by V. B. Tenery
Trudging into the shower, he willed the heat to resolve his body’s confusion but knew it was a pipedream.
At eight-thirty, he pulled into Turner’s driveway and honked. Turner emerged moments later with a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of dry whole wheat toast in the other.
Turner reached inside, placed her cup in the holder, then sat down and slammed the car door, making the coffee dance in the cup. “You feel as bad as I do?”
Davis looked over at her. “Yeah, but I’ll live.”
“Do we have a choice?”
Davis shook his head. “Not really.”
Turner opened the napkin took a bite of toast. “We’re meeting with the chief first thing?”
“Yeah. I want to lay our theory on him.”
Mouth full, Turner mumbled. “It’s a reasonable assumption. I think he’ll at least consider it.”
“We’ll see.”
Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
Matt stood in the entryway as his two weary detectives entered the building. He motioned them back to his office. “Have a good flight?”
“We had a long flight,” Turner said.
Matt sat at his desk, and leaned back in the chair. “So what’s the brainstorm you two had while you were Down Under?”
Davis reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a photograph, and handed it to Matt.
He studied the snapshot for a moment. “Who’s this?”
Davis leaned forward. “It’s a photo of Alexander Grayson and Trevor Nelson.”
“Which one is Nelson?”
“You’ve met Alexander. What do you think?”
Matt’s chair snapped upright. “I can’t tell. This is your theory? That Nelson killed Alexander and the Grayson family, and he’s taking Alexander’s place?”
Davis gave a solemn nod. “Except he didn’t kill Alexander. There were a dozen witnesses to the accident. Probably just took advantage of the accident to take Alexander’s place. Thing that bothers me though, is why didn’t his uncle recognize him?”
“Because Ian hasn’t seen Alexander since they were boys. They lived on different continents.” Matt tapped the photograph and looked from Davis to Turner. “That’s brilliant. Outstanding work. And it will be easy to check for a DNA match.”
He shifted back into his chair again. “Can’t make an accusation until we’re sure. With a man in jail who had the murder weapon, proving he isn’t the killer won’t be easy. I can get Alexander’s DNA without his permission, but couldn’t use it in court. I think that will be a moot point. We don’t need the DNA to prove he murdered the Grayson’s, only to prove he isn’t who he says he is. Once we’re sure he’s Nelson, we can get fingerprints to prove his real identity.”
Davis brushed imaginary lint from his trousers. “We’re already on it. I’ve asked for a copy of his UK passport. His has the RFID chip, but it’s the old style without fingerprints.
“We shipped some more of Nelson’s stuff here from Alice Springs by priority mail. Should arrive in a day or two.”
“As an aside,” Matt said. “McCulloch did a mouth swab on Jack McKinnon. He was the father of Victoria Grayson’s baby. No surprise there.”
“There’s another matter I want you two to look into. Someone in the station is feeding information to the mayor. We need to find out who it is and stop it.”
Davis cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
“After we returned from the morgue, Hall confronted me about the misidentification of Victoria Grayson’s body.”
“Could it be someone in the morgue?” Davis asked.
Matt shook his head. “There have been other things that could only have come from here. Just keep your eyes open. See if anyone looks suspicious.”
When Turner and Davis had gone, Matt strolled down the hall to the crime lab.
McCullough looked up. “Hey, Chief.”
Matt pulled up a stool. “I need to get enough DNA to determine paternity of an adult male. You need to know this is a clandestine operation.”
“That probably means a mouth swab is out of the question.”
“You’re quick.”
McCulloch gave him a lopsided grin. “I live to serve. Get me hair samples with the root attached to the hair shaft or something he drank from. That should do it.”
The lab chief scrunched his face in a thoughtful frown. “Unless the person you use has experience gathering evidence, bring me a comb or brush. Without gloves, removing the samples might contaminate or possibly destroy the hair follicle. I’d rather err on the side of caution. You don’t want to have to do this twice.”
Matt slapped him on the back. “You got it. Later.”
McCulloch’s phone rang and he snatched it up. He listened for a moment before he placed the receiver on the base. “Emily Castleton is waiting in your office.”
***
Matt left the lab and found Emily already seated in front of his desk. She looked better than she did at the wake. Not so thin and the circles under her eyes had vanished.
“Hi, Em. Here for our meeting?”
She nodded and sat up straighter in the chair. “I also want to talk to you about Jack McKinnon.”
Matt took the chair beside her. “What about him?”
She paused for a moment. “I’m pretty sure, no, I’m positive Jack wasn’t the man who shot me.”
He waited for her to continue.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about that night while I lay in the hospital, and after I came home. Actually, I’ve thought of little else. I would have known if the man was Jack, just like I realized it wasn’t Peter.”
She leaned toward him, her gaze searching his face. “I have no proof, but remember, I grew up with Jack. He couldn’t have killed the Graysons and my mother.”
“You’re positive the guy at the mall wasn’t the shooter? He would look different dressed in hunting gear.”
Emily shook her head. “I’m positive it wasn’t him.”
