Murder.com

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  “I know. But she's my daughter."

  “Yes, that's true. But she's also an adult, no longer an innocent child that you can control. Unfortunately, she didn't have you with her all the time and got raised by strangers. And that was Bud's mistake. He should never have taken Melinda away from you and put her into boarding schools."

  “But he gave her all the things I couldn't give her."

  “That's true, but they were materialistic. I'm sure he thought he did the right thing. But that's neither here nor there now and we can't change it. You and I have to get on with our lives. I'm not taking your cottage away, you may stay with me as long as you wish. However, it still stands that Melinda is not to come on the premises."

  Marty lowered her head. “Thank you, Mrs. Nevers. I'll be forever grateful."

  Angie stood and patted her shoulder. “We'll get through this, I promise."

  She went back to the house where she found Sandy at the kitchen bar blowing her nose. Several wadded tissues surrounded the phone. “Are you all right?"

  “Yes. Just mother-daughter tears. I feel so much better after talking to them. And I told them everything. I realize now that my girls are pretty mature."

  Angie put an arm around Sandy's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “They've been through a lot this past year. Life's experiences make a person grow."

  “I also talked with Mother about keeping them a while longer. She and Dad agreed it would be best."

  * * * *

  A week had passed since Cliff sent in the sports coat for testing. He stopped by Tom's office.

  “You busy?"

  “No more than usual. Come on in."

  “Any new leads on the Nevers-Conners case?"

  Tom closed the folder on his desk. “Not on this end. How about you?"

  “I know Ken has made several visits to Mrs. Conners’ household, but most of the meetings took place in the yard.” Cliff tilted his head and raised a brow. “Which seems odd."

  “Maybe she's scared to invite him in."

  “Well, that's possible, or Weber chooses not to go inside."

  Tom couldn't restrain a slight smile. “I can also understand that."

  Cliff slapped his hand on the desk. “I think that woman's blackmailing him."

  Tom blinked. “What makes you think that?"

  “A new BMW showed up in her garage."

  Tom straightened in his chair. “You're kidding."

  “No."

  “Where the hell is she getting the money? Conners certainly didn't leave enough for an expensive car, even after the insurance paid off."

  Cliff leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “There's something fishy going on, and I think we need to find out what."

  “You know it won't do us a damn bit of good to question Ken. He won't tell us a thing."

  “And the Conners woman is anti-police. She isn't even concerned about who killed her husband. In fact, would you believe she never called the mortuary once while they had the body under examination? They had to call her."

  Tom rubbed his chin. “Doesn't sound like much love lost, does it?"

  The phone rang. Tom picked it up and handed it to Cliff. “For you."

  “Detective Maxhimer here."

  Tom watched Cliff's expression turn sour. When he hung up, Tom asked. “What's up?"

  Cliff hit the desk with his fist. “Damn. I thought for sure we had him.” He looked deflated. “The fibers don't match. We're back to square one."

  After Cliff left the office, Tom opened the Conners file, which he'd been studying when the detective came in. He reread the part about what had been found under Ryan Conners’ fingernails. That inner sense kept nagging him. He scratched his head and read the report again. Nothing, but he knew there had to be something he'd missed. He felt it ... but what? He flipped the file closed then opened it at the beginning and reread the whole thing again. No way did that woman have enough money to buy even the cheapest car on the market. Even on time. Her credit cards were maxed and many of her bills left unpaid. In her financial shape, she couldn't get a loan to buy anything, much less a car.

  He pulled the phone directory out of the drawer and turned to car sales. Starting with the local BMW dealerships, he began dialing. It didn't take long for him to locate the one that had sold the car to Ken Weber. They had been instructed to deliver it to a Mrs. Autumn Conners. A sympathy gift from the Nevers Computer Technology Company.

  “How the hell did he get away with that?” Tom muttered, hanging up. “I guess you can do anything if you're the lone head of a company. Cliff's right. Something fishy is going on here."

