Deathnet : Bayview Beach Book 1

by P. S. Chandler

To her surprise, Mr. Fleming didn't immediately leap at her as he had previously done in the presence of his wife.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched; it moved under the skin in a way that made her think of the time Morpheus slowly digested a mouse. A minute passed before he spoke.

  "It was only once detective, and it was stupid in the heat of the moment. I was in my head a lot during the divorce, and I spun out of control. I guess it was kind of my attempt at getting back at Carol; she was so sure Lane was a loyal friend. Both were determined to humiliate me and destroy my manhood, so I had to strike back.

  "I know this looks bad, real bad." Mr. Fleming's hands tightened into a fist. He banged his fist on the table; he bellowed, "I am not a monster! I didn't kill Lane. He paused. "Besides, with her suddenly working most nights, it was almost too easy. If I'd wanted to, I probably could have made it a regular thing."

  "Calm down, Mr. Fleming. No one is calling you a killer." Lauren took a deep breath, then asked, "What kind of work was your wife doing, Mr. Fleming?"

  "Nothing too strenuous, you understand. Carol wasn't known to break a sweat or ruin her nails or anything. She got a job as a pit boss at the casino. Managed to get her pathetic loser son a job at the place as well."

  Lauren tried not to let the shock show on her face. "Sunset?"

  Mr. Fleming shrugged loosely, and looked sheepish. "Yeah. She helps with the bad losers and just kind of keeps an eye on things. She's not muscle, obviously. Bennie's got his own guys for that.

  "Lane came over to our house one night while Carol was out, and in the heat of the moment, I wasn't as careful as I should have been. She found a black hair on my pillowcase."

  "What did she do?"

  "Not much. We talked about it. She said she was disappointed but not surprised, that all men are the same, yada yada...and that was it. She knew she was a frigid old biddy and had just been waiting for me to do something like this as leverage."

  Lauren pulled her chair out from the table and sat down. She was surprised to feel more sorrow than anger, deep down, as the picture became clearer in her mind. Mr. Fleming claimed not to know anything about his ex-wife’s further interactions with Lane Mason. The detectives would have to go to the source, Carol Paul Fleming.

  Chapter 12

  Ace tightened his face and blew his breath and returned to his office after being scolded for his abrasive questioning tactics with Mrs. Carpenter. Lauren anxiously made her way to Ace.

  "Hey, did we get any electronic records on Lane or any surveillance footage from her regular hangouts yet?"

  Ace let out a heavy sigh. "I think we got call records and texts from her cell, but I don't know about any camera stuff. Why?"

  "We might want to check those texts messages again. Reed Fleming and Lane Mason had a thing, and apparently, Mrs. Fleming found out about it. She might've left a threatening voicemail or two."

  He dropped his jaw. "Jeez this case gets messier by the minute. I'll get tech to pull phone stuff. Let's look and see if there's any footage from her office or her apartment." Lauren leaned over Ace behind his chair and waited for the computer to load. The smell of her perfume reminded him of the time the two of them were snowed in at Cliff Hills Resort, Colorado Springs. It was their one anniversary; she wore this same scent. Radiant Rays was his favorite. His mind wandered.

  "Hello..... Earth to Ace" chirped Lauren.

  He paused. "Oh, Uh..... sorry. Here's footage from the pizza place across the street from Lane's office building. It only shows the front entrance, but there are a couple of seconds here that might help us." On the screen, a grainy form of a woman was seen. She threw open the double doors, checked her surroundings, then fled off to the left.

  Ace rolled the footage back, paused it, and zoomed in on the figure. It would never do for a glamour shot, but Lauren could make out Mrs. Fleming's flawlessly made-up features and the bands of gold around her wrists; she wore the same bracelets when she was brought in for questioning.

  "God bless modern technology," she said lowly.

  "So, what now? Do we have enough to take her down?"

  Ace shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on if anything comes of the phone records."

  He pushed back from his desk. "Meanwhile, I can send a couple of officers to her

  apartment to check the trash, landline records if she's got one. If we find her at the casino, we could hold her long enough to let them search."

  Lauren frowned at his back as he stood up. "That's a little shady, isn't it? We don't even know if she's working today."

  "Hey, if the paperwork's all in order, we're good. I'll get a couple of officers up to Mrs. Fleming's place, then you and I can make our way to the Sunset. Okay?"

  "Works for me. Plus, we'll get to see what kind of sad people frequent casinos at 1 p.m."

  Ace laughed and patted her shoulder as they made their way to the cruiser.

  ◆◆◆

  The Sunset Casino was depressingly busy that afternoon: nearly every single slot machine was occupied, and the rattling of machines and karaoke-like music made Lauren feel like she was going insane.

  "There she is," Ace said. He nudged Detective’s Jacobs arm. "Back towards the bar."

  Lauren looked, and sure enough, she could make out Mrs. Fleming's narrow form; her hair-stained mustard-yellow by the lights, her stylish slacks, and black suit jacket. Her back was to them; the man she spoke to seemed to notice Ace and Lauren's approach. He raised his head and caught Lauren's eye.

  "Oh great, it's Bennie," she murmured, Ace neck and back tensed.

