Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books!

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  "Kathy recognized one of those boys in the picture as her uncle. I guess that her mother owned one other picture of her brother. She’d shown it to Kathy. She’d also given Kathy an incriminating letter that the uncle had managed to smuggle out to her mother. As you might imagine, a message like that was rare. Most of the boys' correspondence was embargoed, for obvious reasons.”

  “But that’s not much proof of wrongdoing,” said Lou. “Not really.”

  “The photo by itself was not much proof, but as part of a larger pool of information, it was incredibly significant. The other lad in the photo later became a famous baseball player. He killed himself after telling his wife stories of how he'd been sexually abused at Dozier by an important man. He even left behind a suicide note detailing what happened to him. That photo was important because it proved that the Senator was in contact with those two boys specifically—and it validated the story that Kathy's uncle had told his sister in his letter. When you put all the bits and bobs together, well…you had quite a story."

  "With information like that," said Lou, "you could write a potboiler. An exposé. Sell boatloads of books."

  "Except that I couldn't. No way. My contract read that Jenny Beth had to approve everything I wrote about the Senator. Furthermore, the New York publishing house bought the book with certain, shall we say, expectations? They'd signed an agreement with Jenny Beth that she would have final say over the manuscript. It's nearly unheard of, but she managed to charm them somehow. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be." Green gave a rueful smile. “Can you imagine? I stumble over the biggest story of my career, but I can’t write it because I’m too busy making up lies.”

  “So Jenny Beth needed to make sure that photo was destroyed,” said Lou.

  “Jenny Beth also needed to shut Kathy up. She said that Kathy was nothing but poor white trash. A bribe would keep Kathy quiet. All I needed to do was deliver Kathy to her. I couldn’t take a risk on Kathy doing a runner, so I slipped her an Ambien into her cola when she ran back inside Wendy’s. Then I volunteered to drive. I don’t know if you’ve had any experience with Ambien, but one pill can put you under immediately. She fell asleep and I drove us to Hobe Sound, to the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Jenny Beth promised me she’d take it from there. She’d take care of Kathy.”

  “She sure did,” said Lou.

  “Of course I was shocked when I heard that Kathy had died! Horrified! But Jenny Beth assured me it was an accident. To keep Kathy sedated, she’d give her more Ambien and miscalculated the dosage.”

  “Right,” said Lou, trying not to sound as disgusted as he felt. “You’re sure that Mrs. Wentworth knew about her husband’s behavior with those boys?”

  Adrian Green lifted tired eyes to Lou. His rumpled clothes matched his demeanor. "Jenny Beth not only knew, she bragged to me about helping her husband set up his playdates."

  102

  ~Lou~

  5 p.m. on Tuesday

  Stuart Police Department

  While Lou finished up with Adrian Green, Davidson ushered Phillip Coslow into an interview room. Lou had heard rumors that Davidson was great at getting creeps to crack. This was Lou’s chance to see his boss in action.

  “Watch and learn from a master,” Showalter had counseled him.

  Within minutes Lou agreed that Davidson was the best he’d ever seen. Viewing his boss through the one-way glass was like taking an advanced level class in conducting a productive interview.

  At the start, Coslow refused to say a word. However, Davidson was the most patient of inquisitors, building a case the way a bricklayer fashions a wall, one solid block on top of the next. First off, Davidson explained that the blood sample taken from Cara’s store matched Coslow’s, and that the gash in his arm was consistent with the sort that one would suffer breaking a glass window. In response, Coslow shrugged. Next Davidson showed Coslow his hand print, taken from the wall of the bathroom in The Treasure Chest.

  Coslow said slowly, “I want a lawyer.”

  “No problem,” said Davidson.

  Not surprisingly, Coslow’s frantic phone calls to Jenny Beth went unanswered. Davidson offered the man a public defender. Coslow shook his head. “I’ll have the finest representation money can buy as soon as Mrs. Wentworth gets the chance to return my call.”

  “No problem. While you’re waiting, I’ll gather what we have so I can share it with you. Once you see everything, you might change your mind about talking to me. After all, you wouldn’t want to get blamed for something you didn’t do.”

