Byron stared silently across the table at his friend.
“What?” Ferguson asked.
“I liked you better as a prosecutor,” Byron said.
“Look, John, this case comes down to motive. If Danica had been pregnant that might have risen to the level of providing Alex with a strong motive, but she wasn’t. The way I see it, Lina and Deborah had the best motives to want Faherty out of the picture.”
“Too bad Alex doesn’t have you representing him,” Byron said.
“I just call ’em like I sees ’em, my friend.” Ferguson raised his mug. “Slainte.”
Byron paid the check and the two men parted ways. He climbed into his unmarked then checked his cellphone for messages before leaving the lot. There was a text from Diane that had been sent ten minutes prior.
U awake?
He responded with a text of his own, Yup.
After a moment Diane responded, Coffee?
Where?
Becky’s in ten?
C U there.
Byron wasn’t sure he needed more coffee. Despite his exhaustion the caffeine was making him feel jittery, but he was looking forward to sitting down with her. Despite Diane’s assurances that she had moved past his callous response to the news that she would be applying to the bureau, it still felt like a chasm had opened between them. Was it only in his head? Or was it because the news had caused him to delay floating the idea of moving in together? He didn’t know. What he did know was that he was suddenly hungry. He’d been so preoccupied while tossing around theories with Ferguson that he hadn’t eaten.
Byron turned out of the lot and headed inbound on Congress Street.
One of the advantages of arriving at a popular Portland eatery like Becky’s Diner at precisely the moment the doors opened was the choice seating that punctuality afforded. Byron and Diane sat at the rear corner of the dining room, well away from the morning crowd spilling in. Most of the early risers preferred to sit at the counter or at a booth near the front of the diner. Byron’s preference was sitting anywhere he could have his back to the wall.
“You gonna order food?” he asked.
Diane shook her head. “Just coffee.”
Byron’s attention returned to the waitress. “I’ll have the hash, scrambled eggs, and an English, grilled.”
The waitress departed.
“You really nervous about the interview?” Byron asked.
“My stomach is in knots.”
He grinned. “It’s not like you haven’t done detective work before.”
“I know. I guess I’m just feeling a little rusty. As the public relations sergeant I don’t get to do much sleuthing.”
“You’ll do fine.”
“What’s up with the Faherty case?” she asked, an obvious attempt at changing the subject. “Were you working when I texted you?”
“Yeah, we didn’t finish the search until late. I just met up with Jim Ferguson. In fact, this is like my fifth cup of coffee since midnight. I may never sleep again.”
“How did the search go?”
“It isn’t over,” Byron said. “Pelligrosso and Murphy are heading back over there in a few hours to finish up. I’ve got a uniform sitting on the house. We found some pretty damning evidence. Including blood in the kitchen.”
“You think Faherty was killed there?”
“I’d be very surprised if she wasn’t.”
“You still like Alex Stavros for the murder?”
“I did until Jim started floating out alternative theories, now I’m doubting myself again.”
It was Diane’s turn to grin. “He is an attorney, after all.”
“Yeah, well he’s good at it.”
“What theories was he suggesting?”
“Mostly problems with motive. He suggested that Lina Stavros or even Alex’s wife, Deborah, might have had more motive to kill Dani than Alex would have. The jealous wife, the grandmother worried that her son’s philandering would drive Deborah away along with the grandkids.”
“Good theories.” Diane took a sip of coffee as she contemplated it. “You think he’s right?”
“Who knows. But it got me to thinking, what if Dani wasn’t the target?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if she was just a way to point the finger at someone else for the murder?”
“To what end?”
“Well, dumping her body at the lumberyard effectively messed up some big-time business plans.”
“Giving Gene Wagner an edge on the bidding,” Diane said.
“Yeah, but also making him look like the guy who benefited from it. Not to mention tainting the future of that property as the site of a gruesome discovery. Hey kids, who wants to stay at the hotel where they found the headless woman?”
“You’re thinking Dani was killed just to screw with Wagner?”
“Or help him. I guess I’m not sure what I think. I’m just looking at cause and effect.”
“Who else was directly affected by Dani’s death?” Diane asked.
“Alex.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if Alex gets charged for the murder, he would be out of the way.”
“Of what?” Diane asked.
“I haven’t figured that out yet. The restaurant business, maybe. The heir apparent to Lina’s fortune. I don’t know. I’m just toying with an idea.”
The waitress dropped off Byron’s order, refilled their coffees, then scurried away to wait other tables.
“What time’s your interview?” Byron asked.
“Ten-thirty.”
“And there’s four of you interviewing?”
“Three. Me, Kenny Crosby, and Andy Pepin. Tom Fitzgerald pulled out.”
“Your odds are improving. Who’s on the panel?”
“Lynds, Rumsfeld, Commander Jennings, LeRoyer, and Barry Sonnenfeld.”
“Sonnenfeld? Why the legal advisor?”
Diane shrugged. “Test our knowledge of case law maybe?”
“Hell, you probably have a better understanding of case law than he does.”