  Across the room, Bennie lowered his eyes back to Mrs. Fleming, and gripped her shoulder. Mrs. Fleming turned, saw Ace and Lauren, and bolted.

  "Head towards the back exit!" barked Ace. Mrs. Fleming dove behind the clubhouse doors.

  Lauren sprinted towards the back exit and pushed past several patrons, ignoring their cries of protest as she ran into them. The lights and sounds blurred past her as Mrs. Fleming effortlessly gained speed in her black stilettos boots. The hallway ended with a pitch-black rectangular door. To Lauren's surprise, Carol Fleming stopped at the doorway. Carl turned to face them as each cop reached for her. She wore a callous expression on her face.

  "Detectives." Her voice became steady for a moment. Lauren had to wonder if she knew they knew. Would she be this calm if she were arrested for murder?

  "Why did you run, Mrs. Fleming?" asked Ace, his face red with exertion.

  She smiled softly. "Instinct, I suppose. Did Reed tell you I would be here?"

  "Yes, ma'am. You're going to have to come with us back to the station."

  "No matter what anyone says, my son had nothing to with this", blurted Carol.

  Lauren raised her right eyebrow, "Your son?"

  “Yeah, Max had nothing to do with this!"

  Ace mouth dropped opened; his eyes widened, "Max is your son?"

  "Yup. And that dumb lawyer failed my Maxy. Because of her, he lost custody of my 2-year-old grandson. Carol clasped her hands together. “Should've of known not to use a divorce attorney in Family Court.”

  "So, where's Max now." Mrs. Fleming glared at Lauren but said nothing.

  "Where's my lawyer? I'm afraid I'm no longer working with the old one." Her lips parted in a cold bemused smile. She whispered softly in Lauren's ear, "Oh, by the way, how's your head, Officer Jacobs?"

  A cold slice of fury buried itself in Lauren's chest, as she reached for Mrs. Fleming’s arms and pulled the handcuffs from her belt. "Carol Paul Fleming, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you." She spoke through gritted teeth, running through the script to keep herself from ripping the woman's arms out of their sockets. Mrs. Fleming came quietly. She held her head high and spoke not a word. Ace followed behind the two women to the parking lot. He watched Mrs. Fleming like a hawk ready to tackle her down if she tried to flee.
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br />   Chapter 13

  A second sweep of Lane Mason's revealed a litany of emails from Carol before and after the affair came to light. The least of them detailed contacts through whom Ms. Fleming threatened to have Lane disbarred. The worst of them threatened Lane's life.

  Further records showed thirteen phone calls between Ms. Paul's cell phone and an extension line at Sunset Casino. None of these could be linked to Bennie, who insisted they had to be work-related, and none involved him.

  The precinct's forensics team descended upon Carol’s high-rise apartment building a mere hour after her arrest. They were informed of a strike amongst Broward County sanitation workers, which had gone on for nearly a month. The result was mountains of garbage piled high behind twelve-foot fencing at the back of the building, almost three weeks' worth.

  It was easy enough to set sniffer dogs on the gigantic pile of trash, and it did not take long for them to find final proof of her guilt: a two-foot-tall, solid mahogany National Championship trophy, college softball, stamped with the name of the team captain, and the date. Lane Mason; 1983. There was still a crusted wad of bloodied brown hair on the top left corner, as well as two fingerprints left in sweat on the trophy's gold-plated face. The two women argued in Lane's office regarding the affair and Max's custody hearing. In a fit of rage, Mrs. Paul (Fleming) clogged Ms. Mason on the head with the trophy claiming that she had seduced her husband. Carol insisted that it was an accident, that she didn’t mean to kill Lane.

  Max returned from Charleston after visiting his son and reconnecting with his old girlfriend. He vowed to stand by his mother's side no matter what. Nearly two weeks after Lane Mason's body was found, Carol was charged with voluntary manslaughter, concealing evidence in an investigation, and obstruction of justice for lying to the police. For a lighter sentence, Carol testified against Kip Ross, who she paid $25,000 to dispose of Lane's body using alimony payments she received from her divorce settlement. She also identified Kip as the culprit who planted the bomb in Lauren's car.

  Kip was arrested and charged with attempted murder in the first degree of a police officer, concealing evidence in a murder investigation, and the unlawful disposal of a human corpse. He did odd jobs for the casino and was known as a bootleg plumber. The waterproof sealant he used to repair a leaky toilet remained on Kip’s hands. In his haste to vanish Lane out in the open sea, the grease on his hands perfectly preserved his print found on Ms. Mason’s thigh. Kip would spend the next 30 years of his life in prison.

  ◆◆◆

  The morning after Carol’s arrest, Lauren received a phone call from Zack Austin.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Detective Jacobs? This is Zack. Zack Austin. L-Lane's ex-fiancé?"

  Ace saw Lauren jump a little in her seat and swing her feet back down to the floor. "Yeah, I remember. What can I do for you, Mr. Austin?"

  He hesitated. "Would it be okay for us to talk? I-I mean, me and you, and Detective Stone? I just got some stuff I want to get off my chest."

