Stiff Penalty (A Mattie Winston Mystery)

by Annelise Ryan

  “It seems that Wendy Ames had Derrick’s life insured to the tune of a half million bucks,” he told us when he got off the phone. “Derrick continued paying the premiums on it after the divorce. In fact, it was a stipulation in the divorce agreement. But Wendy isn’t the beneficiary, the kids are.”

  Richmond smiled. “I’m betting Jacob knows about that policy. That gives him even more motive.”

  “Maybe,” Hurley said. “But even though Wendy isn’t the beneficiary, the policy states that if Derrick dies before the boys reach the age of eighteen, the money is to go into a trust fund that Wendy would control.”

  “A chunk of money like that might help convince Blake to leave her husband,” I said.

  There was a knock on the office door, and Heidi, the dispatcher on duty, walked in and handed some papers to Richmond. “This just came in over the fax,” she said.

  “Hot dog,” Richmond said, flicking the corner of the papers with his fingers. “My search warrant finally came through. Let’s see what Stanley Barber the Third has to say about this.” He looked like a kid at Christmas who had just gotten the gift of his dreams. He took out his cell phone, called a couple of uniformed officers who were on duty, and asked them to meet us at the Ames house in ten minutes.

  Charlie said, “Would you mind if we go with you when you execute the warrant and videotape the search? It would be an ideal situation for Steve’s filming debut.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Hurley said.

  “Then come along,” Richmond said. “The more the merrier.”

  Yippee.

  Chapter 23

  “Should we all ride together, or do you and Charlie want to take a separate car?” Richmond asked Hurley.

  I was about to suggest that we all ride together because the idea of Charlie and Hurley cozying up together in one car didn’t make me happy. But Charlie solved the problem for me.

  “Actually, I’d prefer to take my own car. I have a lot of equipment in it, some of which I might want to use, and it’s a pain to have to move it.”

  “No problem,” Hurley said. “You can follow us out there.” Then he turned to me. “Want a lift?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at him. “I’d love one.”

  We headed out the back door to the parking lot, and I followed Hurley to his car. Once we were settled inside, we waited for Richmond to get into his vehicle and lead the way. Charlie got into an older model Toyota sedan, and Hurley motioned for her to fall in behind Richmond, allowing us to bring up the rear.

  “Have you heard anything from Izzy?” Hurley asked me once we were underway.

  “I talked to him last night. He’s a little overwhelmed right now dealing with Dom and his family, so we kept it short and simple. He basically just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

  “So you didn’t talk much about the baby thing?”

  “Not at all since the other night when he let me know he’d figured it out. We were supposed to discuss it over dinner on Sunday, but he had to cancel because of Dom’s dad’s death. I wanted you to be the first person I told, but clearly that didn’t go the way I planned.”

  “Yeah, getting shot at can really mess up your plans.”

  “You know what I mean,” I said.

  “I do, I’m just giving you a little ribbing. By the way, one of the state guys involved in your investigation is a good friend of mine. I used to work with him years ago when I was in Chicago. He promised to keep me in the loop, and after the meeting this morning he told me he thinks you’ll probably be cleared in a day or two.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Did Richmond tell you what they learned about the guy who shot at you?”

  “He did, and I don’t get it. Who would want to kill me, and why?”

  “Who knows why the fruitcakes in the world do what they do?” Hurley said. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore, but you still need to be careful since we don’t know who he was working for.”

  I nodded, resisting a sudden urge I had to look over my shoulder. “Do you mind ferrying me around until I get the hearse back?”

