“With this case,” Derek remarked, “there’s everything to worry about.”
After another round of drinks were ordered and served, Nikkie started in.
“Okay, Jessica is in custody for Hilton’s murder, but I don’t think she would have killed him and allowed herself to be seen. Hilton dying kills her alibi, right?”
“Sort of,” Rachel said. “He already refuted everything she claimed, but with him out of the picture, he won’t be able to defend himself if her case goes to court. Not sure if him dying hurts her case or helps it. As for you feeling she didn’t kill him, I tend to feel the same way. Jessica Gracers is a pretty smart woman. I don’t think she’d casually walk down his walkway after parking her car in his driveway, knowing how easily she could be seen. I think, at least as far as Hilton’s death is concerned, wrong place, wrong time.”
“What do you know about O’Connell? The doctor from Nashville?” Derek’s mind was slowly putting some key things together. He felt he was getting close to knowing which rabbit he and Nikkie needed to chase. There were just a few pieces left. Rachel had one of the pieces, and Maryanne Jenkins had the others.
“Too soon to know much,” Rachel said. “We know he was tortured, shot in the forehead and dumped in the bay. Body wasn’t weighted down at all. Found him floating face up around a half mile from shore.”
“Anonymous person call it in? Someone say they saw a body floating in the bay but, before the 911 dispatcher could ask his name, the caller hung up?”
Rachel screwed up her face a bit. “How do you know that? That’s almost exactly what happened. How did you know?”
“That’s what I would have done. Probably called from a pay phone north of Tampa. Hard to find a pay phone nowadays, but down in Florida, lots of elderly people still like to use old technology. I saw a few pay phones while driving around today.”
“The call did come from a pay phone north of Tampa. But, what do you mean that’s what you would do?”
“The person who called 911 was the killer. Wanted to send a message to someone. That’s why the body wasn’t weighted down. He wanted it to be found and found easily and quickly. Also didn’t want to take the chance the body would get dragged out by the outgoing tide, so he called it in himself. Gave himself enough time to head back to his home but not too much time for the tides to pull the body out to sea.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, digging into her purse in search of something to capture notes on. “Tell me what else you would do.”
“I wouldn’t have done it alone, that’s for sure and I wouldn’t dump the body within a hundred miles of where I live. You’re looking for two killers, neither local. Tell me, you said O’Connell was tortured. What part of his body was tortured the most?”
“Penis was mutilated. Numerous slashing cuts and at least one deep penetrating stab. Right through the testes.”
“How about O’Connell’s mouth?”
“Busted up pretty badly. Bunch of teeth knocked out. Not sure yet but there’s probably a few more cracked and hanging on by a thread. Lips all busted up. Like O’Connell was punched hard and often.”
Derek was asking his questions in rapid fire. No emotion behind them. He asked, listened for the answer, then moved to the next question.
“The knife wounds to his groin, were they direct or through O’Connell’s pants?”
“Derek, you’re beginning to scare me. The crotch of his pants was cut up pretty bad. Like the killer, or killers, stabbed and slashed at his groin while O’Connell was still wearing them.”
“The wounds were meant to embarrass O’Connell as much as they were meant to hurt him. The killers wanted to make sure O’Connell understood they were in charge. That they were more important than he was. They weren’t homosexual or trying to repress some backed up sexual dysfunction, that’s why they didn’t have O’Connell drop his pants. Didn’t want anyone, including each other, to think they were gay. Just wanted to make damn sure O’Connell lost his manhood.
“The focus on the mouth tells me these two didn’t want O’Connell to talk. Not after they were done, obviously since they had every intention of killing him, but while they were torturing him. Probably didn’t want to feel stupid if O’Connell used some fancy college words they couldn’t understand. These killers were contracted to kill O’Connell. They threw in the torture for no charge. Kind of like their own fringe benefit.”
“You seem to know more about this than any of us at the department,” Rachel said. “So, tell me, who are these guys and who paid them to kill O’Connell.”
