Shades of Deception

by Charlie Hudson

  “The other reason Cunningham had no problem with accepting an individual as a sociopath or psychopath — whichever it is — has a very personal angle for him. It turned out their longtime family financial advisor had been embezzling from his clients for years. It finally collapsed and, without getting into details, I gather few assets were recoverable. He said as much of a hit as he took, others had it worse and discovering how they’d all been fleeced was pretty tough for everyone to handle.”

  “Ah,” Bev said and looked up to see Kyle walk in.

  Les glanced over his shoulder and pushed out of the chair. “I’ll see if the Chief is ready for me.” He wordlessly shook Kyle’s hand and closed the door behind him.

  Bev managed a smile and let him pull her into his arms. The work she still had to do could wait for a few minutes. Resting her head against his chest and feeling the warmth of his embrace would get her through the rest of the day.

  “You can tell me everything later,” he said softly into her hair. “All that matters is, you’re safe.”

  Martha set a small plate with a brownie and a mug of coffee in front of Bev. They were at the same table where they’d had the original talk about Crystal. “Since I assume you’re going to tell me you’re on duty, chocolate is almost as good as booze in these situations. They’re chocolate chunk by way which makes them even more therapeutic. I picked them up from The Best Cup, although I do like baking my own when I have time. Speaking of which, you’ll like the new place when you get a chance to go in.” She walked backward to the peninsula to get her own serving, then settled in the chair across from Bev. She pinched a piece of brownie and held it near her mouth. “I followed the articles in the news — wasn’t sure when you might be able to fill me in.”

  Bev felt no guilt with the idea of brownie therapy. She’d added an extra mile to her last few runs. Running had been an emotional release for her since she’d started in track and field when she was eleven. “It’s been intense, but things are calming down,” she said.

  Bev had gladly accepted Les’ offer to talk to both Matt Raney and Deena Pierce’s parents. She’d briefly wondered if hearing the truth was going to make their losses more difficult. Walt had been her first promised follow-up since she knew he would ask the least questions. Nina had been relieved she was wrong about Fitzhugh and gracious in not gloating at having been correct to raise the alarm about Raney’s death. Zia’s profanity-laced righteous wrath had lasted nearly five full minutes, capped with apologies for the rant and appreciation for Bev letting her know Deena hadn’t died from being stupid. Maybe that had been the reaction of Pierce’s parents.

  One of Martha’s skills, whether natural or learned, was the completeness of her attention. Bev had been with her when domestic violence victims would refuse to talk to police and after half an hour with Martha, the ugly truth would be shared. “How much can you tell me?”

  Bev relished a bite of brownie before answering. “The real story starts with the grandmother if you want all of it.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised based on our previous discussion. I’ve got the whole afternoon. Talk away.”

  Bev didn’t use names, of course, to reveal people like Nina — the term reliable source served the purpose and she laid out the sequence, beginning with Deena Pierce. Martha quietly refilled their coffees and split another brownie between them. “You do realize there was no reason to be suspicious early on, don’t you?”

  Bev tapped the edge of the mug with her forefinger. “Intellectually, sure.”

  The older woman leaned forward slightly. “You’ve dealt with other stone-cold killers.”

  “Not teenage girls,” Bev said before she stopped herself.

  There was nothing lecturing about Martha’s expression or her tone. “It goes back to what I told you before about my semester in working with the women’s prison. There was no reason for me to have gone into detail, but it might be helpful now for you to know a little more. Two women on the maximum security side who were serving life without parole were especially disturbing. I had spoken with my professor about the career-choice crossroads I felt I was approaching and she suggested I read the files on these two.”

  What was Martha’s point?

