“I decided to stick around since my client isn’t well. I owed him that much.”
He threw a grin. “Very admirable, but I’m sure there’s more to the story.”
I took a breath. “Okay, look, Nick met this woman at a local bar last Saturday night—we’ll call her Elizabeth. They went back to his place, got romantic, and the next morning when my client went out to bring back breakfast, she vanished.”
Walker shook his head. “Come on, that shit happens all the time. This Elizabeth must’ve realized she wasn’t interested and took off while he was gone. That’s not a stretch.”
I nodded. “I thought so too, at first, but then my client told me about a threatening phone call he received that morning before he went out. My client thought it was a crank call from a friend, but when he returned, she was gone.”
Walker began writing furiously as not to miss a beat. I assumed he’d record us instead of taking notes, but hey, the old school must work for him.
When he stopped, he said, “So where’s this Elizabeth now? You said you found her afterward.”
I told Walker the rest of the story: Nick’s breakdown, the hospital, and Elizabeth’s final disappearing act. I waited for Walker to finish his note-taking, then said, “Elizabeth has to be involved. If she helped Nick get discharged and return here, she must have had a motive. Maybe she knew the husband would show up and she’d get a chance to kill him.”
Walker raised an eyebrow, and I nodded.
“She took off, leaving the weapon in my client’s hand.”
“Possible.”
“And another thing: she asked me if I knew a hit man.”
He looked pointedly at me. “You’re saying Elizabeth, or whatever her name is, set your client up. They have a romantic evening, she disappears, then reappears, and then this.”
“Look, Detective, I know it sounds crazy, but I think she set up my client from the get-go. She must have sensed he was an easy mark, and this is the result of it.”
Walker thought a moment. “You’re not bullshitting me to go easy on your client, are you, Reed?” He frowned.
“Absolutely not. When I find her—”
Walker put up a hand. “This isn’t your case.”
“Sorry, I was on the job too long.”
Walker studied me. “But…if you do obtain information, I expect you to share it with me. Remember, I’m allowing you here as a professional courtesy.”
I nodded. “I want the real killer caught as much as you do, Detective.”
“Good, I’m glad we understand each other.” He paused. “Why did your client hire a New York P.I.? I’m sure he could have easily found one locally.”
“True, but my client is related to a good friend of mine, a senior New York City homicide detective. He’s actually on his way here as we speak.”
Walker kept his gaze on me, then tucked away his notebook. “I want to show you something.”
We let a few CSI folks off the elevator before getting on. “Looks like they’re done,” I observed.
When we arrived at Nick’s floor and headed inside, I could hear what sounded like a one-way conversation.
I found Nick in the living room, sitting in a chair, in cuffs. His unfocused eyes stared at the floor while Walker’s partner barked questions at him, not that he was getting anywhere. Nick was clearly on another planet.
I looked around for Terry, my eyes stopping at the kitchen floor, where he was sprawled out, his head leaning to one side in a pool of blood. I gathered he’d taken at least one to the head.
The detective interviewing Nick was dressed in street clothes, and when he turned to us, he scowled. “Who the fuck is he?”
Walker thumbed at me. “He’s a P.I. Ross hired and a former homicide detective. Name’s Hank Reed. All good.” Walker turned to me. “Smitty gets that way on the job sometimes.” He turned to his partner and cracked a smile. “Meet Detective Smith.”
Smith was medium size with short brown hair, in his mid-thirties and sporting a three-day stubble. He stood up and folded his arms. “Yeah, well, I hope you vetted him.”
Walker nodded. “I spoke to his former boss. He vouched for him. Reed here was hired by the accused. I think he can help us.”
Smith looked at Nick then me. “Yeah, well, your client isn’t very chatty today.”
I turned to Nick, who wouldn’t or couldn’t recognize me. He sat slouched, minus the weapon, still unfocused.
