Playing the Devil

by R. J. Lee

  Carly looked confused at first but then shrugged. “I guess I understand. Well, I’ll leave figuring it all out up to you.”

  “Before we wrap this up, was there anything else you wanted to add to this interview?” Ross said.

  “Yes, there was.” Carly seemed to have acquired a second wind and spoke with certainty. Perhaps she was becoming more comfortable with the interview at last. “There was almost a fight between my husband and his golf partners, Tip Jarvis and Connor James. They’d all been drinking heavily after their golf game, and Brent revealed that my father-in-law had paid off all the officials to do whatever they could to make sure RHS won what became The Four-Second Game against St. Mark’s. The clock operator, Claude Ingalls, was the one who made that happen when he kept his thumb on the clock at the end of the game.”

  Ross whistled sharply. “Wow! Everyone in Rosalie knows about that game. You’re right—it is a legend in local sports. There were always rumors among the St. Mark’s folks that something fishy happened that night, but the RHS fans just said it was all sour grapes and there was nothing to it.”

  “Brent bragged about it to me all the time, but I never thought he’d actually admit to it publicly. I guess Tip and Connor got under his skin this afternoon.”

  Ross thought for a moment and said, “Miz Ogle, let me applaud you on your composure. I know this was a shock to you.”

  Now Carly was leaning in as if they were old friends. “Mr. Rierson, my husband was not a very pleasant man to deal with. I ought to know, but anyone can tell you that. He started out popular enough with everyone here in Rosalie because of his athletic prowess at RHS and LSU. But as the years went by, he let his ego run wild, and he rubbed in a lot of his courtroom victories as if he were still playing football games. He loved playing with people’s heads. I know he played with mine enough, and I have to tell you, it’s taken its toll.”

  Ross shut off his recorder and stood up. “Thank you, Miz Ogle. I think that’s enough for now. If we need to question you further, we’ll get in touch after we’ve checked out everyone’s DNA and fingerprints. And once again, please know that I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  As Carly stood up and he walked her to the door, she turned and said to him, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Rierson, but it wasn’t so much a loss as it was a relief for me. I don’t mind telling you that ours was not a happy marriage for a very, very long time. I didn’t kill my husband, but I should have left him a long time ago.”

  * * *

  Wendy was sitting across from Ross on Deedah’s floral print sofa, waiting for him to start his interrogation. He had just fingerprinted her and collected her DNA. She noted that the creases on his forehead had come out to stay and he kept moving his lips as if trying to confirm something in his head.

  “What is it?” she said finally. “You look like you’re trying to memorize the Pledge of Allegiance. You’ve even got your hand on your chest. Did you realize that?”

  He came to and pleasantly caught her gaze. “Do I?” He looked down and put his hand on the desk. “No, uh, I was trying to convince myself of a particular observation. I might as well let you in on it. Was it . . . or is it now your impression that Carly Ogle was and is not all that upset over her husband’s death?”

  Wendy considered for a moment and drew back slightly. “Is that what you really think? My impression is that she’s just in shock. I mean, who wouldn’t be, losing a spouse that particular way? The whole thing is so brutal.” She paused and chuckled under her breath. “Who knows, though? Living with a man like Brent Ogle was probably brutal, too.”

  Ross nodded, but his expression indicated he did not necessarily agree with her. “What I’d like to do is try and match up your details of what happened there in the hallway and out on the deck with Miz Ogle’s.”

  “You do understand that my perspective will be different from hers,” she said. “At least part of the time. We were together there at the end, but we were in two different places for a while.”

  “Precisely the point,” he said. “I want to see if there are any real discrepancies and go from there.”

  “Right. Who’s the detective here?” They both enjoyed a brief chuckle, and then Wendy added, “But you might as well know that while I was waiting for you to finish up with Carly Ogle, I did text Lyndell Slover about what was going on out here. First thing Monday, she and I will be discussing making this my next big investigative assignment. After all, I’ve been right in the middle of it from the get-go, and I’ve already gotten lots of inside info on the RCC since Deedah and I formed the new bridge club. It should make for an interesting article. Something with Murder in the title might fit the bill, I was thinking.”

