Meg Emerson carried a small plastic bag. “I took up a little collection at the office and bought you a couple of things.” She held out a small bag for the officer to inspect, two paperback books and some chocolate covered pretzels
“How great, thanks.” Ray held up the books. “The only thing I’ve had to read in my cell is the label on this jumpsuit. Hope you didn’t bring Dostoyevsky.”
“No crimes, just Woody Allen and Dave Barry.” Meg noticed the handcuffs and involuntarily shuddered. “Had many visitors?”
“My attorney and my sister.”
“That was your sister I passed in here the other day? Pretty. You guys are from Philadelphia, huh. More family up there?”
”Not anymore, folks died in a crash on the expressway, but we were grown at the time.”
“Sorry about that. Leave anyone behind up there? How’s the single situation in Philadelphia?”
“Don’t actually know. I was married and after we settled the divorce, I just sat around feeling sorry for myself. I wanted out of there. Like many people, I always had Florida in the back of my mind. New beginnings, et cetera.”
“Perhaps you’ll meet someone down here.”
“Not likely in here,” he joked. She didn’t laugh. He pointed to the books. “Very thoughtful but admit it, there was no collection at the office was there?”
“Technically there was, but I was the only contributor.”
“I’m fired aren’t I?”
Meg grimaced. “Police came to the office. They boxed up files and everything from your desk: company files, personal, everything. The company went ballistic. There was uproar in the office for the rest of the day. You’re out.”
Ray noticed Sandy coming in. She stood at the door laughing with Sergeant Lewis about something. She came over holding up the morning paper. “Well, Raymond, you have your fifteen minutes of fame. Hi, you’re Meg Emerson.” She pronounced the name distinctly for his benefit and introduced herself.
Meg said, “Welcome to Florida, I wish the circumstances were different. I’d show you two around. Yes, the paper is doing its best to keep things stirred up, nothing else is happening in this town.”
“I’ll change that. I’m going to find a couple more suspects. Raymond, I met with your attorney, Jerry Kagan. Probably okay, he’s on the list of qualified counsel for capital crimes. An oldie but goodie. I asked him to hire me as his investigator for a dollar a day. That puts me on the defense team, which may or may not mean anything.”
“We just talked. He told me they could transfer me out to the county jail at any time. He’ll speak to the judge and see if he can get me a few more days here.”
Meg said, “I hear it’s miserable out there and dangerous. This is jail, out there is prison.”
“I didn’t realize I had it so good.”
Sandy made a sympathetic frown. “You’ll be on your own out there, Raymond. I’ll be leaving.”
Meg said, “So, Sandy, you just drove down. You’re on vacation?”
“More or less.”
“Sandy, you shouldn’t have done this,” Ray said. “What’ll happen?”
“I’m not willing to lose my job over you, Raymond. Sorry if that sounds blunt. I’ll do what I can as quickly as I can. I’m good at this and can accomplish quite a bit while I’m here. But, criminal investigations and trials can take years just to get started. You have me for a few more days and that’s it. Then I’m gone and my act goes back to Philly.”
“Whatever time you can give me I’ll appreciate.” He knew she owed him nothing, yet here she was.
“I took a lot of crap to move ahead in my job. It’s perfect for a law student. I’m not going to screw it up.”
“I did screw mine up, it was easy.”
Meg said, “No, you didn’t screw up your job. You’re good at what you do and the company liked you.”
“Sandy, I’m going to make this up to you somehow.” He thought back to her as a teenager trapped in juvenile rehab, and he hadn’t lifted a finger to rescue her.
“Yeah, right, if I ever need a kidney I know who not to call.”
She was entitled to the sarcasm. He deserved it. Meg appeared confused at the remark.
“Raymond, I do need to move into your apartment while I’m here. I can’t afford the InnTowner any longer. You have Internet?"
“Sure, and Kagan should be able get my apartment keys back from the police now. If the police left it all messed up then hire someone to clean it up. Don’t you do it.”
