“What do you mean Martin fondled Jenna’s boobs please pass the rice? Jaworski saw no such thing. He’s projecting his own fantasies into that scene.”
“Now wouldn’t it be a stretch for Jaworski to make up such an accusation and actually put it down in a report? He believes Martin is in the mix somewhere. Perhaps he’s a bit closer to Jenna than you know.”
“Priscilla was definitely trying to hook Martin. I’ve felt it from day one, but he isn’t in love with either Jenna or Priscilla. To my way of thinking, he’s not part of any triangle. And now his eye is on Judy Naegler.”
“Really? Now they would make a great pair.”
“So, with Priscilla’s arrest, Martin and Jenna are in the clear. He remains somewhat dejected. He lost his boyhood friend, and now he’s through with Priscilla. Maybe we should call and have him over.”
“Have him over for what? Your scrambled eggs? How did mellow Martin get connected with all these friends with dark edges? I’m glad we got together. I don’t want to be out in that dating scene again.”
“The scene would welcome you, believe me. They’d line up waiting for you out there. Just go up there and snap your fingers at any of those gorgeous girls at Knockers.”
“I’m not interested in shopping up there for Nestle when I have Godiva here at home.”
She leaned over and gave him a tender kiss. “You have a bottle of cooking sherry under the sink. Get it for us. I’ll clear off the table. What are we going to do tonight?”
“We could watch a DVD. What do you want? You want a romantic comedy or action?”
“I want romantic action.”
He laughed. “I dare you to say that with a lewd wink.”
She tilted her head and screwed up her face with one eye closed.
“Close enough,” he said. “I’ll go take a shower. Why don’t you get in with me?”
“Now why would I want to do that?”
“Use your imagination.”
“Two lovers in the shower? Come on, really? How hokey is that? Sure, it might be fun and a little exciting, but really, it’s silly and juvenile. Works for me.”
Chapter Thirty
Martin was in his office with the morning newspaper spread before him on the desk. He was staring thoughtfully at the far wall when Sandy came over from her office sipping her coffee. He said, “I called the hospital, Ted is out of ICU and recovering nicely.” He held up the newspaper and shook it. “They’re making the arrest of Prissy an extremely big deal. Of course, right now they’ve no idea who she is, nothing in here about her background. They won’t stop until they expose every day of her life. I can’t bear to read about her. What a sickening mess.”
“I’m going over this morning to see her. Tell me about Prissy behind bars.”
“Please don’t make light of it. It’s horrible.” He slapped the newspaper closed and shoved it away. “She was extremely angry and frustrated, as you would expect. I don’t think the seriousness of it all has sunken in yet. She talked about a high-powered attorney coming to her rescue. There’s a fantasy for you. And she’s talking in circles. She told me she didn’t have an affair with Brad. But told Jaworski she did because it would explain the physical evidence that places her in his car.”
“She’s smart to say that.” She wondered if he was slowly writing off Priscilla. “They claim it’s evidence she was in the car to kill him. She says it’s merely evidence of an affair. Maybe she said it because it’s true.”
“She flat out denied the affair to me.”
“So, better to lie to you than to the police.”
“She said Brad groped her.”
“Groped her, where?”
“Where do you think? Between her legs.”
“I mean where was she? By the pool, in the garage....”
“Oh, of course. In the garage.”
“Why didn’t she protest immediately that night? You took her home. Why didn’t she tell you then that she was in his car fighting him off? I don’t believe her.”
“I think I do. She said he tried to rape her. I discounted it. If I’d gone up to her apartment that night after the party, maybe she’d have told me the entire story. Some of this is my fault.”
“None of this is your fault. I’m curious, do you think she killed Brad?”
“All the evidence is circumstantial, Sandy. I simply don’t think she could kill anyone.”
“Moran must have a stack of other evidence piled up to justify her arrest. I don’t see it. What do they have? Her fingerprints found in his car. Shoe print found in the garage. Her lipstick DNA. The pink pebbles. Pretty flimsy stuff. Of course, the money transfer is bothersome.”