  Leaving the Conners file on his desk, he shrugged into his jacket and decided it wouldn't hurt to talk to that woman again. He stopped by Cliff's office. “Want to accompany me out to the Conners’ place?"

  Cliff shook his head. “Try it alone this time. She doesn't like me."

  Just as Tom drove up to the Conners’ home, Autumn pulled into the driveway in her new car. Tom met her as she stepped onto the driveway.

  “Hello, Mrs. Conners. Nice car."

  She eyed him suspiciously, not responding to his comment as she threw her shawl over her shoulders and unhooked the two children from their new safety seats. After she lifted the two little girls out of the car, she turned to him. “What warrants this visit? Mr.... uh, sorry, but I've forgotten your name."

  “Detective Hoffman."

  She continued to unload packages out of the trunk, then closed it and turned to him. “You haven't answered my question, Mr. Hoffman."

  He stood back and looked at the BMW. “One thing I'm curious about, is how you can afford this car?"

  She put her nose in the air as she walked toward the front door. “I don't think that's any of your business."

  “Yes, it is the police's business, Mrs. Conners. We're doing a murder investigation and I know your financial status even after the insurance settlement. You can't afford this car. Where did it come from?"

  She stood at the entrance and glared at him. “It's a gift."

  “Mighty expensive gift. Who from?"

  “From the Nevers Company. Guess they felt bad that Ryan got murdered on their property."

  “I see. Who transacted the purchase?"

  “Mr. Weber. You can talk to him about the details."

  “I plan to.” Tom shifted on his feet and looked straight into her eyes. “Tell me, Mrs. Conners. Aren't you curious about the death of your husband?"

  She jerked her gaze away and fumbled with her keys. The two little girls clung to her leg. One started to whimper. “I have to get the children inside and down for a nap. You'll have to excuse me now."

  “You didn't answer my question, Mrs. Conners. Don't you wonder who killed your husband?"

  She shoved the two crying girls inside, then poked her head out the door. “No! Detective Hoffman, I don't care.” Then she slammed the door in his face.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Autumn watched through the peephole until the detective drove away. Then she slumped against the door. “Why do the police keep coming around?” She hammered her fist against the door. “Why can't you leave me alone, you bastards? I'm not going to tell you anything."

  * * * *

  The woman's behavior baffled Tom. But, he had to hand it to her; she told the truth about the car. Cliff had her pegged; she was definitely hiding something. And as long as Ken Weber was her benefactor, her lips would stay sealed. His intuition kept kicking at him. So what the hell am I overlooking?

  He arrived back at the station and poked his head into Cliff's office. “You're right, Cliff. She's covering up. But what?” He shrugged. “She's got me baffled"

  Cliff pushed unruly hair behind his ears and replaced his cap. “We'll just keep digging. Something's got to surface soon."

  Tom waved. “I'm out of here early. Angie invited me to dinner."

  Cliff shook his head. “Man, some of us get all the breaks. Wh
at I wouldn't give for a home-cooked meal."

  Tom grinned. “I'll see what I can do about getting an invite for you next time."

  When Tom arrived at the Nevers’ home, Sandy's appearance surprised him. “You look great."

  She smiled. “I'm almost back to normal. Now, if only Ken would straighten out and act like himself."

  He didn't respond to the comment as they gathered around the dinner table. About midway through the meal, Tom glanced at Angie. “How well do you know Ryan Conners’ wife?"

  “Autumn?"

  “Yes."

  “Not well. I've only met her a couple of times. She and Ryan were a strange couple and kept very much to themselves. They seldom went to the company's functions."

  Tom nodded. “I gathered that much from interviewing her."

  “I went with Ken one time to their home,” Sandy intervened. “He had to pick up a report or something. And I can verify she's not what you'd call a housekeeper. The place reeked. It's no wonder Ryan had the reputation of staying at the office long hours."

