Molly came in and gave my cat her booster shot so that Kyle could remain in Diva’s good graces. Chaz was oddly silent on the way home, and I worried that I had gone too far. I pulled into his driveway and looked over at him after I put my car in park. Chaz was staring off into the distance as if lost in thought. A large grin split his face, and I looked through the windshield to see what made him smile, but didn’t see anything.
“Care to let me in on the secret?” I asked him.
Chaz jerked in his seat as if he forgot I was even with him. “Uh, I just had a thought.”
“And?”
“Strategy really,” he clarified. “For, um… my game.”
“A strategy for your game can make you smile that big?” I asked doubtfully.
“I just figured out the solution to a problematic part of the game, so, yeah,” Chaz replied. “No time like the present to get to it. I wish I could say it’s been fun today, but that would be a fucking lie.” He handed Diva’s cat carrier to me so that he could get out. “See you tomorrow,” he said absently before he shut the door. I could tell his mind had already gone back to his strategy.
Buddy was anxiously awaiting our return as if he was worried about Diva. The two had become friends rather quickly, but only after Buddy let her know he wouldn’t give into her demanding behavior. Buddy was licking the side of Diva’s face in greeting when I left them to reunite in the living room so I could change the sheets on my bed and set up a romantic scene with fresh linen and candles throughout the room.
I had just removed the comforter from my bed when movement across the alleyway caught my eye. A white moving van was backing into the driveway of the home that had belonged to my friend Bianca, who was murdered the year before. In fact, her case was the one that first brought Gabe to my door. Her house sat empty since she was killed, except for when my creepy ex-boyfriend squatted there to spy on Gabe and me, but it appeared the vacancy was coming to an end.
I watched as two tall men exited the van and walked around to the back to open the large sliding door. Their uniforms were the same color as the moving company logo painted boldly on the side of the truck. My creative brain immediately started to imagine who might be moving in. A sexy single guy for my Meredith? A young family with children whose laughter would echo throughout the streets during the spring and summer months?
One of the guys walked up the back steps to the door that opened into the kitchen. He disappeared inside for a few minutes then reappeared when the garage door opened from inside. I forgot all about my task and stood there gawking at the activity going on across the alley. I decided to guess who was moving in based on the furniture they unloaded.
The first item was a large ornately carved wooden headboard that took two of them to carry. Okay, that alone didn’t give much away. Next thing I saw was a gigantic flat screen TV that told me a man was moving in. But was he alone? I went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee when the movers didn’t return to the van right away. I wasn’t gone long, but when I returned, I saw that there was a sleek black Mini Cooper with white racing stripes on the hood parked in the driveway next to the moving truck. I had serious stripe envy and wondered if Princess would look cute with a set of silver ones.
My musings were interrupted when a tall, slender man walked out of the garage. I squinted my eyes and leaned closer to the window to get a better look. He appeared to be wearing a pair of AG jeans that cost as much as an hour in my salon chair. His shirt was a dove gray, long-sleeved T-shirt that bore the Hermes logo on it. I would’ve bet money that Gucci made the black leather biker boots he wore on his feet. Just who was this stylish man and what was he doing in Blissville?
The wind kicked up and blew his longish locks of dark brown hair away from his face making it look like a model shoot. It was hard to tell from where I stood, but I thought I saw strands of caramel highlighted hair when the sun came out from behind the clouds. I was willing to bet those highlights weren’t natural either. The man tilted his head back as if he was worshiping the early spring sun.
Suddenly, as if he felt my intense gaze focused on him, he lowered his head and looked in my direction. He was too far away to be certain, but it felt like our eyes locked regardless of the distance between us.
My heart raced suddenly while an inexplicable fear washed over me. I took a step back from the window and pulled the curtains closed, severing my connection with the man. I wasn’t sure how I knew it, but the stranger’s appearance in our neighborhood wasn’t an accident. I couldn’t be sure of what it meant, but I was certain I’d be the first to find out.
THE INTERVIEWS WITH THE club employees didn’t turn up any new leads. According to them, Nate hadn’t acted strangely leading up to his death, none of them were aware of any illegal activity occurring at the club, and none of them knew that Jonathon Silver existed until he bought the nightclub. On the surface, the interviews looked like a complete waste of time, but I wasn’t a surface guy.
“Did you notice how similar their answers are to one another?” I asked Dorchester and Weston. “As if they rehearsed what they were going to say before coming in.”
“I thought so too,” Weston replied.
“That may be,” Dorchester answered, “but their answers are nearly identical to the ones they gave the first time around. Typically, if they weren’t honest they would’ve deviated from their original answers.”
“Unless they were afraid for their lives,” I replied.
“True,” Dorchester and Weston agreed.
The interviews wrapped up early enough that I had time to think about my line of questioning for both Silver and his attorney. Admittedly, the original interview questions for the attorney, Rick Spizer, were pretty basic. It wasn’t that I expected to get a big confession that he helped cover up Nate’s illegal activity from him, but I hoped that I could at least rattle him enough to give us something.
