Jen Conrad sat facing the stage at a long table with a clear top, possibly glass or acrylic. The top sat on a metallic base that looked like musical notes. Interesting. I couldn’t recall what design style that was. Mac would know. I hadn’t noticed the table style when I watched the recording at Mac’s house. I paused it for a second and took a photo with my cell phone. Jen sipped from a white plastic cup with a Pepsi logo etched on it.
She conversed with a man who resembled Homer Simpson, except he had little round wire-rimmed glasses. He was sitting next to her, and they both talked as if nobody else was in the room. The man scooted closer, draped his arm over the back of her chair, and whispered in her ear. She threw her head back, laughing as she touched his arm, then looked into his eyes, smiling. Her display of affection and energy was nothing like what Bernie and I had experienced when we spoke to her. Of course, we weren’t trying to charm her out of her pants either.
I paused the DVD as the camera zoomed in on Jen caressing his hand. He was wearing a gold wedding band. Uh-oh. I wondered if they showed this in the program that aired. I planned to ask Mac if she had the recording for dates around that time. Bernie and Khrystal may have it as well. I wrote a note to ask Theresa if she knew who he was then pressed play. Jen flicked a glance at Teena, who was sitting on the other side of her, but not as close as the man. Teena was focused on the stage, her mouth a thin line as she shook her head. While Jen was busy flirting, Teena was doing her job.
The door to the video room opened, and I paused the recording again. “Hey, Bernie.”
“What’s going on?” He pulled up a chair opposite me.
“I haven’t reached the part Theresa was talking about, but I have noticed a bit of flirting between Jen and some guy.” I reversed the recording and stopped when I got to Homer. “Him. Do you know who he is?”
“Oh, right. He’s another judge they brought in recently. He usually sits between the two ladies, though.”
I pressed play. “What’s his name?”
“Oh, man.” He raked his fingers through dark hair that was becoming more sprinkled with gray over time. He was staring at the table. “I can’t remember. It’ll come to me when I stop thinking about it.”
I paused it as the camera showed their hands. “He’s wearing a wedding band.”
Bernie’s eyes widened. “If Jen had been murdered, I’d say we had ourselves a suspect in the wife.”
I got out my cell phone and checked for text messages. No such luck. I still hadn’t heard anything from Brad. I called Theresa again because I was too lazy to get up and walk to her desk. I told myself calling was faster, anyway.
The door opened, and Theresa stepped into the room. I disconnected and set my phone on the table.
“Theresa, do you know the name of the man who’s sitting next to Jen?” Bernie pointed at the TV.
She took a seat next to me. “That’s John Walker.”
“Walker?” I leaned toward her. “As in someone related to Curtis?”
She nodded. “I think they’re brothers. There was a big stink when Curtis hired him because John Walker has no entertainment experience. He started out off-camera and became a judge later.”
I looked at Bernie. “I’d love to know how much money he makes and how ambitious he is.”
“Ambitious enough to kill off the competition?” Bernie asked.
We both looked at Theresa.
She shrugged. “Rumor has it that he’s not ambitious at all, but he loves to spend money. He has a gambling problem, so they say. And he doesn’t make as much as Teena did, I’ve heard. Being unambitious doesn’t mean you don’t like to have money in your pockets. It just means you’re not wanting to put a lot of effort into earning it.”
“Well, well, well,” I said. “He might be her Las Vegas companion.”
“If she ever went,” Bernie said.
Theresa was staring at the screen. “What if Curtis thinks John killed Teena or Billi, and he’s trying to deflect the attention onto the contestants or their families?”
“I’d think Curtis would know better than anyone how lazy and unambitious his brother was,” I said. “However, he’d also know if Johnny boy was in debt and needed money. Maybe he owes loan sharks, and that’s why Curtis gave him the job. What if he’s covering for his brother?”
Bernie stood. “It’s worth thinking about. It would explain his repeated calls asking about suspects.”
“I still think he cares more about ratings than anything, though. We still have the issue of the stolen mail from my apartment. Who’d care about that?”
“I don’t know. Too many questions and no answers. I’m going to try reaching Curtis again.” Bernie left the room then poked his head back in. “How’s Mac?”
I told him she was doing well and was scheduled to go home from the hospital that day.
Theresa and I continued to watch the videos. Later, someone knocked on the door, and Gomez poked her head in. “Sydney, you have visitors at the front desk. Howard and Charlotte Stone. They’re the parents of Teena Travis.”
“Where the heck have they been all of this time?” Theresa asked.
“Paris. Teena gave them a trip for their hundredth wedding anniversary.” I rolled my eyes and made a gagging noise.
“Really, Sydney. You need to be more romantic, girl. You’d think having that great boyfriend of yours would’ve done the trick.” She shook her head, but she was smiling.
I didn’t volunteer anything about my so-called great boyfriend, the cheater. “Yeah, you’d think.” I shrugged and stood.
“Uh-oh.” She glanced up at me. “Trouble in Bradland?”
“Have you ever sent your parents on a trip for their anniversary?” I asked.
