Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6)

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Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) Page 23

by Rod Hoisington


  “Grant’s going to be governor of Florida one day. Couldn’t you just picture me in the Governor’s Mansion—playing First Lady would have been a walk in the park for an actress like me.”

  “Marriage to him will happen only in your dreams. You’re blind, Julie. Somewhere, somehow, you went blind.”

  The woman was quiet for a minute before saying, “Then please help me, Sandy.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  On the day after confronting Julia, Sandy returned to the office. As she came in Nigel asked her, “We heard you were meeting with Detective Jaworski this morning.”

  She shook her head and motioned for him to follow her back to Martin’s office. They made themselves comfortable and she continued, “I had hoped Eddy would go with me to talk to Mel about investigating Grant Keller. As it turned out, I managed to alienate him to the point where he actually turned his back on me and walked away. So I went over and talked to Mel myself and found that he’s also unwilling to help us.”

  Martin looked at her quizzically. “Start with Eddy.”

  She explained Eddy was well aware she’d been speaking with Julia Bardner and had yet to share any info with him, not on the Faulk shooting nor the Coleman case. She had intended to brief him on everything she learned—everything that didn’t interfere with the defense of Lester, of course. She had talked Julia into explaining her involvement, but her involvement amounted to a confession, and Sandy had to advise her to get a lawyer.

  “I told Eddy that Grant Keller was having an affair with Julia Bardner, and they were in a real estate scheme gone bad, which led to him telling her to get rid of Coleman. Even though he didn’t mean to go kill the guy, Julia sent lumbering Lester to scare Coleman away. After Coleman was shot, Keller’s reputation was threatened to the point he had to be certain Julia wouldn’t start talking. He knew that Julia would be in such a life-threatening position she’d be willing to turn state’s evidence. I explained we thought Keller had used a hired gun to kill her, Charlene gets the bullet by mistake, and Keller needs to try again. I had to inform Eddy that with her attorney on the scene, he wouldn’t be able to interrogate her. But my hope was the attorney would have her come forward with everything in return for a plea deal.”

  Nigel said, “Even I can see she needs her own attorney. She provoked her husband into going after Coleman and provided him with the murder weapon. She has to be guilty of something.”

  She nodded, “Either a case of conspiracy or accessory to murder. Anyway, Eddy accused me of crossing him and blocking him out of the investigation, which I guess I did even though it certainly wasn’t my intention. I said he’d be pleased with the result when it’s all played out. He didn’t want to hear any excuses. He said if he hadn’t allowed me to see Julia first, he could have talked with her and got considerable information from her before the thought of getting an attorney ever entered her head. He gave me one of those accusatory stares detectives save for criminals. After that, it was pointless to ask for his help in going after Keller.” She looked at Martin for approval.

  Martin agreed, “The details have to come from Julia’s attorney as soon as possible. If Keller gets named as a suspect in this, his attorney will tear her to pieces. That is, unless Keller does away with her first. Somehow you’ve managed to keep her cooperating.”

  “I hope she’s cooperating. My logic is trying to compete with her love for Keller. I can only hope she’ll follow through and indeed get an attorney. Eddy told me he was going out to interrogate Julia this morning. I begged him not to. She was truly on the edge. I calmed her and tipped her in our direction for her own good. She was fine when I left her last night. Yet, talking to the police might set her off. For the first time, Eddy turned his back on me. Told me to just go do my thing and not to bother him.” She leaned back in her chair. “So, I’ve screwed up that relationship, but I believe I’ve handled Julia properly. Sometimes people deserve a break. Sometimes people need a little forgiveness.”

  Nigel stood, and said, “And sometimes people deserve to go to jail.” He folded his arms across his chest. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown. “How can you ignore all this woman has done? If it wasn’t for her, Coleman and Charlene would both be alive.”

  “I agree she’s not blameless,” Sandy said. “Even so, Keller is the bad guy who must be taken down. Without his instigation to steal a million, Julia would not have needed to go after Coleman in the first place. She shouldn’t have done it, and perhaps I’m too sympathetic, but I see Julia as more of a victim.”

