by Al Stevens
“And you?”
“I didn’t even buy lunch. But Serena will tell you I was with her.”
Missy left, and Ramon came in and put a pot of coffee and a cup on the table. He poured me a cup and left.
Usually in a situation like this, the tendency is to cut corners, save time, and not interview a corroborating witness. I would expect Serena to say what Missy said she would say. But experience had taught me to expect the unexpected. And, besides, it was Serena. I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to look at her again. I asked her to come in.
The young woman was so beautiful that I found it difficult to concentrate. She was wearing that same bikini with the white terrycloth robe hanging off her shoulders. When she sat, she crossed her legs so that the robe fell off them such that they were on full display to her best advantage. I am a weak man. I was ready to believe anything she said. I have to work on that.
“So you’re a detective,” she said. “That must be like exciting.”
She uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them the other way. Be still my heart.
“No, it’s mostly boring routine work.”
“Well, I’m impressed. Some day you’ll have to tell me some of your stories.”
Take a deep breath. Relax. Down to business.
“Serena, I understand that you went shopping the day of the murder.”
“What day was that?” she asked.
What woman could forget the day a murder happened of which her husband had been accused? I told her the date.
“That’s too long ago. I don’t know where I was.” She flicked a bit of lint off her shoulder and looked into my eyes. Fortunately I was looking at her face at the time and not other places that were demanding my attention. She smiled. I smiled back. The gaze took longer than it should have. Then I snapped out of it and continued.
“It would be the day you went to Belksdales with Missy.”
“Oh, that day. I decided at the last minute to like go out. I was in town the whole day from when Buford got home.”
“And Missy was with you?”
“Not the whole day. She like doesn’t get up that early.”
“When did she join you?”
“For lunch. There’s this really chic little vegetarian restaurant in the town square. All kinds of, y’know, mushroom dishes and cheese soups. We ate there.”
“And you didn’t see her before that?”
“No.”
“Did you drive yourself into town?”
“No. Ramon drove me. I don’t like to drive in traffic.”
“Did he stay with you all day?”
“No, he waits in the car. And he returned here just before lunch to get Missy. After he dropped her off, I guess he was, y’know, in the car. He like picked us up later to bring us home.”
I wrote what she said in my notebook.
“Mr. Bentworth, you are going to like find out who killed that man, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to try.”
“And Buford will be y’know cleared?”
“I hope so.”
“So do I. Buford and I are true soul mates like ever since we met.”
“Where did you meet?”
“I was a dancer at a club in Philadelphia. He knew the owner who introduced us. We both knew immediately that we were y’know meant for each other. Ever since then we’ve been like two stones that pass in the night.”
She said that just as I was taking a swallow of coffee. The coffee shot out of my nose and went down my shirtfront. I grabbed a napkin and sopped it up. I suppressed my laughter and asked her to send Sanford in.
Serena’s story had sent three alibis out the window. Ramon wasn’t where he said he was. Neither was Missy. Sanford’s alibi depended on Ramon’s. And if the store receipts didn’t bear her out, Serena had nothing to back up her story either. My gut instinct was right. Always get statements from everybody even when you think you know what they’ll say. They can surprise you.
One more to go. Sanford came in. I had saved him for last. He’d be the toughest one to read.
“Sanford, where were you when the murder went down?”
“Here.”
“All day?”
“Yes.”
“Can anybody vouch for that?”
“Ramon can.”
Always let the subject know he’s been caught in a lie. His reaction to that can tell you a lot.
“That’s what he said too,” I said, watching Sanford closely. “But I’ve also been told that he drove the ladies into town that morning and was away from here until the afternoon.”
Sanford did not answer. He just sat and looked at me.
“Can you explain why he’d say that?” I asked after waiting for the response that didn’t come.
“Yes.”
“What’s the explanation?”
“The four of us need to get our stories straight.”
Another surprise. He had just admitted that their alibis were contrived to account for a period of time that none of them could account for.
His answer also revealed that he didn’t give a shit what they told me. I’m not the cops.
“By the way,” I said. “Thanks for fixing that wise guy problem I had. I owe you.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Understood. That’s about it. Could you find Mr. Overbee and ask him to come in?”
Sanford left and Buford came in, settled in a chair, and got a drink from Ramon.
“Buford,” I said, “everybody tells a different story. As near as I can tell, the only one who isn’t lying is Serena.”
“She’s too dumb to lie,” he said. “That’s what I love about her. Among other things.”
“Well, the result is that I got nothing to eliminate any of them except maybe Serena from the likely suspect list.”
“You got to crawl before you can walk,” he said. “One step at a time.” His mixed metaphors told me that my lack of success with the interrogations didn’t bother him.
“Do you have all the credit card receipts for that day? It’ll tell us whether Serena was shopping in the morning.”
“Yeah, she keeps everything.”
