Kill Shot (Romantic Suspense)

by J. D. Faver

  “That’s right, Mr. Best.” Oz gestured to the deserted lobby where they couldn’t be overheard. “I just had a few more questions for you.”

  “Anything I can do to help, officer.”

  “Can you account for your whereabouts on Monday the third?”

  “Not right off hand,” Jason said. “Why do you ask?”

  “That’s when Randal Knox died.”

  Jason gave him a somewhat theatrical look intended to denote surprise. “You don’t honestly think that I had anything to do with Randy’s death, do you?”

  Oz lifted the corners of his mouth in a smile. “It’s not my job to interpret the information, Mr. Best. I’m only gathering data. Where were you last Monday?”

  “I was with Laurel...Mrs. Jobe.”

  “All night?”

  “That would be correct.” He winked at Oz. “The old man was out of the country.”

  A sense of loathing roiled in the pit of Oz’ stomach. “Will Mrs. Jobe confirm this account?”

  “I can’t think why not,” Jason said. “Just don’t ask her in front of the old man.”

  “Mrs. Jobe tells me that Mr. Jobe knows about your involvement with his wife. Is that true?”

  Jason ran his fingers through his longish bangs, brushing them out of his eyes. “I’m afraid so. I let something slip in front of him.”

  “Was he upset?”

  “Not so that you’d notice. He just got a little tight lipped and left.” Jason looked around as though someone might hear. “I’m in love with Laurel, you know. She’s in love with me. She’s going to leave Hobart so we can be together.”

  Oz stared at him without expression. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” he nodded his head confidently. “There’s going to be a big custody fight because of the baby, but doesn’t the judge always side with the mother?”

  “I think the judge tries to decide in favor of the child.” He glared at Jason.

  Jason rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as though trying to decide what that might be.

  #

  Micki tried to reconstruct her date book, but was at a loss because it contained important phone numbers and appointments with various bridal couples to discuss her fees and services.

  She drove to St. Basil’s and posted her card on the bulletin board and talked to the church secretary regarding the weddings booked at the church. She took away a list of contacts to follow up on.

  Circling the block, she passed a large red brick church of another denomination. Micki parked and ran a brush through her hair. What the heck. Might as well give the Methodists a try.

  She entered the church office, her footsteps sounding unnaturally loud on the hard surface. A pale faced woman peered at her over skinny reading glasses.

  Micki smiled at her brightly. “I’d like to see the bulletin you pass out at church services.”

  The woman looked at her as though she was speaking a foreign language.

  “I might want to advertise in the bulletin,” Micki said. “Do you have a copy I can look at?”

  Without a word the woman opened a perfectly ordered file drawer and handed her a copy. The bulletin was in color, more expensive than St. Basil’s and a furniture store seemed to be the only sponsor.

  After a short wrestle for answers, Micki determined that she could afford to place a business card sized ad in the bulletin. Her card had all the information including the words, weddings and special events photography. That said it all and might lead to some Methodist weddings and christenings. She wrote the woman a check for a three month period and left.

  Feeling a sense of accomplishment for having tried to open a new door, she headed for a large electronics store to drool over new computers in anticipation of receiving her insurance check.

  #

  “There has to be a connection,” Qualls said. “It’s unlikely that Hobart Jobe’s attorney would offer to represent a guy like Philip Luka otherwise.”

  Oz sat on the corner of his boss’s desk, frowning. “Yeah, but did Jobe hate his wife’s former lover enough to have him killed and if so, why not go after the current boy toy instead?”

  “Can’t help you there,” Qualls said. “My brain doesn’t think like the mega-rich.”

  “My brain would be urging me to kill my wife’s lover the first moment I knew about him,” Oz said.

  Qualls grinned at him. “Speaking of which, what’s the deal with you and Micki? She’s quite a girl.”

  “Big understatement.” Oz grinned, remembering his promise to keep their engagement secret.

  “Dynamite comes in small packages,” Qualls said.

  “Micki hates to be called small. She’s five-foot six and all muscle. I couldn’t believe she went after Luka like a big dog.”

  “She looks tiny when she’s standing next to you.”

  Oz nodded, thoughtfully. “Everything’s relative.”

  “What are you thinking?” Qualls asked.

  “Lissa Montgomery said the thing that set Knox off when he attacked her was when she mentioned that Laurel was buying presents for Jason.”

  Qualls nodded, made notes on a legal pad.

  “What would happen if we brought Laurel Jobe in for questioning in regard to the Knox murder? She admitted a relationship with the guy and he was hyped up on steroids and known for violence toward women. Maybe he threatened her.”

  Qualls underlined the name Jobe written in large block letters on his pad. “It’s thin, Oz.”

  “What else do we have?”

  Qualls shoved the pad across his desk. “Not a damned thing!” He threw his ball point against the wall like a dart. “Do it, Oz. Wear your best suit and bring the lady in. Take a uniform along.”