Moving to the edge of the chair, she looked into Matt’s eyes. “Can you arrange for me to visit Jack?”
“I can. May I ask why?”
“I just need to talk to him, to ease my own mind.”
He didn’t press her. Jack might open up more to her than with him or Sean. “Now that that’s settled, would you be interested in doing me a favor?”
“If it involves the death of my mother, I’ll do anything to help.”
“Don’t volunteer before you hear what I want.”
“Is it legal?”
Matt chuckled. “Of course it’s legal. The chief of police wouldn’t ask you to commit a crime. However, it could be considered somewhat unethical.”
“Okay, I’m in.”
“I can’t tell you why at the moment, but I need you to take a hairbrush or comb from Alexander’s room and bring it to me. It must have hair samples. Otherwise, it’s no good. I would ask for a cup he drank from, but the servants are too quick at picking up used china, and would notice if a cup went missing. I don’t want anyone to know what you’re doing.”
Her eyebrows pulled together forming a wrinkle above her nose.
He shook his head. “Find out what kind of brush or comb he uses first. Buy a new one to replace it. And be careful.”
***
After Emily left, Matt walked to the window and stared at the clouds forming in the western horizon. He would rather have assigned the hairbrush task to Ian, but he was defensive where the family was concerned, and he might tip off Alexander.
Emily needed to leave Grayson Manor, soon. If Davis and Turner’s theory held up, the man only invited Emily there so he could keep an eye on her.
And he had quite possibly tried to kill her twice.
Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
Matt studied the report on his desk, then he picked up the phone and called Judith Bittermann. “Judge, Matt Foley. I have the results back on Jack McKinnon’s
lie detector test.”
“So he agreed to the test. Did he pass?”
“Yes, as far as the murders are concerned, but he’s hiding something,” Matt said. “Something to do with Victoria. Could just be his guilt about her pregnancy.”
“Okay, I need to talk to him. He must understand that keeping secrets from his attorney can get him convicted.”
“You can see him anytime at your convenience. You can speak to him at the city jail or I can bring him in to one of our interview rooms.”
She laughed. “I’ll see him at the jail. You have eavesdropping equipment in those interview rooms. As you well know, what he tells me is privileged. I can’t share anything with you without his permission and I would strongly advise him against that.”
“Understood. You can have the pleasure of firing his public defender.”
Lucy Turner’s Home
Twin Falls, Texas
Standing in front of the full length mirror, Lucy Turner admired her reflection. It had been so long since she’d felt good about herself.
Davis had come through for her. She got the job, and tonight was her first night at the club.
The black dress and shoes Sierra loaned her fit like peach skin. Nothing like the old dress in her closet. The expert cut of the fabric draped across her hips in perfect folds and whispered around her knees, enhancing her new slimmer figure. She had never looked so good.
Getting paid to wear fabulous clothes and mingle with society was a dream come true and the extra money would end her financial woes. Maybe even allow money for saving. But she was wise enough to know it wouldn’t be all roses. The only difference between the rich and the poor was better clothes, often better manners, and the amount in their bank account. Evil knew no social barriers.
She’d finally convinced her mother to move in with her. After Lucy’s father passed away last year, Belle was left alone. Her two older sons were career Army and were never in one place for long. No need for her mom to remain in Oklahoma alone. She was in the process of selling her home. It was also safer for Lucy and the boys to have her mother here. There was always the possibility that Hank, Lucy’s ex, might try to find her through Belle.
Charlie bounded into her room, the ever-present basketball in his hand. He stopped, his tennis shoes seemingly rooted in the carpet. “Mom, you look hot!”
She smiled at his reflection in the mirror. “Thanks, sweetheart, but you’re prejudice.”
Mack walked in and stood beside his brother. “No he’s not, Mom. You look like a movie star.”
“Awww, that’s so sweet, Mack. It’s great to have my own fan club.” She walked across the floor and kissed them both. They were at the age where she wasn’t allowed to show affection in public. “You guys take care of Nana.”
Car lights flashed across her front window. That would be Davis. She smiled to herself. He’d told her she couldn’t have Élan’s valet service park her Junker.
Davis met her in the driveway and held the car door open, a grin on his face. “Turner, you look amazing. Who would have thought it?” He laughed out loud. “The pundits are wrong, Sierra did make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”
She had to grin. “Watch your mouth. You do remember I have a gun in my purse, don’t you?”
Still laughing at his own joke, he closed her door, walked around the back of the car, and slid into the driver’s seat.
She surveyed the sleek leather interior of the car. “You have a Mercedes?”
“Yes, I worked hard and earned it. Paid for it with my own money, not a government handout or taxpayer money.” He turned the key and the engine purred to life. “Am I going to have to listen to your redistribution-of-wealth-sermon all the way to the club?”
“I’ll try to restrain myself.”
“It’s about time.” He pulled onto the street and headed north. “A few tips before we arrive. It’s your life, but I’d advise you to steer clear of Benoit. He’s a player. He goes through women like the government goes through our tax dollars.”
“The manager? He certainly oozes Gallic charm.”
