by Elaine Viets
Katie snorted. ‘Any rookie detective could see through that explanation. It takes considerable pressure to strangle a strong young man, and Craig’s neck was broken. The detective who caught the case believed that Wendell had died during sex, and this was a case of erotic asphyxiation.’
‘In other words, this Briggs dude gets off on strangling people during sex,’ Jace said. ‘Just like he did to that young woman, Terri Gibbons.’
‘We think that’s how Terri was killed,’ Katie said. ‘We don’t know for sure.’
‘If Briggs killed another rich kid, why didn’t the dead boy’s family go after him?’ Jace asked.
‘Because both families wanted to hush up the scandal,’ Katie said, ‘and neither wanted their sons to be labeled gay.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Jace said. ‘This was like, what – 2005? Kids experiment all the time with sex. Does anyone even care if their kid’s gay any more?’
‘They do in the Forest,’ Katie said. ‘Even in 2005. Don’t you have a son? What if you found out he was gay?’
‘Joey’s only seven and currently has a crush on Olivia, a little blonde in his class. But if he comes out as gay later, he’s still my son, no matter what. His mother and I will do our best to make sure he’s happy.’
I shook my head. ‘That attitude will never do, Jace. In the Forest, children are supposed to make their parents look good, take over the family business, marry a suitable spouse and produce an heir. Parents here do everything they can to cover up what they consider “deviant behavior.” They will marry off a lesbian daughter or gay son to a willing partner. The chosen husband or wife gets big bucks for the wedding, and once they produce an heir, they’re even richer. Everyone turns a blind eye if they step out. Some of these marriages of convenience work very well.’
Jace shook his head. ‘This place is a whole ’nother world.’
‘Amen to that,’ Katie said. ‘It’s also a whole ’nother century. The Forest is trapped in the nineteenth century. When Craig Wendell died, his family was embarrassed that he might have had a gay fling with Briggs, and helped cover up his cause of death. He’d broken the code: Forest sons are expected to carry on the family name, not have affairs with other men.’
‘Jeez,’ Jace said. I tossed my coffee cup in the trash. It was cold as well as bitter.
‘And good old Evarts Evans, the ever-cooperative Chouteau Forest chief medical examiner, declared that Craig’s death was an accidental strangling,’ Katie said. ‘His report made no mention of erotic asphyxiation or the semen he found in the dead boy’s anus.’
‘How do you know this?’ Jace asked.
‘I knew the assistant ME back then,’ she said. ‘He listened to Evarts rationalize what he did. Evarts decreed that it was better “for the sake of the grieving family” to hide the true cause of death. The detective in charge of the case agreed. They both patted themselves on the back for their kindness. The assistant ME had no say in the matter.’
‘Poor Craig was quickly buried, along with the scandal,’ I said. ‘The family didn’t even want a memorial plaque at his high school. The embarrassing story never made the media. Briggs was sent off to boarding school in England. That’s about the time Calmatay was released, and hailed as the savior of the human race.’
‘At least the nervous ones,’ Katie said.
‘Briggs did well in Britain,’ I said, ‘and graduated from the London School of Economics. He came back home to become CEO of his parents’ chemical company, and he’s good at his job. He’s a favorite extra man at fundraisers and parties and a fixture on the charity circuit. He’s often seen with the beautiful model, Desiree Gale, but since there’s no diamond on her finger, the Forest matchmakers still have hopes that some local woman will snag him.’
‘And that’s the man you’re trying to bring down,’ Katie said.
‘Good luck,’ I said. ‘You’ll need it.’
Jace looked angry. ‘If Briggs killed those poor young women and left them to rot in the woods, I’ll make sure he goes to jail – I don’t care how connected he is. He stole Terri Gibbons’s brilliant future, and broke her mother’s heart.’
I flashed back to our visit when we broke the news to her mother, and the way the light died in that woman’s eyes.
‘You know this Briggs person, Angela?’ Jace said.
‘I wouldn’t say—’
He interrupted my protest with, ‘At least you’ve been to dinner at his house. Would you come with me when I talk to him? It will seem friendlier. He may drop his guard and let something slip.’
