by Paul Carr
“Yeah, me too,” Crook said.
Casey stepped over to a kitchenette and got a beer from the refrigerator. He poured half of it into a glass and filled the remainder with tomato juice. “Hair of the dog, you know.”
When he returned and got seated, Dalton said, “What time did you leave the party?”
Casey took a slug of the drink. “I think it was about two or two-thirty.”
“You brought a guest, right?”
“Sure, Marilyn was with me. Marilyn Coe. She left when I did.” Ana Kovich had given him the woman’s name.
“Did you or anyone argue with Riley?”
“No, we had a grand time. Why would you ask me that?” He slurped the tomato concoction.
“Riley Gunn died this morning between the hours of 2:00 and 7:00 a.m.”
“What?” Frowning, he set his glass down on a side table and leaned forward. “That can’t be. I was the last one to leave, and he was fine. You sure it was Riley?”
“Yes, I’m sure. His housekeeper found him.”
“Riley, dead. This is too much.” Casey put his fingers to his temples and kneaded. He downed the remainder from the glass. When Dalton told him Gunn had been murdered, he just stared, seemingly dumbfounded.
“Are you aware of the insurance policy he took out recently?” Dalton asked.
“Yeah, he told me about it.” He glanced at his empty glass.
“It named you and two other band members as beneficiaries for a million each.”
Casey’s eyes narrowed. “What? You suspect one of us killed him for the insurance money?”
Buddy’s phone played an electric guitar version of the Star Spangled Banner. He glanced at the display and said to Dalton, “I need to take this.” He stepped outside.
“Sorry, I’m just covering bases,” Dalton said to Casey. “Did Ms. Coe spend any time with you after you left the party?”
“Yeah, she stayed here last night. Left right before your call. And I can tell you, I make a lot more than a million dollars when we’re on tour. And my share of record sales is even more than that.”
Dalton didn’t think Casey did the killing, but they would check with Marilyn Coe for an alibi. “Can you think of anyone who would want Mr. Gunn dead?”
Casey massaged his stomach. “I’m gonna be sick.” He jumped up from his chair and headed for the hallway.
Crook came in and said, “That was the security company. They have video of everybody who entered and left Gunn’s home last night.”
Chapter 2
While waiting for Casey to return, Dalton asked Crook to pull up the website for Redgunn. It indicated that there were three members other than Riley Gunn. Since only two of them were at the party, Dalton compared the list Crook had researched with the names on the site. The drummer, Jimmy Earl, hadn’t attended.
Casey returned a few minutes later, his face ashen. He scowled and shook his head. “Riley could be a bitter pill, but I can’t imagine anybody wanting to kill him because of it.”
“He have arguments with anybody?” Dalton asked.
Shrugging, Casey said, “He and Sheffield got into it a week or so ago.”
“The band member?”
“Yeah, lead guitar. He wanted to sing a solo on the album we been working on, but Riley wouldn’t go for it.”
“Why not?”
Casey gave him a look that said Why do you think? “It was Riley’s band. He wanted all the glory.” It sounded as if Casey might have resented Gunn, too.
“Did they get along okay at the party?”
“Oh, yeah. They’d bumped heads before over the same thing. Sheffield pouted for a few days, but he got over it.”
“What about Jimmy Earl? The drummer. Why didn’t he come to the party?”
Casey’s squinted his eyes, as if trying to remember. “I think Riley said he went to see his ex in Miami.”
Dalton made notes in his pad. “Okay, I guess the only other thing I need is the identity of the guests who weren’t in the band, other than your dates. Did you know the others? A woman and two men?”
“Riley introduced us when they arrived, but he never said how he knew them. As I remember, the woman’s name is Hilda something. Wright, I think. Yeah, Hilda Wright. She sat by herself most of the time, soaking up the booze and staring at her phone. I have no idea why she was there. The two guys were brothers: Stefan and Lars Lange. I remember them best because they hung around with me and Marilyn for a while.”
