Deserving of Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 1)

by James Paddock

  She ran the towel across her face. “If I don’t they’re going to continue looking for me. This way I’ll probably be out fairly soon and then I can freely move about and try to help figure out who this guy is.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s the way it’s going to be. If you go, I go.” She looked at Lisa. “Did you get a meeting with your friend?”

  “Tonight at Risky Business, a sports bar on Tanque Verde. If you two go ahead with this, it’ll help justify my questions to her. It’ll look like I’m part of the case whether I am or not.”

  “We’re going ahead with it,” CJ said. “How do you want to handle it?”

  Chapter 31

  Lisa had refused to put handcuffs on them even though CJ insisted she do so. When they arrived at the station, however, he prevailed, saying it would look better for her. They compromised on just him, but not Stella. Now he sat in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table as though he might suddenly go crazy and kill everyone within reach, who, in this case, consisted of two FBI agents, Stratton and Crane, and Detective Bunko, a shit-eating grin on his face. If CJ was to go crazy, he decided that Bunko would be his first target. He grinned at him and winked.

  Agent Stratton looked between CJ and the detective. “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing,” CJ said. “Just glad to see Ralph on the team.” CJ had no idea why he said that; maybe to keep Bunko off guard. If there was a way to wipe away that grin, CJ would find it. “We were pretty good buddies back in the day.”

  The grin disappeared; the mouth opened, then shut.

  The agent looked down at his paperwork. “Clinton Joshua Washburn. We’ve got you on one count of murder, transporting said body across state lines and eluding state and federal officers.”

  “CJ.”

  The agent looked up. “What?”

  “You can call me CJ. I’d rather be accused of murder, which I didn’t do by the way, than be associated with a president who happened to have my name.”

  The agent folded his hands on the table in front of him, providing no more than a hint of a smirk at the comment. “A woman’s body was found in the trunk of your car, Mister Washburn, after you drove her from Arizona, through Nevada, all the way into Idaho. Did you kill her before you left Tucson, after you arrived in Idaho or somewhere along the way?”

  “I did not kill her. Sometime during the night before I left, the real killer took her life and placed her in the trunk of my car.”

  “You’re saying you drove all the way to Moscow, Idaho with a dead woman and didn’t know it?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “So you admit to transporting her body across state lines.”

  “Don’t try twisting the facts. I had no knowledge of the fact she was in my car. He jimmied the lock on the trunk so that it would open with neither the trunk release nor the fob. If your forensic team is doing their job then they should already know that.”

  “Who is this he that you’re referring to?”

  “The perp. The person who is actually doing the killing.”

  The agent nodded and looked down at his notes. “You checked into the Palouse Inn in Moscow, Idaho the evening of July 31st, this past Tuesday. Somehow you became aware that using your credit card sent a red flag to law enforcement, and so you managed to evade capture. If, as you say, you didn’t do this, why didn’t you turn yourself in right then?”

  “I’m not sure. I panicked, didn’t at first know what was going on with a slew of cops converging on my car. When I saw them pull a quilt-wrapped body out of my trunk, I knew I had been set up, that I was in trouble.”

  Agent Stratton tapped his pencil against the table for a bit and then turned to the other agent. “Make a note to get any video footage from that night. I want to go through it.” He returned to CJ. “If I’m correct, there is no vantage point from which you could have viewed what was removed from the trunk of your car, outside of the motel itself, and we know you weren’t there. You already knew in what she was wrapped because you’re the one who put her there.”

  “I was in the one place the officers didn’t look. I was in a tree between the motel and McDonald’s parking lots, at least twenty feet above the ground, looking right down at the scene. I was returning with my dinner when Moscow’s finest came roaring into the motel parking lot, so I climbed the tree and watched the horror show.”

  “What do you have against prostitutes?”

  CJ blinked for a few seconds at the sudden change in topic. “I don’t have anything against prostitutes.”

  “Then you like them.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then you don’t like them.”

  “I didn’t say that either. You’re trying to make me say something incriminating.”

  “I’m not trying to make you say anything, Mister Washburn. Where did you go after you left the tree?”

  “I found a pilot who would fly me back to Arizona.”

  “Who was that?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  The agent tapped with his pencil again for a half minute and then said, “With every law enforcement agency and dog catcher within a hundred miles on high alert for you, you managed to evade them all and locate someone with a plane fueled and ready who would be willing to fly you all the way to Southern Arizona. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Although he flew to New Mexico, CJ was fairly certain it wasn’t smart to divulge even that little detail. “Yes.”

  “Are you aware that there was another murder that next night just like all the others, and you are the prime suspect?”

  “Yes.”

  “This individual who you say flew you back to Arizona could be your alibi.”

  “I don’t want to get him involved. Since I didn’t commit that murder, or any of the murders for that matter, you’re not going to find any forensic evidence or witnesses that place me at any of those scenes. I therefore see no reason to give up that name.”

  “Actually, Mister Washburn, Clinton, we have forensics from three of the murders that point directly at you. Too early to tell on this last one from this morning but I’m guessing there’ll be something. That’ll be number four.”

