Threads of Suspicion

by Dee Henderson

  Evie chuckled, liking this PI’s take on things, and David smiled in agreement.

  “He was working for Nathan Lewis, the case I just mentioned. Saul’s notebook—‘Stabbed once and walk away? This was never intended to be a murder. That’s how it looks to me. Not sure how that helps the husband, given how he’s grieving. Look for area robbery attempts; do it quietly, maybe find an answer there.’”

  “A reasonable guess, given stabbed once does seem like an unusual murder MO,” Evie noted.

  “I agree. Which at the margins lowers the odds Saul found, and was killed, by a guy who didn’t intend to commit murder in the first place.”

  “True. Case number four?”

  “Saul was looking to find a Neil Wallinski, age sixty-eight, the estranged brother of a Carl Wallinski. The brothers had a falling-out over the settlement of their father’s estate. Saul’s notebook—‘Neil has lived in VA, KS, CO, WY, FL, NY . . . no wonder every PI who agreed to look gave up. Maybe staying ahead of ex-wives wanting to garnish wages? I think he’s back in IL and just ignoring his brother.’”

  “That one sounds promising just because it’s such unusual behavior. He had a diverse set of active cases.”

  “Saul got around.” David finished his eggs and opened the orange juice. “I want to talk with Saul’s sister today, also with Nathan Lewis, start working down the list of people with motive to want him dead, see if I can jar something loose.”

  “I’m going to meet up with Ann,” Evie told him, “canvass the college and surrounding area, interview Jenna’s best friend and her boyfriend. I’m going to avoid doing a formal interview with her family until I know which direction to take my questions.”

  “Think something might be there?”

  Evie shrugged. “No reason to think so, but I like having an unexpected theory tucked in my back pocket. Family interviews are inevitably so emotional, it helps occasionally to view them as possible suspects, otherwise I end up just wanting to cry along with them.”

  David considered that, and her, for a long moment. “I’m intrigued to know you, Evie. No wonder Sharon mentioned you were able to hold the unexpected in mind when working a case. I kind of like that approach, as goodness knows family can be capable of any crime under the sun, even when they appear to have a perfect exterior.” He gathered up his breakfast debris. “Thanks for the break. I needed this.”

  “It’s a nice way to begin a workday—we should make this part of the schedule.”

  “I’m all for that. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” David headed back to the conference room, mug in hand. Evie turned toward the nearest computer to check her email, see what of interest might have happened overnight. Her state job would intrude soon, but maybe she’d get another full day on her cold case before something pulled her away. The college had emailed her several of the requested reports. Evie sent the material to the printer. Nothing else required urgent attention.

  She started making calls to set up interviews. She was able to schedule one with Jenna’s best friend in person, secured one by video with the boyfriend when he got off work this evening, and was feeling confident enough about matters that she took a deep breath and dialed Jenna’s parents.

  “Mrs. Greenhill, this is Lieutenant Evie Blackwell, with the Missing Persons Task Force. Detective Newcrest said he spoke with you yesterday. I’m so sorry your daughter’s case remains open. Would now be a good time to have a short conversation?”

  Evie settled deeper in the chair and prepared to mostly listen.

  Six

  David returned while Evie finished up a call with Jenna’s academic advisor. When he shook off his coat but didn’t go to the conference room, she nudged her bowl of sweet-tarts toward him, got a smile of thanks as he took one and sat down.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Cline,” she said into her phone. “Yes, I’ll call if I have more questions. I appreciate your time.” Evie clicked off with relief. The woman loved to talk.

  It wasn’t hard to read David’s expression. “That bad?”

  “Yeah. I should have taken you along for the interview with Saul’s sister. You would have melted. Cynthia Morris, forty-two, single mom with a teenage son. She made a point to let me know right off that she and Saul were stepsiblings—his dad married her mother. Then she gave me an hour on how good a brother Saul was. He stayed in her life even after the two parents divorced, his dad married yet again, and there was yet another set of steps for Saul to deal with.”

