The Lee Callaway Boxed Set

by Thomas Fincham

  “I took a sip and hated the taste. It burned the back of my throat. Dillon saw the look on my face, and he laughed. He encouraged me to drink some more. He said I’d get used to it very fast.”

  Callaway’s jaw tightened. He was trying to get you drunk.

  Becky said, “After a couple more sips, the burning got so intense that I threw up on the carpet.”

  That explains why the carpet was cleaned up later.

  “He gave me water, but then suddenly he tried to kiss me. I told him I had a boyfriend. I was lying, but I didn’t like what he was doing. He said he would teach me some things I could show my boyfriend later. He tried to get on top of me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. He was old enough to be my father.”

  Callaway could feel anger rise up in him. He balled his fists.

  “He kept saying I should feel lucky someone like him was interested in me. He was a big movie star, and if I let him do what he wanted, he could try to get me a part in one of his movies. I told him I didn’t want to be an actress. He just laughed. I was on the sofa, and he was on top of me. I knew what was going to happen next. We were shown videos of situations like that in school. He had the wine glass in his hand, and when he turned to put it on the coffee table, I pushed him back with my knees. I then jumped up on the sofa, reached over and grabbed a bookend that was on a bookshelf. The wine glass fell from his hand and spilled on the carpet. He cursed and turned back to me.” Becky took a deep breath. “I hit him on the head with the bookend. I don’t think he had time to react, and then he dropped to the floor.” Becky shook. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I never meant to hurt him. I only wanted him off me so I could run out of the house.”

  Her mom put her arms around her and hugged her tight. Becky sobbed into her chest.

  Callaway looked up at the ceiling in deep thought. More questions were answered. Fisher believed Scott’s attacker was over six feet, which is what Jimmy was. But Becky, who was five-three at best, was on the sofa when she hit Scott from above, thus giving the impression that Scott’s attacker was taller than him.

  Callaway asked, “Afterwards, you called Jimmy, is that right?”

  Becky nodded. “He drove straight over and asked me exactly what had happened. He told me not to worry about anything, and that he would take care of it.”

  Callaway knew what Jimmy did next. He had laid it out in his confession. He cleaned Becky’s vomit off the carpet, took the wine glasses with her and Scott’s fingerprints, and he also took the bookend with her prints on it.

  Callaway realized Jimmy had taken the fall for Becky. He was not a murderer.

  Jimmy is innocent!

  “Mr. Callaway.”

  Becky’s words broke his reverie.

  “Jimmy is locked up because of me. He lied to protect me. What should I do?”

  Callaway had no idea. His head was reeling.

  EIGHTY-THREE

  Callaway told Becky to go home. He would call her later if he needed more information. At the moment, he needed to see Jimmy.

  After speaking to Fisher, he was allowed back in the interview room. He found Jimmy seated behind the metal table. He had a smile on his face. “Hey, kid,” he said. “I knew you couldn’t stay angry at me for long.”

  “I met your granddaughter,” Callaway said. “Becky Miller.”

  The smile evaporated from Jimmy’s face. “Oh god, no. She didn’t…?”

  “She told me everything,” Callaway said, taking a seat across from him.

  Jimmy put his hands over his face and shook his head. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just a child.”

  “She’s old enough to know what’s right and what’s wrong.”

  “How’d she find you?” Jimmy asked, looking up.

  “Apparently, you told her to seek me out if she needed help.”

  “I meant if she got in trouble, not to involve you in this.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” Callaway asked.

  “About Becky?”

  Callaway leaned closer. “About Becky, about what happened at Scott’s house, everything.”

  Jimmy sighed. “What was I gonna say?”

  “You could have started off by telling me you had a grandkid.”

  “How would that look, huh?” Jimmy replied. “I spent my whole life telling you and everyone else that family means nothing and that they only bring you down. But you know what? It’s all bullshit. You need people in your life. You need someone to remember you when you’re gone.”

  “I would have remembered you,” Callaway said.

  Jimmy smiled. “I know you would have, kid, but you know what I mean.”

  Callaway said nothing.

  Jimmy said, “After a while, you begin to realize you need something more in your life. I’ve always looked out for number one, but what I should have been looking out for was other people. That’s what makes life worth it. It can’t be all about you. You can’t go from one thing to another, always looking for excitement and adventure.”

  “Are you dying, Jimmy?” Callaway asked.

  Jimmy blinked. “What?”

  “You sound like a man who has seen the end and wants to make amends for his sins.”

  “No, I’m not dying, and yes, I do want to make amends for what I’ve done.” Jimmy reached over and placed his hand over his. The gesture surprised Callaway. “Lee, you got a precious little girl. Don’t waste your life like I did. Go and make sure you’re part of her life. Before you know it, she’ll be all grown up. Right now she needs you, whether you see it or not.

  Callaway’s head began to spin. He pulled his hand away. “You fed me the I-should-be-a-lone-wolf crap, that I should be free to experience life and squeeze every drop out of it. What was that all about, Jimmy?”

  “When I met you, I really believed that stuff. But now I don’t.”

  “Was it the heart attack?”