“I haven’t, but it’s sweet that Teena did. It’s too bad they had to come back to this mess.” She stood and pushed her chair in. “I’ve got to get to my other cases, but I’ll be available if you need me to watch more videos. Do you want to grab some lunch later?”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was well past my normal lunchtime. “Sure. I’ll come get you, but if you get hungry before I do, feel free to go ahead without me.”
“Okay.” She smiled as she turned to leave the room.
I noted where I’d stopped on the video and removed it from the machine before packing everything up and taking them to my desk. I braced myself to deal with the Stones. Talking to grief-stricken parents about their murdered child was one of the hardest parts of my job.
Chapter Sixteen
I pushed open the door to the room and found the Stones sitting together at a long conference table. Mr. Stone had his arm around his wife, and she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. He plucked another one from the Kleenex box on the table and handed it to her as they studied me. They were both gray-haired and slight in appearance.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stone, I’m Detective Valentine. I’m sorry for your loss.” I pulled up a chair across from them and laid my notebook on the table. I was hoping to find out more about their family dynamics. “When did you get back into town?”
“Last night,” Mr. Stone said. “We’re a little dazed and out of sorts. Has anyone been arrested yet?” He leaned in, making eye contact.
“No, but we’ve been following up on leads.”
“Have you spoken to George and Veronica?” Mrs. Stone’s voice quivered.
“Yes, we have. We’ll talk to them again soon. How was the relationship between your children? Did they get along?”
Mrs. Stone glanced at her husband before looking down at her hands.
“Mrs. Stone? Do you have something you’d like to share with me?”
She exhaled and looked at the ceiling. “Our daughters were closer to each other than they were to their brother.”
I was taking notes. “Can you tell me why?”
“He didn’t work.” Mr. Stone removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with tissue. “They called him a freeloader.”
Mrs. Stone gasped and looke
d at him, wide-eyed.
“It’s true, Charlotte. You know it is.” It was his turn to sigh. He replaced his glasses.
“Had there ever been any violence between them?” I looked from one to the other.
His gaze shifted around the room. “Not to each other, but Teena accused George of killing Chico. He was her golden retriever.”
I nodded. “When was the last time you spoke to Teena?”
“The day we left for Paris,” he said. “We’d only been gone about a week before Billi called us to tell us Teena had passed on.”
“Teena had been to Paris before and suggested places to eat and things to do,” Mrs. Stone said. “That’s about all.”
“Have you spoken to George since you came back?”
“I haven’t. I’ve called, but he hasn’t returned my calls.” Mr. Stone looked at his wife. “Charlotte?”
“He called this morning,” she said.
“What did you talk about?” I asked.
Mr. Stone scoffed. “Money, I’m sure.”
“He’s right.” She shook her head. “It’s the only reason he calls us.”
“Do you give it to him?” I already knew the answer to that question. If George called his mother instead of returning his father’s calls, she must have been an easy target.
Mr. Stone pointed to his wife. “She does. I don’t.”
“Has he ever been physically violent with you or anyone else?” I asked.
He nodded. “He pushed me once. He was fourteen.”
“What did you do?”
“I pushed him back, right on his ass. Excuse me. He never tried it again.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back.
I jotted all of that down. “Is that the only time?”
“With us, yes. I really don’t know about others. I don’t think he’s ever hit his sisters. They wouldn’t have allowed it to happen more than once.”
“When do you plan to see George again?” My cell phone rang. It was Brad, so I let it go to voice mail. Bad timing.
They both shrugged. I gave them business cards and asked them to call if they had any questions. I also requested they call me if they heard from George. I doubted they would, especially Mr. Stone. I walked them outside to the parking lot and watched as they got in their Chevy Impala. If George was motivated by money, it was conceivable that he could have hurt Teena if he hadn’t gotten what he wanted.
My heart raced as I punched in my password to my phone’s voice mail. Brad had left a message.
“Hey, Sydney. Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. Can we have dinner tonight? I can pick you up at six if that’s okay. Call or shoot me a text to let me know. Bye.”
I started to call then decided I’d prefer to talk to him in person about the blonde who had ridden in his truck the night before. If I brought it up, it would look as though I was spying on him. It would be better if he was the one who started that conversation. I sent him a text acknowledging the receipt of his voice mail and letting him know six o’clock was fine with me. I went back inside to grab Theresa for a late lunch and talk to Bernie.
I strolled into the squad room and found Bernie at Theresa’s desk, chatting away. She was giggling like a school girl. A Jersey Mike’s sub wrapper with a half-eaten sandwich lay on her desk. I eyed it.
“I was hungry,” Theresa said. “I got you a veggie sub. It’s on your desk.”
“Thank you. What are you two up to over here?” I asked.
“Nothing much.” Bernie picked up a Post-it note with writing on it. “Just waiting for you to come back. I got the names of the security guards they use for the show. Walker gave them to me. I described the one in the video, and he told me the guard is out of town on vacation, but he’ll be back tomorrow. His name is Ben Lane. Walker didn’t even ask about the investigation much.”
I supposed he reserved that conversation for yours truly. Lucky me.
“Did you ask about his brother John?” I asked.
