by Fred Limberg
“All but Karen Hewes.”
“After you meet Karen call me. Come see my computer and we’ll talk. You need to meet them all first.” This was a change from her earlier attitude. Ray wondered if she would share more information about the ‘Go Girls’. Tony had thought she might.
“Can time stamps on a computer be altered?” she asked.
“Don’t mess with the computer, Lakisha.”
“I won’t, not until after you’ve checked it out. A woman needs a strong alibi from time to time.”
“You’re thinking about a plot twist now, aren’t you?”
“You got me.” She laughed softly and said good night. Not goodbye…good night.
“Don’t mess with the computer.”
Chapter 17
De Luca wondered if being exhausted at the start of every day was a detective’s lot in life. Tuesday started at a hung-over four in the morning with the discovery of Deanna Fredrickson’s body. After putting twelve hours in on the case, Wednesday had fallen apart with the late visit to Sue Ellen’s. The escalating threat implied by the bullet outside her door galvanizing her protectors. She was hustled off to a hotel with three guards in tow. Finally home, Tony had tried to sleep but there were too many things banging around in his head. What little shut-eye he got was shallow and filled with questions and worry and the ghost of Deanna Fredrickson.
Tony wasn’t happy with Ray Bankston. Ray had decided to wait until afternoon to get the team together to compare notes. He could have not slept for at least another hour. A seven o’clock meeting required a six o’clock alarm. Between yawns Tony was working on his interview transcriptions when Carol Offord came into the squad room. She was wearing a navy blue business suit and looked rested and scrubbed and fresh. She said ‘hi’ much too cheerfully in his opinion.
“You should try one of those energy drinks,” she offered. Tony had tried them and every time had caromed off walls, ceilings and other people. He’d stick with coffee, even though the squad room brew was worse than Mae’s percolated poison.
“You should…” Tony caught himself. He strangled the suggestion in his throat. No sense making an enemy before 7:30. “Never mind.” He went back to his reports.
Carol stood at his desk looking down at him. “Did you clear the kid, the roommate? Ray and I worked more of the friends yesterday.”
“I finally talked to him. I’m not clearing him though. Not yet.”
She frowned. “No alibi?”
“It’s weak. I’m not sure. I’ll talk it over with Ray.”
“Try it out on me. I’ve got some time.” Tony didn’t want to. She came across way too perky and helpful. It made him suspicious. Then again, he reasoned, maybe it’s just fatigue and foul mood and worries about Sue Ellen. Ah, what the hell.
“He says he spent the night at a girlfriend’s. She confirms him being there Sunday night but doesn’t have a strong sense of Monday morning arriving on time.”
“Flaky?”
“More like nasty. Pot smoke in the air, a quart of Kharkov vodka, neat, and she forgot her undies.”
Carol flashed a thin humorless smile. “How exciting for you.”
“Uh…no. But I don’t think she was lying about Sunday night.”
“But not Monday?” Tony shook his head.
“It’s Monday morning that matters.”
Tony glanced at his notes. “He had a class at 9:00. Said he was there. It’s on my list for today. If he was in class at 9:00 he’d have had to hustle either from the woman’s apartment or from the Fredrickson house to make it outside the TOD. He doesn’t have a car, according to the roommates. It could clear him in my mind.”
“I’d buy that.”
Tony decided that Carol wasn’t picking on him. It wasn’t her fault she’d gotten some rest. Ray came from the lieutenant’s office and greeted his way down the row of desks. He looked good too, in his tan suit and white shirt and tie. Tony’s sport coat showed hangar marks on the shoulders and his jeans had one day on them for sure. Tony caught Ray’s critical look and held up is hands in surrender.
“I’ll fit right in at the U, boss. I’m still working on Stuckey.”
“I wanted you with me on the Hewes’ woman this morning. Didn’t I tell you that last night?”
“Nope.”
“You look like hell, son.”
Carol went through a fast slide show of expressions during the exchange. When Ray said he wanted Tony with him she wilted. She wanted to go on the interview. Then when Ray told Tony he looked like hell, she blossomed, perked back up and turned her sunny face toward the boss.
