by Joseph Badal
Navarro looked uncomfortable about the suggestion but he used Susan’s home phone to call Marge’s cell number. Barbara noticed he dialed the number from memory.
“Marge, it’s Shawn. Listen, something’s come up in the Comstock case and I thought we should talk. Is this a good time?” He listened for a moment, then said, “You’re back in Albuquerque?” Then, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Where is he?” He listened some more, said, “Okay, that’s fine. See you soon,” and hung up.
Navarro said, “Marge’s father has been hospitalized with chest pains. She sounded really upset.” He dropped onto the couch. “I can’t believe how much crap that poor woman has had to put up with. When she hired me to find her daughter, I approached the job like any other. But the more I learned about Victoria Comstock and the awful things she’d done to Marge, the sorrier I felt for her. I guess it’s true that bad things happen to good people.”
Barbara didn’t voice the thought that maybe Marge wasn’t a good person. Instead she asked, “You’re meeting with her?”
“Yeah. She couldn’t talk now. We’re meeting at the Heart Hospital cafeteria at 8 p.m.”
“How do you want to play this?” Susan asked. “It won’t do us any good if Marge tells Shawn she was aware of Connie’s sexual relationship with Stein or knew about the disks, not if we’re not there to hear it.”
“We could record—”
“Wait a minute,” Navarro said. “I’m happy to help, but there’s no way I’ll meet with Marge while I’m wired. She’s my client. I’m happy to meet with her and I’ll tell you afterwards what she says.”
“All right,” Barbara said, “we’ll meet her with you. But, if she incriminates herself, you may have to testify against her at some point.”
Navarro’s eyes seemed to glaze. “If she is guilty, I’ll do everything I can to see her convicted,” he said. “But I bet this will be a waste of our time.”
CHAPTER 47
When Marge walked into the cafeteria, she looked exhausted. Barbara, seated at a table with Susan, watched Navarro go over and greet her. He said something to her, but Barbara was too far away to hear the words. Marge’s face flashed with anger and she started to turn around as though to leave. Navarro touched her arm, said something more to her, and brought her to the table.
Barbara stood and offered her hand. Marge ignored it and slid into a chair opposite Susan.
“You want something to drink?” Barbara asked. “Coffee?”
Marge shrugged. Clearly, she couldn’t have cared less about coffee.
“Sorry about your father,” Navarro said.
“The doctor says there’s nothing wrong with his heart.” She tried to smile, but her chin trembled and eyes misted. “The doctor asked me if Dad has been under stress lately.” She brushed away tears from her eyes. “What a joke! My father thinks Connie is a gift from God. He loves her so much, and now she won’t even talk to him. When that bitch . . . .” Marge’s eyes went steely hard. “When Victoria Comstock got between my daughter and me, she also destroyed Connie’s relationship with him and my mother.”
Barbara watched Marge’s anger and frustration wash over her. She waited for the woman to collect herself.
“I appreciate you taking a few minutes to talk,” Barbara said.
Marge said after a moment, “Did you find the killer?”
“No, not yet,” Susan said. She cleared her throat and asked, “Did you hear about Dr. Nathan Stein?”
“I haven’t talked to or heard from Stein in a few weeks. What about him?”
Susan looked directly into Marge’s eyes. “He was murdered.”
Marge’s eyes went wide. She cupped a hand over her mouth. “Who? Oh my God,” she groaned. “Connie’s seen him for a couple years. She really liked him. He seemed to help with her problems with manic depression.” A frightened look came over her face. “I’ve got to find Connie! If she hears about Dr. Stein and doesn’t have someone with her, she could . . . .”
Navarro rested a hand on Marge’s arm. “Detectives Lassiter and Martinez know where Connie is. Maybe they could arrange for you to see her.”
Marge gave Navarro a strained smile, but she still looked frightened. “I have an idea how Connie would react if I showed up. It wouldn’t be good.”