  “Of course not. In fact, I intend to ferry you around even after you get the hearse back to make sure you’re okay. And speaking of that beast you drive, there’s a good chance they’ll have it back to you by next week. Jonas came in at four this morning to process it for evidence. He had to remove the back bumper, two of the tires, and the rear driver side panel because it had a bullet hole in it. The rest of the damage was all in the glass. There’s a small dent in the tailgate where it hit the telephone pole, but otherwise the car is drivable. The state guys supervised the evidence collection and released the car, and Jonas had it hauled over to Marty Preston’s shop to get it fixed. Turns out one of the funeral home’s other hearses was involved in an accident last year, and that’s why they decided to get a new fleet and bought those soccer-mom vans they drive now. The other hearse is the same make, model, year, and color as yours. It ended up in a junk yard outside of Madison, and the owner parked it out in front of the place with a sign that says, WHERE CARS COME TO DIE. They’ve agreed to let Marty Preston have the rear panel from that hearse to put on yours. He’s picking it up today, and he said he should have it in place by the end of the week. And he’s replacing the windows and tires in the next day or two.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” I said, truly excited. “I considered buying something new since I can afford it now, but I have to admit, I love that stupid hearse.”

  “Much as I hate to admit it, I love it, too.”

  Well, we’re getting closer. He said he loves my car. “You do?”

  “Yeah, it probably saved your life . . . yours and Junior’s.”

  “Junior? He wasn’t there until after I called 911.”

  “Not that Junior, this one,” he said reaching over and putting a hand on my tummy. “It’s going to be a boy.”

  “Oh, really? How do you know that?”

  “I’ll have you know that I come from a long line of men and women who have what we Irish call the gift.”

  “The gift?” I echoed, amused.

  “Yeah, you know, the second sight. Sometimes I just know things.”

  “And to think I thought you were such a realist.”

  “It’s real. Just you wait and see. When Junior is born, you’ll be a believer, too.”

  I smiled and shook my head.

  “Speaking of which, when is your due date?”

  “September twentieth.”

  “Emily wanted me to ask. She’s very excited about it.”

  “You told Emily?”

  “Yeah, wasn’t I supposed to?”

  I thought about that and realized there was no reason for him not to tell her, though for some reason I had thought he would wait.

  Before I could respond, he said, “I wasn’t going to tell her right away, but she sensed there was something on my mind. She gave me an interrogation this morning worthy of the best detective. So I caved and told her. I figured she could use some lighter news for a change.”

  I sat in silence as we stopped at a light on Main Street and thought about Emily. My baby . . . no, our baby, I corrected myself, would be her half-brother or -sister.

  “When do you see the doctor again?” Hurley asked when the light changed.

  “Wednesday.”

  “Can I come along? Are they going to do one of those ultrasound things where you can see the baby?”

  Hurley’s request, and his happy interest in the whole matter, delighted me. After last night, I thought he might still be upset, or withdrawn, maybe even surly. But he appeared to be embracing his new role as a father with plenty of excitement and anticipation. So I said, “Sure, you can come along if you want. And yes, they are going to do one of those ultrasound things.”

  “So we can find out if it’s going to be a boy or a girl?”

  “We could, but I don’t want to know.”

  Hurley shot me a puzzled look. �
��Why not?”

  “Because I like surprises. I like the unpredictability of it. That’s why I liked working in the ER so much. I never knew what was going to come through the door next. It’s a big part of what I like about my current job.”

  “Well, we definitely differ on that score,” Hurley said. “I like predictability.”

  “You were probably one of those kids who sneaked a peek at his Christmas presents early.”

  “Hell, yeah,” he said. “One year I carefully unwrapped every present I had under the tree, easing the tape off, and unfolding the paper just enough to see what was inside. Then I just as carefully rewrapped them and put them back in their place.” He frowned then and added, “It was kind of a bummer on Christmas morning. I had to act surprised even though I knew what I was getting.”

  “See?” I said. “Surprises do have some value.”

  “I suppose. I’ll think about it,” he said.

  “And besides, I hate pink, and if it’s a girl, everyone will be buying pink stuff. I don’t want a bunch of pink crap.”

  “It’s not going to be a girl.”

  We had arrived at the Ames house, and he parked the car in the street behind Charlie and Richmond. When he turned off the engine, I started to get out, but he grabbed me by the arm and said, “Hold on a sec.”

