Notorious

by Carey Baldwin

  “And did you?”

  “No. I suggested she speak directly to her husband. But I never asked Cindy about it.”

  Caity stopped scribbling. “Forgive me, Dutch, but I’m trying to understand this. It seems you had something like a don’t ask, don’t tell policy in your marriage. Did that go both ways? Were you having affairs, too?” Expectantly, she uncapped the green pen.

  “Not unless the FBI counts as a mistress. I guess in Cindy’s eyes, it did. You two are very fortunate to be able to work together. You both understand the demands of the job. If you weren’t colleagues, how would you have time for a relationship? In fact, in a way, working together is your relationship. That’s why there are so many ­couples in the FBI.”

  “Not to mention it smooths the issue of security clearance,” Spense said, only half joking.

  “I’m determined to use this green marker, Dutch.” Caity wrote the Bureau on the board. “You did say she was your mistress.” Next she got the blue pen out and used it to write Georgia and Kip Keiser.

  “Not as high on the list, because they managed to stay together,” Spense said. “Maybe put an asterisk by those names.”

  Caity shook her head. “You’re kidding? Right?”

  “You disagree, that the motive is less? It was a long time ago. Water under the bridge,” Spense said, then thought better of it. Was his father’s affair water under the bridge? Just because something happened in the distant past didn’t mean it couldn’t still hurt like hell.

  “I absolutely disagree. In fact, I’m adding an exclamation point by Georgia’s name.” And she did. “Georgia was pregnant at the time of the affair. I can tell you, from a woman’s perspective, there are very few crimes worse than that. Anything that could affect the children, ups the pain. And not only that, because Georgia took the initiative to contact Dutch, we know she’s a woman who doesn’t sit back on her hands. She’s a woman who acts. A wound like that could’ve been festering for years, then something, an anniversary, or a found memento, for example, triggered a sudden rage.”

  “Okay. You can keep your exclamation point,” Spense conceded before turning back to Dutch. “Who else?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “But you believe there are more.”

  “I’m not aware of anyone, but the rest of the world seems to think so. And the rumors have been swirling faster than ever these last months. It doesn’t take much to become notorious in Dallas high society. If you’re guilty once, you’re guilty forever. Mistakes are never forgotten, and definitely not forgiven.”

  “According to Heather, who you say was Cindy’s one true friend, Cindy hadn’t had an extramarital affair in years.” Caity capped her green marker and sent Dutch an empathetic look. Like Spense, she seemed to wish she could rewrite history and posthumously turn Cindy into a faithful wife. “But here’s something I don’t get. Heather knew about all of Cindy’s past affairs. So if she had taken a new lover, how is it possible that Heather doesn’t know about that—­assuming it’s true? And even more confusing, Heather keeps pointing the finger at you, Dutch. In all the Dateline episodes I’ve ever watched, it’s always the victim’s best friend who guides police in the right direction. The best friend always knows.”

  Dutch knit his brow. “Caitlin, it sounds like you’re saying you think I did it.”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. What I’m saying is I think Heather Cambridge knows more than she’s letting on. She’s lying . . . to protect someone.”

  Subject Unknown, Caity wrote in blue, and put two exclamation points by the label.

  “If Cindy had a new lover and held true to her pattern,” she said, “he would be a married man. And thus, either the lover or the lover’s wife, would have the strongest motive of all, since that affair was ongoing.”

  “Dutch, you really have no idea who that man might be?” Spense asked.

  “I’m trying to think, but I just don’t know. Cindy spent most of her time with Heather, scheming to put Matt in the White House. I really don’t see how she had time for an affair unless it was with Heather herself.”

  Caity and Spense exchanged glances.

  Dutch shook his head. “I know my wife’s sexual tastes, and they don’t swing that direction.”

