A TWISTED MIND (Clean Suspense) (Detective Jason Strong Book 21)

by John C. Dalglish

  Jason grabbed a seat. “Yes, sir.”

  Vanessa joined him. “Actually, shot fired, singular.”

  Savage leaned back in his chair. “Okay, last I knew there was a threatening note. Fill me in.”

  Jason went over everything.

  Savage grimaced and let out a low grunt. “I don’t like it.”

  “The suicide?”

  “Not specifically. Just the whole thing. It feels off, as if we’re missing something.”

  Vanessa smirked. “Well, yeah. A crime.”

  Jason laughed. “Exactly. So far, we have no evidence that anything criminal happened to Janet Ellard. We’re spinning our wheels.”

  Savage nodded. “Okay, but suppose Mrs. Ellard was murdered. What would be your next step?”

  “Well, since we don’t have a solid suspect, I would probably try to find a motive.”

  Savage rocked forward in his chair. “Do it. Let’s make sure we aren’t caught with our pants down if this thing gets turned on its head. How would you suggest going about it?”

  Jason shrugged. “The usual. Phone records, financial records.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Vanessa arched her brow. “Ooo-kay then.”

  Savage met her gaze. “Humor me, Detective.”

  “I always do, sir.”

  “What was that?”

  “I said you’re always right, sir.”

  Savage smirked and pointed at the door. “Get out.”

  They beat a hasty retreat. Jason grinned at his partner. “You’re lucky he is still in a good mood from you returning.”

  She smiled back. “I wonder how much longer it will last.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t try to find out.”

  Chapter 7

  Jason and Vanessa spent the next two hours preparing warrants for Janet and Dale Ellard’s financial records, as well as both of their phone records. The only interruption was from Doc Josie to inform them that the almond milk had tested as just that—almond milk. No foreign substances. Vanessa went to hand in the warrants just as Jason’s phone rang.

  “Homicide. Detective Strong.”

  “Jason, it’s Noah Hatcher.”

  “Hey, Noah. Learn something new?”

  “I finished studying the tissue samples from Janet Ellard. Unfortunately, they just support the conclusions already made. The manner of death will remain undetermined until something comes forward to change it.”

  “As you suspected.”

  “Yes. It also means I’ll need to release the body since there is no longer a need for an official investigation.”

  “We’re still looking into it though.”

  “I understand, but that doesn’t change things on my end.”

  “Can you stall?”

  Noah sighed. “Well, I haven’t heard from the family or a funeral home. I guess I can wait for one of the two parties to request the body rather than calling them, but that’s about it.”

  “That’ll work.”

  “But even that is temporary. I can’t hold on to the remains indefinitely.”

  “Understood.” Noah was becoming more and more like his predecessor every day—good news to Jason. As a detective, you needed a medical examiner that would work with you. “Let us know if you hear from anyone.”

  “Will do. But there’s something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I got a call this morning from a State Farm Insurance agent. She was inquiring about a death certificate for Mrs. Ellard.”

  Jason glanced up to find Vanessa watching him. He furrowed his brow. “Interesting. She say who filed the claim?”

  “No, and not being a detective, I didn’t ask.”

  Jason laughed. “Touché.”

  “I did, however, get her information.”

  “Excellent.” Jason slid a notepad toward him and clicked his pen. “Shoot when you’re ready.”

  “Danielle Vaughn, four-o-five Saint Mary’s Street, suite ten.”

  Jason scribbled it down, followed by the phone number Noah fed him. Vanessa came back to her desk, so Jason tore the paper loose and slid it across to her.

  “Thanks, Noah. I appreciate the help.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Bye.” Jason hung up and waited on Vanessa to finish her search on the address.

  She read it off without looking up. “It’s in the Travis Building downtown. You want to call?”

  Jason glanced at the time. “It’s not far. Let’s drop in.”

  “Sounds good.”

  *******

  The Travis Building was a ten-story office building that sat adjacent to the famous San Antonio Riverwalk. Built in 1924, it faced Saint Mary’s Street, one of the few roads in the city to be paved with bricks laid in a crosshatch pattern, giving it a distinct historical feel. In recent years, the upper offices had been converted to high-end apartments, with commercial establishments inhabiting the ground floor. Danielle Vaughn Insurance was one of the those businesses.

  The exterior of Vaughn’s office had floor to ceiling glass that faced the street, and a wide red stripe ran across the top of the windows with the familiar State Farm logo emblazoned beneath.

  Jason and Vanessa left their vehicle in the attached parking garage and walked to the classic arched wood front doors. A doorman greeted them and swung one of the doors wide. Inside, they turned immediately right and entered the State Farm office.

  A pleasant looking young woman in her mid-twenties with dark hair and dark skin, looked up from a large wood desk and smiled. “Can I help you?”

  Vanessa stepped forward. “We’d like to speak with Miss Vaughn. Is she in?”

  “She’s on a call at the moment. Can I tell her who wants to see her?”