“What money transfer?”
She explained the wire transfer out of Brad’s account and the subsequent money transfer into Priscilla’s. “She admitted the money came from Brad.”
“I didn’t know she admitted it. Jenna told me three hundred thousand was gone from his account. She suspected Priscilla was involved. How long have you known?”
“Chip found out and told me last night.
“Priscilla told me none of the car purchase money came from Brad. And she had an explanation for everything else. Her prints are in the car because he attacked her in the car. She turned off the ignition to kill the radio and that explains her print on the fob.”
“That explains everything except the pink marble pebble from their driveway found in her right rear tire. They believe it’s important and extremely damaging evidence. A major part of the prosecution.”
“No. Even that might be nothing. Jenna can explain it, but she refuses to tell the truth to the police. She told me Brad drove that Prius to their house before delivering it to Priscilla. That means Brad might have gotten the pebble in the tire when he parked her car in their driveway before the party. I told it all to Jaworski. He became really upset because he needed that tire pebble to put Priscilla at the scene after the party. He called in Shapiro. They went crazy. A critical part of their evidence was shaky.”
“If in the middle of the trial Jenna admitted Brad had that car at their house, it would blow away their case.”
“They rushed out to verify what I told them. Jenna told them she’d never said such a thing to me and denied ever seeing the car at her house.”
“Because she wants Priscilla to hang,” Sandy said. “So, the tire evidence is only valid as long as Jenna keeps lying about it. I agree with you, the entire case against her is circumstantial. A good defense attorney will twist each piece of evidence into a fantasy. And if her attorney can place Brad with the Prius in the driveway, she will walk.”
“Jenna won’t change her story. She’s furious just thinking about Prissy screwing Brad. The thought doesn’t thrill me either. I’m disappointed in both of them.”
“But you’re not sure. You’re dying to believe the best.” She knew he liked her for the dancing and no doubt in bed. Perhaps he had begun to love her. “If Jenna thought there was an affair, wouldn’t it be a motive for Jenna to kill Brad?”
“I suppose she’s capable of it. Nevertheless, I think she might tolerate such behavior from old Brad. If she killed anyone it’d be Priscilla. At any rate, the police have dropped Jenna as a suspect.”
“Does Priscilla buying an expensive new car bother you?”
“She lying about something to do with the car. Yet the money didn’t necessarily come from Brad.”
“I tend to agree with you there. In fact, I have a theory on where the money came from.”
“What’s your theory?”
“I want to talk with Priscilla in jail first. I need to assure myself of a couple more facts. Afterward, I’ll have some interesting info for you.”
“And none of it is good, I assume. Just give it to me straight, Sandy. Is it about her and Brad? She denies having anything to do with him, but I don’t believe her. Is it worse? Please skip the delicate way you’re trying to say everything. Are you trying to tell me she’s a hooker?”
>
“Oh, God no. I don’t believe that for a second. But she’s been less than honest with you about her physical appearance and her job.”
“To put it crudely, Sandy, I’m familiar with every inch of her physical appearance.”
“Okay, so you know she has a beauty-contestant body, but did you know she placed third in the Miss Florida USA pageant? Nothing wrong with that except why does she hide it behind granny-style clothes when you’re around? She’s not a modest high-collar server at the Marriott. She’s a hot-bod shorts wearer with her braless boobs on animated display under a T-shirt at Knockers bar in Palm Point. Did I stick too many euphemisms in there for you?”
He stood from his desk, walked to the window and looked out through the blinds. “Wow, the deception certainly gets to me.” He turned back to her. “I suspected she had some issues as her personality didn’t seem entirely consistent. Even so, I took it as some quirk that would eventually work itself out. It was right there in front of me, wasn’t it?”
“Obviously, she had marriage in mind. I’m sorry for you. Deception can be cruel.”
“I deceived myself. I believed what I wanted to believe.”
