Lady on the Edge

by Ray Flynt

  “Mr. Slatpin, this is Brad Frame. I’m a private detective from Philadelphia. I’ve been consulting with Amanda Carothers, a local artist.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of her,” Slatpin said.

  “Her son Dana died four years ago. His death was ruled a suicide.” Brad chose his words carefully. As his mentor Nick Argostino had pointed out, South Carolina was way outside his jurisdiction. He wasn’t licensed in the state, and didn’t want legal action to jeopardize his practice in Pennsylvania. “Amanda’s asked me to take another look at the case. It’s a long story, but I made a few inquiries on her behalf, including talking with her surviving son, Denton. But now he has filed a lawsuit alleging harassment, and Amanda and I have been summoned to a show cause hearing next Wednesday. I’d like you to represent me and was hoping you’d have time to meet with me on Monday.”

  “Let me look at my schedule,” Slatpin said. “Would 10 a.m. work for you?”

  “Yes.” It surprised Brad that he hadn’t asked for more details.

  “Very well, I’ll see you then.” Slatpin provided the address before ending the call.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As Brad arrived at Harbour Town he pulled into a vacant spot and climbed out of the car. He opened the door for Beth, helping her out, and gave her a big hug as she was about to kick off her shopping expedition. She beamed. “Have lots of fun,” he told her. “I’ll look forward to seeing you later.”

  With Sharon now riding shotgun, Brad headed for Bob Kepner’s architectural office. Sharon input the address into the car’s navigational system, but Brad already had a pretty good idea where he’d find the contemporary glass-covered office building. Traffic had picked up from what he’d experienced earlier in the week, and he figured the warm temperatures had drawn a sizable number of weekend visitors to the Hilton Head beaches.

  “Somebody from Jersey must have designed these roads,” Sharon said, referring to the traffic circle, which Brad knew was one of her pet peeves. “They’re so confusing,” she added. “I never know quite what lane to be in.”

  Brad spotted the turn just before Sharon shouted, “There it is.” He steered into the nearly deserted lot and found a shady parking spot, and they walked to the entry.

  Brad pulled on the glass door, but it wouldn’t budge. He peered in and saw an empty receptionist’s desk but no one in sight. The afternoon sun beat down and reflected off the building. Brad expected to wilt fast.

  “Let’s try this,” Sharon said. Brad watched as she fussed with an intercom mounted to the left of the entry door. She repeatedly pushed a button, but had no response.

  Brad reached for his phone, deciding to call Kepner’s office number, just as a security guard pushed open the door and admitted them.

  “We have a two o’clock appointment with Bob Kepner,” Brad explained, grateful for the air conditioned comfort of the lobby.

  The guard pointed to a pair of mid-century modern leather chairs. “Wait over there.” After perusing a notebook at the receptionist’s desk, the guard asked, “Who did you say you’re visiting?”

  “Bob Kepner,” Brad repeated, and spelled the last name. “He’s an architect.”

  The guard picked up a phone on the desk, input a number, and Brad heard him say, “You have two visitors.”

  Seconds later he motioned for them to join him at the elevator where he punched in a code, and said, “You’re going to the third floor.”

  As the elevator doors eased open, Brad followed Sharon into a green marble tiled lobby. Directly in front of him stood a wall holding a collage of photos depicting various design projects. A contemporary marble-pedestal glass table served as a receptionist’s desk, with a grouping of furniture nearby.

  No receptionist could be seen.

  They waited patiently for Kepner to appear. Finally, a woman backed her way through a door into the lobby. She tugged a clothesline fastened to the handle of a bucket resting on castors.

  “Aaahhhhh!” she cried, as she turned and spotted the two of them standing there. “I didn’t know anybody was here.” She clutched her chest with both hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Brad said, “we’re waiting for Bob Kepner. He knows we’re here.”

  She squinted. “Mr. Kepner… I saw him. Come, I’ll show you.”

  The cleaning lady led them through a door where Brad saw a sea of cubicles. “That way.” She pointed. “The last one.”