The two men arrived fifteen minutes early, but I made them wait. I wanted them annoyed when the interview began in hopes that they’d let something fly. It worked well in some cases, but I wasn’t holding my breath with these two. One was a well-educated attorney, and the other was… I didn’t yet know, but I had already seen that he didn’t rattle easily.
“We’re going to question you first, Mr. Spizer,” I told the attorney as I led him to the first available interview room. “Then you can be present when we talk to Mr. Silver as he requested.”
“Fine,” Spizer said. Jonathon Silver said nothing as he followed Weston to another interview room down the hall.
I went through the routine of identifying myself and Dorchester for the recording before asking Spizer to state his full name and relation to Nate Turner. “Did Nate Turner tell you he was being harassed and threatened?” I asked, jumping right into the fire once he finished identifying himself for the recording.
“No,” Spizer replied calmly.
“Did Nate Turner involve you in covering up any illegal activities for him?”
“No.” Spizer’s tone remained steady.
“When did you learn that Jonathon Silver existed?” Dorchester asked.
I saw a slight crack in the attorney’s calm. He had to walk a fine line because he represented both the brother who died and the one who was sitting inside an interview room down the hall. He was limited to what he could say without a court order, which no judge would sign off on with the little evidence we found up to that point. I didn’t want to make an enemy of this guy, so I went easy on him.
“I’m not asking you to break confidentiality ethics, counselor. I’m simply asking when you became aware that Nate Turner had a twin brother, not how you found out,” I told him.
“It was June of last year, so around nine months,” he said after a short pause.
“A few months before Nate began receiving threats to his life,” I remarked. Spizer opened his mouth to argue, but I held up my hand to stop him. “Save your comments and defense for when I interview him. Let’s start with wh
y you didn’t feel the need to tell the police about Silver during your first interview.”
“No one asked,” Spizer fired back. “I only answered the questions they asked.”
“Counselor, Detective Jade asked for names of people who might give more information about what was going on in Nate’s life, and you said that you couldn’t provide any. Now, I’m not accusing you of lying, but I feel like you deliberately mislead the investigators.”
“I didn’t mention Jonathon because he tragically lost the brother he’d just found and was in a state of shock.” His answer was asinine.
“Mr. Spizer, let me be frank with you right now. Your actions don’t look like those of an attorney representing a client. If that had been the case, you would’ve notified the police that Nate Turner had a long-lost brother and would’ve asked for some time to let him adjust to the news before the interview or you would’ve made yourself available when he was questioned. You may not have a high opinion of police in general, but we are trained on how to handle bereaved family members.”
It was obvious by the way he stiffened in his chair that he was offended by my admonishment. He was in for a real treat if he thought that was bad. I asked a few more questions that received “no” or “I don’t know” answers before I ended the interview. I hadn’t expected to get much out of Spizer anyway, but I at least found out how long he’d known about Jonathon Silver.
The three of us walked to the interview room where Silver was waiting for us, sipping coffee from the disposable cup like he didn’t have a care in the world. I went through the same routine as I did with Spizer, but went a step further. Even though he wasn’t under arrest, I read Jonathon Silver his Miranda Rights and watched him closely to gauge his reaction. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened hard enough that I expected to hear his teeth crack, which told me he wasn’t happy at all.
“Thank you for coming in today,” I said once I was ready to begin. “Can you please state your full name for the recording and relationship to the victim, Nathaniel Turner.” I saw Silver flinch slightly when I said his brother’s name. The reaction was so minuscule that I would’ve missed it had I not been trained to look for it.
“Jonathon David Silver and Nathaniel Turner is… was my brother.” His words faltered a bit toward the end. Earlier that morning in his office, Silver exhibited anger and arrogance, neither of which were present a few hours later. He was more soft-spoken and subdued. Was it genuine or an act in front of the attorney?
“Can you tell us who might’ve wanted to kill your brother?” I asked.
“No,” he said softly. “He told me about the threats, of course, but he said he didn’t know why he was receiving them.”
“Did you believe him?” Dorchester asked from beside me.
Silver released a long frustrated sigh. “Honestly? No. Nate was a very private man and getting to know him had been hard. He was totally shocked to learn he had a twin brother and that he didn’t really know the parents who raised him, so you can imagine that he had some serious trust issues.”
“What do you mean that he didn’t know his adoptive parents very well?” I asked. Silver made it sound like they were shady in some way.
“They never told him about me so he began to wonder what other secrets they might’ve been hiding,” Silver replied.
“Are you implying that him digging into their background had something to do with the threats?” Dorchester asked.
Silver shrugged and said, “The timing works.”
“As does your appearance in his life,” I told Nate’s brother. “It’s pretty easy to deflect guilt on the dealings of a deceased couple.” I turned to Spizer, who had reportedly been the family attorney for decades. “Could there be any truth to what Silver said?”
“Not that I’m aware of, Detective. I wasn’t Charles and Marie’s attorney at the time of Nate’s adoption. I found out about Jonathon from Nate,” Spizer replied. “I can attest that Nate was angry and bitter that he’d gone his entire life without knowing about Jonathon.”