  “In one case, the background from early childhood on was about as sickening as you’ll find. The argument could easily be made the woman’s ultimate behavior was greatly shaped by the terrible, unrelenting abuse she’d been subjected to. Not so with the other one. In fact, she had been the subject of a study not long after she was convicted so there was a lot of information that wouldn’t ordinarily be available. When you saw everything together, you could see incidents were ignored or denied during her adolescence and teen years. You couldn’t have asked for a less traumatic environment to grow up in and I don’t know any upper middle-class parents who want to think their daughter is displaying psychopathic tendencies.” Martha held up one finger. “The reason I’m telling you this is, it sounds like Crystal didn’t make many mistakes, and she probably would have enhanced her skills over time. I’m not saying she was a serial killer in the sense of going out and selecting victims based on some criteria. She murdered three people with great deliberation and planning though and would have killed you and Gary Fitzhugh precisely because of her view of how to protect and further herself. It’s difficult to know how many lives you saved. At least that’s my take.” Martha smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure you know all this. I just thought you might need to hear it said out loud by someone else.”

  Bev held up the last bite of brownie. “Double therapy in one sitting. Hard to beat.”

  “I do what I can,” she said and held her mug out in the gesture of a toast. “Here’s to the good guys winning.”

  Bev touched her mug to the other. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Martha said warmly. “Who knows, I might ask for access to the files one of these days for a case study. I’ve been considering going after my PhD.”

  “No shit? That’s a hell of a lot of work.”

  “True. The nice thing is distance learning has made it a lot more approachable. I’ll let you know what I decide.”

  Bev checked the time before she pulled into the street. Pam Kineski had called and asked her to come by Marty’s if she could. She said she would explain and thought it was something Bev would enjoy hearing. There was no change from the previous time Bev was there, with a nearly empty bar waiting for the five o’clock-ish regulars to roll in. The three men on barstools watching the Marlins game were no doubt the same ones as well.

  Kineski waved her to a back table as she had done before and brought a Diet Coke without asking. Her own drink had more water and ice than whiskey this time. “Thanks for coming. I don’t give a shit if I’m not supposed to say it, but I’m glad as hell you killed that little psycho bitch.”

  “Uh well…” Bev started and stopped when Kineski waved her hand.

  “Forget what I said. I can’t expect you to be able to admit something like that, even if you agree. Anyway, that wasn’t what I called about. I imagine the case is pretty well closed.”

  Bev nodded. “Yeah, there’s not much left to take care of.” Had Kineski remembered something else? If so, would it matter at this point?

  “I don’t want to waste your time, but I thought you might like to hear something decent has come out of this goddamn mess.”

  Bev lifted her drink. “Sure.”

  Kineski smiled. “The lawyer, Malcom — the one in the trailer park? Cathy had talked about him some and for a little while, I thought maybe she could get something going with him, but like I told you before, she had pretty rotten judgement when it came to men. He was the kind that should have been her type and wasn’t. I met him when we did the service for Cathy and then when I read about him in the paper, I called and we got together. It was nice to know he was closer to her than I thought. N
ot romantic-wise, but as a friend and he told me all about his suspicions when it came to Crystal. He’s a hell of a smart guy.”

  The softness of Kineski’s voice was as unmistakable as it was surprising, and Bev stifled a grin at the thought of the two together.

  “I don’t know what all kind of evidence you put together, but was there anything in it about an Audubon print?”

  Bev was startled. The computer forensics team had cataloged Crystal’s on-line searches and strengthened the circumstantial evidence of the girl’s multiple threads of research. The ones about Audubon had seemed normal enough.

  “I don’t really need an answer. See, Malcom, he’s a birder and that’s one of the reasons he loves being here. That was something else about Cathy people didn’t know. I don’t mean she was an expert like him or anything, but she did enjoy talking to him about birds. Since there wasn’t anyone else to do for Cathy, what with everything that happened, Malcom got to work and found some cousin out in Kansas who’s a pretty distant relative, but I guess the actual legal heir. She isn’t really interested in anything and he’s going to take care of everything for her with selling the trailer and all. The thing is though, there is this sketch of a pelican. I mean like probably an original Audubon.”

