thornton get onto Theodore Andersson’s neck?”
“We have talked about that a lot,” he said. “That is one of the first questions I plan to ask Thornton as soon as they allow us to see him. His incarceration has caused Angelina to go ballistic. She is extremely upset, and I’m not sure how much more she can take.”
He voiced his feelings about the matter as he told me he couldn’t understand why there was such a hunt on for Thornton. “They could have arrested him at any moment before he took off for Greece. He could easily have paid off the IRS once he knew the taxes hadn’t been paid as he thought.”
“It has been discovered that he was in quite deep with financial obligations to others. His creditors had not been getting their money, either.” I watched him. Again, nothing that spoke of guilt reached me. “Did you know that your father-in-law is being held on a charge of murder?”
When his hand jerked forward, a glass of water spilled across the table. It seeped its way across the shiny wood surface until it stopped at my cake plate that held a Danish pastry. His fingers trembled like a tumbleweed caught by wind against the corner of a structure. He stood quickly, knocking the small table with his knees and rushed from the shop.
My cell rang just as I paid the tab. “Candy, we are looking for Camden Thomason as an accessory to the attempted murder of Theodore Andersson.”
I told Ben where to find him if they hurried before the man escaped. When I got to the precinct, Ben told me Thornton Grey decided not to take all the heat on his own. Thornton, at first, believed he had killed Theodore with the explosion. He had given the man the silver chain and encouraged him to wear it for good luck. He figured if bits and parts of him were found in the waters, the chain could possibly be found on him. He expected everyone to believe Thornton Grey died a horrible death. As luck had it for Thornton, the man was found intact with the chain around his neck.
“Camden Thomason cruised behind the yacht, and Thornton set the timer on the explosive. His son-in-law picked him up without Theodore knowing it a few minutes before the boat ripped apart.” A long sigh ensued. “I wonder what it would be like to sail on a yacht so large that you could get lost on it.”
“If you ever get one, let me know,” I said.
I told the detective about Camden’s reaction when I told him his father-in-law was being charged with murder.
“It’s good you were with him and knew where he was. My officers picked him up a few blocks from where you met at the coffee house. I’m wondering how he managed to be away from home long enough to get to Cancun and back.”
“He probably flew out early morning, rented a boat, played his part and flew back in time for dinner that night,” I said.
When I left the precinct, my thoughts turned to Angelina. I wondered which man she would miss the most: her father or her husband. I doubted it would be her marriage partner as much as the man who gave her life.
She and her daughters would go on in the same luxurious style they were accustomed to, but nothing else would remain the same.
~ END ~
COMMON THREADS
Chapter 1
Shocking News
The day my elderly neighbor caught me when I got out of my car was a day that would take me into the darker side of New York. I dashed home to retrieve a folder mistakenly left on the kitchen table. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and Scotty picked up his newspaper from the curb. He spread it out to read the headlines. While adjusting his round wire glasses, his bent body nearly hid the front page.
“This is hard to believe,” he said as he looked up at me. “Did you see this, Candy?”
Curiosity drew me across the lawn. I peered over his shoulder and picked up a whiff of familiar Old Spice aftershave. Sprawled across the front page, I read the headline: Local Waitress Found Murdered. I asked Scotty if he knew her.
“I did know her and you may, too. It was Janet Dubois,” he said. “She was a pretty little girl, long black hair and always cheerful. She worked at Benny’s.”
I recalled a young woman by that description, but I only knew her from her name tag. Benny’s Café was a well-established diner in the older part of our neighborhood. Nick and I grabbed quick lunches there sometimes on weekends. The woman Scotty spoke of had worked there for as long as we lived in the neighborhood, if not longer.
Scotty and I discussed the murder. Nothing like that had ever happened so close to home for either of us. He handed the paper over to me and I read the entire article silently. There was not much there, just the fact that she was murdered, had worked at Benny’s for six years, and her body was found in an alley in the lower east side of New York, which was nowhere near her workplace.
“I wonder if she lived down there,” I said.
Scotty shook his head. “On a waitress’s salary, that wouldn’t make sense for her to commute this far.”
After a few more comments, I left my neighbor to his thoughts. I had to get back to the office. The information in the folder I held needed to be put into the computer. Natalie had offered to do that for me while I tried to get caught up on a case.
I came in through the back door and headed for Natalie’s office next to mine. Evelyn ended a call and started to speak to the man who sat twirling a worn fishing cap. My receptionist had been a part of our team of three for several months. I hired her when my workload became too much for me. I handed over some of the cases to Natalie Carpenter, my former receptionist. She had been with me from the beginnings of my private investigator business.