“It was her, damn it. She deceived you.”
“It’s hard for me to picture her as a server in such a bar.” He frowned thinking about it. “Did she believe I wouldn’t be attracted to her genuine self?”
“I saw her genuine self percolating through a parking lot. She was hotter than the asphalt. You wouldn’t have danced with her in the dark if she looked like that. Your relationship with her went as far as it could possibly go. You had it great in the sack. Be happy with that and move on.”
“She has some problems. I feel sorry for her.”
“You’re just too too kind.” She rolled her eyes. “She didn’t have a chance with you. It wouldn’t have gone any farther.”
He knew she was trying to extinguish any lingering embers of love. Closing off the affair with Prissy was upsetting. She’d fooled him into believing she shared his feelings of emotional intimacy. With the intimacy taken away, it was just sex. Perhaps he’d been more emotionally involved than he thought.
Getting over Priscilla and moving on to someone new brought Judy Naegler to mind. At this point, he could easily make a fool of himself over her. Damn, why did Jenna have to interrupt them that day at the police station? Later, he had found Judy’s card and phoned. She sounded surprised he’d called. He told her he needed to apologize and explain and asked her to lunch sometime. She’d replied, “Martin, I don’t play games. Get yourself straightened out and after you do, be sure to call someone else. See ya.”
So much for new horizons, he thought.
Chapter Thirty-one
Sandy was there waiting when visiting hours in the Park Beach city jail began. She sat at one of the long metal tables and watched the officer escort Priscilla into the visiting room. If Sandy was ever pleased to see someone stuck in an orange jailhouse jumpsuit wearing handcuffs, that someone was Priscilla. She noticed Sandy, frowned and shuffled over, her flip-flops loose and noisy. Her hair had wilted after two days in the humid jail cell and sagged down sticking to the sides of her face. “Martin here yesterday and you today. The difference is I didn’t mind talking with him. You looking for trouble, kiddo?”
Sandy met her gaze. “I am trouble, kiddo. Now sit down and rest your sex appeal.”
The officer put a hand on Priscilla’s shoulder and ordered her to sit. She sat away from the table keeping her distance. “I don’t need your help so butt out.”
“Yeah, I can see you don’t need help. What sort of look are you going for with the orange jumpsuit? It’s so not you.”
“Fuck you.”
Sandy got down to business with a good half lie, “Martin doesn’t believe you murdered Brad. He suspects Jenna.”
“People believe what they want to believe, kiddo.” She sat back and started to fold her arms but couldn’t with the handcuffs. She put her hands in her lap.
“What if I told you I also don’t think you did it? I believe it was suicide.”
Priscilla scooted her chair closer. “Keep talking.”
“The question is whether I want to come out with it. I need some info from you before I decide.”
“Go to hell.”
“Just things I’m curious about.” Sandy needed to get her talking. “For example, did you in fact have sex with Brad at the same time you were hot with Martin?”
“I see where this is headed. You want to talk about men. Uptight girls like you always want to know what it’s like to be a girl like me. Isn’t prurient interest the phrase? I’m in here for murder and you’re sitting over there dreaming about sex. You sound like a jealous wife, ‘who did you do it with, what did you do, was she better than me?’”
“Any young woman with her juices flowing would envy you.” Keep her talking. She’s beginning to open up. “There may have been other partners I don’t know about. How did you manage to squeeze in Martin?”
She breathed out heavily. “I’m never going to land the guy am I?”
“Never. Even if you escape the death penalty he won’t have you now.”
“You going to tell him all this?”
“I don’t know. You’re a hot man-pleaser. You’re attractive. Your shape looks good even in that stupid jumpsuit. I imagine you did give him some jollies. However, I’m sure he likes to think he had something going for him besides a body. Like a friend maybe? What do you care if I tell him? If you had feelings for him, you’d have treated him like a real person with real feelings.”
“I treated him to lots of real feelings—the gasping for air kind of feelings. Believe me. He got the goodies.”
