Mourning Commute

by Sam Cheever

  “If you believe that, you haven’t been paying attention. These guys take a low profile. They run their drugs and weapons through the city and nobody except the police know it. When they kill, they take their victims into the mountains and bury them there. When they steal, they generally do it outside of the state and make sure their victims don’t talk about it. This is a whole new breed of gang, Deitz. It’s one of the reasons they’ve been able to stay under the radar for so long.”

  “And we’re talking about them, why?” I asked, sitting back with a sore tummy from eating all of my pie and half of Deitz’s. “Why would these guys even go after the Mitners?”

  “Because they’ve been after Alex for years to help them clean up their crimes.”

  “I thought you said they do all their dirty deeds in the mountains.”

  James nodded, shoving his empty plate away and taking a sip of his coffee. “Discipline is hard. The organizations are brutal about infractions of the rules. Unfortunately, when dealing with low-level criminal types, mistakes are occasionally made. When that happens, they want to limit the exposure to their organizations.”

  “But as Eddie and I discussed, they’d need a dirty cop.”

  James nodded. “Yes.”

  “Robard?” Eddie asked.

  James grabbed the check and stood up. “Robard’s a friend of Alex’s.” He lifted one eyebrow, which I took to mean that Robard was considered off limits. But I’d been around cops and cop logic all my life, so I was nearly as cynical as my family. “If he’s dirty, he’ll throw Mitner under the bus to stay out of jail,” I told James.

  “You’re wasting your time looking at Tomlinson,” James said.

  “You don’t know that,” Eddie countered.

  James placed his hands on the table and leaned down, giving his old college buddy the stink eye. “Yes. I do.”

  He straightened and started toward the cash register up front. But, as he left, he got one more shot in. “I’ve got this, Deitz. Back off. Or you won’t like what happens next.”

  Hooboy! That sure sounded like a threat to me.

  I gave Deitz some time to cool down before I said anything. As a result, we were halfway across town before I spoke up. “Um, where are we going?”

  He spared me a glance. “We’ve danced around Tomlinson long enough.”

  I frowned. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means…” Eddie turned the truck through a large set of wrought iron gates and down a tree-lined drive into a parking lot adjacent to a one-story building constructed of pink stone and slate. Even I recognized The Executive Club, an exclusive golf course for only the most privileged in the Asheville area. “Um…this is a strange time to play eighteen holes, isn’t it?”

  He parked, ignoring me. As he turned the engine off, Eddie ran his gaze over the cars in the lot. It snagged on a low-slung bumblebee yellow two-door convertible that was parked under a tree at the edge of the lot. “He’s here.”

  “Who’s here?” I asked with some frustration.

  Deitz opened his door. “Tomlinson. I think it’s time we took this bull by the horns. Don’t you?”

  Eddie slammed the door closed on my response.

  Not that I had much for him anyway. Lip-flapping didn’t offer much in the way of conversation.

  I hurried across the lot after Eddie. “Hold on. What’s the play here? This is a private club. They aren’t going to just let us walk onto the course.”

  Eddie strode between a BMW and an Audi, his gaze locked on the Porsche Carrera GT that was parked across two spaces in the shade.

  I whistled when I realized what it was. “Argh would wet himself if he saw this car.”

  Eddie ignored my awe, his gaze on his watch. “He should be coming out any minute now.”

  “Tomlinson? How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because I spent two weeks following him everywhere he went. He’s a busy man who keeps to a rigid daily schedule. Especially now that he’s lining up donors and supporters for a run at Mayor. He starts very early almost every day with either a round of golf at this club or an hour on the driving range.”

  “Robard wasn’t kidding. You were following Tomlinson around?”

  “Him. And others.”

  “Which others?” I asked.

  “I spent some time watching Sugar Morellis’ organization.”

  “Alex thinks the cartel killed Josh?”

  “I’m not sure if he does. But James wasn’t lying. Morellis has made some not-so-veiled threats trying to force Alex to help them.”

