One Deadly Sister

by Rod Hoisington

  Worst of all, he realized, Sandy would be gone.

  He knew she needed to go back to Philadelphia. He didn’t blame her. But he knew when she left, the investigation would come to a halt. An aggressive defense wasn’t likely without her. They could do whatever they wanted with him.

  That Friday morning Sandy and Jerry Kagan were across from him in the visiting room. Kagan spoke first, “I talked to the judge about delaying your transfer out to county. I’ve several motions pending and he’s going to use them as an excuse to delay the transfer as a favor to me. Said he’ll give us five more days. They were supposed to transfer you long ago.”

  Sandy said, “I can see you’re on the edge of depression, and I hate to hit you with this right now, but five more days is all I can give you too.”

  Ray was expecting that. He nodded and gave her a tight smile, “That’s okay. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  Unexpectedly, in a loud voice she said, “Hey, I’ve got a life in Philly, you know!”

  Her defensive tone surprised him. “I understand, it’s fine.”

  “I can’t spend my entire life down here straightening out your mess!”

  “Of course not, it’s okay, Sandy.”

  She shoved her chair back and walked rapidly to the window. After a few minutes, Sergeant Lewis noticed and walked over beside her. He asked her something, she nodded she was okay and came back and sat.

  “Okay, let’s get on with it.” She pulled out her notebook. “I had a second meeting with Tammy Jerrold. She was quite interested in how our investigation was going. She suspects Loraine now but still doesn’t want to see you, Raymond. I got her talking about Towson. She mentioned he was paying Loraine alimony.”

  “Alimony? She’s getting alimony?” Ray said.

  “Yes, big bucks every month. That’s what she lives on. Towson complained about it according to Tammy. Why then would Loraine kill him? If he’s dead he can’t pay alimony.”

  “Damn! We thought we had her big motive, that blows it away,” Ray said. “She wouldn’t kill the goose that lays the golden egg.”

  “Not necessarily, life insurance might indeed be the motive.” Kagan explained. “The certainty of her alimony stopping upon his death provided her with a legal insurable interest. She could then have insured him even though not married. A large life insurance policy on Towson could have been part of the divorce deal. She still could be our suspect.”

  Sandy said, “I get it—lump-sum alimony payable upon death. Life insurance set up by the divorce agreement pays her a large lump sum to make up for the monthly alimony that would normally stop when the ex dies. If she kills him, and gets away with it, she’s instantly an extremely rich woman.”

  Kagan continued, “Is she so greedy she’d risk losing guaranteed monthly alimony payments for a possible lump sum, and take the chance of being caught, and ending up with zero and in prison?”

  “She might take the chance for enough millions!” Ray suggested.

  “For some people everything is never enough,” Sandy observed. “How do we find out?”

  “Her attorney doesn’t have to tell us without a court order,” Kagan said. “If she makes a claim for millions, however, some insurance investigator will be all over us.”

  Sandy said, “We know Loraine definitely directed you to Towson’s apartment on the day of the shooting using that text message. That sounds like a plan. Only the killer would know to put you at the scene the very day Towson would be shot.”

  Kagan said, “So, she did it, and she framed Ray for the murder.”

  “Let’s not lock that down just yet, Jerry,” she suggested. “Could there be any motive besides insurance?”

  “Divorces come with built-in motives, take your pick,” Kagan replied.

  “Okay, here’s some other stuff I found out.” Sandy referred to her notebook. “About a year ago, Towson had something special going with some woman who lives in Palm Beach. Supposed to be very hush-hush, but everyone I asked seemed to know about it, and everyone remembered her name, Elizabeth Montgomery. Same as some old TV actress everyone in the world has heard of except me.”

  Kagan said, “That actress was a real dish. Loved her work. I have her on some old videos.”

  “Last night I went online with my laptop and checked property records for every county in Florida. Do you know there are sixty-seven freakin’ counties in this state? I tried Palm Beach County first, of course, and got an immediate hit. I sat there until after midnight searching through the other sixty-six. Anyway, Towson does own a condo in Palm Beach County. I Googled Elizabeth Montgomery and after seven billion hits on the old actress, I found her name in Palm Beach County and sure enough that’s her address.”