  “Loyal, caring.”

  David nodded. “He’d stay at her place if he was working on that side of town, be the uncle to her son, play some ball, be a good influence. He was there the week he went missing, came by that Sunday night, stayed until Wednesday morning.”

  David opened his notebook and read aloud, “‘He was in a mellow mood, not particularly busy with work, said he’d just finished a couple of long involved matters. For him, he was flush with cash, insisted on getting some repairs done while he was around, had the plumber out, got my car battery replaced. Being a nice brother.’”

  “Oh, man,” Evie said softly.

  “Yeah. He mentioned to Cynthia he had a meeting with a client in South Harbor that Wednesday afternoon and thought he might hit a concert in Arlington Heights if he had time that evening. I’ve confirmed he had a ticket purchased for the concert on his credit-card statement. It’s not clear he attended the concert, but a receipt on Thursday morning puts him at a gas station well north, in Gurnee. Cops at the time confirmed with security-camera footage it was in fact Saul using that credit card and that he was alone—their assumption is that he’d traveled north for work. After that the trail is stone cold. It’s going to be his job that is the source of this. But family, particularly Cynthia, takes the brunt of his absence without a trace.”

  “That’s the toughest kind of interview.”

  David put away the notebook. “It wasn’t as emotional as you would expect, but very sad. She knows he’s dead. She just wants answers, to be able to give Saul a fitting funeral.”

  Evie thought it would help David to talk about the rest of it. “What else did she say? I need to get my head away from Jenna occasionally, think about something else.”

  David smiled. “Now you’re just being kind. You’ve really got a few minutes for this?”

  “I do.”

  “Cynthia was worth the time.” He took his notebook out again and read a few more notes. “He was into his cars, sports, liked baseball, would often go to a club to listen to live music, loved jazz, would attend a concert every few months just to enjoy the crowds. He was the guy every lady should marry, but no one ever did.

  “Saul loved his work. He loved the puzzle of it, the search for how to answer the question were it an affair, stealing from their boss, or lying on their résumé. He considered it to be a good service to society, keeping people honest. The PI work came naturally to him. He liked people, could walk into any environment and be comfortable there.

  “His motto was ‘Follow the people, find the crime.’ He’d be out on stakeouts, following people all hours of the day and night. He knew this city and its suburbs like the back of his hand. He’d hire taxi drivers to help him out, and sometimes borrow business vehicles from friends—a landscape truck, flower-delivery van, or a plumber’s truck.

  “Saul wasn’t a particularly physical man, out to win every fistfight he might get into, but he could disarm tense situations and avoid altercations. If he couldn’t disarm, couldn’t simply leave, he’d throw the dirty punch and knock the guy out, or smash him with a bottle—he would fight to end it fast, wasn’t going to be polite about it.”

  “That’s useful to know,” Evie observed.

  “It is. She understood his personality and that’s what’s most valuable to me. She painted a picture so I can see him.” David scanned the rest of his notes. “A couple more personal ones . . . she told me Saul was never going to be a wealthy man, he had too many people he’d slip a hundred dollars to when they were down o
n their luck, too many friends who needed help. He was generous of spirit, assumed you would get yourself on your feet again, believed you could.

  “He was looking for a new apartment, a place where he could have a dog. He could live anywhere and it was time for a change, he told her.

  “‘He’d brought this puzzle box over,’ she said, ‘one of those thousand-piece marathons—a Norman Rockwell painting of baseball players in a locker room. He’d set up a card table by the living room window and be hard at it when I got home from work. He wasn’t the type to simply walk out of his life, leave things behind, leave his dreams. He wasn’t a wealthy man, didn’t have all the breaks go his way in life, but he was a good brother. A very good brother. He didn’t just disappear on me.’”