  “Bud told me she's quite brilliant when it comes to computers,” Angie said. “The idea of developing the computer program that would copy a person's own handwriting came from her and motivated Bud to talk with the company's technicians. They got real excited about the project. It wasn't long before they had it up and running. That program made a killing for us."

  Tom thought about the suicide message written in Conners’ handwriting. “Conners must have had the program on his computer."

  “If I'm not mistaken,” Angie said, “all the computers at the company have it installed."

  “Makes sense.” Tom leaned back in his chair. “Did the company give any compensation to Autumn?"

  “Yes, they did,” Sandy said. “I remember Ken mentioning it. They set up something like a royalty where she received a small percentage of each program sold. I'm not sure if it was on a monthly or yearly basis. It would be in the records."

  “Then, with her brains, why didn't she go to work when Ryan lost all that money in the stock market instead of his embezzling from the company? Doesn't make sense."

  “Good question,” Angie said, taking a sip of wine. “Have you talked to her?"

  “Yes. This afternoon, but I didn't mention the embezzlement. Not ready to go into that with her just yet.” Then he told them about her new car. “Did you sign for that expenditure, Angie?"

  A look of surprise crossed her face. “No. Should I have?"

  “Well, it seems until everything is settled within the company that you should have some say about the company's expenses. Maybe I'm wrong, but I wouldn't think Ken had full say so on all things."

  “Maybe I better check with the corporate lawyers."

  “I think that's a good idea."

  Angie and Tom glanced at Sandy.

  “Don't worry about talking in front of me. Ken's not himself. He's liable to do several dumb things before he gets his head on straight. I've accepted that now. I just wish I knew how to help him."

  “Have you seen or talked to him since you've been out of the hospital?” Tom asked.

  Sandy shook her head.

  Shortly after dinner, Tom left and decided to drop in on Ken Weber. He reported to Cliff where he'd be.

  “Be careful,” Cliff warned. “That guy's a powder keg, just ready to blow."

  “Yeah, I know. But, maybe he'll talk one on one. We used to be friends. I don't know if that still holds true or not. But I want to give it a try."

  “Good luck. Call me when you're out of there."

  “Will do."

  When Tom pulled up in front of the Weber home, he saw Ken's car in the garage. Not sure how he'd be received, Tom stepped hesitantly upon the front porch and rung the bell, prepared to leave if Ken ordered him off the property. But to his surprise, Ken shook his hand and invited him inside.

  “I hope this is a friendly visit and not business?"

  “Well, I guess you can say friendly and to satisfy my curiosity. Nothing will be on record."

  “That's good. It's been a bit lonely around here. I can honestly say, it's good to see you, Tom. I'm assuming you're making this visit on your own time, so what can I fix you to drink?"

  Tom followed Ken into the large recreation room, decorated quite differently from his office at work. The furniture consisted of two huge couches with lots of throw pillows of all sizes.

  A large television screen and stereo equipment occupied one whole end. He also spotted two telephones, one on each side of the room. Teenagers definitely lived here. A huge, well-stocked wet bar with leather-covered stools covered the opposite end. Ken had soft classical music playing which Tom couldn't identify, but thought pleasant for background music.

  “So what brings you here?” Ken asked, settling on one of the couches.

  Tom positioned himself opposite him, setting his drink on the large heavily-lacquered oak coffee table between them. He folded his hands together and looked at Ken. “I'll get right to the point. I'm curious as to why the Nevers Company felt they should give Mrs. Conners a new car?"

  Ken smiled. “How did I know that you'd ask that question? I just didn't feel Mrs. Conners should have to suffer over Ryan's stupidity. I tried to tell him that the game he played with the stock market would do nothing but make him a loser. He kept telling me he'd get it all back. Well, he didn't and I guess that's when he started stealing from the company. As I'm sure you know by now, that young intern we hired found the dummy company Ryan invented."

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “You knew about the dummy company?"

  “Yeah, Bud told me that day on the golf course."