  I had a thought that I hated. But it had to be considered. “Is it possible Alex has already helped the cartel and he’s trying to cover it up?”

  Eddie’s gaze spun my way. “You’re implying Alex had Josh killed to shut him up? His own son.”

  “I don’t want to imply that, but it happens, Deitz. You know it does.”

  He sighed. “I’ve considered it. After what you overheard at the viewing, Doc Leland would be suspect too.”

  I nodded.

  “There he is.” Eddie leaned against the car, crossing his arms over his chest and pointing a neutral expression toward the man striding across the lot in our direction.

  William Tomlinson looked to be just over six feet tall and was built like a swimmer, with sinewy limbs, broad shoulders and narrow hips. The navy Executive Club golf shirt and trim khaki colored slacks he wore fit him as if they’d been made by a tailor. And he moved with confidence, his stride long and loose.

  Tomlinson’s dark hair was cut business short, the cut a perfect frame for his narrow face and the sprinkle of gray on the sides giving him just enough maturity without making him seem old.

  I could easily see why an attractive thirty-something professional woman like Allie Landon would be drawn to him. A young and fit fifty years old, he exuded confident elegance without being too slick.

  Tomlinson would probably do well in his run for Mayor if he wasn’t in prison for murder.

  As he approached, Tomlinson glanced up and his neutral expression turned quickly to irritation as he spotted us. The irritation transformed even more quickly to anger when he saw Eddie leaning against his car. I didn’t blame him. The Porsche cost more than many people’s homes.

  “What are you doing? Get off my car!”

  Eddie complied, but he moved very slowly as if he were trying to annoy Tomlinson.

  Tomlinson’s handsome face turned dark. He shoved past Eddie to the car, running a long-fingered hand over the finish where Deitz had been sitting. “I’m just about over dealing with you reporters. You don’t respect anything.” He stood nose to nose with Deitz, a pulse dancing visibly in his sun tanned throat. “If you don’t leave me alone I’m going to get a restraining order.”

  Deitz lifted one hand and showed Tomlinson a laminated rectangle.

  I watched Tomlinson’s expression change. “You’re an investigator?”

  Deitz nodded.

  “Who are you working for?”

  Eddie shook his head. “That’s confidential. I wanted to get your side of things before my client went to the police.”

  Tomlinson’s color faded quickly as Eddie’s words took root. “What’s this about?”

  “We found the knife. I wondered if you wanted to tell us your side of the story before this all blows up.”

  Tomlinson’s color had continued to fade until the new paleness ate into his healthy, sun-kissed tan. “I have nothing to hide. I didn’t kill Allie. I couldn’t have killed her. I loved her.”

  His gaze skimmed to me and confusion filled his expression, but before he could ask about me, Deitz swayed sideways and got between us, forcing Tomlinson to look him in the eye. “Why’d you hide the knife?”

  Tomlinson shook his head. “I didn’t. I’m being framed.”

  Well, that was new. “By whom?” I asked.

  Tomlinson’s attention was drawn back to me. “I’m sorry, who exactly are you people? Who do you work for?�
��

  “I’ve already told you…” Eddie started.

  “Don’t bother,” Tomlinson said, cutting him off. “I know who you’re working for. You’re working for her brother.”

  Deitz didn’t deny it so I spoke up. “Ms. Landon’s family believes you knew about the scalpel and you killed her with it and then hid it.”

  He shook his head, looking at the ground between his and Eddie’s feet.

  “When they check it for DNA, are they going to find your blood and prints on it?” I asked softly.

  Tomlinson hesitated.

  Got ya! I thought.

  But his gaze, when he lifted it to me, was filled with such pain it made my lungs seize.

  “I told Collen I didn’t hurt his sister. I loved her. What’s it going to take to convince him?”

  Eddie shrugged. “Proof?”