  David closed his notebook. “She loved Saul. And if he made that kind of lasting impression on her, chances are good his friends are going to have the same perspectives. This wasn’t a family dispute that went wrong, probably not even a personal one.”

  “The rest of his family? She mentioned more stepsibs.”

  “Scattered across the nation now; Cynthia is the only one within a hundred miles he saw regularly.”

  “The jigsaw puzzle is interesting,” Evie remarked. “He was doing some thinking.”

  David nodded. “I thought the same, hence the written quote. A nice diversion, a puzzle, something to have in his hands while Saul lets his mind mull over another matter. I’d love to know what he was thinking about. I haven’t come across a client being billed during that last week.”

  “Maybe one of the suspended cases, working it on his own time. Or a personal matter, something he wants to solve for a friend. A good-deed kind of case?” Evie proposed.

  “That would fit him,” David said, thoughtful. “He was working a puzzle, figuratively and literally, thinking through how to approach a problem. The question is, did it get him killed or did something more prosaic happen?” He raised a shoulder. “Something as random as looking for someone that put him in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  “The fact his car also disappeared seems as relevant a clue as anything else you have. It could have been a murder, and then an ordinary street thief takes the car that’s been sitting for a day or two in a tempting part of town. But when no car gets found, no body, that tends to say they were disposed of by the same person. You’ll find a lead somewhere, David, and figure this out.”

  David smiled. “Optimism is appreciated. I’m certainly going to try.” He pushed to his feet. “Thanks for listening.”

  “You chose the right case, David. You’ve got the patience to talk with a lot of people—which is a good thing, given your whiteboard is about ready to fall off the wall it’s so crowded with names.”

  David laughed as she had hoped. “I’ll be doing some talking to people,” he agreed. “I came back to pull the files of those who most likely would want him dead and then I’ll be heading out again.”

  Evie set her phone alarm for her next interview, then turned her attention back to the four boxes of case material. Personal items first, she decided, and opened box two.

  The nice thing about people’s habits is that they leave trails, she thought—notes, lists, receipts, phone numbers. She picked up Jenna’s purse, spread its contents on the desk, then opened Jenna’s wallet. Library card, student ID, health-insurance card, a dentist’s business card, an insurance agent with a renter policy number written on it. The checkbook showed occasional checks to a church, her landlord, the student-union bookstore.

  Evie pulled out the less-organized bits and pieces in the front of the wallet. A reminder note to call Susan about volleyball, a Post-it note with a phone number and the name Chad, the time and place for a study group meeting, a diner’s receipt for a chef’s salad and Diet Coke. And then Evie stopped sorting items. She was holding a ticket stub with a swirling stack of cursive M’s, a creative logo she immediately recognized. “David.”

  Her voice had enough urgency that he immediately appeared in the doorway. “What is it, Evie?”

  She held it up. “My missing college student was at a Triple M concert the night she disappeared. I’m holding the ticket stub.”

  A long silence as he looked at the pink rectangle and then the whiteboard. “Tell me the date again.”

  She looked at the stub. “October 17, 2007.”

  “I was there,” he said. “I’ll never forget that date. I was onstage with Maggie for a few minutes at the end of that concert. It was the night of the car crash.”

  Evie didn’t know how to respond. Maggie was a Chicago native, had come to stardom because the local college crowds loved her—this was one of the coincidences that came up in cases, histories overlapping. But it hit hard.

  David dropped into a chair. “I can probably tell you a bit more about that night. It’s not a concert I’m ever going to forget.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Evie. The date on your case should have triggered the connection. I should have realized it had to have been a Triple M concert.”

  “I didn’t think about that possibility either.”

  She handed him the ticket stub, its date still readable. He turned it over in his hand, a man lost in thought. He finally looked over at her, returned the ticket. “Maggie played concerts in college towns across the Midwest during those years. Does this help solve what happened to your Jenna?”