  The pieces snapped into place. “And the money would have all come to Crystal.”

  “Exactly. We’re not talking some undiscovered masterpiece, but still valuable. Malcom says there’s no way Cathy had it and didn’t come to him for advice. When he found the sketch in the back room, he figured it was one of those weird things. See, we all knew Cathy loved garage sales and she must have picked it up like in a box deal or something and never realized it was there. We don’t know how Crystal worked it out, but it makes sense in a sick kind of way.”

  Bev nodded again. Son-of-a-bitch, more motive for sure.

  “Anyway, Malcom is nothing if not an up-and-up guy even if he is a lawyer. He was honest with the cousin, but when he told her what he wanted to do, she said it seemed only fair and so he’s exchanging all his services for the sketch.”

  “I would think he’ll enjoy it,” Bev said mildly.

  “No, no, not for him.” Keniski said quickly. “You know the wild bird rescue folks? The group that takes the wounded and sick birds in and either fixes them up for release or keeps them safe?”

  “Yes, I like the organization.”

  “Yeah, Cathy used to go there sometimes and even help out occasionally. The point is, their big fundraiser is coming up in a couple of months. Malcom will get the sketch appraised and he’ll contribute it to them in her name. He says it will be a really big deal and ought to bring a decent price.”

  “I would think so,” Bev agreed. She drained her drink and pushed away from the table. “You’re right. As bad as this situation was, at least some good came from it.”

  “Go figure,” Kineski said and stood. “You never fucking know, if you’ll excuse my French.”

  “That’s true,” Bev said and held out her hand. “I hope things go well for you.”

  Kineski picked up the glasses. “I learned a long time ago to take it one day at a time and all things considered, today is working out just fine.”

  Although Bev didn’t entirely subscribe to the philosophy, it beat excessive worrying. She exited the bar and idly wondered if there was any chance for Kineski and Cunningham. As unlikely as it seemed at first thought, she didn’t really know anything about either of them. Maybe they had more in common than their respective affection for Catherine Sharpe.

  The station was quiet when she returned. Taliah waved her to her desk and pointed to the chair. Her ensemble today was a pair of turquoise slacks and a blouse with images of overlapping peacock feathers. The large gold hoop earrings were a pair she favored and she’d toned down the nail polish to what was, for her, a sedate pink. “That hunk of a husband of yours called and said to tell you if you were planning anything for dinner to forget it because he had something special in mind.” Her expression shifted from teasing to warm concern. “In fact, the Chief has already left and Les said he wasn’t coming back after his doctor’s appointment unless there was something big. There’s not enough going on this afternoon to worry with and you should take off yourself.” She held up one finger before Bev objected and lowered her voice.

  “I’ve kept my peace, what with everything in such a ruckus, but you’ve got all those T’s crossed and I’s dotted and taking a teensy bit of time off isn’t going to hurt. It’s been one hell of a week.”

  Disagreeing with Taliah was rarely a battle to be won and she did have a valid point, as was usually the case.

  The other woman’s wide mouth flashed an urging smile. “You know good and well I’m right. I bet there won’t be anything more than a few drunks to be handled tonight. Won’t need any detective work for them. Get on out of here.”

  A laugh bubbled from Bev and she leaned over to pat Taliah’s forearm. “No wonder you’re my favorite.”

  “I’m your favorite ‘cause you’re a smart woman,” she said with a shooing motion of her hand.

  “Ten minutes in the office and I’m gone,” Bev said and was relieved to see there was nothing urgent in her email in-box. She sent a text to Kyle to tell him she was on the way, ready for her surprise. After hearing about the decency of Cunningham, whatever Kyle had planned would definitely cap the day off as a good one.

