I shook my head. “My disorder and I are off the table for now. And Mal’s identity has to remain a secret.”
“If I wanted to out your new boyfriend here, I would have done it already,” Clay grumbled.
“What about my part in it?”
Clay chewed on his lip, thinking. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll give you a week to show me what you and the group can do. Consider it a freebie. I won’t write about any of it unless you come up with something juicy. But if this Middleton case you’re looking at doesn’t pan out, then all bets are off.”
The shock hit me too fast, and I knew it showed on my face. “How did you know that was the case?” I asked him. “I haven’t mentioned it.”
“I sat in on the entire trial. And I recognized his sister when she came into the bar earlier and headed upstairs to your group. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to make the connection.” He paused and flashed a guileful smile. “Plus, I happen to know the Gallagher family. I went to Penn State with one of Tiffany Gallagher’s brothers.”
I realized how crafty and clever Clay Sanders was, how he had manipulated me by withholding information, even as I’d thought I was manipulating him. My reservations resurfaced, and once again I wondered if I was making a huge mistake. But his revelation about his connection to the Gallagher family convinced me to continue.
“We don’t know yet if there’s any merit to the case,” I asserted. “We haven’t had a chance to look into it at all. What’s your take on it?”
“I have my doubts. Benjamin Middleton seemed sincere to me, and there were some questions raised by the evidence that weren’t adequately answered. I’ve thought all along that Middleton might have gotten a bum rap. To be honest, I thought he was going to be acquitted.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “So do we have a deal?”
“Not yet. You know something about Gary Gunderson’s death that you’re not telling me. Why?”
“I know he didn’t deserve to die. And I also know that the last prison sentence he served was for a crime he didn’t commit. Beyond that, I don’t have anything else I can tell you.” I pursed my lips, metaphorically locking away anything else I had to say on the matter. I hoped he would interpret this as me saying I knew nothing else, rather than as me saying I wasn’t willing to share. In the end, I couldn’t tell. Clay Sanders might have been easy to read when it came to lies and truth, but beyond that the man was an enigma.
“Okay then,” he said. He got up, walked over to me, and extended his hand.
I took it and gave it a little shake, sealing the deal. His touch made me see a brief bright orange flash, like an explosion of flames, and I wondered if Cora was right.
Was I making a deal with the devil?
Chapter 9
The three of us ventured upstairs to the Capone Club room. To say that Clay’s entrance made an impression would be an understatement. Everyone in the room fell silent and gaped at the man, most with suspicious, angry expressions.
“What’s up, Mack?” Frank Signoriello said finally, breaking the silence.
“I’ve invited Mr. Sanders to join us and help out with the Middleton crime,” I said. “He has some resources that might be useful to us, and in return he has agreed to play fair with regard to what he publishes. Are all of you okay with that?”
Judging from the looks on their faces, they weren’t, but no one spoke up.
After waiting for what I considered a reasonable amount of time, I added, “For what it’s worth, Clay is up to speed on the case, and he shared with me that he thinks Benjamin Middleton might have been innocent. So let’s welcome him and see what we can find out, shall we?”
To the group’s credit, they all nodded and smiled at Clay, though many of those nods were tentative.
Sam patted an empty chair beside him and said, “Come and join us.”
Clay returned the smile and took the seat Sam had indicated. “Thanks for having me,” he said. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, I’ve known about your group for some time now, and I’m very curious to see what you do and how you do it.”
I settled in a chair at Cora’s table, ignoring the questioning look she shot me, and Mal grabbed an empty chair against the wall and brought it over next to mine. I looked at Clay and said, “Everyone here knows who you are, but you may not know everyone here. Part of the reason I think our group has been successful is because of the varied backgrounds represented by the membership.” I looked at the Signoriello brothers. “Frank, why don’t you start the introductions. Everyone, give your name and say a little about the background you bring to the group.”
Frank complied without missing a beat, and his brother Joe went next. From there, everyone in the group stated their name and offered up a bit of information about themselves—their jobs, their interests, how long they’d been with the group, that sort of thing.
Once the intros were done, I looked over at Cora and said, “Now that that’s out of the way, tell me what you guys have gleaned from the file Sandra Middleton gave us.”
Cora shuffled some of the papers she had next to her computer. “It’s mostly Sandra’s thoughts and observations,” she said. “There are some questions she raised about some of the testimony, mostly things she mentioned to us earlier, like why finding gunpowder residue on her brother’s hands, and his fingerprints on the gun, didn’t necessarily prove his guilt. She also has some background information on the man who claimed he sold the gun to Middleton two weeks before the incident, information I’ve verified myself. His name is John Harrington, and not surprisingly, he has a record, mostly drunk and disorderly types of things, although he also got caught shoplifting once. Given that, I’d say his reliability as a witness is questionable.”
