by V. B. Tenery
“He doesn’t need to work too hard. His dad left him well-off. Not a millionaire, but comfortable. The guy has an arsenal, of everything from hand guns and assault rifles to explosives.”
“Why would he want to kill Eden’s parents?” Cole asked.
Russell ran a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “Probably no reason at all. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m just venting my frustration. But I can’t help but believe my in-laws’ deaths are just too convenient for Eden. I liked Art and Kathy, and the boys are going to miss their grandparents. Their deaths put me back to square one in the custody battle.”
Cole turned a page in his notebook. “Where were you last Sunday morning?”
“I’m a suspect? I had no reason to kill them. Quite the contrary.” He looked away, and then shrugged. “I was at home with my fiancée until 10:00 a.m., and then I made my hospital rounds. I had a patient who was critically ill.”
He rose from the corner of the desk and returned to his chair. “I understand that you have to look at everyone as a suspect, but I would never have harmed those two people. They were unbelievably kind to me, considering I was no longer married to their daughter. I hope you find out who did this. For my children’s sake, I hope their mother wasn’t involved.”
Chris stood, and his partner followed suit. He handed the doctor his business card. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Russell. If you think of anything that might help with our investigation, let us know.” He slipped into his overcoat and gloves. “We’ll let you get to your rounds, and we’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.”
Chris shivered as they left and stepped back out into the cold. Not an unusual reaction for anyone in Oklahoma in January.
“What do you think?” Cole asked.
Icy wind seeped through Chris’ coat, and he turned up the collar, pulling it tight around his neck. “I think it’s too early to know what I think.”
“Where to now?” Cole asked.
“The nearest police station,” Chris said.
GPS led them to the closest police department. Chris flipped open his badge case and asked to speak to a detective. After a few minutes, a man of obvious Indian heritage crossed the lobby and introduced himself. “What can I do for you?”
Chris explained why they were in the city and asked if they had any records on Dr. Stephen Russell.
The detective led them back to his cubicle and did a quick search of the state database. “Nothing on our end unfavorable to him.”
“His ex-wife suggested he might have Mafia connections. You know anything about that?” Chris asked.
The detective shook his head and tried to smother a smile. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope, I’m as serious as cancer,” Chris said.
The detective sobered. “I think the wife has an overactive imagination. That’s one problem we don’t have in our fair city. Yet.”
The Texas Heart Institute
Baylor St. Luke’s Medical Center
Houston, Texas
The Southwest flight passed so quickly, Matt felt he’d barely buckled up before the wheels touched down at Houston’s Hobby Airport.
Matt stepped into the brisk morning. Not as bad as Twin Falls, but cold enough. He hailed a taxi outside the terminal and crawled into its warmth. Midmorning traffic clogged city arteries as the cab maneuvered to the medical center and stopped at the entrance. The usual twenty-minute drive had taken twice that long.
The Cooley Center was one of the premier heart-transplant centers in the country. It was here, in May of 1968, that Dr. Denton Cooley and his associates made news around the world by taking the still-beating heart of a fifteen-year-old girl and placing it into a forty-seven-year-old man…the first successful heart transplant in the United States. The patient survived for 204 days after the transplant.
Matt shared the elevator with an older woman and a man, who looked to be her son. Both wore expressions of concern, whether for themselves or a loved one, he had no way of knowing. One of the reasons he avoided hospitals whenever possible. The gloomy aura was as contagious as the flu.
He stepped into a wide hallway and a receptionist directed him to Dr. Davenport’s office. The doctor had agreed to see Matt with the stipulation that he might have to leave in a hurry. He had a patient prepped for surgery. When the harvested heart arrived, he would have to start the operation immediately.
Harvested seemed an odd name for the removal of a human heart. Retrieved sounded more compassionate.
He found the doctor’s office easily and the secretary waved him towards the open doorway. Matt knocked on the jamb, and Dr. Davenport looked up. “Good morning, Chief. Have a seat.” He came from behind the desk and sat in the chair beside Matt. The doctor probably had a great bedside manner.
Expensive modern Swedish furniture filled the large space. Framed pictures of Davenport with various celebrities and politicians covered one wall, including a photograph with former Surgeon General, C. Everett Koop, that held center stage.
Dressed in green scrubs, Alden Davenport bore a remarkable resemblance to his older brother, with fewer wrinkles and less gray hair, slim and of medium height, with the same dark hair and facial features. His warm brown eyes held a deep sadness. “I’m not sure what I can tell you that will help you find whoever killed Kathy and Art, but I’ll do whatever I can.”
“You have no idea who might have held a grudge against your brother and his wife?”
“I’m clueless, Chief. I don’t know anyone who didn’t like them. I assumed it had to be a robbery attempt gone wrong. Was I mistaken?”
“It’s too early to tell. We’re just covering all the bases to get as much background on the victims as possible. How was their relationship with their children?”
“Good, I think. Claire and Taylor were model children. Eden gave Kathy a lot of problems in her grade school years.”
“What kind of problems.”