The tanned young man with an athletic body glanced up when I came through. His drawn face recessed somewhat and caused me to first notice dark eyes that flooded with concern.
“This is Jonathan Dubois,” said Evelyn, by way of introduction. “He’s here to talk with you about taking on a case close to him. Mr. Dubois, this is Candace McCauley, Private Investigator.”
When Jonathan stood, he loomed over me by at least two inches, which put him about seven or eight inches over five feet. “Everyone calls me Jon,” he said as he extended a hand that resulted in a firm shake of mine.
I invited him into my office and closed the door. He declined my offer of a beverage and I invited him to sit down. Even from the chair across my desk he appeared to hang over me. As soon as Evelyn mentioned his last name, I wanted to connect it with the girl in the newspaper article. If this man and the girl were connected, I would soon find out.
“Why don’t you tell me why you are here?” I said.
“My sister was found murdered in an alley in the bad part of the lower east side,” he said. “I have been away for months,” he quickly explained. “I work on fishing boats in Alaska, which means sometimes there is little chance for communication. I arrived home last night around eleven and let myself into Janet’s apartment. Sh
e keeps a bed there for me in a room usually used as her laundry room.”
That answered my silent question regarding their relationship. I asked him for a full description of his sister. He gave it to me and stated that he gave the same information to the police. Jon Dubois pushed a faded photo of his sister across the desk. She had fine features and long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her smile welcomed anyone who wanted to know her better.
“Why are you hiring me to look into this since the police seem to be on top of it all? Don’t you want to see what they come up with before hiring a private investigator?”
“I want you on this, as well. Of course, they are already looking at me as a suspect. When I crashed last night at her place I knew she wasn’t home, but I had no idea where she was. I figured she was having a night out. She told me on the phone she did not have to work today.”
I wondered why she would have gone out if she rarely had the opportunity to see her brother. “Were the two of you close?”
“We were very close as children. I am three years older than Janet and I took care of her, even as a child. Our parents left us alone one day when she was eleven and I was fourteen. They went out on the town one night and never came back. It wasn’t so unusual that they went out drinking and partying. It was the first time they left us for longer than three or four days by ourselves.” He brushed his hands on his pant legs. “After a week there was very little to eat and I found some change that amounted to under ten dollars. I bought peanut butter and a loaf of bread. It was summer, so we didn’t have to worry about school.”
“Did you grow up there by yourselves the rest of your school years?” I asked.
“A neighbor suspected we were alone and called child services. In the end we went to live with an aunt and uncle. They cared very little for either of us. We were their unwanted burdens. Once I reached the age of eighteen I left for a life on my own. I often met Janet in a nearby convenience store. Once she was out of school, I went to Alaska and started working on fishing boats. She moved in with her boyfriend and worked as a waitress in several different diners around town.”
“Where is her boyfriend now?” I asked.
Jon laughed and scuffed his feet on the floor. “He left her when he found out she was pregnant. She was twenty by that time. A few weeks after she got the news of a child on the way, she miscarried and lost a boy. The boyfriend never knew whether the child lived or died.”
“When did she start working at Benny’s Café?”
“That was soon after the miscarriage. She told me about it. She found a nicer place to live and made up her mind to move forward. Her boyfriend is in prison for grand theft and attempted murder, so he’s where he should be.”
“That leaves you as closest to her. That is why the police suspect you first.”
Jon leaned back in his chair and looked me straight in the eye. His eyes were as dark as a night sky as he adamantly told me he would never harm his sister. I believed him for the time being. I asked him for the names of anyone who knew her on a personal level. That was the first place to start, but I soon realized that he knew very little about his sister’s friends. Often a year passed before he saw Janet. When he did come home, he was there for a week, at most, before returning to Alaska.
“Do you think I should get a lawyer?” he asked.
I told him that was up to him. If the police continued questioning him, I advised him to do so; otherwise, he should let them do their work. He then asked if I would take the case.
I gave him my rates and told him I would begin if he wanted me to. He agreed that I should get right on it and pulled his billfold from his back pocket. I reached for a copy of the normal agreement between me and clients. He thumbed through a wad of cash and pushed a generous amount my way. I counted it and gave him a signed receipt for his records. I told him I would keep in touch and that he should contact me whenever he wanted to.
After he left, I asked Evelyn to come in and I dictated the information to her.
“Get this into the new file folder on the computer as soon as you can. In the meantime, I have calls to make.”
My business grew enough that all three computers now connected with all file cases. Each case was categorized as to who was working on what case and the dates each began. I prided myself on a well-oiled operation. Efficiency was imperative in my business, and Natalie and Evelyn both met the criteria.
