by Maria Milot
“Have you been able to sleep?” she quietly asked.
“Not really. But I’ve been thinking…” he stared back down into his coffee cup.
Maddie patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts.
Finally, he continued, “I want to have a memorial service for Ken. It’s the least I can do… since this is all my fault.”
“Okay. I can help you with a service but how is any of this your fault?”
Jared had buried his face down into his hands.
“Listen, Jared, if there is something you need to tell me, I promise I will do whatever I can to help you. My friend, Jack, is the lead detective on this case. He can get you the best deal possible.”
“What?” Jared raised his face up and shook his head in disbelief. “Do you think I killed my best friend?”
Maddie was just as surprised at her own words and stammered, “I don’t know. It’s just you seem so…’’
“Guilty? I am guilty. I’m guilty of bringing him to that damn party. I’m guilty of fighting with him.” Jared’s cheeks flushed. His eyes had become glossy and wet. “I’m guilty of trusting him. I’m guilty of being angry that I will not get answers to questions I want answered. And if you think I am guilty of murder, then why are you even sitting here with me?”
Maddie recognized the raw emotion in Jared’s eyes. She had seen it in the mirror after she lost Mr. Whitmore. She formed a deliberate thought and delivered it slowly. “I don’t think you are a killer. I think you are distraught, as you should be, and I apologize for even suggesting anything else. Please, Jared, I know what it is like to lose someone very close to you. I want to help you through this.” She laid her hands over his.
Her hands looked so small but felt so warm. He felt their warmth radiating out to his fingertips and closed his eyes. I can do this, he thought.
FORTY-ONE
Bob’s mustang rumbled past the police station and pulled into a spot marked for visitors. Friggin' police. Nothing routine about their questions. I got questions too. But that little prick really pissed me off. Just wish I had taken my time and gotten more information out of that little weasel before he died.
Jack McCarthy escorted Bob into a small room the department called ‘the fishbowl’ as two of the room’s four walls were comprised of windows which met at a right angle.
“Thank you for coming in Mr. Lackey.” Jack directed Bob toward one of four chairs set around a narrow, rectangular, black wooden table. He waited for Bob to take a seat then took up a position across the table from him. Jack opened a manila file folder, clicked the top of a pen, and addressed Bob. “As I said on the phone, we’re taking statements from attendees of the Historic Society gala. I noticed that although you were at the event, you haven’t given an account of the evening yet.”
Bob crossed his arms over his chest before he spoke. “Ok, what do you want to know?”
“I understand you drive a very distinctive car, Mr. Lackey.”
Bob gave a brief chuckle. “Yeah, distinctive and distinguished. Why? This Ken guy get run over or something?”
“No.” Jack tilted the manila folder up, so its contents were not visible to Bob. “A valet confirms that you left the party before the police were called to the scene of the crime.”
Bob shrugged. His arms still folded but his tone a bit more defensive. “So? Is it a crime to leave a party?”
“Of course not, Mr. Lackey. I’m just trying to create a timeline with anyone who might have seen Ken. So what time did you leave the party?”
“I don’t know. Whatever time the valet says I did.”
Jack flipped through a couple pages in the folder. He quickly scanned a statement from Maddie. His eyes settled on the information he wanted. “Did you have any interaction with Ken Tate?”
Bob looked around the room as if he was searching for an answer. “Look, I never met this guy, Ken, before. So any interactions I had were all because your friend Maddie introduced us.”
“Okay Mr. Lackey. So I have a witness who gave an account of you asking some questions about Ken. Can you elaborate on your interest in Ken Tate?”
“My interest in asking about Ken Tate is that I’m a business guy. I heard he was a business guy. So, I had a potential business interest in Ken Tate.” Bob gave Jack a very satisfactory grin.
“Did your business interest extend to following him and interacting with him outside, just prior to his death?”
“No,” Bob was quick to answer.
“See, I also have a witness who saw you go outside directly behind Ken Tate close to the time period we have assigned to his dying.”
Bob cast looks around the fishbowl room again. He was not so quick to answer this time. “Yeah, I did go outside. I’m a smoker. I went out a few times that night to have a butt. If I happened to go out at the same time as Ken Tate, it was pure coincidence.”
Jack McCarthy studied his file folder another minute. Either this guy is telling the truth or he can think on his feet. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got nothing else to throw at him right now. “Thank you for coming in Mr. Lackey.”
FORTY-TWO
Officer Sanders tapped his index finger on Jack’s metal desk. “Medical examiner is here with the autopsy report.”
Jack stood up, grabbed his file folder and a pen. “Great. Let’s go into the fishbowl.”
The medical examiner arranged her photographs along the length of the black wooden table. “So, Detective McCarthy and Officer Sanders, here’s what we’ve got. Time of death between 10:30 p.m. and 11:00 p.m. Cause of death, strangulation. Technically his trachea was crushed, along with a cervical vertebra.”