  “A victim of love,” Martin offered. “It would make a great song title.”

  “I left Eddy and went over and laid all this on Mel. If we could get him on our side, with all his state and federal law enforcement resources, I was certain everything would start going our way. We could then hand Eddy the Faulk shooting all wrapped up on a silver platter.”

  “Shapiro and Keller are not exactly buddy-buddy.” Martin said. “I’m interested to hear his reaction to your theory that the man is guilty of murder. Keller is one of the most prominent lawyers in south Florida. On the board of the local college and president of our county bar association as you know.”

  “It was the first Mel had heard of Keller’s involvement. He told me he really didn’t care about their affair, and everyone knows it’s normal for Keller to be juggling a dozen real estate deals at any one time. Eventually, one of them is bound to go sour and stink up the place. He told me that tagging the Faulk drive-by shooting on Keller doesn’t make sense. If Julia got into trouble, naturally he’d try to put distance between them. Even so, a man such as Keller would not murder his lover to keep her quiet. He’d simply deny everything and tag her as some sort of crazy woman. In short, Mel didn’t buy it and told me to pick on someone my own size.”

  Martin said, “I suppose the public might overlook a wheeler-dealer doing a questionable real estate deal. Even his affair with Julia might be forgiven under normal circumstances. Except Keller wasn’t facing a normal circumstance. Coleman’s murder will be thoroughly investigated. Make no mistake about it, in his mind Julia has to go. And if his hired gun had shot her as planned, we’d never know Keller was connected to any of it.”

  “I told him all that.” She had told Mel that Keller dumped Julia when the real estate scheme went bad. His parting words suggested he needed to erase all traces of their affair as though it never happened. He had plans to run for state senate. He’d certainly be afraid of her getting twisted out of shape and running to the press with what she knows in the middle of his campaign and flushing his political ambitions, and perhaps his life, down the sewer. He knows that the investigation of Lester in the Coleman case will bring her under oath.

  “Julia is a danger to him,” she continued. “Jilted lovers are like fired employees who leave the premises and show back up with a shotgun. He has to get rid of her, and he’ll try again.”

  Martin said, “I can see Shapiro’s point. It’s all too shaky and we’ve no proof. He needs more than just trusting you. He also has political plans to run for Florida State Attorney. If he goes after Keller he has to be certain he can nail him.”

  “That’s exactly what he said. He simply cannot send investigators out to dig into Keller’s affairs. His reputation as state attorney is at stake. He told me he wasn’t going to prosecute Keller for some screwy real estate deal by itself. Conspiracy to commit murder, yes. But first he needs evidence. Keller has too much political influence, too many important friends.”

  Nigel said, “It’s the classic, if you attack the King, you damn well better kill the King.”

  “So here’s what we have to deal with. The state attorney’s office will continue investigating Charlene’s murder, but refuses to target Keller as a suspect at this time. And he wants us to keep it quiet until we have more information.”

  “In other words, we have permission to make an omelet, as long as we don’t break any eggs,” Nigel observed.

  “And Sandy’s so
good at breaking eggs.” Martin smirked. “We have no official interest in the Charlene case, but a strong personal one. She was our friend and it appears that we’re the ones who have to get the goods on the most likely suspect.”

  She said, “And now we have to also worry about what Julia is liable to say to Eddy.”

  “If she talks about the Coleman case,” Martin said, “it could interfere with our defense of her husband, although her part in it will come out eventually anyway. It’s more critical to solve the Faulk murder. If she decides not get a lawyer and not to come clean, then the world may never know what Keller has been doing.”

  “This would be tough going even if we had law enforcement resources to help us. We’ll never catch Keller holding a smoking gun, he’s too smart. I believe we must focus on finding the shooter, and then try to connect him back to Keller.”

  “So now we’re hunting for a hired gun,” Nigel said, “and not a very sharp one at that considering he shot the wrong person. Keller certainly didn’t get his money’s worth.”

