We drove in silence for a few minutes. “Tell me about the bike ride.”
“It’s a three-day rally that takes place in mid-June. There’s a big concert with several bands on Friday night. Saturday there’s a parade, what they call a cruise in, which is really cool. There are vintage and custom bikes. Some of the bikes these guys have created are just mind boggling. The bike show gives people a chance to see them up close and personal, you vote for your favorite one, and trophies are awarded to the winners in the afternoon. There’s another concert that night. The bike ride is on Sunday afternoon.”
“Wow, sounds a bit like Sturgis.”
“Not nearly as wild as Sturgis,” Jake said.
“May I ask you a question?”
“About…?”
“Ethan.”
I saw him tense up for a second, then he relaxed and said, “What do you want to know?”
“Do you think Jessica was the first girl he…”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She’s just the first one who spoke out against him.”
“Makes you wonder just how many others are out there. I mean, I know we’ve talked about it before, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Do you think his father would provide us with any information?”
“I highly doubt it. Ethan would have gone to prison a long time ago if his father hadn’t paid off a lot of people.”
“Because he was too worried about the family name more than making sure his son took responsibility for his actions.”
“Basically,” Jake replied as we entered the Marion city limits. “That’s where Edward and my father are different. If I did something wrong, my father made me own up to it, and grounded me for weeks at at time, depending on how bad I screwed up. It didn’t happen too often; I didn’t like disappointing him or Mother.”
“Having met your mother, I can understand that. She’s a lovely woman. Where are we meeting Edward?”
“At The Black Rooster Restaurant in the General Francis Marion Hotel.” He explained the historical background of the hotel. Named for the general known as “The Swamp Fox” during the Revolutionary War, it had been a popular destination for tourists and locals when it first opened during the late 1920s. But the small hotel lost its opulence, and couldn’t compete with the big chain hotels that opened along the main roads. A local millionaire bought the hotel in 2000, and spent millions of dollars to return it to its former glory.
When we pulled up in front of the hotel, I was impressed. The ground floor was painted beige, with tall windows along the front. There appeared to be a balcony over the front door, and a brown awning hung over it. The top three floors were brown brick, with dozens of windows looking out over the downtown area. To the right, a black sign with the words “The Black Rooster Restaurant” hung over a red door. There was a small white, diamond shape to the left of the letters, where a black rooster with red tail feathers stood over a cocktail.
We walked through the red door, and I saw a tall bar with several black backed barstools with wooden seats to the left as soon as we walked in. The young lady behind the bar was busy mixing a drink in a cocktail shaker. To the right, there were small round tables with table size versions of the barstools. Rolled black cloth napkins sat on top of the table in front of each chair, and a black leather menu sat in the middle of each table.
Jake looked around for Edward, and I found myself scanning the room myself. My eyes stopped when I spotted a man on the other side of the room, and I grabbed Jake’s arm as I felt my heart start to pound faster. “What’s the matter?” Jake said.
“Across the room,” I whispered. “I just saw Ethan.”
He looked over. “That’s not Ethan,” he assured me. “That’s Edward.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I promise.”
“They could be twins,” I said as we walked over to Edward’s table.
“People said that a lot, especially when they were together.”
We stopped next to the table as Edward stood up. “Jacob, it’s good to see you again,” he said, shaking Jake’s hand. “And this must be Ms. Crenshaw.” He held out his hand to me.
I hesitated for a moment before shaking hands with him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Winthrop,” I replied, resisting the urge to wipe my hand on my pants.
He gave me a sympathetic look. “From your reaction, I’m sure that’s not true. I’m assuming my son is responsible for your visceral reaction to seeing me when you walked in.”
“I’m sorry.”
Edward shook his head. “Nothing to apologize for, Ms. Crenshaw. I know the type of pain my son inflicted on women. Please, sit down.”
I took the seat across the table from him, while Jake sat on my left. The young lady who had been behind the bar brought a cocktail glass over, placing it on a napkin in front of Edward. “What can I get you two to drink?”
“Sweet tea for me, please.”
“I’ll have the same,” Jake said.
She nodded and walked away. “I recommend the filet mignon,” Edward said, “or the grilled Atlantic Salmon. Both excellent dishes.”
What I really wanted was the General Burger, but you don’t go to a fancy restaurant to eat a burger, so I chose the 8 oz sirloin. Jake had the salmon and Edward selected the filet mignon. The two of them made small talk for a few minutes, while I sipped my tea and tried not to stare at Edward.
“How many other women were there, Edward?” Jake said out of the blue.
“Rather blunt, don’t you think?” he replied.
“Well, we could sit here and continue to make small talk, while Lizzie resists the urge to run out the front door, or we can just talk about the real reason we’re here. Your choice.”
“Is he right, Ms. Crenshaw?” Edward said, looking at me. I could only nod. “I see. Tell me what happened between you and Ethan.”
I gasped. Jake put his hand in mine, and gently squeezed. “I don’t think that is an appropriate comment,” he said. “Asking her to talk about this in public. She barely talks to any of us about it.”
