by Mike Markel
“What do you want to do next?” I said to Ryan.
He sighed. “Well, I guess we could find out if Aaron Montgomery really went to Cornell.”
“I bet he was down at Clemson with Carol Winters and Suzannah Collins.”
“Could be,” Ryan said.
“How about this?” I said. “He’s down there, starts seeing Suzannah Collins—”
“The real one, or the one he married?”
“I’m guessing both. He starts out with the real one, but she sounds kinda boring, you know?”
“You mean, a good student, straight shooter?”
“Exactly,” I said. “Kind of like you. So he switches over to Carol Winters.”
“You figure he makes the switch before the car accident?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “As long as we’re making him a bastard, let’s have him switch over after the car accident. Suzannah’s all busted up, then she loses the leg and strokes out.”
“That would make him a real bastard,” Ryan said.
I put my elbows on my desk and rested my head in my palms. “Why are we wasting our time on this shit?”
“I think the chief would call this police work. If you’ve got a better idea—”
My cell rang. I opened it up and answered. “Seagate.”
“Detective, this is Aaron Montgomery.”
“Yes, Mr. Montgomery, what can I do for you?” I raised my eyebrows at Ryan as I hit Speaker.
“I’m worried about Suzannah.” He did sound scared.
“Why is that, sir?”
“Suzannah didn’t come home last night, I mean, after she was finished at the university.”
“Is that unusual, Mr. Montgomery?” A somewhat obnoxious question, given that she was the guy’s wife and not his girlfriend, but I was okay with him knowing he wasn’t exactly my favorite person at the moment.
There was silence, as if he didn’t want to lie to me, although I didn’t get why that would bother him since everything else he had told us was a lie. “I’ve tried her a number of times—all through the night—and she didn’t pick up.”
“She usually keeps her phone on?”
“She always keeps her phone on. Because of Adam. In case I need to reach her.”
“All right, Mr. Montgomery. Don’t let your imagination get away from you. She’s probably fine. Maybe her phone’s not working.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Detective. She would’ve called me. There’s something wrong, I know it.”
“Let’s stay calm, Mr. Montgomery. We get missing-persons calls literally every day, and they turn out to be simple misunderstandings. Where are you now, sir?”
“I’m at home, with Adam.”
“All right, you stay there. Detective Miner and I will be out there in ten minutes. We’ll take all your information and work out a plan. Does that sound okay?”
“Yes, Detective, thank you. Please hurry, though.”
“Ten minutes.” I ended the call.
Ryan said, “How do you read this?”
I shook my head. “Not sure,” I said. “He’s a liar, so I assume there’s some kind of lie in what he said. I just don’t know what his angle is.”
“He’s trying to lead us on a goose chase for some reason.”
“Why?” I said.
“I don’t know. Maybe just to take us off the trail of running down the lies.”
“I don’t like it. We’ll find her, then we’re gonna be more interested in looking hard at the two of them.”
“She’s gone, but he knows where she is.”
“Okay, good,” I said. “That’s it. She’s on the run. They’ve got a destination, but he’s gonna make it a missing-persons. We’ll go looking for her, but we won’t find her …”
“She’s not taking her car. He’ll switch cars, too, so we don’t know what we’re looking for.”
“But why tell us? Why not just get in the other cars and head off to wherever?”
Ryan scratched at his chin. “Not sure. But for some reason they want us to think she’s a missing person.”
“Maybe she is,” I said.
“She’s going off on her own?”
“Why not?”
“Well, her kid, for one thing,” Ryan said.
I shrugged. “She killed Austin. She knows we’ll be able to prove that somehow, but we won’t be able to implicate her husband. She knows Adam will be better off with him, anyway. So she goes off the grid, leaves the kid with him. Even if he knows she killed Austin, he can’t be compelled to testify against her because they’re still married.”
“And they stay in touch.”
“Hey, she knows how to steal identities. He must, too. So next year, they’re in Los Angeles or Costa Rica or some other damn place.”
“Just one problem with that theory.”
“Yeah?”
“They’ve got this other kid, the girl.”
“What’s the problem?”
“You see her running away from both the kids?”
“What we know about her? Yeah, I do.”
“How do we handle Aaron Montgomery now?” Ryan said.
I stood up. “Let’s head out there now. We’ll phone the chief, tell him what we’re up to.”
We hurried to the lot and got in the Charger. I pulled out into traffic, then drove us toward the Montgomery place in the foothills.
“You want to just interview him?” Ryan said.
I thought a second. “If we think she’s on the run and he might want to follow her, let’s make it a little harder.”
“Bring him in?”
“Call headquarters, have them send a patrol car out after us. We’ll have the uniforms bring him in for questioning. That way, we’re free to chase down Suzannah if we can figure out where she’s gone.”
“He’s not going to like that,” Ryan said.
“That’s true. But as Larry Klein would say, now you’re changing the topic.”
Ryan opened his phone and called it in. Took thirty seconds.
“Call the university Substation, have them find out what kind of car she’s got, see if it’s in the Humanities parking lot.”