  “We’re starting from zero,” she said. “Grant Keller is a clever fellow. He could have brought in a hitman from someplace for a few hours, and then the guy’s gone forever.”

  “Chicago,” Nigel suggested. “Don’t you watch TV? Everyone knows hit men are always brought in from Chicago.”

  “Nigel, if I thought you weren’t joking, I’d say start checking on everyone from Chicago who flew in on the day Charlene was murdered, stayed one night and returned to Chicago,” she said.

  “We’ve been on our own before,” Martin said. “We’ll find a way to nail Keller for this.”

  She and Nigel walked to the front office, where he gave her the schedule for the day and handed her some pink call slips. He said, “You have no immediate crises.”

  “You’ve had a faraway look on your face ever since I first came in, Nigel. Where are you today?”

  “Miles away, sorry.”

  “Let’s step into my office for a minute.” She followed him in, closed the door and sat on the couch beside him. “It’s Charlene, isn’t it? I am so sorry that we haven’t talked. I haven’t stopped for a minute but that’s no excuse. You’re important to me and I should have taken time to talk. We could have grieved together. Even though my loss is a fraction of yours, I want you to know that Martin and I share your sorrow.” They were the closest thing to a family he had in the States.

  “I know you care and thank you. I’m good. It’s not as though I lost a lifelong friend. I knew her for only a few short hours. The real sadness is her life cut short.”

  “I think you’re downplaying your grief, but you do seem to be handling it well. I just thought you might need to talk with someone.”

  “I already had a long talk with Martin.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize that.” It hadn’t occurred to her that Martin might have done that, but she wasn’t surprised. “That’s great.”

  “Yes, that stormy night I stayed at his place. I had a bad night, but we talked the following morning… a marvelous talk, as though he could read my mind. I’m good. Thanks again, Sandy.”

  He stood and stepped to the door. “I’ve been in contact with this woman in the M.E. office, an assistant. I was concerned about how things were being handled over there. Charlene’s mother had been told her death was a drive-by shooting. She assumed they meant a random shooting. I suppose that’s okay, they weren’t close. She was to show up and claim the body, and I wanted to go meet her. The assistant just called and said the mother decided there was no reason for her to come to Park Beach personally and had made arrangements for the body to be shipped to Tampa.”

  “Well, it was good of you to check that all was done properly. Her mother would have loved knowing Charlene had friends such as you.” She noticed his eyes were now rimmed in red.

  He shrugged. “Grant Keller must pay severely.”

  She nodded. “He will.”

  “I tried to check on his whereabouts the night of the shooting.”

  “Great idea, but be careful snooping around. Remember Shapiro doesn’t want us to make any noises about Keller being a suspect.”

  Nigel went on, “I was hoping that some gun shop had a video of him buying a .45. No such luck, he was in Orlando.”

  “How’d you find that out?”

  “I called his office. Said I was on the club’s speaker’s committee and wondered why he hadn’t made a scheduled appearance. This woman didn’t even ask which club. She checked and said no speaking engagements were on his calendar, and he was at a meeting in Orlando and stayed over because of the storm. Very sorry, she was. She’d have him call me. What was my organization again? I said it was okay, I understood.”

  “Clever lad, I want Martin to hear this.” They walked back to his office. “Keller made certain he had an alibi,” she told Martin, “he was out of town when Charlene was shot.”

  Nigel told him what he’d learned.

  Martin said, “On that day, in the middle of a high-wind advisory and a severe thunderstorm forecast, he decided to drive right up into the center of the storm.”

  They were still in his office when suddenly they heard music coming from the front office.

  She asked Nigel, “You have music at your desk?”

  “Pomp and Circumstance,” Martin said, “is there a graduation ceremony taking place in our waiting room?”

  Nigel laughed. “It’s the ringtone on my phone.” He hurried up the hall and shortly came back studying his smartphone. “Oh, this is interesting. Holly Davies left a text message. It’s the address we needed for her mystery man, Bruce Fowler.”