The medical examiner pointed to a photograph of Ken Tate’s purple and black discolored throat. “See the bruising on the neck is consistent with a manual strangulation. No ligature used. Also, the bruising pattern indicates the victim struggled.”
“So, is it possible to get fingerprints from his neck?” Jack asked.
The medical examiner took in a deep breath. “Well, if your killer wore gloves then we won’t get anything.”
“Talk about pre-meditation,” Officer Sanders chimed in. “I mean gloves on a hot summer night?”
“Right,” the medical examiner nodded. “So bare hands leave us with a good news, bad news situation.”
Jack perked up and encouraged, “Go on.”
“So, the good news is that it was a humid night. Which can be useful to trigger latent, invisible prints.” The examiner again waved her hand toward a close-up picture of Ken Tate’s neck. She had Jack and Sanders’ full attention. “So latent prints can be reproduced from moisture ridges left behind from finger prints.” Before Jack or Officer Sanders could speak, she held up a cautionary hand. “However, while it is possible to get a print it is very difficult to get a clean print. Bear in mind that prints can be lost during a struggle, dirt can contaminate the prints, plus a variety of other factors including the victim’s own sweat can ruin prints. So, I’m telling you it’s a long shot but we can try.”
“Okay. What else did you get?” Jack asked.
The examiner scanned her notes. “There’s no skin under the victim’s nails. So he didn’t catch his killer’s skin, but there were some fibers. I’m running a search right now to get you some specifics.” The examiner walked to the end of the table and pointed to another photo on display. “The bruising on the knees indicates he fell down hard, probably while fighting. There were some hairs on the victim’s jacket that didn’t belong to him, but it’s inconclusive as they could belong to anyone at the event that night not just your killer.”
Jack continued to take in the photos as he asked, “What about the tox screen?”
The medical examiner shuffled to another page of her notes. “Right. Toxicology report indicates presence of alcohol but not enough to be over the legal limit and there were no drugs in his system, legal or illegal.”
Jack paced around the table absorbing each photo before he spoke. “So we know our
killer was big enough to overpower our victim. We are assuming a man.”
Officer Sanders gave an affirmative nod, knowing this was a statement not a question.
Jack circled back to a photo of Ken Tate’s throat. “But this method of murder is personal, almost intimate.” He ran his hand over the neck in the photo. “As opposed to a gunshot it’s literally a hands-on, physical connection. This type of killing is a commitment. It’s not over fast. It requires struggle, strength, and time.” Jack’s observations quietly hung in the room for a moment.
Officer Sanders spoke up, “Well my money is on this being an impulsive act. A crime of passion, if you will. The killer may not have planned to murder Ken Tate that night. Perhaps something at the party set our killer off?”
◆◆◆
Jack sat on the edge of a chair in Captain Larry Todd’s office. “We have a pretty good time line for Ken Tate’s movements the night of the party, and who he had contact with, sir.”
Captain Todd nodded his approval. “Go on.”
“The point of contact that stands out is our victim’s fight with Jared Diamond. I’ve interviewed Diamond a couple of times now. He maintains they had a fight over some missing money from his business but after the fight he claims he never saw Ken again.”
“Do you believe him?” Captain Todd asked
Jack blew out a sigh. “Here’s the thing, I might have a conflict of interest clouding my judgement.”
Captain Todd’s brow furrowed as he quizzed, “How so?”
“My fiancé’s best friend, Maddie, who’s my friend too is actually dating Jared Diamond.” Jack watched as the Captain processed this information.
The deep eleven’s between the Captain’s brows smoothed out. He pursed his lips into a pucker before he relaxed them and spoke. “First off Jack, I’ve been watching you from the start of this investigation and your judgement seems very clear. Second, don’t view this as a conflict but rather a way to get more information. Think about it, if you have access to Diamond in a casual setting you can earn his trust. He might let out much more information than he would ever give up in a formal police setting.”
“Captain with all due respect if this guy is our killer, I don’t want him anywhere near my fiancé or our friend.”
“That’s a good point Jack, but you’re a smart man, you’re a good cop. I think you can assess the situation, protect your family and friend, and protect the integrity of this investigation. Use your unique position to keep a close eye on this guy.”
Jack dropped his gaze to the floor and rubbed his forehead. “You’re right. I’m in a better position to protect the people I care about and move the investigation along if I keep this guy close.”
FORTY-THREE
James Cooper surveyed a collection of car keys hanging on hooks. He bypassed the keys to his Bentley opting for his usual incognito vehicle, Winston’s black Range Rover.
Although the Range Rover’s blackout windows hid him, James instinctively ducked his head as he recognized Madison Marcelle running towards the steps of St. Joseph’s church. He traveled one more block then turned his car sharply to the right off of Broadway. He eased the SUV into a spot between the club’s back door and a dumpster which, as it always had in the past, provided complete cover from the street.