Ryan did it. “Said it would take five minutes to run down the sticker and check it out.”
“Now call the English Department, see if she’s scheduled to be there this morning. Find out if they’ve seen her.”
Ryan opened his notebook and found the number. He phoned the department, spoke to the secretary. “Is that unusual?” he said to her. He waited for the answer, then thanked her and ended the call.
“Yeah?”
“She missed her class, and, yes, that’s not like her.”
“She’s on the run,” I said. “I know it.”
“Let’s try to keep him in town,” Ryan said.
We were in the foothills, winding our way up toward the Montgomery place.
Ryan got a call on his cell. It was an officer at the Substation. She drives a 2010 Lexus SUV, white. “Thanks,” he said to the officer before ending the call. Then, to me, “Her car’s not in the lot at school.”
“Where’d you go, Suzannah?”
I pulled into the driveway outside the Montgomery house. We walked up to the door and I knocked hard.
The door opened in a second. It was Aaron Montgomery, but not the smoothie we had interviewed a couple days ago. His complexion was almost grey. His skin sagged beneath his eyes. He was wearing old blue jeans and a stained yellow tee shirt. His movements were quick and jittery. “Thank God you’re here, Detectives,” he said.
We don’t usually get a greeting like that. “Hello, Mr. Montgomery,” I said, my voice noncommittal.
“Please come in.” He led us back toward the big living room with the fireplace. His son, Adam, was in his wheelchair. The boy’s eyes followed us, but he didn’t say or do anything. That was closer to the kind of reaction we usually get.
When we got into the living room, Aaron Montgomery walked over to his son an
d started rubbing the boy’s shoulders. The boy didn’t seem to react, but it looked like it calmed his father down a little. “What’s the plan? What are you going to do?”
“We’ve checked with the English Department. She’s not there, and nobody’s seen her today. Her car’s not in the Humanities lot. It’s a white 2010 Lexus SUV, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s it.”
“Can you tell us when you last talked to her?”
“It was yesterday afternoon, maybe around four.”
“And what did she say?”
“Said she was going to be home around five-thirty. I told her I’d work on dinner. She asked me how the kids were doing. You know, absolutely routine.”
“She didn’t mention the lockdown on campus? A guy with a gun?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Did she say was going to stop and do some errands, anything like that?”
“No.”
“When we talked with you on the phone fifteen minutes ago, I asked if she ever stayed out overnight. You didn’t exactly answer me.”
He frowned. “Like I just said, Detective, we talked and she said she’d be coming home around five-thirty.”
“You don’t think she could’ve changed her mind and decided to do something else?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Detective,” he said, straightening up and removing his hands from his son’s shoulders. “I’ve told you what you need to know about our phone conversation.”
“Well, there’s the problem, Mr. Montgomery. You haven’t been honest with us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’ll start with some simple things. You said you’ve never been to South Carolina. You said you worked for Lawrence Yu, the architect in Berkeley.” I paused. He walked over to a cream-colored soft chair and sank onto its matching footstool, his forearms on his legs, his head hung down.
“Suzannah Collins, Carol Winters. You understand where I’m going? So when you say you don’t know where your wife is, first question comes to mind, Which woman we talking about here? Next question, why should we think she’s missing? Maybe you and her just felt things are getting too hot here and decided to move on. Could that be what’s going on here, Mr. Montgomery?”
Adam started looking around, first at his father, then at us. He sensed something was wrong and started to moan.
Aaron Montgomery raised his head and looked at me. “I’m not going to say anything at all about any of those allegations without advice of counsel.”
“But you do see how that makes us think maybe you’re not telling us the truth, don’t you?”
“I don’t expect you to believe me or to understand anything about any of those matters. I phoned you for one reason: to ask you to help me find my wife. Are you willing to do that? Are you willing to do your job?”
“Yes, Mr. Montgomery, we are always willing to do our jobs.” I turned to Ryan. “Check and see if the officers are here yet.” Ryan turned and walked out toward the entrance hallway.
“What are you doing?”
“We want to make sure we have every opportunity to do our jobs—to help you find your wife. So we’re going to bring you in to police headquarters and question you about your wife’s whereabouts and any other relevant matters that could help us find her.”
He stood up. “This is outrageous. I call you, asking for your help, and you’re going to bring me in for questioning?”
“That’s right, sir,” I said. “We can hold you for twenty-four hours, then we have to charge you or release you.”
“You can’t do that,” he said. “What about Adam? What about my daughter? She comes home from school at three-thirty.”
I nodded and reached into my shoulder bag and pulled out my phone. I opened it up and speed-dialed headquarters. “This is Seagate. I’m at the home of Aaron and Suzannah Montgomery.” I gave the address. “I need you to alert Child and Family Services. We’re going to bring in Mr. Montgomery for questioning. He has a son, he’s here now, he’s handicapped, in a wheelchair. Age twelve. He’ll need care. And a daughter, age fourteen, who’ll be dropped off from school around three-thirty. Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”
Just then Ryan walked back into the living room. I looked at him. He nodded.