  Vanessa produced her badge. “We’re detectives with the San Antonio Police Department.”

  Surprise showed on the lady’s face, but she remained unflustered. “Very well. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  “Thank you.”

  While Jason and Vanessa stood looking out the windows at the street, the receptionist disappeared into one of the offices. She returned moments later.

  “Miss Vaughn can see you now.”

  Vanessa nodded. “Thank you.”

  She and Jason went through the now open door to a large office with more glass looking out on the street. The late day sun shone brightly on the blinds, providing plenty of light despite the fact they were drawn tight.

  A tanned and fit-looking woman in her mid-to-late forties, with bright blue eyes and close-cropped black hair, rose from her seat. She came around the desk and extended a hand. “I’m Danielle Vaughn. Chloe said you needed to speak with me.”

  Vanessa shook hands with her, noting the unusually strong grip that matched hers. “Yes. As I imagine your receptionist told you, we’re with San Antonio PD.”

  “She did. What can I do for you?”

  “We understand you have a policy on a Janet Ellard.”

  “That’s right. I actually have one on both Janet and Dale.”

  “Were they joint?”

  “No. The policies were set up to protect their practice should one of them pass away.”

  Jason took out his notepad. “May I ask how much they were worth?”

  “I’m sorry, but some of the information is privileged. You’ll need Mr. Ellard’s permission or a warrant. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I have to be careful.”

  “Can you ball park it for us?”

  She paused. “Let me say this. Policies of this nature typically range from two hundred fifty thousand and up.”

  Jason and Vanessa exchanged intrigued looks. “Is it normal for a business like theirs to have such a policy?”

  “Yes, it’s a fairly common set-up.”

  “What about the amount? How is that determined? Did Mr. and Mrs. Ellard just specify an amount?”

  “No. These sorts of polices are based on the value of the entity being insured. I wo
uld say the amount they chose was reasonable for their needs.”

  “How long have the policies been in place?”

  “Several years now.”

  “Could you define ‘several’?”

  Vaughn went around her desk and picked up a pair of reading glasses, which she held in front of her eyes as she read a document. “Let’s see. Four years this month.”

  “We understood a claim has been placed. Can you tell us by who?”

  “I received a call from Natasha Ellard on behalf of her father.”

  Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “When did she call you?”

  “About this time yesterday.”

  “Is the policy payable in case of a suicide?”

  Vaughn nodded. “It is. I was not aware that suicide was under consideration as the manner of death.”

  “The manner remains undetermined. Is State Farm prepared to pay out?”

  “Not without a death certificate.”

  Jason put away his pad. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Of course.”

  Jason and Vanessa left the office and headed back to their car. Once on the street, Jason wondered aloud. “What do you make of Natasha being the one to make the claim?”

  Vanessa shrugged. “It’s not uncommon for someone to step in and handle the difficult chores around the death of a loved one.”

  “Wait a second. What happened to your normally suspicious mind? My first thought was she might have an ulterior motive.”

  “That’s fair, but…”

  “I think your impending wedding is making you soft. Love will do that, you know.”

  She laughed. “Oh, so you think I’ve gone soft? Wait until you try to renege on your Stumpy’s promise. Then we’ll see how soft I’ve become.”

  He smirked. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  *******

  Back at the precinct, Vanessa found the number for Natasha Ellard and dialed it. She put the call on speaker.

  “Hello?”

  The male voice was not what Vanessa expected. “Natasha Ellard, please.”

  “She’s not here.”

  “Is this her cellphone?”

  “Yes, but she’s not here.”

  “Is this Robert Davis?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When will Miss Ellard be back?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll tell her you called.”

  The line went dead. Jason didn’t like it. “Dial again.”

  Vanessa did.

  “Hello?”

  This time the voice was female. Vanessa exchanged a wary look with Jason. “Natasha Ellard?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “Detective Layne. I’m here with Detective Strong. Did you just get home?”

  “No. I’ve been here all afternoon.”

  “Mr. Davis just told us you were out.”

  The line became muffled as Natasha apparently covered the receiver. The occasional four-letter word leaked through. After thirty seconds, Natasha came back on.

  “I apologize for that. I was in the bathroom.”

  Jason noted considerably less chill in her tone than the day before. He kept a friendly sound to his own voice. “We just have a few questions if you don’t mind. It won’t take long.”

  “Okay.”

  “We received word that you had called State Farm about your mom’s life insurance.”

  “That’s right. My dad asked me to handle it while he was out of town.”

  Surprise played across Vanessa’s face that matched his own reaction. “Mr. Ellard is out of town?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the funeral?”

  “We haven’t made those plans yet,” Some of the iciness returned. “Being as you people are still holding my mother’s body hostage.”

  Jason considered smoothing the waters by telling her that she could have her mother’s remains, but he didn’t want to give up his hole card yet. “Where did your father go?”

  “Austin.”

  “Another trial?”

  “No, he’s visiting a friend.”

