Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6

by William Manchee

CHAPTER 21

  THE HANGOVER

  After Stan left, depression engulfed me like a thick morning fog. No matter which direction I looked, I saw nothing but darkness. The burden of the trial had been challenging, but now with my arrest and possible trial for hit and run, I felt like I’d been hit by a jet ski and left to drown. All night I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Finally, just before dawn, I dozed off and didn’t wake up until after ten. When I saw the green fluorescent ten on my clock radio, I jumped out of bed.

  “Oh, no!” I said as I walked hurriedly toward the bathroom. Halfway there I felt faint and nearly collapsed. I grabbed the door jamb to steady myself. My head was pounding and my body felt like it had gained a hundred pounds overnight. I struggled to the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was pale and there were dark shadows under my eyes. Had I really drunk that much? Apparently so.

  After a hot shower, three aspirin, and some breakfast, I started to feel a little better. Then I remembered my blatant attempt to seduce Stan. He must think I’m a real slut. By noon I was sitting at my desk trying to get motivated for an afternoon of hard work. I opened my notebook and started reviewing my to do list. Laura Blair’s name popped out at me. She didn’t have a great alibi unless her baby learned how to talk soon. It was convenient that she was sick the day Bobby was murdered. She would have had access to his schedule and plans to seize Dusty’s tractor. I called Agent Hurst and found out the name of Laura’s friends. He knew of two of them, Rita Woods and Samantha Sams. Sams agreed to meet for a drink after work. We met at little sports bar in Addison. She was a short, attractive Asian woman in her late twenties. She insisted I call her Sam.

  “How long have you known Laura?” I asked.

  “Going on five years now. We started work at the IRS about the same time,” Sam said.

  “Do you two do things together socially?”

  “Sure. We go shopping sometimes and work out together at President’s.”

  “So, was Laura excited when she got pregnant?”

  “Not exactly. You know how having a baby can ruin your body.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that. So how did she cope with that?”

  “She took really good care of herself—didn’t eat too much, you know.”

  “Right. Was she excited when the baby came?”

  “Not exactly. You know being a single mom is a bitch.”

  My interview with Laura suddenly came back to me. She kept asking me if I needed a baby or wanted to take her baby home with me. She was joking, of course, but also expressing her unhappiness about being a mother.

  “Oh, yes. I can imagine. All that responsibility and no help from anyone.”

  “And being tied down all the time,” Sam added. “We used to do things together but after she had the baby she never had time anymore.”

  “What kind of things did you two do together?” I asked.

  “We were both aspiring actresses. We were active with the Metro Theater.”

  “Oh, really? Have you had roles in any of their plays?”

  “Laura did. She played the lead in the musical Oklahoma.”

  “Wow. Is she working in any productions now?”

  “No, she had to drop out on account of she couldn’t afford a babysitter.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Are you married?” I asked, wondering if there was more to their relationship than she had so far admitted.

  “No, haven’t found the right man yet.”

  I wasn’t cruel enough to ask if she was gay, although I was dying to know. I’d pose that question to Rita Woods. Rita agreed to have lunch with me the following day. We met at Steak and Ale across from Prestonwood Mall. She wore her naturally blond hair in a ponytail and I guessed she also worked out at President's. We got two margaritas before ordering lunch.

  “I’m trying to learn as much as I can about Bobby Tuttle and the people he worked with in order to get some insight into why he was murdered,” I said.

  “As far as I’m concerned they have the killer,” Rita replied.

  “Well, maybe, but we have to be absolutely sure. There are some questions I need to ask you.”

  “I can’t imagine that I’d have any useful information for you.”

  “Well, you just might, so I’d like to go ahead and ask them.

  “Sure. I’ll tell you whatever I know.”

  “Thank you. . . . Are you friends with Samantha too?”

  “Sure, we all hang out together.”

  “I take it you’re not married?”

  “No, divorced.”

  “Laura insists that Bobby wasn’t the father of her child, but I wonder if she’s being totally honest about that?”

  Rita hesitated and adjusted her chair. “How should I know?”

  “I’m sure you all must have talked about it.”

  “Yes, but not with Laura. Sam and I have discussed the possibility, but we have no proof.”

  “In talking to Sam I get the impression she is more than just a friend to Laura, am I right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is Sam in love with Laura?”

  “No. . . . Well, I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “How does Laura feel about it?”

  “I don’t see what this has to do with your—”

  “Right. It may not, but I’ve got to look at this thing from all angles. I’ll keep anything you tell me confidential.”

  “No, you won’t. I’m not your client. You’ll use it whenever it suits you. I think I’ve said enough.”

  It didn’t matter that Rita had cut the interview short. I had found out what I needed to know. Laura was obviously bisexual and had more than a casual relationship to Sam. That made Sam an official Class II suspect. She had motive but no direct knowledge of Tuttle’s schedule the day he died. As I continued to analyze the data I had gathered, the evidence pointing to Laura began to mount. Getting pregnant had destroyed all her dreams and aspirations of becoming a famous actress. True, she hadn’t made it yet, but most likely in her mind it was just a matter of time. After being raped and impregnated by someone she didn’t even like, she might have been angry enough to do something about it.

  When I got back to the office, I called Monty and asked him to add Rita and Sam to his list of background checks to be done. I was anxious to see if any of them drove a silver Mercedes. After I hung up the phone, Stan walked into my office.

  “Hi. How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” I said and then filled him in on my interviews with Sam and Rita.

  “Well, the more suspects you can dig up the better. Eventually we’ll have to focus on one or two of them though.”

  “My bet's on Laura,” I said.

  “Listen, the DA has assigned your case to Martin Silvey.”

  “Oh, no. He's a jerk.”

  “I got that feeling. He was totally unreasonable and indicated that he felt his witnesses were impeccable.”

  “Wonderful. So, now what?”

  “Next week we have to announce your plea. Then we’ll get ready for battle. In a day or two Monty should have the background checks completed on the two witnesses so we can figure out how to discredit them.”

  Before Stan showed up, I had been feeling better. Now with the news that my hit and run case wasn’t going to go away easily, depression blew over me again like a blue norther. I closed my notebook, cleaned off my desk, and dialed Bart’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  I said, “Hey, you want to get drunk tonight?”