“Not likely, I get confused operating cleaning apparatus like brooms. Now let me tell you, I asked questions at the InnTowner. Desk clerk on duty that Saturday morning doesn’t remember Loraine checking in or out. Guests don’t need to go back to the front desk to check out so there’s no record of when she left the room. Two maids remember you being there, ‘Oh, that’s man in paper who killed that man. Was with pretty woman in bathing suit muy poquito.’ They said the police had been around, but they don’t talk to police.”
“Did you meet Tammy?”
“Yes. Kagan gave me Tammy and Loraine’s addresses. I talked at length with Tammy in her office. She doesn’t care much for you but otherwise seems okay. If that girl is a pushover, as Loraine told you, then I’m Queen Elizabeth.”
Meg spoke up, “There are rumors of an affair with Towson, but I’ve never heard any talk about Tammy Jerold being easy. In fact on the contrary, she’s a bit reserved.”
“Loraine, on the other hand, tried to shove me off her front porch when I told her who I was,” Sandy continued. “I was lucky she didn’t eat me alive. Something’s wrong there, Raymond. I can’t believe you got cozy with that nut case.” She quickly put her hand to her mouth and glanced at Meg. “Whoops, sorry, she a friend of yours?”
“I know her from business, that’s all. She can be a pain. Says all brokers are trying to rip her off. Sorry I invited her. Is there any way I can help with all this?”
“That would be great, if you want to,” Sandy said. “So, you deal in securities and financial matters. I guess you have access to credit and financial reports on people?”
“All the time.”
“Then I’m going to get real pushy. Can you pull reports on Loraine, Tammy, Norma Martin, Sonny Barner, Towson, and the Postmaster General? I’m joking about that last one, but you get the idea—everyone connected with the case. Is that too much?”
“Oh, Sandy, I’d like to help, but I don’t dare to give you actual reports on anyone. My securities license mandates strict privacy. What are you after?”
“Financial problems, lawsuits, convictions, and such. I understand your delicate situation. I suppose social security numbers are out. What about birth dates? With a birth date I can go online.”
“Can’t do, but how’s this: I’ll quietly review a few things myself and let you know if anything suspicious pops up. I already have files on everyone you named except Norma and Barner. I’ll get back to you. Give me your cell. Must go now. You two have serious things to cover.” Meg said her goodbyes.
Sandy watched her leave. “Impressive woman. Okay, Raymond, where were we? Ah, yes, back to the seductive woman who drives her lovers to disaster. Loraine’s a femme fatale, and you’re a convenient doofus.”
“That’s not fair, Sandy, I didn’t want to discuss it while Meg was here, but the woman you’re describing isn’t the one I slept with after that party.”
“Bullshit, men will screw anything that moves and an astonishing variety of things that don’t.”
“Well, she wasn’t just anything. She was something, and a damn attractive something. Excuse me for being human.”
“And you were helplessly ensnared in her bonds of irresistible desire. Next, you’ll tell me she was also a virgin. Get off it. She lifted her skirt, and you charged off to tilt at windmills. Your bizarre sex drive got you in jail and got me down here ruining my life to help you.”
“If I was like that, we would have had sex again at that motel. T
here was no second time in spite of her naked body laid out before me like some sexual smorgasbord. Don’t you understand? The melodramatic story that got me charged up came from the sweet Loraine.”
“Have you ever in your life said no to a woman asking for anything?”
“Okay, I’ll admit she conned me, but not back into bed, although she sure tried. I didn’t know any of the people she named. It all sounded plausible at the time. But yes, I couldn’t wait to race off and make an ass out of myself.”
“Somehow, Raymond, you never quite know what’s going on with women. Women aren’t just tall Girl Scouts. You think you owe every woman something, don’t you. With your quiet childlike charm if you ever did figure them out you’d be gold. Women like quiet men like you, they think you’re listening.”
