by J. S. Marlo
Once in the washroom he sent Liliane a text, then to keep up the pretense he flushed the toilet. By the time he returned, the table had been cleared of her grandson’s leftover supper.
“Careful, it’s hot.” She placed a steaming cup on the table where he’d first sat, then brought cream and sugar. “I should feel guilty for keeping you here, but it’s refreshing to talk to a charming man.”
“I can assure you, it’s my pleasure.” The fragrant aroma emanating from his cup titillated his senses. Skipping the milk and the sugar, he tasted the dark brew. The flavor overwhelmed his taste buds. “Delicious.” Warm sensations drifted through his body and he regretted not using the facilities for real. “I may need to use your bathroom again.”
A smile blossomed on Janet’s lips. “Be my guest.”
Chapter Seventeen
~Mirrors don’t lie.~
Jasper couldn’t ignore the flimsy connection existing between Stuart Reiter and Audra Barkley’s gray car. After giving Officer Morse new directives for the rest of the evening, he headed for the office of Stuart’s party. The lights inside the building sandwiched between a pizzeria and a stationary store were lit and a flurry of shadows stirred behind the blinds.
He entered the premises.
Filled with a dozen or so rectangular tables overflowing with posters, maps, pens, papers, envelopes, and boxes, the lobby buzzed with activity. None of the employees busy at the tables, or bouncing from one table to the next, paid him the least attention.
Without waiting for an invitation, Jasper ventured into the back room where a group of people discussed strategy around a round table and a stack of pizza boxes. The logo on the top box matched the one in the window next door.
A middle-aged man bolted to his feet, ending the discussion. “This is a private meeting, Officer. Is there something wrong?”
The speaker resembled the guy on the pamphlet Jasper found in his mailbox last week. According to the latest poll, he trailed only one point behind the incumbent candidate.
“Sorry to intrude, but I’d like a word in private with your manager, Mr. Stuart Reiter.” The person Jasper sought to speak with gazed at him with a puzzled expression from the right side of the candidate. “Now, please.”
Reiter excused himself then led him into a room past the washroom where white boxes stacked upon brown boxes formed a vertical checkerboard on the back wall. Jasper skipped over a cardboard roller and waited near a small table folded behind a moving dolly.
When the manager closed the door behind him, the noise from the office died down.
“Sorry, but the lightening in this office hurts my eyes.” From his shirt pocket, Reiter pulled out a pair of mirrored sunglasses that he pushed up the bridge of his nose. “What can I do for you?”
Above Jasper’s head, a flickering fluorescent tube toyed with his visual nerves. He couldn’t decide if Reiter chose this room to throw him off balance or to have an excuse to conceal his expression. A lot could be learned from looking into a man’s eyes, but in this case, Jasper would have to rely on other physical cues.
“I’m Detective O’Neil.” Since he wore his uniform, he didn’t bother providing additional identification. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was told Audra Barkley left on a cruise with your aunt Wilma. I was wondering if you overheard the two ladies talk about who would be checking on her property during her absence. We know she has a daughter, but we haven’t succeeded in locating her.”
“According to my aunt, Audra hasn’t spoken to her daughter since she got knocked-up by a married biker and ran away some twenty years ago. Good luck finding her.” With his back leaning against a brown box, Reiter rolled his sleeves then crossed his arms over his chest. “Since Audra doesn’t have any other relatives, I take care of her. She’s like a second aunt, so I check her place many times a week. I know it’s summer and I don’t have to worry about frozen pipes and furnace breakdowns, still I like to make sure everything is fine. She’d be devastated if something happened during her vacation.”
A reputation as a caring, helpful, and altruistic man didn’t precede Reiter, so Jasper questioned his motivations for driving to Audra’s place many times a week during a busy electoral campaign. “When’s the last time you paid the property a visit?”
“Around 6:00 this morning, before I came to work.” His brows played peekaboo over the rim of his glasses. “Why? Did something happen?”
