by M. Z. Kelly
Bronson shot daggers at me. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It could be that she’s living out a fantasy or looking for closure for something that happened in her past.”
“Like what?”
I was irritated and made no effort to hide it. “When we know that, we’ll be a lot closer to solving the case.”
“We need progress, not idle conjecture.” He looked at Miles. “Maybe we need other staff on this.”
Miles shook her head. “I’m satisfied with the staff assigned to the cases.” She looked at Olivia. “Let’s get the CCTV footage from Highpoint out to the public. Maybe we’ll catch a break.” She shuffled the paperwork in front of her. “Let’s move on to the Peters case.”
Olivia took a few minutes, updating them on both murders and our discussion with Margaret Ellis. “Her son Jackson is using the name Lazarus. She describes him as brilliant but deranged, and very manipulative. He and his followers are supposedly staying at a compound somewhere. We’re actively looking for leads in that regard.”
“And Dunbar?” Bronson asked.
“He was with business associates and his wife when both murders occurred. The alibis don’t rule him out as a suspect, since there’s always the possibility he hired someone to do the killings, but, if that’s the case, it doesn’t explain the murder of Marilyn Peters.”
“Maybe Marilyn knew he killed Mel and she became a liability.”
“That’s possible, but...”
“Molly and I have something that we just pulled together this morning,” Jenny said.
Olivia raised her brows. “Let’s hear it.”
Jenny had worn a short blue skirt this morning. On our way into the meeting, our attractive crime analyst had garnered more than a few admiring glances from officers working in the building.
“We were able to get the financial records on both Mel and her sister,” Jenny said. “There were several withdrawals from Marilyn’s accounts in the weeks before her death, including a 401(k) account that was emptied and closed.”
“She was basically broke,” Molly confirmed.
“How much money are we talking about?” Bronson asked.
“Over fifteen thousand dollars, all of it taken as cash.”
Leo spoke up. “Ellis’s mother said that her son uses people, either as followers or for their money. It might be that he and Marilyn were in a relationship, and he was taking her for everything she had.”
“What about Mel’s finances?” Olivia asked Jenny.
“There were a lot of withdrawals from her accounts as well, in the neighborhood of five thousand dollars. She also wrote a couple of checks to Marilyn.”
“Covering her sister’s debts to Ellis,” Bronson said. “He has to be our guy.”
“Molly and I have an address for Mel and Marilyn’s parents in case you want to talk to them, see what they might know,” Jenny told Olivia.
“We’ll make that our priority today,” Olivia told her.
“It sounds like we’re making progress,” Miles said. “Let’s follow up with the parents, see if we can locate Ellis, and take things from there.”
“And Wonderland?” Bronson said. “I’m still not satisfied with the progress.”
“Let’s get the latest security footage sent out through Media Relations and make another plea for the public’s help.” Chief Miles looked at me. “I think you’re onto something about our suspect trying to deal with something from her past. You might want to get with psych services, run what we have past them, and see if they have any ideas.”
***
On the way to the car after the meeting, I told Olivia, “Our deputy chief isn’t very supportive of his staff.”
“It’s just his personality. He’s generally not happy with anyone.”
“Maybe, but it might have something to do with me.”
We stopped for a moment to let Bernie sniff some flowers as the others went ahead of us. Olivia asked me to explain what I meant.
“You once told me that Bronson didn’t want my adoptive father’s case reopened. He probably blames me for the department agreeing to take another look at it. It just feels to me like his lack of support might be personal.”
Olivia shrugged. “It’s possible, but if that’s the case, it’s his problem. We’re going to work the cases as we see fit, regardless of Bronson’s take on things. And, don’t forget, we have Chief Miles’ support.”
When we got to our cars, we got the address for Mel and Marilyn Peters’ parents from Molly. They lived in Summerland, a small community overlooking the ocean near Santa Barbara. Olivia asked Darby and Woody to go back to the station and work with Media Relations on releasing the Highpoint security camera footage. Darby took exception to the assignment.
“Why is it that me and Horton always get the grunt work?” he asked the lieutenant.
She smiled and looked at Woody. “Is that how you feel?”
The youthful detective shrugged. “I don’t have a problem working with Media Relations.” He said to Darby, “If you want to go with them, I’ll handle things here.”
After Darby lodged a protest about not feeling supported, Olivia relented and said he could come with us. We then stopped by Hollywood Station, where we dropped Jenny and Molly off before leaving for Summerland. We took two cars because of Bernie, with Leo taking a bullet for us and volunteering to go with Darby.
As she drove, Olivia mentioned that she was worried about Sherry Miles. “Her formal appointment as police chief goes before the city council next week. I’m afraid if Mayor Weber doesn’t support her, she could be out of a job before she begins.”
“Do you really think Weber won’t support her?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that I’ve heard rumors that he’s waffling. I think it would be a big help if we solved our cases.”
“It sounds like Jackson Ellis is becoming our prime suspect. Maybe our victims’ parents will help out.”
Olivia agreed with what I said before our discussion turned personal. “How did things go between you and Joe last night at dinner?”