“I have spent years cleaning up my son’s mistakes, Jacob. I’ve never asked any questions from any woman who has accused him of…the things they claim he did to them. Ms. Crenshaw is the only woman who has not come to me and demanded money. I can only assume that he didn’t do much, if anything, to her.”
“You’re as big of an ass as your son, Mr. Winthrop,” I said.
Edward’s eyes went wide in surprise. “And you’re rather rude, Ms. Crenshaw.”
“You want to know what your son did to me?” I replied, pulling my hand away from Jake.
“Lizzie, don’t.”
I pushed up my sleeve a little and showed him my bruised wrist. “He did this for starters.” I shoved the sleeve higher so he could see the bruises on my upper arm. “And this, on both arms. He tore my dress, he assaulted me not once, but twice. He was warned not to contact me, told not to send things to my home or my office. He laughed at me, and did whatever he wanted to.” I slid my sleeve back down. “I’ve hardly slept the last three weeks. I have nightmares about what might have happened if a police officer hadn’t stopped your son in time. I can’t go to my office because every time I do, the whole thing plays out in my mind over and over. I’m living my life in fear, Mr. Winthrop, and your son is to blame. As for your money, I don’t need it, and even if I did, I wouldn’t ask you for anything. It won’t help me forget, and it won’t change what happened. Now, does that satisfy you, or do you need to see the police and medical reports, the pictures?”
None of us realized the waitress was standing there until she cleared her throat. “Would you like me to come back with your food after you’ve finished talking?” she asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Jake said.
She served Jake and Edward first before putting my plate down in front of me. Then she did something that surprised me: she leaned over and gave me a hug. “You tell him, girl,” she whispered in my e
ar. “Don’t back down, and don’t give up.”
I watched her hurry away. I had the feeling she had been through a similar experience. She grabbed a napkin from behind the bar and wiped her eyes.
No one said anything for a few minutes. We each focused on our plates, but after what I said, I only managed to eat half of my food. I ended up twisting my napkin in my lap while the two of them ate.
Edward put his fork down and cleared his throat. “Ms. Crenshaw, I apologize,” he said quietly. “I had no idea what my son put you through. His explanation of things was much tamer than what you said. He told me it was merely a misunderstanding, and that he would soon be able to straighten things out.”
“Misunderstanding, my…” Jake started to say, but I put my hand on his arm and shook my head.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Edward said. “Pay for counseling, build you a new office, something?”
“No, Mr. Winthrop. I don’t need anything.”
The waitress cleared the table, and brought us fresh drinks. “I understand that the two of you found Ethan’s body.”
“We did,” Jake said.
“On your front porch, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How did that happen?”
“We don’t know for sure, Mr. Winthrop,” I told him. “A truck similar to the one Jake has been driving was spotted at a convenience store, and we believe that the killer used it to transport his body to Jake’s house. It was my little dog that actually found Ethan. He was disguised as a scarecrow that had been propped up on the front steps of the house. Mittens tugged on the overalls and pulled him down. That’s when we knew it was Ethan.”
“That must have been a very difficult thing for you to see, Ms. Crenshaw.”
“It was.”
Edward leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. “The police tell me that he was shot several times. Is that what they told you?”
“Yes.” I took a drink of my tea, wondering if I should tell him the rest.
“But…?” he replied.
I looked at Jake, who shrugged. “He may have been shot with two different guns.”
“Why?” he said, clearly confused.
“We think there is more than one person involved.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s a possible scenario,” Jake said. “The question is, how many people wanted him dead?”
“Besides you and Ms. Crenshaw, you mean?”
I saw Jake’s eyes flash, and I knew he was about to do something stupid. “Yes, Mr. Winthrop, besides us.”
“Do you two have solid alibis?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about you, Edward?” Jake said. “Do you have an alibi?”
Edward choked on his drink. Looking outraged, he slammed his glass down. “What are you insinuating, Jacob?”
“I know for a fact that your company currently is negotiating an important business deal with a Japanese company. They hate any type of negative press, and having the owner’s son accused of sexual assault would certainly kill your deal. How do we know you didn’t hire someone to kill Ethan in order to save the negotiations?”
“That would make me a rather heartless jerk, wouldn’t it?”
“Certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone’s called you that,” Jake said cheerfully. “I know I’ve called you that and worse over the years.”
Edward took a deep breath before replying. “I did not kill my son.”
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t dirty your hands by doing it yourself, Edward.”
“That’s enough,” I said quietly. I took another sip of my tea. “How many women have there been over the years?”
“Too many to count,” Edward said, glaring at Jake before focusing on me.
“Were there any that were more upset than some of the others?”
“Are you suggesting that someone from his past assignations…” I winced at that word. What happened between the two of us were not assignations; more like full frontal assaults. “…is responsible for my son’s death?”
“We think it’s a possibility,” Jake replied.