“Like I told Detective Walker, I just saw Nick at the hospital this morning. He was out of it, kinda like he is now. He couldn’t have managed to get here by himself. He hired me to find a woman, apparently, the same woman who helped him get out of the hospital and bring him back here. I provided your partner with information.”
Smith eyed Walker, who nodded. “Like Reed said, the woman helped get him out of the hospital a little while ago.”
“You can check with Doctor Martin Powers from Coral Springs General.” Powers wasn’t in, so I hoped he wouldn’t call yet.
Smith seemed to mull over my response. “And the dead guy inside, who’s he?”
“The missing woman’s husband. Detective Walker can fill you in on the details, but my client hired me to find the wife—though he didn’t know she was married. They became an item and then she disappeared.” I stepped carefully over to Terry, looked down. His dragon was as dead as he was. “That’s the husband, all right. A nasty guy who chased her from upstate New York. He intended to bring her back one way or another.” I turned to Smith. “Guess that won’t be happening.”
Smith rubbed his stubble. “So, she and your client hooked up and the husband winds up murdered in his apartment?”
“Like I said, my client didn’t know she was married at the time.” I glanced over at Nick. “I doubt he knows it now. Look at him. I’m sure if he knew, he wouldn’t have been interested.”
“Why not? People get involved with married people all the time. Well, maybe not me.” He gave me a smirk.
I ignored his sarcasm. “I can’t tell you how the husband originally found out she was here, but while my client was out of the apartment, the deceased snatched her. She later escaped.” I looked over at Terry. “I guess he got lucky and found her again. Well, maybe not lucky for him.” I shrugged.
“Right, lucky. And the woman disappeared again.”
“Apparently, soon after the murder. That’s why I believe she’s the shooter.”
Smith challenged, “Says you.”
“Look, you know I was a homicide detective before this gig. This whole scene smells like a setup. The woman in question was in a dubious business with the vic here. She wanted the guy dead. Hell, she asked me if I knew a hit man.” My eyes shifted from Smith to Walker. “I’m convinced she set up my client.”
Walker said, “I think Reed can help us, Smitty.”
Smith shot him a look, then to me, said, “Be my guest.”
I stood in front of Nick. He didn’t blink, nor was he in a talkative mood, and remained still, almost catatonic, and oblivious to his surroundings. My fear was the detectives, more so Smith, wanted to get this case over with, even if it meant arresting Nick prematurely. I was determined not to let that happen, which meant I had to find Elizabeth, and quick.
To appease the detectives, I mentioned I’d be available if they needed me. Since I was technically still on the job—finding Elizabeth again—I’d keep them in the loop.
Walker was okay with it, but his partner was more possessive of his case and said he’d be in touch with me if he needed my help. Evidently, Smith was the detective in charge.
“Sure. Your partner has my card.”
Twenty-Six
I stood outside Nick’s apartment complex watching a few stragglers from the crime scene waiting with anticipation of seeing the accused, or more morbidly, the black bag carrying the deceased.
Great entertainment for the day.
Mrs. Burke remained, holding Tiger in her arms. She eyed me and tilted her hea
d in one direction. I sensed Nick’s neighbor wanted to talk as she edged away from the crowd.
I crossed the street and followed her to where she stopped in between two apartment buildings.
“Hi,” I said, catching up to her. “You probably want to know what’s going on—”
She put Tiger down and held the leash tightly. “I heard Nick was in the hospital.” She pointed to his building. “What’s that all about?”
I peered down at Tiger, who lay on the grass looking bored, then back to the owner. “I can’t really say, except they think Nick killed someone. I don’t, and I’m working to find out who the real killer is.”
“You a cop?”
I didn’t want to acknowledge that Nick had hired me, so I said, “Former detective. I’m Nick’s friend.”
Her eyes shifted back to the crime scene. “A shame. Nick wouldn’t hurt a fly. It had to be someone else. Maybe it was her.” She scowled, letting me absorb her comment.
