“It’s not that straightforward,” I say. “Reece isn’t old-fashioned per se; he’s interested in preserving Sorenson’s small-town atmosphere, culture, and history. He isn’t just a developer, he’s been the developer in Sorenson for the past two decades. Then along comes Lars, who starts stealing some of Reece’s business and constructing the sort of stuff Reece is opposed to, like that row of cheap town houses that went up over by Bailey Park, the new condo units on the north edge of town, and the big box store Lars tried to slip in two years ago.”
Judy shrugs off my correction and says, “Point is, Lars and Reece didn’t get along. In fact, the two of them had a very heated exchange at the Nowhere Bar last week about this latest chunk of land out on the east end that the new mayor wants to turn into a combination residential area and shopping mecca. When Reece found out the mayor was talking to Lars about it instead of him, he got pretty bent. Though I don’t know why he was surprised. I mean, it’s exactly the kind of development that Reece is against. Plus, Lars was the one putting in the time with the connections lately, you know?”
Hurley and I both shake our heads.
Judy sighs the way she might over a child who doesn’t quite get it. “Lars goes down to the Sorenson Grill every Saturday morning for breakfast and he sits in with a group of older men who have been gathering there for breakfast on Saturdays for years. Some of those guys are aldermen, and all of them have the mayor’s ear. Lars managed to worm his way right into the middle of their inner circle, and that resulted in him hearing about development plans and future farm sales that were coming down the line before they became public knowledge. Lars beat Reece out on several land sales and other deals recently, and Reece has made it known that he’s none too happy about it.”
“Did Reece ever threaten Lars that you know of?”
Judy screws her face up in thought for a few seconds. “He never came right out and said he was going to kill him or anything like that,” she says eventually. “Least not as far as I know. But he did tell Lars that he was going to find a way to stop him when they had that to-do down at the Nowhere.”
“Do you happen to have Mr. Morton’s contact information?” Hurley asks her.
“Sure do,” she says with a smile that borders on smug. She writes down the information on a slip of paper and hands it over to Hurley. “Anything else I can help you with, Detective?”
“Yes, there is. I’m going to have some officers and an evidence tech come down here to go through Mr. Sanderson’s office. I’ll need you to stay out of his office from here on, but if you can be nearby to answer any questions they may have, it would be helpful.”
Judy’s expression is mixed. “I’m happy to help out however I can,” she says, “but Lars has confidential information in his papers and files, and I can’t let that stuff leave. We take our clients’ privacy concerns very seriously.”
Hurley reaches over and puts a hand on Judy’s shoulder. Then he turns on what I refer to as his Casanova smile. The combination of that smile and those cornflower blue eyes staring down at you is like being under a deep hypnosis. You’re willing to do anything he asks of you, and you’re imagining—at least in my case—all kinds of naughty things you’d like to do for him, to him, and with him. I know it works on other women besides me. I’ve seen it in action.
“I hope Lars knew what a great catch he had in you,” Hurley says to Judy. “Your dedication and devotion are truly admirable. I’m sure Lars couldn’t have been as successful as he was without you at his side.”
Judging from Judy’s rapt expression I suspect she is blushing, though it’s hard to tell because of the thick plaster of makeup on her face. Clearly she is not immune to Hurley’s charms, and I can tell Hurley knows it.
He continues his seductive persuasion. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep your reputation safe, Ms. Bennett. Anything we take from this office will be kept securely under lock and key, and we’ll only take what is relevant to our investigation. That’s where you can help us out. Any background information you can provide about specific people or business dealings will help us figure out which ones might be important. Judy, you could be the key to solving this case and finding Lars’s murderer.”
