Just the Facts, Volume 1

by Edward Kendrick

  What happened to you, Mr. Wright, between the time you went off to college and your return here, when, presumably, you found out your mother was dying? Probably nothing more than what happens to any young man. You began living your life. Still…

  Reid wasn’t certain why, after only a few brief words with Michael, he was interested in his background. Because, as he’d thought earlier, he found that most people liked seeing their name in the newspaper? Michael had definitely shied away from that, which intrigued Reid.

  Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? Probably. Still, I’m going to do some more digging. But not tonight, he decided when he checked the time. After turning off the computer, he left the building and headed home.

  Chapter 2

  Three days went by after the discovery of Ms. Lee’s body. Whatever the manager had done to her condo seemed to have worked because the smell of decomposing body had faded from the hallway.

  Michael followed the story of her murder on TV and in The Chronicle, noting Reid Hanson’s byline on the newspaper articles about it.

  When he told Carolyn what had happened, she was all agog, wanting to know every detail. Since he knew next to nothing, personally, she was reduced to reading the same stories he had in the paper.

  Business was late-summer slow, but there were still enough customers that Michael didn’t lack for something to do, between helping them and planning for the upcoming Halloween season.

  Friday rolled around, with one more day of work after that before he and Carolyn were off, as the shop was closed on Sundays and Mondays. It was busier than Michael expected. One of the city’s elite was holding a costume party to celebrate his wife’s fortieth birthday. Of course, many of the guests had waited until the last minute before coming in to find the right dress or suit for what was billed as a Forties Bash.

  With Carolyn’s able assistance, Michael was able to make everyone happy. But by the end of the day, they were both ready to get out of there.

  “Be ready for more of this, tomorrow,” Michael said as Carolyn slung her purse over her shoulder.

  Carolyn laughed. “I’ll wear my running shoes.”

  He chuckled. “Not a bad idea. See you in the morning.”

  After she took off, he did the books, checked to be certain everything was back where it belonged, and then unlocked the front door. As he stepped out onto the top step, he heard someone call his name.

  By all that’s holy, if it’s someone hoping we’re still open…He quickly set the alarm and locked the door before checking to see who wanted him.

  “Ha. Got here just in time,” Reid Hanson said, getting out of his car.

  “Just in time for me to go home,” Michael retorted sourly. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I’m a nosy parker, and I figured you wouldn’t buzz me into your apartment building?”

  “You got that right. I’m headed there now, and there’s no way I want to talk to you. I don’t know anything more today than I did the day her body was found. Go bug Detective what’s his name.”

  “Daniels. And I’ve talked to him ad nauseam. He’s got nothing new, which you’d know if you’ve been reading my stories.”

  “I have been,” Michael admitted reluctantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He started down the sidewalk to the lot where he parked his car.

  Reid kept up with him, saying, “He might start looking at you as the killer, if he’s done his homework.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Michael said angrily, even as his stomach clenched.

  Instead of replying to the question, Reid said, “Why don’t we find somewhere less public to talk?”

  “I’ll pass. Why don’t you take what you think you know and vamoose out of my life?”

  “Four years in prison,” Reid replied quietly.

  Michael swallowed hard. If the detective finds out about that, and why…”There’s a coffee shop in the next block,” he said, not looking at Reid as he started to walk in that direction.

  Reid stayed beside him, even holding the door for Michael when they got there. They ordered coffee and found a table far enough away from the few other customers that no one could overhear them.

  * * * *

  Reid studied Michael as the man’s gaze flickered around the room while taking a deep drink of coffee. “I don’t really think you killed her,” Reid said. His lips quirked up. “That’s a bit drastic to stop someone from causing disturbances occasionally.”

  “Tempting though, when they happened,” Michael muttered. “But I didn’t.” He finally looked at Reid. “What do you know about…me?”

  “It took a lot of searching, but I found out about your stint in jail for assault. Not the details. Only that you did time.”

  Michael nodded. “And now you want all the dirt behind that.”

  “Only if you want to tell me. I have no intention of publishing anything about that part of your life.”

  “Thanks.” Michael stared into his coffee cup. He seemed to be making a decision, with a qualifier, Reid found out. “This is strictly off the record. If you do print anything I tell you, I’ll deny it and sue you and the paper for libel.”

  “A bit hard to do, since it’s the truth.”

  “That I did time? Yeah. The reason…?” Michael shook his head. “It was pure stupidity.”

  “Oh?” Reid replied when Michael stopped there.

  “I’d turned twenty-one, and graduated, two days apart. So a celebration was in order according to my friends. I had no problem with that.” Michael took a gulp of coffee. “I’ll admit, I had a problem with alcohol. Not a major one. I just didn’t know when to stop once I started drinking. And I’d get angry easily when that happened. So, we were at a bar. Not exactly the best one in the city, but not the worst, either. I was over my limit when a couple of men started hassling us—well, me and my roommate. My friends tried to get us out of there but I wasn’t having any of that. I told the men to back off, or else. They didn’t, so I threw a few punches. One of them—” Michael looked down at his clenched fists. “One of them landed hard. Knocked the bastard out. Broke his jaw and when he fell, he hit his head on the corner of a table.”