Barbara decided it was time to get down to business. “Tell me about Connie’s relationship with the doctor,” she said.
Marge focused on Barbara. “Why do you ask that?”
“Humor me for a moment,” Barbara said.
Marge shook her head. “Until Connie saw Dr. Stein, she was on a steep downward slide. Her manic depression became evident about a year-and-a-half ago and then worsened as she got older. She wouldn’t take her medication on a regular basis. She was a mess. But the doctor changed all that. She was like my little girl again, who’d been such a joy to be around before the depression and the mania. Dr. Stein is . . . was a hero to all of us. Thank God for insurance. Otherwise, I would never been able to afford to have Connie see him.” The steely look again. “And then Victoria showed up and ruined everything.”
“Did you know that Mrs. Comstock knew Dr. Stein?”
Marge thought about that for a moment. “That woman was as crazy as any person I’ve ever known. Stein was a popular psychiatrist. So there’s a good chance they knew each other.”
Her brow knitted as she seemed to try to remember something. Barbara waited a few seconds. But when Marge didn’t say anything further, she asked, “When was the last time Connie saw Dr. Stein?”
“Oh, it’s been two months.”
“How do you know that?” Susan asked.
“I called Dr. Stein about twice a month after Connie went to live with Victoria, to see if he’d heard from her. He told me the last time I called he’d seen her on a regular basis, up to two months ago. Then she cancelled their regular appointments. He sounded upset about that.”
Barbara knew Stein had lied to Marge. The DVD of him and Connie they’d viewed earlier was dated within the past two weeks.
Marge shifted her gaze to Navarro. “You told me this meeting was about Victoria’s murder. What’s that got to do with Nathan Stein? And why ask me about Stein?” Then her eyes widened again. “Oh, my God! You think I had something to do with his murder.”
Navarro tried to touch Marge’s arm again, but she jerked back and put her arms under the table. “No, you’ve got it wrong,” he said. “I want to prove your innocence. I know you could never kill anyone.”
She nodded at Barbara and Susan and asked, “But what do they think?”
“They believe you have motive for both murders. But they don’t believe you’re guilty.”
Marge slumped as though defeated. It took her a while to respond. “What possible motive could I have had to kill Dr. Stein? That man was a saint. He did everything he could to help my daughter.”
Navarro sucked in a giant breath and slowly exhaled. “They know that Stein saw Connie within the past few weeks.”
“But why would he lie to me?” Marge said. She added, “At least she was getting care.”
“Stein didn’t just see Connie in a professional sense,” Susan said. She let the comment hang.
Marge glared at Susan and then her eyes seemed to melt. A mournful moan burst from her throat.
CHAPTER 48
It was just past 9:30 p.m. when Barbara and Susan knocked on Rebecca Sartell’s front door. The friend, a purple-haired twenty-year-old, answered the door. She wore a nose ring, at least ten rings in each ear, and a tongue stud.
Barbara badged the girl and asked to see Connie.
“Y’all real live po-lice?” the girl said. Maybe she was from Alabama. She bounced from one foot to the other as she scratched her arms.
Barbara couldn’t tell if she was just excited about meeting two female detectives or if she was high on amphetamines. She guessed the latter.
“Well, we’re alive and we’re police, so I guess we’re real live po-lice,” Susan said.
>
The girl giggled.
“Is Connie here?” Barbara asked.
“Naw, she went out, maybe thirty minutes ago. She got a phone call and took off without a word.”
“So you don’t know where she went or when she’ll return.”
“No ma’am, I sure don’t.”
Susan handed her a card and told her to have Connie call the number on the card when she got back.
“What now?” Susan asked as the detectives walked to their car.
“Heck, I don’t know. In fact, I don’t know squat at this point.”
“Maybe we should call Shawn to let him know we couldn’t find Connie,” Susan suggested.