“Hilton hired them, that’s for damn sure. Nikkie called O’Connell and put him on notice by mentioning three names: Reagan, Steel and Hilton. That was a trifecta of doom and despair for O’Connell. As soon as he hung up on Nikkie, O’Connell called Hilton. Check his phone records. You’ll find I’m right about that. Probably read him the riot act. Told Hilton he needed to take care of the problem. Hilton contacted two people he uses for off the record jobs, gave them O’Connell’s info and told them to be quick about it. Last thing Hilton wanted was for O’Connell to freak out and tell authorities about what Hilton and he had done.”
“Makes sense to me,” Rachel commented. “Still, it’s a long stretch, but it does make sense.” Rachel paused as her face slowly displayed the look of an approaching thought. “Wait a minute, those two brothers in Alabama, you think they are the killers?”
“That would be my bet. Hilton used them to take care of the lodge. Probably used them for a whole bunch of jobs. When I was at their strip of land where they burned the furniture, I peeked into a pole barn on the property. Just a quick glance. Inside were four cars, possibly a boat as well. Each covered up with a custom fit cover. Soft material so the cars wouldn’t get scratched. I’ve seen covers like those before. Know how much they cost. People don’t spend a grand or more on car covers to protect a Hyundai Elantra. Those cars were high end. They also had enough lumber sitting next to the pole barn to do a full rehab on the house on the property. Lumber like that costs a lot. Got me wondering how two brothers who run a small moving company could afford automobiles like those and have enough left over to spend on fixing up a house. They didn’t get their money from moving, that’s for sure.”
“They could rent out the storage space. Those cars could be owned by other people,” Nikkie suggested.
“Not with the same type of covers. All black, all custom and all made of the same material. Whoever owns one of those cars, owns them all. And someone with enough money to own four cars worth spending a grand each to cover, isn’t going to store them in some pole barn owned by those brothers. Never would happen.”
“Could be,” Rachel said in a voice that was streaked with self-doubt, “that the brothers inherited a bunch of money from their parents or a rich uncle?”
“Thought of that, too. While I was waiting for you to pick me up on the side of the road, I sat out of the sun and did some searching on my phone. I’m not very good at the whole Internet thing, but good enough to know how to search public databases. I guess our old assistant, Crown, loaded an app on my iPhone. Gives me access to a whole bunch of public databases. Turns out the owners of Southern Boys Moving Company—which is run under a legally filed DBA, by the way—are Jackson and Robert Trainer. A Mrs. Gloria Trainer, the boys’ mother, lives in a trailer park in Mississippi with her second husband. Never changed her last name. The boys’ father is off the radar. His name, Thomas Trainer, is listed on both of the boys’ birth certificates, but there’s no known address for him.”
“Sounds like he abandoned his family,” Rachel said.
“Sounds that way.”
Rachel said, “If I was the DA or a defense lawyer, I’d say all you have are possible connections. Not a thread of evidence.”
“I plan on taking care of that in the morning.”
Nikkie stiffened her spine, gave a long, knowing look to Derek.
“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, stop. I know t
hat look in your eye and I know nothing good ever follows that look.”
“I’m going to pay a visit to Jackson and Robert, better known as ‘Bobby,’ Trainer. Getting a little tired of chasing all these rabbits.”
“You’re not planning on driving all the way up to their home tonight, are you?” Nikkie asked.
“Damn right, I am. Want to get there before they have too much time to clean up any traces of O’Connell. I figure they drove one of those covered cars for this job. Wouldn’t want to use their moving truck. Too easily remembered. They used a car from the pole barn, drove to wherever O’Connell lived. Took care of business then drove him down to Tampa.”
“You’re thinking they killed him up in Tennessee?” Rachel asked.
“That’s what I would do. Don’t want to take any chance of him getting away while driving to Tampa. Kill him up in Nashville, then drive the body to Tampa. That’s what I would do.”
“Then put the car back under covers in case anyone saw it. Makes sense.”
“My first stop will be that pole barn,” Derek said as he waved to the waitress and mouthed, “Check, please.”