“We went to The Edmon, so it was nice, except for the fact that Joe told me the Rylands have gone to ground and there’s no word on Pearl.”
“Somethings got to break soon. Every law enforcement agency in the world is after the Rylands.” She glanced at me. “Have you seen your mom since...since Harlee’s visit?”
I shook my head. “I’m still avoiding her.”
“I can relate. I haven’t seen my mom in...let’s see...” She paused, mentally doing the math. “I just realized it’s been over two decades now.”
“Do you ever think about contacting her?”
“I think about it, then I remember how she was never there for me or my sister. They say forgiveness is divine, but the murder of your sibling at the hands of your father, with your mother’s silent acquiescence, is something I just can’t get past.”
“I understand.” I felt Olivia’s tension as we rode in silence for a couple minutes. I then mentioned my adoptive dad’s offshore account just to move the conversation in a different direction. “My friend Natalie recently found out there was a small amount of currency from Singapore found with the account numbers. Joe’s working with some FBI experts to see if the account might be in that country.”
Olivia chuckled. “Maybe you’re filthy rich and just don’t know it.”
“Maybe, but it’s probably drug money, so I’m not sure what to do with it if there is any money. There would also be the issue of sharing it with my siblings and mother, and I’m not sure my mother is deserving of anything.”
We got to Summerland just before noon. As we pulled off the freeway, Olivia said, “I heard Oprah has a little place just up the road.”
“I’d say we stop in for lunch, but I heard she’s on a diet.”
“Some things never change.”
Ron and Barbara Peters’ Victorian home was on a hill overlooking the ocean. As we rang the bel
l, it reminded me of a doll house I had as a child, complete with ornate trim and a high-pitched roof.
Barbara Peters came to the door, where we made introductions. Her even features and dark skin reminded me of Mel, even though she had short, silver hair. She led us into a great room, where we met her husband. The couple appeared to be in their sixties and were gracious, offering us refreshments. I couldn’t imagine the grief they were enduring, having lost their only two children.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us,” Olivia said, after Ron complimented Bernie to me and we took seats. “We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
“It’s no bother,” Ron said, brushing the sparse gray hair off his forehead. “We just want to catch whoever was responsible.” He cut his glassy blue eyes to his wife, and I saw that she was doing her best to remain in control.
“Can you tell us when you last saw your daughters?”
“They both came home for our anniversary,” Barbara said, dabbing at her eyes. “It was about a month ago. We went to dinner at the Bella Vista, just up the road.”
“Did either of them give you any indication they were having problems with anyone?”
We got head shakes before Ron mentioned Darby. “She said you two were partners at one time. She spoke highly of you.”
Darby’s pudgy face reddened. “I appreciate you saying that. We all miss your daughter a great deal.”
Olivia continued. “There is a man we’re looking into whom we believe may have had some contact with your daughters. His name is Jackson Ellis.”
“Never heard of him,” Barbara said, looking at her husband.
Ron’s gaze moved off and he exhaled, but didn’t respond.
“What is it?” Olivia asked him.
He took a moment before looking at Olivia. “Lazarus.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
Ron looked at his wife. “He’s that guy who came by here with Marilyn, just before the anniversary party.”
“Did you say his name was Jackson?” his wife asked Olivia.
“Yes. Jackson Ellis.”
She looked at her husband. “Who is Lazarus?”
“It’s a name he goes by with his followers.”
Barbara looked back at Olivia. “I don’t know anything about followers, but he was a dear. Very handsome, too. I was hoping he and Marilyn might eventually become more than just friends.”
“He’s an asshole,” Ron said, his face hardening.
His wife seemed genuinely shocked by what he said. “Why do you say that?”
Ron looked at Olivia and sighed. “He came by here a couple of days later, after Mel and Marilyn had gone back to Los Angeles. He wanted me to give him money.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” Barbara asked him.
“At the time, I just thought he was someone looking for a handout.” He looked at Olivia. “Do you think he could have been involved in what happened?”
“We’re not sure. Tell us about him coming by.”
“The guy just knocked on the door one afternoon and asked me if I remembered him. I let him inside and got him a drink, just trying to be friendly. He told me he was between jobs and asked if I could loan him a few hundred dollars. I did my best to politely refuse, but he got angry and slammed the door when he left.”
Olivia glanced at me, raising a brow. She looked back at Ron. “Do you know if Marilyn might have been in a relationship with him?”
“I don’t think so. I remember talking to her on the phone a few days later and mentioning what happened. She said that Jack, as she called him, was having some financial issues, but they were being handled.”
“You told us that he used the name Lazarus,” Darby said. “How did you know that?”
“When he came by he was spouting some nonsense about that being his real name. He said he was chosen to help people and needed the money to feed his followers. I figured he was just some kind of religious nut.”
“Did Marilyn say anything else about him?” Olivia asked. She got a head shake. “What about Mel? Did she ever mention him?” Another head shake.
I’d studied Ron Peters as he spoke to Olivia and thought he was holding something back. “He threatened you, didn’t he?”