  The marker bounced between Caity’s fingers. “Okay. We’ll have to trust your judgment on that one. Cindy’s lover was male. I’d like to move on to your list, now. Can we come up with some names of ­people who might have it in for you?”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “That list is long. We’d have to go back into the files and find everyone I’ve ever locked away. Narrowing that group down would be difficult to do in a short amount of time. It can be done, but not quickly. We’d have to find out who’s in prison, who’s dead, or out of the country, etc.”

  “Technically, that may be true. But here’s where a profiler thinks differently than a field agent. We like to work by inclusion rather than by a process of elimination.” Spense wasn’t sure he was making himself clear.

  “Not following.”

  “Instead of ruling ­people out, we’ll try to rule them in. Let’s start by noting the characteristics of Cindy’s death. Brutal, designed to humiliate. Personal. This doesn’t seem likely to be revenge taken against you for locking someone away. For that, a person would’ve come after you directly. If this is aimed at you, it has to be by someone who cares more about making you suffer than about seeing you dead. Let’s include names of anyone like that.”

  “Maybe Cindy was just an easier target.”

  “At a fund-­raising ball, no one’s an easy target,” Caity contributed. “What about Tesarak? Sorry to bring it up, but you shot and killed the man. I can see a family member wanting you to know how it feels to lose someone you love.” She added Tesarak to the green column. “And according to the reports leaked to the press, Cindy was killed with a revolver, not a pistol. So this was probably someone with no military or police experience. That fits with a family member.”

  Dutch nodded. “Cindy’s killer didn’t behave like a professional. I think we can lock down the idea that whoever killed her later wised up and hired someone with experience to get the diary and come after me. Spense became a target the moment he saw the Thresher’s face. Caitlin is probably just collateral damage. Or maybe the killer figured she knew too much . . .”

  “About what?” Caity drew a big circle on the board between Cindy’s long blue column and Dutch’s short green one. “Where do your secrets intersect with hers?”

  The silence ticked loud and hard in their ears.

  “Sorry, but I don’t see any connection—­between Tesarak or my work at the Bureau and Cindy’s affairs.”

  Neither did Spense. Though if there was one, that would blow this case wide open. “Okay, what else then? Which of Cindy’s paramours had the most to lose if word got out about the affair.”

  “They were all powerful men, and wealthy, except of course for the tennis pro, and he’s got an airtight alibi—­otherwise known as a coffin.”

  “Cindy told you she was going to meet the governor that night,” Caity said. “And you said she’d been spending all her time working on his campaign . . . but Matt Cambridge had a DPS security detail on him. He couldn’t possibly have killed Cindy, according to them. I wish we had the diary because then Cindy could talk to us, and if we listen well enough, she would very likely lead us to the truth.”

  “But we don’t,” Spense said. They’d given the whiteboard a solid chance and come up with very little. “I think the only option we have left is good old-­fashioned police work, and yes I’m talking about shoe leather. I’ll start by setting up an interview with Georgia Keiser and Sue Ellen James—­the women scorned. Dutch, you hang out here in the basement and keep a low profile. Caity, would you care to join me in interrogating the Dallas housewives?”

 
“Of course, but first, I want to review the file Sheridan gave us when we did the walk-­through at Worthington Mansion. I think the statements from the governor’s security detail are in there, and I want to see them with my own eyes.”

  “Why do I have to stay behind while you two take all the risks?” Dutch didn’t sound pleased.

  “Because it’s a good chance for you to turn the house upside down looking for the diary again, but more importantly, Caity and I won’t get arrested just for showing our faces around town. Sheridan still has a BOLO out on you.”

  “Point taken, but the monster behind the monster could strike at any time.” Dutch put an arm around each of them. “So please, be careful out there.”

  Chapter Twenty-­Five

  Monday, October 21

  10:00 A.M.

  Dallas, Texas

  SELF-­CONSCIOUSLY, CAITLIN TUGGED the sleeves of her tailored cotton blouse lower over her wrists, making sure her wounds were well covered. Not that either of the women in the room noticed much about her. They seemed to only have eyes for Spense, and really, how could she blame them?

