Death at Lampier

by Alex Harris

  Chapter 21

  Fred and Oriole arrived at the office and took out their notes on the case. Each processed what they had for the other. “Betty Cline said Lisa was going to have lunch with Phil. Phil said he was having lunch with the boys. In fact, the foursome said he showed up about 1:30. We need to check that out.” Oriole read from her notes.

  “What about the Ativan? Have we found anything on that? And what about that damn check? How did she get to work that morning without her car? What about that letter ‘To Whom It May Concern? Why did she write that? Have we talked to the kids?” Fred read through his notes and came up with more questions.

  “Let’s divide and conquer. You go back to see Phil ‘cause you have developed such good rapport with him. I’ll call the doctor and get some information from the bottle I got from Betty. I’ll follow up on Mug Shot Jenny and Gelatinous Mama. You call the kids. Let’s meet for lunch about 1:00 at say Lone Spur, I’m dying for a Chicken Salad and it is so huge I can’t eat it by myself so you can have half.” Oriole gathered up her paperwork grabbed the keys to a unit and left Fred sitting at the desk with his mouth open.

  Fred shook his head in dismay. Oriole had usurped his position again and it happened faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.

  Fred drove over to the condo not wanting to let Phil know he was coming for more information. He did a slow crawl through the complex checking to see if Phil’s garage door was open and looking at Frances’ place. He parked in front of Phil’s place, got out and walked up the sidewalk to the small front courtyard. The place looked only half lived in. It had taken on the appearance of Lisa’s death.

  “Hi, Mr. Mason. Mind if I come in? I have some more questions.” Fred made a valiant attempt at being congenial.

  “Well, I was just leaving. Could this wait?” It was apparent Phil didn’t want to talk to the detective.

  “It’ll only take a moment.” Fred responded as he pushed his way through the open door. “I had a question about how your late wife got to work the morning she died.”

  “Why she must have driven the Toyota. I think I had the Mercedes so I could go golfing. Is that all? I really do need to go.”

  Fred closed the door behind him and moved into the foyer. “Well, see that is one of my problems. Betty over at American Mortgage says she can’t remember seeing it in the parking lot when she got there. So she’s not sure how Lisa got to work. Is there anywhere else she ever parks her car when she goes to work?” Fred was boxing Phil in a corner with the requested answers.

  “How would I know?” Phil was turning surly with his responses.

  “What about lunch that day? Do you know if she had any plans?”

  “Originally, we were going to have lunch, but I had the golf game so we canceled.” Phil was trying to think one step ahead of the detective’s questions assuming he had some information about the calendar Lisa kept.

  “When did you cancel the lunch appointment?”

  “What? Well, I guess when she left that morning. I don’t remember. Are we done here, I need to go.” Phil was definitely getting agitated.

  “We’re done when I get the answers I need. We can do this here or at the office. Which would you prefer?” Fred’s demeanor hadn’t changed with the ramped up dialog.

  “I’m sorry officer, I mean detective. I’m still reeling from the devastation. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Phil turned on the charm hoping to quell the detective’s concerns.

  “So you think she drove her car that morning. When was the last time she had the car serviced, if you know?” Fred was hoping to be able to track the mileage back to some definite date.

  “It should be on the door of the car. She only used that car for work. Anywhere we went together, we used the Mercedes. It is more comfortable.” Phil was trying hard not to piss off the detective. “What else can I provide for you?”

  “Did your wife take any medications?” Fred’s questions were designed to make Phil take a stand and then work from there.

  “I don’t know. You took everything from the medicine cabinet. Were there prescriptions in there? You see my wife and I slept in separate bedrooms and each bedroom had its own bath.”

  “When did this begin?”

  “Oh, maybe five years ago. I snore and it disturbed her. I volunteered to move to the spare bedroom.” Phil gushed with the information.

  “Mr. Mason, when did you find out Lisa was going to divorce you?” Fred dropped his bomb and watched it explode.

  “Ah, ah, what?” Phil stammered. “What are you insinuating?”

  “Your late wife intended to divorce you. When did you find out?” Fred kept pushing for a definitive answer.

  “I found out the night before she died.” Phil’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I was devastated. I loved her so much. I tried to reason with her. I just can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “And when did you find out she had changed her will?” Fred wasn’t letting any water run under his bridge.

  “That same night. She said she was considering it. I gave her the best years she had and she was going to throw me over. I’d be homeless.” Phil was almost in tears, not for his long lost wife, but for his own predicament.

  “Why did you lie to us when we asked you this before?” Fred’s patience was worn thin.

  “I was confused and scared. I just didn’t know what to do.” Phil hunched over on the couch trying to gather his composure.

  “Let’s go back and see if I can get some truthful answers from you. I’m going to Mirandize you.”

  “Am I a suspect in this?” Phil sat up straight.

  “You have been acting suspicious. Miranda warnings are a precaution. Would you like to do this here or down at the office?” Fred pulled his card out of his wallet and read the warning.

  “I think I want to talk to an attorney.” Phil sputtered.

  “Fine. Get your attorney on board and have him or her call me.” Fred left a business card and returned to his car. “Oriole,” he said as he reached her on her cell phone, “he lawyered up. What have you found out so far?”

  “Why lawyer up if he doesn’t have something to hide?” Oriole asked.

  “Ask your mother, she’s the criminal expert here. I’m just the cop on the beat.”