My eyes widened. “Who?”
She bent down to pet Tiger, who licked her hand. When she peered up, she told me, “I shouldn’t be speculating.”
“Mrs. Burke, if you have information, no matter how insignificant, the police need to know. Sometimes small details can be very helpful.”
Her silence told me she was struggling. “My husband was a police officer, back in New Jersey. He said the same thing. I miss him—my Buddy.” She sighed. “He died a few years ago.”
I didn’t want to appear insensitive. “Sorry for your loss. Buddy was right, so if you can help the police—me—you might get Nick out of a jam.”
She sighed again, longer this time.
“A woman.” She pointed at Nick’s apartment. “It was quick, so I didn’t get a good description. She seemed to be in a hurry and ran to a car across the street. She didn’t even look while crossing.” Her eyes drifted back toward Nick’s building. “I watched her jump in the back seat of a car. Buddy would have said she looked suspicious.”
Buddy would be right. “And you’re sure it was a woman?”
She nodded. “She had the shape of a woman, anyway. Know what I mean? Slim. And her movement as she ran. You can tell, right?”
I supposed so, and I hoped Mrs. Burke could too. “Can you give me a better description?” I asked, my excitement mounting. “This is very important.”
Her eyes closed momentarily. “Young—well, everyone is young to me. She was wearing a ball cap of some kind, and sunglasses.”
“Tall, short?”
“Average, for a girl—a woman.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t remember, but way before the cops arrived.”
“You’re sure of this?”
“I remember because it was the end of Tiger’s routine walk.” She pointed to the last building on the block near Nick’s condo. “We were about to return when the sirens became louder, scaring the hell out of my poor Tiger.”
I looked down at her pooch. He was lying comfortably on his back, legs spread. I almost laughed.
“One more question, and this is crucial. Did you notice the type of car she hopped into? And the color?” I held off asking if she noticed the plate number.
She sighed. “I’m not good with cars, and it took off quickly, but it was big and white, and fancy. Oh, and it didn’t have a Florida license plate. It was like an orange gold.”
New York?
Her eyes locked on mine. “It might not mean much, but there was a sticker of some kind on the front windshield.”
“Decal? Like a business sign? A “U” maybe?”
She shrugged. “Like I said, he pulled out quickly.”
“A man?”
She shrugged again. “I’m just assuming. Could have been a woman.”
“Mrs. Burke, you need to talk to the detectives working the case. They’d be very interested in hearing what you have to tell them. And don’t forget to give them the description of the car—and the plate color.”
She seemed to hesitate.
“It’s very important and will help Nick. And Buddy would be proud of your observation techniques.”
She liked that. “Okay, I can do it.”
“The detective’s name is Walker. A nice guy. Ready?”
She scooped up Tiger and followed me over to Nick’s building. “This is exciting.”
Right.
I found Walker in the lobby and introduced him to Mrs. Burke and Tiger. He nodded at both.
“She witnessed something.”
I left and headed back to the car. Two questions ran through my head: who had called the cops soon after the murder? And did Mrs. Burke notice if what she saw was an Uber decal?
Back in the car, I called JR. He picked up on the second ring, and I could tell from the background noise, he was still at LaGuardia Airport.
“Hank, there’s been a delay, maybe another half-hour.”
“Nick’s in trouble! He’s accused of killing Elizabeth’s husband. I just left the crime scene.”
“Hold on, it’s noisy in here.” A moment later. “What’s this about Nick in trouble?”
I broke the news, starting with Elizabeth springing Nick from the hospital. When I finished, I waited for JR to respond.
“This is a lot to take in. Something doesn’t add up.”
“And now she’s gone again, and Nick’s been arrested. It’s hard not to believe Elizabeth set Nick up.”
“To kill the husband? I wonder how long she planned that out.”
“I’m hoping to have more information by the time you arrive. And JR, Nick’s gonna need an attorney.”
