One Deadly Sister

by Rod Hoisington

  “No gun in the box, but the mother called police anyway because it looked scary, as she put it. We’re interested because the box is obviously brand new and once contained a Smithy .38.”

  “Big deal, an empty box in a dumpster,” Moran said.

  “The dumpster is behind Tammy Jerrold’s place.”

  “Same caliber as the murder weapon,” the chief said. “Either that box once held the murder weapon or it’s an amazing coincident.”

  “What does this mean?” Moran was thinking aloud. “Found in Tammy’s dumpster? She bought a gun and threw the box away? You might not find her prints on it. It will be covered with a hundred prints from the factory, the store, the kid, and his mother.”

  “Well, that’s the surprise in this report. The box was recently wiped clean. We found only four sets of prints. The prints belong to the kid, his mother, our jailed suspect, and Tammy.”

  “Evidence found without prints is always suspicious,” the chief noted.

  Goddard continued, “Doesn’t make sense for Tammy to buy a gun, wipe the box clean, then touch it again and toss it in her dumpster. And if somebody else placed the box conspicuously to be found in Tammy’s dumpster, then how did her prints get on it?”

  “In any case, the box connects Reid and Tammy.” Moran made a low whistle. “Reid told us in his statement Loraine Dellin showed him a gun box containing a small revolver at the motel. Later he went to meet Tammy. But if it’s the same box that was at the motel, why didn’t we find Loraine’s prints on it?”

  Goddard answered, “She could have been the one who wiped it clean. Then Reid touched it—then Tammy touched it.”

  “Talk to Tammy again,” Moran ordered. “See how she explains it. Don’t wait, I want her in here now.”

  “We’ve already called her, she’s on her way,” the chief said.

  Goddard said. “Also I have new evidence on who Towson was having the affair with.”

  “You already told me it was Norma Martin,” Moran said.

  “That was because we had her DNA from a cigarette butt, and it matched the DNA found in the bathroom. Now I have her daughter’s DNA from a tissue she used and it also matches.

  “Of course,” the chief said, “the mother-daughter relationship would give us a preliminary match.”

  Moran said, “So, tell the lab to do deeper DNA probes. Until then, we won’t know which of them was up there in the apartment. In fact, both of them could have been up there.”

  Goddard continued, “The mother is married, sixty-something and spends her life in an apron. Towson would likely go for the daughter, Elena Duarte, who is footloose, twenty years younger, and an absolute knockout.”

  “And to think, our mastermind here came to that astonishing deduction all by himself,” Moran said. “How did you find all this out?”

  Goddard didn’t want to reveal Sandy as his source. “We have hearsay. Elena Duarte told Sandy Reid that the affair was a campaign dirty trick by Cuban-American gambling interests to embarrass Towson.”

  “Damn it. I’m the prosecuting attorney. Don’t pull that hearsay bullshit on me.”

  Goddard continued. “What we don’t have is any evidence someone intended for the trick to go farther and include murder. It’s possible the entire affair had nothing to do with the murder.”

  “The hearsay, Goddard! Go back to the hearsay. How is it you happen to know what Elena Duarte told Sandy Reid?”

  The chief interrupted, “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do.” Moran stood and faced Goddard. “You got that info from Sandy Reid didn’t you? Let’s hold your lame explanation of why you’re talking to her—probably across the pillow. Just explain how the suspect’s sister finds a possible suspect before you do.”

  “Elena Duarte would never have talked to the police,” Goddard said weakly.

  “That didn’t answer my question. Did you have anything to do with the sister meeting Elena Duarte, or was that also the sister’s idea?”

  “Unfortunately, I had nothing to do with it. Sandy Reid told me hoping I’d give her inside info in return.”

  “Did you ever get a statement from the mother?”

  “Tried but she wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “But you spoke to the daughter.”

  “No, haven’t met her,” he hated to admit.

