“We’re not talking about me. And those pictures aren’t ancient history. Some of them were only posted thirty days ago. I figure you’d remember something as recent as that,” I said.
“I try not to look back,” Scott replied.
“How is that going for you?” I asked.
“I think you’re looking at this all wrong.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you figure?”
“If I had something to hide, do you really think I would have left those photos up on the Internet? Not a chance,” Scott said.
“Maybe you have been too preoccupied with more devious activities,” I replied.
Scott shook his head. “No. I’m not going to let you pin this on me. I had nothing to do with Gregory’s death.”
“Unfortunately, you can’t prove that,” David said.
“You can’t prove anything, either,” Scott replied. “Now you can keep asking me the same questions over and over if you want, but I’m going to tell you right now that my answers will all be the same.”
I held my pointer finger up. “I just have one more question for you. I seem to have a little bit of food in my teeth. Do you happen to have a toothpick?”
Scott replied without the least bit of hesitation. “No.”
“That was a quick answer. Are you sure you don’t have a toothpick anywhere in your house?” I asked.
“I don’t use toothpicks. I have some dental floss, though,” Scott said.
“Never mind, then,” I replied.
“Suit yourself. Now are we done here?” Scott asked.
David wanted to keep pressing him, but he could tell that Scott wasn’t going to give us anything. Since David didn’t have enough to detain Scott, he reluctantly decided to move on.
Chapter Ten
David and I headed back toward central Treasure Cove, where Doug Stevenson’s investment banking and wealth management firm was located. The place was sleek, modern, and decked out with a generous amount of glass and steel furnishings.
A brunette twentysomething receptionist named Brooke greeted David and me as we entered the waiting room of the office.
“Can I help you?” Brooke asked.
David flashed his police badge. “We need to speak with Doug Stevenson.”
Brooke grimaced. “I’m afraid that Mr. Stevenson is not in right now.”
“Do you know where he is?” David asked.
“He’s having lunch at Antonio’s Restaurant,” Brooke replied.
“Thank you,” David said.
“Just one more question before we go,” I replied. “Do you happen to know where Doug was last night between seven and eight o’clock?”
“I assume he was here,” Brooke said.
“You assume? So you don’t know?” I asked.
“He was still here when I left,” Brooke said.
“What time was that?” I asked.
“Six o’clock. But it’s not uncommon for him to work well into the night,” Brooke said.
“After you went home, was he the last one in the office?” I asked.
Brooke nodded.
“Thank you,” I said.
***
David and I headed over to Antonio’s, which was a popular restaurant with the bigwig businessmen of Treasure Cove.
It didn’t take long for David and me to spot Doug. He was sitting at a table with Seth Taylor of all people. Seth was the owner of a number of local car dealerships. He also owned the banquet hall where the secretive all-male, invite-only meetings had been taking place.
Seth had a way of standing out in a crowd. The six-foot-one, lean-bodied fifty-seven-year-old was decked out in his usual country western attire. Amazingly enough, he was even wearing a cowboy hat as he sat at a table inside the restaurant.
Doug Stevenson was a much more subtle man. The angular-faced forty-eight-year-old had short brown hair, hazel eyes and a tall, lean body. He wore a tailored, two-button Italian suit.
David and I approached Doug and Seth’s table.
“Well, well. Look who we have here,” David said.
Doug’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
Seth glared at David and me. “I know them.”
“Why don’t we join you?” David asked.
Seth sneered at David. “Why don’t you leave?”
David pulled out his police badge. “We need to get some questions answered first.”
Seth got up from the table. “I need to be getting back to my dealership.”
David waggled his pointer finger back and forth. “Not so fast, Mr. Taylor. You’re not going anywhere.”
“What’s this about?” Doug asked.
“We’ll get to that,” David said.
“You can’t keep me here,” Seth replied.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” David said.
“What makes you think you can hold me here?” Seth asked.
“How about the fact that we’re in the middle of a murder investigation?” David said.
Seth scrunched his nose. “Who was murdered?”
“A member of your secret society—Gregory Morton,” David said.
Seth threw his arms out. “I told you this before. I don’t know anything about a secret society.”
“You happen to be sitting across from one of the other members,” David said.
“We are discussing wealth management,” Doug replied.
“You can call your group whatever you want. A secret society. A business mixer group. The label doesn’t matter to me. The important part is what you discuss at the meetings you hold at your banquet hall,” David said.
“I thought you said you were here about a murder investigation,” Seth said.
“We are,” David replied.
“Then you’re wasting your time with me. I didn’t even know that Gregory was dead,” Seth said.
“Neither did I,” Doug added.
“That’s debatable. Now, we’re going to need to talk to both of you—separately,” David said.
Seth shot David a glare. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“We could do this here, or we can do this at the station. What do you say?” David asked.
Seth groaned. “When did this murder take place?”
“Last night,” David replied.