  “Perhaps she’s a little honey he has set up down there,” Ray said. “This Elizabeth Montgomery might be a woman scorned or might have a jealous husband.”

  Kagan joined in, “At the very least, we’ve another suspect and more reasonable doubt.”

  "I need to dig more into Towson’s life as well,” Sandy said. “See where he pops up in official records. Search for other names. See the court record of the divorce proceeding. Are there children no one knows about? Like that.”

  “Jerry, could he actually have made it to the Governor’s Mansion? I heard he had big time opposition,” Ray asked.

  “Slam dunk, as good as elected. His opposition was ruthless and well funded, but he definitely would make it. Some Cuban-American big-money interests were pushing to legalize casino gambling in Florida. They’re out already optioning land for casinos and getting politicians lined up. Towson stood for old Florida and the status quo, anti-growth and all that, the ideal candidate. Campaign would be tough but it would be grass roots, John Q. Public against big-money.”

  “Be less fuss to shoot a state senator now than assassinate a governor later,” Ray said.

  “The link for us there might be Norma Martin,” Sandy said. “Here’s how her story goes so far. She breezed into town a couple of years ago and bought the Jardin Café. Owners weren’t even thinking about selling the place until she came along. The place wasn’t in good shape, and they were thrilled when she said how much, and handed them cash. The cover story was she cashed out on a large house up north in a divorce settlement. Everyone assumes she owns that restaurant, but I found out she doesn’t. A Delaware Partnership owns it but the partners might well live in Tampa.”

  Ray said, “Would the Tampa big-money go so far as to assassinate him?”

  “I suppose that could happen here, happens in Miami. Billions are at stake,” Kagan replied. “The pro-casino faction definitely wanted the senator out of the way.”

  Sandy’s phone buzzed. It was Meg Emerson. “Sandy, I brought up reports on all the principals you named. Here we go. This is all confidential and a violation of every Federal privacy law, so cover my tail please. I found zilch on Norma Martin. Are you certain she actually exists? I’d need her social to check further. Tammy’s fine, owns a couple of small rentals, she’s a saver, no visible problems. Sonny Barner somehow got into financial trouble while he was a toddler, maybe earlier, and hasn’t been out of money trouble since. Don’t buy a used car from him. Loraine Dellin is hurting financially, heavily mortgaged and margined, not yet critical, but she’s been selling off her securities to live. She’s literally eating up her principal. Got all that?”

  “You’re the best.” Sandy had another idea. “Two more names popped into my mind. Elizabeth Montgomery, West Palm Beach, and what about Towson’s campaign manager, Tony Hackett?”

  “That last one’s easy. Not public yet, but Hackett is about to declare bankruptcy. His creditors have already moved in. Everyone thought he was inside on all the money deals that Towson pulled off, but I guess not. Somehow, he’s ended up broke. Word is he may have moved back to Virginia already. I guess you’ve a reason for asking?”

  “The person who finds the body always goes on the suspect list. Thanks, Meg.” Sandy turned back. “Where were
we? Ah, I’ll look into the Tampa connection. Detective Goddard also wants me to check on it.”

  Kagan was surprised. “What did you just say? You’re doing work for Detective Goddard?”

  She enjoyed the moment. “Yes, I made a connection that could be good for us. I had coffee with Detective Chip Goddard. He wants me to tell him whatever I find out, and in return he doesn’t tell me zip. How’s your heart, Jerry? I could hear it pounding over here.”

  “Yes, that startled me. Never heard of such a thing, it just isn’t done. As your brother’s attorney, I must advise you of the considerable danger there. Whatever you tell him can be used in court. Moreover, you can be put on the stand and made to repeat it.”

  Ray jumped in, “And you say I’m crazy!”

  “You are crazy.”

  “But Sandy, that’s no kind of deal—all his way. He’s the one who arrested me. He’s on the job. He’s using you. Either that or he’s just trying to get you in the sack.”