  When Oz appeared at the Jobe apartment he had Vinnie with him. The door was opened by a surprised looking Javier, the chauffer.

  Oz frowned momentarily, thinking he’d seen him in some other context, then shook it off and asked for Mrs. Jobe.

  Laurel Jobe also looked surprised. Her welcoming smile froze when she spotted the uniformed Vinnie standing behind Oz.

  “Mrs. Jobe, we have further questions to ask you in regard to the murder of Randal Knox. Please come along with us to answer those questions at the police station.” He held out a hand to indicate she was to accompany them.

  Laurel looked shaken. “You’re arresting me?”

  Oz gave her a long solemn look. “Did you want me to arrest you?” He placed his hands on the handcuffs hooked to his belt.

  “No, of course not.” She turned to Lissa and Javier who stood gaping at Oz and Vinnie. “Lissa, bring my handbag and call my husband immediately.”

  A wide-eyed Lissa handed Laurel a large leather bag. “I’ll call Mr. Jobe right away, Ma’am,” she whispered.

  Laurel nodded and swept into the private elevator in front of the police officers.

  #

  Oz and Vinnie escorted Laurel Jobe to an interrogation room with the entire station staring as they walked by. Oz noted that the room had been cleaned and smelled fresh.

  Laurel declined any refreshment but checked herself out in the two-way mirror when they left her alone.

  Oz joined Lieutenant Qualls in the observation room on the other side of the mirror.

  “What do you think, Oz?” Qualls asked.

  “She had someone call Hobart Jobe, first thing,” Oz said. “He should be here any minute, loaded for bear.”

  Qualls shook his head. “It’s my career they’re going to take aim at. He’ll call the Mayor. Hell, he’ll probably call the Governor.”

  “Do you want to wait, sir?” Oz asked.

  “Nope, we’re in it up to our necks. Might as well start swimming for shore.” He motioned for Oz to follow him.

  Laurel Jobe looked up when Lieutenant Qualls entered the room. She looked him over appraisingly as though deciding how to play it.

  Oz stood behind Qualls, unobtrusive, but in her line of sight.

  Qualls placed a small tape record
er on the table and for the first time, Laurel looked frightened.

  “Can I ask what this is all about?” she asked.

  “Certainly, Mrs. Jobe. We’re inquiring as to any knowledge you might have regarding the death of Mr. Randal Knox with whom you were intimately acquainted.”

  She blinked several times, obviously not accustomed to such blunt speech from public servants.

  “For the record, please state your name,” Qualls said.

  “It’s Laurel Jobe. Mrs. Hobart Jobe,” she said deliberately as though he hadn’t known.

  “Mrs. Jobe, when was the last time you saw Mr. Knox?”

  “I’m not sure. It was probably last week sometime. Maybe Monday.”

  “And where did that meeting take place?”

  “I didn’t meet him. I just saw him hanging around the spa.”

  Oz interrupted. “Mrs. Jobe, I was told that you didn’t frequent the spa, but that the people who worked there went to your penthouse to provide services. Is that correct?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  Qualls looked at her, his expression solemn and unreadable. “Do you wish to amend your statement as to the last time you met with Mr. Knox?”

  She moistened her lips and blinked a couple of times. “He came to the penthouse that morning. Javier had driven Lissa to the park with Trey. Randy must have seen them leave. He came up in the private elevator.” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “He was in my home without invitation.”

  “What happened?” Qualls asked.

  “He was angry with me for hiring another trainer. He wanted me to take him back.”

  “When you say he was angry with you, what did he do?”

  Laurel looked down at her hands. “His face looked angry. He grabbed me and kissed me. He wanted to make love to me.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I was scared,” she said. “Randy was such a big man... so I let him.”

  Oz let out a silent breath. Bingo!

  “So you’re saying you had a sexual encounter with Randal Knox on the morning of Monday the third?”

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  A knock on the door precluded any other questions.

  Vinnie opened the door and spoke to Lieutenant Qualls. “Mrs. Jobe’s attorney is here.

  “Tell him to wait,” Qualls said.

  Vinnie closed the door.

  Qualls narrowed his gaze at Laurel Jobe. “Mrs. Jobe, you understand that you are not under arrest? You are cooperating in a murder investigation.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “The information you have shared with us does not have to be shared with your attorney unless you wish to make it available to him.” He searched her face. “What are your wishes, Mrs. Jobe?”

  “I don’t want him to know about Randy and what we did.” She glanced toward the door.

  “Mrs. Jobe, when you last saw Mr. Knox, was he alive?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He left the same way he came in. That was the last time I saw him.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Jobe,” Qualls said. “That will be all.”

  Laurel stood up and looked around uncertainly.

  Oz stepped forward to open the door for her and she walked through it, hesitating when she saw Marshall Keanes across the room.

  “Laurel!” Keanes came to her side. “Are you alright? Have they threatened you in any way?”

  She recovered some of her dignity. “No, of course not.”