“I couldn’t have done it, then. I was at the dealership all night. Ask any of my employees,” Seth said.
“I will,” David replied.
Chapter Eleven
It was hard to take anything a car salesman said at face value. But when six different employees verified to David on the phone that Seth Taylor was at his car dealership at the time of the murder, David had no choice but to let Seth go.
Just because Seth had a rock-solid alibi didn’t mean that he was free of suspicion. As far as I was concerned, a cloud of mystery still hung over the car salesman. Even if I couldn’t prove anything. My suspicion about him only grew when I saw how quickly he left the table at the restaurant. Judging by the panicked look in his eyes, he couldn’t wait to get as far away from that place as possible.
Once Seth had made his way to the parking lot, David and I turned our focus back to Doug Stevenson.
“You keep some pretty interesting company,” David said.
Doug didn’t mince words. “I had nothing to do with Gregory’s murder.”
“That was an awfully quick denial,” David said.
“My time is too valuable to waste on small talk. Especially when I know exactly where the conversation is headed,” Doug replied.
“That being said, it’s not often that I am given an answer to a question that I haven’t even asked yet,” David said.
“Now you don’t even need to ask,” Doug replied.
“I’m afraid that’s not how it works,” David said.
“You let Seth go.”
“He has an alibi for the time of the murder. Do you?”
“This is ridiculous. I just told you that I didn’t have anyth
ing to do with Gregory’s death.”
“Prove it. Where were you last night between seven and eight o’clock?” David asked.
“I was at my office,” Doug replied.
“Was there anyone else in your office at the time who can verify that?”
“Everyone else had gone home for the night. But I’m telling you, I was there working well into the evening.”
“Mr. Stevenson, your word is only as good as your ability to back it up, which you can’t do.”
Doug exhaled. “If you refuse to take me at my word, then let me ask you this. What reason would I have to want Gregory Morton dead?”
“You tell us. After all, you were part of the same secret society,” David replied.
“Like Seth and I both told you before, we are not members of a secret society.”
David’s voice took on a mocking tone. “Right. You prefer to call your little group a business mixer club. Or whatever term you have for it.”
“Because that’s all it is. Just a group of men getting together talking business,” Doug said.
“In a very secretive fashion,” David replied. “But I won’t belabor that point anymore.”
“Good,” Doug said.
“Instead, I’d like to discuss what you and Gregory Morton were talking about in the parking lot outside his office yesterday morning.”
Doug squinted at David. “I don’t know what—”
David cut him off. “Don’t try to deny it. Scott O’Connor told us that he spotted you two talking in the parking lot.”
“So?” Doug asked. “Gregory and I had a discussion. I’m sure he spoke with a number of people throughout the morning and afternoon. Are you going to accuse everyone he had a conversation with yesterday of murder?”
“If that’s what it takes to find out who did this,” David replied.
Doug groaned. “You’re wasting your time.”
“So you say. What were you two talking about?”
“His investment portfolio.”
David crinkled his nose. “Isn’t a parking lot a strange place to discuss something like that?”
“He told me that he really needed to talk to me, but that he also had a very busy schedule. His office is on the way to my firm, so I made a quick stop to talk with him before he began his first appointment of the day,” Doug replied.
“Why did he want to speak with you so urgently? Was something wrong with his portfolio?” David asked.
“Not in my opinion,” Doug replied.
“What about Gregory’s opinion?” David asked.
“I believe in low-risk, long-term investment strategies.”
“And Gregory?”
“He had no problem taking big risks if it meant big rewards.”
“Sounds like you two didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye. I know how heated things can get when people argue about money,” David said.
“Detective, I do not argue about money,” Doug replied. “I am always very upfront about my investment philosophies. When my clients disagree with my approach, I have no problem with them taking their money elsewhere,” Doug replied.
I folded my arms. “There’s something I never expected to hear a wealth manager say.”
“What can I say? I’m not your average wealth manager,” Doug replied.
I gave him a critical stare. “Uh-huh.”
“I run a highly successful business. One that is not lacking in clients. I would rather let a few clients go than waste my time arguing with them,” Doug replied.
“So what did Gregory decide to do?” I asked.
“He was going to sleep on it,” Doug said.
“Did you talk to him later in the day?” I asked.
Doug shook his head. “No. I never heard from him again.”
“So that’s it? You finished talking about his portfolio and then just went about your day?” David asked.
“Like I told you before, I had no reason to want Gregory dead,” Doug replied.
“Unless he decided to take his business elsewhere,” I said.
“Weren’t you listening? With or without Gregory as a client, my business would be just fine,” Doug replied.
“At least that’s your take,” David replied. “I’ve never met someone with such a casual approach about clients.”
“How many people have you spoken to that are as successful as I am? Speaking of, I should be getting back to work. Are we done here?” Doug asked.
I winced as I ran my tongue across my teeth. “Before you go, do you happen to have a toothpick on you?”