  “Maybe he’s not the sacker, maybe he’s the sackee.” She went on, “And it’s not all his way. He agreed to listen to what I have to say. Of course, I’m going to feed him only exculpatory information.”

  Kagan looked at Ray who nodded that he understood the word. Kagan warned, “Even information favorable to the defense can be twisted around in court. You’re on dangerous ground, young lady.”

  “He underestimates me. People have always underestimated me. It’s a neat little swindle I’ve been running all my life. It’s to our advantage with Chip, at least so far. He doesn’t believe he’s disclosing any info. I just get him talking and then read between the lines.”

  “Hope you don’t fall off the high wire,” Kagan said.

  “If he has doubts about your guilt right now, wait until I get through with him. Plus, I can run around town without the police on my tail every minute. We exchanged phone numbers. If he calls take a message, okay?”

  “Not funny, you’re reckless,” Ray said.

  She rested her hand on Kagan’s shoulder. “Jerry, I wanted you to know. I didn’t want you blindsided later by the deal. Chip—notice I call him Chip now—is okay. Did you know some bastard shot his dad at a Stop-and-Rob? He was police chief, wasn’t even on duty, just going out for ice cream.”

  “I know,” Kagan said, “and Chip’s always been straight with me. He isn’t too popular around the station because he moved up to Detective so fast.”

  “True, he needs to do a super job on this homicide. Worst thing that could happen to him in his career right now is to screw this up. Was he ever married?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Kagan answered. “He’s not a wallflower. He was serious about a woman, the County Appraiser’s daughter, for a while. That was a few years back. An attorney at the courthouse told me his legal secretary now has something going with him.”

  “Something going with him,” she repeated under her breath.

  “What does the detective’s love life have to do with anything?” Ray wondered aloud.”

  “I promise I’ll be careful about what I let him know. At least up until the point where I get something going with him. Did I tell you he has perfect eyes?”

  “It’s in my notes somewhere.” Ray laughed and relaxed back in his chair; he just realized his invaluable sister might be interested in sticking around for a few more days.

  Chapter 22

  She had been in Park Beach five days and Sandy wasn’t pleased with her progress. It was Sunday and turning out to be a bad day to get things done. She had some notes to go over with Jerry Kagan but his law office was closed. Linda would be happy to see her but wasn’t working at the newspaper that day. And Sunday visiting hours at the jail were not until later. She wondered if Chip was snuggled at home with Miss Legal Secretary. After looking through her notes, she decided it was time to check out Norma Martin, the woman who wouldn’t talk to Chip.

  She pulled her Miata convertible into the lot behind the Jardin Café just as another woman parked and started walking to the restaurant. The woman was slightly underweight but nicely filled out her peasant blouse and tapered designer jeans. She wore her dark auburn hair pulled back tightly and wrapped with a band, the long bunch at the back bounced around her bare shoulders. Sandy guessed she couldn't be over forty at the most. Sandy envied the confident way she walked. She glided effortlessly over the rough gravel in her stilettos like a model on a runway.

  She noticed Sandy and glided over. “We don’t open until five. Love your little red car. I’ve seen it around town.” Then she frowned. “I know where, the police station—you’re police!”

  Sandy hesitated only an instant. “No, I’m a reporter. I’m looking for Norma Martin.”

  The color faded from the woman’s face. She took a step back and studied Sandy. “You’re a reporter?” The woman almost shrieked, “How did you find me?” She turned and hurried into the restaurant.

  Sandy hit speed dial #1 on her phone. It rang for some time before Goddard answered. “Will you trace a tag for me, Chip?”

  “It’s Sunday, go read the comics.”

  She read off the tag from the woman’s car. “It’s a white Buick Century, tag says Hillsborough County.”

  There was a long pause and then he said, “Okay, got it. Where did you spot this vehicle?”

  “At the Jardin Café.”

  “You shouldn’t be out there.” Then, after a minute, “Tag is registered to one Elena Duarte in Tampa. I know she’s a cook at the café. No surprise her vehicle would be there. What are you up to?”