He got up and went out of the office. After a few minutes he came back in leafing through a handful of cash register receipts.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “Not only do I have the mob and the cops on me, but Citibank is going to be coming after me too.”
I took the receipts from him and checked the time stamps. Serena was exonerated.
On the drive back to the office I went over the four interrogations in my head. What would Bill Penrod have done that I didn’t do? I tried to recall how we bounced off one another during an interrogation. I’d proceed as I had today, and then, at every inconsistency in a suspect’s story, Bill would jump in, yell at them, accuse them of the crime, and demand that they change their story and come clean or face arrest for obstruction, lying to a cop, impeding an investigation, or any one of a number of charges that he could cite or make up. He’d intimidate witnesses until they either broke down or convinced him that they didn’t do it. If they did neither, he’d fall back and let me take over again.
That’s what Bill would have done. I’m not like that. I was always the good cop. Besides, this time I was questioning the people on our side. It was a confusing dichotomy.
Chapter 25
Ray’s Diner wouldn’t be crowded this time of day. The lunch rush was over, and dinner wasn’t for a few more hours. I stopped to get a quick burger on my way back from Buford’s. Bunny took my order without saying anything extra. That was okay with me.
I said, “The usual.”
She said, “And that would be...”
“A burger like always.”
“And how would you like it cooked?”
“Oh, knock it off, Bunny, and bring the fucking burger.”
“My, my. Testy, aren’t we?” She left to put in my order.
I sat while I
waited for the burger and went over my notes, trying to figure out what the next step would be.
Perhaps Rodney’s search for other witness protection clients would provide a lead. I could only imagine how my visits to them would be received.
“Hi,” I’d say. “I understand you’re in the witness protection program.”
I’d be about as welcome as Charles Manson and his bevy of blade-slinging bitches.
Bunny brought my burger and sat down across from me, interrupting my deep thoughts. She just sat and looked at me. Then she said, “Aren’t you even going to talk to me?”
I wanted to, but Willa’s and Sammy’s advice had taken hold. This was not the time to cave in and set myself up for yet another letdown.
I took a big bite of burger, chewed it up, and swallowed. Then I took a gulp of coffee. Then I wiped my face with my napkin. Then I answered.
“I thought we already understood that you weren’t to talk to me.” I said.
“We can’t go on like this, Stan.”
“Why not?”
“We are friends, aren’t we?”
“No,” I said. “We are not. We are former lovers, one of which dumped the other for the last time. Now go away, and leave me alone.”
She sat and fiddled with a napkin, folding it and unfolding it as if the small task gave her a reason to stay.
“I didn’t keep the date,” she said.
“What date?”
“With Barry.”
“Poor Barry, how did he take it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him.”
“You stood him up?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe Barry and I can form a club. Bunny Rejects Anonymous. BRA. Has a ring to it.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“We can have monthly meetings here. Can’t wait for the T-shirts. When one of us has an overwhelming urge to call you, he calls his BRA sponsor, who rushes over no matter the time of day or night, and the two of them get drunk together.”
“Very funny,” she said. “You don’t have to be mean.” She got up and stomped away. According to Willa, she’d be back. I was counting on that.
I finished lunch and counted the money out. Rodney came in.
“Uncle Stanley, I hoped you’d be here. Can you stay while I have lunch?”
“Sure.”
Rodney ran up to the counter and gave Bunny his order. He came back and sat across from me.
“No candy bar and Coke?” I said.
“No. The dental hygienist at my dentist’s said I needed to take better care of my teeth.”
“You go to the dentist?” That was new.
“I do now.”
Apparently Rodney was serious about a professional career.
“What are you going to do with all those low-crotch shorts you used to wear?”
“Mom had a yard sale.”
“Heaven help the neighbors.”
“Okay, Uncle Stanley, I did some of the research you asked for.”
I sat forward. Anything he could get would be better than nothing.
“Did we get anything?”
“Did we ever? You aren’t going to believe it.”
He sat and looked smug. Bunny brought his lunch, a burger just like I had, and plopped it down without speaking.
“Well,” I asked Rodney, “how long do I have to wait to hear it?”
“Brace yourself.” He took a bite of the burger and talked through his food. “I found only one person in this area in witness protection.”
“Who?”
“Grab your jock strap. It’s William Sproles.”
“Holy shit! That is something.”
Rodney was excited and proud about his find. “That’s why I couldn’t find anything about them before they moved here. I wasn’t looking in the right place.”
“Was Vitole blackmailing him?”
“I didn’t find any record of it.”
“Sproles has a crappy job and house and car payments. He couldn’t pay Vitole squat.”
“I checked OnlinePay. There’s no record of Sproles sending any money to Vitole.”
“Well, they were neighbors. Maybe he paid in person.”
Rodney shook his head. “I got into their financials pretty deep, Uncle Stanley. I found no record of Sproles paying anyone anything out of the ordinary.”