  “I can’t give you proof. I wish I could. I swear I didn’t know that scalpel even existed. She never showed it to me. I came into her house that night and found her lying in a pool of blood.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his chocolate brown gaze shiny with unshed tears. “So much blood.” He shook his head. “I lost my mind. I tried to pick her up. I was going to take her to the hospital. Then I realized she was beyond help and I sat on the ground, holding her in my arms, just sobbing.”

  A niggle of doubt wormed its way through my gut. Despite what Collen Landon had said, William Tomlinson surely seemed like a grieving boyfriend. “Did you attempt CPR?”

  “No. It wouldn’t have mattered.”

  “Where was the knife when you found her?” Deitz asked.

  Tomlinson shook his head. “I don’t know. I never saw it.”

  “What did you think had happened when you walked in and found her?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Robbery? Maybe…” He swallowed hard, giving his head a shake as if to expel the concept of other, more horrifying types of physical abuse. “I never dreamed they’d blame me.”

  “Why do you think you’re being framed, Mr. Tomlinson?” I asked. “Who would frame you, and why?”

  Tomlinson didn’t answer my question. His expression lost some of its sadness, and he regained some color in his face. Finally, he sniffled. “I’ve told you everything I know. You can tell her brother that I’m innocent.”

  Eddie moved into Tomlinson’s comfort zone, holding his gaze. “Did you kill Josh Mitner?”

  Tomlinson’s expression seemed genuinely surprised. “Josh who? I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “I saw you leaving the Mitner home a month ago. Will you deny that you spoke with Alex Mitner about forming a partnership?”

  Tomlinson’s face seemed to clear. “Mitner…yes. I didn’t make the connection.” He shook his head, irritation returning. “Am I to be blamed for every death or murder in the city now?” He moved around Eddie and climbed into his car.

  The little car started up with a throaty purr that would have put even Betty’s perfect engine to shame. Tomlinson didn’t leave right away. He fixed Eddie with a hostile glare first. “I intend to find out who killed Allie and I’m going to clear my name,” he said. “I promise you that.”

  Watching him drive away, Deitz frowned. “Well, that’s certainly a different side of him than he showed during the post-murder interview.”

  “You got a chance to watch it?”

  He nodded. “Landon was as good as his word. He sent it over right after we spoke to him.”

  “Maybe he was just numb at the time,” I offered. I couldn’t help feeling like I’d just witnessed true grief. Though nobody knew better than I did how much good acting could skew impressions.

  “Maybe.”

  “But you don’t believe that, do you?”

  His frown cleared. “Let’s just say I’m skeptical. Mr. Tomlinson’s story doesn’t add up.”

  “He could have been framed,” I offered weakly.

  “He could have. But if he killed her, that would be a pretty handy smokescreen, wouldn’t it?”

  Yeah, I thought. It definitely would be.

  17

  I dropped my purse on the table by the door and went to let Shakes out of the Pom Hilton. He bounced happily alongside me as we headed for the door. I’d been a little surprised when Eddie had left without offering to walk Shakes with me. Actually, I was a bit disappointed. But I assumed he’d lost interest in the excruciatingly slow process of perfect potty spot selection.

  I could certainly identify. Although, as we stepped out into a beautiful, sunny North Carolina afternoon, I gave a happy sigh.

  After all, I could be one of the poor schmoes currently eyebrows deep in entrails and brain matter collection.

  I shuddered.

  Shakes looked up at me and barked happily.

  “I know, buddy. You’d probably like talking about entrails and brain matter. That’s right up your alley.

  My cell rang and I looked down at it. With a grimace, I hit Answer. “Lieutenant.”

  “MayBell.”

  Oh oh. No Punkin. That was a bad sign. “What’s up?”

  “You tell me.”

  A tension-filled silence followed his clipped response. I barely bit back a sigh. “Let me guess, you heard from Detective Robard.”

  “Why would I hear from him, MayBell? What business could you possibly have with a police detective who’s doing his job trying to solve a murder?”