The switch from the more formal Ms. Bennett to Judy is a calculated move on Hurley’s part, along with the accompanying softening of his voice. When I asked him about it once, he told me he’d learned years ago that he could use his charms to manipulate suspects and witnesses in order to get whatever information or cooperation he wants from them. When I asked him if he’d used it on me when we first met—and at that time I was very much a suspect since the murder he was investigating was that of the woman David cheated on me with—he admitted that he had. “But with you it backfired,” he told me. “No matter how much I tried to charm you, you remained stubborn and bullheaded, and determined to do things your way. And oddly enough, I found that incredibly alluring.”
Go figure.
Judy is highly susceptible to Hurley’s magic and she nods her understanding of everything he has said while staring at him with a doe-eyed, gaga look. Hurley removes his hand from her shoulder and looks over at me. He winks, and then takes out his phone to make some calls. I take Judy back out to her desk, and steer her to her seat.
Hurley has battened down any defenses Judy might have had up, and I want to take advantage of that while I can. I settle in across from her, aim the camera at her, and hit the record button. “Tell me about Lars,” I say. “What sort of man was he? Was he easy to work for? Did he have a temper? Did he have any vices or secrets you knew about?”
Judy looks at me with a torn expression. “The man is dead,” she says. “I don’t want to sully his name.”
“So there is something?” I say, my radar beeping.
Judy doesn’t answer right away. I can tell the magic of Hurley is wearing off.
“It will just be between us,” I assure her. “It might help us catch who did this to him. And if it turns out it’s not relevant, there’s no need for us to make it known to anyone else.”
Judy bites her lip, contemplating.
“Is it something to do with his business dealings?” I prompt. Then, recalling the drugs we found in Lars’s house I add, “Or a personal problem, perhaps?”
Judy brightens at this last question and jumps on it . . . a little too eagerly for my tastes, and not in the direction I had hoped. “I did hear that some of the women in his life were getting tired of being strung along and were demanding more exclusivity.”
“Anything else?” I ask, pushing a little harder.
Before she can answer, Hurley announces Bob Richmond and an officer will be arriving momentarily to start working on securing Lars’s office and going through its contents. This news seems to make Judy nervous, but I can’t tell if it’s the news or Hurley’s renewed attention on her.
“For the record, Ms. Bennett,” Hurley says, “can you tell me where you were this morning between the hours of five and eight?”
Judy’s expression of adoration shifts to one of disbelief. “You don’t seriously think I had anything to do with Lars’s death, do you?”
“Of course not,” he says quickly, smiling and trying to reestablish his rapport with her. “But in order to have a thorough investigation, we have to ask everyone who knew Lars. It helps us rule out the people who are innocent so we can focus our attention on the more likely suspects. I promise you, it’s just routine.”
Judy looks mildly placated but still slightly offended, and I sense that any chance I might have had of getting her to divulge any of Lars’s deep dark secrets is gone. And her answer to Hurley’s question doesn’t further our cause much. “I was home in bed until I got up at seven. Then I got ready for work and came here. I stopped at that little drive-through coffee shop to get a latte and a muffin.” She gestures toward the trash can beside her desk and I see the cup and an empty muffin wrapper on top of the other garbage. “Other than my stop at the cof
fee shop, I can’t prove any of the rest of it. I live alone, unless you want to count my cats.”
So far, I can’t see any motive Judy would have for wanting Lars dead, but I do think she might be worth another look or chat in the near future. She may not be a killer but she is the type of nearly invisible yet ever-present person who sees and overhears a lot of things, and I suspect she knows more about our victim than she’s letting on.
Chapter 8
A uniformed officer named Grant Culpeper, who’s new to the force, arrives along with Bob Richmond, another detective in town who recently returned to full-time work after being semi-retired. Bob has been on a new diet and exercise plan that turned his four-hundred-plus-pounds body into a fit and shapely two-sixty that he carries well thanks to his height. He looks fantastic, and he’s been after me to meet him at the gym as often as I can ever since Matthew was born. The two of us were somewhat regular gym partners at one time—my effort to support him in his weight loss efforts—but I was forced to stop working out during the last half of my pregnancy. The neglect shows.
