“Jack, I have to begin by telling you how disappointed I am that you talked to the police all night before calling me.”
Swensen looked up from his hands. “I've got nothing to hide. Why shouldn't I talk to the police? I haven't done anything wrong.”
That was the second thing Perry noticed about his client. The guy didn't have a clue. “Obviously the cops don't see it that way. What were you thinking when they gave you your rights, not once but twice? The second time with that nice little tape recorder turning round and round.”
“They said they just had a few questions they wanted answered, some... details cleared up. And I can understand that. This is all pretty confusing to me. I really haven't done anything wrong, Ed. I'm as concerned about what's happened to my wife as anyone. That's what I told the police.”
Perry nodded his head sympathetically. Just past fifty years of age he was a man of average build who was slowly turning soft. He rarely saw the sun and his fair skin had the pasty pallor many successful lawyers acquire. Beneath his thinning reddish hair he wore rimless glasses that sparkled in the light and made it difficult to read his eyes. He'd been a prosecutor his first four years out of law school and knew the drill. Though his private practice was primarily civil he took on two or three criminal cases a year, if the client could afford him, just to keep his hand in. There was more press to be had from a single ripe criminal case than his entire annual civil litigation put together.
“I know you're tired, Jack, and a bit overwrought, but it's important that you back up to the beginning and tell me everything. I need to know what the police know. Would you like some breakfast? I can send Francine out for something.”
“No, just coffee for now. God, I'm dead tired. I've never been through anything like that before.” As Perry prodded, Swensen slowly related everything he could recall since arriving home the previous night and repeated what he had told the police. It was a rambling presentation that took 45 minutes and two cups of coffee. Perry recorded notes with a black felt tip pen on a legal size yellow tablet and gazed at his client intently.
“How about the night before? You say they were asking questions about a fight between you and Leah?”
“Yeah, they did, but we didn't have one. I set them straight and I think that takes care of it. It was a quiet night -- as usual. I went to the store for milk just before going to bed. Anyway, we don't fight, not loud like that anyway. Leah just cuts you down in quiet ways and I go into my office at home to work until it's over.”
“You're saying you two never had a vocal fight? Not once?”
“No, never.”
“Come on, Jack. They weren't asking out of the blue. They know something.”
Swensen scowled. “Well, about two months ago we had a...knock down drag out brawl, you might say. It was really something. It's possible one of the neighbors might have heard it and said something to the police.”
“You hit her?”
“No! I just mean it kept getting louder and louder. I guess the neighbors had to have heard. Most of the time I was yelling to get her to quiet down.”
“Just that one time? You're certain? Don't lie to me.”
“I'm not lying! That was it, and she picked the fight with me!”
“What was it about?”
Swensen shrugged. “Who knows? You know women.”
“You do, Jack. You were there.”
“I don't know, I tell you!”
“Jack. I'm on your side. Remember?”
“It was a long time ago. You can't expect me to...”
“I need to know, Jack. Now tell me!” Perry was nearly shouting.
Swensen stopped. He pursed his lips and blinked several times as if he had just been slapped. Finally he said, “O.K. Leah accused me of having an affair at the office, all right?”
“Were you?”
“Of course not,” Swensen said indignantly. He was suddenly sweating.
Perry lay his pen down and regarded his client and considered that it was always like this. The accused lied to their wives, lied to the police, lied to their lawyer. If they ever spoke the truth it was more often than not to some scum bag jailhouse cell mate planted by the cops to extract a confession.
“It's going to come out. You can't keep something like that a secret.”
“There is nothing to it. We're just friends.”
“So you're telling me you had no fight with Leah the night before last?” Perry said, changing tack for the time being. “Tell me about your insurance situation again.”
Swensen repeated what he told Morrison and Kosack.
“So you stand to collect half a million dollars.”
“It's $300,000, twice that in case of death other than by natural causes. I wouldn't kill anyone for that kind of money. Leah was always after me to take out more, but on me, not her.”
Perry wrote down the name of Swensen's agent. If this turned out the way it looked his client was going to need that money to pay Perry's fee. “All right. Getting back to Monday night. You stopped off for drinks with Jodi, Pete and Mike, then went home to find your house in disarray, blood and writing on the walls, and your wife absent. That's it? Nothing else?”
“That's it.”
“I understand part of the carpet is missing, some of the bedroom wall was cleaned and an attempt was made to wash another portion. What do you know about that?”
“Absolutely nothing. I didn't notice it at first. Then I saw the hole in the carpet and the smeared blood. I couldn't make any sense of it until the detectives asked me if I had tried to clean up the mess. I have to admit it is...strange.”
“Did you?”
“No! Jesus, Ed. What are you trying to suggest? Isn't it enough I had to put up with that crap from the cops?”
“You say the previous night you went for milk before going to bed. But that wasn't the reason for the trip, was it?”
Swensen suddenly looked in pain.
“Come on, Jack. If I could tell you were lying, so could the detectives.”