Barbara nodded. She got behind the wheel of her car, pulled her cell phone out of her shoulder bag, and dialed Navarro’s cell number.
After he came on the line, Barbara told him about Connie being out.
“Where did she go?”
“No clue. And that about describes her dingbat roommate.”
“Listen, Barbara, I’m still down at the hospital with Marge. Can you and Susan meet with us again?”
“We just left you. What’s up?”
“We just need to talk.”
“Sure, we’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Barbara disconnected the call and looked across the seat at Susan. “Shawn wants us to go back down to the hospital.”
“What the hell for?”
“How do I know? Maybe they want to play bridge.”
“You’re in a pissy mood.”
Barbara put her key in the ignition and started the car. “I don’t know why this damn case has got to me like it has.” She put the car into gear. “Or, maybe I do know and I just can’t reconcile it.”
“What’s that mean?” Susan asked.
Barbara shifted back to Park.
“Oh, you know, the average murder we investigate is some gangbanger that offs a rival gangbanger or some cokehead who kills his best buddy. This whole thing isn’t our reality, Susan. We got a dead woman who made Damien in The Omen look like Billy Graham. Her former husbands and lovers think she was evil and glorious at the same time. We got a dead psychiatrist who abused and betrayed his disturbed patients. We got a mother who’s been shit on enough for four lives. A daughter who’s off in Wonderland. And we got a private investigator . . . .”
“What about the private investigator?”
“I don’t know.”
“You already said that. Besides . . . sonofabitch!”
“What?”
“You’ve got the hots for Shawn Navarro, don’t you?”
Barbara didn’t say anything.
“Come on partner, what’s up?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Susan said. “I put my life on the line out here with you every day. If there’s something I need to know about, you better give.”
Barbara remained silent
“You either open up to me or get yourself another partner.”
Barbara turned her face toward Susan. “You mean that?”
“Look, Barbara, if there’s some reason you can’t focus, I gotta know. We’ve known each other for years and have worked together for almost a year. In all that time I’ve never seen you shed one tear. You’ve got me scared.”
Barbara swallowed and pressed her fingers against her closed eyes. “Let’s see, what’s my problem?” Her chin trembled. “This case has gotten to me. Plus, we’re suspended. Why? Because we give a shit about the job, more than any of the bastards we work with. So they boot our asses out for two weeks just to make a point.” She hesitated. She knew what she wanted to say next, to get it off her chest, to be able to tell just one person. But she’d never been able to share her personal feelings, her innermost thoughts, with others. Even with her husband, she’d held back. That’s the way she’d been raised. A show of emotion revealed weakness and made you vulnerable. How many times had her mother told her that?
“You’re almost there, partner. It’s just one small step.” She touched Barbara’s arm again. “You can do it.”
The tears flowed again. “I love this job so much, Susan, and I feel they’ll never give me a chance to be the best.” She could feel a crack form in her emotional dam and then the entire reinforced structure collapsed. The words flowed as though they had a will of their own.
“I feel I’ve betrayed Jim. I have this ache inside and every time I look at Shawn Navarro the ache gets worse.”
Susan slid across the seat and wrapped an arm around Barbara’s shoulders. Minutes passed before Barbara spoke again.
“You know what he said to me? He said I was just right. That he didn’t like skinny women.”
Susan laughed. “A hunk like Navarro tells you that and you’re crying? You are screwed up in the head.”
Susan returned to her side of the seat, grabbed a tissue from the glove compartment, and passed it to Barbara, who choked out a small laugh.
“I’m an overweight woman with a booze problem, who’s far from successful at her chosen profession. Sound like a real catch to you?”
“That’s the old you. You’ve just begun your exercise program today and you haven’t had a drink in days. And, as far as your career is concerned, they’ll kiss your ass all the way up to the mayor’s office when we solve the Comstock and Stein cases.”
