JP Beaumont 11 - Failure To Appear (v5.0)

by J. A. Jance

  “You tell me. To throw me offtrack maybe? What I can’t figure out for the life of me is why a man in your position would get involved with that little two-bit piece of baggage in the first place. Seems to me as though someone with Bentleys and Porsches out the kazoo wouldn’t bother with someone like her.”

  So that was it. He thought I was messing around with Tanya Dunseth. “I already told you. Tanya’s my daughter’s friend.”

  Fraymore smiled a mirthless, chilly smile. “Tell your daughter from me that she should choose her friends a little more wisely next time. And so should you. I don’t know who Tanya Dunseth is, but I can sure as hell tell you who she isn’t. I’ve been checking into the bio information she gave the Festival. None of it adds up.”

  My mind zipped back to the lunch at Geppetto’s with Jeremy and Kelly talking about Tanya Dunseth’s blighted childhood. “You’re saying none of it checks out? Her parents didn’t die in a house fire when she was a little kid?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. The parents Tanya Dunseth listed on her job application aren’t just deceased. They never existed in the first place. And, according to the hospital in Goldendale, neither does she. Not only that, I have physical evidence linking her to both victims.”

  “What kind of evidence?”

  “Now, now, that would be telling, wouldn’t it. So take this as a warning, Detective Beaumont. If you’re somehow in on all this, I’m going to find out and nail your ass to the ground. And if you’re not, then stay the hell out of it!”

  I could feel the circle of proof tightening around Tanya Dunseth’s neck. I couldn’t tell for sure if Fraymore actually believed I was in on it, or if he was using me to carry a message to Tanya, hoping to provoke her into doing something stupid.

  “Are you going to arrest her?” I asked.

  “You just don’t understand, do you, fella? You just don’t comprende the words MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. Let me put it another way. Stay the hell out! I may not arrest Tanya Dunseth today or tomorrow or even next week—but I will eventually. In the meantime, I’ll be watching her very closely. I wouldn’t want Little Miss Porno Flick to slip away.

  “I’m not booking her today, and not because I think she’s innocent, either. I’m what you might call a fiscally responsible cop. I don’t want the city of Ashland to have to pay room and board on her until it’s time—until I’ve built an airtight case. When I do get around to arresting her—and you can count on it that I will—then you can bet I’ll make it stick. Watch yourself, Beaumont, or some of her crap will land on you.”

  “Wait just a minute. What if Daphne Lewis and Martin Shore were in on something together? What if they were trying to blackmail or discredit Tanya Dunseth?” I asked. “Why else would that video show up here after all this time?”

  “So what if they were?” Fraymore agreed. “Blackmail’s no reason to rub people out. That’s not the way it works. Maybe you should take Tanya Dunseth aside and explain the facts of life. That’s why we have courts of law in this country, so people don’t have to go around killing other people just because they’ve got their noses out of joint.”

  “Is there a connection between Shore and Daphne?”

  Fraymore shrugged. “You tell me. I’m looking. I haven’t found one yet, but I will. I’m that kind of guy.”

  The hospital door opened, and Ralph Ames emerged. He’s from sunny Arizona. Unlike the rest of us, he keeps a pair of sunglasses in his pocket at all times. He slapped them on his face before taking two steps into the glaring sunlight.

  “I understand that guy’s your attorney,” Fraymore growled, watching a tanned and fit Ralph Ames stride confidently toward us across an expanse of grassy lawn. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He came for the wedding.”

  “Not because you had some idea you might need him?”

  “No, because he’s a friend of the family,” I replied.

  Nodding sagely, Fraymore stood up. “Sure he is, and I’m a goddamn monkey’s uncle. Do me a favor. Tell this ‘friend of the family’ that he should stick around for a day or two. If I get lucky, he may wind up doing some legal work after all.”

  Fraymore walked away then, leaving me alone. The emotional turmoil of the past few days had taken its toll, but I wasn’t in such a fog that I didn’t recognize a barefaced threat when I heard it. The oversized detective crammed his bulk into the Lumina and slammed the door, speeding away in a spray of gravel.