  Bev beat her fingers against the steering wheel in time to one of Jimmy Buffet’s older songs, “Tuscaloosa Run,” on her way home. She hadn’t given much thought to dinner other than they had a package of chicken breasts in the refrigerator. A new Italian bistro had taken over from a short-lived, failed seafood place and they’d heard good reviews. Maybe that was the plan.

  Kyle had beat her home and she entered from the carport to see him holding a flute of champagne in his left hand. He slid his right arm around her waist, pulled her close and kissed her before she could ask the obvious question.

  “Love that kind of welcome,” she said when he drew back, his blue eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter. She deposited her purse on the counter next to an empty flute.

  He was wearing a pair of dusty blue lightweight cargo shorts, a blue batik short-sleeve shirt and boat shoes. “All will soon be revealed. Sip this, go take a lovely shower if you’d like and change into something comfortable and breezy. I have one more thing to do and I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”

  “We’re dining dockside somewhere?” She took a sip of champagne. She’d guessed incorrectly about the Italian bistro. It was in a strip shopping center away from the water.

  “In a manner of speaking,” he said and swept his hand toward their picnic basket. “Play along with no more questions. You’re going to enjoy this.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. A hot shower did sound good. Since Kyle was dressed so casually, she opted for jade green twill shorts, a pale blue tank top and a parrot print short-sleeve shirt she left unbuttoned. She did a quick French braid with her hair and decided the silver turtle pendant and earrings were the right accesories.

  “Gorgeous as always,” Kyle said from the door. “Everything is ready, unless you have something else you need to do.”

  “No, I’m good. I checked email before I left the office.” It was a bit early to be leaving for dinner unless they were driving deeper into the Keys.

  Bev noticed the picnic basket was no longer in the kitchen. Ah, it must be in the Explorer. A sunset picnic wasn’t what she’d envisioned, but she was up for it.

  Kyle locked the side door and Bev paused before going to the Explorer. “Are we taking yours or mine?” With no threat of rain, a drive with the top down on the convertible would be fitting.

  “Neither. We’re walking to the Homeowner’s Park,” he said and reached for her hand.

  “Oh, you rented a boat? That’s what’s going on?”

&
nbsp; “In a manner of speaking,” he repeated with a grin. “I’ve mentioned Connor Nesbitt, whose firm is in Tallahassee. He’s great guy, marine engineer. Even though they do have a division that handles coastal and wetland clean-up, their real specialty is working with projects to prevent potential damage to ecosystems. Looks to bring consensus instead of multiple groups getting into stalemates and drawn-out legal tangles. He’s excellent at analysis when two sets of experts are giving exactly opposite opinions about a particular project. Oh, and his wife, Ellen, is a high school biology teacher. She’s a fun lady, too. She’s been to dinner with us a couple of times.”

  The park was empty of people, a boat trailer to the left and a boat tied to the short dock. Kyle grinned and led her forward to the Sun Fun. “It’s nothing fancy and won’t hold a crowd. It’s set up nicely for a couple though.”

  Bev walked the length of the Carver. Nice shape if not new. Twin 350 Crusader engines. “She’s thirty feet?”

  “A little more,” Kyle said and waved his hand to the small swim platform. “Not ideal for diving, but we like going out with Walt anyway. We can stick with snorkeling when we’re out on this. Come see the rest.”

  An L-shaped sitting area by the Captain’s chair would make for easy lounging and they stepped down inside. Two more chairs and a square coffee table gave more seating which opened into an adequate galley equipped with a small refrigerator, two burner stove, microwave, and sink. Their picnic basket and a cooler were on the counter. The triangular dining table was forward with cushioned benches. Navy, yellow, and white striping fabric dominated, fresh looking enough to have been recently refurbished.

  “It is a double bed in the cabin,” Kyle said with a grin. “Just means we snuggle closer than in a queen and yes, there’s a full head.”

  The cabin décor was in lighter shades of blue, with more white laminate cabinetry than she expected to see. A vanity with a sink was between the full-size bed and a twin that had one of their travel duffel bags on top of it.