“You got a sweater or something somewhere?” Ray asked.
“At home?”
Tony, resigned to being a victim of his wardrobe, guessed now that he’d just have to do the reports and go to the U and check out Stuckey’s class. No working with Ray, but maybe get a chance to hit a department store later. Penney’s has some nice stuff, he thought. Surely it wouldn’t be another twelve hour day.
“Well, come on.” Ray was shaking his head. “Carol, what I’d like you to do is pull everything we’ve got together for later. You write the best synopses of anyone in the department. I really ought to get you to work up something for training.” Ray’s praise fell on disappointed ears.
“Ted and Vang might get pulled. There was a suspicious death in St. Anthony Park this morning.”
“That could leave us short-handed,” Carol warned.
Ray, already walking toward the door called out over his shoulder, “We’ve still got ’em for now and, truth be told, we haven’t got a lot of doors to knock on right now. Let’s see how the day plays out.”
As they headed out Tony turned at the door, caught Carol’s eye, and winked at her. She gave him the finger. Revenge lurked in the tight smile on her face.
the Hewes’ didn’t live far from the Fedrickson’s house, but it was enough for a walk to be impractical; maybe twenty blocks. The neighborhood was similar with older homes, many of them brick or stucco and well cared for. the Hewes’ home had no driveway, none of the houses on the street did. The garages were in back, fronting an alley. It was a two story structure with a steeply pitched roof and dormer windows. It was easily the nicest house on the block.
Karen Hewes answered the door. She dressed in black denim jeans and a cream colored turtleneck sweater. She reminded Tony of Deanna Fredrickson and Roxie Kennebrew right away. He knew they were all near the same age, mid 40’s, but like the other ‘Go Girls’ it was easy to misplace a decade looking at her. She had short ash blond hair styled to frame her face. Her skin was smooth and well made up, a hint of blush on her cheeks, and her eyes weren’t red rimmed and tortured like the other women’s had been. But then, she’d had a couple of days to pull herself together.
And like the other ‘Go Girls’ she was trim and fit. She didn’t have an hourglass figure, Tony noted, but she didn’t miss it by much. Her jeans were snug over ample hips. Tony thought she looked kind of busty even with the bulky sweater on. He guessed she went 5’8” or so and saw she was in her socks.
While Ray was making introductions Tony took a moment to observe her. He didn’t see the confidence in her that he’d sensed in the other women. It wasn’t furtiveness exactly, but she seemed hesitant, almost subservient. He saw her look back over her shoulder twice, like she was nervous, like there was someone watching her.
There was.
Gary Hewes, a rangy six-and-a-half footer with salt and pepper hair and a breezy confident attitude inserted himself in the conversation in the doorway, all handshakes and howdy-do. He was dressed in trousers and a crisp white ironed shirt and tie—a suit, save for the jacket. He herded everyone through an immaculate living room to a kitchen that had seen extensive renovation. Gary noticed Tony’s admiring look.
“Did most of it myself. I’m a contractor.” Gary grinned. “Cherry cabs and Corian tops, did all that myself. It’s got the Viking range, the big one, and the biggest goddamn refrige
rator I could find.” Tony was impressed. It was good work. To his right an archway revealed a slice of an elegantly appointed formal dining room.
“That was the old kitchen space. I moved a wall or two. The whole first floor has been re-done.”
Karen poured coffee for everyone and they settled around an antique oak table in the breakfast area.
Ray regained charge of the conversation and said, “I just have a few questions for right now.”
“Oh, we know all about it. We’ve talked to the others, to Scott and Ken.” Ray had been talking to Karen. Gary answered for her.
“The questions I have are for Mrs. Hewes,” Ray said evenly, his half-smile on now.
“You go right on ahead and ask away,” Gary said. Green as he was Tony could see it coming. Ray turned back toward the woman.
“We need to know where you were Sunday night and Monday morning.”
