by James Ross
“Welcome to our court system,” Leslie answered. “Truman informed me that many of the appraisals have been ordered. They are gathering audited financial statements and tax returns on the various corporations.”
“Can’t they speed things up?”
“You could agree to his offer.”
“I’m not about to take the crumbs he’s throwin’ out. We’ve worked hard to accumulate all of this together. I want this over as soon as possible!”
“You have to remember that nothing happens fast in real estate or the courts or with accountants.” Leslie clasped her hands. “Lots of times, and I’ll borrow a cliché, good things come to those who wait.” Leslie got up and walked to the coffee pot on the credenza. “How is the living arrangement? Is he being abusive in any way?”
“No, it’s all good. He has his area and I have mine. We respect that. I just don’t want to be married to him anymore. I want my freedom to come and go and do what I want.”
“Lisa told me that you met Maggie.”
“And Meredith,” Shari added. “I guess alcohol has a way of releasing inhibitions and making fantasies come true.” She laughed.
“Oh, really. The report I got from Lisa wasn’t that detailed.”
“I had no idea.” Shari couldn’t believe what she had done. “It was just a one-time thing.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I like men too much.” Shari dug into her purse. The conversation was a little awkward for her. “This makes me want to have a cigarette.”
Leslie cautioned. “It’s a no-smoking building.”
Shari acknowledged such. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth. “I must admit the soft touch of a woman and that first kiss ….” Her voice trailed off as she remembered how she felt that first night.
“You’ve made a valuable contact.” Leslie paused. “Lisa can help you.”
“I never knew.”
“The masses don’t. Private lives of public figures do not need to be news. She’s welcomed you into her inner circle. Run with it.” Leslie smiled.
“How can I?”
“She needs a travel partner for one. For obvious reasons Maggie can’t be that.”
Shari thought about the opportunities that might exist. Her mind wandered to exotic islands and sun-drenched beaches. “But I really enjoy the touch of a man too.”
“Nobody is asking you to stop that. Just make yourself available when the call comes.”
An all-expense paid trip sounded alluring. Shari changed the direction of the conversation. “Are you?”
Leslie had a puzzled look. “Do I like the touch of a woman? Is that what you’re asking?”
Shari nodded.
“First off, I don’t discuss that with clients. But you’re welcome to look around and see the causes that are important to me in my life. Lisa and I have a lot of common ground.” Leslie took a calculated breath and wondered if she should say what was truly on her mind. “Let’s just say I prefer something that lasts more than ten minutes and I like to cuddle.”
Shari caught the drift and laughed out loud. “You don’t like the touch and feel of a hairy ass!” The pair laughed heartily.
“Nor do I want to deal with performance anxiety.” The laughter continued.
Shari pulled a tissue out of her purse to wipe away the tears before the mascara ran down her face. “Let me give all of it some thought. I know that my first reaction surprised me.”
“That you liked it?”
“It was different, but it was enjoyable too.”
Leslie returned to her chair behind her desk and the tone of the conversation turned serious. “Right now I am your attorney. I am going to give you the best advice I can.”
Shari chuckled. “You may have already.”
Leslie had her game face on. “No, in all seriousness I want you to utilize what Lisa can do for you.”
“What now?”
“The Langdon Estate has been the most desirable piece of property in town. Your husband has control of it. Lisa’s family has influence at TexArOkLa. She can get that property rezoned.” Leslie stopped to let the comment sink in. “With that you’ll become very wealthy and, of course, that will become a part of the divorce settlement.”
What Leslie just said went in one ear and out the other. Shari was pre-occupied. “Oh, that reminds me. I almost forgot why I came in to see you today.”
Leslie was taken aback as to what could be more important than what she just indicated. She sat back in her chair. “What?”
“We’ve been planning Kara’s wedding.”
“Who is Kara?”
“My oldest daughter.”
“That’s right. Now I remember her name.”
“Anyway we’ve figured up a rough estimate of the cost of her wedding. It’s going to run somewhere in the neighborhood of $150,000. I want you to put that in the settlement too. I want Tyler Cy to pay for that.”
Leslie was dumbfounded. She just described a way for Shari to make millions of dollars and her client was worried about the cost of a wedding. “Sure. We can do that. Is that it?”
“Yeah. Make the bastard pay for it.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Bazz and Lester J were busy brainstorming in their cubicle at the St. Louis County Police Department. The investigation into the murder of Richard W. Richards had gone cold. Days and weeks had passed. They were no further along than on the morning of the execution.
“I don’t know what to use or where to go or who to talk to,” Lester J complained. “We have nothing.”
Bazz opened up his notepad. “We’ve gone through this I don’t know how many times, but there has to be something obvious that we’re missing. Let’s go through it again.”
“A guy goes to meet his golfing buddies. They’re carpooling.” Lester J had a map spread out. “Here is where they met.” He pointed to an X that was scribbled on the parking lot. “The guy arrives first after stopping for some breakfast sandwiches.”