  As I watched him go, a very real sense of apprehension settled over me. I didn’t worry that he’d find any evidence linking me to Tanya Dunseth. There wasn’t any. Not yet. But, given sufficient imagination and vindictiveness, damning evidence could easily be manufactured. From the way he acted, the things he said, I knew for sure that Gordon Fraymore was a vindictive man—vindictive and probably jealous as well.

  He was a moderately successful detective on a tiny police force. In terms of official rank, we were on much the same level. But there are hazards connected with being a big fish in a very small pool.

  Not only that, the guy drove a damn Chevy. It’s both laughable and sad, but the American male has not yet escaped the mental trap of believing you are what you drive. A Lumina doesn’t stack up very well against a Porsche 928. I had given away a Bentley for the hell of it as well as for a sizable tax deduction, while Gordon Fraymore would most likely never even touch one.

  With someone like him, an old-fashioned, piss-in-your-soup-type threat can be ignored only at your own peril.

  Sure as hell, Tanya Dunseth wasn’t the only one in what the Laredo Kid would have called deep caca. So was J.P. Beaumont.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Ames joined me on the concrete bench, nodding in greeting. “What was that about?” he asked. Your friend Fraymore looked distinctly unhappy when he rumbled out of here.”

  “He’s no friend of mine, and don’t let appearances fool you. He’s happy as can be. He just threatened to throw me in jail.”

  “Well,” Ames returned mildly, “in that case, it’s a good thing I’m here.”

  I scowled. “Funny, those were his very words. You two must be on the same wavelength.”

  Ralph grinned. “How come he wants you behind bars?”

  “For interfering in his investigation.”

  “Oh,” Ralph said. “Too bad, but that being the case, I could just as well go tell Alex it’s no deal.” He got up and started away. I couldn’t figure out what was going on.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “What’s no deal? What are you talking about?”

  Ralph stopped in midstride and turned back. “I’ve decided to look into Tanya Dunseth’s situation. Alex thought maybe you wouldn’t mind riding along out to the farm to make introductions. But it’s not necessary, certainly not with Fraymore on your tail. It isn’t worth it.”

  “Hold on. Are you saying you intend to drop everything and hang around here to personally handle whatever criminal charges Fraymore may lodge against Tanya Dunseth?”

  Ames nodded. “If there are criminal charges, yes.”

  “You’d do that for someone who A: You don’t know and B: Is probably guilty as sin?”

  “That’s pretty much the size of it,” he replied cheerfully.

  I decided the man had gone off his rocker. “How can you, when you don’t even know what the charges are?”

  “No problem,” Ralph smiled. “Fraymore will tell me eventually. He has to, you know.”

  Usually, I appreciate Ralph Ames’ droll sense of humor. Sometimes I even enjoy it. This was not one of those times.

  “But, Ralph…”

  “Don’t ‘But, Ralph’ me,” he interrupted. “I’m a member-in-good-standing of the Oregon State Bar. After years of practicing glorified accounting, of doing nothing but reading and analyzing corporate balance sheets and annual reports, I’m ready for a change of pace. It’ll be fun to try my hand at criminal law. I was damn good at it once upon a time, and I believe I still am. Actually, I’m
looking forward to it.”

  Dumbstruck at the whole cockamamie idea, I tried to dissuade him. “Listen, Fraymore as good as told me it’s only a matter of time before he places Tanya under arrest. He claims he has physical evidence linking her to both murders. He told me all that minutes ago.”

  Ralph remained adamant. “So what? She’s still entitled to the best possible defense. That’s exactly what I intend to provide.”

  I tried hitting him in the pocketbook. “Come on now, Ralph,” I reasoned. “I happen to know your services don’t come cheap. I may be able to pay, but Tanya Dunseth is a twenty-something single mother who can’t even afford her own apartment. Defending her is going to require a hell of a lot of time, effort, energy, and money. How is she going to pay you?”

  “She isn’t,” Ralph replied. “Nobody’s asking her to. I wouldn’t take money from her even if she had it. I haven’t done pro bono work for a long time—years, in fact. I meant to all along, but I’m always so busy that I never quite get around to it. I’ve made up my mind. This time I am.”