“Do you know if either of the three was in the music business?”
“Yeah, let’s see.” He closed his eyes and brushed back his tangled mane with his fingers, then said, “The brothers were music producers. They wanted to do a Redgunn album.”
****
Dalton and Crook left and drove to the security company on Stock Island. A receptionist in the lobby showed them to a small office where a woman named Rona loaded and ran the videos. She had files for cameras on the front, rear, and each side of the house. The camera at the entrance had no activity until late in the day when the guests began arriving.
“I need an image of each person who enters,” Dalton said.
“Electronic or paper?” Rona asked.
“Both.”
Rona rolled her eyes, but did as requested. Seven people arrived for the party in four different vehicles: a Range Rover, a Lexus, a Mercedes, and a Cadillac SUV. Dalton recognized Colin Casey, who made his entrance with a date, presumably Marilyn Coe, around 8:30 p.m. in the Rover. Dalton guessed at the identities of the others based on the Redgunn website and what Casey had told him about them. Sheffield and his date arrived in the Caddie about five minutes before 9:00, followed by the Lange brothers in the Lexus a minute later. The blonde woman, presumably Hilda Wright, arrived in the Mercedes about 9:30. She departed first, around midnight. The brothers left around 2:00, along with Sheffield and his date. Casey didn’t leave until after 3:00, and his date drove them away. Casey had departed later than he’d said. Maybe just a lapse attributed to booze and whatever else he might have consumed at the gathering.
At 3:50 the video went blank, as if the camera dropped offline.
“What happened there?” Buddy asked.
“Don’t know,” Rona said. “Looks like somebody deactivated the camera feed.”
“How could that happen?”
Rona accessed Gunn’s account. “It says here that the owner requested switches for all the cameras so he could turn them off if he wanted to.”
So Gunn might have turned off the cameras himself. The only reason he would do that is if he wanted to hide some activity from the video, like a cocaine delivery.
Ana Kovich hadn’t appeared in the video, but a silver Toyota had left around 9:10 from the side of the house and headed down the driveway to the street. Dalton asked about the video for that area. When Rona ran through it he spotted Kovich departing from a door next to a three-car garage and getting into the Toyota. There was no other activity after that, and then, as with the entrance video, it went blank around 3:50. They went through to the end of each video but found no other activity after that time.
Dalton said to Rona, “Can you make a DVD of the activity for the entrance and the garage side, beginning a couple of days prior?”
Shrugging, Rona said, “I guess so, it’ll take a few minutes.”
They waited for the disc and left. In the parking lot, Dalton said he would visit Marilyn Coe. He asked Crook to go by the office and research Hilda Wright and the Lange brothers.
****
Coe lived in a mobile home park on Stock Island. Dalton called her but didn’t get an answer. On the chance that she might be home, he went there anyway. A small, tan sedan sat out front. She came to the door bleary-eyed, wearing a filmy gown. A beautiful thirty-something, she had purple hair and a tattoo of a butterfly on her neck. Dalton flashed his badge.
“What do you want?” she asked through the half-open door.
“I need to talk with you about Riley Gunn.”
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sp; She yawned and then stared for a moment. “Okay, come in, but make it quick. I need some more sleep before I start my shift at noon.”
He entered and sat on the sofa. A wadded fast food bag and a couple of diet soda cans littered a coffee table. Several fashion magazines lay scattered on the floor. She took a seat in a recliner, and the gown rode high as she pulled her legs up beneath her.
“Riley Gunn was murdered sometime this morning,” Dalton said.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, wow, he’s dead?”
“Yes.” As if murder could have any other result.
“Then I guess you already know I was at his place last night for a get-together.”
Dalton nodded.
“I liked him, but he could be irritating. He couldn’t keep his hands off me every time Colin went for drinks.”
Dalton could understand how Gunn might have been attracted. Her looks easily outclassed those of the other women at his house. Even the tattoo was a work of art. She said she had no idea who might want him dead, and her account of what happened after leaving his house compared closely with that of her date.