Diane sipped her coffee.
“Well, you know Chief Lynds wants you, and by extension so will Marty. No idea about Sonnenfeld.”
“And the others?” Diane asked.
“Who knows? Rumpswab might go along to get along, although I don’t imagine that Lynds gives a fuck what he thinks at this point. His days are numbered.”
“And the commander?”
Byron thought back to the inside information he’d received about Jennings during the Haggerty shooting. “I trust him as far as I can throw him. He’ll probably have to roll over and ask Mayor Gilcrest what she thinks.”
Diane was unsuccessful at hiding a smile behind her cup.
At precisely eight-thirty Martin LeRoyer breezed into Byron’s office and closed the door.
Byron looked up from the stack of reports he was still going though from the previous night.
“Where are we on arresting Alex Stavros?” LeRoyer asked.
“And good morning to you, Lieu,” Byron said.
“I’m serious, John. Where are we?”
“What do you mean, where are we? We’re nowhere near that yet.” Byron’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why are you asking?”
“Because there are about five different news media outlets camped out in the lobby looking for confirmation.”
“Confirmation on what? We haven’t even confirmed that the blood in Lina’s house belongs to Faherty yet.”
“Well, someone leaked the story that we’re looking at Alex Stavros. They are reporting that an arrest is imminent.”
Byron could feel the anger burning within him. “Well, that’s just fucking great. Ever get the feeling that someone is trying to sabotage you, Marty?”
“No one’s trying to sabotage you, John.”
Byron didn’t believe that for a second. “Perhaps you forgot about the first leak. You know, the one that led to a standoff between Elmer Fa
herty and Dani’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Shit,” LeRoyer said as he made a pass with the fingers of his right hand back through his hair. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and the lieutenant’s hair was already standing at attention in front. “Lynds is gonna have to give them something.”
“How about telling them the truth?” Byron said. “Some asshole is talking out of school, and we’re still investigating the case. Better yet, why don’t I go down and sort them out?”
LeRoyer held up his hand like a crossing guard. “No, John. I’ll fix this. The last thing I need is for you to make it worse.” The lieutenant flung the office door open and hurried out, nearly running over Mike Nugent in the process.
“Morning, Lieu,” Nugent said. He turned to Byron. “What’s with him?”
Byron grabbed Nugent, Robbins, and Stevens and headed downstairs to the lab to meet with E.T.’s Pelligrosso and Murphy far away from whatever ears might have been listening in.
“What the hell, boss?” Nugent said. “You think it’s someone at 109?”
“Could be one of the court clerks, Sarge,” Murphy said. “They’ve got our affidavit for the search at Angelina’s house.”
“That affidavit was supposed to be impounded,” Stevens said.
“Yeah, for all the good that does,” Nugent said.
“Might be the Stavros family,” Pelligrosso said. “Get it out in front of the public now and make it look like we’re targeting Alex.”
“He’s right,” Nugent said. “Oldest trick in the book when you know you’re about to get snatched up.”
“It could be anyone,” Byron said. “The point is, we’ve been dogged on this since the start. We need to find a way to lock this down.” Byron addressed Pelligrosso. “You guys headed back to Lina’s?”
“Yes. Murph and I will spend a little more time with the alternate light source and I still want to dust for prints.”
“Prints?” Robbins asked. “Whose prints are you hoping to find?”
“Namely?” Pelligrosso said. “Danica Faherty’s.”
Stevens spoke up. “Prints will put her in that house regardless of what the blood shows.”
Byron’s cell rang. It was Jim Ferguson. He accepted the call. “You heard?”
“I did,” Ferguson said. “How soon can you meet me?”
Chapter 28
Thursday, 9:30 a.m.,
July 20, 2017
Byron provided marching orders to Nugent and Robbins before departing 109. Byron and Stevens headed to the Woodford’s Corner Dunkin’ Donuts, grabbed a peace offering for Ferguson then drove by way of Ocean Avenue to Payson Park where the AAG was already waiting.
As they drove up, they found Ferguson leaning against the hood of his car watching two teenagers playing tennis.
“Either of you play?” Ferguson asked as the detectives approached on foot.
“Nope,” Byron said.
“Used to,” Stevens said.
“Any good?” Ferguson asked.
“I was. You?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t. These kids would’ve kicked my ass up and down the court.”
Byron waited until Ferguson was finished before handing him a coffee and addressing the proverbial ten-ton elephant. “Here.”
“Figured it was the least we could do,” Stevens said.
“Thanks,” Ferguson said.
The three of them stood in uncomfortable silence for a long moment, listening to the thwap of the ball off the rackets as it was sent hurling back and forth across the net.
“So?” Byron said.
Ferguson lifted the tab and took a sip before answering. “So, we’ve got a big old leak, huh?”
“Goes without saying,” Byron said.
“Any idea where it’s coming from?”
“Not yet.”
“I can think of a few possibilities,” Stevens said.