  I paused and looked back at him, expectantly . . . a veritable pregnant pause.

  “Look, I just want you to know that I’m truly happy about this, Winston. Having kids wasn’t on my radar at this point in my life, but I’m ready to take it on. And if I’m going to have a kid at any stage in my life, I’m glad it’s with you.”

  My chest seized up, and before I knew what was happening, I started to sob.

  “What?” Hurley said. “Did I say something wrong?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak for the moment. Finally I managed to get myself under control. “No, you said everything right.” Well, almost everything.

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “Because I’m pregnant,” I said in a slightly exasperated tone.

  “You’re not happy about it?” he asked, looking confused.

  “I’m very happy,” I said, wiping my runny nose on my sleeve. “These are happy tears.”

  Hurley nodded slowly, but his expression remained befuddled. “Is it going to be like this until Junior arrives?”

  “Maybe. Probably. Hell, I don’t know. It might be like this for a while after Junior arrives. It’s the hormones. They do weird things to me.”

  “Hunh.”

  I managed to get my sobs under control and said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that this whole thing is such an emotional experience for me. My hormones are going crazy, my body is changing almost daily, and to be honest, I’m a little scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “That something will be wrong with the baby. I don’t know anything about my father, his health, or his family history. And look at the maternal genes I inherited. What if I’m a crappy mother? Or worse yet, what if I’m a mother like my mother? What if this whole thing is a huge mistake?” I looked out the car’s front window and saw Richmond and Charlie, along with a couple of uniformed cops, all of them standing on the sidewalk, staring at us with curious expressions.

  “We’ll do tests on the kid to make sure it’s okay,” Hurley said. “They can do that these days, can’t they?”

  I nodded and took in a deep breath to try to recenter myself.

  “I can deal with your hormones, Winston. Hormones are nothing. I handle killers for a living, remember?”

  That made me smile, although I’m not sure he fully understood the potential damage out-of-control female hormones can do. At times I’m like a bodybuilder who’s pissed off, overdosed on steroids, and armed with a chain saw.

  “And I like your body no matter what it looks like,” he continued. “In fact, some of the changes are very appealing.” He eyed my chest and wiggled his eyebrows. I probably should have been insulted, but I wasn’t. At this stage, I’d take anything. “Even if there is something wrong with the kid,” Hurley went on, “we’ll still raise him, take care of him, and provide him with a good life, right?”

  I nodded, afraid that if I tried to speak I’d start crying again.

  “It will be fine, Winston. We’re in this together, okay?”

  I liked the sound of that. Regardless of what happened between me and Hurley and our personal relationship, we were in this thing together, and I knew I’d do whatever was necessary to make sure we did the best for the child we were going to have.

  “Is it too soon for me to start shopping for footballs?” Hurley asked, nudging me with his elbow.

  That got a laugh out of me. I sniffed one last time, and said, “Probably, but do it anyway.” I rubbed a hand over my tummy. “Who knows? By the time this critter grows up, maybe girls will be allowed to play in the NFL.” I opened my door to get out. “Come on. Charlie and Richmond are waiting on us.”

  Chapter 24

  We paraded up to the Ames’s front porch, Richmond and I in the lead, Hurley and Charlie bringing up the rear. Charlie already had the camera on and aimed at the front door. “I’ll shoot until we get inside, then you can take over,” she said to Hurley.

  Wendy Ames scowled at us when she answered the door. “What are you doing here? Stanley said not to talk to you unless he is present, so if you need something you can call him.”

  Richmond smiled, a predatory, self-satisfied smile that was kind of scary. “We aren’t here to talk to you; we’re here to conduct a search of your home.”

  “You can’t search my house,” Wendy said, frowning. She had her cell phone in hand, and she started jabbing at the screen. “I’m calling Stanley.”

  “Good,” Richmond said. “You can read him this.” He then stuck the search warrant in front of her face.