“I made a call, all right?” Then in a sinking voice he added, “And now that I think about it I don't remember mentioning the trip to the police.”
Perry didn't need to ask who his client had called. He was pretty certain he knew. “They're going to learn about it and it will make you look suspicious for leaving it out. If they find out which store you went to they'll have the telephone company pull all the numbers for calls made from the pay phones there and they'll know who was called. Hell, they may pull all the records for every store within easy driving distance. They'll interview clerks. Your Jaguar is pretty memorable.”
Swensen didn't respond.
“You understand the police will interview this Jodi Iverson about the two of you.” Swensen looked at his lawyer sharply as if he had never considered the possibility. “They'll talk to Cushing and Kaufman as well. Are you certain these people are going to tell the same story about having drinks that you have?”
For the first time Swensen looked distraught. “I... I figured if they were asked they'd back me up. I'm their boss, we're all friends. I've been good to them.” He laughed sheepishly. “Anyway, when I told the cops that I thought I'd be on my way in an hour or so.”
“So you're telling me it's a lie? You never had any drinks at the Palomino?”
Swensen sighed and removed his glasses. He wiped sweat from his face with his hands. “Not last night, no.”
“Jack. Tell me something. Just how is it these employees, these supposed friends of yours, are even supposed to know they should lie for you?”
“I... I didn't expect to be with the cops all night, like I said. I thought I'd get a chance...” He stopped and Perry stared at his client as if he were the dumbest human being he had ever seen. “I don't have anything to do with this and I really never thought they'd check the story out. Once I was in with it, Ed, what else could I do but stick it out?”
“So what about this Iverson woman? What is she going to tel
l the cops?”
“Are you certain they'll even talk to her and the others? What's the point? It's got nothing to do with Leah being missing.”
“Are you naive – or just stupid, Jack? It's got everything to do with it if you're the suspect. My guess is they've already talked to her. In a case like this the detectives work around the clock initially.”
“Suspect? Me?”
“Of course. Why else would they give you your rights? Don't play dumb here. You suspected something or you wouldn't have called me.”
“I was tired. I guess... yeah, I guess I thought they were getting pretty persistent. It was like they were never going to stop asking questions unless I called an end to it. I'm really bushed, Ed. Can't I just go home and we do this later?”
“The police have custody of your house until they have finished executing their search warrant and that will take a few days. I'll arrange to go with you so you can get some clothing and effects. It will give me a chance to examine the crime scene. Just a few more minutes here Jack, then you can go. Let me ask you again. What is Jodi Iverson going to tell the cops about the two of you?”
Swensen shrugged. “I don't know. Sometimes I wish I'd never met her.”
Perry laid his pen down. “Is it possible she will tell them that you two were having an affair?”
Swensen chewed on the question. “I guess so, now that I think about it.”
“You 'guess'?”
“She's pretty... frank, now that a think about it. She might tell them. She wouldn't see it as anything to lie about, not without a reason.” He gave a hard chuckle. “I guess I should have thought of that earlier.”
Perry held his temper. “Since you weren't at the Palomino, where were you that you thought you had to lie about it to the cops? And while you were at it, try to persuade your friends to lie for you.”
Swensen looked defeated now. He'd held up to the police all night, but his energy was dissipated. “I was with Jodi, like I said. But not in a bar.”
“Where?”
“At the office.”
“Let me get this straight. You are having an affair with a cutie at work. You're missing wife has a half million dollars in insurance on her. There's signs of a struggle and blood all over your bedroom. A bloody portion of the carpet is gone and the walls are smeared because somebody tried to clean up the mess. You lied to the police about having an affair. You lied about where you were last night. In fact, you were knocking off a piece at the office with your girlfriend?”
Swensen nodded his head slowly.
“Let me ask you just one final question, Jack,” Perry said, removing his glasses so Swensen could see his eyes clearly. “Are you trying to get yourself indicted for murder?”
Later that same morning John Goodnight's supervisor with the National Insurance Crime Detection Institute, Al Schiffman, telephoned. “I hear you rounded up something called the 'McGuire Gang' out there,” he began. Though he only worked out of Los Angeles, Schiffman always said “out there,” as if Arizona was on the other side of the country instead of an adjoining state.
The newspaper had run an article that morning detailing Goodnight's capture of Bobby McGuire who it reported had been rustling his own cattle. Goodnight's shot into McGuire's pickup truck tire had been portrayed as a shootout and the ranch hands who had surrendered without resistance were now the McGuire Gang. If Schiffman had already read about it then the piece had been put on the wire service.
“Hardly a gang, Al. And there was no gun fight.”
“Oh, I understand. You just stopped the claimant from fleeing the scene. But you gotta be careful with this stuff. It makes my bosses back East uneasy. They don't understand how things are in Arizona.”
“I haven't had time to even start the reports if that's why you called. My informant wants his check though.”
“Don't they all. Tell him it's in the mail. But that's not it. Do you know Allen Stone, claims manager with Combined Occidental Life Insurance?”