  “That’ll be the headline in the Sunday paper. Old news by the time this feature of yours comes out. You’ll have to find a different angle.”

  Wendy pretended to take offense. “I beg your pardon. Lyndell will rein me in if I go too far, I assure you. I’ve never enjoyed working with someone so much in my life.” She displayed her crossed fingers. “Total symbiosis.”

  Ross’s smile diminished slightly. “So you will be playing detective in a manner of speaking? Just like you did last year during The Grand Slam Murders?”

  “I won’t be getting in your way, of course, but I’ll be happy to share any insights I can turn up as I interview certain people for the feature.”

  “You know what I think?” he began, leaning in and managing a wink. “You’re gonna end up being on the police force after all if you keep this up. Your daddy’ll be so pleased. Bax mentions it to me every now and then that he thinks that’s what you’re really up to. You know, that you’re skating around the edges of what he’s done all his life. Like father, like daughter.”

  “Ha! I’ve got my dream job now, and I intend to keep it. Anyway, let’s get on with this, shall we? You’ve got lots more people to interrogate.”

  “So I do.” He turned on the recorder again with an expectant expression. “All right then. Give me your version of you and Carly discovering the body. Start wherever you like.”

  Wendy straightened her posture, cleared her throat, and began. “Well, the five of us were—”

  “Wait. Who are ‘the five of us’?” he interrupted. “I need the specific names, of course.”

  “Oh, yes. Myself, Deedah Hornesby, her son, Hollis, Mitzy Stone, and Carly all went into Deedah’s office to discuss Brent Ogle’s behavior and what to do about it for the good of the RCC.”

  “Miz Ogle went in, too?”

  “Yes. I know for a fact that he had embarrassed her many times over here at the RCC. Brent Ogle spared no one.”

  “Where was Carlos?”

  “He stayed at the bar. I don’t think Deedah invited him to come along. Not sure why, because he was one of Brent Ogle’s biggest targets. I guess because he had drinks to serve to Brent and she didn’t want to make trouble for him.”

  “Understood. Did you get very far in your discussions?”

  Wendy shook her head emphatically. “Somewhat. We began by rehashing the altercation that Brent had instigated, and there were two different opinions about the best way to proceed, and then the power went off. That changed everything. Smartphones were the only illumination any of us had after that. Even the streetlamps in the parking lot weren’t working, and it was pitch-black outside. I remember that Deedah suggested we stay right where we were until the power came back on.”

  “And did everyone do that?”

  Wendy took her time, shifting her eyes trying to remember what had happened before the outage and what had come after. “I forgot that Hollis and Carly said they needed some air after a while and headed off together for the portico. That was before the power went off. Mitzy said she needed to do some paperwork in her office next door, also before the power went off.”

  “How long do you think this ‘after a while’ was? Five, ten minutes?”

  “Maybe closer to five? But as for me, I wasn’t about to si
t still in the dark a little later. I’d had some wine, and I had no way of knowing how long it would be until power was restored. So I intended to head off to the ladies’ locker bathroom with my phone. Carly came back in not long after that, and I asked her to go with me.”

  “Do you remember the time?”

  “It’s all running together now,” Wendy told him, looking exasperated with herself. “Maybe 6:21, 6:22? I keep seeing all kinds of numbers in my head now.”

  Ross was nodding and said, “So far, so good. Did you see anything or anyone on the way to the bathroom?”

  “Actually, we didn’t. But our eyes were locked on to our phones. Now that I think about it, we should have seen the light from Carlos’s phone at the bar, but I don’t remember it. If he’d been there, we would have spoken to him. We did run into him on the way back from discovering Brent’s body, though. He said something about being out on the portico to talk to his wife.”