“You can’t say you weren’t warned. Your hours are 10:00 PM-3:00 AM. You’ll work Fridays and Saturdays. Benoît may also want you in on some holidays or if something special is going on at the club. If so, you get a bonus.”
“Not to worry, Daddy. I’m a big girl, and Giles Benoît is not my type. Is Ben Stein working tonight?”
“Stein also works weekends and holidays. I work every night they’re open unless I get someone to replace me.”
Élan Club
Las Colinas, Texas
The valet opened their doors and took Davis’ car keys. Stein pulled up behind them and handed over his Escalade to another valet. With his styled, salt and pepper grey hair, and dark fitted business suit, he looked like a GQ model. He stood at the entrance and stared at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You clean up real good, Detective. I almost didn’t recognize you.” He gave her an appreciative onceover. “You should never hide those legs in a pantsuit.”
She slid her arm in his. “You don’t look bad yourself, Sergeant.”
“You ever need a ride to work, let me know. I come right by your place.”
“And how do you know where I live, Stein?”
He laughed. “Oops. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I was one of Santa’s helpers last year. I swing a mean paint brush.”
Davis growled. “Okay, kids, let’s get this mutual admiration society inside and to work.”
For the first two hours, Lucy chatted up the clientele. Around twelve o’clock, she went to the bar for a glass of ginger ale, when she spotted a situation developing.
Benoit permitted the waitresses to come into the club on their night off provided they dressed like the guests and behaved appropriately. Lucy had talked to Donna, one such waitress who was taking advantage of the club manager’s offer tonight. Said she needed a night away from her baby boy and her mother had agreed to babysit. Her husband was doing a tour in Afghanistan. She’d been downing martinis all evening and was practically making out on the dance floor. Her friend Donna’s dance partner had come in earlier with a distinguished looking older man who introduced himself as Bryce Simpson when she had led him back to the card room.
Hoping to stop the train wreck without jeopardizing her job, Lucy took the stairs up to the card room in search of the older man.
The gambling area was on the second floor, and although women sat in from time to time, it was essentially an elegant man-cave. High ceilings held graceful chandeliers, the carpet was deep and forest green, dark paneling on the walls and a wood burning fireplace was the room’s focal point. Six card tables were staged along the walls with comfortable leather chairs. Sound proofing silenced the dance music from the club. A small well-stocked mahogany bar nestled in the corner. That’s where she found the man she was looking for.
She gave him her most engaging smile. “Mr. Simpson, may I speak to you privately?”
“Of course, my dear.” He set his drink on the bar and followed her into the elevator.
They reached the ground level, the elevator doors slid open, and they stepped out. “I hope you won’t think me presumptuous, but I need your help with a situation.” She inclined her head towards the dance floor and his cool blue gaze followed her direction. He watched his friend and Donna for a second and winced. “I see. I apologize for my friend. He should know better.”
She smiled her thanks, relieved that he understood. “I don’t usually interfere but the young woman is the wife of an Army Captain in Afghanistan. She’s lonely and she’s had too much to drink. I’d appreciate it if you would call your friend off. I’ll put her in a taxi and send her home.” And give her a piece of my mind the next time I see her, Lucy thought.
He squeezed her arm. “Say no more, my dear. We must take care of our servicemen’s families while they are keeping us safe. I’ll see to the problem immediately.”
And he did.
Davis stood nearby. When she passed he whispered, “Nicely done, Turner. There may be hope for you yet.”
As she made her way through the club, the club manager, Giles Benoit, passed her accompanied by a handsome man with thick, collar length, blond curls. Giles winked at her and led the guest upstairs.
Lucy found Davis standing at the end of the main bar on the ground floor. “Did you see who just headed to the card room with our boss?”
Davis shook his head. “I wasn’t paying attention. Who?”
“Alexander Grayson. He isn’t spending a lot of time grieving, is he?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Twin Falls Baptist Church
Twin Falls, Texas
As the bus pulled away from the church after services to take the children home, Emily Castleton relaxed against the seat and stared out the window. She had put Chief Foley’s request on hold. What he’d asked of her invaded her thoughts. She had to deal with it. She’d agreed to help.
Her meeting with Jack had been disheartening. He looked terrible. The orange jumpsuit he wore made him look thinner and lines had formed around his eyes and mouth. Jack swore he had nothing to do with her mother and the Grayson’s deaths. And she believed him. But she was no closer to finding the real killer.
Ian stood and shouted at her from behind the driver. “Okay, Em, which side do you want?”
She forced a smile and stood, holding on to the seats as she made her way to the front of the moving bus. “The winning side, of course.”
He shook his head. “You can’t be on my team, so choose right or left.”
Emily slapped his shoulder. “You are so going down. I’ll take the right.”
Two teenage helpers in the back separated the kids into equal numbers on each side of the bus, ensuring the younger children were equally distributed.
Ian yelled above the roar of the traffic and kids. “Let the games begin. We’re going to play pass the Bible. Most of you have played this game before and know the rules, but in case some of the new kids haven’t, I’ll go over them once more.”