  CJ’s mouth went dry. He sucked up some fluid and said, “That’s impossible.”

  “One,” Agent Stratton said, holding up one finger, “Rebecca Cling. She’s the victim who you claimed to have discovered early in the morning of July 28th. She was covered with your blood, hair and alcohol laced saliva.”

  “I had to climb in the dumpster to determine if there was a body and if she was still alive. I fell on her. What do you expect?”

  Stratton held up two fingers. “Two, Ashley Johnson. Discovered in the trunk of your car in Moscow, Idaho the evening of July 31st. Found your hair.”

  CJ started to hold up his hands but came to the end of the handcuff on one. “My trunk,” he said. “Probably loaded with my forensics. Means nothing.”

  “Three, Maria Rodston, found dead the morning of August 2nd, thirty-two hours after you arrived in Moscow. Your hair, confirmed with DNA match, was found on her.”

  “That’s impossible!” CJ jerked against the handcuffs again.

  Stratton held up a hand. “Easy, Mister Washburn. You might hurt yourself.” When CJ settled Stratton folded the thumb down, leaving four fingers. “Four, Sherri Cural. She was discovered this morning, August 3rd, here in Tucson, in another dumpster, wrapped in an old quilt. Hair samples that obviously didn’t belong to her were taken and are now, as we speak, being analyzed. We will know something within the hour. I have my suspicions.”

  CJ opened his mouth, and then closed it. He put his one free hand to the back of his neck in an unconscious attempt to massage away the growing pain. Stratton, he knew, was waiting for a response. He didn’t have one. He snatched the bottle of water provided for him, the one he’d initially refused to touch because it was Detective Bunko who brought it in, unscrewed the l
id with the assist of his handcuffed hand and took a mouth washing gulp.

  CJ knew three law firms that he could trust, firms for whom he’d regularly done work. Only one of them specialized in criminal defense. He pointed at Stratton’s notes. “Write this down; Gianna Onassis.” He spelled the name for him.

  “Who is Gianna Onassis?” Stratton said.

  “My attorney,” CJ said. “The Onassis Law Firm.” He then put his head on the table and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 32

  It was after 5:00 before Gianna showed up. The first thing she did was insist that the handcuffs be removed. Stratton argued.

  “He’s an ex-cop who turned himself in for God’s sake,” she said. “You’re treating him like a damned terrorist.”

  “It’s procedure, counselor.”

  “Fine. You’ve gotten your procedure all afternoon. Now I get mine. Even the most hardened criminal is not stupid enough to do something crazy in front of his attorney. Remove the cuffs.”

  They stared at each other as the seconds ticked by. CJ wasn’t certain Gianna would prevail, though he’d only seen her back down from court judges, but even then, not as a rule.

  When Stratton broke eye contact CJ held up the cuffed arm and raised his eyebrows. When his arm was free he stood and stretched.

  “Can we continue with our questioning now?” Stratton asked.

  “No,” Gianna said. “I want time to get the facts from my client. You know the drill, Agent Stratton. Listening devices and video equipment turned off.”

  “How much time do you need?”

  “As much as it takes.” She made the shooing away motion, not unlike a woman shooing her pesky kids outside to play. When the door was closed she sat down. “Sit. I’ve been on my feet all day and I don’t want to look up at you.”

  CJ sat.

  “How are you doing, CJ?”

  “Certainly could be better. I really appreciate you taking this on. It’s turning into a big mess.”

  “Not a problem. I hear that Stella is being held as well. Do you want me to step in for her?”

  “Please. I don’t know how we can afford you, though.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll figure that out later. How is she fitting into all this? What are they charging her with?”

  “I don’t think they’re charging her with anything at this point. Accessory or some such thing I imagine is what they’re thinking.”

  Gianna rose and knocked on the door. When it opened she said to someone CJ couldn’t see, “I’ll be talking to Stella Summers next. I hope to hell you don’t have cuffs on her, too. I’m also going to expect a good reason to hold her all night.”

  She returned to her seat, pulled out a mini recorder and said, “Okay. Let’s get started.”

  It took an hour and a half for CJ to recount his story, leaving out nothing. Even though he didn’t want to reveal Stella’s sister and her husband, he knew he had to give Gianna everything. He had seen attorneys get blindsided with surprise information so he probably went overboard. Better too much than not enough.

  “I really want Bill and Sara’s names left out of it, if at all possible.”

  “I understand, CJ, but they may be your best alibi. If we can prove that you were in New Mexico at the time the girl was killed in Idaho, it’ll throw doubt on all the rest. It’ll show that the hair, your hair, found on her body was planted, adding validity to your claim of being framed, and tainting all the rest of the evidence they have against you. By the way, I was advised on the way in here that the hair found on this morning’s victim was in fact yours.”

  CJ sat back and looked up at the ceiling, then put his hands on his head and closed his eyes. “Who the hell is this guy?” He looked back at Gianna. “What about Stella’s testimony of being with me last night?”

  “As your girlfriend, Stella doesn’t carry much weight. And please don’t get your hopes up with Bill and Sara either. If they’re as anti-authority as you say they are, a good prosecutor could turn it against you.”