  Then Davidson smiled, got himself a cup of coffee, shot to breeze with Lou, and let Coslow stew. An hour later, Jenny Beth still hadn’t returned phone calls from the man she’d claimed was “like a son to us.”

  Davidson then produced the videos from the Jupiter Island cameras, showing Coslow driving his truck off island, and explained how they matched up with the time stamp on the Winn-Dixie sighting.

  Coslow narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

  “The crime scene lab has collected samples from Kathy Simmons’ body. They found a couple of human hairs on her. I’m confident they’ll match yours. We also have the security cameras from the rest stop up near Gainesville. They’ll show you walking inside shortly before Mrs. Simmons was attacked. We’ve taken booking photos that show you’ve been in a fight.”

  Coslow’s shoulders sagged. However, his haughty demeanor stayed intact.

  “Putting all these pieces together isn’t my job,” admitted Davidson, leaning back in his chair. His manner was relaxed. The goal was to appear in control, like he held all the cards. In one way, he did. The problem would be finding a way to link all this to Jenny Beth Wentworth.

  “But a jury will probably look at all this and be persuaded that you murdered Kathy Simmons,” said Davidson.

  “No way!” Coslow bellowed as he shot out of his chair.

  Davidson didn’t flinch. He said in an even tone, “Sit down, please.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone!” yelled Coslow.

  “That’s probably true,” said Davidson, shaking his head sadly. “But you’ve been set up to take the fall, haven’t you?”

  103

  ~Lou~

  Once he got started, Coslow had a lot to say.

  Jenny Beth had, indeed, been worried about her husband’s advancing dementia.

  "That was the catalyst for all this," said Davidson, leaning back in his office chair and staring at the ceiling. "Jenny Beth wanted him to go out a hero. She loved the privileges that came with being Senator Josiah Wentworth's wife. After all, she'd made a bargain with the devil. No kids. No normal sex life. All given up in exchange for the glamorous life as the wife of a Congressman."

  "But she couldn't count on him keeping his mouth shut about his past," said Lou, picking up the narrative thread. Both men were exhausted, but pleased with how much progress they’d made. "As the disease took over more and more of his cognitive abilities, his mind wandered. He became stuck in the past. On some level, he knew that what he'd done was wrong. However, he also missed his old life as a pedophile. On occasion, he'd talk about 'the boys,’ meaning his victims."

  Davidson nodded. “Coslow told me that Josiah had become addicted to watching kiddy porn on his computer. That matches up with what LaTisha told us. Jenny Beth walked in and discovered her husband. She realized he could ruin everything. Especially if he got caught in a sting operation. That’s the quarrel that LaTisha overheard, the Wentworths fighting about what the Senator was looking at online."

  “Right,” said Lou, flipping to a page in his notebook. “I called LaTisha. She verified that it was kiddy porn. He’d started wandering off and leaving the websites open.”

  "We saw proof that Jenny Beth actively removed that temptation.” Davidson straightened in his chair and stared at Lou. “Remember? The desktop in his office had been switched out for a laptop. Coslow told me she had him destroy the big computer. The new, smaller computer came with NetNanny installed. That’
s a program that blocks unwanted browsing.”

  "But that wasn’t the only reason that Jenny Beth wanted her husband dead. They had money problems. They’d burned through most of their savings,” said Lou, recapping what they’d learned. “I got a hold of Ollie at home. He was well enough to check on the Wentworths’ finances. They lost a bunch in the downturn of the economy. First they sold their house up north. Then they canceled their membership in the club on Jupiter Island. All Jenny Beth had left was her husband’s reputation.”

  “And she was about to lose that,” said Davidson.

  “So she had an idea," said Lou. "She found a New York publisher willing to pay a hefty advance for the Senator's biography. A book that would solidify his legacy, and by extension, her spot as ‘the woman behind the great man’. Of course, she would have to be in charge of how it was written and what it said. So she found Adrian Green and worked a deal with him. The publisher went along with her plan. The contract was written. The pub date was set. The setup was ideal because Green is basically lazy. He relied solely on Jenny Beth's guidance and didn’t do any real investigative activity on his own. He swallowed whatever she told him whole hog.”