“Do you think somebody followed him from the fast food joint?”
“It’s possible.” Lester J said as he looked at the map. “The drive-thru was right here.” He circled a location on the map. “It was an all-night joint.”
“Meaning?”
“They served all night, but nobody was allowed inside. Only the drive-thru was open.”
“Okay, so he didn’t go inside.”
“Right, he wouldn’t have been allowed. The receipt says that he made the purchase at 5:28 a.m.” Lester J placed the receipt on the desk. “He pays at the drive-thru window, pulls up and grabs his food, and then exits the lot.”
“Okay, I follow you,” Bazz said in total agreement.
“I assume he made a right out of the lot.”
“Sure. His meeting place with the guys was a mile and a half down the road.”
“One point seven miles to be exact,” Lester J corrected.
“How long do you think it took him to get his food once he paid for it?” Bazz asked.
“Why is that important?” Lester J wondered.
“I’m trying to establish an exact time he pulled into the commuter lot to meet his golfing buddies.”
“No more than three minutes. Maybe five at the most,” Lester J guessed.
“Got it.” Bazz scribbled some numbers. “That means he pulled out of the lot at around 5:31 or 5:33 at the latest.”
“Probably.”
“At that time in the morning what are the street lights doing?”
“They are flashing yellow,” Lester J answered.
“All of them?” Bazz asked.
Lester J nodded. “All but the last one that turns onto the road where the commuter lot is located.”
“Fine. How long would that one stay red if he happened to come up on a red light?”
“Thirty seconds. Max.”
“Good,” Bazz conceded. “You’ve driven that, right?”
“Yep. Several times.”
“How
long did it take you?”
“From the food joint through the flashing yellow lights, assuming he was driving the speed limit, it takes two minutes. If he had to stop at the red light, it would take him three minutes to pull into the lot.”
“So that puts him in the commuter lot at between 5:34 to 5:36 in the morning.”
“Right.”
“What time does the sun come up?”
“It’s still dark at that time of the morning if that is what you’re getting at.”
“Yeah.” Bazz scribbles some more. “When does dawn start to break?”
“You mean when does it start to get light?”
“Yeah.”
“About 5:55.”
“And he was meeting his buddies at 5:45, right?”
“Yeah,” Lester J verified. “5:45.”
“So it is still dark. He pulls into the lot, pops the trunk, gets out, and places his bag and shoes on the outside of the vehicle and returns to the driver’s seat.” Bazz jumped up and enacted the movement. “What’s that take? Maybe 30 seconds? A minute at most?”
“I follow.”
“So now it is 5:35 or maybe 5:37 at the latest. Bazz scribbles more numbers on his notepad. “His buddies are on the road getting close. No one has gotten there yet.”
“Right.”
“The shooter’s window of opportunity is closing rapidly. Do you think the guy was there waiting for him?”
“He could have been.”
“Let’s assume he wasn’t.”
“You mean you don’t think the guy was waiting for him?”
“I’m just making an assumption. There’s only one way into that commuter lot, right?”
“Yeah, anybody going there has to travel through the same intersection that Richards went through.”
“Bingo!” Bazz shouted. “There’s our answer.”
“What?” Lester J pried for an explanation.
“We don’t have an effing thing to go on. Not one clue.”
“You’ve got that nailed.”
“Except now we have a time frame and the killer came to us through that intersection and left through that intersection in a time frame that couldn’t have lasted more than eight to ten minutes. The shooter was gone before the golf buddies got there.”
“How is that going to help us?” Lester J wasn’t putting two and two together.
“There are cameras at that intersection.”
“That’s Investigating Technique 101.” Lester J raised his hands to the ceiling. “Why didn’t we think of that first?”
Bazz jumped to his feet. “I need to get the camera that shoots that intersection. We might at least find out what the guy was driving.”
“Good job,” Lester J replied, “and see if you can zoom in on the license plate number.”
Bazz headed off to his next stop content that he had just solved the murder of Richard W. Richards. “Maybe I’ll have some answers for us real soon.”
“Wait a second. What did that cell phone turn up?”
“Shari’s or Raul’s?”
“Both.”
“The IT guys told me we should have some information on that within the next day.”
“I know it is unrelated to this guy’s murder but I would like to know what was going on between those two.”
“Stay tuned. We should know something shortly.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
It was another slow day at the Donnelly residence. No one was home but Tyler Cy. He was busy doing his knee exercises in the lower level and thankful that nobody was looking over his shoulder telling him how to do them.
The surround sound music system was playing songs from an iPod that he had plugged into the computer. It was peaceful. He went about his business, slowly stretching farther and farther. In due time his knee would gain back all of its strength and range of motion. An added benefit was that the time he had been putting in caused him to lose some weight. He was down twelve pounds and one notch on his belt. His face had gotten thinner. His boyish look was beginning to return, except for the fact that he had no hair.