After Jon Dubois left, I looked at my interview notes. I picked up that he was concerned about finding out who killed his sister, but there was still much to learn about Jon Dubois and, more importantly, about his sister.
Chapter 2
Janet Dubois
When I arrived at Benny’s Café I met the owners, Marian and Benny Lodge. They were shaken up and tearful. The cops had left a couple of hours earlier after giving them the news of their server’s untimely death. I introduced myself and asked for a place to talk privately with them. I was led behind the kitchen to a back room that served as an office. Benny turned and locked the door behind us.
The owners appeared to be in their fifties. Benny’s thick glasses hopefully provided clear enough vision for him. It was hard to determine his eye color behind them, but I perceived they were grayish in color. His face was round in shape and a hint of a double chin had begun to emerge. His hair was black and thinning in spots. His energy level was present in the room, though somewhat subdued.
Marian Lodge also wore glasses that dangled on a chain around her neck. Heavy makeup did nothing to enhance her looks, which at one time must have caught the eyes of more than one man. She swept a strand of brown hair from her forehead and immediately took command of my visit.
“The police have been here asking questions already,” she said. The gravelly voice and persistent cough told me she smoked. The odor of stale cigarette smoke lingered on her, as well. “Why are you in on this?”
I explained to both of them that Janet’s brother had hired me to look into his sister’s death. “He felt if someone other than the police were on the case, perhaps the killer would have a better chance of being found.” Both stated they did not know Janet had a brother. “I think he wants the case to move along quickly.”
Benny opened his mouth to agree, but there was no chance with Marian there. “Whoever it is should hang for it. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill someone as sweet as Janet,” she said.
“Did you notice anything unusual in her mannerisms lately?” I asked. They both shook their heads. “What about drugs? Was she on drugs?”
The look in Marian’s eyes accused me. Benny shifted his glasses up from his nose and stared at me.
“That was one thing she was not doing,” said Marian. “We have known her for six years. There have never been any signs of drugs. I find it hard to believe that you assume that about her right off the bat.”
“I don’t assume anything. I have questions that must be asked. Answers will either lead me forward or will eliminate possibilities.”
I held my eyes steady on hers to convey the message that I was in charge here. She sank back in the chair and nodded. I continued my questions that had to do with anyone Janet Dubois associated with.
“She was good friends with another waitress here. She trained Sarah McIntyre two years ago,” said Benny. “Sarah is not here today. She and Janet both had today off.”
“Did they socialize together outside work?”
“I think they did on occasion. Janet was taking classes at the local community college,” said Marian. “She wanted to get a college degree in hospitality. She hoped to one day own a bed and breakfast.”
“What did she drive?” I asked. There had been no car when I passed her apartment. At first I thought it possible she did not own one, but was reminded that she was found too far from home to have walked to the lower east side.
“She drove a compact car. It was a Focus, I believe,” said Marian. She looked at her husband, who confirmed she drove a dark blue Focus vehicle
that was several years old. “She never missed work unless she was too sick to come in, which wasn’t often,” Marian added.
“She liked to ride horses, too. She often went to the stables and rode when she got off work,” said Benny. “She worked out a deal with the owner. Horseback riding can be expensive. That’s something we didn’t think about when the cops were here.”
He gave me the name of the stables and I jotted it down. After asking a few more questions, I thanked them for their help. Benny’s eyes filled with tears. He shook my hand vigorously.
“Do all you can, Miss McCauley. She did not deserve this.”
In my car, I searched for Iron Cowgirl Stables. It was located approximately four miles from Janet’s apartment. I passed her place and once again searched for a car. This time I knew what kind of car to look for. There was nothing in her parking space. One car was parked in the guest spot. The rental agency’s logo on the back in small letters told me the car was the one her brother used. I headed for the stables.
The countryside suddenly opened up when I came to a T in the road. I turned right onto a narrow blacktopped highway. How quickly one can go from city to country. Horses grazed in pastures and one gate read Lazy Z Stables. Another left turn and I approached the wide entrance to Iron Cowgirl Stables. The wrought-iron welcome over the opened gate included a cowgirl with a lasso in the corner. Driving several more yards, I edged over a slight hill. There I saw a corral with several children lined up, waiting to ride ponies. It appeared they were young learners. To the right was a large red barn where I parked my car next to the opened doors. I walked into the barn and refocused my vision to the shade. Odors of hay and animals reached my nostrils. I was not familiar with animals of any kind, unless you counted the dog my father brought home to me when I was six years old. Spunky did not last long since my mother insisted she was not going to clean up after him. My cousins, who were older than me, became his proud owners.