You never can tell where you’ll get the break you need to solve a crime. As much emphasis as there is on forensic evidence like DNA, fingerprints, or trace material transferred at the time the crime occurred, it’s more often human character that tells the tale. Maybe, the culprit can’t keep the dirty deed a secret, confides in someone or boasts about it in public or private, and the wrong person overhears it. Or there’s a falling out between lovers or friends, or among co-conspirators. Liars never can keep their stories straight. Alibis disappear, or bad guys lose what little hold they have left on anything normal and act out as if begging to be caught. The end of the line for Dave’s killer came about in just such a way.
Our morning had started off steeped in murder and mayhem. Jack had that “cat that swallowed the canary” look on his face as he headed out the door to the Lost Hills police station first thing. Hank had finally arranged to bring Adam Middlemarch in for a sit down around the same time Emily Lombard was scheduled to have her interview. He’d planned to make sure their paths crossed. Then Jack was off to LA for his Q & A session with Jennifer Wainwright.
“Things are about to happen, sweetheart. I can feel it in my old detective bones.”
“Vintage, darling, not old. Take care of them, will you? I’ve grown quite fond of them. Jennifer Wainwright is a wily dame if there ever was one! Ruthless, too, if she’s the mastermind behind theft, two murders, assault, and who knows what else. Yesterday, I told Meg to hire a good lawyer for Maggie in case there’s something dicey about Dave’s will.”
When I called Jack from my office later, he wasn’t as upbeat after learning that Adam had no tattoo of any kind on his arm. Emily Lombard wasn’t much help either when it came to identifying Adam as the guy she’d seen Friday night on Dave’s property. He was about the right size, but in the dark hadn’t seen his face clearly enough to say Adam was the same man. Disappointing news, but I had a tidbit that would lift his spirits.
“Carol says it’s Jennifer wearing those gold loop earrings at the gala. She’ll text you a copy of photos she’s found if you want them.”
“Are you sure?” I thought my detective pal was on the verge of a woohoo by the surge of enthusiasm in his voice.
“Carol also tells me she dug up a picture or two where Jennifer and Dave are out on the town together. No one ever pegged them as a couple, but the body language says more than colleagues to me. Do you want those pictures for your chat with Jennifer?”
“Please. Have Carol send them all to me right away. My chat may not be a very long one, however, given that Jennifer works in a building full of attorneys. It won’t surprise me if she lawyers up quick. I’m going to bring her down to the police station for questioning if that happens. Jennifer has another problem.”
“Besides her friendship with an art appraiser who’s a corporate vendor?”
“Yes. She got a parking ticket Friday night, after midnight, on Pacific Coast Highway. The location is within walking distance of the maestro’s estate.”
“No! That’s three strikes, isn’t it: the old friend who poses a conflict of interest, the earring found in Dave’s office, and a parking ticket that puts her near the scene on the night he was killed?”
“Yes, but it’s too soon to count her out. I have a search warrant and an order to seize the property in storage. I want an independent review of Dave’s artwork and collections to determine what’s missing. In the meantime, we’ll see what Skip has to say once we ask him why he lied for his colleague.”
“He did say they went somewhere for a nightcap with folks they ran into at the gala.”
“Yes. Here’s another part of the lifestyles of the rich and famous you never told me about—afterparties.”
“We were invited. To more than one, in fact. It never occurred to me that you’d want to go,” I said. “I’ve figured you’re a one-party-a-night fellow, especially when the parties involve Max and his Marvelous Marley World minions.”
“If I had my way, I’d be a no-party-a-night fellow, especially when it comes to Max and his minions. The party I’m talking about was hosted by the Mirador Hotel. There’s no way Jennifer was in Santa Monica with her chums based on the time that parking ticket was issued. When we followed up with them, not only Skip, but Adam claimed to have gone to that party.”
“Can they prove it?”
“Skip left a trail that puts him at the party until dawn—well past the time Dave was killed. Adam’s name was on an invitation list, and he checked in early. A little before the gala ended, in fact. He never picked up a bag of swag that was in a room opened to invited guests a little later. I can’t imagine a guy like Adam turning down free stuff, can you?”
