by David Bishop
“Lieutenant Reynolds, you work for the State of Florida. What do you have to say about this all-talk-and-no-results report Mr. McCall is giving me?”
“It’s just as Mr. McCall described it. I … we expect to get there, but we aren’t there yet.”
Jack looked at the governor. “First, sir, we have concluded your sister was most likely murdered as you believed from the start. After we reached that conclusion, the killer’s release to the media appeared to confirm it.”
“Why do you say ‘appeared to confirm,’ Mr. McCall?”
“Nut jobs regularly come forward and claim responsibility after prominent crimes. That could be the case here, although we doubt it.”
“Who is the bastard?”
Jack put his cup down onto its matching saucer. “We don’t know that answer, but we do have news. Are you aware you have a nephew, Mary Alice’s son, Carter Phelps? What are your thoughts on him?”
“What? No. My sister had no children.”
“But she did, Governor.”
“No. It can’t be. Mary Alice was never married. She voluntarily chose the name of Phelps. Who is this Carter person?”
“Carter Phelps is your sister’s son and the heir to nearly her entire estate.” Jack paused and watched the governor’s mouth move as thought-marbles rolled freely in his mind. “You must know about him. For God’s sake, Governor Lennox. Carter Phelps is your nephew.”
“I didn’t … I don’t. I can’t believe it. How could she raise him? I mean … without ever mentioning him. Where is he? Is he alive?”
“He’s very much alive. I can’t tell you much more. For the moment, your nephew is part of our investigation.”
“Oh, balderdash, Mr. McCall. If Mary Alice had a child, my nephew, he can’t be a suspect in the murder of his mother. Come on, man, get real.”
“I’m not saying he’s a suspect, but I’m also not saying he isn’t. We don’t know and can’t say more … sir. After we speak to him, I can give you more details on things we simply don’t know at this point.”
“Ann?” The governor cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Reynolds, what do you know about this wild claim that I have a nephew?”
Ann leaned against the armrest of her chair. “Only what Jack just told you.” She crossed her legs. “We know he is your nephew and where he is. That’s all we’re prepared to say at this point. This investigation is at a critical juncture. You need to give us time. At least until we’ve interviewed him.”
Jack added, “After the interview, we’ll determine how much more we can tell you.”
Governor Lennox picked up his coffee cup, then he stopped. As he lowered it back to the saucer, his hand quivered. “And just when in the hell do you plan to do that?”
“Within the next day or two. First,” Jack said, “we want a report on an interview of the boy’s father. That interview is occurring today. We’ll hear about that tonight. The lieutenant and I plan to meet with your nephew tomorrow, subject to his availability.”
The governor’s head snapped toward Ann. “You know who the father is? What’s his name?”
“Governor, we’ve shared this much out of respect for your office and you being Jack’s client. We can’t disclose more until we’ve addressed the father and the boy as part of our investigation. … Sorry, sir.”
The governor’s questions kept coming back to his nephew and the nephew’s father. Jack disclosed that while Mary Alice had never married, the father had contributed substantial support to the raising of his son. Beyond that, Jack and Ann provided nothing more.
The governor walked them out to the hallway near the elevators. “Mr. McCall, Lieutenant Reynolds. I’m not a patient man and not without significant resources. I’ll wait, but not long.” With that, the governor turned on his heels and returned to his office. He shut the door without looking back.
That guy in the hallway when we came in, he was with the governor in DC. … Mack. Yeah Mack.
In the car, Ann turned to Jack in the passenger seat. “I almost told him his nephew was right here in Tallahassee. He’s got his nephew’s name and the resources to find him. I expect he’ll likely do that.”
“I’m glad you didn’t tell him more.” Jack angled the air conditioning vent while Ann started the engine. “I don’t want him getting ahead of us. I’m not even sure it was a good idea to tell him what we did.”
“No, Jack. We did right. We needed his reaction to judge whether or not he knew his sister had a child. I don’t think he had prior knowledge about his nephew. What was your read?”