  Brad was struck by the quiet in the space large enough to accommodate at least forty workers. But as he and Sharon padded their way down the carpeted aisle Brad heard a man’s voice shouting, “What the hell do you want me to tell them?” Followed moments later by, “I have no freaking idea what you’re talking about.”

  Sharon said, “Wow.”

  Ahead of them, a man holding a cell phone to his ear rolled his chair into the aisle and stared wide-eyed. Brad assumed it was Bob Kepner, and heard him say into his phone, “Listen, I gotta go.”

  “Ah… Mr. Frame.” He jerkily stood and pocketed his phone. Extending his hand he said, “Bob Kepner. I meant to meet you in the lobby, but got delayed by a call.”

  “Hi, Bob. This is my associate Sharon Porter.”

  Kepner reached for Sharon’s hand and Brad smiled at Bob’s reaction as she provided one of her extra firm handshakes.

  In his preppy beige pants and monogrammed dress shirt, Kepner looked younger than his twenty-six years—the same age Dana would have been had he lived. Amber-colored eyeglass frames brought out the highlights in Kepner’s medium brown hair and eyebrows. His boyish face would have gotten him carded in most Philadelphia bars.

  “Sorry to make you come over here.” Bob aimed a finger at his computer screen. “I’m working on a condo complex, and we’ve a Monday deadline for preliminary designs and cost estimates. The clients are anxious to get started. They’re offering a big bonus, so my boss authorized overtime.” The anger he’d shown in the call earlier had disappeared.

  “Is that a floor plan?” Sharon asked.

  “Yep. Computer design saves a lot of time. For example, there are 143 units in the complex, but only five basic floor plans. Once I tweak this two bedroom plan the way I want it,” Bob referenced the drawing on the screen, “the computer can produce a reverse plan of the same unit so that the master plan looks more interesting.”

  “That’s pretty impressive,” Brad said.

  “And once the plan is input, walls can be added for a three-dimensional view. We can literally walk the client through the space.” Bob beamed as he showed off the technology, but then said, “I’m sure you didn’t come all the way here for a demo in computer-aided architectural design.”

  They all stood at the entry to Bob’s small cubicle, but Brad wasn’t about to let the lack of chairs deter his questioning. “We’d like to ask you—”

  Bob interrupted. “Let’s find a conference room where we can be more comfortable.”

  They walked around the corner to a room with a round table. Once again the walls were papered with photos and drawings of the firm’s work, and Brad imagined that this was where architects met with clients. They each pulled out a chair and sat.

  “Linda told me you’re investigating Dana’s death,” Bob said, with a quizzical expression.

  “An insurance issue has come up,” Brad explained, keeping it short and simple. “We understand from Amanda Carothers that you and Dana were friends.”

  “We’d known each other since high school. Had a lot of the same interests; liked the same music. We both had comic book collections, though I was a much more serious collector. We shared an apartment at the University of South Carolina. I was probably his best friend.”

  “Did you think Dana was capable of suicide?” Sharon asked.

  Brad knew her question was coming, since they’d discussed interview tactics in the car.

  “No. I didn’t,” Bob answered.

  Brad noted how calmly Bob reacted, not a twinge on his face.

  “Any particula
r reason why?” Brad asked.

  “I didn’t see that he had any problems. He was doing well in school, at least as far as I knew. Dana was smart, well-liked by everybody, and didn’t seem to be the type to do something crazy like that. The guy had talent. Some of us have to get by with good looks.” Kepner laughed, but not convincingly enough to keep his ego from showing.

  “Was there anything unusual about Dana’s behavior in the days before he died?”

  “I didn’t see much of him that week. He was home on spring break.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I stayed at the University. That was my home. My parents died in a car crash when I was a senior in high school, and so school was my home.”

  “But I understand you and Linda double-dated with Dana and Kathy Westin on the night before he died.”

  “I usually came down to Bluffton on weekends. I’d either stay at Dana’s, or if Linda’s old lady was in the right mood, I’d stay at her place.”