“How’d you find out about Nate?” I asked Jonathon.
“Nate was given up for adoption, but I was not. Our birth mom raised me, and she told me about Nate before she died.” He swallowed hard, and I could tell it was still an emotional thing for him to discuss. It appeared to be the first honest reaction I’d gotten out of him. “The details about the adoption are irrelevant to Nate’s death, and I prefer not to speak about them.”
“I take it that you are the beneficiary of your brother’s estate,” I commented.
“Yes,” Silver answered between gritted teeth, clearly not liking where my line of questioning was going.
“Can you tell us where you were between the years of your birth and 2014 when you magically appeared in Louisiana?” I asked.
“Don’t answer that,” Spizer informed his client. “Detective, that’s completely irrelevant and none of your business.”
“I don’t agree, counselor.” I leaned forward and pinned Silver with a damning glare. “Your client surfaces out of nowhere with no past to speak of, and his wealthy brother gets killed within months. Now he owns his brother’s business, drives an identical car, and has access to his fortune. Do you live in his house too? Sleep in his bed?” I asked Silver.
“That’s enough, Detective!” Spizer said firmly.
Silver didn’t move, not even to blink when I threw accusations at him. I knew damn well that I was looking at a man who’d been trained to hide his reactions. CIA? Elite Special Forces? Did he kill his brother to get access to his wealth or had his past actions possibly gotten Nate killed?
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Silver finally said after a long silence. “I was ecstatic to find my brother, and I had no reason to hurt him.”
“Nate’s homicide was very personal,” I told him. “Someone stalked him, threatened him, ran his car off the road, and put a bullet in his head. We’re talking about a trained killer who leaves behind no evidence. Someone knows something, and they better start talking before whoever killed Nate decides to start eliminating risks.”
“Is this an example of how you deal with bereaved family members after a loss, Detective?” Spizer asked. “If so, I’m not at all impressed.” The attorney put his hand on his client’s shoulder then said, “We’re done here, Jonathon.”
“Just one more thing,” I demanded. Both men halted from rising from the chairs and looked at me. “Where were you the night of January twenty-second?” I asked Silver.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Spizer told his client.
“It’s okay, Rick,” Silver said, patting Rick’s arm before he reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. “These men can attest to my whereabouts that night and morning.” The wink he gave me said they hadn’t been playing poker all night long.
I looked at the list and was surprised to see the names of four men and their phone numbers. Yeah, my mind went there, and I wondered if he entertained them individually or all at the same time. The dark chuckle that rumbled from his chest told me it was the latter.
“What can I say? I have a very healthy appetite.”
Both men rose to their feet and started to exit the room. “I’ll let you know if I have any more questions,” I said to their retreating backs. Neither man responded in any way.
“What do you think?” Dorchester asked me once I shut the recording equipment off.
“I don’t know what to think,” I replied honestly. “We need to find out more about Nate’s adoptive parents and the details of the adoption. Maybe what he suggested has merit. We can’t afford to ignore any avenue if we want justice.” Silver’s tone had turned chilly when he mentioned Nate’s adoptive parents. It said to me that he knew—or at least suspected—more than he let on. His unwillingness to talk about his childhood or the reason his mom gave up one child and not the other was bizarre.
Dorchester looked at his watch and said, “At least we’re down to o
ur final interview for the day.” I could tell he was as ready to head back home as I was.
Marlon Bandowe appeared right on time. He dressed like a man who was as conservative as he was reported to be and looked extremely nervous. I introduced myself and Dorchester and saw how badly his hand shook when I extended my hand to him in greeting. He greatly resembled a timid mouse.
“Have a seat, Mr. Bandowe,” I said. “Thank you for coming in today. This meeting should be brief.”
“Thank you, Detective Wyatt. This whole thing has been completely unsettling.” I found it odd that he referred to the slaying of his former partner as unsettling. We were talking about death, not an ill-prepared meal.
“Forgive me for saying so, but you and Nate Turner seem like improbable business partners,” I told the man, which earned a small smile.
“I imagine so,” he said. “Our families were great friends, and we grew up together. I knew the man my entire life, so I didn’t hesitate when he asked me to be a silent partner in his club.”
“See here’s the thing I don’t understand about that,” I told Bandowe. “Nate Turner had plenty of money, so why did he need your startup capital?”
“Well, he… uh…”
“Was his money tied up in a trust at the time?” Dorchester asked while the man was still stuttering out an answer.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I didn’t ask him,” Bandowe replied.
“That doesn’t make sense either,” I said, leaning forward so I could enjoy watching the man squirm. “I’ve read many articles about your ‘Christian family values’ and your stance on issues involving LGBTQ equality. You’re not an ally to the LGBTQ community, yet you finance and are part owner of a gay nightclub.”
“It was a good business deal,” he said defensively. “I kept my personal beliefs out of the business dealings.”
Dyed and Gone to Heaven (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #3) Page 5