“I did. He told me that he can hire whomever he likes, and it’s not anyone’s business as long as it doesn’t interfere with the show making money.”
I nodded. “I’m not surprised he’d say that. The question is: Did John want Teena’s job bad enough to kill for it?”
“No,” Bernie said. “I think the question is: Does John want Jen bad enough to kill for her?”
Theresa was shaking her head. “I think Jen could be playing him. She’s a good-looking woman, and she was flirting with him hard in that DVD. Also, if he has a gambling problem, who knows what else is going on?”
I looked from one of them to the other. “Wait. Maybe she has issues with gambling too. Her house is a shack compared to Teena’s. I know Teena is rumored to have made more, but Jen probably isn’t making chump change. What do you think?”
Theresa lifted a shoulder then nodded. “Hey, Bernie, maybe your buddy Curtis will tell you Teena, Jen, and John’s salaries.” She winked at him. “Why don’t you give him a call?”
“I think I will.” He slid his cell phone from his pocket. “Watch and learn, ladies. Watch and learn.” He grinned. Mr. Confidence.
Theresa and I looked at each other, both with raised eyebrows. I was fairly certain Walker wouldn’t give him that information, at least not for his brother. The way Theresa was shaking her head, I didn’t think she believed it either.
“It’s ringing.” Bernie held out his phone so we could hear it ringing. Walker’s voice boomed through the phone, but it was his voice mail. Bernie sighed but left a message for Walker to return his call.
“Let us know if he gets back to you.” I patted Bernie on the arm and smiled as I passed. “I’m going to eat my sub and watch the rest of the DVD.”
I didn’t see anything except more flirting between Jen and Homer-slash-John Walker. It was disgusting to watch, and I almost lost my appetite. I caught a few sidelong glances by Teena at the couple. She’d rolled her eyes more than once.
I heard from Forensics before I left for the day. They found blood and gunpowder residue on the comforter Mac was lying on in the bathtub. They were able to retrieve hairs and carpet fibers as well. They’d ruled out the carpet in my apartment and Billi’s. They suspected the fibers were from the trunk of a car. The hairs weren’t mine. Mac’s hair was blond, and mine was auburn. The hairs found were short and dark. This was good because it gave us something to go on if we ever narrowed down our list of suspects.
I left for home, gearing up to deal with the Brad situation.
Chapter Seventeen
Brad was parked in a visitor’s parking space near my apartment when I got home. I was late for our dinner date. So what? After he’d been laughing and riding along with blondie, he could wait for me. He climbed out of his truck and flashed his gorgeous smile. I almost felt guilty for being bothered by the bimbo.
“Hi, Sydney.” He reached for me, and I let him give me a hug. My arms remained at my sides, but he didn’t appear to notice. He smelled like soap, as if he’d just showered.
“Hi, Brad. How are you?” I tried to sound cool and receptive. I turned and ambled to my front door with Brad trailing behind me.
“I’m good. How was your day?” He stood behind me, playing with my curls as I unlocked the door. “Everything okay with you?”
“Yep. Fine.” I stepped inside and turned on the lights.
“Are you hungry? I am.” He rubbed his stomach and smiled.
“Actually, I’m not hungry. Theresa bought me a sub from Jersey Mike’s, and I had a late lunch today. I forgot about our dinner. Sorry.” I plopped on the sofa and looked up at him, not feeling sorry at all.
“Really?” He sat beside me. “I wish I’d known. I would’ve eaten before I came over.” He looked around the room as if he planned to munch on my furniture. I nearly laughed at the thought.
“Can I make you something? I don’t have much because I haven’t been to the grocery store.”
I got up and went to the kitchen, and he followed. I ma
de him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, poured a glass of low-fat milk that may have been close to its expiration date, and gave him an old apple. We went back to the living room and sat on the sofa. He ate his food quickly without complaining.
“Are you still working on the Mega Star case?” He drank half of his milk then wiped the milk moustache with the back of his hand.
I nodded. “Yes, I am. We haven’t caught a break yet, though.” I glanced at him. “I haven’t heard from you.”
“I’m sorry. Yesterday was a crazy day for me.”
I stiffened. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“What do you mean? Is something wrong? You sound like you’re angry with me all of a sudden.”
He should’ve seen me yesterday. “What was so crazy about yesterday?”
“I’m sorry.” He went to the kitchen and set his dishes in the sink. “I was distracted.”
Yeah, I would have called it that. “Distracted by what? Or should I say whom?”
He sat next to me. “What are you talking about? That sounds accusatory.”
“Are you seeing someone else? Is that why you didn’t get in touch with me?”
He frowned and looked away. “Of course, I’m not. That’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t be here if I was seeing someone else.”
“Why were you distracted then?” Spit it out, buddy.
“I had trouble with my truck. I didn’t even go to the house to do any renovations. I was leaving in the morning, my truck stalled, and I couldn’t get it started again. I ended up calling for a tow. They took it to a shop that I go to for maintenance. They had it all day. They finally finished right before they closed.”
I looked him in the eyes. “Why didn’t you call and tell me?”
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