“He thought you were a special friend.”
“He’ll never forget me, I’ll tell you that. From now on, all his sex will be compared to me.”
“Just a regular stairway to heaven aren’t you?”
“Sorry about that, loser.”
“I’ll probably kill myself.”
“Okay, you might as well know. I first met Brad at the Beachland. By the end of our first dance, I knew we were going to get it on. From then on sure, we’d go out to his car between dances.”
“At those times, was Brad aware you’d be hooking up with his friend later?”
“You’ve got it wrong. After Martin got interested in me, I dropped Brad—he’d never marry me. You want a surprise?”
“You speak six languages and can fly a jet airliner?”
“No, Martin is a much better lover than Brad. Would you have bet on that? I wouldn’t have, but he is by far. Sex was always an emergency for Brad. For Martin, it was more of a process. I’ll bet he could never get it on in a car. I’m telling you, woman-to-woman, do whatever it takes, but get under that guy at least once in your lifetime. You probably already know what I’m talking about.”
“Funny how life has passed me by.”
“But Brad was the wild party boy. Not often I have to put a lid on the kinky stuff.”
“They found wall-to-wall DNA in his back seat.”
“I didn’t even try to be careful. Why should I? What we were doing was legal—at least in most states. Never dreamed the guy was going to kill himself in that car. My mind was on his outrageous bonking, not on trying to get away with murder. Boy was I surprised when they walked in and busted me.”
“Why did Brad give you away to Martin?”
“You make it sound like I’m an old Goodwill coat.” She moved her shoulders around trying to get comfortable with the cuffs pinning her wrists together. “The first time I saw him he was at another table at Beachland. Brad gave me the word on him. How he was conservative and didn’t like flashy women and all that. Brad kept taking an eye shot at my tits while he said it, so I figured maybe I was a bit over the top. I went in the restroom, took off most of my lipstick, pulled my hair back and buttoned up my blouse. My skirt was short and sexy with a slit, not much I could do about that other than inch
it down on my hips some. Dynamite skirt, loved it, but never wore it again in front of Martin.”
“Your intuition was right on. He doesn’t go for the flashy type. From then on you had to play down that body of yours. You became shy and retiring. Watched your mouth, and put on your best manners.”
“Plain and simple, that’s me.” She batted her eyes playfully. “Am I a great actress or what? Bashful, lights out, and corny music during sex—the whole deal. I did loosen up a bit after he got interested in me. I got away from most of the granny crap. Couldn’t stand all those dreary clothes for too long.”
“So Brad passed you around. Why did he do that to the man who’s supposed to be his best friend?”
“He didn’t think it would ever get serious. Friends don’t let friends drive drunk, but friends do help friends get laid.”
“And you went after Martin because he’s rich?”
“You’ve got it. I learned that lesson a long time ago. I married a plumber’s helper the day after high school graduation. After our honeymoon, which was overnight in his uncle’s trailer, he decided playing with a bowling ball was more fun than playing with me. Thanks to the pill, I got free of that lousy deal with no problems. Started at community college—didn’t take to that scene. A girlfriend and I entered a beauty contest. That’s how I got hooked up with the drama instructor. He said I could make it on TV. He knew an agent in New York. I figured it was just a line to get in my cotton pinkies. Turns out, he actually did know this agent. I expected the casting couch, but the agent was straight with me—I guess he was too busy. Anyway, I got one stupid commercial out of it. And you could only see my back. Tried out for a million more. Next he got me the part in Days of Tribulation, but I couldn’t cut it.”
She placed her cuffed hands flat on the table and leaned forward. “To tell the truth, acting is really tough. They don’t let you get by with anything. They always want it so damn perfect. Hard to remember everything and do it all right. And New York is all about money. Everyone has a lot of it, they pretend to have a lot of it, or they marry a lot of it. My roommate up there said I’d better marry it since I had no talent. She clued me in, said you don’t marry for money, you divorce for money.”
Such Wicked Friends Page 19