She picked up a phone from the table next to her chair and glance at the screen. “Did you call me a little while ago?”
“Yes, about twenty minutes ago.”
“I left the phone in here so I could get some sleep. You woke me up banging on the door.”
“What time did you leave Casey’s house this morning?”
“About nine.”
“Were you with him the entire time after you left the Gunn residence?”
“Yeah, but I took the sofa, so I didn’t get much sleep. I called a taxi this morning and left.” She yawned again. “Sorry about Riley. You done?”
“Why’d you sleep on the sofa?”
Another yawn. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Colin was too drunk to take me home, and he and I haven’t advanced to the bedroom.”
“Did you notice anybody at the party using drugs.”
“Just Riley. He went down the hall several times during the night. Came back sniffing and rubbing his nose.”
“Nobody else?”
“Not that I noticed.”
He eyed her for a couple of seconds. “I’m not here to bust anybody on drugs. He had a lot of cocaine on his dresser, and I just want to establish if he had it at that time.”
Fixing him with a frown, she said, “You think because I look like a rocker chick I’m into drugs?”
“Sorry, just asking. No disrespect intended.”
The frown morphed into a coquettish smile. He felt his face flush.
“That’s okay,” she said, “just razzing you. The answer is still no, though. You need anything else?”
He shook his head and stood. “That should do it for now. Where do you work, in case I have questions later?” She told him the name of a club on Duval.
Walking him to the door, she said, “You know, you’re pretty cute.” She gave him another smile that sent his pulse up a few beats. “Call me some time when you’re not in cop mode.”
As enticing as that sounded, he knew it would be a bad idea…at least while the investigation continued. He thanked her and left. The car was hot when he got in. He started it, cranked the air up high, and drove out of the park. The vision of the scantily clad woman with purple hair remained behind his eyes until the phone chimed. He glanced at the display and answered.
Lola Ann said, “I haven’t heard from you in a while.” She had a regular news show on Channel Six that had proved beneficial in solving his murder case in Islamorada. An on-air interview with her had helped set a trap for the killer. Their relationship became intimate for a time, but that interest had waned for both of them in the last couple of months.
“Yeah, sorry, still getting acclimated. Burglary and robbery cases have kept me pretty busy.”
“Sounds like a waste of your talents.”
“Maybe. I don’t think my new lieutenant is too sure about my talents. The sheriff brought me in, and I think it miffed him a little.”
“Uh-oh, not another micro-manager, I hope.”
“We’ll see. The jury’s still out.” He didn’t mention the murder case. She would want to run with it, and that probably wouldn’t set well with Springer.
“Nothing really exciting going on, huh?”
“No. I’ll call if I get anything.”
“Sure you will.”
He would if she could help him solve his case. “You got it. Maybe we could get together one night and have drinks.”
“Yeah, that would be nice,” she said. “Kinda busy right now, though. I’ll call you.”
He smiled as they hung up. They’d had the same conversation about getting together the last three times they had spoken.
Crook called about the mystery guests. “Hilda Wright has a home on White Street near Higgs Beach. I didn’t find a local residence for the Lange brothers, so I thought I’d check the hotels. I hit pay-dirt on the third one. They’re at the Hyatt, in a suite registered to Lars Lange. We probably should get with them first, since they might leave town.”
They met at the hotel. In the lobby, Dalton called the front desk and asked to be connected to the Lange suite.
A man picked up. “Is this Lars Lange?” Dalton asked.
“Yes, who’s calling?” He spoke with a slight European accent.
Dalton identified himself and asked if he could speak with him and his brother in person about Riley Gunn’s get-together the night before.
Lange hesitated, and then said, “How long will it take you to get here? We have a flight in two hours and haven’t completed packing.”
“We’re downstairs.”
“Okay come on up.” Lange gave him the room number.