Neither the broken window nor the open door of the garage were visible from the driveway. Assuming he didn’t lie about his morning visit, Reiter wouldn’t have seen the damage unless he also checked the garage.
Later on, Jasper would talk to other employees in order to verify Reiter’s whereabouts. “Someone broke into her garage and vandalized her car.”
“Vandalized? In the garage?” The man’s Adams apple bobbed up and down against the knot of a burgundy tie. “How extensive is the damage? Is it the paint? The engine? The interior?”
“The damage appears limited to the exterior paint.” It didn’t escape Jasper that Reiter mentioned that damage first. “We didn’t see a key, so we couldn’t determine if it sustained any mechanical damage.”
Reiter dug his hands into his pants pockets. “The key is in the house on top of the bread box. I’ll do a test drive tonight. If it’s just the paint, maybe I can get it fixed before Audra’s return, that way she won’t be too traumatized.” Intentionally or not, he confirmed he could borrow the car at will. “You said break-in. Was the window broken? Maybe I can get that repaired too.”
Two other points of entry could have been used. The side door and the lifting garage door. While it would have been trickier to lift the front door, it would have been easier and safer to pry the side door open than climb through the window and risk cutting oneself on the shards of glass still embedded in the pane.
Though Reiter’s forearms didn’t sport any cuts or scratches, that he picked the window to sneak in raised Jasper’s suspicion. The side door had shown no signs of forced entry, still the manager could have smashed the window to stage a break-in then unlocked the side door and come in. “When you visited the property this morning, do you recall seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary?”
“No. Not that I can remember. Sorry.” As he inched toward the door, his phone rang. Reiter raised it in front of his chin, hiding the screen from Jasper. Two bright blue initials reflected in his sunglasses. FJ. He put the phone back in his shirt pocket without answering it. “Will that be all, Detective?”
“No, I’ll need the details of her trip.” The uncanny feeling Reiter was eager to dismiss him gnawed at Jasper’s insides. “Also, where were you on Wednesday morning between 5:30 and 7:00 a.m.?”
The left corner of Reiter’s mouth twitched. “If I recall, wasn’t Thomas Finch killed during that time frame? Are you accusing me of his murder?”
Yes, you recall well. And no, I wasn’t accusing you of that crime. Yet. “You seem to possess a remarkable memory, so I take you won’t have too much difficulty recalling where you were that morning?”
“Of course not.” A smirk played on his thin lips. “We scheduled an early strategy meeting that morning in this office. You can ask my candidate—or the dozen other people who attended. We’d just finished the meeting when one of our supporters walked in and told us about his death after hearing it on the radio. The news is still very much on everyone’s mind.”
The campaign office was situated within walking distance of the election office. Until Jasper ruled out the possibility that Reiter sneaked in and out without anyone seeing him, the manager had earned himself a top spot on his suspect list.
“What about Thursday between 11:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m.?” Though no one had seen Sophie after Liliane sent her home around 7:30 a.m., the coroner had narrowed down her time of death to a two-hour window. Most of the murders Jasper investigated in his career occurred at night. To orchestrate a suicide in broad daylight could be interpreted as a bold, impulsive, or desper
ate act.
Reiter paused with his hand on the doorknob. “We were in meetings all day Thursday trying to figure out how the death of the returning officer would affect the election. We even ordered take-out. Again, you can check with my candidate—or anyone else in the office. Will that be all or do you have more wild accusations to throw in the air? I need to get back to work. We have an election to win.”
“That will be all, Mr. Reiter.” For now. “Thank you for your time.”
~ * ~
With Officer Morse’s cruiser parked in front of her house and Nathalie’s minivan in her driveway, Liliane didn’t fear anyone would make a second attempt on her life, but she worried about Damien.
“Would you stop pacing the kitchen?” Seated at the kitchen table, Nathalie nursed a cup of chamomile tea spiked with gin. “I’m sure he can take care of himself.”