Edward looked over at the bar, and got the waitress’ attention. “Let me tell you what I think. I think the two of you murdered my son, cooked up some alibis with your friends, and are now trying to accuse some innocent people for your crime.” He stood up, picked up his black overcoat and slipped it on. Reaching into his breast pocket, he took out his wallet, removed some cash, and thrust it at the waitress. “I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that you get the punishment you so richly deserve. Nice act, Ms. Crenshaw. You had me going there for a while. Jacob, I will be speaking to your father about this.” He brushed past the waitress, and stormed out the front door.
“That went well,” I sarcastically said.
“You want some dessert?” the waitress asked us. “The cinnamon and sugar beignets are delicious, and so is the apple tart ala mode. Your friend gave me more than enough money to pay for it.”
“It’s getting late,” I said. “Do we have time for dessert?”
“Edward’s paying for it, why not? Bring one of each dessert you mentioned.”
“What now? We didn’t get any useful information from him.”
“We go home tonight and regroup. If my father is home, I’ll talk to him.”
Edward sat in the back of his Town Car. He pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number. “It’s me.”
“Yes, Mr. Winthrop?”
“They’re at the Black Rooster. The Mathias boy drove his mother’s Lexus. It’s chocolate brown.” He rattled off the license plate number. “Do it.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Winthrop. Not a problem.”
Chapter 22
It was after 7 p.m. before we got back on the road. It was dark by then, which made me more nervous about going down that winding road. “I’m guessing anyone with half a brain doesn’t drive this road at night?” I asked Jake as we went around a hairpin turn.
“Are you trying to say I’m an idiot?”
“You know I would never say that to you…not out loud, anyway. But I might make an exception tonight.”
With just the headlights illuminating them, the bare trees looked menacing. If given half a chance, those branches would reach out, grab us, and crumple the car like a piece of paper. I felt a cold chill go up my spine.
“You doing okay over there?” Jake said.
“Yippie skippie.” I turned my head to look at him. “Do you think Edward really believes we killed Ethan?”
“He’s a stubborn man who’s used to getting what he wants. Right now, he wants answers. Doesn’t matter if they are right or wrong. Ethan meant the world to him. He wanted Ethan to run the company with him, make it this big giant of the corporate world.”
“But Ethan had other plans.”
“And they were never in line with what his father wanted. Edward spent a couple of million dollars bailing Ethan out of trouble, hoping that he would finally grow up.”
“Poor Edward. How disappointing for him.” I looked out the window as we neared a yellow highway sign, and I thought I saw a flash of light reflect off the shiny surface. “But that doesn’t sound like love to me. More like domination.”
“Yeah, it did seem that way at times,” Jake said. “I never saw him show Ethan much affection.”
“What about his mother?”
“She died when Ethan was three. Cancer, I think. Edward didn’t know what to do with Ethan, so he hired a nanny to take care of him. Ethan spent more time with her than he did with Edward. But if he needed something, Edward got it for him, no questions asked. But he exacted a high price for it.”
“You mean he wanted Ethan to do what he wanted him to do, and didn’t give Ethan any room to disagree?”
“Pretty much.”
“Where was Edward the night Jessica was killed?”
“Where in the world did that come from?” Jake said. I could hear the
surprise in his voice. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Mrs. Simpkins gave Ethan a strong alibi, which means he couldn’t have killed Jessica. You just said that Edward was willing to do anything for Ethan, so that makes me wonder…”
“…if Edward killed Jessica to keep his son out of jail,” Jake finished. “You can’t be serious, Lizzie.”
“I’m just thinking out loud.”
“I don’t think Edward would go that far, not even for his son.”
The interior of the car seemed a bit brighter, and I looked over my shoulder. “Looks like someone else decided to take the evening death ride.”
Jake checked his side mirror. “Well, I wish he would back off a bit. He’s getting a bit too close.”
“I’m sure he’ll slow down when we get to the next curve.”
On the next curve, whoever was behind us got closer. Way too close. They tapped the back bumper, jerking us forward against the seatbelts. “What the hell?” Jake said, gripping the steering wheel harder as he negotiated a turn. “Tighten your seatbelt.”
I did as he asked before looking out the back window. “He’s speeding up.”
Jake sped up, taking the next curve a little too fast for my comfort. The other car slowed down, apparently not feeling quite as daring. “Can you tell what kind of car it is?”
“Not really. The headlights are blinding me. I just see little green spots before my eyes.”
“My shades are in the glove box.”
They were sitting right on top. Putting them on, I turned around again. “Here he comes again. The lights are up high.”
“So it’s a truck.”
WHAM! The truck slammed into us harder than the first time. The left side of my face bounced off the headrest, sending the shades flying into the floorboard. “What is he trying to do?” Jake growled.
“Did you really just ask that, Mathias?” I said. “I’d say he’s trying to wreck us out. Wouldn’t you?”
“It was a rhetorical question, Lizzie.”
Death Vetoes The Chairman (Lizzie Crenshaw Mysteries Book 7) Page 17