Bullet Beth (George Hastings police procedural)

by James Patrick Hunt

  “Oh, let’s see…I was there for a few days between Christmas and New Year’s, though I was back here for New Year’s. And I did go for a weekend in February.…Er, don’t go much during the winter. And in fact, I didn’t go there much last summer because I started teaching classes during the summers too.”

  “Oh. Do you loan the house out to any friends?”

  “No. That causes problems.”

  “Do you rent it to people?”

  “No. I inherited the house from my husband. I didn’t get rich teaching dance, I assure you. My husband had money and my family had some and that’s how I can afford the house.”

  “I see.”

  “What did you say the man’s name was again?”

  “Johnny Rodgers.”

  “And he was a hairdresser?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was he doing down there?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  “Wow. A murder investigation. I’ve never been involved in anything like this before.”

  “As you can see, it’s not that exciting.”

  “Oh, no. It seems very exciting. Oh, I’m sorry.” She placed a hand on his arm. “A man did die, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. But —”

  “And you’re a detective?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She appraised him. Very openly, in fact. Christ, looking him up and down. Hastings thought he might be imagining things, but then she said, “You’re quite handsome too.”

  “Ah—”

  She laughed. “You’re blushing. You silly man. Don’t you like flirting?”

  “Well…not on duty.”

  “Are you married?”

  “No. I’m divorced.”

  “Well. We should have coffee sometime.”

  Christ.

  “Yeah, perhaps…I’m very busy these days —”

  “Oh, don’t be nervous. I’m harmless.” Smiling at him now. “Do you have any more questions for me?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Well I have another class coming in.” She took a card of her sweater pocket and handed it to him. “But call me sometime. You give me a chance, you might like me.”

  His next visit was to Jack Belmont. The last name on his list of homeowners on the lake.

  Jack Belmont owned a real estate development company. His offices were in a high rise building in Clayton. His receptionist was very young and very pretty. Hastings showed her his identification.

  Jack Belmont came out about five minutes later. He was a tall man in his early sixties. Hastings guessed that he had a facelift and a hair transplant.

  Hastings thanked him for his time and went through the questions. Belmont said he had never heard of Johnny Rodgers.

  Hastings asked, “The records indicate that your wife also owns the house on the lake.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Her name is Sara Belmont, I believe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would she know him?”

  “I don’t know,” Belmont said. “I’ve never heard her discuss anyone by that name.”

  “Johnny Rodgers was a hairdresser. Does your wife her hair done?”

  “Don’t they all?”

  “Where does she have it done?”

  “Oh, God. How should I know? I think it’s a place in Webster Groves. In fact, I know it is because I dropped off there a couple of times.”

  “Where is it?”

  “On McKnight Road, near the intersection of Elm. Did your — did this Mr. Rodgers work there?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then,” Belmont said. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes. Do you have any friends or relatives who have access to your lake house?”

  “Access? No, I don’t believe so.”

  Hastings stared at him for a moment.

  “Are you sure?” Hastings asked. “It’s very important.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. The only ones with keys to the lake house are my wife and I.”

  “Do you have children?”

  “Yes, but they’re grown. And we haven’t given them a key.” Belmont smiled. “You know how kids can tear things up. Parties and whatnot.”

  “Sure.” Hastings said, “This is just a formality, but can you account for your whereabouts that night?”

  Belmont seemed unruffled. He said, “I’m sure I can.” He looked at his calendar. Then he said, “Yes. Sara and I were at the ballet that night.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Dracula.”

  “That’s a ballet?”

  “Apparently,” Belmont said. “My wife enjoyed it more than I did.”

  “Okay. Well, I guess that’s it.” Hastings stood and shook Belmont’s hand. “Thank you for your time.”

  In his car, he called Klosterman and summarized the interviews, giving him the salient points.

  Klosterman said, “You got hit on by a sixty year old woman?”

  “Joe, she was pretty attractive.”

  “What?”

  “She had a nice figure. Very nice.”

  “You’re not actually going to call her, are you?”

  “Well…”

  “Oh good God.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe when the case is closed.”

  “I don’t believe this. How long has it been since you had the pipes cleaned?”

  “Look, if you’d seen her —”

  “Wait a minute. What was her name again?”

  “Joan Adelson.”

  “And she owns a dance studio?”

  “Yeah. In the Central West End.”

  “On Newstead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know, I think Anne knows her. Our daughter used to take dance there. In fact, I think Anne took lessons from her when she was a kid.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

  “No, I’m serious. If this is the lady I’m thinking about, she’s got a reputation for going after younger men. Younger than you.”

  “Well then she must be doing something right.”

  “All right, Casanova. Listen, I’m about to go off duty. You need anything else? I mean, besides a torrid love affair with Jessica Tandy.”

  “No, I’m good. Did Murph get those phone records?”