Hours ago, Damien sent her a picture of Janet Finch’s vehicles, which didn’t match the description of the car parked near her house, and a text message saying he was having coffee with Thomas’ widow and would explain further when he met her later tonight. He didn’t return to the office before Liliane closed at 9:00 p.m. and he still hadn’t paid her a visit.
“How long can it take him to drink a cup of coffee?” Weary and wary, she slumped in a chair opposite the table from Nathalie. “I shouldn’t have asked him to snoop around her house. I should have waited for Jasper.”
Though she hadn’t seen Jasper since earlier today, she’d expected him to meet her at the election office and bring her home, not delegate the task to Officer Morse.
“First, has it occurred to you that maybe Finch’s widow is feeling a little lonely and that she invited him to stay for morning coffee?” Her friend wiggled her brows at her. “The guy may not be a stud muffin, but he’s a charmer.”
“Damien? Spending the night with Finch’s widow?” Dumbfounded, Liliane eyeballed the cup in Nathalie’s hand. “How much gin did you pour in it?”
“Not enough to lose my faculties and not be able to drive once Detective O’Neil arrives.” Her friend licked the rim of the cup with devilish glints dancing in her eyes. “Now, he’s a hottie—in case you haven’t noticed. And he’s single.”
While she didn’t deny Jasper owned an incredible physique, Liliane deemed it inappropriate to share such a conversation with Morse watching television in the living room, with a killer lurking in the shadows, or with Damien missing in action.
“That’s it. No more to drink for you.” Liliane stowed the bottle of gin in the pantry. “I’ve known Damien for too long, Nathalie. This isn’t like him. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Are you sure that’s not arthritis, Li—” Knocks on the door interrupted Nathalie. “See, Damien is back. Your joints are fine.”
The officer in charge of her safety answered the door. The voice, which Liliane recognized, didn’t belong to Damien.
~ * ~
Jasper possessed a knack for emptying buildings crowded with drug dealers trying to avoid capture, but the speed at which Nathalie departed on Morse’s heels mystified him.
“Do I smell that bad? For the record, I took a shower this morning and I wore a clean uniform.” Holding Liliane by both shoulders, he pulled her toward him. “Is something wrong? Why the long face?”
While he drove to her place, he received three phone calls. The first one confirmed the fire chief’s suspicion. Someone triggered the explosion.
Her head resting against his chest, she fidgeted with her iPhone. “I did something...something you may not approve.”
He breathed in her unique scent. Since she already did whatever she regretted, it didn’t matter if he approved or not. “I promise not to throw you in jail. So what happened?”
A heavy sigh shook her body. “Janet Finch lied to me, Jasper. Thomas forced her to make contributions to that party in her name to circumvent the rule that prevents him from doing it himself. When I confronted her in her office, she pretended the check didn’t matter, but she had to know it mattered a great deal.”
“Well, it seems she’s lying on more than one account.” The second call came from the handwriting expert he contacted. “Thomas’ signature was a forgery, mind you a decent one.”
“I knew I was right.” Her exclamation was punctuated with a high five on his chest. “She was the only one with access to that check book. She wrote the check, and that could be the reason she wanted to silence me. I asked too many questions, but Damien didn’t see any gray car.” Her open palm curled into a fist, creasing the front of his shirt. “I shouldn’t have sent him snooping around her house. Something must have happened. He—”
“Backtrack, would you?” Needing to make sense of her story, he cupped her face to force her to look him in the eyes. “Who’s snooping where?”
“I...” She leaned into his hands, moaning. “I thought Janet Finch might be the one stalking me, so I asked Damien to go pay her his sympathy. While there, he looked into her garage, but didn’t see any gray car. She also has a solid alibi for this morning.”
The third call he received came from the lab. Traces of gray paint matching the car in Audra’s garage were detected on a chisel. Most of the scratches were compatible with the tool, except for the scuff near the trunk. After closer inspection, blue plastic particles were discovered in the scuff, particles that were traced back to the blue handle of the leash. They identified the vehicle parked in Liliane’s neighborhood the morning of the explosion.