He paused for a moment, and an expression passed over his face Matt couldn’t identify. “Raging temper tantrums that lasted as long as six hours.” Davenport hesitated a long five-count, and then took a deep breath. “Kathy asked me about it at the time. I’m a heart surgeon, not an analyst, and I suggested she take Eden to a psychologist. The doctor assured Kathy that Eden would grow out of it, which she apparently did. But it was very touch and go for a while. When the rages lasted for hours, Kathy could only bring Eden out of it by sticking her under the shower. Perhaps not what a pediatrician would recommend, but it worked. Would you like some coffee? I’m going to grab a cup while I can.”
Matt nodded, and the doctor asked the receptionist to bring in two cups.
She returned shortly with coffee and sugar and creamer packets.
“What can you tell me about your brother’s work? Would he bring home any sensitive documents in his briefcase?” Matt asked.
“I don’t think Art handled anything sensitive. He had blueprints, but those remained at his office. I can’t believe anyone other than Art would have use for them. There would be no reason for him to take them home. Why do you ask?”
Matt shrugged. “His briefcase was empty, and it appears papers were burned in the fireplace.”
The doctor rubbed a finger across his bottom lip. “That’s strange. I guess you know he planned to testify for his former son-in-law in the custody trial coming up. Could be there was correspondence between them in his attaché. It was general knowledge, and I can’t see why anyone would want to destroy that.”
“It could be your brother was simply cleaning it out, and it has no bearing on the case at all,” Matt said, but he still wondered, why burn the contents? Why not just toss the papers in a trash bin?
“How about his finances or business contacts? Any disgruntled employees or business associates that you know of?” Matt asked.
The surgeon shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. Art was an easygoing guy, and smart enough to avoid those kinds of conflicts.”
The
secretary stuck her head in the door. “The heart’s here, Dr. Davenport.”
The doctor downed the last drop of his coffee, then rose. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll be at the funeral tomorrow afternoon if you have any more questions.”
*****
Matt caught a taxi in front of the hospital, and the driver fought the rush-hour freeway traffic back to Hobby. Unsure how long the interview would last, Matt had purchased an open-ended return ticket, and was forced to wait on standby. While he waited, he again had the feeling a family member was holding something back. Was the family circling the wagons to protect one of their own? And, if so, who and why?
He forced the case to the back of his mind and called Sara. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m waiting on standby in Houston.”
She coughed twice before responding. “Sorry you’ve been delayed. Looks like my fears have come to pass. I have the flu. I took the Tamiflu shot today. Maddie and Don picked up the children to get them off to school tomorrow.”
Maddie was Sara’s legally-blind aunt who had lived with Sara since the death of her parents when she started her senior year of college.
“That’s good. I could have gotten the kids to school, but this will save you having to take care of their baths and tuck them in. Stay in bed. I’ll hurry home as soon as I can catch a flight. I may bribe someone to give up their seat if I don’t get on the next plane.”
The Foley Residence
Twin Falls, Texas
It was after eight p.m. when Matt stepped through the garage entrance to a very quiet house. Even Rowdy greeted him without the usual enthusiasm.
Matt hung his coat in the closet just as his cell phone sounded a text message. It was from Shannon Connelly.
Need a sitter for Sara tomorrow? I’m free for the next four days. She sounded terrible when I called today.
Good. One problem solved. He texted Shannon, Yes, thanks. That done, he mounted the stairs to check on Sara.
The lamp on the nightstand cast a soft glow across the room. No fire in the hearth. Funny, in winter months, Stella usually started a fire before she left. He felt his wife’s brow. Her skin was hot to his touch. From the medicine cabinet downstairs, he emptied two aspirins from the bottle into his palm, then grabbed a bottle of water, and hurried back to the bedroom.
He shook her gently. “Hey, babe, I have some pills for your fever. Can you sit up and take them for me?”
She nodded, swallowed the pills and a couple of sips of water between coughs then slid back under the covers. “So sorry about this, Matt. Our first week back, you have a big murder case to solve, and now you have to take care of me.”
A coughing spasm racked her body. When she caught her breath, she ran trembling fingers through her mussed hair. “I must look a fright.”
He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her fevered brow. “You couldn’t look bad if you tried, Sara Louise. Besides, flu happens. We’ll deal with it. Your job is just to take it easy until this mess works its way out of your system.”
Before going to bed, he brought a glass of white grape juice up and cajoled Sara into drinking most of it. After lighting the logs in the fireplace, he slid into bed. Sara’s skin was still hot, and chills made her shiver. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close.
Illogical as it seemed, he flashed to the bad days with Mary’s illness. He pushed it back. Those days were behind him. Sara just had the flu.
CHAPTER 8
Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
Matt merged onto the eastbound lane on Highway 75, glad he’d rescheduled the detectives’ meeting for an hour later. Before leaving home, he’d waited until Shannon arrived and settled in to take care of Sara, and then headed to the station.
The meeting went quickly, with each team outlining their interviews from yesterday. The finger of guilt seemed to point to Eden Russell, but she had a solid alibi for the night before and morning of the murders. She’d spent the night at Grayson Manor with Jack McKinnon. Double checking that alibi with McKinnon was at the top of his priority list.
