Grace shook her head. "That won't work," she said gently. "You can't qualify for a mortgage because you're not employed. And you may need to use your house as collateral."
"Collateral? For what?" I asked.
"To post bail, Jamie," she said.
Chapter 6
It had been a long weekend and Grace had given me a lot to think about. Too much, in fact. Trying to keep myself from curling into the fetal position was a challenge, but I needed to stay upbeat for Aunt Peg. She had no idea what was coming, and I wasn't ready to tell her yet. The only thing keeping me sane was focusing on Adam and preparing for the ordeal to come. And so, first thing Monday morning, I made a phone call.
"Susan Doyle speaking."
The voice on the phone was confident, authoritative. She had a tone that said, 'This better be important, I have no time for nonsense.' She'd only said three words and I liked her already.
"Hello, this is Jamie Quinn, I'm Grace Anderson's friend… "
"Oh yes, Miss Quinn, I've been expecting your call. Grace told me about your cousin's situation. Unfortunately, it looks like the case is moving forward. On a personal note, I'm appalled that the state attorney has decided to prosecute with only circumstantial evidence and no apparent motive, but he's under a lot of pressure to put someone behind bars. Not to mention, there's a lot of publicity to be had," she added wryly.
"So I've heard," I said, feeling my jaw tighten. "I wanted to touch base with you for a few reasons. First, I'd like to know what to expect. My cousin may be twenty-two, but emotionally and socially, he's much younger. Adam is a gentle boy and he'd never hurt anyone; he's just not capable of it. With his Asperger's, he can't handle stress and I'm afraid this is going to destroy him…" I started crying, like I knew I would, and walked over to the kitchen sink to splash water on my face. I had to get a grip.
"I understand, Miss Quinn--Jamie--and I've been thinking about that. Adam will have to go through arrest and booking, but there are some things we can do for him. The state attorney will want a flashy arrest, but we can avoid that if Adam agrees to turn himself in. In addition, because of his Asperger's, I can ask the judge to appoint an attorney ad litem to protect him. Finally, I can ensure that Adam goes straight to court for his initial appearance, without spending any time in jail."
I breathed a sigh of relief--no jail! "How will you do that?"
"I think the state attorney will agree it would hurt his case if Adam had a breakdown in jail and ended up in a psychiatric hospital."
"I'm so glad you're on our side!" I said. "What will happen at the hearing?"
"The judge will determine if there's probable cause for the arrest. If the answer is yes, then he or she will appoint the public defender and set bail."
"That was my next question. How much would the bail be?" I was pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room.
"Hard to say. Your cousin certainly isn't a flight risk, but this is a capital crime and it's also a political hot potato. I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises."
"I understand. Just so you know, I'll be the one posting bail. What happens after that?" I had stopped pacing. Now I was chewing my nails.
"An arraignment hearing is usually held within 21 days of the first appearance. At that hearing, Adam will plead not guilty. The judge can revisit the bail at that time. Next, the state attorney reviews the case and decides if there is enough evidence to proceed. If they find enough evidence, then Adam will be formally charged. This must happen within 175 days of arrest." I could hear her talking to someone in the background.
"Thank-you so much. I don't want to take any more of your time, but please tell me what I can do to help…I'll do anything. I'll even make your coffee and sharpen your pencils."
Susan laughed. "What a great offer! Not necessary though. There is something important you can do, if it's within your means. We're on a tight budget over here. If you could hire a private investigator to dig around for information, it might make all the difference. You'll need one willing to stretch the rules, but you didn't hear that from me."
"Of course I'll do it! What kind of information do you need?"
"How about I e-mail you a list later today?" she said.
"Perfect! I can't thank you enough." I said, starting to tear up.
"So much appreciation and I haven't even done anything yet," she said with a laugh. "We'll talk soon, Jamie."
The smile left my face as soon as I hung up. Where was I going to find a dirty private investigator?
Chapter 7
True to her word, Susan Doyle e-mailed me the list a few hours later. It was three pages of questions that seemed impossible to answer. I felt as panicky as when I was in law school and dreamt I had a test I hadn't studied for, in a class I'd never been to.