‘Sure. I have to work tomorrow, but I’ll be glad to go with you.’
‘I guess I should ask what happened to the detective who caught the case?’ Jace said. ‘Did they fire him? Might as well know what they’ll do to me.’
‘Nothing so crude,’ Katie said. ‘He took early retirement. Bought a house in Sarasota.’
‘I don’t want any house in Florida,’ Jace said. ‘It’s too damn hot there. Besides, what’s the worst he can do to me? I’ve walked a beat in a Chicago winter.’
‘Just make sure you don’t end up like his friend, Craig,’ Katie said. ‘Six feet under.’
SIX
When Katie finished, I tried to slip out of her office with Jace, but my friend called me back. I reluctantly returned for what I knew would be another lecture.
‘So, about your date tonight,’ she said.
‘It’s dinner,’ I said. ‘That’s all.’
‘You know Chris is seeing that cute little nurse in the ER, the one with the pixie haircut.’
‘So? He’s free to see whoever he wants.’
‘You need to stake your claim,’ she said.
I tried to tamp down my anger. ‘Stake a claim? What is he, a gold mine? You’re my best friend, Katie, but you have no business interfering in my love life.’
‘There’s nothing to interfere with,’ Katie said. ‘Since Donegan died two years ago, you’ve locked yourself away. You’re too young.’
‘I’m forty-one,’ I said, ‘and I’ll live my life the way I want. Take care of your own love life. Everything OK with you and Monty?’
Hah. I could see by her stricken face that I’d hit a nerve.
‘What’s wrong? Does he want some space?’
‘Worse,’ she said, her voice flat. ‘He wants to get married.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘Why not? Is there someone else?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Is there anything about him that you don’t like?’
‘He drops his socks on the floor instead of putting them in the clothes basket.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. It’s really annoying.’
‘You’ve snagged the most eligible bachelor in the Forest. He’s at your house – or you’re at his – six nights a week. Might as well tie the knot.’
‘And then what? He dies and I turn into the walking dead, like—’
‘Like me,’ I interrupted. ‘You’re afraid, Katie Kelly Stern. Well, I’ll tell you this. Donegan’s death may have knocked me for a loop, but every minute I had with him was worth it. Worth it!’
I escaped out her door, heart pounding, blood electric with anger. The nerve of Katie, telling me how I should live my life! I settled into my car, took a couple of deep breaths, then checked my cell phone. One message from Jace: ‘Got the warrant. I’ll stop by your house at eight a.m. tomorrow to brief you.’ Good. I was looking forward to a showdown.
It was after two o’clock. Time to get ready for my date, I mean, dinner with Chris. I saw my hair in the rearview mirror. I looked like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. I called Mario’s salon, Killer Cuts, and he agreed to fit me in at three-thirty.
While Mario fussed over my hair, he plied me with shots of Cuban coffee and guava pastries made by his latest boyfriend, Carlos. Where that man managed to get tropical fruit in the middle of Missouri was beyond me, but
I hoped Carlos was a keeper.
The three Cuban coffees – thimbles of the thick, sweet beverage – were like rocket fuel, and I rattled on. When Mario found out I was going out to dinner tonight, he did my make-up, too, then made me promise to wear my little black dress and high heels. It cost him another guava pastry, but I finally agreed.
I heard Chris’s red Mustang pull into my drive at 6:59 p.m., and he was knocking on my door at 7 p.m.
‘You look amazing,’ he said when I answered the door.
‘You look good, too,’ I said. He looked better than good. Chris was about my age. He worked out, and his navy sport coat and blue shirt didn’t hide his narrow waist and big shoulders. He smelled good, too – Old Spice and coffee.
‘Want to come in for a drink?’ I asked.
‘Later,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to be late for our reservation. Is dinner at Solange OK?’ I liked his boyish uncertainty.
‘Perfect,’ I said. Classy, I thought, and expensive for a cop.
His car gleamed and I wondered if he’d shined it up for our dinner.
