by K. C. Turner
“Hey, a girl can dream, right?”
Chapter 12
Exhausted after a long day, Elizabeth pulled down the gravel driveway to the lake house looking forward to a glass of wine and an evening with Martinez, even though he was bringing work with him. Grabbing her bag from the passenger seat she exited her vehicle and headed to the steps leading to the screened in porch when she heard a clanking noise. Cautiously, she crept to the door.
“Son of a bitch! You mother -”
“Uncle Bill! What on earth are you doing? You scared the crap outta me!” Entering the porch she ran to his aid. He was in the entry to the house, the door wide open, fiddling with something on the inside wall next to the door. His tools spread out all over the welcome mat.
“Hey baby girl! Grab me that Phillips-head, will ya? It fell over there in the corner somewhere.”
Looking in the corner of the porch under a table holding a potted plant, she found the screwdriver and handed it to him. “Honestly, Bill, what the hell are you doing?” Squeezing past him, she tossed her bag on the dining room table.
Grunting while he tightened the screws he said, “What I should have done before you ever moved back into this house.” He moved away from the small white box secured to the wall. “Making sure you don’t have any intruders. I’m a little too old to make it here as quickly as I need to if you have any trouble. This system here is gonna help both of us out.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a cloth from his back pocket. “You got any cold beer in the fridge?”
Walking towards the kitchen she said, “You know, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I don’t think it’s necessary.” She pulled a couple beers out of the fridge and popped the tops off, handing one of the bottles to him.
Bill looked at it sideways. “What the hell is this? Corona?” He uttered a profanity under his breath before hesitantly taking a swig. “And I don’t wanna hear no bullshit. I got a call from Martinez. Said we got a little problem on our hands with Robinson being released this week. I’m not taking any chances with that bastard.” He handed her a piece of paper. “This is the code you enter to turn the alarm on and shut it off. It’s your parent’s anniversary. Figured it was the easiest number for you to remember. Better than your birthday, which I’m sure that asshole has branded into his sick head.”
The sound of popping gravel stopped Elizabeth from arguing with him. She sighed deeply grabbing the piece of paper from him. Hearing footsteps come onto the porch they both walked out to meet Martinez.
Sticking out his right hand, Martinez said, “Good to see you again, Red.”
He wiped his hand off on his beat up jeans before gripping Martinez’s hand tightly. “How you doing, Son? Just finishing up with getting that security system in.”
“Nice! Did it give you any trouble?”
Bill shook his head. “No trouble at all. Piece of cake.”
Elizabeth studied Martinez intently and a shadow of flirtatious annoyance crossed her face. “So, I hear you had something to do with this?”
Bill guzzled down his beer and set the empty bottle on the wicker table. “Well, on that note, I think it’s time for me to head home. Martinez, I’m sure you can show Liz how to use it?”
Nodding his head he said, “Of course.” He looked at her and gave her a crooked smile.
“All right then,” said Bill. Let’s do dinner again real soon.” He kissed Elizabeth on the cheek and whispered, “Go easy on ‘im, kid. And get some real beer will ya?”
Bill walked out and shut the screen door behind him. Elizabeth curled her first finger and motioned for Martinez to follow her into the dining room. Hanging his head, he complied. He shut the door behind him and set his folder on the table. “Look, Liz...”
She put up her hand. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Thinking he was being let off easy, he sat down and pulled out the phone records. Elizabeth went to the living room and pulled out a couple albums, placing them strategically on the turntable in the order she wanted to hear them. Phil Collins began ringing through the room. She walked back into the dining room and sat at the head of the table. “So, what do we got?”
Sighing he said, “Alright, well, I got the phone records for Brandon and Pam for the previous few weeks prior to her death. I’m guessing they have something to tell us.”
Grabbing her shoulder bag from the middle of the table, she pulled out a legal pad and a pen. Pushing her hair behind her left ear she said, “Okay, so, lets start from the beginning.”
He sat back in the chair for a moment. “Just so you know, I’m sorry Peggy was brought into this.
She stopped herself from looking at the first page of records. “Actually, now that you bring it up, I wonder if I should even be helping you with this.”
“Holden didn’t really have a problem with us being there today. But he did say he was under an obligation to tell Peggy due to whoever made that call.”
“Yeah, well, I’m already on her shit list. She seems to think I’m over stepping my boundaries.” She pursed her lips and jerked her head a bit, her eyes rolling in the same direction.
“I’m sorry, Liz.”
“It’s not your fault. Honestly,” she began lip-syncing to the song playing in the background, ‘I Don’t Care Anymore.’
His lips curled into a devious smile. “For the record, I told Holden it was no different than if I took someone on a ride-along. He was cool about it. Said he was going to explain it to Marilyn the same way. I doubt she would have as big a problem with it as Peggy. I just told him what was up. I value your opinion, Liz, and sometimes you see things that the average person wouldn’t see.”
She scratched her head and smiled at his flattery. “Okay, so, as China would say, screw Peggy. Let’s get on with it shall we?”
