The first couple of minutes were spent getting Cobb and me seated in matching blue recliners, coffee poured, shortbread biscuits distributed, and the mandatory small talk of introductions made.
She sat opposite us in an older easy chair that looked utilitarian but comfortable.
If Janine had money, it wasn’t reflected in the furnishings of her home. Like the exterior, the living space inside was clean, pleasant, and comfortable but not the stuff of wealth. Our coffee was in mugs, not cups.
I liked her right off. Her smile seemed genuine and she appeared to be totally at ease with talking to a couple of guys who might be about to ask difficult questions.
“I understand you’re representing the young man who is Glenna’s boyfriend.”
“That’s right,” Cobb said, after swallowing a bite of shortbread. “The police charged him this morning.”
“Oh dear.”
“It was expected,” Cobb told her. “His fingerprints were on the murder weapon.”
“I see,” she murmured. “But you feel he didn’t shoot Wendell, or if he did, you want to get him off.” She was forthright but spoke without attitude, and she definitely lacked the venom her sister had displayed, although I reminded myself that Bad Susannah had only surfaced when the questioning got unpleasant.
“The former,” Cobb replied. “We don’t think Danny killed Claiborne. No, let me rephrase that. I haven’t met Danny, but my partner” — he tilted his head in my direction — “has talked to him and feels strongly that Danny is a victim in all this.”
Janine turned her gaze to me and I gave her an abridged version of my conversation with Danny in Cobb’s office.
When I finished she looked thoughtful but remained silent.
“Based on what I’ve said, are you surprised that your former husband made the proposal he did to Danny?”
“That’s difficult to answer, Mr. Cullen.” She spoke slowly. “Wendell was not a good man in many ways. And I don’t doubt that he might have wanted his wife dead. But conspiring with a teenage boy to kill her — that seems rather extreme even for him.”
“Why do you think he might have wanted Mrs. Claiborne dead?”
“Well, Wendell made a habit of discarding women — I was one of them. It didn’t seem that Rachel was as inclined to accept being thrown out of his home and his life as the rest of us were.”
Cobb looked at me. I knew what he wanted. If there was to be unpleasantness, he wanted me to be the instigator. That way he could jump back as Mr. Nice Guy and pick up the pieces.
“Do you mind my asking, Mrs. Claiborne, was there a financial settlement that went with being exited from your ex’s life?”
“First of all, I don’t mind your asking that, and secondly, I really prefer Janine. Mrs. Claiborne carries with it some … unpleasantness. To answer your question, I received one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which I know doesn’t sound like much now, but I wanted out and probably would have taken less to be free of him. I used the money to buy this house, which was doable twenty years ago. I even had a little left over. I got a job, the one I have now, and the rest, as they say …”
I nodded. “On the subject of history, Janine, and again I apologize in advance for the question — we understand that you had previously acquired some fairly large sums of money.”
“Mr. Cullen, in the first place, that’s not a question, and secondly, again I’m happy to share that information with you. Once I was arrested, a lot of what money I still had went to my legal people. When I got out of jail, I had very little left, and what I had I frankly squandered. I was ‘down on my luck,’ I think the expression is, when I met Wendell.”
Cobb jumped back in at that point. “Your meeting Claiborne, did that come about because of your sister’s relationship with him?”
“It did, yes.” She nodded. “And I’m happy to tell you about that, as well, but can I offer you more coffee first?”
Cobb declined but I thought back to the missed martini opportunity and decided that since I actually wanted more coffee, maybe I should say that. I did and Janine Claiborne refreshed mine then hers. As she came closer I was reminded that she was younger than Susannah. And though she was not the beauty her sister was, she was not unattractive.
When she had returned to her chair, she smiled and said, “I thought Wendell was charming — most women did — but I absolutely would not have entered into a relationship with him while he was with Susannah. My sister would probably see this differently, but sometime after that first meeting, Wendell told me he was attracted to me and assured me it was over between him and Susannah. I believed him, and I was wrong to do that. I know that now. It may have been over in his mind, but Susannah was unaware that she was about to be … set aside. I think it’s fair to say that she has hated me ever since. I don’t blame her.”
“She mentioned that you called her with the news of Claiborne’s death.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And how did you learn he’d been killed?”
“Glenna called me. It was very early — I guess about six.”
“Were you and Glenna close?” Cobb asked.
“I always got along very well with Glenna. I’m not sure why. We met when she was maybe five or six and I’ve always felt more like an aunt where she’s involved. Rachel, Glenna’s mom and the current Mrs. Claiborne —” She stopped suddenly and shook her head. “That was stupid. You already know that, of course.”
“That’s all right,” Cobb said lightly. “Please go on.”
“Anyway, Rachel doesn’t mind. I’ve taken Glenna to the movies the odd time and a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert a couple of years ago. I guess she thought I’d want to know and I got the feeling she wanted to talk to someone.”
“Did she say who she thought might have shot her dad?”