  Ross looked puzzled and stopped the recorder. “Well, it seems the portico was quite popular tonight. Carlos and Hollis and Carly all out there at one time or another. Interesting.” Then he turned the recorder back on and pointed to Wendy. “Let’s pick up where we left off.”

  “Right, back to discovering the body. Carly and I didn’t stay together once we got to the locker-room door. Carly said she wanted to check on Brent out on the deck. She said it a bit begrudgingly, if you want my interpretation. She complained about him every time I saw her. So I spent the next couple of minutes in one of the stalls, and I have to say it was kinda creepy.”

  “I’ll bet it was.”

  “I heard all sorts of strange noises, mostly from the weather outside. But then, coming from inside, I heard a thudding sound, then a short little shriek—or maybe it was the other way around—and then the sound of someone running down the hallway. I was worried that Carly might have fallen and hurt herself. I finished up as fast as I could but met up with Carly in the doorway. She was looking like she’d seen the proverbial ghost and said she thought Brent was dead out in the hot tub. I pulled her inside to calm her down. Then, I took her by the hand, and we went out on the deck. I took one look at him and knew she was probably right about him being dead when I saw that gash.” Wendy paused and bowed her head slightly. “Oh, and I did reach down and touch his neck with my fingers, hoping for a pulse. If my fingerprints show up, that’s the reason.”

  “Everything you’ve said so far checks out with everything Carly told me,” Ross said. “But I do want to ask you about the footsteps you heard. Did they have a distinctive sound? Loud or soft?”

  Wendy was surprised by the question and cocked her head. “Now that you ask me that, I have to say that I couldn’t give you a definitive answer. They just . . . sounded hurried.”

  “Like high heels, perhaps?”

  “No. Not like that. Definitely not. I know the sound of heels.”

  “Okay. Anything else you’d like to add to the events of the afternoon?”

  “Yes, quite a bit. Brent Ogle insulted practically everyone in the RCC great room today, except me. And I’m not even sure about that. He probably mumbled something about me under his breath while he was doing all that drinking over by the bar. His reputation for rudeness preceded him and was justly deserved. At the end of his testosterone display today, he threatened Deedah with the withdrawal of his funding of the RCC, and if you ask me, I think he was serious about it. I’m not sure they could run the place without his contributions. He wasn’t getting his way like he used to when William Voss ran things for him. He bitterly resented Deedah becoming the director and treated her like a stranger off the street, he didn’t like Mitzy Stone being hired as the golf pro, and he even complained to Deedah once to the effect that the RCC was becoming a hideout for sissies like her son and all her gossiping biddy friends. He was a man who never minced words. His mouth cut like a machete.”

  Ross’s jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. “That’s quite a mouthful in itself. I’m surprised someone didn’t knock him off long before now.”

  “Offhand, I’d say he tempted fate once too often.”

  Ross checked his phone for the time and said, “Appears that way. Well, I think that’s all I need from you right now, sweetie. Have Ronald Pike send Carlos Galbis in when you go out, will you?”

  They met each other at the door and embraced, followed by Ross giving Wendy a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be more than happy to,” she said, looking back over her shoulder as she walked out.

  * * *

  A little over an hour later, Ross finally finished interrogating, fingerprinting, and collecting DNA from everyone. After that, he continued to sit at Deedah’s desk and make a sketch of the interior of the RCC, placing an X where all eight people had said they were during the blackout period. Although his sketch was no blueprint masterpiece, it was clear to him that the case was not going to be easy to solve—barring something conclusive turned up by DNA or fingerprints. He knew Wendy had not committed the murder; and if Carly had not done so, either—despite her lack of emotion regarding her husband’s death and remarks about her marriage—then someone else had to have been sneaking around at some point during the outage to get to Brent Ogle. He began reviewing in his head the highlights of the rest of his interrogations, playing back snippets of his recordings when needed.