  “I dislike coincidences. But they are usually just that. The fact we’re looking into this case years later, and you happen to be dating Maggie? That’s a random coincidence. Similarly, the fact it was the night of the accident with enormous impact on both of you. Lives do intersect, even in high-population cities like Chicago.” Evie paused. “But what are the odds if Jenna was at that concert, her killer was also?”

  “College crowd, college-student victim, college-age killer?” he suggested with a nod. “That seems like a reasonable direction.”

  “Someone selected her at the concert, followed her home, did her harm,” Evie stated. “The venue is just blocks from where she lived, an easy walking distance on a comfortable night. A mostly college-age crowd, a lot of others heading back toward campus would have walked those same blocks, it’s not so obvious she’s being followed.”

  “If it was a college student, you’d figure the cops would have solved it by now,” David said. “It’s hard to leave no evidence behind, but from what you’ve said already, there isn’t much to work with along this line.”

  “Agreed.” Evie hesitated to bring up a theory, but it seemed appropriate now. “Or go a different direction,” she offered. “Someone from the band she might have been interested in? They met up later that night after the concert is over?”

  He didn’t immediately shake his head. “I knew Maggie’s band members, her sound guys. The stage crew not as well, as they would shift around depending on the venue. The band was beginning to pay its own way. They were making enough to draw a salary, small, but it was a paycheck. Eight men and women were the core of it back then—band, sound, a manager. I can get you a list of names. With the star-struck attention from fans, I’m sure there were more than a few phone numbers exchanged between fans and crew. Most of that core group were single then.”

  “You said band members have changed over the years? Sound guys?”

  “Five of the original group were still with Maggie. Lives go different directions, and the travel, the concert life, are only glamorous from the outside. It takes a toll on marriages and on kids. And the crowds have decided there’s one star on the stage, the rest are simply the support cast. It can hit your ego when the spotlight doesn’t shine on you, but on the one you’re making look good.”

  “I’m beginning to see why you went to New York to be Maggie’s main security guy.”

  David smiled. “There are always dynamics going on between members working together. Maggie has been lucky over the years to mostly work with people who can wisely handle what they’ve signed on to. The money differential is also prominent—they al
l do well, but she’s the famous voice.” He leaned back, thinking, finally shook his head. “Evie, I may have liked some of those around her more than others, but I can’t say any one of them ever stood out as a concern. These are guys Maggie worked with, and I spent a lot of time around them, with a cop’s instincts for when something was off. They might have connected up with fans, but murder? That’s a mind-set that doesn’t play with what I know about them.”

  He considered it further and shook his head again. “Her security crew, they’re mostly former cops, retired military. Even in the early days, security at a concert venue was tight. As the fame grew, security traveling with them became part of her life. These are guys who don’t look the other way when a band member or sound person crosses the line. I might hear about it before Maggie would, but I would know what’s going on around her, around her band members. We don’t take chances with her or her reputation. If there was something off with a long-term member of her group, I have to think I would have seen it.”

  Evie thought that rang true. David would have seen it—a guy loving Maggie the way he did wasn’t one to be careless about details. She took the conversation another direction. “Any chance there are photos of the crowd that night, anything left around from that evening?”

  “Maggie was working with a publicist by then, so there would be photos for marketing purposes that might still be in the archives. And Maggie keeps a scrapbook for herself, adds to it from every concert. She likely has a few images.”

  “I think the concert was the opportunity,” Evie suggested. “Jenna was away from her place until late, she was out and about, in a good mood, not cocooned in studying. She made herself accessible that night. Any concert would have been the trigger. It just happened to be Triple M playing that night.”

  David gave a small nod, accepted her attempt to lighten the connection, but then blew out a long breath. “I don’t take prayer lightly, Evie, and I said more than one before I made my decision to join this task force. It’s probably not chance that this is the county I selected or the case you picked. I’ll think back on that time, see if I can come up with anything that might be useful. But let’s not tell Maggie about it when you meet her. I’d rather not give her this kind of news to think about—not yet.”