My Private Detective

by Rebecca Winters

  “What was she like socially?”

  “Amy was reserved, but she wasn’t a complete loner.”

  “Mrs. Lowell,” Gideon interjected, “did you ever give her a set of six pocket-size diaries, suggesting she use them to record her private thoughts?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because the police found six diaries of hers, which the prosecution leaned on heavily in order to put her sister in prison. The first diary dates back to the year you were teaching at Las Palmas. The beginning paragraph states that Mrs. Winegar, her English teacher, gave her the diary she was writing in.”

  “Mrs. Winegar—”

  “Does that name ring a bell?”

  “Yes! Just a minute.”

  Carrying the baby, she hurried out of the room and returned a moment later. On her left hand she wore a large puppet of a very prim-looking Victorian spinster.

  “This is Mrs. Winegar. She knows her grammar. When she hears one of the students make a mistake in class like ‘Lay down,’ she breaks in and says, ‘You lay an egg, but you lie down.’”

  Heidi and Gideon made eye contact. He got to his feet.

  “I’m investigating this case on behalf of Dana Turner, Amy’s sister. Dana’s attorney, John Cobb, will be getting in touch with you to take a deposition. He might even decide to put you on the witness stand when this case goes to court again. Would you agree to that?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Lowell. You’ve been more helpful than you know. We’ll let ourselves out.”

  Gideon placed his arm around Heidi’s shoulders as they walked to the car. “Remember that blank picture?” She nodded. “Between Mr. Finch and Mrs. Lowell, all the ones and twos have been filled in. Now we’re going to work on the threes. We’ve still got an hour before we have to meet with Dana’s parents. That gives us enough time to run by headquarters.”

  “What are we going to do there?”

  “I’ll show you.” He opened the back door to retrieve the photocopy of the first diary. When Heidi had secured her seat belt, he handed it to her.

  “Look on the inside front cover page. What do you see?” Closing the door, he went around to his side to get behind the wheel. She glanced over at him with a puzzled expression.

  “It says Millward Paper Products. Los Angeles, California. I don’t see wha— Oh!” she interrupted herself.

  “You want to find out if this diary was even on the market seven years ago!”

  After he’d merged with the traffic, he smiled at her. “You’re a natural at this.”

  “Hardly,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I wouldn’t have thought of it in a million years, without your hint. Thank heaven for a detective like you who can see what other people can’t.”

  Gideon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “For Dana’s sake, let’s hope that’s true. However, I don’t think we should count on too much where the diaries are concerned.

  “It would be nice to establish that they weren’t available for purchase seven years ago, but it’s entirely possible that particular line has been around for a decades.” When he heard her sigh, he said, “Don’t worry. A good handwriting expert can tell us a lot. And the forensics department has methods of identifying the age of paper and ink.”

  She nodded. After a minute she murmured, “The puppet obviously captured Amy’s imagination.”

  “Amy may have had low SAT scores, but it didn’t mean her mind wasn’t razor-sharp. That’s often the case with suspects who have a dark side to their natures. Like I said earlier, she managed to weave enough truth among her lies to put a lethal weapon in Ron Jenke’s hands.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “Yes. He and I have been in the courtroom together many times.”

  “How do you think he’ll react when he finds out Dana’s case is going to be reopened?”

  “Unless I’ve got critical evidence, he’ll fight to prevent it.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “He has a reputation to protect.”

  “But we’re talking about Dana’s life! If she was his client—”

  “None of it matters, Heidi. Once our evidence is lined up, there won’t be anything Jenke can do to stop us.”

  He could feel her eyes on him. “You really believe she committed suicide?”

  “What better way to go out of this life and make certain her nemesis would suffer? Amy could have hidden her diaries anywhere, but she purposely put them in Dana’s closet before setting fire to her own bedroom. Amy knew those words would condemn Dana. She had to ensure they weren’t destroyed.”

  “But to set her own room on fire, knowing she’d die… Where was her will to live?”

  “Probably diminished by drugs, although I have no actual proof of that yet. When Dana was telling me about their physical fight, she said Amy had incredible strength. Enough to pull her to the floor and beat her.”

  Heidi groaned quietly, as though this was too painful to bear.

  “If you’ve ever watched someone high on hallucinogens, you’d see a person whose world is totally distorted. There was a case last month of a college student who took some LSD and thought a monster had come into his hotel room.

  “According to witnesses, he tried to push it out the window, which was sealed shut. So he broke the glass with his bare hands and fell twenty stories to his death.”

  “I remember hearing about that on the news. It was awful.”

  “The point is, Amy may have planned the whole scenario, but it probably took drugs to help her act on it.”

  “How could we find out? I’m afraid her friends would never tell us.”

  “They might if they realized the case was going back to court and they could be named accessories to a murder.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. “Do you think it’s possible they knew what Amy was planning and lied for her on the witness stand?”

  “The thought’s crossed my mind. If they were a party to any of it, we’re sure as hell going to find out!”

  Before long they’d arrived back at headquarters. “Come on. I’ll take you down to the archives to see the diaries.”