  “I take it he didn’t die, or you’d have done a lot more than four years.”

  “No. He spent time in the hospital, but that was it. Anyway, the cops were called. I was arrested. My roommate was well off so he got me a good lawyer. What with the extenuating circumstances, I got four years, a hefty fine, and a two-year parole when I got out.”

  “This is none of my business, but was your roommate more than that?”

  Michael nodded. “He was, although it ended after the trial. He was willing to pay, since I was defending us from those bastards, but…Well, as he put it at the time, he’d seen a side of me he didn’t like. So he walked.”

  “So much for loyalty,” Reid commented. He rested his elbows on the table. “You came back here to work with your mother, from what I’ve found out.”

  Michael scowled. “Why are you digging into my life?”

  “Honestly? Because you went counter to most people I interview. The average citizen likes seeing their name in the paper. You brushed that—and me—aside. I’m a reporter. I like to find out the why of things. Yeah, you could have been one of the shy ones, but I didn’t get that feeling from you.”

  With a shrug, Michael replied, “Not normally. So, to answer your question. Yeah, I came back here when Mom asked for my help with the shop. Hell, I wasn’t likely to find a job. Not with my record and why. Or at least not a decent one. I didn’t find out until a month after I started at the shop that there was more to her offer than her being my mother. She’d found out she had terminal cancer and would only live another year, at best.”

  “That had to have been hard, on top of everything else.”

  “You have no idea. She raised me alone from the time I was four. Made sure I worked hard in school so I could get a scholarship to college.”

  “Did you?
”

  “Yeah. And then I blew everything in one drunken night.”

  Reid leaned back, looking at him. “Do your like what you’re doing? Or are you only fulfilling your mother’s wish?”

  “I love it. Hell, I majored in business, with—and this was off the wall I know—a minor in costuming. That was because of Mom and the shop. She got me interested in it but didn’t want me to make costuming my life’s work. Anyway, between the two majors, I’m pretty qualified to own and run the shop, which I inherited on her death, along with the condo where I’m living.”

  “Not bad. A shitty way to get both of them, but at least you have a steady job.”

  Michael rolled his eyes. “As steady as owning a costume shop can be, what with all the fly-by-nights that pop up before Halloween and vanish right after Christmas.”

  “They cut into your business?”

  Michael snorted. “Don’t even get me started on that.”

  “Okay, I won’t,” Reid said with a smile. “Off track a bit, but did your mother know?”

  “Taking a wild leap here about what you mean, but yeah, she knew I was gay. It was no big secret and she didn’t care. She just wanted me to be happy.” Michael sighed. “And I was, until I decided, bolstered by too much alcohol, to—” he made finger quotes “—fight for my honor.”

  Reid nodded. “Again, none of my business, but do you still drink?”

  “No. That night was the last time.”

  Something to remember for the future. Reid wasn’t certain why that mattered—but for some reason, it did. “Then what do you do for entertainment?”

  “Read a lot. Go to movies sometimes. It is possible to live your life without hitting up bars or clubs and still have fun.”

  “So they tell me.” When Michael frowned, Reid held up one hand. “Hey, I was kidding. I’m not big on that whole scene myself. I rarely go to a bar unless I’m on a story.” He caught a look at the time and said. “I should let you go. Thanks for talking with me. I promise, Scouts’ Honor, I won’t put any of what you said into a story. I’ll admit, though, I wish you had more of a clue about what Ms. Lee was like.”

  “I don’t. I never cared, except when she was having one of her fits about her door. I’m sure that problem was a result of her drinking, or, hell, doing drugs, maybe.”

  “If I get a chance, I’ll ask the good detective if she had any in her system.”

  “Do that,” Michael said with a slight smile. “For now, yeah, it’s time I got back home. Tomorrow’s Saturday, and one of the city’s movers-and-shakers is throwing a costume party, so if today’s any indication we’re going to be running our legs off tomorrow.”

  “You and?” Reid asked as they both got up.

  “Carolyn. She’s my costumer and all around…girl Friday, I guess. Though since she turned thirty last month, she’s hardly a girl anymore.”

  “So it’s just the two of you working there?”

  “Yes. Except for September through the beginning of November. Then I hire extra help.”

  “Makes sense.”

  By then they were out on the street. Reid walked with Michael until they got to Reid’s car. Then they said good night and headed their separate ways.

  * * * *

  By the end of Saturday’s rush, Michael was ready for two days off. He decided cooking supper wasn’t going to happen and stopped at one of his favorite restaurants instead. After a good meal, he went home, ready to read and relax. So he wasn’t exactly elated when he found he’d had a message from Detective Daniels on his answering machine, asking him to call. The only redeeming factor was it had come in at three that afternoon, and it was now well after eight. Why call here, and not my cell? He found out when he checked and saw it was dead. That happened more often than it probably should, he knew. He hated being tethered to a phone twenty-four-seven. He handled enough calls on the shop’s phone at work to last him until the hell froze over, as far as he was concerned.