  “She sounds liberated,” Brad commented.

  Bob threw his head back and laughed. “Loose is a better word to describe Linda’s mom. Linda couldn’t wait to get away from her mother and settle down in a real home of her own. She never knew her father. She had a couple of stepfathers; at least that’s what she was told they were. I always thought they were leeches. They’d stay a couple years and then move on, or get kicked out. I’m not sure which.”

  “You stayed at Linda’s place the weekend Dana died?” Brad asked.

  “Yes. I had an interview that Saturday for a summer job with this firm.”

  “You were a senior when Dana died?” Brad inquired.

  Bob shook his head. “I would have been a senior in a four year program, but the Bachelors in Architecture took five years.”

  Brad glanced at Sharon hoping she could carry the conversation forward, while he concentrated on watching the dynamics.

  Sharon gestured toward the cubicles. “You got the summer job?”

  “Yes. Which turned into a part-time job during my final year in school. I needed the money, since Linda and I got married that summer. Actually, I didn’t really plan it that way.” Bob looked sheepish. “We had to get married, when we found out Bobby was on the way.”

  “Wasn’t it tough, getting married while finishing school?”

  Brad couldn’t reconcile the angry young man he’d heard talking on his cell a few minutes earlier with the calmness Bob displayed while being interviewed by two strangers. He couldn’t help feel that Bob Kepner was being slick.

  “It was tough making ends meet,” Bob said. “Between school assignments, the job, and traveling back and forth to school, I didn’t have a spare minute. My parents left a trust fund for me, but there were only limited benefits until I reached the age of twenty-five. The trustees didn’t want to bend the rules even after I got married. Last year I finally got full access to the fund. Hey…” Bob sounded excited and jumped up. “I’ll be right back.”

  Bob Kepner returned moments later with a sheaf of drawings showing a two-story contemporary house on a tree covered lot with multiple decks and an ocean view. “We signed a contract last week with builders to construct our dream house. I designed it. We hope to move in next March.”

  “Linda told us you bought a lot in Sea Pines,” Sharon said. “Pretty steep for a young architect, isn’t it?”

  “I couldn’t manage without the trust fund,” Bob conceded, setting the drawings aside on the conference table. “It would be another ten years till I could afford this on my own.”

  Perhaps questions about Dana’s death would prompt a change in Bob’s demeanor, Brad thought as he asked, “Where were you when you heard about Dana’s suicide?”

  “Here.” He tapped the conference table. “I’d wrapped up my interview when Linda phoned and told me Kathy Westin had called her with the news.”

  “How well did you know Kathy?”

  “Fairly well, I met her through Dana. The three of us went out together a couple of times. And then later we double-dated.”

  Confused, Brad asked, “Which three of you?”

  “Dana, Kathy and me.”

  “Where was Linda?”

  “It’s a long story, but Linda’s mother kicked me out. After that Linda and I broke up for a while.”

  “So during that time you went out with Dana and Kathy?” Sharon asked.

  Bob Kepner nodded.

  “Menage a trois,” Sharon whispered.

  Brad knew it was for his benefit, but Bob Kepner overheard it and said, “Hey, it wasn’t like that.” It was the strongest reaction Brad had seen from him. “We only got together a couple of times, on the weekends I spent at Dana’s.”

  Sharon surprised Brad when she followed up with, “Were you ever in love with Kathy?”

  Bob turned pale. “No. Not like you’re suggesting. She was more like a sister to me.”

  “On the night before Dana died,” Brad began, “the four of you went to a movie. We heard that Dana seemed distressed during a conversation he had with you that evening. Can you recall the reason for his distress?”

  Bob patted his chest. “I was the one who got upset. Dana was unusually quiet that night, and when we went to buy popcorn I asked what was buggin’ him. He told me he was gonna have to break up with Kathy. I pressed for the reason, and he said I’d know soon enough. I was pissed because I’d never known us to have secrets from each other. I mean, Kathy and Dana were perfect for each other. They’d dated since high school, and everybody figured they’d get married. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.”