“She was here at home. We had supper about seven and watched some TV,” Gary said.
Ray looked toward Gary, still smiling. “Mr. Hewes, I need to talk to your wife. I’ll have some questions for you later.” Gary nodded as if he understood what Ray was saying.
“Now, Mrs. Hewes…”
“Oh, you can call her Karen. That’s her name.” Gary hadn’t gotten it. Ray’s smile faded.
“Mr. Hewes, I’m going to ask you to leave the room. I need to talk to your wife right now. We’ll talk to you later.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have to leave the room. This is my house.”
Ray sighed and looked over at Tony. “Then I guess we’ll have to do this interview at my house, Mr. Hewes. That would be at headquarters, over on Seventh Street.”
“What are you saying?” The good humor and politeness gone from Hewes’ voice made Tony tense slightly. Gary Hewes was big and solid. Tony didn’t doubt he could handle him but it wouldn’t be fun.
“I’m saying that if you give us some privacy here and let me interview your wife we can save a trip downtown. This is much more pleasant and the coffee is really outstanding, isn’t it Tony?” De Luca nodded, keeping his eyes on Gary, who was smoldering now. “Go upstairs or outside or wherever you want. I have some questions for your wife. I can ask them here or at headquarters.”
Gary wouldn’t let go. “What if she wants a lawyer?”
“That’s her right. It’s your right, too, when it’s your turn. It’s not your turn now, Mr. Hewes.”
“She wants a lawyer.”
“Fine.” Ray turned to Tony. “Detective de Luca, will you please go to the car and call for a black and white…”
“Stop it!” Karen was glaring at her husband but talking to Ray. “I don’t want a lawyer. I don’t want to go to the police station.”
“But honey…”
“Gary, it’s okay. Go downstairs. Let us talk.”
“But…”
Tony caught the pleading tone in Karen’s voice when she told her husband to leave, to let her do what she had to without his imprint. He suspected that this was not the norm in the Hewes’ household.
“Please?”
Tony knew the hateful look Gary Hewes gave them when he left the room was his way of saving face; of hiding his misplaced embarrassment over having his wife tell him what to do. He felt sorry for him. Not because he was being banished to the basement like a misbehaving child, but because he sensed the man didn’t realize that he was wrong and probably wouldn’t learn better anytime soon, if ever.
“I’m sorry about that,” Karen said. Her cheeks were bright red.
“We’ll be as brief as possible. Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer, Mrs. Hewes?”
“Please, call me Karen. No. What on earth would I need a lawyer for?” The tension was slowly draining from the room. Karen refilled their cups and leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“Monday morning?”
“Monday. Gary was up and out early. He had a 6:30 meeting so I know I was up at 5:30 to get his breakfast for him and get him out the door.”
“What did you do then, Karen?” To Tony it was like watching a levee break. First a small rivulet breaches it, just a trickle. Then as more of the dam washes away the trickle becomes a stream and the stream becomes a river and finally the river becomes a torrent.
“I called Dee.” She held her head up, trying to be strong. Her eyes filled with tears. “I knew she had something at the hospital that morning but it was so early I thought we could have coffee or get something.” The first small sobs began. “She didn’t answer.” Her quivering shoulders joined the sobs. She hugged herself to stop them.
Ray had a solemn look on his face. He gave her time to collect herself by flipping through his notebook. Tony noticed he was looking in the front of it.
“You didn’t leave a message.” Ray found what he was looking for. There were only two messages on the machine, one from the son and one from the husband.
“No. I guessed she was in the shower.”
“I see.”
“I was already dressed so I decided to just go over there.” Ray and Tony shared a concerned look.
“What time was this?”
“7:30? Maybe closer to 8:00.”
“Did you talk to her? Was she there?” Tony was glad Ray was doing the talking. He could keep the excitement out of his voice, temper the anxiety. Tony wasn’t sure he’d be able to. The woman had been there during the window of time they’d determined that Deanna had been murdered.
