“No.”
“It’s okay, Mack,” Don smirked. “You and Franklin probably made a nice-looking couple, too.”
Charlie cut her eyes at Don, shooting darts his way.
“Okay, okay. So maybe Pamela isn’t a turncoat. But I want to check her out to make sure. Judy, keep digging on her. What does she do when she isn’t being in love and doing good?”
“Got it,” Judy said.
“So now that my blue note has been taken down a peg, let’s talk about the other questions on the board.”
The Mack partners bandied about the missing pieces of the case. Who was the person who knocked Franklin unconscious? Was that the person who killed Peter? If Fairchild was guilty of such an unthinkable act, what was his motivation? Did Fairchild act alone? How did the money clip come to be left in Peter’s condo? How was Franklin’s gun moved from his safe to the scene of the crime? The usual result of this exercise was to boost the number of questions. This time was no exception.
“You know that last one seems important,” Judy mused. “What did Franklin have to say about the gun?”
“He said he knew his suspicions about Fairchild were true when he read about the gun. He never carries it. It’s kept locked in that safe we saw,” Charlie said.
“So, if Franklin’s gun was at the scene, it would have to be an inside job,” Judy said. “Right?”
“As far as the police know, Franklin brought the gun to the apartment. But that’s pure speculation,” Don responded. “But so is the inside job business.”
“Well, if the crime scene photos show the weapon lying on a carpet near the living room, and Franklin didn’t see it when he came to, someone had to put the gun there after he ran,” Judy said.
“I am bothered by the location of the gun,” Don admitted.
Charlie smiled at the back-and-forth between her two partners. Judy was holding her own, and it was reminiscent of the idea sessions they would have before Gil Acosta left them last year. Charlie had worried about losing Gil’s analytical skills, but watching Don and Judy go at the questions this morning was encouraging.
“Do the police say there were signs of a struggle in the apartment?” Judy asked.
“Yes. The report tries to suggest that the shooting resulted from a physical fight between Franklin and Peter. But I’ve seen the crime scene photos and some of the security footage, and the evidence doesn’t sustain that theory. Peter resisted leaving the bar, so he and Franklin had a back-and-forth. That’s true. The bartender confirms that. But Wallace and I watched tape from the elevator camera. It shows Peter acting belligerent and getting in Franklin’s face, but Franklin wasn’t violent. He kept his cool.”
“That reminds me, Don, would you follow up with DPD to find out how they justify a first-degree charge against Franklin?”
“Sure,” Don said, reaching for the case file and pulling out the police report. “The medical examiner says Peter was killed between 8 and 10 p.m. We know it wasn’t eight, because he didn’t leave the bar with your ex until around 8:30.” Don flipped pages in his notebook. “The security cameras caught the two of them arriving at Peter’s building around 8:45, and Franklin leaving at 9:30.” Don consulted the report again. “The 911 call came in just before 10 p.m. But before that, at 9:10, there’s a guy slinking around the building. There’s no way to tell who it is as the footage is too dark, but that might be your killer, Mack.”
“I think we have to look at more of the footage, Don.”
“Agreed. I need breakfast,” he said in one of his regular non sequiturs.
“I know you have to eat, but I have one more thing, and I need advice. I owe Pamela a call to give her a report. Franklin said it’s okay to tell Pamela he’s all right, but nothing else. What, exactly, can I say without her asking too many questions?”
“You can tell her Franklin finally called you, and he’s okay, but doesn’t want to give himself up yet,” Don said.
“How do I explain that?”
“Let’s do a role play,” Judy said. “I have an idea how you can satisfy Pamela for the time being.”
“Okay,” Don said. “But let’s make it fast. I’m starving.”
# # #
“I’ve been waiting for your call. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I heard from you. What’s happening? Have you found Franklin?”
“I apologize, Pamela. We’ve been very busy.” Charlie quickly listed the completed tasks in their investigation, not giving Pamela a chance to interrupt. “I met with Franklin’s parents yesterday. One of my partners is a former cop, and he looked at crime photos with the lead detective on the case. After Ms. Novak met with you and your parents, she tracked down Peter’s two women friends you mentioned. We have a meeting with one of the women today, and we also have a lead from the security footage to follow up on.”
“You met with Franklin’s parents?”
Charlie could hear either jealousy or hurt in Pamela’s voice. She couldn’t tell which.
“Yes. Briefly.”
“I called Mr. and Mrs. Rogers and left a message, but they haven’t called back,” Pamela said. “Have they heard from Franklin? Has anybody?”
“They’ve sequestered themselves. They’re very distraught as you might imagine. They’re getting a lot of calls, and police and the media are staked out in front of their house.”
Pamela was quiet. Charlie could sense her resentment shaping into a thundercloud.
“There’s something else I need to tell you, Pamela. I finally spoke with Franklin. Last night.”
Pamela gasped. “Oh my God. I was so worried he might be dead.”
“He knows you’re worried. He wanted me to tell you he’s all right, but he’s afraid the person responsible for Peter’s death may be after him. That’s why he’s running.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible,” Pamela began, then hesitated. “But that doesn’t make sense. Even if the police think he’s guilty, they’ll protect him if he turns himself in.”
