Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8

by William Manchee

CHAPTER 6

  THE INTERROGATION

  On Wednesday morning I had a couple of hearings in Criminal Court #2 and then went to the clerk's office to file Cheryl's divorce petition and application for a temporary injunction. The judge signed the TRO and set a hearing on the application for an injunction for the following Tuesday. I figured by then I'd have enough evidence to get a favorable ruling. When I got back to the office, Jodie advised me I had a call from Detective Besch at the Dallas Police Department. Besch was a friend of Stan's. Why would he be calling me? I picked up the telephone.

  "Paula, I'm so glad I caught you."

  "Oh. What's up?"

  "Listen, this is unofficial. You didn't hear this from me, okay?"

  "Sure. What is it?"

  "There's a lady down here who's being questioned about the disappearance of her husband and she's been throwing your name around."

  "Me. Why?"

  "She says you're her divorce lawyer."

  A chill darted down my spine. I only had one divorce client.

  "You've got Cheryl Windsor down there?"

  "Yes. I'm afraid so."

  "What did she do?"

  "Her husband has disappeared. Detective Perkins is trying to find out if she knows anything about what happened to him."

  "Disappeared? How long has he been gone?"

  "Since Monday. He's just suddenly vanished off the face of the Earth."

  "Does Perkins suspect foul play?"

  "Yeah. That's what he's thinking. Apparently she had a pretty big insurance policy on him."

  "So, they're married. That's not unusual."

  "Maybe, maybe not. If she's your client, I'd get down here. You know what a prick Perkins can be."

  "Right. I'm on my way. Thanks for the heads up."

  "If they ask you how you found out your client had been brought in for questioning, just tell them the maid told you. She was there when Perkins grabbed her."

  "Got it. Thanks again. I owe you one."

  Detective Besch had really gone out on a limb by calling me. Perkins would have his badge if he ever found out. I knew Stan and Besch had become good friends, but this was totally unexpected. I quickly packed up my briefcase and headed for the police station. Perkins wasn't happy when I advised him I wanted to see my client.

  "She's not under arrest," he said. "We're just asking her a few questions."

  "Fine. I need to talk to her for a few minutes before you continue."

  "Why?" Perkins barked.

  "Because I do. That's why. And if I let you question her further, I want to be there when you do it."

  Perkins gave me a dirty look and then shook his head. He pointed to an open door. "She's in there. Make it fast."

  I nodded. As I walked in, I saw Cheryl seated in a chair in front of a big metal desk. The room was cluttered with dusty books, files, stacks of paper, and a week's worth of dirty coffee cups. Cheryl stood up when she saw me. "Paula. Oh, thank God! How did you find out I was here?"

  "Luckily we have a few friends around who keep us informed. So, what's going on?"

  She sighed and gave me a grim look. "I don't know exactly. Like I told you yesterday, I took the kids over to the house on Friday to be with Martin for the weekend. He brought them over to my place on Sunday night. That's the last time I remember seeing him, but like I told you, I must have gone back on Monday because I found all the surveillance equipment in the trunk of my car Tuesday morning."

  "You still can't remember anything that happened on Monday?"

  "I remember getting up, fixing breakfast for the kids, and taking them to school. Then I went to the beauty salon to get my hair done. It was lunch time when I left. I remember worrying about how I was going to retrieve the cameras and bugs. I guess I must have gone over there but I don't remember a thing after leaving the salon."

  "Do you have any idea what happened to your husband?"

  "No. I swear to God. I have no clue."

  "What have you told Perkins?"

  "Just what I told you. I haven't seen Martin since Sunday night when he returned the kids after their weekend visitation."

  "What about his office? Did you try calling him there?"

  "Yes, but nobody there has seen him since Monday morning either."

  "So, I heard you have a big insurance policy on Martin's life."

  She shrugged. "Yeah. Martin wanted to be sure the kids were taken care of if something happened to him. His agent recommended a million-dollar policy, so Martin bought it."