“I agree. He didn’t know. Then again, he’s a politician, so he’s developed the ability to deny things with a sincere demeanor.”
At a stoplight, Jack twisted in the seat to face Ann. “Let’s get some dinner and save Carter Phelps for first thing tomorrow—Saturday. We’ll roust him out of his bed and confront him before he puts on his public face.”
“Agreed. You’ll hear from Max and Nora this evening. It’s best we first hear their report on the boy’s poppa. Any place in particular you’d like to eat or spend the night?”
“You live here. Surprise me.”
“I know just the place.” Ann’s turned right at the corner.
22
Jack settled his eyes on the firmness of Ann’s calves. The tilt of her hip, the curve of her waist, and, when his eyes found her face, the scarlet of her lips.
Ann stepped into her loose-fitting lime green panties. Her thumbs stretched and settled the elastic top along her waist.
She walked to the couch and picked up her tossed bra, dangled it at arm’s length and turned to face Jack. She swung her arms through the straps of the harness, bent forward, and nested her breasts into the hammocks of its cups.
She stood tall and ran her thumbs inside her bra straps from the tops of the cups to the height of her shoulders. “A final look.” She walked over to where Jack was seated and turned in a slow circle.
“Next I put on my boy-type outerwear and strap my service pistol on my left hip.”
“If we had the same employer, the last couple of hours we would have breached a bunch of protocols.”
Ann leaned down and kissed Jack on the mouth. Her hand settled on his groin. “I like you Jack McCall.”
“Everybody likes everybody while they’re doing what we’ve been doing.”
While Jack opened a bottle of Chianti, Ann reheated some lasagna.
“It’s not exactly gourmet, but we need to get back to work.”
He nodded. “What we just did was more fun.”
“That it was.” She raised her eyebrows in a Groucho Marx kind of way. “I’m glad we found time for me to fulfil my overdue duty from Steak & Knobber Day—I wish all my duties were as pleasant.” She licked her lips before smacking them. “Okay, fun’s over, let’s eat some lasagna and get organized. We’ve got a killer to catch.”
“Summarize these murders the way you see them.”
Jack chewed his first bite of lasagna and swallowed. “We’ve got a man who killed four women—”
“Are we sure it’s a man?”
“He was strong enough to hoist the woman he hanged.”
“Okay. That eliminates some women, but not all. I could lift her.”
“That’s right, I forgot you deadlift as part of your strength training. Okay Lieutenant Reynolds, it’s time to fess up. Why did you murder the women of the ladies lunch club?”
When Ann’s eyes came back to Jack, they were a bit narrowed. “I was just making an important point. It’s not just men who are strong enough. Lots of women could do it. Though, not many who were members of the lunch club or live in the retirement community. We should acknowledge the lift requirement also eliminates some men.”
“Agreed. I’ll revise. We’ve got a killer who’s murdered four women. The killer has shown originality in how each were killed. And, for some unknown reason, the killer has linked the homicides to these days of recognition.”
Ann took
a drink of her Chianti. “But we know all that. Let’s get outside the box as they say. Get some fresh thoughts. Don’t qualify them, just get them on the table. Then we can cross off the nuttier ones. Let’s leave Alec Franklin, the father of Phelps’ son, out until after we hear from Max and Nora after they interview the daddy.” She forked in a large cut of lasagna and began chewing.
Jack closed his eyes and shrugged. “Let’s start with this: These murders are all about the developer getting the theater property. I went back and reread all the articles in the local paper that mentioned the developer’s plan. It’s not just the theater property. The plan encompasses an entire block. Before the first of our ladies were murders, the developer acquired some of the properties, and bought options to buy almost all the others. As of now, the theater is the last piece they don’t control. Their objective appears to be the development of the country’s first mall designed to appeal to America’s seniors. What they buy, sold by salespeople trained in traditional American manners and service.”
“Is that kind of thing worth murdering people?”