  “The doctor’s office prescribed Ativan for her for depression. She’s been on a very low dose for about two years. The prescription was last filled the first of May with 90 pills. The directions are to take one pill three times a day. She also had a liquid prescription filled at the same time. The liquid was for easier administration. The bottle at the office held 20 pills. Did you see the liquid prescription? I didn’t when I went through her bathroom upstairs. I talked to the probation officer on Mug Shot Jenny. No word on where she disappeared to. Let’s get lunch and then drive out to see Mama.”

  The Lone Spur Restaurant sits on Gurley Street right across the plaza from the courthouse. The western motif sports someone’s left over boots, saddles, lariats, and lots of original paintings of western themes. But the food is what really draws people. Fred allowed Oriole to order her chicken salad and an extra plate for him. They quietly planned the remainder of their tasks.

  When they left the restaurant, they had a game plan for the rest of the day which included Mama and Mug Shot Jenny follow up, a telephone call to Gerri and Bobby and brainstorming the lost check.

  Having been once to the run down trailer, they were better prepared as they arrived in Chino Valley to take on Flint Tent and Awning. Oriole took charge of the shotgun, Fred had pepper spray plus the taser and they had the backup of a road deputy.

  “Hello the house. Mrs. Hattie, Sheriff’s Office. Please come out so we can talk.” Fred used the loud speaker on the squad car to notify her they were there.

  The screen door opened and a clean muumuu walked out. “What the hell you want now? I still haven’t seen or heard from Jenny. Go away and leave me in peace.”

  “Good afternoon. Did Jenny call
? We have reason to believe her cell phone was used to contact this residence.” Oriole was bluffing but delivered the bluff straight faced.

  “Are you tapping my phone?” As she spoke, multiple chins bounced and jiggled.

  “Where was she when she called you?” Gelatinous Mama’s answer prompted Fred with a more assertive inquiry.

  “She wouldn’t tell me where she was only that she was okay. It’s your fault she’s on the run. She lost her job because you harassed her. Now you’re harassing me.” She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. Her bunny slippers were replaced by open toed sandals showing crusty dirt and cracked heels.

  “When she calls again, you tell her this is her only chance to avoid new charges. She calls me right away or I tell the county attorney everything I know about her escape and she goes down for hard time.” Fred put the pressure on mama. “Here’s my card. Have her call me.” Fred, Oriole and the deputy drove down the alley to the main road and reconnoitered.

  “Man, it would be a dark night at the well before she'd get a drink.” The deputy offered as assessment of Jenny’s woeful mama.

  “Will you patrol here semi regularly. Jenny’s car and license are listed on this mug shot. So you can identify her and her car. If you get anything call dispatch to call us. Really appreciate your help.” Fred smiled at the sense of humor the deputy displayed.

  As Oriole and Fred left the area, Oriole called Gerri on her cell phone. “Ms. Martin? My name is Detective Wolfe with Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office. I’m investigating your mother’s death. First of all, my condolences.”

  “Thank you. It has been such a shock. I know you must have questions. Go ahead.” Gerri Martin came across as cool, calm, and collected, a refreshing quality for Oriole to deal with.

  “What do you know about your mother’s plans to divorce your stepfather?”

  “First of all he is Phil Mason, not my stepfather. Second of all Mom told Bobby and me on Mother’s day she planned to make some drastic changes, but wasn’t specific. I assumed she meant divorce. Phil is a freeloader. When she came out to visit, she told Bobby and me she had told him he was done.” Gerri drew in a breath.

  “Wait a minute, you mean she told him back in May?” Oriole was writing in her notebook and hit the speaker button on the cell phone so Fred could hear.

  “That’s what she told us. She would have had no reason to lie to us. No more credit cards. No more checking account. And no more money from Mom. Now if he had been the one died, you’d want to look at me or Bobby for answers.” It was more than plain that Gerri didn’t like the man who mooched off her mother.

  “Do you think he was stealing from her?”

  “Well of course he was. Every time he took her credit cards or cashed a check he said it was groceries. That’s stealing as plain as the nose on your face. What’s more, he probably cashed in stocks and bonds, ‘cause Mom said there were some missing from the account. She said she was sticking everything in the safety deposit box. When she was here Mother’s day she gave me the key. She also said she was changing her will.”

  “Did she say when she was doing that and what she was changing it to?” Fred interposed as he drove.

  “She said she was doing the will right away, but not what it was changing to include. But I bet she disinherited the swine.” Gerri’s voice carried animosity for Phil and what he’d done to her mother.

  “Do you know anything about a check for $25,000.00?” Oriole asked.

  “No. What is it?”

  “We can’t find it. Is there somewhere she would put it so no one could get to it?” Fred leaned over to the cell phone and spoke.

  “Let me think on that. You never know with Mom.”

  “There was a letter she wrote. Did she tell you about that?”

  “No. What was in the letter?”

  “It’ll be part of her estate and when the estate goes to probate you’ll get a copy. What about Bobby? Would he know anything else?” Fred wanted to get as much as possible before Gerri was gone.

  “Bobby wasn’t as close, so I doubt he’d know anything, but call him. You never know, Mom might have confided in him too. What else can I tell you? I gotta pick my kids up at school.” Gerri was moving on.

  “That’s it for now. Thank you. We’ll be in touch and I will call Bobby.” Oriole hung up the call.

  “Well, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Philly boy is a liar and a cheat. Let’s compile what we have, where he’s lied, get him and his attorney down for a chat. Would you call dispatch and see if there’s any word on Mug Shot Jenny?”