“He doesn’t think so. The main thing he wants you to know is that he loves you, Pamela.”
“Why . . . why did he call you, and not me?” She fought back sobs.
“He thinks your phones are being monitored by the police. He doesn’t want to get you into trouble, and he doesn’t want them to be able to trace his call.”
Charlie’s half-truths, practiced at the office, helped focus Pamela on Franklin’s well-being, not her hurt feelings or details of the case.
“Where is he hiding? Is he safe?”
“He wouldn’t tell me where he’s hiding. He said he didn’t kill Peter. I told him you knew that. He seemed relieved. He was worried you might not believe him. He said he’d try to find a way to call you,” Charlie lied.
“Thank you, Charlie. Thank you. I have to let mother and dad know you’ve heard from him. But, if he didn’t kill Peter, who did?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Charlie disconnected the call and rested her chin on folded hands.
“Did it work?” Judy asked.
“Yes. You were right. She was relieved when I said Franklin sent his love and was worried about her. She’s genuinely concerned about him. No doubt about it. Maybe she has no idea what her father’s been up to after all.”
Chapter 10
Don and Judy met Lainey Pratt at a juice bar in Farmington Hills. She was a small woman, maybe five-foot-four, brunette, in her mid-twenties with sparkling gray eyes. She was dressed in workout clothes, and her arm muscles were a miniature version of Schwarzenegger’s in his prime. She noticed Judy and Don staring at her biceps and donned a jacket. Lainey told them she’d met Peter at a gym in downtown Detroit. She’d purchased a membership there because it had a workout space with a pole.
“Pole routines are an excellent workout—takes less time and provides better fitness than running. Peter came to the gym on the weekends. It wasn’t far from his place. He’d watch me work out. A lot of the men did. Th
ey think a woman doing a pole workout is an easy target, you know.”
“I know,” Don said.
Lainey gave Don a curious stare before continuing.
“Anyway, a few times he was wearing a Spartan tee. So when he asked to buy me a coffee, I said yes.”
Don had a puzzled look.
“Spartan,” Judy said. “Michigan State.”
“Oh. That’s right. Is that what you two talked about? College?” Don asked.
“We did that first day. He went to State ten years before I did. But, you know, he was a funny guy. He didn’t come on too strong, took me to music concerts and stuff. He was into music. I took him to a couple of campus parties, and he fit right in. He had a boyish quality about him.”
Tears came to Lainey’s eyes and she dabbed at them with her napkin, then took a long sip of a green health drink. The juice bar didn’t have coffee, so Don had opted for a strawberry-banana-orange juice smoothie. Judy was drinking something called a green tea fusion.
“Were you two serious?” Judy asked.
“Not really. We just had fun together. I sort of like older men.”
“We’ve heard Peter had a drinking problem,” Don said.
“Yep.” Lainey did another wipe of her eyes with her sleeve. “I don’t drink. So he was respectful of that. But when he came to watch me dance, he drank quite a lot. I didn’t like it.”
“So tell me more about this pole dancer thing,” Don started. He saw Judy’s warning look and ignored it. “Doesn’t seem like a good thing to do for someone who wants to be a lawyer.”
Lainey snorted. “That’s the same thing my father said when he found out. Look. Law school is intense. There’s no time for a full-time job, and my tuition is $35,000 a year. My parents put me through undergrad, but they don’t have the money to pay for grad school, and I wouldn’t want them to pay. I can make five hundred to eight hundred a night when I do a shift at the club. I make another five hundred every time I teach a class.”
“Wow,” Judy said.
“Wow,” Don repeated.
“You teach pole dancing?” Judy asked.
“You’d be surprised how many women want to learn it. A lot of my students are wives whose husbands pay for the class. The ones who stick with the class get really strong and start to feel very independent.”
“What about this name,” Don said, looking at his notes. “‘Cursory Brief’?”
“It’s good, isn’t it? Nobody uses their real name when they dance. I’m studying law, and the name sounds mysterious and sexy. It seemed to fit.”
Don gave Lainey a skeptical look.
“Look. I don’t do any stripping, and I wear a modified two-piece swimsuit.”
“Okay. So Peter came to see you dance?”
“All the time. But he had a couple of run-ins with my manager. Peter would drink too much and get possessive. I mean we had an intimate relationship, but we were just friends.” She began crying again. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I hadn’t seen him for almost a month. Since the new semester began.”
“We don’t mean to upset you, Lainey, but we have just a few more questions,” Judy began. “Is that okay?” Lainey nodded and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “Tell us about these run-ins between your manager and Peter.”
“I had to get a manager. At first, I didn’t have one. But you get better gigs and better contracts if you do. Also, your manager makes sure the management knows there won’t be any hanky-panky. When Peter was drunk, he sometimes took offense to the men who wanted to tip me. It was bad for business and bad for the club. So George, that’s my manager, asked Peter to stay away. The next time it happened they had words, and George physically threw Peter out of the club.”
