Beneath the Depths

by Bruce Robert Coffin

  “How about you? Any leads from the club?”

  “Babbage didn’t work last night. She called in sick.”

  “Great. Any of the girls willing to talk?”

  “I rattled a few cages but they’re as well trained as politicians, talking without saying a damned thing. Tran is back working on the SIM cards. There’s a lot of data.”

  “Figured as much.”

  “You look like crap, John. I know you haven’t slept. Why don’t you go home? Get some sleep.”

  “I’d love nothing more but I’m not sure I can shut my brain off.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  He shook his head. “I forgot. You?”

  “Nothing worth mentioning. Let’s take a ride. We both need real food.”

  Byron opened one eye. “You still pissed at me?”

  “Who could possibly stay mad at you, John Byron?”

  “Lots of people, I imagine.”

  She stood. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tuesday, 8:00 a.m., May 3, 2016

  “I’m having a difficult time following all this, John,” LeRoyer said. “So, who do you think killed Ramsey? DeWitt?”

  “It’s possible,” Byron said. “But if he is responsible, he was doing it for someone else. I’m thinking Branch had the best motive. Ramsey was shagging his wife.”

  “And that’s Lorraine Davies?”

  “Correct.”

  “Jesus,” LeRoyer said, running his fingers back through his hair.

  Byron frequently wondered how it was that the lieutenant’s nervous tic hadn’t caused him to go completely bald.

  “So you think Branch might have killed Ramsey,” LeRoyer said.

  “Or had him killed,” Diane added.

  “Okay,” LeRoyer said. “Or had him killed. Then what? He killed the stripper and the drug dealer to shut them up?”

  “Could be that simple,” Byron said. “He had motive, but did he have the opportunity? We need to establish timelines for Branch, DeWitt, and Davies on the day Ramsey went missing.”

  “What about the other two murders?” LeRoyer asked.

  “If we can prove who it was that killed Ramsey, the other two might just fall into place,” Diane said.

  LeRoyer shook his head in disbelief. His face had taken on a deeply troubled expression. “Branch?”

  “Makes the most sense,” Byron said. Diane nodded her agreement.

  “Stanton is gonna lose his mind when he finds out you’re looking into Branch,” LeRoyer said.

  “Why does he need to know?” Byron said.

  LeRoyer looked Byron up and down.

  “Because he’s the goddamned police chief, for one,” LeRoyer said.

  “Yeah, and he also seems to have a direct line to Branch,” Diane said.

  “I don’t give two shits how much money Branch has donated to the department’s K-9 program,” Byron said.

  “Maybe you don’t, Sergeant, but Chief Stanton does.”

  “Can I add my two cents to this?” Diane asked.

  “No,” LeRoyer barked. “I don’t need the two of you ganging up on me. I get it.” He gave his hair several more passes for good measure.

  “It’s pretty simple, Marty,” Byron said. “You have to decide what kind of lieutenant you’re going to be.” LeRoyer shot him a “watch yourself” look. “Either you want to be the kind that goes to bat when his people really need him or the kind that has to point to the bars on his collar to remind people he’s in charge.”

  The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed but his smirk betrayed his feigned ire. “Oh, you want me to show you who’s in charge, huh? Okay, both of you get the fuck out of my office.”

  Byron and Diane were headed for the door when LeRoyer stopped them.

  “I’ll keep it quiet as long as I can, although I’m not sure what good it will do. As soon as you start questioning people at the firm, Branch is gonna know. Fuck. Just tread lightly, okay?”

  “Thanks, Marty,” Byron said.

  “It’s ‘Lieutenant,’” LeRoyer said, pointing to his collar. “Now get the hell outta here!”

  Diane was updating the board in the conference CID room with the most current information while Byron sat at the end of the long table updating the others. Pelligrosso, who had already headed to Augusta for the post, was the only member of the team not present.

  “I watched the video of Amy Brennan’s interview,” Stevens said. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her hanging out at one of my favorite bars.”

  “Looking for Mr. Gay Bar,” Nugent said.