After thumbing through the pages for over an hour, studying the phone numbers and text messages, they managed to nail down five numbers that were regularly used. Two of the numbers consisted of Brandon and Pamela DeFranco. A third number was linked back to Jim West. Until further confirmation, one number that continuously called and texted Pam was assumed to belong to Damian Burk. The remaining number, linked to Brandon’s phone, was set to the side for future reference.
Elizabeth rubbed her forehead to relieve the headache that was starting to form from the base of her neck. She looked at Martinez who was still studying a page from his stack. Her hand moved from her head to her shoulders, digging her fingers deep into her trapezius muscle to relieve the built up stress. She twisted her neck from side to side. “Are you hungry? Chinese sounds awesome right now.”
Martinez sat back in his chair. “Yeah, we should probably take a break, huh?”
Getting up from the table, Elizabeth took a stack of menus out of the junk draw in the kitchen. “Okay, China Dragon it is. Do you prefer Chinese or Thai?”
“Both sound great. How ‘bout we get a few dishes and share? As long as you get at least one meat dish for me. I don’t wanna be starving in a couple hours.”
She winked at him as she dialed a number from her phone. Once she had placed the order, she hung up and said, “Alright, should be here in 30 minutes or so.”
Martinez stood up and placed his hands together behind his back to stretch his back and triceps. He sat back down and said, “Since we have a little time, there’s something we should talk about.”
She took a deep breath. “Come on,” she said as she titled her head back. “Seriously?”
“Liz, it’s not just gonna go away.”
Becoming defensive she said, “Apparently not. Cheese and Rice! You were able to get my uncle over here to install a frigin’ security system.”
“He cares about you, Liz. And from what he told me, he wanted to do it long before you moved back in here.”
“Not the point, Martinez.” She circled the table. “God, half the time I feel like I have no control over any of these decisions, let alone being made aware they are even being
contemplated.”
He rested his head in shame. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I was afraid if I did, you would shut me down without hearing me out, just like you’re doing now.”
Guilt swept over her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to shut you out. I just – Over the past couple years I just started to feel like I was in control of my life again, ya know? And you and Bill stepping in like this just feels like I’m losing control again. I don’t wanna be a burden to anybody, Angel. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m well aware of that, Liz. However, there are people who care about you and would do anything for you.”
“Then please involve me next time. I lived for a long time feeling like I didn’t have a choice. At least give me that.”
“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing,”
“It’s not that it’s right or wrong, Angel. I appreciate it. I really do. But this is my house and my life. I think I should be the ultimate decision maker.”
A wave of sympathy crossed his face. “I can understand that.” Looking up from his shameful retreat, he asked, “So is this a bad time to bring up a protection order?”
“Seriously, Martinez?”
“Liz, he’s getting out Friday. I’m just worried about you. Red’s worried about you. China is worried about you! How is it that you, the one person truly affected, seem to have no concerns about this?”
“Of course I’m concerned. I’m just trying not to stress too much about it. For God’s sake, if Steve Robinson wants to get to me, don’t you think he will do just that?”
Martinez became stiff, his presence warrior-like. “We don’t have to make it easy for him.”
There was a knock at the door. Their food had arrived. Elizabeth grabbed her wallet from her bag and answered the door paying the man, tipping him generously. “Thank you so much!” Returning to the table she placed the bags in front of them.
Martinez began removing the small boxes of food from the bag and placing them on the table. “You know, you were wrong.”
She became defensive. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t need to place your address on a Civil Protection Order.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“China told me why you didn’t want to do the protection order. You don’t need an address.”
Elizabeth was growing more irritated. “Is that right?”
Finding the pepper steak and fried rice, he dug in with his chopsticks. His mouth full he said, “That’s right, Miss Strong.”
Grabbing the box of Shrimp lo mein, she said, “Do tell, Detective.”
“I checked out the statute for a CPO. You only need to provide an address of where you want the defendant to keep himself from. Meaning, he doesn’t know where you live. Therefore, no need to include it. He knows where you work, Liz. So you put your work address. That simple.”
“That simple, huh? Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?”
Immediately after she asked the question, the Rolling Stones, Wild Horses, began playing on the stereo. Martinez put his chop sticks in his little white box and stood before her. He reached out his hand and she accepted. She put down her food and allowed him to pull her in close. As the song played, they swayed to the music. He whispered in her ear, “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”
As the song ended, they pulled away from each other and he kissed her lightly on the mouth. ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’ began to play. He looked deep into her blue eyes. “We’re not trying to take your choice away, Liz. We’re just trying to get ahead of the game and help.”
“I get it.” Her arms circled his neck. “Just make sure I’m a part of next time, will ya?”
His nose swiped across hers. He felt the warmth of her breath. “I’ll always be here for you. I’m sorry if my protective side got away from me.”
Shrugging her shoulders she gave in, “It’s okay. I get it. Kind of.” Pulling away, she sat back in her chair. “Anywho! Back to Pam DeFranco.”