  “Damn it! Then how did you obtain the DNA you just told me about? Did the sister get that for you as well?” Moran didn’t wait for an answer. “Goddard, consider yourself on probation as of now. Don’t force me to call in investigators from Tallahassee. We want the sister away from the investigation, and you can’t seem to stop her. What is she, some kind of runaway train?”

  “That’s pretty close,” Goddard said.

  The chief answered his phone. “Tammy’s waiting at the front desk.”

  Moran gathered his papers and started to leave. “Let me know how she explains how her prints got on the gun box, that’s got to be good. And Goddard, you’re on thin ice.”

  Goddard met Tammy at the entrance, and they walked back to the interrogation room. “I’m going to record an interview with you and have it typed up. You can sign it later. Okay?”

  “That’s fine, Chip.” She walked slowly, glancing around. “I haven’t been here in this department for years; I used to run all around this building every day. I remember when they built this dreaded little room. We played around with that two-way mirror over there.”

  “Trust me, no one’s on the other side. I’ll leave the door open.” He sat on a chair beside her. He clicked on the recorder and stated the place, date, and names. “This interrogation should be no surprise. Ray Reid and Loraine Dellin put you right in the middle of this mess.”

  “Chip, please understand, I loved the senator. You know all he did for me. I was practically his protégée. Most of my business came from his referrals. All that will stop now. I’m sick over his death for a lot of reasons, and a lot less money is one of them.”

  “When did you last speak to Al?”

  “At the now-infamous party the previous Saturday.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Tammy. But, I need to go back over what you told me about last Saturday.”

  “Sure. Saturday is my day to cover the office. I skipped out around noon and met with Reid at the restaurant. When he took off, I had a sandwich and went back to the office. Business is terrible. I didn’t leave the office that afternoon. At six, I was getting ready to leave when the chief phoned me with the shocker. Then Reid phoned me almost immediately. That’s when I phoned 911 with my suspicions and you picked him up. I told you all this before.”

  “Anyone physically see you in your office between three and six?”

  “I’m trying to think back. Can’t remember who came in. Lousy alibi, huh?”

  “Only the guilty have good alibis. Reid mentioned Norma Martin. Do you know her?”

  “I’ve been to her restaurant. I know who she is. I had the listing on that restaurant earlier but she didn’t buy it through me.”

  “Do you own a gun, Tammy?”

  “No, but I fired one once. You were in high school, Chip. I was dating a Deputy Sheriff.”

  “What was his name, perhaps I knew him?”

  “Carl Richards, I think. You wouldn’t know him it was years ago. He went back up north. Anyway, he got on a kick that I needed to protect myself. We went out to the firing range one day. He had me fire his service revolver, big and heavy. My arm ached for a month and my ears are still ringing.”

  “What about Sonny?” he asked.

  “Sonny…Barner? Reid asked me about him too. Said Loraine allegedly shot him, I think you know that.”

  “Are you friends with him?”

  “You mean socially? Good grief, haven’t you seen him?”

  “When did you last see him?”

  "As a matter of fact, he sprayed my apartment this week.”

  He picked up the red-striped bag from the table behind him. He opened
the clasp and carefully shook out the gun box onto the table. On the cover of the box was a picture of a small revolver resting on an American flag. “Have you ever seen this before?”

  “Yes! I threw out that box. It was weird. That empty box was stuffed down in a small shopping bag on the floor of my bedroom closet in the middle of all my shoes—I keep saying I’m going to straighten out that shoe mess one of these days. I assumed it was a shoe box in the bag at first, but it’s the wrong shape.”

  “What did you do with the gun?”

  “Never saw any gun.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “For what? Sure, now that I see that box in a police interrogation room, in an official bag marked ‘Evidence,’ in front of a frowning homicide detective who’s pointing at it, and staring at me, yes, it looks suspicious. But at my apartment, it was just something in an old shopping bag—an empty toy box someone stuck in there at some store thinking it was trash. Look at it, Chip. It’s bright red white and blue with a flag on it, I’m supposed to get excited about that? I shook it to be sure it was empty. I don’t know. I was preoccupied, late for work. It meant nothing to me. I tossed it and forgot all about it.”