  Cheryl's explanation seemed a little self-serving. I doubted it was Martin who insisted on the big policy. If I'd learned anything about Martin, it was that he was selfish and inconsiderate. It would have been out of character for him to buy a big insurance policy. Guys like him figured they'd never die. Despite what Cheryl said, I was quite sure she had insisted on the policy. That didn't mean she killed her husband, but it did mean she was lying to me.

  "Has Martin ever disappeared like this before?"

  "No. He always tells me when he's going to be away."

  "So, you have no idea where he might be?"

  "No, swear to God."

  "Because if you had anything to do with Martin's disappearance, I couldn't let Perkins question you."

  "I didn't. Frankly I'm worried about him. I know we're getting a divorce, but I still have feelings for him. I don't want my children to grow up without a father."

  Cheryl seemed sincere, but I wasn't a 100 percent convinced she knew nothing about his disappearance. I was tempted to tell Perkins she had nothing to say to him, but I figured that would just intensify his interest in Cheryl as a suspect. I found Perkins and told him Cheryl was ready to chat. He showed us to an interrogation room where Cheryl and I sat across from him.

  "Has your husband mentioned having any business problems?" Perkins asked.

  "No. He never discusses his business with me."

  "You must know something about his business?" Perkins pressed.

  "I know he invests in various ventures—resort properties mainly. I don't know the specifics."

  "Are there employees or business associates we could talk to?"

  Cheryl nodded. "Bernard Lansdale is his administrative assistant. He used to come over to the house a lot. I've heard him mention Marvin Greenberg from time to time too. I think he's a lawyer."

  "Anybody else?"

  "He has a secretary—Gloria Fellows. She answers the telephone when I call his office. That's about it."

  "Do you know of anyone who might want to harm your husband?"

  "No. But Martin was a very aggressive businessman. He has no qualms about taking advantage of someone if they let him. I'm sure he has a long list of enemies."

  "Do you have any names?"

  "No. Like I said, Martin doesn't talk business with me. He's always been very secretive about what he was doing. If he did tell me about anything it was always in generalities and he never mentioned actual names or places."

  "You and your husband are separated?" Perkins asked.

  "Yes. We're in the process of getting a divorce."

  "How's that going?"

  "Well, okay, I guess. We're working things out."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  "I beg your pardon," Cheryl said indignantly.

  "Well, you just filed an application for a TRO, didn't you?"

  "That's just standard practice," I interjected.

  Perkins looked over at me. "Is it standard practice to allege infidelity and mental cruelty?"

  "Well, not always," I replied. "But in this case it was appropriate."

  Perkins leaned forward. "Isn't it true you and your husband were in a bitter divorce and that he was threatening a custody battle if you messed with any of his business interests?"

  Cheryl shook her head."It wasn't all that bitter. Obviously he wasn't anxious to give me everything I wanted, but I fully expected him to eventually agree to a reasonable settlement."

  "You know, if he was cheatin
g on you, I could understand if you got pissed off and decided you'd had enough."

  "Okay," I said. "Now you're talking like she's a suspect. If you have any more questions that will help you find Martin, that's fine. Otherwise, we're out of here."

  Perkins sat back in his chair. "Okay. I guess I'm done for now. But don't leave town, Mrs. Windsor. We may have more questions for you as the investigation progresses."

  As we left the police station, I suggested we get a cup of coffee at a diner across the street. She agreed and I spent the next hour with her delving deeply into her relationship with Martin Windsor. Since Martin had disappeared, I needed to learn more about him in order to help find him, or defend Cheryl should he turn up dead. She told me they had met on a flight from Dallas to New York. He was going there on business and she was making her annual visit to her sister who lived in New Jersey. They hit it off and he asked her if he could take her to dinner one night. That was the beginning of their relationship. They almost broke it off when she found out Martin was married, but he insisted that marriage was over. After his divorce, they got married and lived happily for several years. Eventually, however, Martin got caught up in his business affairs and spent little time with Cheryl. He did manage to get her pregnant, however, and when she told him he was going to be a father again his attitude drastically changed. Suddenly he had to be with her every minute to be sure she was happy and safe.