SEVEN
I went to bed with two men that night, one dead and one alive. Chris’s warm, real kiss still burned on my lips, and I wrestled with the memory of my dead husband’s kisses. The night seemed endless. I watched my bedside clock tick off one o’clock, then two and three and four, thinking about both men. I finally fell asleep about five in the morning, and woke up at 7:42 a.m.
I had eighteen minutes to dress before Detective Jace Budewitz showed up for our strategy meeting to bring down Terri’s killer. I washed my face, trying to ignore my puffy, red-rimmed eyes, then ran a brush through my hair, threw on my black DI pantsuit and ran downstairs to plug in the coffee maker and defrost a cinnamon pound cake.
Jace arrived promptly at eight, just as I was putting plates and mugs on my kitchen table. The homicide detective was one of those annoyingly cheerful morning people, but I forgave him.
He breezed into my home with a sunny smile and his news. ‘I got a warrant from Judge Ludlow, but it was touch and go. I had to work hard to convince him that we would find something. Kitchen smells nice. Is that pound cake?’
I cut him a thick piece and poured his coffee, then left the thermal pot on the table.
‘When we get there, I’m going to ask the suspect questions quite politely and hope he denies ever knowing the girl or denies she was anywhere near his property. That will make things a little tighter when we find something that proves she was there. I want to give this suspect enough rope to hang himself with his denials. Then I’ll flip the warrant out after the polite conversation ends.
‘The warrant says we can search Briggs’s house’ – he reached into his pocket and opened an official-looking document and started reading – ‘“and anywhere or anything thereon at number two Olympia Circle, where there might be stored, to include, but not limited to, the entirety of the house and any outbuildings, vehicles, sheds, storage containers located at the location sought to be searched.”’
‘Holy cow. I hope you’re bringing a lot of folks for the search. Briggs has a huge estate.’
‘We can do it,’ he said. ‘He’s just another rich guy.’
Briggs wasn’t, but Jace would have to find that out himself. ‘Do you think we can find something?’ I took a small sip of my hot black coffee.
‘We better.’ Jace gulped down half his mug and poured himself more. ‘Ludlow didn’t let me forget that Briggs is a big deal in this town.’
‘He is,’ I said.
‘In fact, the judge said he’d had dinner at his house several times. May I have more of that pound cake?’
‘Help yourself. Does Briggs know we’re coming?’
‘Oh, yeah. I had to go through six secretaries and assistants to talk to him. His office manager is a dragon.’ Jace cut a slice that was nearly one-third of the pound cake and slathered it with butter.
‘Bernice?’ I laughed. ‘That’s her job. She’s one tough lady. How did Briggs react when you called and said you had a search warrant?’
‘I didn’t tell him. Not yet, anyway. I just said I wanted to talk with him.’
‘What are you looking for?’
‘I’m hoping Terri left her jewelry stuffed under the basement sink, or in the toilet tank or something.’
‘Was Terri wearing a class ring? She’s the right age,’ I said.
‘No, that was in her jewelry box. Her mother said she always wore a gold necklace, a gift from her grandmother, a birth stone necklace with a purple stone. An amethyst. Her birthday is in February. Was.’
We had a moment of sad silence for the promising young woman who would have no more birthdays.
‘If Terri was locked up but not tied up,’ Jace said, ‘she could have hidden her cell phone under a loose board. That was never found.’
‘If she had a cell phone, Jace, she could have called 911.’
‘Right. I need more coffee.’ He poured yet another cup. ‘She could have scrawled a message somewhere using her blood or bar soap. I’m hoping she did that.’
‘We already have that message she wrote and slipped into her shoe,’ I said. ‘Katie says it was written on the inside of a gum wrapper. She says it was clove gum – Beeman’s brand. That’s pretty unusual.’
‘Not really. You can buy Beeman’s clove gum on Amazon. But we should be on the lookout for any gum chewers. If we can’t find a message, then the warrant says we can look for hair – she may have left hair behind as a clue.’
‘If she was smart enough to leave us a message in her shoe, that’s a possibility,’ I said. Jace finished his cake and helped himself to another giant slice, lavishly buttered. I poured myself more coffee, still hoping to wake up.