“No. As I said, she was upset and emotional and though she seemed to want to talk, a lot of what she was saying sounded like nonsense, bordering on the hysterical, even though it had been hours since … but I guess that isn’t really very long, is it, especially to one so young? But was it the kind of upset that would be the result of worrying about her boyfriend having something to do with it? If that was it, I couldn’t say.”
“Do you have any thoughts as to people who might have wanted to harm Wendell?”
She thought about it for quite a while before answering. “I assume you’re considering all of the exes, including me. But I honestly have doubts about that. Wendell was a philanderer, no question, but he didn’t mistreat his women, at least not that I’m aware of. Although I suppose it can be argued that cheating on them is mistreating them. But he was never abusive to me, not even verbally. Wendell loved falling in love, and when that had worn off, it was time to get rid of the old, find someone new, and fall in love again. Although I admit it didn’t always happen in that order.”
Both Cobb and I waited, thinking there might be more. There was.
“There were a number of women in Wendell’s life over the years, beyond the ones he married or lived with. Not all of them were unmarried. I should think that might have created enemies for him. And I’m not sure Wendell displayed much more integrity in his business life than he did in his personal life. I suppose, if it were me, I might look into some of his business dealings and the people he had those dealings with. If you’re sure, that is, that your young man … Danny was it? … if you’re sure it wasn’t him.”
“We’re quite certain about Danny,” I said. “But it may not be easy to prove he’s innocent unless we’re able to find the real killer.”
She nodded. “I wish you luck, I really do. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for that young man and his family. I’m very glad he has you working on his behalf.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Cobb scribbled something in his notebook, then looked up. “So … angry husbands, business associates … anybody else?”
“Well, there’s Trenton, but of course, you know abo
ut him.”
Cobb and I exchanged looks.
“Ah, I see you don’t.”
“We know he’s your sister’s employee. That’s all we know. Would you mind enlightening us?”
“Trenton worked for Wendell in several capacities — chauffeur, personal secretary, valet. I don’t know that he had an official title, but he’d been with Wendell quite a long time. When Susannah moved in with Wendell, Trenton fell for her. Hard. Head over heels. It was obvious to everyone, and eventually it became obvious to Wendell, as well. It grew awkward and Wendell had to let him go.”
“And Trenton winds up working for your sister,” Cobb noted. “Any thought that there might be something more to that relationship than employer-employee?”
“I couldn’t say. Susannah has never said, and I haven’t asked. We’re no longer close enough that I would feel comfortable asking her something like that.”
Cobb looked at me to see if there was anything else I wanted to ask. I gave a small head shake and he closed his notebook.
“We want to thank you, ma’am. Your candour has been much appreciated.”
She smiled at him. “Ma’am,” she repeated. “I must say, I like that almost as much as Mrs. Claiborne.”
“Sorry.” Cobb shook his head ruefully. “I didn’t mean to be —”
She stopped him with an outstretched hand. “You haven’t been anything but a gentleman.” She looked at me as she got to her feet. “Both of you. And I sincerely hope you’re successful in your quest.”
I noted she didn’t use the phrase get him off this time.
She walked us to the door; we shook hands, and I followed Cobb out into an unseasonably hot February day. Neither of us spoke until we were back in the car.
As I pulled away from the curb, Cobb said, “Trenton.”
“Didn’t see that one coming.”
“What do you think?”
“Well, it’s interesting,” I said. “But it’s a long way from having a crush on the boss’s girlfriend to offing the boss, especially twenty years after the fact.”
“True, but love and all its ramifications have been responsible for a hell of a lot of murders and mayhem throughout history. It’s worth checking out.”
“I agree.”
“How about you work your investigative magic on him later today? Next up, Matthew Luft.”
“Before or after lunch?”
Cobb consulted his watch. “After.”
“Phew,” I said. “You scared me there for a minute. That shortbread was amazing, but the trouble with shortbread is it’s, well, short.”
Cobb pushed back his chair, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “That, my friend, was mighty fine.”
“No argument here.”
We had chosen the Burger Inn on 4th Street. It was handy and the name was the only unimaginative thing about the place. Cobb, ever the old-school guy when it came to food choices, had gone with the prime rib burger, while I had been only slightly more daring with the elk burger. Both plates had been all but licked clean.
Cobb’s phone beeped and he looked down for a minute, reading, then looked up at me. “While you were in the washroom I texted a former colleague. The bad news is he’s retiring next year, which will leave me with one less contact on the force. The good news is that he ran Trenton through records and got a couple of hits.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I’ll leave out the part where he cusses me for not giving him a full name. Hard to work with just Trenton. I knew that, told him that was all we had.”
“And?”
“Full name Marcus Trenton. Anglicized version of a Croatian name I can’t pronounce. Hmm … like damn near everybody involved with Claiborne, Trenton is less than squeaky clean. Did a little pimping, some bookmaking, and there were a couple of other charges, mostly assaults. Nasty stuff.”
“He didn’t look that tough.”
“Which is why they invented baseball bats.”
“He connected to organized crime?”
“Doesn’t say. Could have been. Or maybe an independent who did a little work for them on the side.”