I’ve lost a decent amount of weight since the birth thanks to breast-feeding, a lack of sleep, and my constant activity, but I still have more to go and I could definitely use some toning, particularly in my tummy. Once I discovered I could order baby clothes from Amazon, I looked to see if I could buy clothes for myself. And of course I can. But because I have to order them without trying them on, I typically order several different sizes in any item I like. Then I return the ones that don’t fit. You’d think that finding a size that works in one item would help me order another item, but the sizes are so inconsistent as to be nearly useless. Plus, being pregnant really messed with my body, and things that used to fit don’t anymore. My bust is bigger—and it was hard enough to fit before the pregnancy. My thighs are, surprisingly, thinner, but my waist has thickened and my butt is wider than it used to be. Pregnancy even messed with my shoe size. Whereas before I was a solid size twelve—which is a hard enough size to find—I now need a twelve and a half. There isn’t a store within fifty miles of here that carries that size, but fortunately, Amazon does.
I haven’t spent a ton on new clothes because my body is still changing and I’m determined to lose more weight. I need to start thinking seriously about getting back to the gym, but I’ve been so exhausted that I’ve turned Richmond down every time he’s invited me to go along. Now that the doctor has released me from my state of celibacy, I need to rethink it all.
“Hey, Mattie,” Richmond says when he sees me. “Good to see you back on the job.”
“Good to be back, I think.”
“Want to hit up the gym with me later tonight?” One thing I can say about Richmond, he’s persistent.
“Thanks, but I’ve got a hair appointment after work that I desperately need to keep.”
Richmond and Culpeper both nod and eye my head with understanding, confirming how overdue I am.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I say noncommittally. Just thinking about going to the gym makes me feel tired.
After some brief instructions from Hurley, Richmond and Culpeper commandeer Lars’s office until more help can arrive. Richmond, like the other detectives, has his own camera since Charlotte can’t be in two places at once. She has trained all of the detectives on the equipment and techniques, and in addition to filming stuff herself, she is going to be in charge of downloading, storing, managing, and reviewing all the video we have, including any necessary court displays. That part of her job is going to grow considerably soon because now the uniformed officers are being equipped with body cams. All the recent publicity about police brutality has loosened up purse strings, and since the cost of the cameras is considerably less than that of the typical lawsuit, the people who control the money are starting to see the light. Video evidence is definitely the wave of the future.
Hurley brings Richmond up to speed on the case so far. After filling him in on our visit to Lars’s house and our run-in with Kirsten Donaldson, he tells Richmond that the plan for now is for Hurley and me to interview the rest of Sanderson’s girlfriends as well as his business associates, guys like Harry Olsen and Reece Morton. “And there’s someone named”—Hurley pauses and consults his notebook—“Hartwig Beckenbauer we need to talk to, as well. Apparently he has an ax to grind with Lars regarding some land his mother sold off to Sanderson. But first we have to find the guy. As for this place, we need to take a look at every piece of paper in here. I’ve got Jonas and Patrick Devonshire doing the same thing over at Sanderson’s house where he has a second office. You might want to see if there are any extra hands available, because both they and you could use the help. I’m sure the chief will approve calling in some extra hands if necessary.”
Richmond nods and takes out his cell phone. “I’ll get right on it,” he says. “If need be, we can call in the sheriff’s department.”
A small town like Sorenson doesn’t have a very big police department, and in situations like this, off-duty officers typically get called in for all kinds of extra stuff, everything from evidence collection and review, to stakeouts. While working extra is always voluntary, there is rarely any shortage of volunteers. Economic times are tough for a lot of folks right now so most of them grab at any overtime they can get. And both the state cops and the county sheriffs are used to chipping in to help when needed, too. While we prefer to keep the investigation as much within our own ranks as possible, sometimes bringing in outsiders can’t be helped.
Once Hurley is assured that help is on the way, we head out to his car. As he starts the engine I say, “Who do you think we should tackle first?”