  Stevens reached over and punched him in the arm.

  “Your point?” Byron asked.

  “Does Brennan think that any of the people at the firm will talk to us?”

  “She doesn’t know,” Byron said. “But I don’t want to burn her as the source if we can help it. I’m thinking we say that we have several different people telling us about this affair and we interview Brennan right along with everyone else in the office if we have to.” He looked at Stevens. “If we end up doing that, you want to interview her?”

  “Sure,” Stevens said. She fixed Nugent with a menacing stare. “Want another one?”

  “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” Nugent said, grinning.

  “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” Diane said.

  “No,” Byron said. “Hopefully they’ll admit it to keep it from involving the entire firm.”

  “So how do you want to do this?” Nugent asked.

  “I was thinking Mel and I could talk with Davies,” Diane said. “She might be more open to confiding in us.”

  “Good idea,” Byron said. “Branch is less likely to be embarrassed if it’s just us guys.”

  “What about me, Boss Man?” Tran asked.

  “Sorry, Pencil Neck,” Nugent said. “He said guys.”

  Tran flipped Nugent off without looking at him.

  “Dustin, I want you to dig up everything you can on everyone at that firm,” Byron said. “Especially on Branch, DeWitt, Davies, and Brennan.”

  “Why Brennan?” Tran asked.

  “Because, my young Jedi,” Nugent said. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone pretended to be helpful just so they could fuck up an investigation.”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” Byron agreed.

  As soon as the meeting in CID ended, Diane phoned Attorney Davies, requesting to speak with her in person.

  It was nearly eleven as Amy Brennan led Diane and Detective Stevens down the hall to Davies’s office.

  “Detectives,” Davies said as she stood to greet them. “Won’t you both have a seat?”

  “Thank you,” Diane said.

  Diane was surprised to see Brennan sit down beside Davies.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Attorney Davies,” Diane said.

  “Please, call me Lorraine. You indicated over the phone that you wanted to discuss something with me.”

  “We do,” Diane said, glancing at Brennan. “However, it’s actually rather personal. It’s about Paul Ramsey.”

  Davies turned to Brennan. “Would you excuse us, Amy?”

  “Certainly,” Brennan said.

  They waited until Brennan had departed before speaking further.

  “We are all still in shock, I think,” Davies said. “It’s just so tragic. Do you have any information about what may have happened to him?”

  “We’re still working on that,” Diane said. “There’s no easy way to ask this, Lorraine, so I’m just going to come out with it. Were you having an affair with Paul Ramsey?”

  Davies’s eyes widened as she looked from Diane to Stevens then back to Diane. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “We have reason to believe that the two of you were involved when he was murdered,” Stevens said.

  “Who told you that?”

  “I’m afraid we can’t divulge that,” Diane said.

  Lorraine looked down, folding her hand
s together and placing them on her desk. “Paul and I were involved, but I broke it off.”

  “Did your husband know?” Stevens asked.

  “Yes. Devon came to me in March and asked if I was having an affair.”

  “Did he know it was Paul?” Stevens asked.

  Davies nodded.

  “What happened?” Diane asked.

  “How do these things ever happen? Last year Devon and I hosted the firm’s Christmas party at our home in Topsham and it just happened. I guess I could blame it on the wine. But it was more than that. Mutual attraction, maybe. Paul was very attractive, and charming, when he wanted to be. Somehow we ended up upstairs in a spare room and it just happened.” Davies dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips.

  “But your husband didn’t find out till later?” Diane asked.

  “No. Not until March. He never knew about the party.”

  “How did he react?” Diane asked.

  “Ha,” she said, giving a short mock laugh. “Not very well.”

  “Did he ever threaten either of you?”

  “Devon?”

  The detectives nodded.

  “Of course not. If you knew my husband you’d know that he’s not capable of violence. Or, for that matter, any other emotion.”

  “Meaning?” Diane asked.

  “Meaning that’s probably why I got mixed up with Paul. He is—was a very passionate man. He never hid his emotions. Guess maybe I needed that in my life.”