  “I don’t think so. He should by tomorrow, though.”

  “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Hastings got off the phone and thought, Jessica Tandy? Was she in Tootsie? Well, that would be pretty good. But later he figured out it was the lady from Driving Miss Daisy.

  A couple of hours after he got home, Eileen called and told him they would be home tomorrow. She said, “I’m just letting you know. Our flight is supposed to be around eight o’clock, but the way things are now it might be two in the morning. Do you mind if we bring Amy by the next day?”

  “No, that should work.”

  “Okay.” A pause. “You doing okay, George?”

  “I’m all right. It’s been a long week. And I’ve missed Amy.”

  “She missed you too. I’d put her on the phone but she’s asleep. She had a great time. Well…”

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “Probably the day after tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Okay. Take care.”

  Hastings hung up the phone. He knew why Eileen had paused. The last time they had talked they had fought about whether or not Amy would go to private school. She didn’t want to argue about it over the phone. He and Eileen were friends now. Maybe even good friends. Most of the resentments had faded, but there were still disagreements. Eileen had asked him if was doing okay and that was about as close to an apology as he was going to get. But the issue was not resolved.

  His home was very quiet.

  When he was married to Eileen, he would talk to her about his work. Not the grisly details, but the office politics and the funny incidents that are a staple of police work. She was appreciative of a good story. If t
hey were still married, he would have told her about the lawsuit. About Ryan Bradbury and about this lawyer Henry Brummell. He believed that she would like Brummell too.

  Hastings checked his watch. About a quarter to ten. He called Terry McGregor.

  He said, “I’m sorry, it’s not too late, is it?”

  “No, not at all. How are you?”

  “I’m okay, considering. Did Chet get back?”

  “Yes. He’s asleep now. Exhausted from his trip.”

  “Is Randi home yet?”

  “No. Tomorrow. Amy?”

  “Late tomorrow night, I think. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you. I wanted to tell you about the Rodgers investigation.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I’m sorry to say it looks like he was probably murdered. There was another murder.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yes. A friend of his, Aaron Peterson. Do you know him?”

  “No. He was a friend of Johnny’s?”

  “Yes. He was drowned too. And made to look like a suicide. I — are you okay with me talking about this?”

  “I’m okay. God.…Someone killed Johnny. Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  There was a comfortable silence between them. Then Terry said, “Well, thank you, George. Thank you for doing this.”

  “Oh, don’t thank me. It’s my job.”

  “No, it really isn’t. Johnny was in the Lake of the Ozarks. If you hadn’t looked into it, he would have just been forgotten.”

  “Terry, I still haven’t arrested anyone. I may never find the killer.”

  “You will, George.”

  Hastings smiled to himself. Eileen used to say things like that to him. Encourage him with comments like, “You’re going to show them how this shit works.” And she had his number there. For most homicide detectives, ego was a great part of what drove them to catch the bad guy. In homicide, detectives didn’t say things like, “We’re fighting for justice.” Rather, they said things like, “This motherfucker killed someone and he thinks he’s smarter than me, but I’m going to pull him down and stick his ass in prison and wipe that smug smile off his fucking face.”

  Now Hastings said, “Well, I’m working on it.”

  Another pause. And Hastings waited, wondering if the call had been dropped.

  And then Terry McGregor said, “Keep working on it.”

  It cheered him as nothing had in the last few days. Something as simple as that. Not just what she said, but the way she said it.

  “Thank you,” Hastings said. “I will.”

  “George, something else is bothering you. What is it?”

  “Oh…nothing.”

  “No, it’s something. Is it about Amy?”

  Hastings hesitated. She was a friend, but he didn’t want to burden her with it. It would make him seem weak. But he knew now that he needed to talk to someone about it.

  He said, “Well…sort of. Amy took this exam at school and she did real well. And…she’s practically got straight A’s. Well, she’s been offered a place at Country Day.”

  “Country Day. George, that’s great.”

  “I know, but…well, I can’t…I can’t afford the tuition. But Eileen and her husband want to pay for it. So…so Eileen and I have been fighting about it.”

  “I see. Does Eileen work?”

  “Oh, not really. For a while she was ‘managing’ Ted’s office, but apparently she was driving his staff crazy so now Ted sort of pays her not to come in.”

  Terry laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “Did Ted tell you this?”

  “No, Eileen did. At times, she has bouts of self-awareness.”

  “Her husband’s a lawyer, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Pretty successful one, too.”

  “He’s got money?”

  “Yeah, he’s got money.”

  “Let me ask you this: does he want to pay the tuition?”

  “He does, actually. You have to understand, I spent a couple of years wanting to beat the shit out of Ted. He slept with my wife while we were still married. Then he took her from me. But…he is pretty good to Amy. I think he loves her too.”

  “Does he have his own children?”

