Stay Sharpe Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

“Are you going to represent her yourself in this matter?”

  Lyons blinked, obviously uncomfortable with the question. “I’ll let you know after the hearing tomorrow. A lot will depend on Mrs. Granger’s desires.”

  Like her desire to cheat on her husband with Larry Linndorf? Luckily, Deena hadn’t said it out loud.

  She jotted a note, then asked, “Can I see her?”

  Lyons’s eyebrows shot up as if to say, You’re kidding, right? He took a step toward the exit. “You mean for a statement? We haven’t had time to discuss it yet.”

  “But you wouldn’t object, would you?” Deena knew she was walking a fine line. Her husband was an upstanding member of the community. She was a former teacher who had seen a number of the Lyons clan pass through her classes. But as a member of the press, she and the attorney were natural enemies.

  Lyons was probably thinking the same thing as he measured the words of his response. “It is never in the best interest of a client to speak openly to the media without representation of an attorney, as I’m sure you know. Tomorrow, I will speak to my client about making a statement. She is anxious to clear up this matter, and inasmuch as the media can help in that regard, I’m sure she would appreciate cooperating in whatever manner is in her best interest.”

  Deena took that to mean “no.”

  As Lyons headed out the door into the evening dusk, she headed up to the window to request a visit with Allison Granger.

  * * *

  “YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES until visiting hours are over,” the guard announced as Deena sat across from Allison and watched her through the plexiglass window. They each held a receiver in their hand and nodded their acknowledgement of the time restraint before the guard stepped away.

  “I’m glad you came,” Allison said.

  Deena held up her hand. “Before you say anything else, is our discussion on the record for the newspaper?”

  She shook her head. “No. My attorney told me not to speak to the press.”

  Deena wondered if she was wasting her time being there. “Then why did you agree to see me?”

  “I have a question about the note you showed me this morning.”

  Deena couldn’t believe their conversation had occurred that same morning. A lot had happened that day. Then suddenly Deena felt uncomfortable, realizing she could be holding a key piece of evidence in Drew’s murder and had already shown it to the primary suspect. She tried not to glance down at her handbag. “What about it?”

  Allison’s expression took on a darker tone. “Why didn’t you turn it over to Detective Guttman?”

  It was a fair question. Should she give Allison the truth and say she forgot about it after snitching on her cop/boyfriend? She decided to use a tactic she’d learned from Guttman and asked a question instead. “Why? Why would it matter?” She fully expected for Allison to respond that it proved her husband had committed suicide.

  But Allison tossed her another surprise. “Because I don’t think it’s a suicide note.”

  Deena took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. Where was Allison going with this? She pulled the letter from her bag. It wasn’t like the other woman could reach through the plastic partition and take it from her. “What do you mean?”

  “For one,” Allison said, “I don’t think it was addressed to me. If you look at it, Drew wrote, ‘My Dearest Queen.’ He never called me his queen. He always referred to me as his princess. And for another, I think he was talking about breaking up with whoever this other woman was.”

  There was disdain in her voice as she spoke about Drew’s possible affair. Deena decided not to point out the obvious “pot calling the kettle black” situation. “Can you prove that he only called you ‘princess’?”

  “Sure. I have birthday cards and anniversary cards he wrote me over the years.” She leaned in further. “But that’s not my question. Why didn’t you give the note to Detective Guttman? When he questioned me, I told him about it and that you had it, and he acted like I was crazy or lying or something. I need that note as part of my defense.”

  “I’ll give it to him first thing in the morning. I promise.” Deena checked her watch. “For the record, did you kill your husband?”

  “No!”

  “Then who do you think did?”

  “Maybe the woman he was seeing behind my back.”

  “Any ideas who it could be?”

  Allison shook her head. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out all afternoon. When he wasn’t home, he was at the winery. I was always suspicious about the bookkeeper there. Her name is Layla Baxter. Drew said he wasn’t interested, but he could have been lying to me.”