  The voice of sweet reason wasn’t going to convince him otherwise. Ames may have decided, but I suspected Alex Downey of behind-the-scenes manipulation. “How’d she do it?” I demanded.

  Ames frowned in assumed innocence. “How did who do what?”

  “How did Alex flimflam you into this?”

  Caught in a classic case of gotcha, Ralph Ames was sheepish but not the least remorseful. “Never mind,” he said. “Since you’re not going to be involved, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does, too. Let me guess. Alex has spent the entire afternoon playing amateur detective. With her vast background of policework experience, she’s convinced Tanya Dunseth is an innocent victim who’s being railroaded by the justice system. Somehow or other, she’s suckered you into believing it, too. Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger, Ralph. For a while, back when Martin Shore was the only victim, Alex almost had me believing it, too. Now I’ve changed my mind. Fraymore brought me to my senses.”

  “You maybe, not me,” Ralph asserted with a dangerously quiet but determined edge to his voice. His tone more than anything should have alerted me, but I kept after him.

  “How’d she do it, Ralph? Hold a gun to your head? What kind of weapon does it take to convince an otherwise intelligent, usually reasonable man to run around tilting at windmills?”

  Ames came back and sank down heavily onto the bench beside me. “The woman’s a born salesman,” he answered forlornly. “Alexis Downey doesn’t have a qualm in the world about going straight for the jugular. She used the only argument that was guaranteed to work.”

  In a pathetic way, he was still trying to joke around about it, but something about his dejected appearance betrayed the fact that he was genuinely disturbed. What was going on?

  “Such as?” I pressed. “Tell me. I want to know.”

  Ralph shook his head. “Forget it. You’re not involved. Can’t be—not with Fraymore breathing down your neck. It was wrong of me to even bring it up.”

  And that’s when I knew exactly how Alex had done it—as soon as Ralph refused to tell me. The look on his face gave him away.

  “Anne Corley?” I asked. “Is that it?” Several years later, my heart still stumbles at the sound of her name. “Alex hit you with Anne?”

  Ralph nodded. “She said, ‘You would have defended Anne Corley if they’d arrested her, wouldn’t you?’ And it’s true. I would have. In a minute. You and I both know Anne was guilty. On the face of it, Tanya Dunseth’s case is almost the same thing. I’d be a complete hypocrite if I didn’t do everything in my power to help. I owe Anne Corley that much.”

  Ralph didn’t add the words “We both do” to the end of his sentence. It wasn’t necessary. I supplied them myself. With unerring instinct, Alex had hit on the one sensitive issue guaranteed to grab both Ralph Ames and J.P. Beaumont by the short hairs and haul them into line. Neither one of us had been able to save Anne Corley. I wondered if Ralph really believed he could salvage Tanya Dunseth.

  That’s when I realized Ralph didn’t actually believe Tanya Dunseth was innocent, either. “What do you go for, temporary insanity?”

  Ralph frowned. “That might work for Martin Shore because of the movie connection. I’m not so sure about Daphne Lewis. That’s one reason I need to talk to Tanya.”

  We sat without speaking for several long minutes. The door to the hospital lobby opened, and a family of visitors emerged. There was an elderly woman—a grandmother, I suppose—a middle-aged couple, and two adolescent children. They came out wearing the saddened faces and speaking the subdued talk of people who have not received good news. Seeing them reminded me of why I was there.

  “What’s going on inside?” I asked. “Any word?”

  The change of subject helped a little, and Ralph smiled slightly when he answered. “I thought we were going to see some real fireworks.”

  “Fireworks? Why? What happened?”

  “Alex and Karen almost got into it.”

  “How come?”

  “The doctor came out and said that one person could go into the recovery room and sit with Kelly, to be there with her when she started coming out of the anesthetic. Karen got up to go, but Alex suggested maybe Jeremy should. And he did.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “You mean Karen actually backed down?”

  “That’s right,” Ralph answered.

  I was thankful not to have been caught in the cross fire of that particular skirmish. Sitting on the bench and talking with Gordon Fraymore was grueling enough and not anywhere near my idea of a good time, but being sucked into the brewing power play between Alexis Downey and Karen Beaumont Livingston would have been far worse. For me, anyway.