If Sproles wasn’t paying money to keep Vitole’s mouth shut, how was he doing it? I had a hunch. But it wasn’t much more that that.
“Well, that’s good to know. Good work, Rodney. See what a haircut and a bath can do for a guy?”
“Now can I go on the next interrogation?”
“No. But you get a bonus.”
“I do?”
“Yeah. I’ll buy your lunch.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Who did Sproles testify against before he went underground?”
“He was an accountant. Used to do the books for a syndicate of drug dealers in Baltimore. He rolled on them when the IRS found shaky bookkeeping in his own personal finances.”
I put money on the table for Rodney’s burger. Rodney gulped down his meal, chug-a-lugged his coffee, and we left.
Bunny watched us go but didn’t say anything.
Chapter 26
Rodney and I returned to the office. The stairs were getting easier. He added the new information about Sproles to the whiteboard. I sat back, and chewed on it a while. All I had was speculation. Nothing concrete.
Given that William Sproles was in witness protection, and that the late Mario Vitole was a retired handler, I wanted to go back and interrogate Sproles, Marsha Sproles, and Stella Vitole. But I didn’t have anything to go on.
This would be one of those occasions where I could have used Bill Penrod’s skills in the room. I was hoping for a confession. One of them, two of them, or all of them had something to do with Vitole’s killing, of that I was certain. But first I needed more evidence, something to back up my suspicions, something they couldn’t deny. I called Buford.
“Are Ramon and Sanford available?”
“I can make them available. When do you want to see them?”
“Right away.”
“Come on out.”
I drove to the Heights. By now Bob knew me on sight and waved me through the gate. Same with Buford’s guards at his gate and his door. The guy at the door told me to go into the study.
Buford, Ramon, and Sanford were in the study. Buford had a drink and sat in one of the easy chairs. The other two stood alongside him.
Buford wasn’t wearing his bracelet. I didn’t ask.
“You need me to leave?” Buford asked.
“No. There’s nothing you can’t hear. With luck, what we learn here will get you off the hook. Let’s all sit down.”
The two employees sat on the leather couch, and I sat in the other chair. I got straight to the point.
“Your alibis don’t wash. You weren’t here shooting pool all day. Now I know you guys take turns chauffeuring the ladies around when they go shopping or wherever. What I need to know is this. From the time of the murder until when Mr. Overbee was formally charged the next day, is there any time that the Rolls was left in a public place unattended?”
They looked at each other as if one could tell the other what to say.
“We usually stay with the car,” Ramon said.
“Except when we don’t,” Sanford said.
Ramon seemed to want to cover his ass. Sanford didn’t seem to care.
“That’s what I want to know. When and where was the car out of your sight?”
Buford signaled to Ramon to go get him another drink. “What’s the point of all this?” Buford asked me.
“You said it yourself,” I said. “Somebody planted that gun. It had to be when none of your people was with the car. Unless, of course, one of your people planted the gun. We are assuming that neither of them did.” Ramon returned with Buford’s drink. I turned to him and Sanford. “So think, guys, w
here and when?”
Ramon looked at Buford who said, “Don’t worry. You won’t get in trouble. Tell the man what he needs to know.”
Ramon said, “I went to Starbucks when the ladies were shopping.”
“When?”
“One o’clock.”
“For how long?”
“Most of the afternoon. I read a book and drank coffee. The ladies called me on my cell phone when they were ready to leave. I guess this is my fault. I am sorry.”
“Did you do that any other time?”
“That morning too, Señor. I walked around the mall.”
I turned to Sanford. “How about you?” I asked.
“No. I usually take a nap.”
“Could anyone have gotten into the trunk while you were sleeping?”
He shot me a look that said I had asked a stupid question. Buford laughed. First time I ever saw him laugh.
I went back to the office and called Bill Penrod.
“Bill, I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
When Bill said that, he was saying only that you should name it. No promises.
“Can you see if there are surveillance cameras anywhere around Belksdales?”
“I’ll call you back.”
He called back in about five minutes.
“The whole parking lot is covered. The store maintains them.”
“Great. What’s chances of getting a warrant for the tapes the day Vitole was killed?”
“Based on what?”
“New evidence.” I explained about Sproles being in witness protection and my suspicions.
“That’s quite the fishing expedition. I doubt we could get a judge to issue a warrant based on that. Particularly since my boss considers this a closed case and doesn’t like you. And because of privacy laws that shroud public surveillance videos.”
“I figured as much. Thanks.”
I hung up the phone, lit my last cigarette ever and looked at Rodney.
“Did you make that appointment with Overbee?”
“Yes.”
“Did it have a good outcome?”
“Yes.”
“You understand that I don’t know anything about that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go on line, and see if you can find a blank warrant form for evidence in a criminal case.”