Carter spoke up then and filled in some more blanks. “Sandra also wrote down some comments about the victim and her family. She thought the father-in-law’s testimony was pompous and one-sided, an obvious attempt to make Ben look like a money-grubbing wannabe. Apparently, Mr. Gallagher testified about some arguments Ben and Tiffany had had, and he made it sound like Ben was a selfish, abrasive jerk. Not surprisingly, Sandra noted that this wasn’t true. She also witnessed at least one of the arguments Gallagher mentioned and stated that it didn’t go down the way Gallagher claimed. According to her notes, she mentioned this to the defense attorney and asked to testify as to Ben’s true nature and what really happened, but the lawyer didn’t use her. According to the lawyer, anything Sandra said would be considered biased by the jury and would be dismissed because of her relationship to Ben.”
I looked over at Clay. “You said you sat in on the trial?”
“All of it,” he confirmed with a nod.
“What’s your take on Sandra’s claims?”
He thought a moment before he answered. “She’s right about one thing. Colin Gallagher can be a pompous ass, and I think the jury saw that. Unfortunately, they also saw him break down and cry over the loss of his little girl, and I think showing that human side of himself helped the jury to forget the rest. A lot of people expect the very rich to act a bit pompous and entitled, so I don’t think that aspect of Gallagher’s personality played against him the way it could have.”
I turned back to the group. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” Carter said. “She has some information about the seminal fluid found in Tiffany during the autopsy. If her notes are correct, the presence of the seminal fluid indicates Tiffany had sex not long before she was killed, but there were no sperm found, and apparently, that’s what contains the DNA.”
“No sperm?” I said with a puzzled look. “What does that mean?”
Clay answered. “According to the expert who testified, it means the person Tiffany had sex with was either sterile or had had a vasectomy.”
“Right,” Carter said, verifying this. “The lack of sperm means there was no DNA, but apparently, there were blood-typing antibodies found in the seminal fluid that ruled Ben out as the donor.”
> Clay nodded and said, “The prosecution used that to establish a motive for Ben, claiming he found out about the affair and was afraid Tiffany was going to leave him for someone else and take all her money with her.”
Cora arched her eyebrows. “As motives go, it’s a good one.”
I looked back at Clay. “What was your take on it?”
He pursed his lips and frowned. “It certainly was damning, but Ben Middleton seemed genuinely upset and surprised by the revelation that his wife had been unfaithful.”
“How long were they away on their trip?” Joe asked.
“Five days,” Carter answered.
Joe arched his eyebrows. “And she was killed when they were on their way home. Does anyone know how long seminal fluid can remain?”
“The expert said up to three days, assuming Tiffany hadn’t bathed,” Clay said. “But Ben testified that Tiffany had taken a bath the night before and the two of them didn’t have sex after that.”
“So that means her tryst must have happened during the last day they were there,” Joe said.
Again, Clay filled in some of the blanks. “Ben testified that he drove to a convenience store that morning to pick up some provisions because there had been a snowstorm during the night and there was a second, bigger one coming later that day. Because of the earlier storm, he said it took him nearly two hours to make a trip that should have taken half that long.”
“I’m guessing that’s our window of time, then,” I said.
Carter said, “It would be helpful to have access to the ME’s report. I wonder if Dr. T can pull her magic with their office again.”
When we were investigating the Lori Gruber case, Dr. T had contacted a friend of hers in the ME’s office to get copies of the autopsy reports on both Lori and Anna Hermann, the friend who was also killed. Though the summary reports were available to the public, the request process was time consuming, and it often took weeks to get the actual documents. Dr. T not only managed to expedite the process for us, but she also got her hands on more detailed information than was typically available.
Unfortunately, Dr. T wasn’t present at the moment. Unlike most of the others in the group, her schedule wasn’t a Monday through Friday thing. She was working twelve-hour shifts, from eleven in the morning until eleven in the evening on the weekend, which meant we likely wouldn’t see her until Monday.
I said this to the group, mostly for the benefit of Clay and the newcomers, since the regulars already knew Dr. T’s schedule. And once again Clay proved his value to the group.
“I can get you the ME’s report. I have a copy of the one that was presented at the trial. I’ll bring it tomorrow, if that helps.”
“It would,” I said, and others in the room nodded their agreement. While he would still have to prove his trustworthiness to the group over time, I could tell his resourcefulness was starting to win several of them over.
“Do we know who the other man was?” I asked.
Clay shook his head. “No one was presented as such, so I can only assume that neither the prosecution nor the defense knew who it was. I suppose it’s possible the prosecution knew and didn’t want to put the name forth, because it would only muddy the waters by providing another viable suspect and creating reasonable doubt, but if that’s the case, they’ll never admit to it. It would land them in a lot of hot water if they got caught hiding or suppressing evidence.”
“Well, figuring out who the mystery man might be is a starting point,” Holly said. “Though I’m not sure how we can go about it. If the legal teams, with all their resources, couldn’t come up with it, I don’t know how we can.”
I nudged Cora. “If we could find a way to get ahold of Tiffany’s computer or phone, do you think you could dig something up?”
“It’s possible,” she said with a halfhearted nod. “But how are you going to get them? I imagine they’re logged in as evidence somewhere.”