“Okay, we’re all set for today. Davis and Turner, you’re interviewing Claire Davenport.” They both nodded. “And Chris, you and Cole are going to check into James Bauer’s background. I will be interviewing his mother, Amy Bauer, this morning.”
Matt stopped in the doorway and glanced back. “Before we head out into the cold, dark world, breakfast is on me at The Sunny Side Up, if anyone is interested.”
Chris Hunter stood and rubbed his hands together with glee. “If you’re buying, I’m eating.”
Home of Amy Bauer
Twin Falls, Texas
The Bauer home sat on the outskirts of Twin Falls, a large, rustic, two-story log structure, with a cattle guard rather than a gated entrance. No animals in sight, but a classic red barn stood about twenty yards from the big house.
The woman who answered the door looked very much like Judith Bittermann, but younger and slimmer. She wore no makeup, her eyes red and swollen. Her gray hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, and she wore jeans, boots, and a red flannel shirt on her slim, almost frail, body.
“Good morning, Chief Foley. I’m not going to have much time. The funeral is at three, and I’m meeting Judith at her place at one.”
“It was kind of you to agree to see me,” Matt said. “This won’t take long.”
She led him into the large living room, filled with heavy, unfinished western furniture, and pointed him to a seat. The acidic smell of tomato sauce hung in the air. Through the kitchen doorway, rows of canning jars contained what appeared to be tomatoes.
“Forgive my appearance. I’m into organic foods, and I’ve been canning all morning. Staying busy helps keep my mind off…”
“My condolences for your loss, Mrs. Bauer; I know this is hard for you,” Matt said. “Do you have any idea who might have killed your sister and brother-in-law?”
“None at all.” Amy Bauer shook her head and looked directly into his eyes. “It wasn’t robbery?”
“It doesn’t appear to be. Only an heirloom diamond pendant and Mrs. Davenport’s engagement ring are missing.”
“Really? The pendant belonged to our mother.” She gave a wistful smile. “Mom left it to Kathy when she died. I always loved that piece. But Mom knew Judith and I seldom wore jewelry.”
“When was the last time you spoke to your sister?”
“We had lunch about a week ago. Kathy was concerned that Eden hadn’t brought the twins by to see them in a while.” She chewed her bottom lip. “You see, Eden and her mother had issues between them, and it wasn’t all Eden’s fault. She spends most holidays here with me and Jim. That’s my son. Well, he isn’t really my son, although I certainly love him like he was my own flesh and blood. His mother died when he was born, and I married his father when Jim was a year old.”
“I understand your son is a hunter,” Matt said.
“Yes, he’s quite the outdoorsman,” she said, “and a great handyman. He can fix anything. He keeps his guns in a storage room in the barn. I have no idea how many weapons that boy has out there. I just don’t want them in the house. My two daughters have small children who visit often.”
“Would it be possible for me to take a look at your son’s gun collection?”
“I don’t have a problem with your looking at them, but I don’t have a key. Jim keeps it on his key chain.”
“Fine, I’ll check with him. He lives here with you?”
A slight hesitation, a glance to the left, then back at him. “Yes.”
Matt left the Bauer residence and drove slowly back to the station, using the alone time to step back and look at the evidence his team had gathered. One thing stood out. He’d left Amy Bauer, having a definite picture of her son, and he didn’t like what he saw.
Lone Star Bails and Process Servers
Twin Falls, Texas
The funeral forced Davis to reschedule the interview with Claire Davenport. He and Tu
rner fell back on plan B, checking out Jim Bauer’s alibi, and Eden Russell’s neighbors. Since she would be away from her condo, they were free to talk to the other residents, undetected.
Chris and Cole were running a background check on Bauer. They also planned to ask questions of his peers in and around the courthouse. Gossip might offer some insight into Bauer’s character.
Earl Locke’s bail bond office sat conveniently a half-block from the city jail. He’d agreed to see them at the office at eleven. Davis and his partner parked in the courthouse parking lot and walked the short distance to Locke’s place of business.
A buzzer sounded when Davis opened the door. A pretty blonde dressed in jeans and a red sweater looked up. “Good morning. May I help you?”
The office wasn’t fancy or aesthetically pleasing, but it didn’t need to be. Bail bond customers weren’t usually the country club set. Tan sheetrock walls were clean, and four framed black-and-white pictures of local scenes were mounted above the reception desk. A fake rubber plant sat next to the picture window that looked out at the courthouse.
“We’re here to see Mr. Locke. I’m Detective Davis.” He waved a hand in Lucy’s direction. “And this is Detective Turner. Mr. Locke is expecting us.”
Ponytail bouncing, the receptionist came from behind the counter and led them down a short hall to a door on the right. She knocked and stuck her head into the office. “Earl, your eleven o’clock appointment is here.”
“Thanks, Bree. Show them in.”
She stepped aside and motioned them into the small room.
Locke stood and shook hands. He was of medium height and muscular, with the short neck of a body-builder. He wore khakis, a light-blue turtleneck, and a navy blazer. A photo of an attractive brunette and two little girls sat on a credenza behind his desk. He motioned them to two chairs and returned to his desk. “How may I help you folks?”