Studying the list, I wondered how anyone, even a sleazy PI, could uncover some of these facts, like whether Spike had enemies, or whether he'd been in any arguments the week of his murder. I took a deep breath and looked at it again. There were actually a few questions I could answer myself, using public records. Before tackling this online scavenger hunt, I would make myself some coffee to ensure maximum alertness. Since I hardly slept anyway, one more cup wouldn't matter.
After sweeping the bills and my mom's estate papers off the desk, I sat down at my computer and pulled up the site for Florida Secretary of State Corporations. I decided to start there. Under 'corporate entities', I typed in "The Screaming Zombie," which was the name of the music store. Although I'd seen the store on Harrison Street many times, I'd always assumed it was a bar. When nothing popped up, I typed the name "Spike" under corporate officers and got a hit: "Spike Enterprises, Inc. d/b/a/ The Screaming Zombie." Spike was listed as the director. The only other officer was the treasurer, Marian Wolinsky. Need to find Marian Wolinsky I wrote on a legal pad.
I decided to pull up the music store's website and typed in: The Screaming Zombie. To my surprise, I got dozens of hits. Who knew The Screaming Zombies was the name of a heavy metal band? Apparently, everyone in the world did, except for me. I found online fan clubs and chat boards, as well as YouTube videos and downloadable songs. I even found a chart ranking the greatest drummers of all time, and Spike was one of them. At least now I understood the name of the store. Although The Screaming Zombies broke up in 2001, they still had many devoted fans, all of them heavily tattooed and pierced. I watched a video of the Zombies performing on You Tube and then watched an interview with Spike, which spooked me a little. While I never speak ill of the dead (at least I never have before), I will make an exception for Spike. After watching his interview, I was able to draw certain conclusions: 1) he was stoned; 2) he was an egomaniac; 3) he was a legend in his own mind; and 4) he was nasty and mean. He did say one interesting thing though: every time he went on a drinking binge, he brought home a new German shepherd. By the looks of him, he must have had quite a collection...
Next up, the actual website for the music store, where I found lots of information. I saw that they sold a wide array of instruments, and provided lessons for even more. The only instrument I didn't see listed in either category was the didgeridoo. I made a note on my pad. Whose didgeridoo was it? Next, I clicked on the 'Meet Our Instructors' link and hit the jackpot. All four instructors were listed (including Spike), with the instruments they taught and their photographs. I printed the page and made a note to Google each instructor later. I moved on to the 'About Us' section, which should have been called, "About Spike," because all five pages paid homage to him. Reading that, you'd think Spike was the greatest drummer ever born; that he'd been the star of the "The Screaming Zombies", and that the city of Hollywood should be grateful he chose to live there.
I must've dozed off for a minute with my head on the desk, because the next thing I knew my cellphone was ringing next to my ear. My ringtone is Vivaldi's violin concerto, Spring, and I was dreaming I was at the symphony with my mom. I woke up and fumbled with the phone.
"Hello?"
"Jamie, were you sleeping? I'm so sorry."
"It's alright, Aunt Peg…" I was still disoriented. It had been such a lovely dream…
"I hate to bother you, but…"
I sat up, suddenly wide wake. "What's wrong?
"Adam isn't doing well, he's having nightmares and he's barely eating. He's refusing to do his homework, or even play any music. His therapist started him on anti-anxiety medication, but it isn't working. He thinks we should try hypnotherapy to help Adam get past his traumatic experience." My aunt sounded exhausted and worried.
"Can you give the therapist permission to speak with me?" I had the beginning of an idea.
"Of course I will," she said, "but Jamie, I had another reason for calling. They were talking about the murder on the 11:00 news. They said Spike was killed with a didgeridoo..."
"I heard that, too."
"Jamie, I don't know how much more of this I can take!" Aunt Peg was crying into the phone.
"I don't understand," I said.
"The didgeridoo--they showed a picture of it. It was Adam's."
Chapter 8
Things just kept getting worse and all I wanted was to go back to my imaginary symphony. Was that so much to ask?