  “It was the catalyst, but it was so much more. When I had the heart attack, I was at home, drinking a beer and watching TV. That was my routine each night. And I loved that I didn’t have to change it for anyone. But when I collapsed on the floor, clutching my chest, I kept thinking about Walter. I didn’t want to die alone. Luckily, I had my cell phone in my front pocket. I was able to dial 9-1-1.” He stared into Callaway’s eyes. “When I was asking about Nina and Patti, there was a reason. I was hoping to steer your mind back to them.”

  Callaway looked away. “I was a terrible husband and a lousy father,” he said.

  “I can’t give you any marriage advice because I never got married, but I can tell you, don’t push Nina away like I pushed my son away.”

  “I don’t know how to be a father,” Callaway confessed.

  “Then be her friend. Or better yet, just be there for her.”

  Callaway crossed his arms over his chest. He could not believe the man who had once told him having a family was akin to getting an incurable disease was now telling him the opposite. Maybe it wasn’t Jimmy who was the fool all these years, maybe it was Callaway. He listened to Jimmy’s words like they were gospel. Jimmy was nothing more than a male fantasy of booze, women, and danger. In reality, he was a sad old man.

  Jimmy shook his head. “My son, James, he was not like me in many ways, but in other ways, he was. He didn’t gamble, he didn’t drink all that much, he loved his wife, Sara, and he adored his little girl, Becky. But like me, he was reckless…”

  Callaway’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  EIGHTY-FOUR

  “After I heard about the accident at the construction site, I started looking into it,” Jimmy replied. “I’m a private investigator, after all. I wanted justice for Sara and Becky. What I found out was that James was addicted to prescription medication. He’d hurt his back and was popping two dozen painkillers a day. On the morning of the accident, he had downed a handful right before he picked up the sledgehammer. The wall he was digging next to was safe. An engineer had evaluated it only a day before. James dug to
o close to the wall, and it caved in on him.”

  “How did you find this out?” Callaway asked.

  “I tracked down one of his buddies from work. He was torn up about what happened. Apparently, he was helping James get the painkillers. No doctor would prescribe someone that many pills a day, but with his buddy’s help, James got all the meds he wanted. The buddy had warned James to get help, but James was a sweet talker, like me. He convinced his buddy that it was only for a short period, until his back healed up. James’s back had healed up months earlier. I saw the doctor’s reports. He was just not strong enough to stop using painkillers.”

  “The Occupational Safety and Health Administration made no mention of the painkillers in their findings,” Callaway said, aware of some of the details, thanks to Becky. “They did, however, mention the marijuana.”

  “Right after the accident, the buddy realized the investigators would start digging into the prescription medication and how James was able to get so many pills. The buddy was afraid he’d get in trouble for supplying him the drugs. He was able to remove the bottle of pills from his lunch pail. Also, James was not getting the painkillers under his name but under the buddy’s, so it didn’t raise any red flags. And as for the pot, like I said before, James was reckless. Some of the guys used to smoke it before their shift, including his buddy, and James would join them. When the government investigators questioned the buddy about it, he fessed up to the pot because it’s a misdemeanor, but he never told them about the painkillers, which would have been a federal offense.”

  Callaway was silent.

  Jimmy continued. “Becky and Sara have no idea. They think James was squeaky clean, and I don’t have the heart to tell them otherwise. And why would I? I was never there to guide my son in the right direction. Heck, I might have made him worse, like I did with you.”

  “I wasn’t good to begin with,” Callaway said.

  “You weren’t bad, either. You were lost when you came to me, and I could have molded you right, but instead I gave you all my bad traits, and for that I’m really sorry, Lee.”

  Callaway just stared at him. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I wasn’t some fresh-faced kid. I was married, and I had a kid of my own. I knew what I was doing when I knocked on your door.”

  “All I have to say is that our actions have consequences,” Jimmy said.

  “But that’s not what happened with Becky,” Callaway said. “She killed Dillon Scott, but you‘re not letting her actions have consequences.”

  Jimmy’s face turned dark. “You can’t tell anyone what she told you.”

  “It was self-defense,” Callaway said. “They’ll show her leniency once they know the details about what happened.”

  “She killed someone…”

  “But it was—”

  “She can’t go to jail!” Jimmy roared. “She’s still young. You know what happens to people with a murder conviction, don’t you? It stays on their record for a long time. If they’re lucky, maybe it can be expunged, but until then, you’re known as a person who killed another human being. Becky can’t be that person. She just can’t. No employer will hire her. No one will want to work with her. No one will give her a loan or want to do business with her. Murder can’t be ignored. Its stench follows you forever.”

  “She never meant to hurt Scott,” Callaway insisted.

  “Even then, I don’t want her going through a trial, the scrutiny, all of it. Let me take the fall. I’m old. I’ve lived my life. She still has a future. Let me make it up for all the mistakes I’ve made in my life.”

  Callaway felt like someone was hammering nails in his head. He winced as pain shot through his brain.