  Hastings had never thought about that. He said, “No.”

  “Well,” Terry said. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What I mean is, he took on Eileen and her daughter. A lot of men, maybe even most men, they’re not too cool about picking up the expense of another man’s child. When it gets to be a pain, they just leave.”

  “Well…”

  “And Eileen’s husband hasn’t done that, has he?”

  “No. Well, he loves Eileen.”

  “I’m sure he does. He’s committed himself to her and all the baggage she brings. Enough that he’s willing to pay for her daughter’s school. I’ll tell you right now, not a lot of men would do that.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s possible. But isn’t it possible that he’s doing it to, well, I don’t know, to prove something?”

  “What do you mean? George, do you think he wants to pay the tuition just so he can stick it to you? Show you up?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You say you don’t know, but you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  Terry sighed. “That’s a bit…far fetched, don’t you think?”

  “Is it?”

  “Well, you know this man better than I do. But I doubt he’d write a check for thousands of dollars just to stick it to you. He didn’t take Eileen just to spite you. He married her, after they had an affair, probably because he loved her.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I think I do, George. You’re a proud man. It’s an admirable quality. Very admirable. But maybe you need to think about this in a less — a less competitive way. If Eileen were paying for it, if Eileen had her own money, I don’t think it would bother you.”

  “…no, it wouldn’t.”

  “Well, Eileen has money because of her marriage. What’s the difference?”

  “It’s just different.”

  “I don’t think it is. I think very highly of you. And I wouldn’t think any less of you if you let them pay for the tuition.”

  “But you’re not me.”

  “No. George, what does Amy want?”

  Hastings hesitated. Then he said, “You know, I think she’s afraid to tell me. But I think she wants to go.”

  “And what would be better for her?”

  Hastings knew. “It would be better for her to go to private school. Better opportunities, better future. I think it…would probably be better for her.”

  “Look, George, I’m not going to tell you what to do. But…you and Amy are beautiful together. You’re not going to lose her just because she goes to an exclusive school. Just think about it, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “You’re a good man, George, and a good father. But there are other good men too. Maybe your ex-wife’s husband is one of them. I don’t know. I know you’ll figure it out, though.”

  “All right, Terry. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me.…Look, I need to get to bed. Will you be all right?”

  “I’ll be fine.” He smiled to himself. Now he was leaning on neighbors for counsel, in addition to lawyers. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up booked on Dr. Phil. “Good night, Terry.”

  “Good night, George.”

  Miranda Rodgers worked at Galleria Mall in Brentwood. She was selling stockings to a customer when Hastings first saw her. He watched her for a few moments. A woman of about forty, stout and overly breasted. She was a little bit older than he had expected. Her hair was dyed red with a vegetable based solution and her skin was pallid. She had a sort of dirty attractiveness about her.

  When she finished with the customer, Hastings approached her and told her who he was. She looked at his identification when he set it on the sales
counter, then slowly raised her head to take him in. Her expression was bold and appraising.

  “Johnny killed himself,” she said.

  Hastings said, “We’re not so sure about that anymore. Will you talk with me?”

  She agreed to talk with him and together they walked down to the food court and took seats near the chick-filet.

  Hastings said, “Did you know about his friend Aaron?”

  “I met Aaron. What about him?”

  “He was drowned to death a couple of nights ago. In a swimming pool. Then he was transported to the river and dumped.”

  “Oh. Wow.”

  Hastings looked at her for a moment. Wow. He said, “So we know Aaron was murdered. And we think Johnny was too.”

  “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  “Not likely. We figure if we find Johnny’s killer, we find Aaron’s too.”

  “I got you,” Miranda said.

  “Can you account for your whereabouts the night Johnny was killed?”

  “Yes. I was home with my kids. My sister was there too with her kids.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Just hanging out. Watching videos with the kids.”

  “Can you give me contact information for your sister?”

  Miranda Rodgers shrugged. “Sure.”

  “And two nights ago?”

  “Two nights ago, I was here. The store manager can tell you that, if you want.”

  “Good. Is he or she here today?”

  “Yeah, she’s here.”

  “I’ll talk with her later,” Hastings said. “Did Johnny have any enemies?”

  “None that I knew. You know we were divorced, right?”

  “Yes. What caused the divorce?”

  Miranda shrugged again. “He just didn’t want to be married anymore.”

  “Did you?”

  “I guess I did. It was his decision.”

  “He was a homosexual.”

  “Well…I would say bisexual.”

  “You would?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he have female sexual partners?”

  “None that I know. Me, I guess.”

  “Recently?”

  “Recently?” She smiled. “Well, no. It’d been a few years since he and I…”

  “Then why would you say he was bisexual?”

  “That’s what he called himself. I think he would have known.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “Twelve years.”

  “Did you know he was ho — bisexual when you married him?”