by Ted Clifton
“The Boston bank gave me a certified letter from them stating that the money belonged to Jeffery and that I was legally taking the cash to him for non-criminal purposes. There were all sorts of contacts listed, including the bank’s attorney. When I boarded in Boston they seemed very comfortable with the letter’s authenticity and hardly questioned me at all.”
“Did he tell you what kind of trouble he was in?”
“You know, Tony, I think you must be a good prosecutor. You sure know how to ask questions.” She gave him a very engaging smile.
“Well yeah, I guess asking questions is sort of a reflexive reaction on my part. Gathering facts about crimes is a big part of what I do—I’m sorry if the questions feel out of line.”
“Oh no, I wasn’t saying that—please ask whatever you want.”
“When he said he was in trouble, did he give you any information about what the trouble was?”
“No. However, knowing Jeffery, my guess would be sex. He was a very active homosexual with way too many partners. I know he’d used money before to buy off boyfriends who became troublesome. I’d guess it had something to do with his love life or his drug habits.”
“He had a penthouse in Houston?”
“Yes. He lived at The Montgomery in the River Oaks area—a thirtieth-floor penthouse. He also had a house in Boston, but over the last few years he seemed to favor Houston. He was a principal owner and director of Fox Petroleum and was active in the management of the company. He also enjoyed the social life of Houston more than Boston—plus his parents lived in Boston and never visited Houston, so he didn’t have to worry about running into them at some restaurant or other place.”
“So you went to his penthouse to give him the money—how did you get in?”
“I had a key. I’d stayed with him some last summer, just to get away for a while, and I still had the key. I let myself in and called out to him. There was no answer, so I went into what had been my bedroom and deposited the small carry-on I’d brought. I went into the kitchen and got a drink of water and just started looking around to see if there was anyone there. I saw him out on the balcony lying on a lounge chair. I was pretty sure immediately that he was dead. I panicked and ran out onto the balcony. As I got closer, there was no question—he was definitely dead. Maybe for a day or so. I felt sick, so I went into a small bathroom off the kitchen. Afterwards I cleaned myself up a bit and washed my face. I was shaking and not sure what to do. I didn’t want to see him like that again, so I just left.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“At first it was just that I was so upset. I had to get out of there. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to escape the ugliness. Maybe I was thinking there was something wrong and someone had killed him and if I stayed the police would accuse me, or the killer would kill me—I don’t honestly know exactly what was going on in my head. I just wanted to run away.”
“So you left your bag in the room?”
“Yes. After I wandered around a while, I remembered that there was another address where I used to send him some of his packages when they came to my apartment in Boston. I’d asked him about why he was receiving mail at my apartment, and why I wasn’t mailing it to his address in Houston. He just said in a joking way that it was secret spy stuff—never directly answered my question. I’d assumed it was his boyfriend’s address, but I really had no idea. I found a cab and went to the address. As soon as I got out of the cab I knew it wasn’t an area of town Jeffery would ever go to. By that point I was dazed and not thinking straight at all. I just sat down on the curb and started crying. After a while some guys came up and started harassing me. Then, out of the blue, some cops came along and gave the guys a rough time. After they’d run them off they started asking me questions, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at all. They must have decided I was down there to buy drugs or something—maybe they thought I was on something right then. They asked if they could search my purse and I just handed it to them. I’d forgotten all about the money. There were two stacks of hundred-dollar bills about six inches high. They just stared at the inside of my purse like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. At that point I had no idea what was happening—I was having trouble focusing on what was going on. They put me in their patrol car and took me to a field police station, and that’s where I met you.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I’m at the Hyatt Regency, just a couple blocks from here.”
“Kate, there’s some chance that I’m a complete fool, but I believe what you’ve told me. While you’ll probably be a suspect, it won’t be for long. If what you’ve said is correct, you weren’t even in town when Jeffery died. You came in that morning and, based on what you saw, it sounds like he might have died the night before. The coroner will be able to establish the time of death within a few hours, and if you were in Boston or on the plane at the time then you couldn’t have killed him. I think the investigators will be very interested in learning what you’ve told me about Jeffery—it suggests that he may have been involved in drug dealing at some level or another—and that’s probably what got him killed.”
“I hope you are right. I kept waiting for something to happen, for someone to call or something, but as of yet no one has contacted me or my lawyer.”
“Any chance the body hasn’t been found?”
“No. It’s been three days. He had a cleaning service, and someone would have reported him missing after that long anyway.”
“Let me make a call. I’ll be right back.”
Tony left the bar and found a phone. He placed a call to Sergeant Nelson and asked him if there was an investigation in progress related to a body found at the Montgomery in River Oaks. When he got off the phone he returned to the bar area.
“Kate, there’s no investigation because the body hasn’t been found. I asked the sergeant to send someone over there and see if there is actually a body in the penthouse, but as of right now there’s no investigation because nothing’s been reported.”
“Oh my god. Could he still be on the balcony? That doesn’t make any sense. I know he has a cleaning service that comes in at least three times a week. I can’t believe this.”
“Would you like to have dinner?” It had sounded sensible in his head, but stupid when it came out of his mouth.