  Martin's sudden concern for Cheryl once she became pregnant, intrigued me. Did Martin really love his children that much? It seemed out of character from what Cheryl had told me. I decided to explore that angle to see where it led. I started by asking about her pregnancy and delivery.

  "Martin insisted I go to a private facility for prenatal care and the delivery. He said he didn't trust the doctors and staff at the other hospitals around town."

  "What was the name of the facility?" I asked.

  "The Ujhazi Institute. It's on Loop 12 west of Preston Road."

  "Hmm. I'm not familiar with it."

  "It's run by another Hungarian, Dr. Laslo Ujhazi."

  "Really? Did they take good care of you?"

  She nodded. "Well, there were complications. I had to have a C-section. I was in a lot of pain, so they kept me pretty doped up most of the time. I really don't remember much about either of my deliveries."

  It seemed incredible to me that Cheryl couldn't remember anything about the delivery of her children, but maybe she was right and they had doped her up so much it clouded her memory.

  "Hmm. Well, I guess you were lucky. Childbirth can be an extremely traumatic experience, I've been told."

  "Yes, I was expecting the worst but it turned out not to be so bad. I'd definitely recommend the place."

  "Is there somewhere your husband would go if he wanted to get away for a while? Did he have a favorite getaway?"

  "He loved big cities—New York, Boston, San Francisco. His business ventures often required him to travel to these places. But when we traveled for pleasure, he always wanted to go to Las Vegas."

  "Really? Did he like to gamble?"

  "Yes, and he was very good at it. In fact, on several occasions he was winning so much we were asked to leave the casinos. One of them accused him of card counting."

  "Was he a card counter?"

  "I don't know. He wouldn't talk about it. He is a very smart man—great with numbers. I guess it's possible. But it wasn't just the gambling that he liked. He was fascinated by the bright lights and the nonstop action. We'd go to all the shows and play all the casinos. We rarely slept and I'd be so exhausted when we returned that I'd have to take a couple days off just to recuperate."

  "Sounds like you two had a lot of fun."

  Cheryl sighed. "We did. I miss those days."

  After our talk at the diner, I went back to the office. When I walked in, Jodie advised me that I'd received an urgent call from Detective Perkins. It bothered me that Perkins had already called. That could only mean he'd found something incriminating against Cheryl. At my desk, I dialed his number, and held my breath. He answered on the first ring.

  "Perkins."

  "Detective. This is Paula Waters."

  "Oh, yes. Thanks for returning my call. I just thought you should know that your client hasn't been entirely honest with us."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "She told us she hadn't been at Mr. Windsor's place since Friday, but we just interviewed a neighbor who saw her there Monday afternoon."

  "Really? Well, technically speaking she said she hadn't seen Martin on Monday. She didn't say she didn't go to the house. She might have said she didn't remember going by the house, but—"

  "Oh, I think she remembers it quite well. In fact, she must have spent hours cleaning the place. The lab boys say it's the cleanest crime scene they've ever seen. They didn't find a single fingerprint, not one fiber, and no hair even on the hair brush. She must have boiled the toothbrushes because there wasn't a single trace of saliva on any of them. Even the sheets were clean like they were just out of the package."

  "Well, Martin or anyone could have cleaned up the place."

  "Nobody else was seen there."

  "So you say, but I bet your witnesses weren't watching the house every minute. You really have nothing. There's no body and you have no evidence that incriminates my client."

  "That's true. Your client is clever. I'll admit that, but I just wanted to let you know we're going to nail her anyway. She's not going to get away with cold-blooded murder. I don't care how good she is at cleaning up a crime scene—I won't rest until she's behind bars. You understand?"

  Perkins' dramatic attempt to intimidate me would have almost been comical had the stakes not been so high. Perkins was a tenacious asshole and his promise to put Cheryl behind bars was no idle threat. He'd probably devote every waking hour to find the evidence he needed to put Cheryl away for twenty years to life, and he'd have an entire detective staff at his disposal to get the job done. I had my work cut out for me.