Ron’s blue eyes fixed on me, but he remained silent.
“Please,” I said. “You need to tell us everything that happened so we can find justice for your daughters.”
Ron’s blue eyes filled with tears, and his words were choked. “He called me the day after he came by and threatened me. I gave him a couple thousand dollars...but...he said he wanted more.” Peters looked at his wife, then back at me. “He said if I didn’t keep making payments, he would kill us.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
We spent another hour at the Peters’ home, telling Ron and Barbara that we thought both their daughters may have also given Jackson Ellis money. It became clear to us that Ron was deathly afraid of Ellis, who had promised to leave him and his wife unharmed only if he continued to give him money and keep quiet about it. The payments had been made weekly, Peters agreeing to drop cash in various locations around town at the direction of one of Ellis’s followers.
When we were back at the station, Olivia pulled Section One staff together. After summarizing what we’d learned, Darby gave us his opinion. “You ask me, Ron Peters was holding back on us. I’m willing to bet Ellis also threatened to harm his daughters if he didn’t pay up. Why else would he continue to make the payoffs?”
“You might be right,” Olivia agreed. “We know that Marilyn had essentially emptied her bank accounts, probably giving the money to Ellis. Mel had also been contributing.”
“It was an extortion racket. When the money ran out, or Mel objected to the arrangements, it cost her and then Marilyn their lives.”
“It’s becoming increasingly clear that Jackson Ellis is our prime suspect. We need to find the compound where he’s staying.”
“Molly and I can try and find some past members of the Society,” Jenny suggested. “Maybe there’s someone who had a falling out with Ellis and can give us a lead.”
Olivia nodded. “Let us know what you turn up.” She looked at me. “You might also ask Mo if she’s heard anything on the streets about the group.”
“I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“Let’s move on to Wonderland for a moment,” Olivia said. She looked at Woody. “Did Media Relations get the security footage out to the press?”
“It should be on the news tonight.” Woody massaged his brow as he added, “I found out something interesting about the house on Wonderland.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Since we’ve got no other leads, I decided to run a title search on the property. The home was owned by a Bruce and Marianne Robinson at one time. Bruce Robinson died in the home under suspicious circumstances in 1998. He was found shot to death in the family room. His wife, Marianne, said she wasn’t home at the time, but she didn’t have a solid alibi for when the crime occurred. The investigation revealed the couple was having marital problems and she was considered the prime suspect. She claimed her husband was shot by an intruder, and lawyered up. The case has remained open-unsolved all these years.”
“So, what does that have to do with our current investigation?” Darby asked.
“I’m not sure it has anything to do with it. I’m just stating facts. It’s a bit unusual for a prior unsolved murder to have occurred on the same property.”
“What about other family members?” Olivia asked. “Was anyone else present when the crime occurred?”
“The closed case reports indicate the couple had two daughters...” Woody checked the reports in front of him. “Elizabeth and Haley—twins. They were staying with their aunt and uncle when their father was killed.”
“Any criminal record on the girls over the intervening years?”
Woody shook his head. “There’s nothing in the system.”
“You’r
e chasing a cold case that has nothing to do with the current crimes,” Darby said.
Woody rolled his eyes, but kept quiet.
I moved the discussion in a new direction, telling the group that, at Chief Miles’ request, I’d followed up with the department’s Psychological Services Division. “The psychologist I talked to said our suspect is probably acting out some past trauma, as we’ve already speculated. She may be suffering from a dissociative personality disorder. There’s probably been some triggering mechanism that’s causing her to act.”
“Psychobabble at its finest,” Darby said. “Doesn’t help us a bit.”
Olivia exhaled, her irritation with Darby evident. “It’s probably worth keeping in mind. Let’s keep digging. I have a feeling that, whatever her motive is, our suspect isn’t finished.”
As we were leaving Olivia’s office, I mentioned to Darby what Ron Peters had said about Mel having nice things to say about him. “It sounds like you made a positive impression on her.”
He gathered up his paperwork. “Yeah, well maybe. You know how it goes with partners. We had our share of good times.”
I spent the rest of the afternoon at my desk. I did some research on Lazarus and the Society on the Internet, but didn’t come up with anything worthwhile. I was about to call it a day when Joe called.
“Bingo,” he said when I answered.
I chuckled. “What does that mean?”
“Singapore. The numbers crunchers traced your father’s offshore account to the Bank of Jurong, just east of the capital. The account was closed out a couple years ago.”
“Closed out by whom?”
I heard him exhale. “This is where things get a little strange. It seems the account had about ten million dollars in it when it was emptied.”
I felt my pulse quicken as I again asked him, “So, who closed it?”
“A man who claimed he was John Sexton’s only surviving heir.”
My heart was now racing. “I don’t understand.”
Joe’s deep voice grew softer. “I’m afraid there’s no easy way to say this, Kate. A man claiming he was the only surviving relative of your father closed the account and took all the money. If it’s true, it means your adoptive father had a son. His name is Daniel.”