◆◆◆
Sarah Byron knew Ken wasn’t a very nice guy. In fact, he could be downright cruel. Still, she couldn’t believe he was dead. Sarah was an avid reader of the Newport News obituaries. One of her favorite hobbies was to attend funeral and memorial services, partly because she liked to get dressed up. Partly since it was such an emotional time it made her feel like a real friend when she could comfort someone in their time of need. As luck would have it, she actually knew Ken. This one will be special, she thought as she tugged down on the netting of her purple felt hat.
◆◆◆
Sarah took up her usual seat, always the last pew nearest to the door. She looked at the mourners there to pay their respect. She recognized Jared Diamond up in the first pew where the family would normally be seated.
So weird, Maddie thought. That looked like Winston’s car. I didn’t notice the plate though and besides, what would he be doing around here? He didn’t even know Ken Tate. Oh gosh, I can’t believe I’m so late to this! Maddie ran up the steps and crept into the church where the service had already started. She had told Jared she would meet him there but since he was up in the first pew she thought it best to just catch up to him on the way out. She looked around to see if she recognized anyone from the gala. Maybe someone who might be a lead to what happened to Ken. Mostly what she noticed was the sparse number of people in attendance. She ducked into the last pew near the door.
Sarah Byron gave her a smile, then slid closer to Maddie so they could talk. She leaned close to Maddie’s face and whispered, “Hi. I’m Sarah.” Sarah could barely contain her excitement for the chance to talk about Ken. She explained she worked in the same office building as the deceased.
Maddie scooted a couple inches toward the armrest at the end of the pew to reclaim some of the personal space Sarah had invaded. She could feel Sarah staring at her but she refused to make eye contact. Instead, she focused on the soprano singer at the front of the church belting out a hymnal.
Aloof to social cues, Sarah’s chatter was undeterred. She confessed to Maddie one of the reasons she came to the service for Ken was she was hoping to see if there was anyone who thought he might have been a nice person.
Now she had Maddie’s attention. “What do you mean by that?” Maddie asked while keeping her gaze fixed on the singer.
Sarah described how they would run into each other in the lobby or the elevator, and how sometimes his mail would end up in her office. “I went out of my way to be friendly to him. But he always seemed annoyed with me. Not at all like when I would see him with his buddy Jared Diamond.”
Maddie turned to face Sarah as she continued to talk. “See the guy sitting up there in the front row?” Sarah pointed with her index finger. “You can’t miss him. He’s the only one up there other than the altar boy. He’s super cute and very rich.”
“How do you know Jared?” Maddie asked.
“Oh, I don’t. I mean I’ve seen him at the office but I only know what I’ve read in the magazines or seen on TV. Still, I’m very perceptive and I can just tell he’s a good person. In fact, he’s the reason I thought Ken might be a decent guy. I would see them together leaving our building for lunch, or wherever it was they went. He and Ken were always laughing and smiling. Made me think Ken must have a fun side.”
The service ended. Jared was the first person to solemnly proceed down the aisle. Maddie quickly stepped out and joined pace behind him having determined her gossipy pew mate had nothing more to contribute to her inquiry of what happened to Ken other than that he wasn’t very nice and he wasn’t very popular.
◆◆◆
At six foot five inches in heels, Genesis commanded the stage. She was a true queen in every respect. Despite the nearly two foot tall butterfly precariously perched on her head she effortlessly glided to the microphone. She surveyed the audience. Her drag shows drew an eclectic crowd, mostly regulars, to the club. She spied James Cooper, alone at a corner table. As a mistress of transformation, James’ attempts at disguise always made her smile. Looks like I’ll be pocketing a nice chunk of extra cash tonight. Just need to find someone with thick skin and a need for money more than morals, she thought.
Genesis elegantly waved her long silver nails, introduced the next act, and backed off the stage. She entered Miss Muff’s dressing room. “I have a special job for you this evening right after the show.”
Miss Muff turned away from the mirror. Her gruff voice inquired, “Should I bother taking off my makeup?”
“That won’t be necessary. Pick out a dress you don’t care about and have some Advil handy,” Genesis instructed.
FORTY-FOUR
“Winston!” Lolly called out in an
exasperated tone.
Winston appeared at his mother’s side. “I am right here.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I just need to be sure you have this information.” Lolly shook the paper in her hand and laid it down on the kitchen counter. “I’ve been like a whirling dervish getting things ready for our trip to France. You would not believe the amount of work I’ve had to do. It’s just so—”
Winston cut her off before she went on a tirade about how hard it was to get the staff to perform in a timely manner. “Yes, Mother, you work very hard. I will miss you very much.”
His comments pulled her attention back to why she had called Winston to her in the first place. “Oh, I hate leaving you here all alone.”