  “Like you lied about going to book club every time you were going to meet Larry?” This time Deena had spoken her thoughts out loud.

  “Okay. So, I lied to cover up my affair. Everyone does that.”

  “But you lied to the police, too.”

  “Technically, I didn’t. Larry was at the house when I got there that night. Although he said he interviewed me about where I was and what I was doing, we actually never talked about it. I didn’t know until today when Detective Guttman hauled me in that the suicide was staged. Larry broke up with me at the funeral and we haven’t spoken since. For all I know, Larry may have killed Drew.” Her eyes glistened with tears.

  “It doesn’t make sense that he would kill your husband and then dump you.”

  “I know. It’s just that he was so angry with me.”

  “Angry about what?”

  “Because I lied to him, too.”

  “About going to book club?”

  The officer motioned that they only had three more minutes to talk.

  Clearly Allison was getting frustrated with Deena. “Will you forget about the book club? Do I look like someone who reads? Even Drew probably knew that was a lie just so I could get out of the house.”

  Deena wasn’t sure how to respond. Did readers really look any different from non-readers? She let it go. “So, what was the lie you told Larry?”

  Allison let out a deep breath before answering. “I told both Larry and Drew that I was pregnant. I told them both that it was their baby.”

  At last, Allison had come clean about the pregnancy rumor. “Why did you do that?”

  “I wanted to see which one would step up to the plate. Obviously, it wasn’t Larry. He told me he was planning to break up with me that same night that he got the call about a gunshot at my house.” She glanced up at the guard who gave her the “wrap it up” signal. She spoke faster now. “Ironically, Drew seemed okay about it, after he had a day to let it sink in. I think he was shocked since we hadn’t been that...close lately. He promised to be a better husband and said he was happy. That was a few days before he died. I thought he may have changed his mind and killed himself. I felt so guilty. That’s why I was happy when you said he might have been murdered.”

  “Time’s up, ladies,” the guard announced. “Visiting hours are over.”

  Just like the hospital, Deena thought.

  Before she hung up the receiver, Allison made one final plea. “I need your help. Check out Layla Baxter. Talk to Detective—”

  The guard pulled the receiver from Allison’s hand and led her away.

  Deena sat in stunned silence. Not only was she now unsure of Allison’s guilt, she had now been asked to help defend her. She wasn’t sure who she should call first—Dan or Detective Guttman.

  She called Guttman.

  That was a mistake.

  Chapter 29

  She could not stop the one big tear from slipping down her face and splashing onto the keyboard as she wrote her story for the next day’s edition. Dan had really let her have it for calling Guttman before him. She told him about everything she had done that day and which of the pieces of information were on the record and which were off.

  He seemed moderately pleased with her progress and with the initiative she had taken in dealing with Linndorf, but when she told him she had p
romised to give Drew’s note to Guttman, he went bonkers. That’s when he launched into a ten-minute diatribe on the objectivity of the press. She was thinking too much like a defense investigator and not enough like a reporter. Her job wasn’t to help Guttman or Allison or anyone. She was supposed to be digging out the facts and relaying them to the citizens of Maycroft via the newspaper.

  Deena knew he was right. It was everything she learned in college and what she had taught her journalism students. After all, everyone in the case had their own agenda, even law enforcement. That’s why sometimes they made a rush to judgment and accused the wrong suspect. Dan made it clear that if she was going to end up with a contract to work for the Tribune, she had to pick whose side she was going to be on: the public’s, the police’s, or the accused’s. He even implied he might have to put another reporter on the case.

  She typed up her story, including the few new facts that she had gotten on the record. It wasn’t much. Basically, all she could write was what she’d gotten from Eric Lyons. Everything about Linndorf was confidential for now. She imagined what the story would be if she could include everything she knew about the case. It would shed a lot of light on the investigation and especially the misconduct by the Maycroft Police Department.