  “She has your number?” Sandy asked.

  “We haven’t been texting if that’s what you’re thinking. When she stormed out of here last time, she asked for it. Said she didn’t want to call the office directly because she never wanted to speak to Martin again.”

  Sandy and Martin exchanged frowns, and then she said, “I thought we were through with her, or she was through with us, or something.”

  “I thought we’d never hear from her again,” Martin said, “Where does he live?”

  After looking down at his phone, Nigel answered, “Twenty-six eleven Hibiscus Lane, Unit 16.”

  “That’s on the barrier island,” Martin said, “not a bad address, maybe the guy’s rich after all. But that address isn’t a beach front condo. I always thought that guy was lying to her. At any rate, this has gone on long enough. Perhaps I should saunter over there and introduce myself.”

  She gave him a hard look, “What?” She couldn’t resist butting in.

  He went on, “I don’t care if I do upset Holly’s farfetched dream. I owe her that much and it’s beginning to interfere with my sleep.”

  She said, “I suspected it was still on your mind. Look, Martin, it might be a nice thing to do, but it’s none of your business, and she’ll hate you, if you shatter what she sees as a life-changing opportunity. This might be one of life’s lessons she has to learn for herself.”

  “You’re right, of course. I shouldn’t barge in. Nevertheless, perhaps I can come up with some pretense to talk with him—go over there and check him out without bringing Holly into it.”

  “You intend to purposely deceive the man?” she said. “Why, that would be sneaky and underhanded. Can I go with you? I want to take a look at this strange guy myself. My little red car or your long black one?”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The Shady Palms Apartments on Hibiscus Lane were located in blessed shade back among a thick stand of oaks. It appeared to be a nice place for Bruce Fowler to be living, but it certainly wasn’t an upscale beach front condo. The white stucco building was unexpectedly small. A neat eighteen units situated on two stories. Sandy and Martin walked up the exterior stairs at the end of the building, knocked on the door of Unit 16 and got no response.

  “Let’s do a ‘knock ‘n talk’ Martin. You take the ground level and I’ll keep trying up here.”


  Units 15 and 14 were No-Answer, unit 13 was a Door-Slammer, and 12 was opened by a pleasant looking gent of sixty years or so.

  “Oh, hello.” The smiling man appeared slightly surprised. “Well, get a load of who’s on my doorstep? A little early for campaigning isn’t it, the election is months away? Why don’t you come in? Sandy Reese, isn’t it?” He stepped back and held the door for her. He looked normal enough with his white polo shirt, tan shorts and sandals.

  “Close enough.” She stayed where she was. “Have we met? I was looking for your neighbor Bruce Fowler.” She waited to see what sort of response that brought forth.

  “Well, come in where it’s cool. No, we haven’t met. Call me Gene. Mind if I call you, Sandy? I recognize you from the newspaper and TV. Usually, you’re on the courthouse steps with the cameras rolling and a microphone shoved in your face. I can tell you, Fowler can normally be found in his apartment day or night. Doesn’t have a regular job. In case you’re watching for him, He drives a new blue pickup these days and always parks in back.”

  “Thanks, I believe I will come in.”

  He closed the door after her, motioned to the couch and offered iced tea. She thanked him and he swung around toward the kitchen.

  She called after him, “I didn’t realize I was famous.”

  “You looked somewhat startled when I recognized you. Perhaps you’re not genuinely famous, but you’re more well-known than you realize. Don’t you wonder why a crowd parts and stands back when you approach?”

  “Now you’ve gone too far.”

  “Okay, but every town has people who somehow everyone recognizes, although they might not remember the name. Then one day you wake up, and they’ve named a street after you. You’re one of those.” He brought in a frosty glass of tea and set it on a coaster. “I’m Gene Vaulter. So you’re not campaigning, and you looked very serious in mentioning Fowler. You’re on the clock aren’t you?”

  She said, “Are you ex law enforcement? Some cops say, ‘on-the-clock’, when they’re out of uniform but on duty.”

 

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