“We found the gray car.” He explained in detail the discovery and the indirect connection with Stuart Reiter.
“Stuart?” Recoiling from his arms, she slumped on the blue loveseat closest to the fireplace. “You think he vandalized the car to cover the scratch after he found the note?”
Impressed by her power of deduction, he sat beside her. Though he dealt in facts, not suppositions, he couldn’t help favoring this particular scenario. “I ran a background check. Stuart served in the military for three years as a mechanic before being discharged for fraternizing with a married female officer. He was also trained to handle explosives.”
“Are you still assuming it wasn’t an accident?” Stoic, she met his gaze and held it. “Or do you know for sure?”
“It was attempted murder, Liliane.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and was pleased when she accepted his silent invitation to snuggle against him. “The evidence against Stuart is circumstantial at best, and I’m still missing a motive, but it adds up.”
“The man is a condescending prick, still I don’t get why he’d want to kill me, unless...” As the wheels in her brain turned, her face contorted in a myriad of expressions.
Talk to me, Liliane. Not only did he welcome her insights, he sought her input. “Unless what?”
“Stuart leaked the existence of the check to Damien. What if he knew it was a forgery? What if he colluded with Janet Finch? You said it yourself, it was a decent copy. Had it become public knowledge that Thomas tried to contribute illegally to the party, whether Greg cashed his check or not, Election Headquarters would have launched an investigation into their finances. Stuart could easily have dubbed the incident a corruption scandal, therefore sinking the opposite candidate’s chances of being re-elected while Janet would have damaged her husband’s reputation as returning officer, though—if you ask me, he didn’t need any help dragging his name into the mud. Anyway, it doesn’t explain Thomas’ or Sophie’s murders.” Her iPhone in her hand, she swiped through different screens. “Or Damien’s whereabouts. He sent me this message. Nathalie isn’t overly concerned, but I am. What do you make of it?”
Peeking over her shoulder at her iPhone, he read the last message.
JF has solid alibi for this morning. I’m having coffee with her. I will explain when I see you later tonight. D
As he realized JF meant Janet Finch, another set of letters swirled in his mind. FJ. When he read the reflection of these letters in Stuart’s glasses, he flipped each
letter on itself but forgot they threaded from right to left.
The call came from a JF, not a FJ. Jasper checked the time stamp on Damien’s message. “While Reiter and I were talking in the party’s office, he received a call about thirty minutes after Damien texted you that last message. Reiter didn’t answer, but all of a sudden, he seemed eager to terminate our conversation. The caller’s initials were JF.”
A small gasp escaped Liliane’s throat. “Janet called him? It can’t be a coincidence.”
“We don’t know for sure that JF stands for Janet Finch.” Other people sported the same initials, though none so closely related to his cases. As he pondered the implication, Jasper returned his gaze on the iPhone where he caught sight of the picture above the message. “Is that a black SUV?”
“I...it looks like it. Hold on.” She pinched her fingers then stretched them over the screen, enlarging the image. “Someone is sitting in the back. Is that...Batman?”
To get a better look, he borrowed her iPhone and flipped it vertically before enlarging it further. The Batman car seat was installed on the passenger side of the back seat. “This SUV matches the description of the suspicious vehicle seen in Sophie’s neighborhood the morning of her death. Where did you get that picture?”
“I told you. Damien. I asked him to check what kind of cars Janet Finch drove while he paid his respects. He sent me that picture. See?” With an elongated finger, she pointed at the caption underneath the image. Finchs’ cars. Both in garage. “Are you saying that SUV is connected to Sophie’s murder?”
“The Finchs and the Minks live at opposite ends of town. The presence of their black SUV in Sophie’s neighborhood points toward a connection.” The widow didn’t lack motives to kill her husband, or her husband’s mistress. Revenge, anger, humiliation, greed, insurance, or money. If Thomas treated his wife the same way he used and abused everyone else in his life, and she pleaded not-guilty by reason of insanity, a jury might exonerate her for his murder.