CHAPTER 49
When they got back to the hospital, Barbara went to the ladies room to fix her makeup, while Susan went directly to the table where Shawn Navarro and Marge Stanley waited. When Barbara joined them, the group seemed very subdued. Just like I feel, she thought.
Marge Stanley looked bleary-eyed. Her eye makeup had run. Navarro had his hand on hers.
“After you left,” Navarro told the detectives, “I briefed Marge on the details of Nathan Stein’s . . . extra-curricular activities.”
Barbara couldn’t believe he had shared this information with Marge. Technically, the woman was still a suspect. “Maybe we should have this conversation down at the station,” she said. Then she remembered that the squad room wasn’t available to suspended detectives.
“We gotta stop this bullshit, Barbara,” Navarro said. “Marge didn’t know a thing about Connie’s relationship with Stein or about his videos.”
Barbara wanted to shout Navarro down, to tell him it wasn’t his call to make. But she looked at Marge’s expression and decided saying so would only make things worse.
“Where’s Connie?” Marge demanded.
“She wasn’t at her friend’s place,” Susan said. “And the friend said she had no idea where Connie might be or when she might return.”
Marge just nodded in a way that said she’d been there before.
Nobody had anything to say for a minute. Barbara noticed a half-dozen people enter the cafeteria. “This isn’t the best place to talk about a murder investigation.”
“Let’s go to my place,” Susan said. “We can talk this out there. Who knows, maybe we’ll come up with something.”
Navarro and Stanley decided to drive their own vehicles. Susan gave them her address and directions before she and Barbara left the cafeteria.
In the car, Susan cleared her throat. “I guess if you and Navarro are to become an item, I’d better try to get along with him.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, girl.”
“We’ll see.”
“Do you like him?” Barbara asked.
“Sure,” Susan said after only the briefest hesitation.
“But . . . ?”
“Nothing really. I just get a funny feeling about him and Marge Stanley.”
“Ah, crap!” Barbara blurted. “Can’t you just be supportive of me having a friend like Shawn?”
“Sorry.”
The drive to Susan’s house took twenty minutes. They were halfway up her street when Susan suddenly shouted, “Stop the car!”
Barbara braked instantly and swerved to the curb three doors before Susan’s place. S
he didn’t need an explanation from Susan. Lights were on inside Susan’s house, the front door was wide open, and Manny’s Toyota was parked in the driveway. Its trunk was open. Boxes were piled inside the trunk and on the driveway.
“Oh shit!” Susan exhaled. “That little fucker picks this moment to get his things. You wait here. One female cop is all Manny’s ego can handle.” She laughed, got out of the car, and slammed the door shut before Barbara could tell her to be careful.
Barbara watched her move down the sidewalk and cross the lawn in front of the house. She pulled the car in front of Susan’s home. The thought crossed her mind that, with Manny’s temper, domestic violence might erupt at any moment. She only hoped it wouldn’t be necessary for Susan to drop the little bastard with a good left hook. She felt herself smile at the thought of how good it would be to see Susan deck her husband. She moved her left hand to open her door when, inside the house, a flash of light and the sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the peace of the quiet street.
CHAPTER 50
Barbara snatched her pistol from her purse, jumped from her car, and shouted, “Susan!” No answer.
She scrambled to Manny’s car and crouched beside it. Shielded from the front door of the house, she called Susan’s name again. Again, no answer. She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and dialed 9-1-1.
“This is Detective Barbara Lassiter of the Bernalillo County Sheriff’s Department. Shots have been fired. Possible officer down.” She gave the operator the address and the closest main intersection. The operator asked her to stay on the phone until the police showed up. Because this was inside Albuquerque’s city limits, the Albuquerque police would respond first to the call, although one or more Sheriff’s Deputies might show up, too, as would a State Police officer. The dispatcher would automatically call for an ambulance.
Just then, Navarro pulled up behind Barbara’s car in his Lincoln. Marge Stanley was right behind him in her truck. Navarro got out of his vehicle.