  Spense looked beyond handsome in his best sports jacket and tie. Georgia Keiser and Sue Ellen Zachek (formerly Sue Ellen James) sat across from him, stiff-­backed and well apart on a Queen Anne sofa in a conference room at the Fairview Hotel. At first, Caitlin had a hard time telling them apart even though she’d studied their photos in the society pages. Both women were of a particular type. Brunettes who’d bleached their graying locks to near platinum, then teased the top, pageant style, and added extensions. Their wealth showed in their appearance. They wore designer clothing, and much time and effort had obviously been extended making them up to look “natural.”

  They sported Botox, filled cheekbones, full lips—­but again, not overdone—­and figures that spoke of salad dinners, personal trainers, and, perhaps, diet pills. These women were fighting the battle against aging and winning. But there was one fight they’d lost or at least in Georgia’s case come close to losing: the war to hang on to their wealthy husbands’ affections.

  By all accounts, Cindy had been only one of multiple women to come between them and their spouses. Which begged the question, why would either of them single Cindy out for revenge. She couldn’t have been the easiest target, and certainly not at a public event. And though it might be unkind for Caitlin to think it, neither Sue Ellen nor Georgia seemed to have the initiative required to commit murder, then keep her mouth shut about it. That sort of thing took fortitude.

  “Thank you both for agreeing to meet with us,” Caitlin said, noticing that the women kept their gazes on Spense even when she spoke directly to them. “I realize it’s unorthodox to interview you together. But I want to assure you that we’re not singling you out as suspects. And time is of the essence. However, if either of you want a separate conversation, we can arrange that at any time. Just say the word.”

  Sue Ellen smiled sweetly. “Which of us would you take, Agent Spenser?”

  “Dr. Cassidy and I would both do the honors. One of you can wait in the other room until the other is done.”

  “So we wouldn’t be alone with you?”

  “No. Nothing to worry about on that score.”

  “I wasn’t worried.” Sue Ellen batted her eyelashes.

  Caitlin swallowed her irritation. Since they’d returned from the stockyards, things had been gradually returning to normal between Spense and her. He no longer pulled away if she touched his hand, and she’d caught him watching her more than once. But he hadn’t said he’d forgiven her, they hadn’t kissed, and certainly, he hadn’t come to her bed. So while Sue Ellen was a single woman and perfectly within her rights to flirt with Spense, who was undoubtedly the finest male specimen she was ever likely to come across, it cut Caitlin straight to the heart to have to watch. And if Sue Ellen thought she could game them, she had another think coming. “I see you’ve got a good rapport going already, Spense, so why don’t you go ahead with the questions.”

  He shrugged as if to say he couldn’t help his charm. And honestly, she didn’t think he could. He was just naturally sexy without even trying.

  Georgia shot Sue Ellen a disbelieving look. “I get that you’re single, and I get you don’t have any love lost for Cindy. She fucked my husband, too—­when I was pregnant if you’ll recall. But she’s dead, Sue Ellen. Don’t you think you could turn off your inner slut long enough to help the police catch her killer?”

  The words inner slut set off warning bells in Caitlin’s head.

  “You’re the slut, Georgia. And you hated her every bit as much as I did, so don’t put on the phony-­baloney sympathy act just because she’s dead. You don’t fool me one bit.”

  “I’m not pretending to be sorry she’s dead. I am sorry. Believe it or not, I pitied her.”

  “How’s that?” Caitlin asked, genuinely interested. This was something she hadn’t expected from Georgia.

  “Cynthia Langhorne was one of the saddest women I’ve ever known. After she ended the affair with Kip, she came to me and apologized. She had no idea that I was expecting . . . not that that excused anything. But she said she didn’t know, and I believed her. She also said Kip told her we were separated.”

  “Was that true?”