  “I’m begging you, kid,” Jimmy pleaded. “If you care even a little bit about me, then forget what she told you. Prison is nothing for the damage I’ve caused. I ignored my only son. I let him grow up without a father. I deserve a fate far worse than this. He’s not here to protect his daughter, so I will. Walk away and forget about me. I…”

  Callaway’s ears began to ring. He could no longer hear what Jimmy was saying. So many emotions were raging through him, he felt like his head was about to explode.

  He wanted to scream and make the pain go away, but he couldn’t.

  He got up and left.

  EIGHTY-FIVE

  Fisher sat on a bench that faced Milton Harbor. There were two other benches, and they were both occupied. It was midafternoon, and people were eating their lunches while enjoying the stillness of the water. A hot dog stand was not far from her, and the smell made her mouth water. But Fisher was not here to get a bite to eat or soak in the view.

  At the Milton PD, she had received a call. The caller did not give her name, but she urged Fisher to meet at this location. She said she had information on Dillon Scott, and she wanted to share it with Fisher.

  Fisher’s inclination was to be suspicious. After Scott’s death, the department had been inundated with tips regarding the murder. It seemed everyone and their uncle had a theory as to who had done it. But there was something in the caller’s voice that told her she was not making the call to gain attention. She was calling because it was necessary.

  Fisher agreed and drove straight over.

  As she waited, she began to feel it might have been a mistake. There were people looking for a place to sit, and Fisher was tempted to let them take a spot on the bench.

  A woman came over and sat next to her.

  She had dirty blonde hair, pale skin, and mascara around her eyes. She was wearing jeans, boots, and a long coat. She wasn’t carrying a purse, and her hands were shoved inside her coat pockets.

  “Detective Fisher?” she said.

  “You are?” Fisher asked.

  “My name is not important, but I have information that might be useful to you.”

  Fisher didn’t appreciate the clandestine way the woman spoke, but she was used to dealing with informants. She would give the woman some leeway before she decided to end the meeting.

  “You said it was about Dillon Scott,” Fisher said.

  The mere mention of his name made the woman scowl. “He’s not who everyone thinks he is.”

  “Then who is he?”

  “He’s a predator who preyed on young women.”

  Fisher didn’t know how to respond.

  “I worked as his publicist until last year, when…”

  She paused and looked away.

  “It’s okay,” Fisher said in a soothing voice. “Whatever you tell me will not leave this bench.” Fisher had worked with sexual assault and domestic violence victims. She knew how hard it was for them to speak up. They feared no one would believe them, or worse, they would be ostracized for coming forward.

  The woman nodded and said, “One day, Dillon called me into his office. He wanted to discuss a photo shoot he had done for an upcoming movie. Gail was also there…”

  “Gail Roberts?” Fisher immediately asked.

  “Yes, she was his assistant at the time.” The woman shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe what happened to Gail. She was such a wonderful person.”

  “When you went to the office, what happened?” Fisher asked.

  “I went in when Dillon asked Gail to go home for the day. I didn’t think it was odd. I figured she had something to do. After she was gone, we spent half an hour going through the photos, but I could sense something was different. I had been alone with Dillon before, and he was always professional, but that day he asked me personal questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “He asked if I had a boyfriend, how many guys I had been with, and if I found him attractive. Really inappropriate stuff, you know? I tried to focus on the task, but then he suddenly put his hand on my leg. He then told me he liked me. I don’t remember what I had told him, but I knew I didn’t like that he was touching me.” The woman choked up. “Before I knew what happened, he was on top of me. It was all a blur after that. I remember being in sho
ck. I didn’t know why he would do such a thing. I admired him a lot.”

  “Did you go to the police?”

  She shook her head. “He warned me not to. He said if I did, he would tell them I had seduced him. He was rich and famous, so it was common for women to want to sleep with him.”

  “Did you tell anyone what happened?” Fisher asked.

  EIGHTY-SIX

  “I told Gail the next day,” the woman replied. “I had never seen her so angry. She told me to go to the police, but again, I remembered what he had told me, and I was worried it would be his word against mine. But Gail said she would go with me to the police. She would corroborate my story. She would even contact a reporter and have her dig into Dillon’s past. If he had done this to me, he must have done it to other girls.”

  Fisher mulled this over. Cameron Kilgane had received an anonymous call regarding Scott. She always assumed it was about the blackmail, but it was really about the sexual assaults.

  The woman said, “Before we could go to the police, Gail had her accident.”

  Fisher now had a feeling it was no accident. Someone wanted her gone.

  “I then quit as Dillon’s publicist, but before I left, I signed a non-disclosure agreement. I was paid a lot of money to keep my mouth shut about the incident.”

  “Who gave you the money?”

  “Brad Kirkman, Dillon’s business partner.”

  Fisher’s brow furrowed. Both Scott and Kirkman had alibis for the time Gail died. She then said, “You shouldn’t have signed the non-disclosure or taken the money. It was his way of silencing you.”

  “I know, and I’m ashamed for taking it, but it was more money than I had ever seen at the time. I just wanted this nightmare behind me.”

  After a moment of silence, Fisher asked, “Why are you coming forward now?”

  “Once we heard you had a suspect in custody, we wanted the world to know who Dillon Scott really was.”

  “We?” Fisher asked. “There are other women?”