“I don’t care if I understand them. I just want to meet a woman who smiles at me because she means it.”
“Well, don’t get married again before I size up the prospect.”
“Do I detect a slight hint of caring, like you actually give a damn?”
“You’re right. I don’t. That was a joke.”
“Not difficult to screw up choosing a partner. How are you doing, for example?” He was upset and said it without thinking. He immediately wished he could take the words back. Her face flushed and he knew he had hit the target. “I’m sorry, Sandy, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right. I’m guilty of screwing up relationships. The difference is I work at them, at least the worthy ones. Most went bad but I was in there trying. But you, my apathetic sibling, just take up space waiting for someone to come to you. Someone who had better be prepared to call all the relationship shots because your mind has more important concerns.”
“Wow. This isn’t really about me, is it? It’s about us. You’re talking about you and me—and my failure to redeem myself with you.”
“I’ll leave sibling redemption to the psychologists.”
“I’m truly sorry, Sandy. I’ll try to change. I’ll try to work on our connection.”
“I don’t care what you do. My concern is getting back to my life in Philly. That means I first must clean up your mess. Where did we leave off?”
“I’m a doofus.”
“Oh yes, Loraine using you. I guess the Barner rape was the angle she thought would set you off. She wanted you to go to Towson’s, to see Norma, and to barge in on Tammy. She wanted you seen all over town.”
“She outsmarted me. If I’d called the police at three o’clock, as I originally intended, I’d have been talking to them at the time of murder and would never have been a suspect. I’d be home reading a book right now, just taking up space, and you’d be in Philly. I don’t think Tammy understands all that. Do you think she’d be willing to come here and talk with me?”
“No, I don’t. Tammy thinks you’re straight out lying. She doesn’t think Loraine has anything to do with this. She thinks you fought with Towson and shot him. That’s what she told Goddard. She doesn't think much of you. She said it's tragic an accomplished man with such a promising future should have his life cut short because some jerk drifts into town and wipes out years of accomplishments with two little bullets.”
“When we met, I felt there was something between us. I’d like to see her again.”
“That’s understandable, she has that big boob thing going for her.”
“Sandy, please get off the oversexed notion. I’m not like that. You don’t know me any better than I know you.”
“You think Tammy would come here to jail to see you? Forget about it. She’s very upset. You know I don’t have all the time in the world for this project of yours. I’ve a long list and seeing Tammy twice isn’t on it. Do yourself a favor and forget about her. She doesn’t like us, and you two simply aren’t on the same side.”
She looked at him sitting there—pathetic in that stupid jumpsuit, with two precious paperbacks and a bag of chocolate covered pretzels tightly gripped in his handcuffed hands. He seemed so fragile. So far, he was dealing with this horrible situation, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he soon flipped over into depression. She should let up on him. Stop blaming him for trying to help someone.
“Okay, I’ll go see her, just to give her your message. Maybe I’ll find an excuse to cross paths with Detective Chip Goddard again.”
Chapter 15
Being state attorney put a sizeable hammer in Lawrence Moran’s hand. His office had no lack of possible targets to hit. Goddard had observed that the merciless Moran used the law to come down hard against minor offenders and unwary letter-of-the-law violators. He noticed Moran seemed to enjoy smashing little bugs with his big hammer. He relished those opportunities where he could penalize the likely innocent on a technicality. Such power made the fight unfair.
Although Goddard had to live with it, he usually didn’t have to deal closely with him. Usually A shoots B, Goddard arrests A, a trial is scheduled, and Goddard goes home. The Towson case would be different. It would be complicated and he didn’t like having Moran so involved in the investigative part of it.
Moran wanted a meeting, so Goddard drove back to the station and headed for the chief’s office. As he opened the door, he could hear Moran’s high-pitched voice criticizing the chief for the lack of progress. Moran accented his complaint with his fist in the air. “Get in here Goddard, my desk is piled high with pink call-back slips from state and national media. I need something to tell them. I could be forced into a news conference at any time.”