Now, I know I should've told my aunt what was going on when I had the chance, but I couldn't do it. You might judge me for it--but you weren't there. When Margaret Muller says she can't take much more, she means it, and I didn't want to be the one to push her over the edge. Still, I needed to know how the didgeridoo ended up in Spike's office, so I eased into asking Aunt Peg about it. Her explanation made sense to me: Adam had been teaching himself to play, and wanted to show off for Spike, so he brought the didgeridoo to his lesson the week before. Unfortunately, I knew that my nemesis, Nick the state attorney, wouldn't see it that way at all. To him, it would be proof that Adam had planned the attack. I spent a few more minutes comforting my aunt and then wrapped up the call, promising to keep in touch.
Although it was after midnight, and officially Tuesday, I was too wired to even try to sleep, so I went back to my scavenger hunt. First, I googled the music teachers. There was a married couple, Steve and Rosa Michaels. Steve taught trumpet and saxophone, Rosa taught flute and piccolo. My search revealed they had been high school sweethearts at Hollywood Hills High, where they'd played in band together. How cute!
The only other teacher, aside from Spike, was Olga Gonzalez, who taught piano and guitar. Nothing came up on her. While I was at it, I figured I'd do a search for Marian Wolinsky, the treasurer of Spike's corporation. I found that she managed a fan site dedicated to Spike, in all of his awesomeness. There were photos of Marian and Spike together all over the site. Marian looked like a biker chick, leather vest, tight jeans, black boots, and lots of tattoos. In almost every picture, she was looking at Spike adoringly. I wonder how much he had to pay her to do that!
Next up, the Broward Clerk's website, to search for criminal and civil court records. Not surprisingly, Spike had over a dozen speeding tickets and other traffic-related offenses, as well as drug possession charges from way back. The civil records told another story: Spike and Spike Enterprises, Inc. (d/b/a The Screaming Zombie), were being sued by none other than Snake, Slasher and Slime, a/k/a Daryl, Marcus and Ricardo, a/k/a the rest of the Zombies! The suit was over Spike's use of the band's name for his store. The plaintiffs were accusing Spike and Spike Enterprises, Inc., of unjust enrichment, trademark infringement, etc. That sure sounded like bad blood to me, but was it a motive for murder? I made more notes on my legal pad.
While I was on the court website, I ran Spike's name through probate and found that someone had already opened an estate for him. Only the personal representative can open the estate, so I scrolled down to see who that was. Drum roll, please….it was… Marian Wolinsky! I definitely needed to have a chat with this lady. I also planned to visit the courthouse to read Spike's will. Since Spike's beneficiaries stood to profit from his death, I wanted to know who they were. My legal pad was filling up.
Finally, I ran criminal checks on all of the staff. Marian had some old possession charges, as well as a charge of disturbing the peace, hardly shocking. She and Spike must've been partying pretty hard that night.
Olga Gonzalez, the piano teacher, had no criminal record, but the high school sweethearts were another story. It turned out Rosa Michaels had filed domestic violence restraining orders against Steve on three separate occasions, but then dismissed them. The most recent one was obtained only two weeks before Spike's death, and she had filed for divorce at the same time. It could be nothing, it could be something, but Steve sounded like a man in need of an anger management class, or two…
I'd had enough, my brain was fried. To quote Miss Scarlett, tomorrow is another day. I fell into bed, in search of Vivaldi.
Chapter 9
I woke up way too early because the cat, all twelve pounds of him, jumped on my head, yowling and demanding to be fed. He was always demanding something. I didn't mention that I have a cat before because I'm in denial. Mr. Paws was my mother's cat and I promised her I'd take care of him, even though we despised each other. That is, Mr. Paws and I despised each other, not my mother and I, just to clarify. Naturally, we don't get along any better now that it's just the two of us. I did take the liberty of changing his name from Mr. Paws to Mr. Pain in the Ass, but he never answers to anything anyway, except the sound of food being poured in his bowl.