“Big problem, as I see it,” Nikkie offered. “Time frame issue, again. If it was the brothers in Alabama, how the hell did they get to Nashville then to Tampa in the time frame we’re looking at?”
“Not really,” Derek said. “Dothan to Nashville is a little over three hundred, seventy miles. Figure six-and-a-half hours. If the brothers got the call yesterday, say around eight, eight-thirty, they’d arrive in the Nashville area around four to four-thirty. Great time to kill someone, if you ask me. Probably didn’t waste much time. They surprised O’Connell, subdued him, drove him someplace out of the way. Plenty of places like that outside of Nashville. Let’s say the brothers finish up their business by six. They probably brought a car with a good-sized trunk. They tossed O’Connell in the trunk, and then drove to Tampa. That’s a long-ass drive. Ten hours if you go straight through, twelve if you take your time, which I’m sure they did. Probably took turns driving. One drove, the other slept.
“They couldn’t get to Tampa in the daylight. I place them in Tampa around eight-thirty last night. They waited till it got a bit darker, dumped O’Connell in the bay, drove to the north side of Tampa, stopped at a pay phone, called in their sighting of a body, then drove back to Dothan. Time frame works fine.”
Rachel checked her notes. Slowly started nodding her head.
“The 911 call came into the center at ten-twenty. Time frame fits.”
Nikkie let out a long sigh. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say Jackson and Bobby Trainer were hired by Hilton to take O’Connell out to make sure he keeps quiet. If that’s true, then we have another killer on the loose. No matter how creative you can get with time frames, there’s no way the Trainers could have made it to Snead Island in time to match the explosion which killed Hilton. No way in the world.”
“Fortunate for us,” Derek said, “we snag Hilton’s killer, we snag Sam Gracers’ as well.”
Chapter 28
When Jessica Gracers learned her recently departed husband’s brother had not only planned a funeral for Sam but had already petitioned the Pinellas District Attorney’s office for possession of his remains and for the rights to transport his body across state lines, she grew enraged. After her calls to DA Julie Steinberg’s office were routed to voicemail or sent to an intern who promised to “get the message to the District Attorney as soon as possible,” Jessica demanded she be released from her jail cell on account of extreme emotional distress.
Her request was practically laughed at.
When she called Maryanne Jenkins and again demanded that she get down to the DA’s office and get her out of jail, immediately, her attorney matched her rage.
“Jessica,” Maryanne barked at her, “you were out on bail after being accused of, and arrested, for the murder of your husband. The conditions of your bail were extremely clear. In the best-case scenario, a judge would remand you to the cell you’re now remanded to, simply because you violated the conditions of your parole when you drove to Snead Island with the full intention of speaking with Brian Hilton. That’s the best scenario. But what you’re looking at now is more like the worst-case scenario. You admit to driving to Hilton’s house. Admit to walking up to his front door. Thirty-minutes after you leave Hilton’s house, he’s killed by an explosion. And guess what, Jessica? Let’s say you had nothing to do with Brian’s death. Let’s say you are telling the truth and all you did was walk up to his door, but changed your mind before you rang the bell. Let’s say you did drive home and had absolutely nothing to do with the explosion and Brian’s death. Guess what? It doesn’t matter. You’re experiencing the worst-case scenario simply because you violated the conditions of your parole and were in the wrong place at the wrong time. There isn’t a judge in the country who would let you out on bail again. You’re staying where you are till both cases, both murder cases, are closed.”
Jessica fell silent. Didn’t make a sound for close to two minutes. She probably would have kept on saying nothing had the guard not tapped her on her shoulder.
“Time’s up.”
Jessica took a deep breath, held it then blew it out directly into the mouthpiece of the phone.
“It seems I’ve reached my phone-time limit. So I’ll end with two demands. Since I am paying you, I am comfortable with issuing commands. You get me out of here by tomorrow at the latest. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done. If you don’t, I’ll make sure your business dealings with Brian Hilton are made public. That will certainly raise some eyebrows, wouldn’t you think?”