“Not unless he left before the Gift Lounge opened. He missed a chance to cash in on some real loot. I donated our swag to a local charity, by the way. I’ll bet that’s what Jennifer did, too, didn’t she?”
“We had swag? I missed loot? Good loot?”
“Excellent. Max put us on the A-list,” I replied. “Why would a struggling handyman miss out on a chance to get free Bluetooth headphones and wireless speakers among other gifts?”
“I’ll have to ask him that. It’s a good thing he’s still being kept comfortable at the Lost Hills station, isn’t it?”
“I guess so. My head is spinning! So much is happening so fast, isn’t it? Remind me never to doubt your old bones.”
“Vintage, not old,” was all he could say before my phone rang. My cell phone, not my office phone.
“Hang on, Jack. I’ve got a call.”
“Answer it. You’re right about how much is happening. I’d better get to it. I’ll call you later.” I’m not sure if he even heard me say goodbye before he hung up. When my phone rang for the third time, I finally picked up the call.
“Georgie, it’s Pat.”
“Hi, Pat. What is it?”
“I’m at Dave’s place. I’ve found something on Dave’s computer I think you and Jack should see.”
“Jack’s going to be tied up for a while, but I’ll tell him to come and join us as soon as he can.”
“It’s not an emergency, and I have a realtor dropping by, so no rush. I just wanted to catch you as soon as possible so you could head north to Malibu before the rush hour madness settles in this afternoon.”
“That’s a good idea. I have good news for you from Bill Rollins. I’ll tell you all about my chat with him when I get there.”
Well, not all of it, I thought, biting my bottom lip. I wasn’t going to reveal the doubts both Bill and Meg had expressed about Pat’s trustworthiness considering what Jack had learned today about Jennifer. In fact, I wasn’t sure I should say much of anything to Pat about today’s revelations until Jack had put more of the puzzle together. It might even be a good idea to wait until he or the Lost Hills police made an arrest.
Carol, who was staring at me, owllike, with big round eyes, was a different story. She knew something was up, immediately.
“Jack says thanks for the picture of Jennifer in those earrings. He’s on his way to pick her up for questioning. Her sidekick, Skip, too. While he rounds them up, I’m heading out to Dave’s place to meet with Pat. I’ve left a message for Jack to meet me there.”
“Cool! It sounds like Rockford is about to blow this case wide open.”
“Let’s keep a low profile about this for a while longer. Our detective friend has a few hurdles to jump before he can close the book on the murder of the maestro.” I sighed as a wave of sadness hit about Dave’s death. Carol and I had already gone another round of planning for the memorial service.
The moment I got to Dave’s house, I felt things weren’t right. I should have listened to the echo of Mile’s booming voice bouncing around in my head. The gate was open, so I drove right in. Pat’s car was already parked in the circular drive. A realtor’s car was parked behind hers. I rang the doorbell, but no one answered. I knocked and that didn’t get a response, either. Growing more uncomfortable by the minute, I deci
ded to leave.
Then, I heard Pat’s voice coming from the patio around back. She was either speaking to someone on her phone or to that realtor. A huge wave of relief hit me. If she was outside and engaged in a conversation, maybe she didn’t hear me knock or ring the doorbell.
As I walked around the side of the house, Pat’s voice grew louder, although I couldn’t make out what she and the person with her were discussing. It must have been important since there was an urgency about it. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, so as I came around the corner I called out.
“Hey, Pat! It’s Georgie, I…” What I saw, stopped me in my tracks. “Oh no! What are you doing?” Pat was sort of straddling the white railing that ran around the edge of the veranda. It looked nautical, like that on the ship Jack and I took on our all-too-eventful honeymoon cruise. One leg dangled half over the edge of the rail. Her other leg was still on a chair pushed against it. The pose screamed suicide. I screamed for her to stop!