  Brad heard Bob’s cell phone ring.

  “Do you recall a confrontation that evening between Dana and his brother?” Brad asked.

  Bob glanced at the phone clipped to his belt. “I wouldn’t call it a confrontation.” Bob’s phone rang again. “Dana’s brother came by when we were having our tense discussion about Kathy... Excuse me a minute, I’d better take this call.”

  Bob stepped out of the conference room.

  Sharon cupped a hand to her ear.

  Between lengthy pauses, Brad could overhear Bob’s end of the conversation.

  “Oh, hi honey. How did Bobby like his party? Who got sick? Will you be able to get the stain out of the sofa? Yeah, they’re here. No, I’ll probably be working until at least nine. No. You’re the only call I’ve had.”

  It was clear he was talking with Linda. Brad wondered why he’d lied to her saying she was his only call.

  Brad continued to listen. “Who called? Huh… No, just interesting, that’s all. All right, sweetie. Listen, I gotta go. Love you, too. Bye.”

  Returning to the conference room, Bob Kepner said, “Sorry about that, where were we?”

  “You were telling us about Dana’s brother,” Brad reminded him.

  “Right. We were having this heavy-duty conversation, when Denton came by and made a half-assed joke. Dana shrugged him off, and Denton got angry and went away muttering. Nothing more than that.”

  “I understand you went to Craig Simmons’ place after the movie.”

  “That’s right.” Bob flashed a smile. “I can see you’ve been talking with people.”

  “How did Dana and Craig get along?” Brad asked.

  “We were roommates. Buddies. All three of us.”

  “Any fights?”

  Bob shook his head. “Not really. Little things. Who used the last of my shaving cream… that kind of stuff.”

  “Can you recall anything significant that may have happened that night at Craig’s?”

  Bob peered at Brad over the top of his glasses and held up his hands in surrender. “I got a little smashed at Craig’s. Okay, I got a lot smashed. I don’t remember much. Sorry.”

  Brad edged forward in his seat. “Amanda Carothers said none of Dana’s friends ever come by to visit. Why not?”

  For the first time in their interview Bob was speechless. Brad saw him swallow hard before he said, “Jesus, I feel
bad about that. We were at her place after the funeral. Linda and I have talked about visiting Amanda lots of times, but something always comes up. Not a good excuse, I’m afraid.”

  Brad pushed back his chair. “We appreciate you seeing us. We’ll let you get back to your work.”

  “No problem. Sorry I wasn’t available yesterday when you stopped by the house.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Brad said, as he stood. “When I called your office yesterday morning, I was told you weren’t in. But when we spoke with Linda, she said you were at work.”

  “I was at work,” Bob sputtered. “Believe me, I was at work. I told the receptionist to tell anyone who called that I was out. Sometimes it’s the only way to get anything accomplished. I’ve got clients who’d keep me tied up on the phone for hours. It’s a fairly common practice around here, especially when we have a priority project.”

  Minutes later they settled back into Brad’s car. Turning to Sharon, Brad asked, “What did you think?”

  “Slick,” she said.

  Brad smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Finding any bargains?” Brad asked when Beth answered her phone.

  “Tons.” She sounded breathless. “I hope you’re not ready to pick me up.”

  “We… actually Sharon, had an idea. She suggested giving you more time to shop, while we proceed to our visit with Amanda, and then meet you at CQ’s for dinner.”

  “That’s perfect.” Beth made kissing sounds into the phone. “Tell Sharon she’s my new best friend.”

  “Great. I’ll make a reservation.”

  After nailing down their dinner plans via his smartphone, Brad steered the car toward Bluffton. Sharon commandeered the radio and found a rock station to her liking. As he crossed the causeway that would take them to the mainland, Brad noticed a steady stream of cars on the two inbound lanes. With late September temperatures reaching a high of eighty-five and the ocean temperatures recorded at seventy-eight degrees the beaches would be full.

  Brad parked behind Amanda’s van in her driveway just as she and her neighbor, Jim Westin, walked out her front door.