  Lieutenant Qualls stepped forward quietly. “Thank you for your assistance, Mrs. Jobe. We appreciate your cooperation.” He eyed Keanes coldly.

  Oz noted that Hobart Jobe did not come to his wife’s aid when he perceived that she was in trouble but rather, sent a hired hand.

  The entire group of police officers and detectives watched Laurel Jobe sweep out of the station on the arm of the glowering attorney.

  “What do you think?” Oz asked.

  “I think we may have learned why Randal Knox was killed.” Lieutenant Qualls adjusted his tie and squared his shoulders.

  “But she couldn’t have done it,” Oz said. “She’s way too short. Aida said the blow was to the frontal lobe and was struck by someone at least as tall as the victim. Knox was well over six feet tall, almost as tall as I am.”

  “I know. We don’t have any suspects that height.” Qualls raised his brows in a comical leer. “Maybe she stood on a ladder.”

  “What’s our next move, sir?” Oz asked.

  “Let’s round up Hobart Jobe and see what he knows. I’ll be lucky to be walking a beat by the end of the day.” Qualls ran his hand over his slicked back hair and retreated to his office, shaking his head.

  #

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Oz and Vinnie were sent to pick up Hobart Jobe in much the same way they brought in his wife. They went to his office in the Jobe Tower West and invited him to accompany them to the station.

  It was clear that Hobart Jobe considered riding in the back of a black and white far beneath him.

  Oz observed that he didn’t appear to be in any distress; rather, he seemed annoyed at having been intruded upon.

  Lieutenant Qualls didn’t keep Hobart Jobe waiting in the interrogation room. He opened the door for him and Oz tucked in quietly behind them.

  Jobe expressed distaste for the surroundings with an exquisite flick of his eyes around the shabby room.

  Qualls gestured to a chair and seated himself across from him. He started the recorder. “For the record, please state your name.”

  “I have no intention of speaking until my attorney arrives,” he said.

  Lieutenant Qualls stood. “Very well, Mr. Jobe. Can we offer you some coffee?”

  Jobe sniffed and looked at the blank wall.

  “We’ll show your attorney in whenever he arrives.”

  Qualls and Oz left Hobart Jobe simmering in the interrogation room. Oz was pouring a cup of coffee when he saw a limo slide to a stop outside the station house. Javier, the Jobe’s chauffer got out and opened the door for Laurel. She looked distraught as she climbed the steps. Javier climbed behind the wheel, but remained double parked at the curb.

  She barged into Qualls office with her teeth on edge. “I thought you said you weren’t going to say anything about...you know?”

  “Mrs. Jobe,” Qualls said. “I assure you that we haven’t revealed anything you’ve told us.”

  “Then why is my husband here?” she demanded, her voice rising in pitch.

  “We wanted to extend to him the same courtesy as we did to you. He has an opportunity to act as a good citizen by coming forth with any information he might possess relevant to the murder of Randal Knox.”

  “That’s it?” She looked incredulous. Qualls offered her a chair in an empty office where she sat with her arms crossed across her chest.

  “Now what?” Oz asked.

  “We wait until the attorney arrives. We can’t question Jobe without him present, so we wait.”

  It took Marshall Keanes two hours to arrive at the police station and by that time Hobart Jobe had wilted completely. His face sagged and he looked like a man who had given up all hope.

  Laurel Jobe paced for a while, but the stiletto sandals she wore did not lend themselves to pacing for long periods of time, so she went back to sitting.

  By the time Keanes had talked to his client and advised him not to speak, there was little information to be gained and Qualls allowed Laurel and Keanes to usher Hobart to the waiting limousine.

  “That was a wasted effort,” Qualls said.

  “You never know, Oz said. “You might have shaken them up a little.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be hearing about it tomorrow,” Qualls said. “Go home, Oz. See your pretty little girlfriend.”

  “Yes, sir.” Oz grinned, and headed home to his fiancée.

  #

  Since the attack on Oz by Luka, Micki had been a little more aware of Oz’ physical well-
being. When he was late, she acknowledged a knot of fear in her stomach that released only when she saw his face.

  She’d prepared dinner and sat sipping a glass of white wine. My wifely duties. She grimaced and slugged down the rest of the wine.

  Oz unlocked the door and she placed the glass on the coffee table. Micki glanced at the ring on her hand before being folded into his embrace.

  “Glad you’re home.” She murmured against his shoulder.

  “Glad to be wherever you are.” He gave her a squeeze. “Something smells good.” He lifted his head. “You cooked?”

  “I can cook,” she said. “You know that my mother wouldn’t claim me unless she’d ensured that I could feed you properly.”

  “Let me wash up,” he said. “I feel gritty.”

  Micki lit the candle she’d placed on the coffee table and ladled food onto two plates. “Relax, Oz. You look tired.”

  “Hard day,” he said. “How was yours?”

  “Pretty good, actually. I looked at some computers to replace the one Luka trashed. And I stepped outside my comfort zone by looking into another possible source of business.”