  Gary had left her alone when she first got home. After she proofed and emailed her story to Dan, she headed off to join him in the bedroom.

  Gary was engrossed in a Harlan Coben mystery when she got in bed. He dog-eared the page and turned to look at Deena. “Why the red eyes? Are you tired or are your allergies kicking in?”

  She tried to remain calm. “I talked to Dan. He’s angry about the way I’m conducting the investigation.”

  “Angry? But you’ve made significant progress. If it weren’t for you, the case would still be considered a suicide and a murderer would be on the loose with no one looking for him...or her.”

  “He said I care too much.”

  Gary’s jaw dropped, but Deena continued before he came unglued. “He says I am too much on the side of the police and of Allison. And he’s right. When I worked with Ian, it was easy to keep my eye on the ball. We would have a client we believed was innocent—or not getting a fair shake—and my job was to help find the truth in order to get justice.”

  Gary propped himself up on his pillow. “I don’t see how that is any different than what you are doing now.”

  “But it is,” she said. “I’m still trying to ‘help’ everyone, instead of being an objective outsider. Does that make sense?”

  Gary shook his head. “Not really. Give me an example of something you would have done differently if you’d been playing by Dan’s rules.”

  Deena waved her hand. “They’re not just Dan’s rules. But anyway, I would have published the note I’d gotten from Lonnie and let the chips fall where they may. At the very least, I would have used it as a bargaining chip to get Guttman to go on the record about Linndorf.”

  Gary digested her comment. He was beginning to see her point. “So, it’s not the ‘end’ that would be different, it’s the ‘means.’ Is that right?”

  “Exactly,” she said, offering up a faint smile. “I couldn’t have stated it better myself. Which means that while I was running around playing junior detective, I wasn’t doing my duty to the public. It’s not that what I did was wrong, I just wasn’t keeping the readers informed. As journalists, it is up to us to seek the truth and stay impartial.”

  Gary leaned over and put his book on the night table, then turned back to Deena. “Then that begs the question: Do you want to be an investigator or a reporter?”

  “I was afraid you were going to ask me that.” She reached up and turned off the bedside lamp. “I’ll let you know when this case is over.”

  Chapter 30

  Guttman was ready to deal. He knew good and well they could not make much of a case for murder against Allison Granger; and in fact, he confided to Deena that he wasn’t even sure Allison was guilty. So when Deena came to the station the next morning offering to give him a new lead in exchange for information for her story, he jumped at the opportunity.

  “You better have something good if you want me to go on the record about Linndorf and his affair with our chief suspect. That tidbit of news along with the staged suicide will send the townsfolk of Maycroft reeling.” He gulped down the last of his coffee and folded the newspaper.

  Deena sat next to him at the same coffee shop where she had first chatted with Nina Davenport the previous week. It seemed as though a lot had happened, although she was no closer to finding Drew’s killer. At least she had Guttman on her side now. She was determined to solve the case and impress Dan Carson in the process.

  “I spoke to Allison Granger last night at the jail.” She sprinkled a third or fourth packet of artificial sweetener into her cup and stirred mindlessly.

  “You what? I can’t believe her attorney allowed it. Once she cried ‘lawyer,’ he wouldn’t let her say another word to us.”

  Deena smiled, knowing she’d gotten one up on the detective. “She asked for my help.”

  “Does this have anything to do with that alleged suicide note she asked me about?”

  “Yes and no.”

  Guttman scowled. “I’m in no mood for your little games.”

  “It’s not a game. You see, we did talk about the note, but it turned out not to be a suicide note. Drew wrote it to break up with someone.” Deena pulled it from her handbag. “Here.”

  After a quick read, he looked up. “Did Andrew Granger write this?”

  “According to Allison, he did. However, she’s not the person he wrote it to. She says he always referred to her as his ‘princess.’ If we can find out who this queen is, we may have another suspect with a motive.”

  Guttman turned the note over and looked at the back. “Where did you get this? From Allison?”