“I’m sure the defense team is working on appeals,” I said. “They’d be able to request the evidence, wouldn’t they? Maybe we should talk with them and let them know we’re trying to exonerate their client.”
Clay shook his head. “Except anything Cora found would not only be inadmissible, but it would likely also be considered evidence tampering. And that would jeopardize the appeals process.” He paused and shook his head again. “They’ll never go for it.”
I looked around at the group members. All of them were wearing thoughtful expressions as they pondered the problem, and I had faith in their brainstorming abilities. Then Alicia proved me right.
“You know, we women tend to have confidantes,” she said, looking over at Holly and smiling. “We need to find out who Tiffany’s confidantes were and talk to them. If she was having an affair, a confidante would know.”
“Good idea,” Joe said, slapping his thigh.
Cora started tapping on her keyboard. “Maybe I can get some ideas by taking a look at Tiffany’s social media. I’ll see what I can find.”
“Did she work anywhere?” Carter asked. “Coworkers often become confidantes.”
“They sometimes become secret lovers, too,” Sam added, bringing his psychological knowledge to the mix.
Clay said, “She didn’t need to work. Her family money saw to that. She did do some volunteer work, though she dropped it several months before she was killed. Maybe she met someone there.”
“It’s worth looking into,” Carter said. “Do you know where it was?”
Clay nodded. “She volunteered at a local animal shelter.” He then provided the name of the place.
“So how should we divvy up the duties?” Carter asked of no one in particular.
One of the newer members, high school physics teacher Stephen McGregor, said, “If someone can get me any information about the car and the bullet trajectories, I can take a look at them to see if the physics fit with Middleton’s story.”
I glanced over at Clay with a questioning look. “Did they present any information along those lines at the trial?”
He nodded. “They did, and the trial was televised. There should be footage showing the original evidence and displays. I know someone who worked on it. I’ll see if I can get a copy.”
“Thanks, Clay,” I said, thinking the devil might prove to be a valuable team member, after all. “I plan on heading up to the Waupun Correctional Institution tomorrow to have a chat with Ben Middleton, if it can be arranged, but I haven’t spoken to Tyrese yet, so I’m not sure if that plan will fall into place. If I can’t do it tomorrow, I’ll get to it as soon as I can.”
“Who is Tyrese?” Clay asked.
“He’s a local cop and a member of this group,” I said. “He helps us out when he can with stuff he feels comfortable doing.”
Clay nodded thoughtfully. A silence fell over the group as the conversation stalled.
Joe Signoriello finally broke it by asking, “Did our victim have any life insurance?”
“She did,” Clay said. “She and Ben were both insured for two hundred grand apiece, and that alone would be motive enough for most people. But Tiffany had access to a lot more money than that between her trust fund and the family money.”
“Did Ben have ready access to any of that money?” Carter asked.
“Not sure,” Clay said.
I made a mental note to ask Tad Amundsen if he could shed any light on this question. Given that the vast majority of his clients were Milwaukee’s rich and elite, there was a chance he might have access to information about the Gallagher family finances.
“What did Ben do for a living?” I asked.
“He was a lawyer,” Clay said with an ironic smile. “But he specialized in contract and business law, not criminal law.”
Sam said, “Someone should chat with his coworkers and see if he ever talked to anyone about his marital issues.”
Holly volunteered. “I know the group he worked for,” she said. “In fact, I met Ben Middleton once. His firm does work for our b
ank. If you want, I can try to contact some of the other lawyers in the group to see if they know anything.”
“You’re on,” I told her. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearly five already. “I need to call Tyrese to see if I can get to the prison tomorrow. You guys keep looking over the info we have and see if there are any other avenues of investigation we can look into.”
With that, I got up and commandeered my crutches to leave the room. Mal followed behind me. So did Clay Sanders.
“Mack,” Clay said in the hallway outside the room. “Any chance I can come with you when you go to Waupun?”
I frowned at this, uncomfortable with his request. I came up with the first excuse I could think of. “The fewer distractions I have, the easier it is for me to assess someone I’m talking to.”
“I promise to sit on the sidelines and stay quiet. I won’t say a thing.”
Mal stood off to one side, behind Clay. He caught my eye and shook his head.
“Even so, Clay,” I went on, “you’ll be a distraction for me, and that may interfere with things.” I didn’t think this was true—at least from my end—but it was the only excuse I could come up with on the fly. “Besides, Middleton might not be comfortable speaking to me if he knows there is a reporter in the room.”
“You don’t have to tell him I’m a reporter. And I’ll keep the whole thing strictly off the record. I promise.” Clay was nothing if not persistent, a trait I figured was useful for an investigative reporter but was irritating for me. “I just want to see you do this thing you do with someone other than me.”
I looked at him, weighing both his words and his conviction. He seemed sincere, both in his statement of why he wanted to come along and his promise to keep it off the record. I felt myself caving but then thought of one last possible escape, something to at least buy me a little time to think about the potential consequences. “I need to run it by Tyrese,” I told him. “He has to be comfortable with it.”
Shots in the Dark Page 8