‘There’s also DNA and fingerprints, as well as evidence relating to the cause of death.’ Jace used his fork to illustrate each point.
‘Katie believes she was strangled with common garden string,’ I said.
‘Right, but maybe we can find the roll he used in a garden shed. The search warrant covers everything from his house to all the outbuildings.’ Jace helped himself to the last of the cake.
‘What’s my role? I’ve only had dinner once at his house,’ I said. ‘I’m hardly a family friend.’
‘But you know him,’ Jace said. ‘You’re not one of those people, but you can talk to them. That’s why I need you along. You can make small talk with him. He can tell you about his prize hollyhocks.’
‘Nasturtiums,’ I said. The word sounded odd, like something that belonged in an English drawing room comedy.
‘Whatever. Talk to him about his flowers. And he likes fancy food. I’m a meat and potatoes man. Get him to relax. That’s a good way for him to let something slip.’
I didn’t think it was going to be that easy. There were three people buried in the woods, and two of their bodies were skeletonized. That meant Briggs had been getting away with this for years. Socially, he was sophisticated, smooth and polished. He had money and power on his side. We wanted to accuse him of murdering three women. We wanted to destroy this clever man with his own words.
‘I hate to bust your bubble, Jace, but what if the cops searching his place come up empty-handed?’
Jace looked surprised. ‘Then … uh, hm … I’ll continue interviewing the victim’s friends, reexamine her cell phone bills, see if I can get anything from that.’
In other words, Jace had no plan if this didn’t work. He was betting all his meager political capital on this move.
He checked the time on his cell phone. ‘Shall we saddle up and ride?’
Jace stood up, abandoning the rest of his cake. I took a last slurp of coffee, and we set off on our quest.
EIGHT
‘Wow! Is that a house or a federal courthouse?’ Jace said.
‘It’s quite a house, even by Forest standards,’ I said. ‘You really can’t see it from the road. It’s tucked away behind a couple of acres of woods.’
‘Looks like
Tara on steroids,’ Jace said. ‘You know, that movie, Gone With the Wind?’
I shifted uneasily in the passenger seat of his car. Jace was overawed. Despite my warnings – and the judge’s – Jace was only now beginning to appreciate the Bellerive family’s power and money. He was driving slower than usual, taking in the sights: the spring green trees parted to reveal smooth velvety grass crowned by the gleaming white showplace. The mansion was a white neoclassical house with four massive Corinthian columns.
‘I bet Briggs’s mother, the judge, felt right at home here,’ I said. ‘You almost expect to have “Equal Justice Under the Law” carved on the pediment.’
‘The what?’
‘That triangular thing above the four columns,’ I said. I wished he’d snap out of this and be his usual street-smart Chicago self.
The marble steps leading to the double front door were wide enough for a platoon of lawyers. Clay pots the size of kettledrums lined the steps, rioting with colorful flowers. Nasturtiums, I assumed.
It had taken us nearly ten minutes to get this far. There was a long delay at the wrought-iron gate while the beige-uniformed guard called the house. He was no retiree, either. Bellerive’s crewcut guard was young and fit and looked to be ex-military. Security here was serious.
Finally, the guard waved us through the gates. Jace drove up the long, curving drive at a crawl, and we parked alongside the house next to a six-car garage.
An anonymous twenty-something brunette in a plain charcoal suit and white blouse met us and took us to the side entrance. ‘I’m Emily,’ she said. ‘One of Mr Bellerive’s assistants. I’ll take you to him. He’s in the library.’
We went in through the kitchen, which I was relieved to see was clean but outdated, then down a dark hall with a cheap brown runner and beige walls. This was definitely the servants’ entrance, but at least it brought Jace to his senses by the time Emily opened the double doors to the library.
What a room. It must have been forty feet long with twelve-foot ceilings. Three walls were lined from floor to ceiling with cherrywood bookcases. I inhaled the perfume of old books, leather, and lemon polish. A long library table was piled with books and magazines, as well as a crystal bowl of salmon-pink nasturtiums.