“Right, of course. I’ll make a few calls. He should have one before I arrive. See you later.”
I hung up and called Amanda. “Where’s Elizabeth? And don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“Hank, I swear, I have no idea where she is. What happened?”
“Terry’s dead.”
When she didn’t answer, I said, “Did you hear me? Your brother-in-law was killed in Nick’s apartment. And Elizabeth’s missing. Can you explain that?”
“Hank, please, you have to believe me, I had no idea. What about Nick? Is he okay?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I just assumed he was with my sister, and if what you say is true, that she disappeared…look, it was an innocent question.”
“Nick’s been accused of shooting Terry. It happened soon after Elizabeth sprung Nick from the hospital. He doesn’t own a gun, and even if he did, in his condition, he wouldn’t know which end of the barrel was up.”
She mumbled to herself, then said, “Hank, where would my sister get a gun? She certainly didn’t have one when she arrived in Florida. Could be someone else killed Terry. Maybe she hired that crazy sidekick of his, Sammy.”
Sammy had reached for his weapon in the glove compartment when I confronted him.
“She’d still be an accessory.”
“I guess.”
She’d guess?
“What do you know about Sammy? He seems to go everywhere with Terry.”
“The guy’s a creep. He threatened me in my house, imitating Terry, saying there would be consequences if I held back sharing where my sister was. I don’t think he’s smart enough to use the word consequences, but he was still threatening.”
“What would he have to gain by killing Terry?”
Amanda held off a moment. “I hate to say this, but maybe Elizabeth offered him a piece of the carwash business in return? Quid pro quo.”
Definitely guilty.
“How would she get in touch with Sammy? Especially, considering he was always with Terry?”
“Hank, I’m not a PI. But it wouldn’t surprise me if she found a way.” Amanda stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I don’t think she would hire someone to kill Terry. I mean, she could have had him killed before she ran away from him.”
I didn’t mention Elizabeth’s inquiry of a hit man. Maybe she did seek out Sammy
. “If she contacts you, call me.”
“Of course.”
I hung up. Not expecting JR for at least three hours, and with no place in mind, I decided to surprise Amanda at her motel. Who knows? Maybe I’d find Elizabeth there.
Dusk had settled in. I parked and glanced up at Amanda’s motel room. The light was on, and I wondered if she was alone. She’d resent me for not calling in advance, but I wasn’t out to make friends, so I’d apologize later.
I paused and placed my ear to the door. Quiet. Maybe too quiet. No TV or radio playing. Several light taps went nowhere. I knocked harder, still, no answer.
Not good! I turned and looked down at the dark parking lot. It was quiet. I knocked one last time, and was about to call her, when the door opened. Amanda stood wrapped only in a towel. Her glistening hair framed her neck, accenting her beautiful face, and I knew I had made a mistake by not calling first. Or had I?
“Hank, what are you doing here?” Her lips tweaked into a whimsical smile.
“Amanda, I apologize for showing up before calling.” I realized she must have just taken a shower. My eyes swept over her, the curve of her breasts protruding above the towel.
“I had no place to go—”
She pulled me inside.
Twenty-Seven
At first, I didn’t realize my cell had rung. It was muffled in my pants pocket, which lay near the door where I’d left it. I started for it, but Amanda caught my arm.
“Do you have to?”
What I wanted was to make love again, but that nagging buzzing brought me back to reality.
I leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “Might be important.” I kissed her again, then slid out of bed, swearing softly.
I struggled to remove the phone from my pocket.
“Hello.” My labored voice must have sounded like I was out of breath.
“Amigo, either I woke you up or you got lucky.” JR laughed.
“You’re at the airport!”
“I am, and you’re not. That’s okay; I can take a taxi.”
“Wait, I’m less than thirty minutes out,” I said, slipping on my pants, then realizing I forgot my Jockeys.
The Edge of Murder (A Hank Reed Mystery, Book 3) Page 12