Doug pointed at the hostess stand. “What are you asking me for? This is a restaurant. I’m sure they have plenty of toothpicks at the hostess stand.”
“That wasn’t my question. I was asking if you had any toothpicks,” I said.
He shook his head. “No. Now, are we done here?”
David stared Doug down for a moment, then let him go. As Doug headed back to his office, David and I drove toward the east side of town to question the next suspect on our list.
Chapter Twelve
Gavin Zeller lived on Oak Street, which was the line of demarcation between central Treasure Cove and the east side of town. Standing in front of Gavin’s apartment building was a strange experience. Central Treasure Cove was a family-friendly area with well-manicured lawns and plenty of foliage. The east side was nothing but ugly warehouses and low-rent apartment complexes.
Gavin lived in a south-facing end unit, which meant that he was in the unique position of being able to see both east and central Treasure Cove from his living room window. I couldn’t imagine how odd it would be to look to the left and see a bunch of warehouses then to look to the right and see a picture-postcard residential street.
Scenery aside, there were much more important things at play. Focusing on the view from Gavin’s apartment was nothing more than my mind’s way of trying to distract itself from the uncomfortable conversation that was ahead.
It was hard enough questioning a murder suspect. But when I actually knew the person who was under suspicion, things were infinitely more awkward.
Gavin Zeller wasn’t just a casual acquaintance. He was my friend Shannon Smith’s ex-boyfriend. A man who had recently made a play at winning Shannon’s heart back. That made questioning him about murder an awful proposition, but it had to be done.
It took two sets of knocks, but Gavin finally opened up his front door. The twenty-eight-year-old had stubble on the chin of his round face as he stood in the doorway of his apartment looking jittery. Adding to his generally messy demeanor was the fact that he was wearing an old, beat-up T-shirt and a pair of ripped blue jeans.
His physical appearance didn’t interest me nearly as much as the toothpick that I saw hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
Gavin looked wildly confused to see David and me on his doorstep. “What are you guys doing here?”
I ignored his question and threw one of my own at him. “What’s with the toothpick? Do you have something in your teeth?”
Gavin pulled the light-brown toothpick out of his mouth.
“I quit smoking a few days ago,” Gavin said. “I’m so used to having something in my mouth throughout the day that I started chewing on toothpicks as a substitute.”
“Do you happen to have any red toothpicks?” I asked.
Gavin shook his head. “No. Why?”
“I was curious,” I said.
“I have to say, I’m pretty curious myself. What are you two doing here?” Gavin asked.
“We need to talk to you,” I said.
Gavin squinted at me. “What about?”
“Gregory Morton,” I said.
A fire came to Gavin’s eyes. “Of all the people to bring up, you chose that scumbag.”
“Scumbag, huh? Don’t be shy about your opinions,” David deadpanned.
“I won’t. That man was a snake oil salesman.” Gavin sneered. “No. Worse, actually.”
David scrunched his nose. “Wors
e?”
“Yeah. At least snake oil doesn’t do crazy stuff to your brain. That sleaze ball Gregory Morton really messed with my head.”
“Is that what you told him yesterday on the phone when you called his office to tell him off?” I asked.
Gavin nodded. “The only reason I agreed to hypnosis in the first place was because he promised that he could fix me.”
“What else did he tell you?” I asked.
“That by the time he was done with me, I’d be able to win Shannon over.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. He told me he could make me so charming that she wouldn’t be able to resist me,” Gavin replied.
“Those are some pretty grand claims,” I said.
“Gregory had no shortage of confidence about his abilities,” Gavin replied.
“Were you shocked then when Shannon chose Joe over you?” I asked.
“I wasn’t just shocked. I was beside myself. Gregory had promised results. Not only did he not deliver on them, but I ended up having all these disturbing side effects,” Gavin said.
“Are you talking about the headaches?” I asked.
“Among other things,” Gavin said.
“What other things?” I asked.
“Look, what does it matter? The point is, I have decided to stop going to him.”
“The point is that you gave Gregory a serious earful yesterday on the phone,” I said.
“I don’t apologize for that. He deserved it. That man took a lot of my money based on a pack of lies. The way I see it, he should give me my money back,” Gavin said.
“But for a little while, at least, it seemed like his hypnotherapy sessions were really effective. Sure, you weren’t able to win Shannon over, but you did make a pretty big transformation,” I replied.
Gavin shook his head. “You just don’t get it.”
“Explain it to us, then,” I said.
“For the first month or so, everything seemed to be going really well. I felt energized. Reborn. Optimistic. Then the downward spiral began. I started getting intense headaches. I’d have these crazy dreams. Sometimes I’d have delusions while I was wide awake. I’d be walking down the street sometimes and felt like I could hear Gregory whispering in my ear. Only I was just imagining it all,” Gavin said. “It’s hard to explain, but I felt like I was losing my grip on my sanity.”
Daley Buzz Cozy Mystery Boxed Set Page 48