“Don’t do it! Whatever’s going on, we’ll deal with it.” I took a few steps onto the veranda, not wanting to startle Pat by moving toward her too quickly.
“What are you doing here?” A woman asked as she stood, hidden in the shadow of the patio cover. She pointed a gun at Pat. The body of another woman lay in a heap at her feet. I recognized the woman’s voice even before I could see her face when she stepped forward and pointed the gun at me.
“That was going to be my question to you, Connie.” I spoke in a soft, calm tone trying not to antagonize the obviously distressed woman. Her hand shook as she held that gun.
“You picked the wrong time to butt in, you, meddlesome fool!” The chair on which Pat still had one foot squeaked a little. Connie turned the gun back on her.
“Don’t you dare get down. This is all your fault. If you had an ounce of decency, you would have put an end to Dave’s lechery long ago.”
“How did you expect her to do that?” I asked softly. The gun moved again, back toward me, and then toward Pat, before finally settling on a point somewhere in between that meant neither of us was staring down the barrel of a gun.
“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at the gun in her hand. “Someone had to stop him from hurting more women. My niece had no idea what heartache she faced. I tried to tell her not to get mixed up with him.”
“That must have worked since she left Friday night, right?” The gun dropped a little lower. Connie nodded and began to weep.
“I didn’t know that. When Dave came swaggering by on the trail he was wearing that horrid velvet jacket. I heard someone coming and figured it was Emily on her way to meet him. That’s when I picked up a stick and hit him.” The gun she held moved up and down as if she had that stick in her hand. “I didn’t mean to hit him as hard as I did. He fell. I threw that stick away and ran.” As she said that, she tossed the gun into the swimming pool and sank to the ground. The injured woman moved.
“It’s okay, Connie. I believe you,” I said as I dialed 911 calling for an ambulance.
“Me, too,” Pat said suddenly standing at my side.
23 Coda
“Connie’s made a full confession. She's facing a second-degree murder charge. Her lawyer might get that reduced to manslaughter if they believe her claim that she didn’t intend to kill the maestro.”
“What a tragedy,” Pat added. “I’m not sure what I would have done if Roger Winters had turned out to be part of Jennifer Wainwright’s scheme. I suppose we both looked guilty, didn’t we?” Jack didn’t respond, so I did.
“Jack has told me more than once, ‘until you have a solid lead on a suspect, everyone looks guilty.’ When we met, I was suspect number one until he determined that my alibi was fool-proof. Here’s to us, and the relief that goes with being ex-suspects!” I raised my glass to Pat who gave it a little clink.
“Neither of you were ever officially suspects, although you both came close. I’m glad you’re both in such good spirits after the close call you had.” Jack raised his glass. “Here’s to me, too, for not having a heart attack when Hank called to tell me he was on his way to Dave Rollins’ house where an incident had taken place that required an ambulance.” We clinked his glass.
“At least I didn’t keep you in suspense for long. I texted you that Pat and I were okay as soon as I could clear my head enough to do it.”
“Well I’ve had enough suspense to last a lifetime,” Pat added. “It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, Georgie, or we wouldn’t be having dinner on your terrace. There’s no way I could have jumped, so Connie probably would have shot me.”
“Shooting you wouldn’t have convinced anyone that you’d committed suicide. Even with the neatly typed note she left in Dave’s house proclaiming your sorrow and guilt for murdering the maestro,” I said. “Connie should have scuttled her plan the minute the realtor saw her with a gun. By the time I arrived, she didn’t need much coaxing to let it go.”
“She’s lucky not to be facing two murder charges after hitting that realtor as hard as she did,” Jack asserted. “I hate it when hapless bystanders wander into the middle of a crazy scheme as it’s unraveling. The realtor’s going to be okay, but poor Charlie won’t get another chance.”
“Requiescat in pace,” I said.
“I don’t know if I qualify as a hapless bystander, but I’m grateful I didn’t get pulled into a violent confrontation with Adam working as Jennifer’s inside man. He’s a bigger disappointment to me than Connie. Dave hurt her deeply, but he did a lot for that stupid, ungrateful jerk. Did Adam tell you Dave paid for his singing lessons and community college tuition? That’s in addition to the money he gave him for his work as a handyman.”