  “Why didn't you tell us?"

  “Because all hell broke loose after Bud's murder and everyone kept suspecting that I'd killed him. Even my wife and daughters. I became very angry that people would suspect me of such a hideous crime. Bud and I had been friends for years.” He came forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees. “Tom, why would I kill a man that I loved like a brother? The man was so good for me. He kept me on an even plane. He soft-stepped where I came on too strong for my own good. We were a great team.” Ken slouched back on the couch. “I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep the company going without him. I'm too hot-headed and have no patience."

  Tom studied Ken as he spoke.

  “I did some sleuthing on my own. After the report came out on how Bud died, I couldn't figure out how anyone could have pumped him full of phenobarbital. I checked with some medical people and they said it can be injected. Now how in the hell did they get Bud to stand still so they could poke him with a needle? He was a big guy."

  “They must have knocked him out first,” Tom said. “No way would the examiner be able to tell us. The body was too badly burned."

  Ken ran a hand over his forehead. “I also tried to track his whereabouts after we played golf. He disappeared into thin air.” He shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. “Do you think Ryan Conners killed Bud to shut him up?"

  “That's possible, but then who killed Ryan to quiet him? I'm sure you know by now that you're our prime suspect. We know you bet and lost heavily on the horse races.” Tom cleared his throat. “More than you can cover with your salary."

  “I wouldn't kill over it."

  “Men have killed for less."

  “So, I'm definitely the number one suspect?"

  “Afraid so, Ken. Unless you can show me why you shouldn't be."

  “All I can tell you is I'm not a murderer. Even though I hit my wife and one of my daughters, which I regret with all my heart. This whole thing is tearing me apart. So let me tell you why I'm a bastard and murder suspect number one."

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  After two hours Ken finally stopped talking. “There, you have it. That's my story."

  Tom looked at him, stunned by what he'd just heard. “Why the hell didn't you tell me you had an alibi at the beginning?"

  “I didn't think
I needed one. I'm a stubborn son-of-a-bitch and hated people judging me.” His shoulders slumped. “Also, I thought the police would find the murderer by now. I feel like I'm being framed, but I don't know by whom. I'm as frustrated as you are, Tom."

  “Now that you've told me about the Conners woman, I'd like to see that letter."

  Ken ran his hand over his face. “Oh, God, what'd I do with it? I remember wadding it up and tossing it.” He thought for a moment, then jumped up. “Let me check my office."

  He returned within a few minutes, smoothing out wrinkled sheets of paper. “Sorry it's in such bad shape. But she's really got me by the balls. As I told you,” he raised his brows, “I borrowed some money from the company. But in this letter, it sounds like Ryan and I were embezzling thousands of dollars of the company's profits. I only did it once, but it would be hard to prove with Ryan skimming every month, making it look like I was in on it."

  Tom scanned the letter, then glanced at Ken. “Do you think Ryan actually wrote this or do you think his wife did it with the computer program?"

  Ken flopped down on the couch. “Hard to say. They might have composed it together. But I do believe when the police moved in he got scared and panicked. I actually figured he committed suicide under the pressure. It surprised me when you said he'd been murdered."

  Tom folded the letter and stuck it into his pocket. “What do you think Mrs. Conners will want next, now that she has her car?"

  Ken's eyes turned fiery. He jumped up and paced the room. “She can go to hell as far as I'm concerned. She's not getting any more out of me."

  Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Don't turn her off yet. There just might be a link to the killer here."

  Ken halted abruptly, looking surprised. “Really? Autumn Conners?” He waved it off. “Come on, Tom. Give me a break. She's a piece of junk. Ryan only stayed with her because of the two little girls."

  “There could be an accomplice. I think she's hiding something.” He patted the pocket where he'd shoved the letter. “This gives me enough to put a man on her tail.” Before heading out the door, Tom turned, poking a finger in the air. “If she approaches you again, get in touch with me immediately."