  “I think it was Norma Martin. I think she’s connected to the murder.”

  “She already told me she lives with Elena Duarte, although I’m not too sure of that. Probably uses her vehicle. What else?”

  “I saw her. She acted guilty.”

  “That’s it, she acted guilty? That's nice, she acted guilty. Sandy, you didn’t talk to her, did you?”

  “I met her in the parking lot. No, I didn’t actually talk to her. She thought I was a reporter and came all apart. Give me her address.”

  “You’re not getting it. I don’t think our deal is going to work. I need to know what you’re doing, and I need to know in advance before you screw up something. Goodbye.”

  “Give me a chance, buddy,” she said into her dead phone.

  She opened her laptop and searched the Internet white pages for Elena Duarte. A phone number in Tampa came up. She punched in the number and got an answering machine with the default male electronic voice saying please leave a message. Sandy sat confused. So, we have a Norma Martin living in Park Beach with this Elena Duarte who doesn’t live in Park Beach, and Norma uses Elena’s car registered miles away in Tampa. Now she needed to talk to both Norma and this Elena.

  She drove back into town and parked in the police station parking lot intending to visit Raymond at the jail. She had just parked when Miss Runway Glider in her white Buick Century pulled in fast and stopped alongside. She motioned for Sandy to come over.

  “I followed you,” she spoke rapidly with no trace of accent, “please get in so we can talk. I shouldn’t be seen with you. I see your car parked here with police cars almost every day. I need help. What’s your name?”

  “Sandy. Hey, I’m not a reporter and I’m not police.”

  “You must know the police, you always park here.”

  “If that’s good, I do. If that’s bad, I don’t,” Sandy slid in beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m in trouble and my people can’t help me. The police are going to arrest me. This is very strange, but you must believe me. Everything was okay until Albert was killed.”

  “You can say that again,” Sandy replied. “Okay, slow down. You called him Albert. You knew him from the restaurant, I suppose.”

  “No, we would never go to the restaurant together, never. The way it started, they told me he’d be speaking at a street fair one day, so I followed him around. I flirted with him like I was told and it worked. That w
as the plan. He didn’t take the bait immediately, but I know how to get a man interested.”

  “No kidding.”

  The woman was excited. “They’ll find some of my things in his apartment. They'll arrest me. I didn’t kill him. It’s all political and terrible and all screwed up.”

  “What plan? Slow down and start at the beginning.”

  “I was supposed to meet him and have an affair. I was to leave a trail of evidence so when people checked it out, it would look like he was having an affair with Norma Martin.

  Sandy didn’t get it. “You mentioned your people. Who are we talking about here?”

  “Some of my Tampa relatives are part of La Familia. I don’t understand it all, it’s about politics. Anyway, after his campaign got rolling, all the evidence about him being involved with Norma Martin would come out and embarrass him. She’s married and the scandal would ruin his election. Then I’d disappear, move back to Tampa.”

  “In the first place, I don’t think a politician as smart as the senator would get involved with a married woman.”

  “He didn’t get involved with a married woman, he got involved with me. He checked me out and found I’m not married. But of course, Norma Martin is.”

  That stopped Sandy. It took a moment for her to ask slowly, “So, you’re not Norma Martin?”

  “She’s my mother. Just turned sixty but looks much younger, so she fit the plan okay. She’s the one who runs the restaurant.”

  “So, who are you?”

  “Elena Duarte. I’m an accountant from Tampa. They brought me down here just to set up the senator.”

  “You’re telling me Towson actually fell for this charade? Who did he think you were?”

  “I was myself, Elena Duarte from Tampa. That’s why I checked out okay for him. Why would he suspect anything? He saw my driver’s license, passport, and everything. We took some great trips. He didn’t show me off in public around here because I’m twenty years younger. Why be common about it, he once said. But if it ever did come out, so what, he was a normal bachelor dating a younger woman, both single, no big deal. Might even gain him some votes. He wasn’t aware that in the meantime, we were spreading the rumor he was seeing a married Norma Martin.”