  “When was this?”

  “Let me think—Friday.”

  “When is your trash pickup?”

  “Tomorrow. I feel so dim-witted now. I goofed didn’t I? It’s important isn’t it? Was the murder weapon in that box?”

  “Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?”

  “Of course, hook me up, sir.”

  “Maybe later, thanks for coming in, Tammy.” He stopped the recorder. “Before you go, I’d like to give you some advice, just old friend to friend. Stop using Sonny Barner for exterminating. In fact, don’t let him in your condo ever again and never be alone with him.”

  "Sounds like he's a suspect.”

  “The man is sexually obsessed with you.”

  “I’ve dealt with that phenomenon since middle school. I’m accustomed to overactive imaginations, is it more than that?”

  “My advice is to keep him out of your place. That’s not official, just my personal suspicion.”

  “Okay thanks, and I have my own suspicions about Ray Reid."

  Chapter 25

  After dark on that Monday, Sandy sat in her car behind the Jardin Café waiting for Norma Martin. In truth, she wanted the mother and her daughter, Elena, to be possible suspects. Nothing personal, Sandy actually wanted everyone in the world to be a suspect.

  When they accuse you of murder, you can’t have too many others who are also suspects. They don’t have to be first-class suspects or even logical suspects, although that would be even better. They just have to be people somehow connected to the case. Kagan would attempt to get them mentioned in the trial. Then he could talk about them in front of the jury. He probably couldn’t make each person appear to be a possible killer, but he could raise some doubts in the jurors’ minds. If in doubt, you must acquit.

  The first time Sandy drove out to the Jardin Café, she had encountered Elena whose explanation of her affair with Towson was fascinating, but perhaps contrived. Was her affair nothing more than a campaign dirty trick against Towson? Or was the affair a setup for an assassination? Sandy wanted to talk with Norma Martin. Maybe she would at least give a hint as to whether Elena had actually been in love with Towson. Sandy would very much like to get her, her daughter, or the family connected somehow to the murder.

  Sandy’s plan was to light a fuse by mentioning La Familia, wait, and see what blows up. That’s what she did, and that’s what happened. The mother became visibly agitated and screamed for Sandy to wait outside.

  Her phone buzzed. It was the law firm in Philadelphia. “Hey, Joanna. You’re working late. How’s Walde & Walde doing without me?”

  “Honey, you’ve got a big problem up here. Your absence has not gone unnoticed, to put it mildly. Ron is coming all apart. He told me to get you on the phone. Be gentle with him, he’s been covering your cute little tail all week. Here he is.”

  Her boss came on the line. “Sandy, what are you doing to me? Eberhard didn’t miss you until they started discussing two of your field cases at Friday’s staff meeting, then it hit the fan. Are you listening?”

  “Yes, Ron, go on.” She guessed what was coming.

  “He chewed me out. In short, he said you’re fired. I stretched things and told him your fieldwork on those cases was complete. I said everything was cool, and you’d be back for this Wednesday’s staff meeting. You have to be there or else.”

  “Thanks for the cover. I love you guys and my job, and I’m not going to give it up, but….”

  “But, nothing! Get your ass back up here by Wednesday, or you’ll blow it. Law students from all over the east coast are lined up waiting to replace you, and they’ll work for free just for the internship.”

  “Ron, I know it’s not your problem, but my brother is in deep shit. I think I’m doing some good, but it’s going to take awhile longer unless I get a break of some kind.”

  “Sandy, you’re smarter than this. Pack and leave right now.”

  She thought back to when she had started with Walde & Walde as an unpaid intern. They liked her and gave her a paid position. All the lawyers worked at least ten-hour days, and she worked hard to keep up with her field support. It paid off when the firm offered to finance her remaining tuition so she could finish her law studies at Penn part time. She’d be on her way. She’d have it made. Her dream was there on the other end of the line, right there in her hand.

  “Do you want to keep this job? Yes or no?”