  “Almost. Before I found out about the baby, we were talking divorce. Kip was in the process of looking for his own place when the affair started. He took his sweet time ending it, though, even after we found out I was pregnant and after he’d agreed to go to counseling. I believe Cindy’s story that Kip lied to her, because, as I found out later, she wasn’t really that into him. Kip told me he thought Cindy had used him to make Dutch jealous. Apparently, she talked about her husband constantly. Even called his name out during sex. It was quite a blow to Kip’s ego.” She turned to the woman beside her. “Don’t you dare look down your nose at me, Sue Ellen. Peter’s no prize, you know.”

  “I’m not looking down my nose. I just can’t understand why you stayed with Kip. I certainly wouldn’t have taken him back.”

  “I was trying to give my unborn child a happy home. And I have. Besides, everyone knows you begged Peter not to leave you.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “You’re a laughingstock.”

  “Ladies.” Spense grimaced. “If we could get back to the matter at hand . . . the reason we brought you in is that we’re hoping you can tell us more about Cindy Langhorne. After all you’re both—­”

  “Gossips?” Georgia’s face flushed.

  “In the loop as far as the Dallas social scene is concerned.” Spense looked to Caitlin for help. Perverse of her to let him go it alone, but she stayed silent. “Was there anything you heard via the grapevine about a new affair? Any speculation about who that might’ve been with?”

  “Hasn’t anyone told you?” Sue Ellen asked.

  “No. No one’s offered up any names up at all,” Spense said.

  Of course, the only other person they’d had a chance to talk to was Heather Cambridge.

  Sue Ellen and Georgia exchanged a glance, then Sue Ellen continued, “Matt Cambridge. We tried to warn Heather, but she brushed us off. She said Cindy would never do such a thing to her.”

  Georgia smoothed her hand back and forth over the silky fabric on the couch. “I remember thinking how strange it was that Heather said Cindy would never do such a thing to her. She didn’t seem to find it hard to believe that her husband, Matt, would cheat on her.”

  “He’s a politician,” Sue Ellen jumped in. “Heather’s known for years about his wandering eye. She even told him straight out she didn’t care what he did, only he better not get caught at it and ruin his chance at the White House.”

  “That’s just a rumor.”

  “It’s a rumor straight from the horse’s mouth. Heather told me herself she warned Matt he better start keeping it in his pants or he�
�d wind up like Gary somebody or other.”

  “Gary Hart?” Caitlin asked Sue Ellen.

  “Yeah. I think. Maybe. That sounds familiar. I didn’t know who she meant, and I guess I was embarrassed to say so.”

  “He was a front runner for the Democratic presidential nomination until he got caught partying in the Bahamas with his mistress and had to withdraw from the race.”

  “When?” Georgia asked.

  “I think it was ’87 or ’88,” Spense supplied, impressing Caitlin.

  “No,” Georgia gave Sue Ellen a how-­could-­you look. “I meant when did Heather tell you that shit, and why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “I don’t tell you everything. Why should I? Heather told me in the limo on the way home from Vegas after my niece’s wedding shower. She’d had quite a few margaritas, and we’d smoked a little weed in the car.”

  “I don’t believe it. You must’ve been drunk.”

  “We both were. But I wasn’t too high to remember the conversation.”

  Caitlin tried to pull the women away from their personal issues and back on track. “Do either of you think Matt Cambridge would risk his shot at the presidency for Cindy Langhorne?”

  “For Cindy?” Georgia nodded. “Hell yes. He tried to hook up with her when he first met her, but she wasn’t interested and passed him on to Heather.”

  That fit with what Heather had told them.

  “He never got over Cindy,” Sue Ellen said.

  That, on the other hand, was new information. And ­coupled with what Caitlin had learned from the statements the protective detail had given Sheridan, things were starting to take a turn in the prime-­suspect department.

  “Besides, it’s Heather who’s always had her eye on Washington. If you ask me, which, hey, you just did, Matt would still be trying to make partner at that shitty little law firm if Heather hadn’t taken him in hand. Not that I don’t give him some credit for making it to the governor’s office. He’s got the charm. He just never had the ambition. Not until he met Heather anyway.”