  “Another good reason not to bring them up,” CJ said.

  “The hard question, then, is going to be, who flew you out of Idaho? If you refuse to answer, at best, a judge could find you in contempt of court. At worst the prosecutor could use it to turn a jury against you.”

  “I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

  “Either way is a gamble.”

  “Then we can’t go to court. We have to find evidence that forces them to drop the charges, that clears me of all suspicion.”

  “I’d send my best investigator out on it, but it seems that he is in jail.” She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows at him. “Do you have anyone else you’d recommend?”

  CJ considered the question for a few seconds and then said, “Dave McDermott.”

  “Never heard of him. Is he a licensed PI?”

  “No.” Then CJ remembered Lisa’s comment when he’d seen her at the crime scene where he was first arrested, where he’d been drunk. She mentioned her father was thinking of becoming a PI, that maybe it was too late to advise him against it. Did he file his paperwork already? “Actually I don’t know. I think he’s been considering heading into the private sector. He’s an ex-cop like me. Everything I just told you, I told him this morning, so he’s fully up to speed. It was at his house where I turned myself in to his daughter by-the-way. Is it a problem if he isn’t a licensed PI?”

  “Somewhat, though maybe I can work around it. Give me his number and I’ll give him a call.”

  “Any chance of getting me out on bail?”

  “Highly doubtful, but not impossible. We have to wait for all the charges to be filed and then for the preliminary hearing.”

  There came a knock and then the door opened. Agent Stratton poked his head in and motioned to Gianna. She rose and went to him. CJ watched Stratton’s lips and tried to pick up some of his words. All he got was Moscow.

  Gianna returned and sat down. “He wanted me to pass this information on to you, as a courtesy, he says.”

  “What else could there possibly be? They’re already trying to hang me on four murders. Has there been another?”

  She shook her head. “No. It seems that Maria Rodston, the Moscow, Idaho victim, resided in a basement apartment directly across the street from where your daughter lives.”

  CJ just stared at his attorney, hardly breathing, his mind reeling, searching for the implication that the information delivered. What are they thinking? He leaned back in his chair and put his arms out. “What are they going to do with that? Are they going to say that I went to visit my daughter but saw this other woman first and decided to kill her instead, evidence, thus guilt, by proximity?”

  And then the real truth of it occurred to him. His eyes got big and his mouth dropped open. Why hadn’t he already seen it? “Holy shit! I need Stratton back in here, now!”

  Chapter 33

  When Agent Stratton arrived at Gianna’s request, Agent Crane on his heel, CJ was pacing back and forth. Stratton didn’t appear too happy to have been summoned by his suspect. Before he could even open his mouth, CJ rushed at them.

  “You’ve got to put protection around Patricia,” was all CJ got out before the two agents had him in a double arm lock, pressed against the wall. “He’s going to kill her!” he all but screamed as they pushed him back to his chair and handcuffed him to the table. All Gianna could do was stumble aside, out of the way.

  “So, what are you so excited about Mister Washburn?” Stratton said. “Who’s going to kill who?”

  “Don’t say anything, CJ,” Gianna interrupted as CJ started to open his mouth again, jerking against the restraint. She pulled a chair around next him, sat down and glared at the two agents. They backed up to the door. She learned toward CJ. “From now on you don’t talk to them until you’ve talked to me first? Is that clear?”

  CJ nodded his head, rocking to and fro like an autistic child. Gianna placed a hand on his bicep.

  “I need
you to settle.” She waited a few seconds. “Now, CJ.”

  He looked at her and then at her hand. He nodded. “Sorry.”

  “Good. Now take a deep breath, relax and tell me what’s going on in your head.”

  CJ took the deep breath. It stopped the rocking but he still felt like there was an anvil sitting on his chest. He turned again to talk directly to Gianna, trying his best to keep his voice low. “That was no coincidence that the victim in Moscow lived across the street from my daughter.” He tried taking another deep breath; the anvil still didn’t go away. “That was a warning from the perp to me. He’s saying Trish could have been a victim, will be if I don’t confess.”

  Gianna nodded. “I understand. Did you see your daughter at all while you were there, or communicate with her?”

  “No. I was going to surprise her, never got past checking in to the motel. The only time I talked to her was the next day, as I told you, while flying out. Stella had set that up.”

  She sat back and motioned to the agents. “I think this is worth listening to. Go ahead, CJ.”

  Stratton sat down while Crane remained standing, as though blocking the direct line to the door. “I ask again, Mister Washburn, what has gotten you so excited?”

  “It’s obvious what’s going on here. Not only is this guy planting evidence but he’s trying to use my daughter as a threat. He wants me to know just how close to her he can get.”

  “You think your perp knows enough about you that he was able to locate your daughter, find someone who lived near her who sort of fit his MO and then catch her alone so he could grab her and kill her without being seen?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you want us to put police protection around your daughter; is that right?”

  “Yes! I’m glad you understand.”

  “What I understand here, Mister Washburn, is that the murder of Maria Rodston was planned out by you just in case of this very situation.”

  “What?”

  “You figured we’d take your story more seriously if we bought this little ‘threatening you with your daughter’ scenario.”