Jack pointed his finger, but not at anything in particular. “You remember that Mary Alice told the four partners they would clear something like a hundred thousand a piece. Based on that opinion, this theater transaction approaches a half million. And that’s without the rest of the block and the street behind, which is planned for parking. So, yeah, this is a very big deal for the developer. What we don’t know is how much money is enough to kill for.”
“That answer varies by individual.”
Jack swallowed and put his fork down. “Okay, what other theories?”
“Theory number two: Somebody’s trying to take over Shirley Germaine’s collection of teapots.”
They laughed. Jack put down his wine glass. “Theory number three: The governor hired some henchman to kill his sister. He wants her millions. Remember, you and he have some history and he designated you to help Sheriff Jackson work the case. And he came to DC to hire me as an outside investigator. Those two moves could’ve been about placing himself above suspicion and establishing a pipeline into our investigation.”
“That could explain his frustration this afternoon at our lack of sharing details. Then again, it could simply be a brother’s determination, or a governor not used to being refused whatever he requests.”
Jack pointed his fork at Ann. “A couple of hours ago we agreed we read the governor as not knowing his sister had a child.”
“So he had his sister murdered to get her millions, which, her having a son, means he’ll never get. If so, that’s a monumental fubar. Is that the picture we’re painting?”
When they finished eating. Jack refilled Ann’s glass, emptying the bottle of Chianti. “You said, toss ‘em out. That we’d weed out the nutty ones later. So, is this one about the governor one of the nutty ones? You know the man better than I do. What say you?”
“Trey Lennox is an aggressive man. Ambitious. We’ve both heard the talk about his possibly running for president. That’s not exactly the plan of a man without ambition. He’s the governor of a major state that’s historically a stronghold of his party and has a lot of Electoral College votes.”
“Yeah. Yeah. But could he kill? Could he kill his own sister? Without her death, no one would get her money, at least not right away. His sister’s millions would sure come in handy before the big donors start kicking in.”
Ann licked her index finger to remove a smudge of lasagna. “It would let him play the song about being a candidate who funds his own campaign, at least for a while.”
Jack offered Ann the last piece of garlic bread. She shook her head. He bit into it.
“As for my knowing him, he’s the governor. I’m just a state copper, but this spin reads as too nutty for me. It would mean he refused the sheriff’s conclusion of accidental death and hired you to prove she was murdered when he was the killer. That’s the part that doesn’t float. It’s more likely if he killed her, or had her killed, he’d leave you in D.C., admit she was his sister, accept the sheriff’s finding of accidental death, and play the grieving brother for the press.”
“Crazy smart, maybe?” Jack scooted the last piece of garlic toast around his plate sopping up the remaining lasagna sauce. “Next theory: Could we have more than one murderer? Maybe different reasons for the different murders?”
“Norma Taylor fits that. She knew the will left her Phelps home. You Yanks have a history of women who kill: Bonnie Parker, Belle Starr, Ma Barker. There’s lots of gals who’ve croaked other women and men. Norma Taylor sure liked the idea of getting a house with a pool.”
“I confess, I’m not all that comfortable with the thought of one elderly woman murdering another. On some level it seems absurd, so, yeah, I’d rate this theory as nutty, at least want to. By the way, your lasagna was fabulous.”
“Thanks, Jack. Now, you were discrediting the idea of Norma Taylor killing Mary Alice Phelps. Remember, Phelps’ will was in Taylor’s house. Some night, Mary Alice goes home soused and leaves the file cabinet unlocked. Norma snoops and discovers she gets Mary Alice’s house. She’s grows eager to have the pool and get rid of the mortgage on her current home. … We discussed the developer killing to get a piece of property worth something near a half a million. That’s not all that far from the value of Phelps’ home that Norma Taylor gets.”
“No. No.” Jack scooted his fork onto his empty plate. “You left out a big piece of that comparison. The Phelps’ residence in total is something nearing half a mil. The four-hundred-thousand movie property is just a part of the property the developer ends up with—all the related properties will total many millions. Still, I admit, it’s got enough merit to be a valid theory. I’ll text CC to develop a full jacket on Norma Taylor.”