  “No. Lonnie Fisher, Andrew’s number two man at the vineyard, said he found it in Andrew’s desk.”

  “So, you think the murder could have been committed by a jealous lover?”

  “It’s possible.” Deena took a sip of coffee and spit it back into the cup. It was much too sweet. She pushed the cup away and wrung her hands nervously. “What do you think?”

  “I guess it’s as good a place to start as any. Do you have a nominee for Miss Killer Girlfriend?”

  “Just one, actually. Allison said she was always suspicious of her husband’s bookkeeper.”

  Guttman’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought your husband was his bookkeeper. Are you saying Andrew Granger was gay?”

  “No! Gary was his financial consultant. Big difference. A woman named Layla Baxter is the bookkeeper at Granger’s Grapes. Apparently, she’s a hot number.”

  “Well what are we waiting for? Let’s go interview this hottie.” He threw some bills on the table and stood up.

  Deena pulled him back down to his seat. “Hold on, detective. It’s a long way out there. Let’s call and make sure she’s there first.”

  “Hmm,” Guttman said as he smoothed his hand across the back of his head. “We don’t want to tip her off. I think a surprise visit would be best.”

  “I have an idea,” Deena said. “I can call the receptionist and make sure Layla is there. Vera and I are like this.” She held up her hand and crossed her fingers.

  “Okay, but don’t give her any details. We don’t want this Baxter woman to sneak off or anything.”

  Deena nodded and dialed her cell phone. She recognized Vera’s voice.

  “Granger’s Grapes. Could you please hold?”

  Before Deena could respond, she was listening to some Frank Sinatra cover artist crooning “Fly Me to the Moon.” She started to join in on the second chorus when Vera came back on the line.

  “Thank you for holding. May I help you?”

  “Vera, it’s Deena Sharpe.”

  “Oh, hello, Mrs. Sharpe. I’m sorry for the wait. Things are nuts around here today, as you probably know.”

 
; “Why? What’s going on?”

  “There are several accountants here trying to audit the books and asking a whole bunch of questions I can’t answer. Distributors are calling with questions...I’m drowning here.”

  “Surely Layla can handle them, right?” Deena winked at Guttman.

  “Haven’t you heard? She quit a few days ago. Luckily your husband agreed to drive out here to help. Is that why you called?”

  “Um, yes. Sure.” Deena turned away from Guttman.

  “I’ll put you through to him,” Vera said.

  When Gary got on the line, Deena asked him what was going on.

  “Lyons sent over a few CPAs. It has to do with probating the will. Lonnie’s not here and I’m really swamped. Do you need something important?”

  “Just one thing. Do you know what happened to Layla Baxter?”

  “According to Vera, she took a job at Never Too Fit.”

  “The new gym? Is she taking care of their books or what?”

  “That’s all I know, hon. I really need to go. See you at supper.”

  After Gary hung up, Deena looked back at Guttman. “Looks like our new suspect wasn’t too fond of grapes after all.”

  * * *

  THAT ODOR AGAIN. JUST the smell of the gym caused Deena’s calf muscles to tighten. She was like Pavlov’s dog but with Bengay. The place was hopping. How did so many people have time to hang out at the gym in the middle of a workday?

  Deena led Guttman to the check-in desk. The muscleman behind the counter wore a designer gray t-shirt with shredded holes across the chest. It read “Ripped.”

  Deena smiled. “Nice shirt. Ironic.”

  “Huh?” He stuck out his jaw like a caveman’s.

  “You know. Ripped. Like your shirt and your muscles. Right?”

  He stared at her with his Cro-Magnon forehead slightly wrinkled. “I didn’t iron it, if that’s what you mean. It’s a t-shirt.”

  Deena glanced at Guttman. Perhaps he could translate.

  He tried to sound casual, which was not easy for the stressed-out detective. “We’re looking for Layla Baxter. Know where we can find her?”