Life was good. It was really, really good except for this minor distraction with his wife and the lawyers. But that would pass. And he knew it was temporary. Then he could return to the biggest and most important project of his real estate career. It would define his life. He wanted to build a town with thousands of home sites, put his name on his own golf course despite being a lousy player, and call it a career.
A buzz came from the intercom.
Tyler Cy scrambled to answer.
It was his courier. “We have a package for Mr. and Mrs. Tyler Donnelly.”
“I’ll be right there.” Tyler Cy was still hurting. He winced a few times as he climbed the stairs and made it to the front door. He signed for the delivery. It was certified with a return receipt requested. His immediate reaction was that he thought that it was odd for a delivery to come to his home instead of the real estate office. He noticed that the return address was from Intercontinental Enterprises.
It looked more like a letter than a package. After taking possession he broke the seal on the envelope and unfolded the letter. A minute elapsed. And then two. Tyler Cy stood stunned trying to totally understand what he had just read.
He reread the letter. Then he searched the envelope for more contents. The insurance company sent a notification explaining that a check would be sent to the guardians of Jayla Donnelly in the amount of $1,500,000 and was to be placed in a trust by her guardians, Tyler Cy Donnelly and Shari Daniels-Donnelly, until her 21st birthday. The proceeds represented the amount on a life insurance policy to be paid to the benefactor, Jayla Donnelly, for the untimely death of Richard W. Richards, her biological father.
Chapter Sixty-Six
It took Tyler Cy all of a minute to pick up the phone and call his attorney, Truman Stewart. Overnight he gathered his thoughts. Within a day he was in to see Truman.
“Hey, we haven’t talked in a while,” Truman began. “Is everything okay?”
“You knew I tore up my knee and I’ve been at home rehabbing it.”
“Yes.”
“Other than that I’m just fine except I’m in minor shock right now.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know where to begin,” Tyler Cy responded. “I’ll try to make it quick and concise.” He took a deep breath. “One of our family friends, Richie Richards was murdered several weeks ago. The cops came around asking questions so I hired Frankie Shivetta.”
“That’s a good move.”
“I thought so too. He’s kept the heat out of our home.” Tyler Cy took a breath. “Anyway he told us to live life like nothing happened and we’ve been doing that. Yesterday I got a delivery from an insurance company.”
“What was that for?”
“It was a notification indicating that they would be sending a check for one and a half million to be placed in trust for our youngest daughter, Jayla. The proceeds came from an insurance policy placed on the life of Richard W. Richards.” Tyler Cy paused. “And in case you were wondering why, the letter went on to say that he is or was her biological father.”
“Holy shit. You’ve got to be kidding?”
“No, I’m holding the letter right now.” He reached in his coat pocket and produced the letter. “I mean, I never knew that…” Tyler Cy teared up then composed himself. “We were doing a lot of things socially with him and Becca way back then, but I never knew that…” Tyler Cy was sobbing now, the conversation was cut off.
“Okay. Okay. Calm down,” Truman urged. “Obviously there has to be some truth as to who the father is. Do you dispute the possibility?”
“Knowing my wife the way I know her, it doesn’t surprise me.”
“I mean, if you want to challenge the very fact of who the father is then we can order a DNA check.” He opened the envelope and started reading the letter.
Tyler Cy thought for a second. “No, Shari and I are both going to hav
e to sign the check when it arrives and set up a trust. We’ll have to have a talk about this and I’m sure that it will be very difficult for her to admit what has happened.”
Truman’s mind was on overdrive too. “It strengthens your case in the divorce proceedings.” He took a moment to let the comment sink in. “I’ll have to give Leslie a call and let her know that some of her demands are out of line and in light of this information we’re going to have to insist that all parties have a meeting.”
“Truman, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. I love that little girl. I’ve raised her as if she was my own. I do not under any circumstances want to drag her through a messy divorce, or, for that matter, let this information leak to her at this delicate time in her life.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Truman concluded. Thanks to Shari’s promiscuity, the attorney’s fees increased exponentially.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
At the police department Lester J and Bazz had received valuable information from not one, but two sources. Some of what they had was good news but other information muddied up a muddy situation further. It was time to go back to the think tank.
“What did the cameras show?” Lester J asked as he finished off a breakfast sandwich.
Bazz inserted the tape into a video player and let it run. “We may have found our man.” Coming from the opposite direction was a guy on a motorcycle. After Richards made a left the guy turned in behind him.
“We can see by the timer in the lower right corner that Richards went through the intersection at 5:35:42.” Bazz said as he stopped the tape. “You were on the money with your estimate.”
Bazz restarted the tape and fast forwarded it. “Now look. The motorcycle comes from the opposite direction at 5:36:28.”
“It’s almost as if he was waiting out of frame looking for a specific make and model car,” Lester J added.
“Yeah, it’s 46 seconds later.” The camera stays focused on the intersection. No cars are seen. “Nothing travels through the intersection.” One minute passes, then another. “Now look.” The motorcycle reappears at 5:39:11, stops quickly, makes a right and heads in the direction Richards originally came from.