“No. She didn’t answer the door. I assumed I’d missed her.” She looked from Tony to Ray and back. Ray’s face was blank, impassionate. Tony’s expression must have been amazement or excitement. Karen’s expression changed from curiosity to fear, and finally to despair. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
“How did you know she was gone?”
“She was lying in there dead, wasn’t she?” Karen’ shoulders shook again.
Ray asked the question again. “How did you know she was gone?”
“I didn’t. I guessed. She was in there wasn’t she?” Karen’s voice was rising with each answer. Tony looked at the basement door with concern.
“Was her car gone?”
“I don’t…I don’t know. She kept it in the garage.”
“Did you look in there?”
“No. I just assumed she was gone already.”
“Where did you park?”
“What? Why?”
“Did you park in the driveway?”
“She was already dead, wasn’t she?”
“Please, Mrs. Hewes. Karen. Did you park in the driveway?”
“No. On the street.” Karen was leaving them, Tony noticed. She was focusing on something out of the window in the tiny backyard. Her voice and mannerisms changed. He wondered if she was going into shock.
“What did you do then?” Tears ran down her cheeks while Karen stared out the window. Tony guessed she didn’t even hear the question.
“What did you do then?”
“She was dead. Dee was dead.” Tony saw the moist stains on her sweater and on her jeans where tears flowed unchecked from the burst levee. She didn’t wipe them. She didn’t even know they were there.
“She was dead.”
Chapter 18
“Gary was kind of pissed you made his wife cry,” Tony joked from the passenger seat as they drove toward Minneapolis and the U campus. He’d had to do some arm twisting when Karen’s husband came up from the basement. Tony hoped Ray would find the humor in it.
“That interview could have gone better.”
As big as Gary Hewes was he hadn’t had a chance against de Luca’s training and years of experience on the streets. Tony had him down and ready for the cuffs in about three seconds.
Ray frowned at the windshield as they rolled down the interstate. “As interesting as it is that the woman says she was at the house the morning of the murder, we didn’t get very far with anything else, did we?”
“No,” Tony agreed. He thought he heard some
thing else, some doubt in Ray’s tone. “Are you saying she wasn’t at the house?”
“I’m not saying that. Sure would be nice to have a witness, though.”
Tony couldn’t disagree, but he would have bet a large sum that the woman wasn’t acting. She’d been shaken. “We’re going to have to take another run at her aren’t we?”
“Oh yes,” Ray said.
“Mr. Hewes isn’t going to like that.”
Ray turned his head toward Tony, smiling now. “Let’s not let him know.”
“I like that idea. I’d really hate to have to put him on the ground again. Tell me something Ray. Do you really think Karen is a suspect? Or Lakisha Marland? Or Tia Bork?”
“Now we’re at a teaching moment, detective. Write this down: Everyone Deanna Fredrickson knew is a suspect. Everyone she knew or had contact with is a suspect until we clear them.”
“Okay.”
“And not just in this case. Every case is the same in this respect, Tony. Everyone is a suspect until they’re absolutely positively unimpeachably cleared.”
“I understand. I mean, it’s obvious, right?”
Ray chuckled. “So obvious that it’s easy to forget.”
They exited the freeway and entered the labyrinth that was the University of Minnesota campus. East Bank. West Bank. Dinkytown. Frat Row. No Left Turn. One way. Construction Zone. Of the thousands of students and teachers presently on campus they were looking for a Professor Galbraith who taught History of the Cinema on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
It took a while.
Professor Galbraith had no idea who Sean Stuckey was. He rarely attended the ‘History’ screenings, leaving the task to his TAs, graduate students who were working part time while they pursued their advanced degrees and were, Tony thought, as arrogant and unhelpful as the professor. Tony and Ray tracked them down one by one, by phone and in person.
They finally cornered their last prey hiding in a dark room full of editing equipment. His name was Gordon. He was editing a documentary of some kind. Flickering video images of people in lab coats talking earnestly were pointing at pictures of Earth on the TV monitor. A tinny dialogue ran underneath. It promised the end of the world as we know it every thirty seconds or so.