Ferguson raised a brow. “Only a few.” He took another sip, keeping his eyes on the tennis match. “How long did you say it would take to confirm that the blood you found was Faherty’s?”
“Two or three days, although it is Thursday. Don’t imagine weekends count,” Byron said. “Unless you can pull some strings to speed up the process.”
“I might be able to,” Ferguson said.
“What can we do to help?” Stevens asked.
“It would be nice if we could stop any further leaks. If Alex Stavros is responsible for Faherty’s murder this is gonna make it much harder to control. His lawyer will likely go on offense now. We might have to charge Alex anyway just to keep him from leaving the country. Get a judge to grab his passport.”
“Can’t we do that without charging him?” Byron asked. “I’d rather not jump the gun on this.”
Ferguson looked at Stevens and cocked a thumb in Byron’s direction. “You angling to get this guy’s job someday?”
Stevens grinned. “I’m hoping.”
“Well, if you do, you have to promise me two things.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t be a pain in my ass.”
“And the second?”
“If you’re gonna be a pain in my ass, at least have the courtesy to bring me a chocolate cruller to go with my coffee.”
In addition to everything else going wrong with the investigation, Byron was struggling with motive. If Alex was responsible, why would he kill Danica? The wide variety of motives for murder makes them very different from other crimes. Thefts, burglaries, and robberies are usually committed by perps with a straightforward motive. Money. Money for drugs, money for booze, or money for whichever orangutan-sized habit had taken up residency on the back of the offending criminal. Homicide motives run the gamut from rage and revenge, to jealousy and betrayal, to every sick and twisted reason in between. Some are spur-of-the-moment actions while others are meticulously planned. Had Alex planned this killing? Would he have gone to the extreme of killing his girlfriend just to keep Deborah from finding out, or was something else happening here?
As they departed from Payson Park, Byron was less sure of where they stood on the case than before their meeting with Ferguson. Byron and Stevens drove directly to Angelina Stavros’s old house on Bowdoin Street. While Pelligrosso and Murphy were busy dusting the bedroom and first-floor bathrooms for prints, Byron and Stevens stuck to the kitchen.
“What are we looking for?” Stevens asked.
“I don’t know,” Byron said. He looked down at the spot on the floor where Pelligrosso had identified the blood, yet again invisible by the light of day. “Let’s walk through this.”
“All right.”
It was a process that Byron had learned from Ray Humphrey, and had performed with Diane countless times. Running through the case facts out loud with another investigator often revealed things that had been overlooked. Two heads and all that.
Byron began, “For the sake of argument, let’s say Alex had nothing to do with Dani’s murder. He drives up here from Boston for a midnight rendezvous—”
“In his friend’s car,” Stevens added.
“Right. In his friend’s car. He and Dani do the dance, maybe they fall asleep, and then he gets up early to be back in Boston before anyone at the convention notices he’s missing. What does Dani do?”
“I don’t know.”
“What would you do?”
“If I were Dani?”
“Yeah, if you were Dani.”
“I’d pick better boyfriends.”
“Come on, Mel. I’m serious.”
“Sorry, I’m just a little punchy.” Stevens took a moment to think it through. “Okay, she probably gets up with Alex and sees him to the door.”
Byron nodded. “Good. Then what?”
“They part with a kiss, and he leaves the house.”
“What is she wearing?”
“How would I know that?”
“Haven’t you ever walked a lover to the door?”
Stevens grinned. “Ah, gotcha. Um, she’s wearing her
new bra and panties. The matched set she was wearing when we recovered her body. Probably purchased in advance of their planned Sunday morning hookup.”
“Right.” Byron would task Tran with checking Faherty’s credit card statements to try and confirm the purchase. If she purchased them either Friday or Saturday it would mean the meeting with Alex had been preplanned.
Stevens continued, “But someone comes in—”
“Or was already in the house waiting,” Byron said.
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Because of what she’s wearing. She wouldn’t answer the door to let in someone she wasn’t expecting, dressed in only her underwear.”
“Or maybe she didn’t let them in. Maybe they let themselves in.”
“Someone with access,” Byron said. “Someone with a key.”
“That’s assuming one of them locked up after Alex left. They might not have.”
“So, who are we looking at?”
“Someone who may have had access to the house, like a family member.”
“Who else?”
“Someone who already knew where they were hooking up.”
Byron nodded and looked down at the floor again. “And when.”
It was nearly eleven as Diane walked out of the chief’s conference room on legs that felt like rubber. The promotional interview had gone badly. At least in her opinion. All her preparation had been for naught. None of the questions she had anticipated were asked. And her answers to the questions that had been posed felt disconnected and vague. And when they got to the part where she was asked if she had any questions, Diane hadn’t been able to think of a single one. Her mind had gone completely blank.
Whatever connection Diane may have felt with Chief Lynds appeared nonexistent as she sat across the table from the panel. Even LeRoyer had seemed chilly and distant. She couldn’t understand it. Maybe it took a different kind of person to supervise a homicide case. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for this after all.
Within Plain Sight Page 25