“Did Peter ever talk to you about any of his other friends or business associates?”
“Sometimes. But not too much.”
“Did he mention a man who wanted him to invest in a liquor business?” Don asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“What about Karen Scanlon?”
“Oh, yeah. He talked about her, and I met her once. I think he really liked Karen. He hired her to help him furnish his place. He was happy with her work, and she helped him get some artwork and light fixtures. But he came home unexpectedly one day and found her in his place with another guy. She said the guy was there to measure for some window treatments, but Peter thought the man was casing the place for a robbery. He didn’t really trust her after that, and he took back his key.”
Don and Judy shared a look. Don jotted a couple of notes.
Judy leaned toward Lainey and lowered her voice as if she was sharing a secret. “Did you and Peter ever talk about his father?”
“All the time. Our fathers had a lot in common. Except his was rich. We both knew we had disappointed our fathers. That’s another thing Peter and I had in common.”
“Oh really?” Judy said, encouraging her to go on.
“I live at home, you know. But my dad hardly speaks to me since he found out about the dancing.”
“How’d he find out?” Don asked.
“Some guy he works with recognized me at one of my club dates. I guess my father is embarrassed.”
“Can you blame him?” Don said.
Judy gave Don a “you’re not helping” glance. Lainey’s stare was more “you old white guys really stick together, don’t you?”
“Anyway,” Lainey said, sighing, “Peter’s father thought he couldn’t do anything right. He had people checking on him all the time. Peter wasn’t as interested in business as his dad was, you know? He probably would have been a musician if his father had let him. I saw Peter cry once when he told me about overhearing his father in a phone conversation. Mr. Fairchild told whoever was on the other end that he sometimes wondered if his wife had had an affair, and Peter wasn’t really his.” Lainey shook her head. “Can you believe that? What an asshole.”
Lainey finished off her healthy drink by shaking the cup, removing the top, and tilting it almost upside down.
“I don’t think I have any more questions. You, Novak?” Don asked.
“No. You’ve been very, very helpful,” Judy said to Lainey.
“I just can’t believe Peter is dead. He was a nice guy, you know? I really liked him.”
# # #
“How did I do with the questions?” Judy asked Don when they got to the car.
“Not bad, Novak. Charlie’s right, you really do know how to make people open up.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Nope.”
“Thanks for your support.”
“This is tough love, Novak. It’s great that you’re a whiz at the research, and you can handle yourself in an interview. But that’s just half the job. An investigator has to hone his or her instincts, and be attuned to the unexpected.”
“If that’s code for being able to fight, that’s never going to be me.”
“I know.”
“You think the world is a violent place, don’t you?”
“It is.”
“There are more good people in the world than bad. I know that in my heart.”
“Maybe. But only a few bad ones can make the rest of us afraid. That’s why this baby is never far from my side.” Don patted the gun holster under his jacket.
They rode along the freeway in silence. Don turned on the radio to the all-news station. A light snow was expected tomorrow according to the excited meteorologist.
“If it’s going to snow, I hope Franklin has a place to sleep,” Judy said.
“He told Charlie he wasn’t hungry. I bet someone has taken him in. Maybe his parents or a friend of his father.”
“Could Franklin really be right about his father-in-law?”
“I’m leaning toward no. Wanna know why?”
“Sure.”
“Peter had a lot of enemies. People he just didn’t get along with. So far, the pole dancer is the only person who’s had anything good to say about the guy.
”
“Her name is Lainey. She’s a law student. Don’t be such a caveman.”
“Okay. The law student. But you see my point. Even the guy’s family was down on him.”
“His mother put him in a favorable light.”
Don turned to look at Judy. “Okay, if I’m a caveman, you’re a Pollyanna.”
# # #
Charlie and Don sat wedged into a storage room with two desktop computers and a wall of boxes that blocked the fresh air and light from the slightly open window. Charlie was hunched over, viewing lobby footage from Peter’s building. Don focused on footage from the parking lot and a loading area at the rear of the building. They’d been at it for a couple of hours.
“I hate to even say this, but do you think we’re going back far enough?” Don asked.
“Who knows,” Charlie responded. “Starting the weekend before the murder is just a way to be systematic. Maybe we’ll see something of interest, maybe not. It’s due diligence.”
“I’ll need to stop for some dinner soon.”
“Your stomach is better than any watch I know.”
“It’s a fine-tuned machine.”
“If you say so. I think you’re gaining weight.”
“This is my winter weight, Mack. It’s why I don’t have to be burdened down with a heavy coat.”
When they got through the Sunday footage, Don went out for gyros and soft drinks. Charlie checked on Mandy and Hamm, then called Ernestine.
“Hi, Mom. Just calling to check in and see how you’re doing. How was your day?”
“Pretty good. The van took us out to Eastland Mall for our indoor walk. We moved it up because it’s forecast to snow tomorrow.”
“I think it’s supposed to start tonight. But I doubt there will be much accumulation.”
“How are you? You’re at home?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’m working tonight on Franklin’s case.”
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