After feeding his royal highness, I took a quick shower and got dressed. I poured my coffee into a to-go cup and grabbed a granola bar before dashing out the door. As you can tell, I'm not big on breakfast. Before I fired up the old Mini Cooper, I texted Grace.
"Morning, Sunshine! I'll be at the main courthouse later, you free for lunch?"
"I wish! How about I meet you over there for a quick visit?"
"Great! Lots to tell you. What time?" I texted back.
"10.00? Cafeteria?"
"Perfect, see you there. I'll be the one with the black cloud over her head."
"I think I'll recognize you…"
The line to enter the courthouse was snaky and long, like it was most mornings. That’s because all the judges schedule their motion calendars for 8:45 a.m. These non-evidentiary hearings are supposed to last only five minutes, but they never do, which causes crowds of people to spill into the hallways. It makes me feel claustrophobic and crabby. I knew it had to be a Tuesday because that's when the bearded preacher man with the wire glasses graces us with his presence. There he was, standing on his crate by the courthouse doors, yelling advice he got straight from Jesus. Deep sigh. I was in no mood to hear proselytizing...
I had no problem checking out Spike's probate file from the clerk. What I hoped to glean from the will was a clue that would point to someone other than Adam as the killer. But that didn't happen…
***
"You're kidding me! I can't believe it. Tell me again what the will said," Grace was buttering her everything bagel. We were in the courthouse cafeteria and I was catching her up.
"You heard me. Spike left his entire estate to a German Shepherd Rescue organization. The only other bequest was that he left his dog, Beast, to Marian Wolinsky, with $10,000.00 for his care." I was shaking my head, amazed by Spike's generosity. Maybe he wasn't as big a jerk as I'd thought.
"Go figure!" Grace said. "So, that's pretty interesting stuff you found, that lawsuit the Zombies filed, and the music teacher with the domestic violence problem. What's your next step?"
"I have a million questions for Marian Wolinsky, so that meeting needs to happen. Also, I have to find a PI who walks on the dark side, according to my new best friend Susan Doyle, and I have no idea how to find one…"
"Jamie! I thought I was your best friend. I'm going to let that slide. Do you remember my favorite Zen saying? You already have everything you need." Then she looked at me expectantly.
"What are you saying? That I know a dirty PI?" Maybe I was too tired to understand…then
it came to me, like a flash. "Duke? You want me to call Duke Broussard? No way! He's a creep."
"Exactly!" Grace laughed. "And he owes you, big time. You saved his skin when you handled his divorce. Right?"
"Oh, my God! His wife was so furious when she caught him cheating on her--she reported him to the IRS, the Better Business Bureau, the PI licensing board, the newspapers, and Angie's List. She trashed him all over Facebook and Twitter too. Talk about a woman scorned!" I laughed.
"Didn't she also buy a billboard on I-95?" Grace glanced at her watch and started tidying the table.
"Yes, she did! I forgot about that. Not the bimbo he thought she was, huh? Don't worry, Grace, I'll clean up. You get back to work," I said.
She gave me a peck on the cheek and turned to go. "Call him, Jamie. You know I'm right."
"Yeah, you usually are." I said.
Chapter 10
When I got home, there were two messages blinking on my answering machine. When did I become so popular? I listened to them as I sorted the mail. The first was Aunt Peg leaving me the name and number of Adam's therapist, Dr. Simon. The other was Susan Doyle asking if Adam would be able to take a polygraph in the future. What perfect timing, what synchronicity! Dr. Simon was the one person who could answer Susan's question. Not to mention I had some questions of my own for the good doctor. At least I hoped he was a good doctor…
I needed something to go right, especially since Spike's will had been such a dead end (Jamie, this isn't the time to make bad jokes!) Time was not on my side, and the Rolling Stones' couldn't convince me otherwise. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure Spike's murder had been a crime of passion or opportunity. Nobody plans to kill with a didgeridoo, for heaven's sake, especially one that wasn't there a week earlier. It had to be a person with access to the store, or someone Spike knew, which narrowed the possibilities to the following:
Death by Didgeridoo (Jamie Quinn Mystery Book 1) Page 3