  Lauren felt that old familiar, dull ache in her chest. "Sure. Any place you had in mind?

  "Ace stood up from his chair, turning to leave. Lauren wrapped her knuckles on the hard plastic arm of her chair, and when he looked up, she held up her index finger. “Wait,” Lauren whispered.

  "No worries, Mr. Austin. We'll be there in twenty minutes. See you soon."

  "Who was that?"

  .

  "Zack Austin, Lane Mason's ex-fiancé. The one she jilted. He wants to talk."

  "Well, you're not going alone, responded Ace sharply. Where does he want to meet us?"

  "Lake Eva.”

  They found Zack sitting on a park bench, directly across from the candy-blue pond. There was a splash park nearby, and the shrieks of joy and slapping of bare feet against cement reached their ears even with the wind rattling the line of American flags on their poles along the path. Lauren cleared her throat before she and Ace got too close so as not to startle him.

  He looked up at them after he raised a hand to his forehead to block the bright spring sunshine. "I hope I didn't inconvenience either of you," he said, somewhat apologetically. He smiled politely.

  "Not at all," she said softly, sitting down beside him. "What did you need to talk about?

  Zack paused. This time he looked up at Ace. "I just wanted to apologize for the way my daughter behaved through this whole thing. And I guess how I've behaved."

  Ace slapped his shoulder. "Hey man, your daughter's a grown woman. From what you've said, she probably would have dug herself a deeper hole if she had been willing to talk to us. And you've done nothing wrong, Mr. Austin. You lost somebody you care about. None of us know how we're going to react to that."

  Zack continued, "I guess I mostly wanted you guys to know that I've—I’ve forgiven Lane for all the crap she did." He took a deep breath. "I mean, you've got to, right? There's no sense hanging on to resentment if the other person's dead."

  "I hope you don't mind me asking, Mr. Austin," she began. Lauren leaned in a little bit closer to his ear, "But are you going to be, okay?"

  He coughed quietly, "Yeah, I think I will. But, as I said, I just wanted to clear the air with you guys before we lost touch."

  Lauren placed her hand on Zack’s shoulder’s. He looked up at her. "Detective Jacobs, I attended my first AA meeting last night."

  “Great”! Lauren smiled. Zack thanked the detectives for their support and left for the airport to pick up Jill.

  ◆◆◆

  Two days later, Lauren and Ace met on Bayview’s pier. It was late afternoon, a Sunday, and the setting sun had turned the whole world the color of molten steel. Ace brought three glass-bottled containers of iced mocha for Lauren.

  There was hardly a soul along the sand at this time of day, and the gulls had had their fill and were quiet. It was a rare moment of complete peace in their lives, in their corner of the world.

  She wondered was this a good idea. Lauren led Ace down closer to the water towards a certain dock. She walked down until she found what she was looking for-the last boat on the left.

  Second Wind bobbed and weaved in the low waves, roped backward, so the boat’s stern knocked against its post every few seconds. Lauren stared at the rusted boat, chips of paint missing along the sheerline.

  "I wondered why you wanted to come out here so late," murmured Ace.

  She watched the boat, and in a small voice, she said, "It's morbid, I know. But I wanted to see where it happened.”

  Ace wasn't sure what to say.

  A few minutes of silence followed; Lauren turned towards him and asked, "What would you have done if I'd left you at the altar? What if I'd never shown up? Would you have come looking for me?"

  He hadn't been expecting this, either. "Wha-- uh, I don't know. I mean, with what I know now, I don't think I even want to consider it. But I don't think you'd do that."

  She seemed to consider this for a moment. "Hmm. Probably not. And it's probably a lot less awkward to work with someone you've divorced than someone you've humiliated in front of their family."

  Her words caught him off-guard, and he laughed.

  "That's a safe bet. Why what's put that on your mind?"

  Lauren was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I just wonder if Lane ever regretted not marrying Zach. And I can't help but think, maybe she'd still be here if she never would have gotten messed up in all the crap with the Flemings."

  "It's nice to think that way," Ace conceded. "Maybe if she hadn't been alone, she wouldn't have slept with Reed."

  Lauren grimaced. "That would have been a bonus. I'm not trying to be weird; I just got to thinking with this case, how one small decision can send your life shooting off in totally unexpected directions."

  Ace was quiet. Lauren watched Second Wind bob languidly on the low waves. She took another ice coffee out of the pack and swallowed.

  "I haven't told you everything about my last partner, about what happened. And— I'm not going to, at lea
st not yet. It's hard, hard to talk about, even now."

  "That's okay, Ace. When you want to, I hope you tell me." She hesitated. "He was...murdered, wasn't he?"

  Ace's voice was low but steady. "Yeah. Almost exactly five years ago today. There were no leads, and no witnesses came forth. The case was going nowhere so it just kind of got pushed to the back burner. I swore to my partner’s family that I would not rest until his killer was caught.”

  As a gesture of comfort, Lauren walked closer to him and gently touched his shoulder. "You know I'll help you in any way I can, Ace."

  "I appreciate that, Laur. I appreciate you. You know that, right?"

  She smiled softly. "I do. Hey, you ready to get out of here?"