“You’d love those TV lights and cameras,” Goddard said.
“The chief just told me that nothing resulted from the search of Barner’s house. Let’s go back to Reid. Please assure me we still have him nailed. You know, Tallahassee keeps asking me if I need any backup for the case, and I tell them I have it under control. Do I have it under control, Goddard?”
“It’s circumstantial but pretty good. I just talked with Loraine Dellin. She admits to having sex with Reid. He told her she wouldn’t really love him as long as Towson was alive. There’s your love triangle, your threat and your motive. The affair goes on for at least a week. On the morning of the murder, they meet again at a motel. He admits there was a gun there. There’s your means. We know they argued. Later that day Towson is found murdered.”
“And where was Loraine during all this?”
“She admits to being at the motel Saturday morning. The murder had to be between 2:15, the time noted on Barner’s service receipt and six. She was seen at the museum at three and at five. The museum’s shift change is at four; she arrived on one guard’s shift and left on another. So she could have left in between. She could have left the museum after three, shot Towson, and came back before five.”
“Is there any way you can make it cornier?” Moran said. “Your triangle theory is all wrong because it’s unexciting. I can’t stand before the national media and tell such a boring little tale of romance gone wrong. It won’t get air time.”
The chief said, “But we’ve got the killer, we just need to nail down some more evidence.”
“We have enough right now to confuse the idiot jurors I get in this town. Even so, I’m not happy because I want to land the big fish behind this plot. Don’t you get it? The victim was a state senator going to be the next Governor of Florida. Someday possibly president. It’s a political assassination. Think big—murder, money, conspiracies, and influence. There’s much more to this affair. And it’s here in Park Beach, right here in my district! And what do you do? You hand me a tidy little love triangle? You’re missing the big picture.”
Goddard knew the state attorney dreamed about this case developing into some notorious national intrigue that would propel him into the U.S. Senate.
“This isn’t an impulsive killing or a crime of passion,” Moran continued. “Towson was an important person. When they bump off big people, there’s always money and power in the mix. Anyone can get himself killed over a boneheaded love triangle and some mix
ed up sex. Forget cherchez la femme. With the big cats, look for the money and power. Find the big connection. There’s something there! Has to be. What do we know about the third woman in the statement, Norma Martin? I hear she’s Latina. I suspected there was a foreign angle to this.”
The chief answered, “In this case, the total of your foreign angle might only be a quiet Cuban-American restaurant nine miles away. Have you eaten out at the Jardin? Rice, beans, all that good stuff. Norma Martin fronts for the owners and runs it. National crime has nothing on her.”
“Not good enough,” Moran snapped. “We know Cuban-American money interests were opposing the election of Towson. Where there’s smoke there’s fire. What does she actually have to say, Goddard? Let me see her statement.”
Goddard realized he had his priorities wrong. Moran had him. He should have talked to her much sooner. “She’s on my list. I haven’t met with her yet.”
“You haven’t met with her yet! Damn it to hell, you’ve been fiddling around with old-lady neighbors and the local exterminator. Meanwhile, the hit man from Philadelphia drops the name of Norma Martin, who fronts for unnamed Cuban interests. How many time would she have to bite you on the ass, before you’d turn around and investigate?”
“She’s next on my list to interview.”
“Slick work, Goddard. Only five days after the murder and already you’re thinking about talking with the principals in the case.”
Goddard knew he had screwed up by not developing secondary suspects. Norma Martin might even have skipped town by now or destroyed evidence. “I was headed out there when you called me back in.” That stretched the truth.
“Reid isn’t some jealous lover. He was paid to do this,” Moran said. “Get out of here and find the big boys who hired him.”
Goddard left and headed for the Jardin Café beyond the edge of town. He had taken far too long to contact Norma Martin and wasn’t happy with himself about that. He didn’t know her connection to all this. He did know she fronted for some corporation. And now, she’s had plenty of time to run.
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