  Carlos Galbis, for instance, had presented a time quandary of significance. “I was having trouble getting a signal to call my wife from the bar,” he had said at one point. “That sometimes happens because that part of the roof interferes. So, I was at the bar most of the time, but I also went outside for a little while to get a better signal under the portico. I probably need to get a newer phone.”

  Ross listened to the ensuing recorded sequence with great intensity. “And did you get a stronger signal?”

  “Eventually. I told my wife everything that was happening,” Carlos had said.

  “Do you remember what time that was?”

  “I remember saying some not so nice things to my phone when it just wouldn’t cooperate with me at the bar as usual. I was able to get through once, and I actually heard my Elena saying hello. But then the call dropped. I want to say when I headed out to the portico, it was around six-twenty. But I didn’t pay much attention to the time after that because I was so happy to get through to her to see if she was all right. I also didn’t want her to worry about me being late. She always likes to know where I am.”

  It did not take long for Ross to conclude that Carlos would be brought in for further questioning. The murder weapon had surely been the pestle that Carlos routinely used to make his famous concoctions. Who would have had better access to it than he? Yet the revelation that he had left the bar for a decent period of time also opened up the possibility that someone else could have gotten to it and used it to off Brent Ogle. Unfortunately, the power outage would have enabled that to happen. Without that, it would not have been as easy.

  Ross advanced his recorder to Deedah’s interview.

  She claimed she had remained in her office after the great room altercation until Wendy and Carly had arrived later to deliver the disturbing news about Brent; but her tone on the tape suddenly rose a decibel or two, and Ross recalled the sour face she had made at that point in the interview.

  “Everyone was complaining about my office being stuffy, including my son. So I can’t account for his whereabouts the whole time, or Carly’s, or Mitzy’s, or even Wendy’s. They all abandoned me at some point to go elsewhere—porticos, offices, bathrooms, you name it. They were all scattered to the wind.”

  Then Ross played the sequence about the altercation near the bar. “Yes, it’s true. After the brawl was over—if you want to call it that—Brent Ogle did threaten to withhold his financial contributions to the RCC,” Deedah had said.

  “Did you believe he would?” Ross had said next.

  “So much so that I told everyone to convene in my office—this very one we’re in right now—to come up with a plan of acti
on. I was not about to let him hold the RCC hostage like that. No one puts a gun to my head like that. I wasn’t going to sit idly by and let that happen.”

  “Yes, Miz Ogle and Wendy have already mentioned that to me. So you were plenty fed up with Brent Ogle, is that right?”

  “Everyone was. He was the Devil, himself.”

  “Interesting choice of words.”

  “I’m a firm believer that when you end up playing the Devil on his own terms, you always lose. You have to be smart about it in just the right way. Brent Ogle was the sort of man that brought out the worst in people. There was an aura he had that was nothing short of destructive. So you have to come up with a strategy of your very own to win out.”

  Ross rewound and listened to Deedah’s phrasing again: “. . . when you end up playing the Devil on his own terms, you always lose. . . .”

  Ross paused the recorder. He couldn’t seem to get those words out of his head. Exactly what strategy had Deedah been contemplating? Had it been emerging over a long period of time, or was it spontaneous and possibly executed during the blackout?

  Next up, Ross listened again to his questioning of Hollis Hornesby. Particularly of interest was Hollis’s admission that he had left his mother’s office to get some air.

  “It’s because Mother doesn’t have a window in here, as you can see,” he was saying. “It really does get stuffy. I’m surprised you aren’t yawning yet. If you ask me, I think it puts Mother to sleep half the time. That’s why it takes her longer to do everything. I don’t know why they didn’t put at least one window in here. They bothered to put them everywhere else, like around the great room and next door in the pro shop. Who designed this place—a drunken monkey? But anyway, the time I spent under the portico revived me, as it did Miz Carly, since she was with me for a while. Then when we had that power outage, she went back in first.”

  “But you stayed?”