A couple of minutes later, Dalton and Crook entered the suite and sat in easy chairs. The brothers introduced themselves and sat on a sofa facing the detectives. Lars appeared to be around forty, Stefan maybe five years younger.
“Can you tell me your business with Riley Gunn?” Dalton asked.
Lars frowned. “Why is my business with Mr. Gunn of any interest to the police?”
“Because Mr. Gunn was murdered sometime this morning, and we’re questioning everyone who attended the gathering at his home.”
Stefan gasped. After a pause, he said, “Well, I suppose we made this trip for nothing.”
Lars rolled his eyes. “We were wooing Riley for a record deal. It would have been a major coup for us. We’re a new label and haven’t signed anybody else so famous.”
He didn’t seem to care about the murder, only what impact it would have on his potential contract.
“Did Gunn say he would sign?” Dalton asked.
“He wanted to give it more thought. It would mean breaking ties with the producers of his previous albums, with whom he had grown dissatisfied.”
Dalton asked about the cocaine, and both brothers denied knowing anything about it. They said they had come straight to the hotel after leaving Gunn’s house, and had remained there ever since.
“What’s your traveling destination?” Dalton asked.
“We’re going home to Canada. Our office is located there.”
The detectives got the brothers’ phone numbers and left. Downstairs hotel security video corroborated the time they had arrived that morning, and didn’t show them leaving again.
****
“What do you think?” Dalton asked Crook. They sat at a table in a deli on North Roosevelt.
Crook took a bite of his sandwich and laid it down. After chewing for a few seconds, he said, “Doesn’t sound like we have a suspect yet. Casey and Coe alibi each other. The Lange brothers came here to work a deal, and had everything to lose by Gunn’s death.”
Nodding, Dalton said, “Maybe we should split up the list. I haven’t heard anything on the news yet about the murder, but it’ll hit anytime now, and we’ll be taking heat on finding the killer. Why don’t you take the other band member, Alan Sheffield, and
I’ll check out the Wright woman and Jimmy Earl, the drummer.” It was interesting that Earl had something else to do the night Gunn got murdered.
“Yeah, that’ll work. I have to be done by about four-thirty, though. We’re starting a gig at a bar tonight, and I need to go in early and set up.”
Dalton glanced at the time on his phone. “That gives you a few hours. You should be able to get it done by then.”
Crook gave him an expression that indicated he wasn’t so sure. “Yeah, if I find Sheffield at home.”
Dalton stared for a moment. “Okay, let me know if you can’t reach him in time, and I’ll get in touch with him myself.”
Crook’s eyes grew large. “Hey, I don’t mean to push off my work. I just have this thing….”
****
Hilda Wright didn’t answer her phone, so Dalton drove by her house. A gate stood out front, and palms, banana trees, and hibiscus obscured the façade and the garage. He drove up to the gate and pressed a speaker button. No response. Same thing when he tried again.
Sitting there at the gate, he punched in the number for Earl, the drummer. A man answered.
“Is this Jimmy Earl?”
“Depends on who’s asking.”
Dalton identified himself, and Earl said, “You find my car?”
“Sorry, that isn’t why I’m calling. You reported a stolen car?”
“Yeah, yesterday. I thought maybe it’d turned up.”
“I’ll be glad to check on it,” Dalton said, “but I need to ask you some questions about Riley Gunn. Is it convenient for me to come to your home?”
“Riley, huh? He in some kind of trouble?”
“You could say that.” The worst kind.
Someone in the background said, “Who is it?” A female voice. It sounded sleepy.
“I’m kinda busy right now,” Earl said to Dalton. “Can you give me a couple of hours?”
“Sure. 2:00 okay?”
“Yeah, see you then.”
A Mercedes pulled up behind Dalton’s car and blew the horn. Hilda Wright. He got out, paced back to the driver’s side, and held up his badge.
Wright lowered the window. “What is it? I’m in a hurry.” She had straight blonde hair, almost to her shoulders, and large blue eyes. An attractive woman.