He sat down attempting to cover up the look of defeat on his face. “Absolutely. So. Here we are, the day of her death. There is a text message just like Brandon said. He received a text from Pam at 8:32 pm saying she was going to her sister’s house.”
Elizabeth studied the page in her hand. “That’s the last text sent from her phone. There’s a bunch of missed calls after that. Looks like that was the last time she talked to anyone. However, before she sent the text to his phone, she received a text at 7:48 from his number asking her to meet him at their favorite place. But, I’m just curious why it reads differently than the rest of them.”
“Really? Let me see that.”
She got up, moved around the corner of the table, and stood next to him placing the paper in front of him. “Look,” she said pointing her finger where she wanted him to read. “That’s his number, right?”
Martinez glanced back and forth between the two phone records. “That’s his number all right. Son of a bitch. He met her, they have a fight; he kills her and then sends the text to himself from her phone. The timing works. They meet at say eight o’clock, half an hour is plenty of time for him to take care of her, dump her body in the lake, and send a text. Then he tosses her phone in behind her. That’s why we never found it.”
“Not quite. Look at the number in brackets right below his.”
The excitement in his voice dissipated. “Well what the hell does that mean?” He shoved the paper out of frustration.
Sitting back down in her chair, she replied, “I’m not sure really.” She lifted her right foot and rested it on the seat before she began looking over the phone records again. “That’s the first time that number pops up anywhere.”
“For crying out loud. This case has been nothing but a dead end from the get go.” He sat back and grabbed a take-out box plunging the chopsticks into the food, contemplating whether he could stomach another bite.
“Maybe not.” She jumped up from her seat and went to the living room to fish for her laptop. Grabbing it from the end table she excitedly sat back down at the dining room table and opened the screen. She turned on the airport, opened Chrome, and began typing in the search box. “I once read an article on a third party app someone created that allowed you to text or call any one, from any phone number, and you could choose which number showed up on the recipients phone.”
Curious, he asked, “What the hell are you talking about, Liz?”
Finding the article she became excited. “No, seriously...” She flipped the laptop around and set it in front of him. “Check it out.”
Upon skimming through the article he said, “Well I’ll be a son of a bitch.”
“Exactly.” She sat in her chair, proud of herself. “Find the owner of that number, and you find whoever lured Pam to the docks that night.”
“And this is exactly why Peggy Cabot can go screw herself.” He stood from his seated position and grabbed the arms of her chair, leaning over her possessively. “What do you say we take this in the other room?”
Chapter 13
The drive into the bureau Wednesday morning was sticky and Martinez couldn’t wait to sit in the air-conditioning. After the previous day had been quite uneventful and full of paperwork, he was anxious for things to begin churning again. With Shawn out of the office for the day, he was hoping to quietly get some work done. He sat down at his computer and opened his email. The cell phone company returned his email regarding his request for the owner of the phone number found on Pam’s phone record.
“Hot damn!” Quickly opening it in hopes of having a name, his excitement diminished when he read the number belonged to Marshal Media Corporation. Although they did confirm it was sent via a third party application that allows a person to send a text to any number with the allusion of coming from a specific contact. “For God’s sake,” he said as he shook his head from side to side. He looked at the phone number again. I could just call the damn number. Nah, that would be
a waste of time. No one would give me any information. Then again… Screw it.
He picked up the receiver to his office phone and dialed the number. It rang a few times before going to voicemail with a generic recording. After hanging up the phone he moved on to his computer and went straight to Google to search when his office phone rang. “Detective Martinez.”
“Hello, this is Damian Burk. You’ve been trying to contact me?”
“Mr. Burk! Yes, yes I have.” Martinez fumbled around his desk for a pen and pad of paper. “Thank you for returning my call. I was hoping you could come down to the station to answer some questions regarding Pam DeFranco.” Glancing over at the caller ID he wrote down the phone number Damian called from.
“I don’t think so. You can ask me some questions, but now’s your chance. Take it or leave it.”
“Okay, let me start by asking how you knew Mrs. DeFranco?”
“We worked together at Creative Industries.”
“Was your relationship strictly professional?’
“If your asking me that question, I assume you already know the answer.”
“Look, Mr. Burk, I’m just trying to find out what happened to Pam. If you cared about her, I would think you would want to help in whatever way you could. Unless, of course, you have a guilty conscious.”
There was a long pause and Damian sighed. “Pam and I worked together for about three years. We started seeing each other about a year ago.”
“Did Mr. DeFranco know about the two of you?”
“She recently told him. I know he was pissed. She also found out she was pregnant not long ago.”
“Did she tell her husband about the pregnancy?”
“I know she was planning on it. Whether or not she got around to it, I don’t know.”
“Do you know who the father was?”
“Pam told me it was mine. She said she hadn’t slept with Brandon in a few months. Honestly, it didn’t matter to me who the father was. Pam and I were going to raise the baby together. It was mine regardless of some stupid test.”