It was Maryanne’s time to go silent.
“Yes, yes, that’s right. I know all about your role in Brian’s business dealings. I’m not a lawyer so I can’t say if the services you provided Brian were in support of any illegal practices, but, still, the fact you insisted that your dealings with Brian were kept as quiet as possible will certainly raise some eyebrows. Maybe you should rehearse your alibi for Brian’s murder.”
Without a second delay, Maryanne asked what Jessica’s second demand was.
“Get Cole up here ASAP. I can’t call him myself. Get me out and get Cole here, now!”
Jessica shared her cell with a forty-six year old black woman, arrested for assault with a deadly weapon. Jessica’s cellmate had been her cellmate when she was first arrested for Sam’s murder. The time they spent together was done so without a single word passing between them. But as Jessica sat on her bed—four inch thick mattress, paper thin sheets and a pillow with as many stains as lumps—the anger inside her demanded release.
“So,” Jessica said, “what are you in for? That’s what convicts say to each other, isn’t it? They talk to each other about what they’re ‘in’ for? I’m in because the man I had an affair with—and I’m not telling you that because I’m proud of the fact I cheated on my husband—refuted my entire alibi by insisting he and I had not spent the weekend together.”
Her cellmate remained sitting still, head hung low, fingers knitted in a loose grip.
“Well, since you asked, my husband, Sam, was murdered the weekend I was away with Brian. That’s his name, the man I was having an affair with. I guess I should say that was his name. He was killed yesterday. Someone planted a bomb in his house. Killed him instantly, or so they tell me. Before he was blown up, along with any chance of him admitting he was with me at his lodge the weekend my husband was murdered, I violated the conditions of my parole. I went to confront him. Drove down to Snead Island, walked right up to his front door. Had every intention of insisting he tell the truth. Would have resorted to begging, if it came to that. But I lost my nerve. Honestly, if I had seen him face to face and he acted as if I was crazy and wouldn’t even admit to me what he and I had together, I…I don’t know what I’d do.
“So, I left. But some of Brian’s neighbors gave a description of me and my car to the authorities after Brian was killed. The
y arrested me even before they told me Brian had been killed. That’s two men, two men that I loved, killed within the same week. Do you have any idea what that can do to a woman?”
Jessica sniffed back some tears. Straightened herself and continued.
“I just met with my lawyer. I insisted that she get me out of this horrible place. I even threatened her. That’s right, I threatened my lawyer.” Jessica crossed her legs, leaned forward at her waist. “See, my husband found out that Brian was doing something terrible in his business. Simply terrible. Sam and Brian work for the same person. Hard to explain the company, so I won’t bother you with the details, but the man they worked for was involved in what Brian was doing as well. No, I can’t say I know that for certain, but considering how tightly FJ, he’s the owner of the company, runs things, I cannot imagine him not knowing what Brian was doing.
“I don’t know how Sam found out. But he told me one night, probably four or five months ago. Said it was eating him alive to know what Brian and FJ were doing. They were practically stealing million dollar businesses from people. Terrible, simply terrible what they were doing. I couldn’t believe it at first. No, that’s not true. I knew what Sam told me was the truth; I just didn’t want to admit it. I fell in love with Brian and couldn’t bring myself to accept what an awful person he was.
“Sam never knew about the affair. At least I pray he never knew. The idea of him knowing and the pain it would have caused would be unbearable to me. Unbearable.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t blame you one bit. You’re thinking if I cared so much for Sam and his feelings that I would have never had an affair. But we had grown apart. We barely spoke to each other the past year. He changed, Sam that is. He changed from the caring, loving man I married to someone closed up. Secretive.
“Thinking back on it now—I’ve had plenty of time to think as of late—I’ve come to realize Sam probably found out what Brian and FJ were doing about the same time he started to change. It wasn’t that he was changing or had fallen out of love with me. What he found out had caused him to change.
Deathly Reminders: a Derek Cole Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thrillers Book 6) Page 18