  “But then Kathy Simmons comes on the scene,” said Davidson. “She’s been looking for information that can verify a horrifying story she’s heard about her uncle Wallace. Her mother had shared her suspicions, and Kathy knows that survivors have started talking about the abuse they suffered there. The timing couldn’t have been more auspicious. They’ve opened the graves in Dozier, so she knows she’s on the right trail. Kathy takes a job at the Shoreline News so she can snoop around and see what Adrian Green has discovered about the Senator. She does her research, keeps her eyes open, and then at Cara’s media event, Kathy stumbles over a photo that links all the key players.”

  “But why did Kathy tell Adrian what she’d found?” asked Lou.

  “The biggest reason was her pride,” said Davidson. “He was constantly putting her down. Now she’s got a way to prove that she wasn’t a lightweight. Make him eat crow. In fact, she had come into possession of a photo that could expose his big, important book as a sham. Why not tell him? Why not rub it in his face?”

  Lou nodded. “That was all she had. Her professional pride and her aspirations. Adrian freaks out. He has no idea how to handle this—and she refuses to let him see the photo. So he suggests, ‘Let’s go show it to the Senator and his wife.’ He’s hoping Kathy will like the idea of a big confrontation. And then being the creep he is, he calls Jenny Beth to warn her. Jenny Beth tells him to bring Kathy to her. Maybe Jenny even suggests that she’ll pay Kathy off. But Adrian is worried that Kathy will bolt on him. He decides to slip her an Ambien. The problem is how to give it to her? He suggests they stop by Wendy’s. That way he can slip it in her drink. Meanwhile, Kathy has realized that it’s too risky to have the photo on her person. She runs inside the restaurant and hands it off to Darcy. While she’s out of the car, Adrian puts the Ambien in Kathy’s cola. When she gets back to her car, he’s swapped seats, explaining that he knows the way to the Wentworths’ house.”

  “On the way there,” said Davidson, “Kathy falls asleep. When they get to the Winn-Dixie, Jenny Beth and Coslow are waiting behind the plaza, where no one can see Coslow’s vehicle. Coslow is a strong guy. He easily transferred Kathy from her car into his truck while Jenny Beth calms Adrian down. She tells Adrian to go inside and buy a pack of cigarettes so he can establish an alibi. When he comes out, she’s put on Kathy’s coat and scarf.”

  “Phillip takes Kathy back to the Wentworths’ house. Jenny Beth drops off Adrian and then pretends to be Kathy,” Lou said, “by laying a false trail. She’s messing with the timeline, and she’s buying herself enough time to decide what to do.”

  Davidson sighed. “Jenny Beth didn’t kill Kathy outright, because she hoped to find out where she stashed the photo. She knows that picture could become a problem. But she can’t afford to have Kathy wandering around, so she decides to keep the girl drugged and in the trunk of her car. That gives Phillip time to break in to Kathy and Darcy’s apartment and search for the photo. No luck. Then Jenny Beth starts worrying that there are more photos back at The Treasure Chest. She sits in the getaway car while Phillip breaks into the store.”

  “Where is the Toyota all this time?” wondered Lou.

  “Probably in the Wentworths’ garage. It could easily hold two cars. LaTisha had no reason to be poking around in there,” said Davidson.

  “Unbelievable,” said Lou, “If we hadn’t had that spell of cool, rainy weather, Kathy would have died immediately of heat exhaustion.”

  “Not that Jenny Beth cared,” said Davidson.

  “Right,” agreed Lou. “In the end, Jenny Beth comes to the conclusion that if she kills Kathy, there’s a good chance no one will identify Wallace Eberly. After all, it had been a fluke that Kathy had seen the photo and recognized her uncle.”

  “In fact, Jenny Beth can explain away the photo, as long as there no other information comes to light. Info linking Wallace Eberly, PeeWee Heckler, and the Senator,” said Davidson.

  “But Jenny Beth is worried because her husband keeps slipping into the past and asking about ‘the boys,’” said Lou.