Jack picked up their plates. “Another possibility is that Carter Phelps coulda bumped off his own momma.” He rinsed their spent plates at the sink. “She farmed him out to schools leaving him to be largely raised by others. He could’ve resented that and got in a hurry to get her dough.”
“With her outta the way, he’s a multi-millionaire. That’s damn sure a motive.”
Jack put the two rinsed plates into the dishwasher. “It assumes he knew what Mary Alice put in her will. He could’ve been given a copy right off.”
Ann positioned the rinsed wine glasses in the top rack. “In the morning, I’ll call her attorney and ask if a copy was sent to Carter before his mother was killed.”
“We should have asked while we were with the attorney.”
“Yeah.” Ann closed the dishwasher.
“Okay, so now we’ve got a collection of theories. Some more credible on the surface, but all of them with some measure of merit. And, we didn’t include Carter’s father. We may want to add him after we hear from Max and Nora.”
It was nearly nine when Jack’s cellphone rang. He answered, covered the phone, looked at Ann and mouthed, “Max.”
“Hey, Max. I was hoping we’d hear from you guys. How was your visit with Daddy?”
“We had a long talk. Left him about an hour and a half ago. We grabbed some chow. Sorry I’m calling this late. We just got into the hotel. I’ve got you on speaker. Nora’s here.”
“Hey, Nora.”
“Jack, let us give you our report, then you can fill us in on your visit with Governor Lennox.”
“Go ahead. Ann’s here with me. You’re on speaker.”
“The daddy, Alec Franklin, retired from the investment brokerage firm that gave his name top billing: Franklin, Crestwick, and Sneed. His wife is dead. They had two children. According to him, neither his wife nor their two kids knew he has this other son, Carter. His wife has been dead some years and, frankly, he’s not all that worried at this point that his two grown children would come unglued if they found out now. He doesn’t hide he has bitter feelings toward Mary Alice, but his payments for the boy ended years ago. He sees it as part of his private history. An unfortunate event he brought upon him
self, and he has paid for it dearly. Over the years, with Mary Alice working in his firm, he’d see the boy at company functions. Far as Franklin knew, Carter doesn’t know he’s his poppa.”
Ann leaned toward the cellphone speaker. “Anything connecting the father to the case?”
“Nothing really. The cost of that history ended several years ago. He’s had no contact with the boy or Mary Alice for years. Says ever since his wife died, he’s been thinking about finding the boy and identifying himself. In our opinion, it’s unlikely he’ll ever act on that thought.”
“Max,” Jack said a little louder, “you got anything to add to what Nora just said?”
“Not really. My opinion’s substantially the same. And, when you got an expert quoting an expert you’ve got expert squared. Franklin was a loose possible suspect but if he was moved to murder he would have long ago not after he quit paying. Unless you got anything else to ask us, fill us in on your chat with Governor Lennox.”
Jack and Ann took turns filling Max and Nora in on their meeting with the governor and the maybe theories they’d kicked around while eating Ann’s leftover lasagna. Max and Nora saw the same possible theories as had Jack and Ann.
“What else can you tell me?”
“Nothing. Well, I can tell ya we aren’t making much progress on my jigsaw puzzle. The last few nights have been spent trying to fit together the pieces of our murder puzzle. We’d hoped both the case and the puzzle would come together a bit quicker.”
“How far along is the puzzle, now?”
“About half done. Nora and I are talking about pulling an all-nighter. We don’t want to have to break it down and start it again back in D.C.”
23
The governor’s nephew, Carter Phelps, lived in a duplex condo. Ann turned onto the driveway of the left side unit at eight-fifteen. The garage door was up with a car inside. Ann had run Carter Phelps through her FDLE computer that tied into the Florida Motor Vehicles Department’s computer. The car plate matched, it was his. She followed Jack up the sidewalk, onto the porch, and to the door of his left side condo. From what they could tell, there were no lights on inside.