  Figuring it was too late to return the detective’s call; Michael made a note to remind himself to do it first thing in the morning. Then he settled down with his book, after putting his cell on the charger. He read until his vision began blurring before calling it a night.

  * * * *

  Michael didn’t have to call the detective. At eight Sunday morning his cell phone rang.

  Blearily he took it off the charger, checked the caller ID, and sighed. “Good morning, Detective.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Wright. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “You did, but that’s all right. How can I help you?”

  “I’d appreciated it you’d come down to the precinct.”

  Michael knew ‘appreciate’ meant ‘you’d better’. His gut clenched as he asked, “When?”

  “This morning. Say at nine-thirty. That should give you time to dress and grab something to eat.”

  “I’ll be there,” Michael replied before hanging up. He had the feeling if he’d asked why, the detective would have said he’d tell him when he got there.

  Deciding to put up a good front, he dressed in slacks and one of his better shirts, rather than his usual day-off clothes—jeans and T-shirt. He managed to get down some toast and coffee, too worried to eat more. Then he took off to face whatever Daniels wanted him for.

  At the precinct, Michael told the man at the front desk why he was there. A few minutes later, Detective Daniels appeared, taking Michael up to the squad room.

  When they were seated at Daniels’ desk, the detective said, “I’ve done some checking on you, Mr. Wright, since you’re the only person in the building who seems to have had any contact with Ms. Lee, other than the manager and the man who owns the condo she was renting.”

  Michael looked straight at him as he replied, “And?”

  “You spent four years in prison for assaulting a man in a bar.”

  “I did. That was six year ago. Since then, I’ve stayed out of trouble.”

  The detective ignored his reply. “You have a bad temper, according to the file on your case.”

  “Yes. When I drink. I haven’t had a drink since I left prison.”

  “You were angry at Ms. Lee’s actions.”

  “I’ll admit I wasn’t happy at having my peace and quiet interrupted by her yelling that she couldn’t get into her place—three Saturday nights in a row. I told you I tried to help her the first time. The second time I could hear a man with her, so I didn’t bother.”

  “And the night before her murder, you said you were going to confront her about that again.”

  Michael gave a sharp nod. “But that was a moot point. The man she was with that time must have gotten the door open because they were going inside when I looked into the hallway. I’ve already told you that.”

  “Tell me about this man.”

  “As I said, I barely saw him. He had dark hair and heavy eyebrows.” Michael closed his eyes, trying to picture the man. “Maybe my height, which is five-eleven, or a bit taller. Wearing jeans and a shirt. Blue, if I remember correctly. I only saw him for a few seconds.”

  The detective wrote that down, but the expression on his face told Michael he wasn’t certain he believed him.

  “What would you have done if she hadn’t been with this man you say you saw?”

  “Probably reamed her a new one and told her to get help with her problem,” Michael replied honestly. “But I wouldn’t have done more than that. If you’re trying to imply I made the whole thing up because I let my temper get the best of me and killed her—forget it. The assault I did time for stemmed from alcohol-induced rage. Normally, I’m a fairly calm person.”

  Detective Daniels leaned back, looking at him. “I know that the man was with her because they were seen entering the building together, by a householder who lives across the street, although the witness didn’t see what the man looked like.”

  “Then why are you trying to push my buttons about it?”

  “To see how you’d react under pressure. I
don’t think you killed her. I do think you might have seen more than you remember when it comes to her. Seen, or heard.”

  Michael took a deep breath. “I take it I passed your test. I suppose I understand why you did it, but I still resent it.”

  “Understood. Do you remember anything else about her? You were her nearest neighbor.”

  “There was one thing, or two I guess,” Michael replied. “Twice, I saw her out on her balcony. Both times there were men with her.” He smiled slightly. “I wasn’t spying on her, but when you hear voices you tend to look to see who is talking. I didn’t get a good look at them, but my feeling is it was a different one each time. Different body shapes.”

  “Meaning height, weight?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “Could either of them been the man you saw with her, her last night?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael replied in exasperation. “Three very brief views…” He shrugged.

  Detective Daniels nodded. “The reason I’m asking is because Ms. Lee was a high-priced call girl.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No.”

  “She sure didn’t look like one. And the whole thing with her door? That was crazy. Did she use?”

  “I’m not going to reveal the details of her death.”

  Michael smiled dryly. “Meaning she did, which would explain the whole problem she had with the door. She was higher than a kite and probably couldn’t get the key in the lock, or tell that she was using the wrong one.” He thought about that. “Maybe she had a john who dosed her up on some drug before sending her on her way. A regular she only saw on Saturdays?”

  The detective ignored Michael’s speculations, other than to point out she had come home with a man the previous Saturday. Then he said, “If there’s nothing else you can tell me, you’re free to go.”

  “Nothing I can think of.” Michael barely smiled, adding, “So I’m off the hook for her murder?”

  “As I told you, you were never really on it,” Daniels replied. “I just had to be certain you didn’t have a quick temper when under pressure.”