  “She’s been dosing him with antifreeze,” said Davidson “by putting it in his iced tea. Can you imagine—his alcoholism was actually keeping him alive! After a while, Jenny Beth figured out what was happening. That’s when she threw out his booze and began poisoning him in earnest.”

  Lou nodded. “The timing worked for her. Adrian Green’s book was finished. By killing her husband shortly before the publication date, Jenny Beth could take advantage of his death and use the attention to promote the upcoming biography.”

  Davidson took a deep breath and tapped his pencil on his desk. “Diabolical, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Lou smiled. “But she’s not going to get away with it.”

  “Oh, but she might,” said Davidson, “if we don’t find the murder weapon.”

  104

  ~Cara~

  8 a.m. on Wednesday

  The Treasure Chest

  "I came bearing gifts. How's your face feeling?" asked Davidson, as he took a seat across from me at the card table and pushed a large bakery box my way. "There are a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts in there. I didn't know your favorite flavor, so I asked for an assortment."

  "I don't have a favorite," I said.

  His smile faded.

  "I don’t have a favorite because I have never met a Krispy Kreme that I didn't like,” I said.

  We both laughed, and that hurt. My face pained me more today than it had yesterday. Delayed muscle soreness is the accurate term, or so I’ve been told. But even as my forehead aches, and a pain shot through my busted lip, I felt happy. It had been nice to wake up to Davidson knocking on the front door. Even if he hadn’t been carrying a box of donuts, I would have been happy to see him.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “I hate it when women talk endlessly about their weight. Sure, it’s important to stay fit, but life is meant to be enjoyed.”

  “You can say that again.” I was having trouble deciding which donut to eat first. Finally, I plucked up a cake donut that smelled enticingly of cinnamon and pumpkin.

  “A woman with good taste,” said Davidson, as he grabbed the twin to mine. He had little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and when he grinned, his entire face shifted upwards with joy. I liked that about him. Liked it a lot.

  "Yum," I said, as I got up and poured myself a big glass of water.

  “No coffee?” he asked, grinning at me.

  “I’ll put on a pot, after I take two Advils for the pain. My face really, really hurts.”

  "You might want to avoid smiling. That creep Adrian Green really hit you hard, didn't he? Let's get some ice on that," said Davidson, rummaging around in my cabinets until he found two zip top baggies. These he filled with ice and water before wrapping them gently with a thick pap
er towel. I gratefully held them to my face.

  “Yes, he did smack me hard. There’s something about being hit in the face that’s particularly demoralizing, isn’t there?”

  "You are right,” he said, in a husky voice. “A blow to the face seems to strike at who we are, doesn’t it? Believe me, Mr. Green will regret what he did. Toward that end, Cara, I need your help. If you were going to get rid of a plastic bag, like the kind groceries come in, how would you do it? I mean, other than dump it in the trash?"

  "Hmm," I said.

  "I know it's a weird question, but could you indulge me?”

  “Sure,” I said, as I spooned Kaldi’s coffee into my cafetiere. Kaldi’s is a chain in St. Louis, one that sells especially fab coffee beans. I keep this stash of mine separate from our regular grind.

  “Please keep what I’m going to tell you in confidence,” said Davidson, as he tipped back in his chair. The pose worried me, but he looked perfectly comfortable. “I need your help. Again. Actually, you’re doing such a good job for us that I may have to deputize you and your staff.”

  “Um, that might be awkward,” I said. “Given my arrest for attempted murder and Skye’s jail record.”

  “Right. There’s also the little mess that MJ was involved in.”

  There was? I knew nothing about that. Luckily my face hurt so much that I couldn’t show my surprise. I opened my mouth to ask for details but Davidson was already moving ahead. “Kathy Simmons was suffocated with a plastic bag. You know everything there is to know about recycling. Where might someone hide the plastic bag? Assuming that they didn’t throw it in the trash? Especially if the person was a big proponent of recycling?”

  This idea was so ghoulish that I had trouble thinking it through. Finally, I asked, “That’s really how she died?”