  I couldn’t hold the sigh back any longer. It didn’t even help to see Shakes lift his stubby leg on a tree. “It’s not my fault,” I snapped my teeth closed on the rest of the sentence. My voice had come out entirely too whiny for a grown woman. “Look, Deitz and I were just walking Shakes last night and Robard pulled up and started harassing us.”

  “That’s what you’re going to go with?”

  “Yep.”

  When an unamused silence followed, I added a bit to my response.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “He just happened to see you on the street and stop to question you about a murder that happened in Asheville, of which you, MayBell Ferth the actress and fake mourner, have no business getting involved in?”

  “I know you can sniff a lie a mile away. Why would I risk lying to you?”

  It was a good question. And, also, a great dodge to the question he’d asked me.

  Unfortunately, the Lieutenant is much smarter than the average bear. “Nice try. Tell me why you and Deitz have been snooping around Allie Landon’s murder?”

  I thought about it for a beat, trying to decide if it was worth the grief to come clean, and then decided I really had no choice. “Because we think it’s somehow tied to Josh Mitner’s murder.”

  He expelled air into the phone lines. I waited for him to gather his wits about him, visualized him counting to fifteen in an effort to remain calm. In my mind, I saw him scrub a big hand over his no doubt prickly jaw before answering.

  He was pulling out all the stops on this one.

  “Lieutenant?”

  “Did I not tell you to stay away from the Mitner thing?”

  “You did but…”

  “Did you not promise me you would?”

  “I think so, but I…”

  “Are you a police officer, May? Did you go to the academy and get your badge without me knowing? If you did, I’m going to be mighty peeved. I wanted to be at your graduation. You wouldn’t deprive me of that would you, May?”

  Not a Punkin’ in the bunch. He was really ticked. “Look, Dad, I…”

  “Did I not warn you about that Deitz character? What is this, some late-blooming rebellious stage that features having a fling with a bad guy type? Because, May, if that’s all this is, then stop it! And if you must indulge in bad boy syndrome, at least find one that’s bad in a less dangerous and illegal way.”

  I frowned. “Dad, I’m thirty-three years old.”

  There was a beat of hesitation and then, “So?”

  “So, I’m really old enough to make my own decisions and go against your wishe
s. I’m an adult, Dad.”

  “You’re not acting like an adult.”

  “I most certainly am. I’m actually acting very much like an adult. It’s an adult thing to want to help when you see someone hurting or to ask questions when something doesn’t add up. Just like it’s an adult thing, when one finds oneself in danger, to try to find a way out of it.”

  The quality of the next beat of silence was different. I immediately realized my mistake.

  “Are you in danger, May?”

  I closed my eyes and hung my head. I’d let the cat out of the bag. And it was a really big dang cat. Bobcat sized. “It was just a figure of speech.”

  “No. No it wasn’t.” There were sounds of movement. “I’m coming over there.”

  “No! Dad, don’t come over here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was just leaving.”

  “Good. You can come by the house.”

  I thought fast. “No, I can’t. I have a…” I pulled a face. “A date.”

  “At two in the afternoon?”

  “Yes. We’re going to the zoo.”

  I had no idea where that had come from. I hadn’t been to the zoo in years.

  “I’ll call your brother and see if he can double date with you.”

  “Oh no you don’t!” I surprised even myself with the outburst. I’d never spoken to him that way. But I was desperate. And truth be told, I was a little sick of being treated like a stupid little girl. “I promise you that I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m not breaking any laws, and neither is Deitz.” I crossed my fingers on that one. I really didn’t know if he was breaking laws or not. “I need you to trust me on this, Dad. Trust me to act like an adult and do the right thing.”

  “If Robard comes to me again and tells me you broke the law, I won’t be able to save you, May.”

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  Silence. I chewed my lip, fighting the urge to apologize and capitulate. I hated disappointing the Lieutenant. But he really needed to learn to stay out of my business.

  “Fine. I’ll step back and trust you. But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. I love you, Dad.”