“Okay, Mr. Montgomery, there’s two officers in your driveway who’ll bring you in to headquarters. They’ll stay here with you until the people can come for Adam.”
“You can’t do this,” he said, panic on his face and in his voice.
“Can,” I said. “And will. We’ve got two cases we think you can help us with. The murder of Austin Sulenka and the missing-persons. While the child-services people are getting here, you might want to pack a bag with the things Adam is gonna need for the next twenty-four hours or so. You know, clothing, diapers, special foods, whatever.”
Aaron Montgomery let out a long, low wail and sank onto his knees on the carpet. Seeing his father respond this way, Adam started crying, first a little bit, then hysterically.
I walked out of the living room. Turning around, I saw Ryan standing there, looking at Aaron Montgomery and his son. “Let’s go, Detective,” I said to him in a clipped tone.
Chapter 34
“I still don’t know who killed that graduate student.” Frances Hamblin leaned on her silver-handled cane as she stood in the foyer of her really expensive house behind the gates in the Ravensmere development.
“Good morning, Professor Hamblin, sorry to stop by without calling. Detective Seagate; my partner, Detective Miner.”
“Yes, lovely to hear your names again,” she said, “but this is not a good time for a talk. Would you be able to stop by my office at the university? I’m available between two and three on Wednesdays.”
“I’ll be in the Charger,” I said to Ryan. “Would you mind helping Professor Hamblin gather her things?” Ryan looked down at his shoes.
“What are you talking about?” the professor said. “What things are you telling this man to help me gather? I am not going anyplace.”
“Actually, Professor, you are.” I held my gaze. “We’re bringing you in to police headquarters for questioning in regard to the murder of Austin Sulenka. If you resist, I will personally put you in cuffs and arrest you for obstruction of justice.”
Her expression was puzzled, and then, suddenly, she smiled. “Would you like to come in, Detectives?” She had terrific teeth.
“Why, yes, Professor, if this is a good time for you.”
“This is a wonderful time,” she said, tipping her head just a little. “Would you please come this way?” she said. She turned and led us into a sitting room, all the furniture mahogany, covered in a pale blue brocaded cloth and sitting on slender, curved legs. Off to the side, a matching mahogany grand piano sat on the same style legs. “Sit, please,” she said. “Can I get you some coffee, perhaps tea?”
I glanced at Ryan, who was wearing a small smile. He shook his head no.
“That’s very generous, Professor, but we don’t want to talk up any more of your time than necessary. We have just a few questions.”
She gestured to the couch near the large window that looked out over her front yard. She took a high-backed armchair. “How can I help?”
“We’d like to know when you last had contact with Suzannah Montgomery.”
“I thought you said this was about Austin Sulenka.”
“It is. But at the moment we’re trying to learn more about Suzannah’s husband so we can help him with a problem. Her husband, Aaron?—”
“Yes, I know Aaron.”
“Aaron Montgomery is concerned that she did not come home last night.”
“Did you check at the university?”
Now it was my turn to smile. “When did you last have contact with Suzannah Montgomery?”
“If you are asking whether she spent the night here, the answer is no.”
Well, okay, I’m nothing if not flexible. “Does she e
ver spend the night here?”
She sniffed and raised her chin a little bit. “Yes, sometimes she does.”
“Would you like to tell us about that?”
“Are you asking me to reveal details of my personal life?”
“My partner and I are trying to figure out who killed Austin Sulenka, as well as where Suzannah Montgomery is. To the extent those details about your personal life could help us with either of those two matters, yes, I am.”
“Let me address the second matter first. I have no idea where Suzannah Montgomery is, and I haven’t been in contact with her—by phone, in person, by e-mail, in any way—for three or four days. On the question of whether she killed Austin Sulenka, the answer is no. She did not kill him.”
“Can I ask how you know that?”
“Because she told me she did not do it.”
“I don’t want to be impertinent, Professor, but Suzannah Montgomery does take some liberties with the truth.”
“Yes, of course. As her friend, I am well aware of that. She is an inveterate liar.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, then, if you admit that she’s a liar but you know she didn’t kill Austin because she said she didn’t … Do you see where I’m going?”
“Rest assured, I see where you’re going before you do, Detective, but if you don’t mind my offering a critique, you’re being awfully reductive here.”
“Now, I don’t even know what that means.”
“Does Suzannah Montgomery lie? Yes, she does. As does everyone. I daresay you lie all the time.”
She was right, of course, but I didn’t blink. “So what makes you think Suzannah was telling you the truth when she said she didn’t kill him?”
“For one thing, she was very fond of him. Since she began the affair, she had enormous verve, tremendous vitality. I tell you, it took twenty years off her age. Austin gave her a kind of sexual energy that I don’t see in most of our graduate students.”
“Is that what drew her to him?”
“No, I don’t think so, although he certainly was an attractive young man. Even a crone like myself could see that. No, I think it was the connection he had with Adam.”