  “Has anyone actually talked to the doctor?”

  “He ventured into the waiting room far enough to deliver a prepared-speech-type update to the entire assembly. He seemed aware of the fact that Kelly’s visitors come from two entirely separate camps. He talked about a depressed skull fracture and said things were ‘hopeful.’ That’s a direct quote.”

  “‘Hopeful’ doesn’t sound all that good to me,” I said gloomily.

  “Don’t complain,” Ralph responded. “It’s a whole lot better than ‘hopeless.’”

  Point taken and noted. “Hopeless” was a hell of a lot worse, as anyone but a complete jackass would realize.

  “Thanks for reminding me,” I said. And meant it.

  We stayed on the bench a while longer. I didn’t say what I was thinking, but Ralph had left me enough room to make up my own mind. Finally, I stood up and started toward the car. Ralph got up to follow. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I thought you wanted to drive out to Live Oak Farm and see your client,” I told him. “If she’s home, you’ll be better off seeing her there before Gordon Fraymore locks her up in jail.”

  We reached the Porsche together, but on opposite sides of the vehicle. Ralph caught my eye across the sunroof.

  “Thanks for not hassling me about all this,” he said. “It doesn’t make much sense, but this is something I have to do.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I understand.”

  And I did. Of course the idea of dropping everything to defend Tanya Dunseth was crazy as hell, but Anne Corley still haunted Ralph Ames almost as much as she did me, so I, of all people, was in no position to argue. My mother always warned me about stones and glass houses.

  With that we both climbed into the car and slammed our respective doors. Only when we were well down Siskiyou Boulevard did we speak again. “When Fraymore finds out what we’re up to, he’s going to shit a brick. I probably will end up in jail.”

  Ralph grinned. “Don’t worry,” he said, laying on his best lawyerly charm. “If that happens, I’ll make you the same deal I’m giving Tanya. Strictly pro bono. I won’t charge a dime to bail you out.”

  “Gee, thanks, Ralph,” I told him. “I knew I could count on you.” And then we both laughe
d.

  The tension in the car dissipated a little, but not very much, and not for very long. By the time we reached Live Oak Farm, it was back, as strong or stronger than before.

  In the first cooling of evening, we stopped beside the uncompleted front steps leading up to the farmhouse. A pair of worn sawhorses stood nearby. An array of power tools lay scattered on the porch. Someone had spent the afternoon actively working on the reconstruction project, although now it was apparently break time. Several new eight-by-twelve support posts were visible underneath the flooring, but the jack still stood in place; the steps remained an unusable skeleton.

  Although I could detect no distinct cooking aromas, dining-room-type noises emanated from the open windows as soon as I turned off the car engine. Ralph and I piled out of the Porsche and walked up to the edge of the front porch. Sunshine heaved herself to her feet and walked over to examine us through cloudy, cataract-obscured eyes. From the looks and sound of her, I figured Sunshine wasn’t long for this world. The old dog managed only one croaking, halfhearted bark before Marjorie Connors stepped outside.

  “Hello, Mr. Beaumont,” Marjorie Connors said quite civilly for her. “How’s Kelly?”

  The woman didn’t act as though all was forgiven, but at least she didn’t threaten to call the sheriff. That was some small progress.

  “Better,” I said. “She’s out of surgery.”

  Marjorie nodded. “Good. What can I do for you?”

  “We’d like to see Tanya Dunseth, if you don’t mind.”

  Marjorie raised one questioning eyebrow, but she voiced no objections. “We’re just now picking up after dinner,” she said. “It’s cooler out on the back deck. Why don’t you wait there? I’ll send Tanya out as soon as we finish.”

  Halfway around the house, we walked past the entrance to that fateful basement. The wooden door was padlocked shut and sealed with strips of yellow crime-scene tape. I kept my eyes straight ahead.

  On the back deck, all evidence of the late-morning buffet had been totally erased. Some more or less permanent deck furniture remained, but most of the tables and chairs and all the food, tablecloths, and garlands had disappeared from the face of the earth. It was as though everyone at Live Oak Farm wanted to forget we were all supposed to be down in Lithia Park celebrating a wedding.