  Vanessa slid a note in front of him. She’s being evasive.

  He nodded. “Who is this friend, Natasha?”

  A long hesitation followed. “Elaine Smith.”

  “Who is Elaine Smith, Natasha?”

  “She’s a longtime friend of Mom and Dad’s. She recently lost her husband. Dad had helped her cope by doing things around the house.”

  “How long has Dale been helping out?”

  “Elaine’s husband died about three months ago.”

  Jason found the coincidence troubling. “Your mother was aware of this, I suppose.”

  “Yes. The relationship is perfectly innocent. Dad wouldn’t cheat on Mom. I know that for a fact.”

  Jason found himself lost for his next question. It seemed both stunning and odd that Dale Ellard would visit a widow just days after losing his own wife, and he wondered what the circumstances surrounding Mr. Smith’s death might have been.

  Vanessa was not similarly affected. “You have to know this looks bad for your father, Natasha.”

  “I don’t care how it looks! He’s going through a lot, and I’m not going to tell him what to do.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back in town?”

  “Tomorrow I believe.”

  “So, he’s spending the night?”

  “In a hotel! Ask him yourself!”

  The line went dead.

  Jason grimaced. “Okay, I will.”

  He dialed Dale Ellard’s number. “I’m not accepting a platonic relationship between Dale Ellard and Elaine Smith based on Natasha’s word.”

  “If the relationship is more than friends, that could be a motive for murder.”

  Jason nodded and listened to the phone ring. It again went to voicemail. He hung up. “I’m beginning to agree with the lieutenant. Something is way off with this bunch.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  He glanced at his watch. 6:37. “The phone records and financials haven’t shown up, so we might as well get some rest.”

  Vanessa stretched her arms toward the ceiling and let out a howling yawn. “Good idea.”

  “Drop you at home?”

  “Yes, please. Mom is making Kasen his favorite dinner—spaghetti and meatballs. I could use some of her home cooking myself.”

  “What about Brad? He like your mom’s meatballs as well?”

  “Brad loves everything my mother cooks. I’ll never be able to measure up.”

  Jason smiled. “I suspect you’ll do just fine.”

  She laughed. “Oh, sure. I can order pizza with the best of them!”

  He rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, both the financial records and the phone records were waiting for Jason. Jason tossed the phone records on Vanessa’s desk, scooped up the financials, and headed for the conference room.

  “Where you going?”

  He turned to see Vanessa getting off the elevator. “Coffee machine then conference room.”

  “What ya’ got there?”

  “The Ellard’s financial records.”

  “What about the phone records?”

  “On your desk.”

  “My desk?”

  “Yes, your desk. I put them there.”

  “You want me to look them over while you do the financials?”

  He stared at her. “Are we playing twenty questions? Because I don’t have time for the other fifteen.”

  She laughed. “Okay, okay. I haven’t had any coffee yet.”

  He walked back to her desk and grabbed her cup. “I can solve that. Meet you in the conference room.”

  “Thanks.”

  Just a few minutes later, Jason was sorting through the stack of papers from the bank. “This is interesting.”

  “I’d ask what, but someone might complain.”

  He smirked at her and ignored the ja
b. “There are three sets of records here.”

  “Business, personal, and what’s the other set?”

  He arranged three stacks in front of him. “Business yes, but they had separate personal bank accounts.”

  “His and hers?”

  “Yeah, and just looking at the balance sheet, Janet Ellard was doing considerably better than her husband.”

  “How much better?”

  “She has nearly a hundred thousand dollars in her savings account, and over ten in her checking.” He grabbed a second sheet. “Dale has three thousand in his savings and only a hundred and fifty dollars in his checking.”

  Vanessa scowled. “A hundred thousand in the bank, plus the insurance policy and the house, gives Dale Ellard upwards of a half million reasons to see his wife dead.”

  “True. But he doesn’t act like someone who’s glad she’s gone and is counting the money.”

  “What about the business account?”

  Jason retrieved a third summary sheet. “Fifteen thousand plus. The practice doesn’t seem to be struggling, maybe because Janet handled the books.”

  Jason’s phone rang.

  Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil?”

  Jason smiled. “Homicide. Detective Strong.”

  “Good morning, Detective. This is Dale Ellard. I got your message.”

  Jason pointed at the phone and mouthed Ellard’s name, then put the call on speaker. “Yes, sir. I’m with Detective Layne and you’re on speaker. We had some more questions for you.”

  “I’m out of town at the moment.”

  Jason played dumb. “Oh? Where?”

  “Austin.”

  “Another court case?”

  “No. I’m visiting a friend, but I’ll be leaving as soon as I can check out of the hotel.”

  “May I inquire who the friend is?”

  “Her name is Elaine Smith. She’s a family friend who, like myself, is going through a difficult time right now.”

  No mention of the what the difficulty is. Jason opted to wait for a face to face before pressing on the details of the relationship. “Very well. Perhaps you could call us when you get home.”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  “Goodbye.”