  “I’ve never been here before. It’s kind of scary, but exciting, too.”

  He smiled. “Kevin said the same thing the first time I brought him with me. Have no fear. This place has been my home away from home for years now.”

  Once they got out of the car in the underground parking, he took her hand and held on tightly. It was important she see where he worked. He wanted her to know everything about him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “YOU TWO CAN USE cubicle D.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  Gideon ushered Heidi into the little room. She stared in horror at the innocent-looking pile of books he put on the table. It took a minute before she could find the courage to examine them.

  “What?” he demanded when she shook her head.

  “Amy used every conceivable color of ink to fill these volumes.” She lifted her head to gaze at him.

  “Thank God you thought to have photocopies made first,” she said. “In black and white it was easy to see the uniformity of her writing. But with all these colors, I doubt I would even have noticed.”

  “That’s what Amy was counting on. In fact, she was so clever, not even Cobb’s expert witness caught it.” He caressed her cheek with his index finger. “When Dana’s free, she’ll have you to thank for it.”

  Heidi’s eyes filled. “None of this would be possible without you,” she whispered.

  His chest rose and fell visibly. “I only hope my theory’s correct. I don’t like the idea of Dana spending time behind bars any more than you do. Now, let’s check out this paper company.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and rang information, requesting the number of Millward Paper Products in Los Angeles. He wrote down a number and punched it in, but then was put on hold several times. W
hen he could finally make an inquiry about the diary, she found herself holding her breath.

  Reaching for one of the volumes, he read aloud the design number from the inside cover. Eventually she heard him ask the person on the other end if he or she would testify to that in a court of law. Her blood pounded in her ears.

  Unable to remain seated any longer, she jumped to her feet. Her action caught Gideon’s attention. His blue eyes seemed to come alive as he turned off the phone.

  “You can start filling in all the threes in our picture.” He stood up and gathered the diaries from the table. “This happens to be a new line of diaries put out on the market a year ago February for a Valentine’s Day promotion.”

  “Gideon…”

  His mouth formed a half smile. “This brings us a little closer to establishing my premise that every move on Amy’s part was premeditated. When our picture’s complete, we’ll be ready to sit down with Mr. Cobb.

  “Let’s go.” He opened the door for her. “I’m anxious to meet with the Turners and walk around the crime scene.”

  “I can’t wait for them to meet you! Next to my parents, they’re my favorite people. To be honest, I don’t know how they’ve survived this long. Since Amy’s death, life for them has turned into the ultimate endurance test.”

  “I imagine their need to help and support Dana is what keeps them going,” he said.

  Heidi nodded vigorously. “Yes. And what you’re doing will make such a difference to them.”

  She paused. “The only thing I’ve told them is that you’ve begun another investigation of the case on behalf of my parents and me. When they hear what you have to say, it’s going to transform their world.”

  TRANSFORM THEIR WORLD

  During the drive to Mission Bay, those words went around Gideon’s head like a mantra. Heidi’s faith in him was humbling. More than ever he wanted to be all things to her. His determination to effect Dana’s release had become his number-one priority.

  A half hour later Heidi pointed out her parents’ house next door as they entered the Turners’ driveway. She introduced him to Dana’s mother and father. They greeted Heidi like family and welcomed him with genuine graciousness. Yet they looked and acted like war victims still in shock. Who could blame them?

  Mrs. Turner dispensed with formality and insisted Gideon call them Christine and Ed. She seemed intent on serving them lunch first. That was just as well, because it gave him the opportunity to find out what charming, intelligent people they were.

  Dana’s mother taught English literature at the state university; her husband was a renowned astronomer. The two of them were well suited and seemed devoted to each other.

  Lunch was served in the dining room of their spacious home. Large picture windows stretching across the back of the house faced the bay, offering a breathtaking view of the water. Gideon wished he didn’t have life-and-death matters on his mind so he could appreciate it better.

  After finishing his dessert, he decided to plunge in with his theory. No point in leading up to it gently, he felt—best to simply state it and go on from there. From the beginning the Turners had believed in Dana’s innocence—but they were still under the illusion that Amy’s killer was out there somewhere.

  What he had to tell them was going to hurt them in ways they hadn’t imagined. However, if it meant Dana could be restored to them, he was sure their joy in getting her back would overshadow that pain.

  “Quite a bit has happened since Heidi first came to my criminology class. For one thing, I’m convinced Dana is innocent of any wrongdoing. But I’m just as convinced that no one murdered Amy.”

  Their heads lifted a little higher in surprise.

  “It’s my belief she planned her own suicide to make it appear that Dana murdered her,” he said bluntly.

  “Suicide!” Christine gasped. Her husband shot Gideon a look of disbelief.

  “This morning Heidi and I spoke with two of Amy’s teachers from seventh grade. Both corroborated my belief that your daughter was a troubled girl even back then.

  “I have no idea how long she thought about taking her own life. Maybe it was months, maybe years. We do know the diaries reveal a pathological jealousy of Dana. We also know something else about the diaries, thanks to Heidi.”