  “When did you break it off with Ramsey?” Stevens asked.

  Davies shook her head. “I don’t know the exact date. The end of March, I think. May I ask what any of this has to do with Paul’s murder?”

  Diane paused a moment for effect. “Lorraine, do you own a gun?”

  Byron and Nugent sat across from Devon Branch in his office. Unlike the last meeting, when the attorney had established his power by keeping his desk between them, the only thing separating them now was a coffee table and three mugs.

  “I can’t imagine where you heard such a thing,” Branch said, absently rubbing his fingers over his chin then checking his hand as if he expected to see something there.

  “Are you saying it isn’t true?” Byron asked.

  Branch looked up from his hand, staring directly at Byron. “Am I now suspected of having brought about Paul’s demise?”

  “This is a homicide investigation, Mr. Branch,” Byron said. “Everyone is a possible suspect until we rule them out.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t be very good detectives if you didn’t think that way.”

  “No, sir, we wouldn’t,” Nugent chimed in.

  “You still haven’t answered my question, Mr. Branch,” Byron said. “Was your wife having an affair with Paul Ramsey?”

  “Kind of a no-win for me, isn’t it?”

  “How do you figure?” Byron said.

  “I tell you she wasn’t and you’ll merely run roughshod over my entire firm asking everyone if she was, causing Lorraine and me a great deal of embarrassment. If I say she was, you and your entire department will know my personal business.”

  “Contrary to what you obviously think, Detective Nugent and I take no satisfaction in asking you about your marital troubles, but we do need to know the truth.”

  The detectives waited while Branch thought it over. Byron maintained eye contact. The room was noticeably and uncomfortably silent.

  “Yes, Sergeant Byron,” Branch said at last. “She was. But it was over.”

  “How do you know?” Byron asked.

  “I know because Lorraine told me she was ending it,” Branch said, his tone full of indignation. As if his unfaithful wife would never lie about such a thing.

  “When was that?”

  “Several weeks ago.”

  “And you believe her?”

  “Of course I do. She is my wife. Are you married?”

  Byron knew he’d hit a nerve. The well-versed defense attorney was used to going on the offensive. Turn the tables if you’re losing. It was right out of the trial lawyers’ handbook.

  “My personal life has nothing to do with your marital problems,” Byron countered.

  “I disagree, Sergeant. You asked me if I believed Lorraine when she told me the affair had ended. I love my wife, Sergeant Byron. In spite of what happened between her and that fu—” Branch took a second to compose himself. “Between her and Paul, I still love her and respect her. If she says it was over, then it was. Would you believe your wife?”

  Byron ignored the question and pressed on. “When did you find out about the affair?”

  “Near the middle of March. I suspected something was wrong because, well, because I did. We’d been having problems. This job requires a monstrous commitment. Lorraine and I both work close to eighty hours a week, a schedule that makes meaningful communication difficult.” Branch glanced over at Nugent. “Given your line of work, I’m sure you both can understand.”

  Nugent nodded.

  Byron remained silent.

  Branch paused to pick up his mug before resuming. “I confronted her about Paul and she admitted it.”

  “What did you do?” Byron asked.

  “What could I do? We separated for a while. Told me she needed some time to figure it out. She already had the apartment in town, so she stayed there. It would’ve been embarrassing, both to me and the firm, if it got out.”

  “Embarrassing to Lorraine as well,” Byron said.

  “Obviously,” Branch snapped.

  “Evidently it did get out, or we wouldn’t be here,” Byron said.

  “Evidently,” Branch said.

  “Did you ever confront Ramsey?” Nugent asked.

  “No,” Branch said. “Paul was an arrogant son of a bitch. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.”

  “Were you afraid of him?” Byron asked.

  “I certainly was not,” Branch said, emphasizing each word. “This is my firm. Paul Ramsey worked for me.”

  “If you hated the guy so much, why keep him around?” Nugent asked.