“Tony, could you take me back to my hotel. I think I just want to lie down a minute, but could you possibly stay for a while?”
They walked slowly to the Hyatt. Tony commented on the beautiful cool evening, which was unusual for Houston, but mostly they just walked quietly. At the hotel, they went to her room. It was a large suite with an impressive view of Houston and the suburbs. Kate went into the bathroom. Tony found the phone and called Sergeant Nelson. After getting the information he needed, he went over to the small bar and fixed a drink.
Kate was gone for some time and Tony became worried. She came back into the room wearing a robe, barefoot. Tony suddenly felt light-headed.
“Sorry that took so long. I needed a little time to compose myself. Did you find out anything else?”
“Yes. A patrol car went to Jeffery’s apartment. A person answered the door and said he was a friend of Jeffery’s and that Jeffery had gone to Boston. He let them look around the apartment, but they found nothing.”
“Oh my god. What does that mean? He was dead. Fuck. He was dead. What’s going on?”
Tony got up and walked over to Kate and held her. She began to cry uncontrollably and he continued to hold her. She looked up at him and he was amazed at how beautiful she was. She kissed him.
Tony and Kate
“Tony, what the hell is going on? I told you how important this meeting was and you show up forty-five minutes late? Son-of-a-bitch, Tony.” He was getting one of those looks from his boss—the kind that no employee wants to experience.
“Bill, I’m so sorry. I got involved in something last night that made me late this morning. Are they still here? I’m ready f
or the meeting.”
“Well, shit—they left. But it wasn’t because of you. Brewster’s attorney is an idiot, and I guess I told him so. That’s why I needed you here, Tony—you know I have no diplomacy. Shit, what a mess. He called me a moron and I called him an idiot. Maybe you could call him in a little bit and see if you can be the peacemaker and get this back on track. I’m ready for this case to be gone.”
“Sure I can, Bill. I’ll call him in about an hour and we’ll get this fixed.”
Bill didn’t look happy. He headed back into his office and slammed the door. Tony turned and headed to his own office—he had a silly smile on his face.
Tony had taken Kate down to the sub-station she had been transported to after her arrest. He’d convinced her that she needed to make a statement to the police and file a missing person report. He told her the downtown sub-station would be easiest, and that the statement could be taken by Sergeant Nelson, whom Tony had already called.
After their night together, Tony couldn’t take his eyes off of Kate. He was so in love, it hurt. Once she had completed her statement she was supposed to call so he could pick her up and take her back to the hotel. After two hours, he went to find her.
“Hey, Sergeant. Did Ms. Martin leave?”
“Yep, about half hour ago. Said she was walking back to her hotel. Tony, she’s kind of a strange lady. One minute everything was fine and then in the middle of her statement she seemed to lose it. Not sure what is going on with you and her but take it from an old fart, be careful.”
Just what Tony needed—advice from a dumb sergeant.
“What do you think, Nelson? Has a crime been committed?”
“Well, I can tell you something isn’t right. Too much smoke not to be a fire somewhere. Jeffrey Parker isn’t exactly a homeless guy—once I put out bulletins with his name, I got numerous calls. Apparently the ‘important person’ alarms bells went off somewhere. Detective Benson called ten minutes after I finished my paperwork and wanted information. Our resident star cop doesn’t deal with any cases except the most important, so my guess right now is this is much bigger than we knew. That could also mean that we’ve both stepped into a big pile of horseshit.”
Tony grimaced. Detective Benson was the police chief’s special attack dog—and to be avoided at all costs.
“Son of a bitch, Tony. Is this your week for one fuckup after another? My phone hasn’t stopped ringing. The police chief wants to know why one of my Assistant DA’s is fucking the top suspect in a murder. What the fuck, Tony? I’m about to have a fucking heart attack here.”
The DA’s face was turning an alarming shade of red. If Tony hadn’t seen it before he’d have been dialing nine-one-one. How had such a high strung person managed to become DA? On the other hand, he had every right to be yelling, spitting, and turning ugly shades of red over Tony’s behavior. Just a few days before Tony had thought about the fact that everything was orderly: his life, his work, his brain. Today it was all mush.
“This pushy asshole, Detective Benson, is on his way over here to talk to you. What a piece of shit. He told me—I’m the goddamned DA—to have you available in a half an hour. He’s bossing me around—what an asshole.”
“Bill, please try to calm down. I may have screwed up—if I have, so be it. It has nothing to do with you or your department. All of the shit will fall on my head, nowhere else. I’m sorry you’re taking crap for my actions. I’ll talk to this guy and it’ll be okay. I may have used poor judgement, but Bill, I haven’t committed any crime. Worst case for you is that you fire me and I go away. I’m sorry.”
Bill seemed to calm down. He and Tony had become friends, and Tony knew that was the real reason he was so upset. The internal politics would be difficult, but Bill was a survivor and he’d come out okay—Tony might not.
“Sir, there’s a Detective Benson here demanding to see Mr. Garcia.”