  She wanted the job and she would go back. She had to. Yet she was somehow reluctant to say, yes. Not everything was straight in her mind. “I need to sleep on it. I’ll phone you in the morning.”

  She looked at her watch. She’d go back to Raymond’s apartment and pack. A few hours of sleep and she would be ready to head north on I95. If she drove straight through, she’d make the meeting on time. There were two additional awkward situations: Raymond and Chip.

  She knew that her brother would accept her leaving without complaint—he was expecting it at anytime. However, visiting hours weren’t until tomorrow afternoon. There was no way to see Raymond before she left town.

  She wanted to explain how she wished she could stay. Wanted to tell him that she was beginning to like him and hoped they could be friends, and that her leaving had nothing to do with him. That she hoped she had helped and would be in contact from Philly. She could explain it all eventually, but how much would he believe if she left without even a goodbye?

  Chip was another story. A story that would have a predictable ending. And the ending would start tonight. She punched speed dial #1.

  He was in Chief Oehlert’s office. “Hi, Sandy, we’re working late. What do you want?”

  “Get the edge out of your voice, Chip. I have something important to tell you.”

  “Well, I’ll be tied up for most of the night. Call me in the morning, okay?”

  “Chip—I’m leaving. This is goodbye.”

  “What, wait let me step out into the hall. Go on.”

  “I was just given an ultimatum from my employer. I have one day to get back up there or they’ll terminate me. I know my brother appreciates my efforts, but I don’t know if I’m doing any good or not down here.”

  “He does appreciate you. Don’t say I told you, but I think you’re making great progress.”

  “I can’t give up that job, Chip.”

  “I know you have responsibilities up there.”

  “…and I’m supposed to trade all that for—whatever might happen down here? I don’t mean you, Chip. I don’t know if I’m the answer for my brother’s problems anyway.”

  “You should do whatever is best for you and your career.”

  “I’ll miss being able to annoy you.”

  “I’ll miss being annoyed. You know, I’d like to call you sometime in Philadelphia.”
r />   They both were silent.

  Then he said, “This is really a surprise. Can I see you now?”

  She wondered what it would lead to if she saw him tonight, and wondered if that was what she really wanted. She hadn’t wanted to get too close to Chip while her brother was in jail, but now she was leaving and would be off stage. Chip was the most appealing and solid man she had ever met. She knew him well enough to know they would begin with an embrace this evening and end with a distressing goodbye in the early hours tomorrow. Of course, there would be a brief epilog, she imagined, of subsequent long distance calls and e-mails that would lessen and eventually give way to the daily substance of their separated lives. That would be how it ends.

  “Why don’t we meet at Raymond’s apartment in one hour?” she said it with some hesitation. “You know where it is, you tore it apart.”

  “Okay, one hour it is. Where are you now?”

  “The Jardin, I’m in my car in the parking lot. I was checking on Elena’s story. I wanted to know if this was a love thing or a sinister plot. I just saw her mother inside. She said she couldn’t talk inside because someone is always watching her. She told me to go on outside and wait.”

  “Her mother? What the hell? Sandy, I want you to drop that part of your digging. Don’t go to see any of that family or even nose around. Drop it right now. Let me handle it. You’re playing with the big boys there.”

  “I have no choice but to drop it. It’s all yours now, I just got the ultimatum from my boss. I must give this up now and go home and pack.”

  “Good, well get out of there fast! You’re sitting alone in a dark parking lot, out in the sticks, in that little plaything you call a car. You’ve probably got the top down.”

  Then, over to her left, she heard an engine roar and saw a huge vehicle roll into the lot. It stopped abruptly in the middle of the driveway. The vehicle stayed where it stopped, motionless. She sat there harshly illuminated, targeted in the headlight’s glare, watching for any sign of movement.

  Another full minute passed. Then the headlights switched to bright. The phone was still in her hand. In a whisper, “Chip, don’t hang up. I think I have a problem. There’s a huge SUV stopped in the middle of the driveway aimed right at me and the driver isn’t moving. God, it looks enormous. Like a tank, big and square with bars going across the front.”