  Wendy stopped poking at her phone and stared at the paper, letting the reality of it sink in. Ten seconds later, her face turned beet red, and she looked like steam was about to come out of her ears. It was easy to see where Jacob got it from. Richmond snatched the paper away and paraded past Wendy into the living room, the rest of us following.

  Wendy’s house was smaller than Derrick’s, but the furnishings looked brand new, and the décor, as Blake had said, was decidedly modern, with lots of glass and chrome. I wondered how much of it had been paid for by Derrick and how much had been provided by Blake.

  Richmond turned back to look at Wendy and said, “Where is Jacob’s room?”

  Wendy still looked apoplectic, but she gathered her wits together and walked past Richmond down a hallway leading off the living room. She stopped at the last room on the right and knocked on the door. “Jacob?” she hollered.

  There was no answer. She grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it, but it was locked.

  “Jacob!” she yelled, sterner this time.

  Still no answer.

  Richmond gently pushed her aside and pounded on the door with his fist. “Jacob Ames, this is the police. Open up!”

  Not a peep came from the other side of the door. Richmond looked at the knob, which had a small hole at its center, and then fished around in his pocket. He came out with a tiny Swiss Army knife, opened it to a small screwdriver, and stuck it in the hole. After maneuvering with it for a few seconds, we heard a pop, and Richmond turned the knob and opened the door.

  There was no one in the room.

  “Where is he?” Wendy asked, looking panicked.

  Hurley and Charlie were shoulder to shoulder, filming everything we were doing, Hurley holding the camera and Charlie watching the screen along with him. They were practically cheek to cheek, and as Charlie passed me I shot eye daggers into the back of her head.

  “Looks like he might have done another window trick,” Richmond said, nodding toward the window, which was open. Richmond then walked over to Jacob’s desk, which was covered with stuff: socks, an iPod, a boom box, a laptop, various personal hygiene items, some
schoolbooks, notebooks, and several pieces of paper. There was also a smashed smartphone sitting off to one side. With a gloved hand, Richmond picked the phone up and showed it to Wendy.

  “Is this Jacob’s?”

  Wendy looked puzzled and shook her head. “Jacob’s phone is a flip model.”

  Richmond held the mangled phone up to the camera, then turned it over to show that the battery was gone.

  That’s when Wendy said, “That looks like Derrick’s phone.” The four of us exchanged looks, and Wendy didn’t miss it. “What does that mean?”

  Richmond didn’t answer her. I grabbed an evidence bag from the scene kit I’d brought in from Hurley’s car, and Richmond dropped the phone into it. I then sealed and labeled the bag.

  After sifting through the rest of the stuff on Jacob’s desk, Richmond went to the closet. He opened the door to reveal chaos: piles of clothes on the floor, a few items hanging askew from wire hangers, and a half dozen pairs of shoes. Right in the middle of the shoe pile was a pair of ASIC Gel Scout athletic shoes with blue trim and orange soles.

  Richmond bent over, picked them up, and held them aloft for Hurley to film. On the inside of one of them was a scuff mark in the shape of the Nike swoosh. “Do these look familiar?” he said to Hurley.

  Wendy looked even more panicked. “What do you mean? Why are you interested in Jacob’s shoes?”

  Once again Richmond ignored her question, and I could tell Wendy was getting very frustrated. I opened up a bag for him to put the shoes into. Then I sealed and labeled it.

  “Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Wendy pleaded.

  “We need to find your son,” Richmond said. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  Wendy shook her head frantically. “I thought he was in his room.”

  From the hallway, a meek voice said, “I think he went to Sean’s house.” We all turned and saw Jacob’s younger brother, Michael, standing there. “He goes over there all the time. He sneaks out through his window. They both do.”

  Richmond took out his phone, called the station, and had officers dispatched to the Fitzpatrick house to look for Jacob. Wendy started to cry. Michael started to sob, and Hurley, seeing the younger boy’s obvious distress, lowered the camera. Charlie took hold of his arm and tried to raise it back up, but he shook her off and handed her the camera. Then he went over to Michael and knelt down in front of him.