  “Because he was a good trial lawyer. He won cases. Period. This firm is a business, gentlemen. Unlike the cushy taxpayer jobs that you have, I have to stay in the black. In spite of all those cutesy commercials our advertising arm puts out about getting results and being in your corner, we are in business to make money. It’s that simple. We don’t take cases we can’t win. We settle when the money is right or we go to trial and take a third off the top, plus expenses.”

  “Too bad you don’t include that in your commercials,” Byron said, pushing him harder for a reaction. “Imagine how illuminating that would be.”

  For a moment, Byron saw a flicker of rage in Branch’s eyes, then it was gone, just as quickly as if he’d extinguished it with water. Control returned.

  “Must have really pissed you off when Ramsey lost the case against the Medical Center. I’m no lawyer but I would assume that ten percent of ten million is much better than nothing. Plus, can’t imagine how many hours went into that suit. Billable hours matter in this business, right?”

  Branch awkwardly set his mug back on the table. His hands were visibly shaking. Byron could see that he was struggling to maintain composure.

  “You came in here and asked me if my wife was having an affair, and I’ve answered your questions, for a second time. If there is nothing else, Detectives, I’m afraid I must get back to my job.”

  “Actually,” Byron said. “There is. Where were you the night Ramsey was killed?”

  “When was that?”

  “Last Tuesday,” Nugent said.

  “Let me think. I left here about six-thirty, drove to Brunswick, had dinner at Giovanni’s, then went directly home.”

  “Who were you with?” Byron asked.

  “No one.”

  “Where was your wife?” Byron asked.

  “You’ll have to ask her. I’m somewhat surprised you don’t know already, seeing as how you know so much about her.”
<
br />   “Did your wife come home last Tuesday night?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember. As I said, you’ll have to speak with her.”

  “Because?” Byron said.

  “What?” Branch asked.

  “You said earlier that you suspected that your wife was having an affair because, but you didn’t tell us why.”

  “You know what, Sergeant? I think I’m done, with both of you. You can show yourselves out.”

  “Thanks for your time,” Byron said.

  The detectives had almost reached the door when Byron stopped and turned toward Branch. “One more thing. Do either of you own a gun?”

  Branch appeared momentarily taken aback by the question.

  Byron waited for him to respond.

  “We did, but it was stolen.”

  After learning that Branch had reported a break-in, in which a handgun was stolen, Byron telephoned the Topsham Police Department then dropped Nugent off at 109. He knew that Branch would be on the horn to Stanton in short order, if he hadn’t called already. He didn’t want LeRoyer trying to interfere with his next step, meeting with the detective who’d followed up on the burglary report.

  “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Nugent asked as he opened the passenger door.

  “Someone has to stay here and run interference with the LT, Nuge.”

  “You got it.” He leaned into the car before shutting the door. “If LeRoyer asks, do I know where you went?”

  “Why, I didn’t tell you,” Byron said, grinning.

  A light rain had begun to fall as Byron drove north on the interstate. His eyes were on the road but his thoughts were elsewhere. Driving on autopilot was par for the course when working a murder. He stared straight ahead, nearly oblivious of the cars he was passing. The wipers had a hypnotic effect on him.

  Why hadn’t Branch mentioned the stolen gun before? he wondered. What else was he hiding? So many questions still unanswered and unresolved. But not only questions about the case. There were other questions eating at him. Distracting him.

  Why hadn’t he told Diane about his lunch with Kay? It was only work-related after all. Right? Then why did he hold that back? Because he still had feelings. Of course he did. Kay had been his wife for two decades. He had loved her even during their separation and subsequent divorce. He’d never stopped loving her. The problem was that he’d loved the job more. And Kay knew it. She knew what he was and what he always would be. He hadn’t consciously put her second, but it happened just the same. But now he had feelings for Diane. He cared for her. Did he love her? He didn’t know. He thought he might, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit again. It had ended so badly the last time. Byron slid back into the passing lane, shaking off the hypnosis long enough to check the side and rearview mirrors before passing the tractor trailer.