“Like Janine, saw the error of his ways and decided to reform his life?”
“Doesn’t say that either. That’s part of your job.” He glanced again at his watch. “Time to go. I don’t want to keep Luft waiting.”
“Right.” I reached for the bill. “I’ve got this. It’s my turn.”
As I picked it up, Spirit of the West’s “Home for a Rest” announced that I had a call. I looked at the screen. It was Jill. “I better take this.”
Cobb nodded and made his way toward the washroom as I lifted the phone to my ear.
“I love you,” I said.
“You need to come to my place, Adam, right away.”
The chill that wormed its way around my spinal column was a combination of fear and dread.
“Are you okay?” I said, the urgency in my voice turning the heads of a couple of nearby diners.
“I’m okay. Kyla’s fine. You need to come now.”
“I’m on my way.” I ended the call as Cobb came back from the washroom.
“I gotta go,” I told him. “That was Jill. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what. She and Kyla are okay but I need to be there right away.”
Cobb nodded and instantly was the ex-cop I’d seen in action before. “I’ll come with you.”
I shook my head. “I’m okay. I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I know.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Right, go. I’ll walk back to the office.”
“I can —”
He held up a hand. “It’s six blocks; I can handle it. Call as soon as you know what’s up. If there’s anything I can do …”
I nodded once and was out the door. I drove faster than meets with the approval of the authorities, but luckily I didn’t encounter any of those authorities between the Burger Inn and Jill’s house.
I slid the car in behind an Audi, jumped out, and started toward the house. I didn’t make it.
“Hey, Cullen.”
I turned to watch a human giant heave himself out of the Audi.
Audi. I should have known. I’d seen the car before. And as I turned I realized I’d seen the giant before, too.
Minnis.
I looked at the house, then back at Minnis. He shook his head.
“Your girlfriend’s fine. No need for her not to be, right?”
I knew instantly what this was about. The day of reckoning had arrived. And I knew, too, why the MFs had chosen the meeting to be at Jill’s house. The threat — unspoken — was palpable. Like the fear that gripped me as I looked at the imposing, deadly figure of one of the people I feared most in the world.
I realized that in none of my previous encounters with Minnis had I ever heard him speak. The voice didn’t fit. Or maybe it fit perfectly. It was low and soft, forcing the listener to pay close attention to every syllable. Which I realized, as he came around the car toward me, heightened the menace of the man even more.
But there was more than menace to this man. There was evil.
“What did you tell her?”
He held his hands out, palms up. “Hey, you’re way too suspicious, Scribe. You need to relax.”
Scribe. His boss’s term for me. “What did you tell her?” I repeated, hoping my voice conveyed more of the rage and less of the dread I was feeling in equal parts.
“I mentioned we’d met before and I had a message for you from the MFs, something you’d want to know. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her about your … arrangement with us. That could come later, of course.”
There was no way of knowing if he was telling the truth. I’d know that as soon as I went inside and talked to Jill.
“What do you want?”
He stepped closer. I willed myself not to step back. “You’ll be receiving a package in the next few days. There will be instructions with the pack
age. Your job will be to get that package to a destination in the United States. How you do that is up to you.”
“You want me to smuggle something across the border.”
“You’ll be receiving a package that you will deliver to someone in the U.S.” The second time he said it was in the same disembodied voice as the first time.
“And if I tell you to shove it up your ass?”
Minnis glanced toward the house. “You probably don’t want to do that.”
That’s when I stepped back, wanting to get into the house. I took a couple of steps, then turned back to him. “How do I get the package?”
“We’ll get it to you. You don’t need to worry about that part.”
“Are you done?”
“For now, Scribe, I’m done. Now it’s up to you. My advice? Don’t fuck up.”
I badly wanted to come back with something that would convey my loathing for this noxious mound of vile malevolence. I failed. This time when I turned away from him, I kept on going. I stepped in the front door and Jill was there.
“I was watching,” she said.
I nodded. “I thought you might be. Thank you.”
I knew that if things had gotten physical with Minnis, she’d have been out the door, doing what she could. It wouldn’t have been nearly enough, of course, but that wouldn’t have stopped her from trying.
“What did that …? What did he want?”
I knew I’d have to lie to her again. But I wanted to come as close to the truth as I could.
“He didn’t say. Just told me that the MFs wanted to talk to Cobb and me about something. Down the road sometime. He was, I guess, setting the stage for that.”
“Why here?”
I knew she’d ask that. And I knew, too, that this was the tough part.
“They’re devious bastards, Jill. I think they want us to know that they know where you live. Which is ridiculous, of course. It’s not like we’re a secret. It’s just part of the games they play.”
“I need to know, Adam. Is Kyla in danger?”
Not are we in danger. Only is Kyla in danger.
“Kyla is not in any danger, Jill. Neither of you are.”
And that wasn’t a lie. Because I knew that whatever the package was — I was certain it was something illegal, probably drugs — I would do what they asked. I would soon be a lawbreaker, a smuggler. But Jill and Kyla would be safe.
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