“Let’s start with this other developer guy, Reece. And in the meantime, I’d like to get some background info on all these people: Reece, Harry Olsen, this Hartwig Beckenbauer guy, and the various girlfriends. Plus I want to look into the lawsuits Lars has had filed against him. I’m thinking we should put our new gal on it. What do you think?”
The “new gal” he is referring to is Laura Kingston, who used to be an assistant to Gary Henderson, an ME in Madison who came to Sorenson back in May to cover while Izzy was in Iowa with Dom. As it turned out, the first case Laura and Henderson had to investigate was mine. I killed a man, but in my defense, he tried to kill me first.
One good thing we got out of this temporary leadership was some extra staffing. Henderson reported that we were woefully understaffed, and as a result we had some additional positions approved. Laura took on a lab assistant/evidence processing job that is shared between our office and the police department. I think she took the position mainly because she became romantically involved with our resident lab tech and conspiracy theorist, Arnie Toffer, but also because she was tired of being Henderson’s lackey. Laura’s areas of expertise are varied thanks to her indecisiveness when it came to career choices. Not only is she well versed in several areas of forensic science, she has a business degree. She’s also a whiz at tracking down information.
“I’m sure Laura would be happy to help,” I tell Hurley, taking out my cell phone to call her.
Laura answers with, “Hey, Mattie, I was just about to call you. You must have ESP.”
“Don’t tell Arnie that. He’ll turn it into some kind of mind control thing. Why were you going to call me?”
“To let you know that we found a partial print on the arrow Izzy took out of Sanderson’s neck. That’s the good news. The bad news is it looks like it belongs to Sanderson himself.”
“What about the print that was in the blood on Sanderson’s neck?”
“We’re still working on that one, but there’s something else we found. There was that small hair you found stuck to the fletching on the arrow.”
“Fletching?”
“Fletching is the vanes or feathers, or at least what would be feathers on an old-fashioned arrow, though these days they’re typically made out of plastic. The arrow that killed Sanderson has three vanes, which is quite common, though there are some that
have four.”
“Laura, I—”
“With three vanes there is usually one that’s a different color from the other two and that one is called the cock. It’s located on the shaft at a right angle from the nock, or notch at the end of the arrow where the bow string goes when you’re ready to shoot.”
“Laura, you—”
“And the other two vanes are called the hens. They should be situated evenly around the shaft of the arrow, about an inch from the nock. The fact that the hair was beneath some dried blood means that it might have come from whoever fired the arrow because when you—”
“Laura, stop!” I yell into my phone. Hurley jumps and then gives me an annoyed look.
Laura is a talker, and the yell is a tactic we’ve all grown used to using since she joined our staff. She is self-aware with regard to her verbosity and makes a valiant effort to contain it, but occasionally things get out of control and she needs reminding. Fortunately, she reacts to these abrupt stops with grace and good humor.
“Sorry,” she says, and in my mind’s eye I can see the sheepish grin I know she’s wearing. “Verbal diarrhea.”
“You can educate me on arrows later. For now, tell me about the hair.”
“It’s a cat hair, a black one, but Arnie said there’s no root bulb on it so we can’t get DNA.”
“Okay, good to know. Hurley and I have something we want you to work on if you can.”
I tell her what we want her to do and give her the list of names Hurley has written in his notebook.
“I’ll get right on it,” she says, sounding eager. “Should I call you or do you want to call me to find out what I dig up?”
“We’re on our way to talk to Reece Morton, so send me any info you can find on him asap. Texting me is fine,” I add, hoping to avoid another bout of her verbal diarrhea. “When you’re done with Reece Morton, work your way down the rest of the list, starting with Harry Olsen and then the girlfriends. Also, look into any lawsuits you can find that involved Lars and see if there’s anything there that might provide motive. We’ll touch base with you when we’re ready to talk to any of these folks to see what you’ve dug up.”
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