“For some people, it’s never enough. Adam’s doing his best to get charges reduced or dropped in exchange for testifying against Jennifer. He’s savvier than he seems. One of Adam's first jobs was as an assistant to a bail bondsman. That's where he picked up his sneaky, eavesdropping skills and learned a few things about how to act when lawyers ask you questions. Even when he was younger, he was big enough to make a go of it as a skip chaser except that he got jumped. When it’s two on one, it doesn’t matter so much that you’re the biggest guy in the room. That painful incident changed his mind, and he took a job in maintenance at Marvelous Marley World.”
“His sneaking around got him into more hot water than he could handle when he caught Jennifer red-handed and cut himself in for a piece of the action.”
“True, but the real trouble started when Dave called the vendor he’d always used and made arrangements for an unscheduled audit of his holdings. Jennifer’s appraiser pal called her right away. Adam says she was panicky and kept telling him ‘they’ needed to do something quick or he’d be in as much trouble as she was. Like the dumb crooks that they were, she and Adam dug a deeper hole and jumped in it. Jennifer planned to get into Dave’s house, trash the place, and make it look as if a thief had been searching for something specific like those missing letters written to Dave by a would-be Mozart.”
“A thief with an ax to grind and an interest in Mozart,” I said. “It sure eventually looked as though that letter-writing culprit was responsible for the break-in, vandalism, and even murder, especially when all the wolfman, big ‘M’ stuff started up again.”
“I helped them pull that off, didn’t I, by sending you on the Wolf Gang wild goose chase?”
“That’s what they hoped would happen. Dave was supposed to come back from his moonlit stroll to the vandalism, discover the missing letters, and report it to the police,” Jack said.
“When we met with Skip and Jennifer at their office, she told us you were the ‘keeper of the Mozart letters.’ In a way, we ended up prodding you to discover those letters were missing that Jennifer hoped would establish the presence in the house of someone interested in stealing them,” I added.
“Dave’s murder changed their plan. In all the disorder and confusion, Jennifer ordered the art and collectibles moved into storage.”
“Dave sure contributed to the confusion by not confiding in you about the missing medallions or the art pieces that had disappeared,” I added.
“He outright lied to me when he said he’d donated the missing medallions to USC. I didn’t even know about the art pieces Jennifer had stolen. Roger says Dave added them to the inventory when he purchased them, but no one ever saw them. It’s hard to tell the police there’s been a theft when the owner has covered it up.” Pat shrugged.
“If Jennifer had just kept her cool, it sounds as if she could have gotten away with it. Why attack us on Sunday?”
“Max called Jennifer and ordered her to cooperate with us fully. He claimed you and Dave had been close friends for years and he expected you to be able to get to the bottom of things in no time flat. She must have figured you were onto something when you decided to return so soon for another look around. Your talent for snooping is becoming well-known.”
“Yeah, right. Connie had a different term for it—meddlesome fool’s more her take on my talent. Given the way Max had been singing your praises as a lawman, I bet that rock throwing was more about stopping you than me. Either way, she succeeded in slowing us down long enough to get Dave’s art and collectibles out of the house and into storage.”
“Adam claims he believed Jennifer was going to cover up their thievery by putting the stolen items in with those moved into storage,” Jack said.
“If she still had his property, it wasn’t about the money, was it?” Pat asked. “It’s as if she wanted to steal pieces of Dave’s life he wasn’t willing or able to give her.”
“It could be. Skip hasn’t said much, apart from claiming he originally backed up Jennifer’s alibi because he didn’t know she’d left the party. He admitted that Jennifer was upset when she found out Dave intended to leave that cottage to you, Pat. She was furious, too, when he made all sorts of provisions in his will for a granddaughter he didn’t even know.”
“Has Hank recovered the stolen goods from the storage facility?”
Murder of the Maestro Page 19