  He turned his head in her direction. “You tell them.”

  For the next few minutes, Heidi explained what they’d discovered from looking at the photocopies. Then she told them what the manufacturer had said about the date the diaries were put on the market.

  “So you see, those diaries aren’t the real thing. Amy couldn’t have written in them before Valentine’s Day of last year, because that design didn’t exist.

  “She made up lie after lie, knowing full well she wouldn’t be around for anyone to question what she wrote. To make sure the police found them, she hid all six volumes in Dana’s closet. Amy must’ve figured that would cast even more suspicion on her sister, who had no knowledge of the diaries’ existence.”

  After a long silence Christine said, “I’d never seen her with a diary.” Tears ran down her face. “Our daughter was so sick, Ed.”

  “If I can interject…” Gideon spoke up. “When I went to the prison, something Dana told me about Amy’s strength the night of her death led me to believe she might have been on drugs. They could have helped her cross the line into irrational behavior.”

  Christine shook her head. “I wasn’t aware she took drugs. Did you ever suspect?” she asked her husband.

  “No. But I was never comfortable with the kind of company she kept.”

  “Neither was I. Those two friends of hers weren’t like normal girls. Not happy and bright.”

  Gideon sat back in his chair. “I intend to get the information I need out of them. But I also want the best coroner I know to perform an autopsy on Amy.”

  Heidi stared at him. “There wasn’t one?” she asked incredulously.

  “No.” He looked at the Turners. “One of the reasons I’m here today is to obtain your permission for her body to be exhumed.”

  A cry burst out of Christine and she buried her face in her hands. Ed went over to comfort his wife.

  “I know how grim that sounds,” Gideon commiserated. “Dana told me none of you wanted to have it done, but I believe it’s necessary in order to get at the truth. The coroner’s report said she died from smoke inhalation. That was determined as a result of a postmortem blood test, which revealed toxic levels of carbon monoxide.

  “That, plus the physical evidence of a struggle, gave Jenke his ironclad case. And then he went to trial armed with those diaries. Not surprisingly the jury bought his arguments.

  “But I’ve investigated many arson murders. After an autopsy’s been performed, you’d be surprised how often it’s discovered that death was attributable to another cause.”

  Dr. Turner’s face was drawn. “Neither the police nor the coroner insisted on it, since cause of death seemed so clear-cut. John Cobb urged us to have it done, but it didn’t seem right at the time.”

  “Unfortunately smoke inhalation is a great masker of truth,” Gideon continued. “Only an autopsy will reveal secrets—if there are any.”

  Christine wiped her eyes. “So what you’re saying is, it’s possible she might have died from an overdose of drugs before the smoke got to her.”

  “That’s right.”

  Dr. Turner straightened. “You make a lot of sense, Gideon. But if Amy was on drugs that night, would there still be traces in her body after almost a year?”

  “That depends on several factors.”

  “Like what?” Christine whispered.

  “How well she was embalmed—the condition of her grave.”

  Just hearing the words made the older woman groan.

  “Not every drug will necessarily show up. But even if I’m wrong about drugs, maybe an autopsy will yield other information of which we’re not aware.”

  She stared at her husband through her tears. “
We have to do it for Dana’s sake!”

  “I agree, honey.”

  Relief swept over Gideon. “Good. Where’s she buried?”

  “Mount Hope City Cemetery.”

  “I’ll get an exhumation order through the police department before the day is out. Now…there’s something else.

  “I’m not a psychiatrist, but I’m sure if we consulted one, he or she would come up with some medical term that would apply to Amy’s mental problems. Sometime this week I’d like to talk to the person you sent her to for counseling in seventh grade.”

  “I remember,” Christine said. “It was the Bay Shore adolescent psychiatric unit. Dr. Siricca.”

  “Would you mind calling to find out if that doctor’s still there?”

  “I’ll do it right now.”

  As she hurried from the room, Ed said, “I know you wanted to view the crime scene. Let me show you where the bedrooms are. Amy’s room is between ours and Dana’s. Of course, it’s been remodeled.”

  Gideon and Heidi both rose from the table. With his arm around her shoulders, they followed Dr. Turner through the hallway to the other side of the house. Amy’s room was a nice size. Sunny. Very feminine.

  “The night she died Christine and I had been to a faculty dinner. On our return, we opened the front door and smelled smoke. We discovered it coming from this bedroom. We later learned that all the smoke alarms had been disabled.” He paused, eyes lowered.

  “When we opened the door,” he continued, “the smoke was overpowering. Amy lay facedown near the door. The far wall, the bed and the floor around it were on fire.

  “We dragged her into the hall, then I picked her up and carried her outside. Christine called the fire department. They were here within a couple of minutes, but it was too late for our Amy.”

  Heidi left Gideon’s side to comfort Dr. Turner. While the older man wept, Gideon walked down the hall to get a look at Dana’s bedroom.

  If the Turners hadn’t arrived home when they did, this end of the house would have been engulfed in flames, destroying the diaries. Amy had clearly planned everything down to the last detail.