“Can't say that I do.”
“He's all worked up over some deal you've got out there. It seems his company handles health and life insurance for a business in Phoenix, Swensen Steel Company. Counting dependents he's got 38 insured. The wife of the owner has a three hundred thousand dollar policy on her with double indemnity in case of death by other than natural causes.”
“I saw an article in the paper here. She's reported missing and the police are treating it as a homicide. The husband's been questioned, but no arrest.”
“That's the one. The insured's name is Leah Swensen. Anyway, I take it the husband's the suspect from what Stone said. Well, the husband's lawyer, a guy named Ed Perry, called Stone about an hour ago and asked a lot of questions about the insurance policy. Stone thinks he's going to file a demand for payment.”
“The paper said they haven't located a body.”
“Is that right? Well, that's something Stone would like to know. And if the husband did it then of course he can't collect on the policy anyway. I think maybe this Perry is trying to squeeze a quick payment out just in case his client gets arrested, something to finance the defense. Anyway, Stone is all worked up over this. He's like that. He lost a big trial last month and hates lawsuits. He wants a report right away on the status of the investigation out there.”
“This is an ongoing homicide investigation. The police aren't going to take kindly to my asking questions. They're under no obligation to tell me anything. They don't even have to make the reports available, not until after the trial at least.”
“Stone's a real pain. I've worked with him before. If we don't give him something he'll just scream and yell until we do.”
“Why doesn't he just stick to his guns? There's no body, at least not yet. Until the police make an arrest, whether it's the husband or someone else, surely he can refuse payment. From what you said this Perry hasn't even made a demand.”
“Like I said, Stone just lost a big case and he's nervous. He wants something to hang his hat on so he can stonewall the lawyer. That way he can point the finger at us if something goes wrong. You know how it is.”
“You mean point the finger at me. O.K., Al, you're the boss. I'll nose around a bit and see what I can turn up, but I don't plan to step on any toes. Stone would be better off just waiting for the police to do their job.”
~
While Morrison was obtaining the search warrant for Swensen's Jaguar and the Acura, Kosack arrived back at Swensen Steel Company still burping his lunch. “Nice to see you,” Iverson breathed in her husky voice as she bared her small teeth in a smile. She was sitting behind a desk positioned in front of the door. Kosack removed his sunglasses. “Who are you here to see this time?” she asked. “Or am I the lucky one?”
“Paula Dinelli please.”
Iverson raised both eyebrows. “Maybe next time.” She spoke into the telephone before smiling again. “She'll be right out.”
Dinelli was a short, stocky woman in her mid-30's with a pageboy haircut and beneath the bangs hung huge dark eyes. Her thin lips resembled the line of a ruler and she had heavy plastic framed glasses. She was wearing a simple white blouse, a black skirt and flat loafers. She shook the detective's hand firmly, pumping it once like a Swiss banker, then led him into her small office where she closed the door. The room was crammed with grey metal filing cabinets though her computer was state of the art. It was in screen saver mode and was making a lazy colorful geometric design over and over. Above the gunmetal desk was a large wooden crucifix with faded palm leaves.
“How can I help you, detective?” Those were her words though her manner was anything but forthcoming.
“You're the office manager?”
The corners of her lips turned up in a brief, tight smile. “That's right. I'm sort of a Jack of all trades. What I do primarily is handle the books for the business, review all the estimates and bids before they go out, take care of the billing, see to accounts receivable, maintain the paperwork for taxes, p
ay the bills, issue the payroll, handle health insurance, things like that. I don't actually run the office.”
Dinelli wore no makeup and Kosack could detect no odor of any kind coming from her. “I'd like an overview of the company. Just how successful is Swensen Steel Company?”
She considered that a moment, then said with a measure of pride, “We are the fastest growing company of this type in the Southwest. Mr. Swensen is planning a move to a larger yard before the end of the year. We just obtained the county contract to provide the steel framing for the new west county complex. It will be our biggest job yet.”
“What exactly does the company do?”
“We erect steel frames for commercial projects, piecing as much of it together here as possible before moving to the site, primarily for two and three story buildings, covered parking. Things like that. The covered parking's been our mainstay since the company was started.”
“What kind of money are we talking about here?”
Dinelli eyed him suspiciously. “Is this really necessary? I don't understand what the company's financial position has to do with the events you are looking into.”
“It is necessary. I don't have to explain this to you but perhaps it will make things easier if I do. People are killed for many reasons. Money is one of them. Not the only one, but it pops up a lot in a homicide investigation.”
Dinelli grimaced then sighed as if she had determined this was an unpleasant affair to be ended as quickly as possible. “Last year's gross was just over ten million. You understand there are taxes, salaries, employee benefits that come out of that plus material and equipment maintenance.”
“Still, the company sounds as if it is doing just fine.”
“You could say that. I'm sure our competitors would if they knew. Our debt position is greater than I care for but manageable. You understand this information is confidential?”
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