“I’m going to tell you right now,” Bill said, “it sounds like you’ve screwed the pooch. At this point I haven’t thought too much about what sort of crimes you could be charged with, but there’s no question your career just went into the toilet.”
Detective Benson entered the room. An old-school cop, part enforcer and part philosopher, he had been on the Houston force for as long as anyone could remember. He did one thing in life and only one thing—enforce the law. No exceptions—everyone was treated the same way, mostly bad. He began demanding answers without preamble, making it clear that this was a serious problem for Tony.
“I understand, Detective Benson. How can I help you?”
“Well, at least your attitude is right. I need to know what’s going on. What’s happening between you and Kate Martin? I need to know everything you know about Jeffery Peterson. Tell me your story.”
Tony obliged. He told the detective everything, including the lovemaking. He’d decided that the only way out of this mess was to tell the whole truth. He hoped that it wouldn’t harm Kate, but all he could do was to be candid and then help her in any way he could.
“Well, son, it’s been a long time since my dick overrode my brain, but I’m not unsympathetic. My advice to you is to run like hell from Ms. Martin. I’ll also tell you that if I find you interfering in my investigation, you’re at risk of losing that dick—understand?”
“Yes.” Understand? What kind of stupid question was that—he was in the middle of a shit-storm and had no idea how to get out. Of course he understood. But he was in love. He had to find Kate and decide what to do. No doubt he was going to lose his job—everything he’d worked for—but it was strangely okay with him.
Tony went to the Hyatt, but Kate didn’t answer his call. He hadn’t got a key from her, and he was reluctant to use his authority to get the hotel to open the room. He sure the hell didn’t want to have another encounter with Benson. He went back to his office and shut the door, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. He’d always been overly attracted to women. He thought about Vickie. He hoped she was happy. He was starting to feel exhausted—the emotions were taking a toll.
“Mr. Garcia, Ms. Martin is on line two. Do you want to take the call?”
Tony ignored the question, grabbed the phone, and hit line two.
“Where are you?”
“Sorry, Tony. I just had to get away for some time and think.”
“We need to talk. Can you meet me at the same bar in about thirty minutes?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
Sitting on the same barstool as his last visit, Tony gulped a gin and tonic and ordered another one. His mood was bouncing all over the place, from joy to anger to fear. He was fairly certain nothing was going to be the same—his nicely ordered life was going to change.
Kate leaned in and gave him a kiss on his cheek. She took the barstool next to his. Her aroma was intoxicating. He looked at her—he wanted to just stare at her.
“You’re looking a little pale, Tony. Are you feeling okay?”
He almost wanted to laugh. She seemed so composed and he was falling apart.
“They haven’t found a body or any evidence of a crime at Jeffery’s apartment. They also didn’t find your bag or any evidence that you’d been there. But all hell is breaking loose because he’s missing. Apparently your fiancé was a big political supporter—lots of money contributed to campaigns—so all of those politicians are up in arms, trying to figure out if this is something that can hurt them. They’ve assigned a bulldog homicide detective to the case, and he’s in the process of looking for somebody to blame for whatever in the fuck actually happened—starting with me.”
“Oh, Tony, I’m so sorry. You need to distance yourself from me right away.”
“Will you marry me?”
Kate looked stunned. She looked away, a move the bartender interpreted as wanting to order, so she asked for a white wine. She seemed lost in thought. Tony waited.
“Tony, I’d love nothing more, but I can’t do that to you. You know nothing about me. I’m a complete
mess. I have been in and out of therapy my whole life, and I’m still screwed up. The last thing in the world you want is to be married to me.”
“Kate, I love you. Will you please marry me?”
“Well, since you said please, I guess I will.”
Kate was smiling in a wonderful, knee-buckling way. Tony turned and they embraced, to the delight of the sparsely populated bar.
The next few days went by in a whirlwind. Tony resigned, shocking everyone who knew him and creating some wonderfully vile rumors about love and murder. Detective Benson threatened him with all sorts of consequences and Tony told him to bring them on or shut the fuck up. After a few days of this type of exchange it became clear that leaving Dodge—or, in this case, Houston—might be a good idea.
Tony spent several days working the phones with contacts in the legal community and some people he knew from school. One of his professors from OU told him he knew of an opportunity in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Tony had no idea where that was, which made it sound perfect. The professor called his contact and enthusiastically recommended Tony.
The Dona Ana County Administrator reached out to Tony and offered him the job as County Attorney at about half of what he was making in Houston. Tony said yes. Tony Garcia realized that they probably thought he spoke Spanish, which he didn’t. They probably thought he’d have top-notch references, which he wouldn’t. Tony decided whatever happened, he’d be fine.
Tony and Kate were married in Galveston in a civil ceremony with random passers-by for witnesses—and they couldn’t have been happier. Kate told her father, and he gave his blessing. His health kept him from traveling, but he said he was anxious to meet Tony. He had a ridiculous amount of money transferred to their new joint checking account as a wedding present, leaving Tony speechless. Kate said it was actually very small, considering her father’s wealth, which left him beyond speechlessness.
Tony’s father had died and his mother was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. He talked to her from time to time, but she didn’t know him. He felt guilty for not having been a better son.