by Nick Vellis
“Yeah, I noticed,” I said.
“This business with Cary is driving him crazy. He likes to stay out of the public eye.”
“What does he like to do?”
“He hunts and fishes. He’s always out on the lake or in the woods. He loves living out in the country. He manages the family business interests, of course. He’s a big reader, mostly history and biographies. He’ll read anything he can get his hands on. Is that what you mean?” she asked.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m trying to understand your family. You say he’s into history. He used some quotes on me when we talked …”
“My daddy is a real student of history.”
Her luminous smile was dazzling me.
“What’s your brother like,” I asked trying to stay on track.
“He’s kind, easy going and lucky. We both have always believed we had a special kind of luck. I’m not sure that’s true anymore with what’s been going on. He has always been a protective big brother too.”
“I thought you were twins,” I said.
“We are, but Cary’s nine minutes older. He says he’s my older brother.” The smile that enveloped her face reflected thoughts of happier times, but then it quickly disappeared.
“What kind of person is he?” I asked.
“He’s kind…”
“You said that…”
“… wickedly smart and a little sarcastic. He took a big risk getting his clients out of real estate when he did, but he was sure there was a crash coming. It turned out he was right.”
“How did that happen? No one else predicted the crash and, what, ten years later we’re still in a down economy.”
“He says it was daddy who gave him the idea. Cary was talking to daddy about how rampant stock and bond speculation had become, how trading volumes were at record highs, and how people bought assets just to flip them. Daddy had been reading some book on the 1929 stock market crash and said that was the same case in the 1920s. Cary borrowed the book and a few weeks later, he was advising his clients to get out of real estate and financial services. He made a lot of money for his clients.”
“He is lucky.”
“He’s a good guy, too. He couldn’t have killed Stephanie, not like they say he did.”
“How was their relationship?”
“Like anyone else’s I guess. You know, they had their ups and downs. It seemed a little one sided to me.”
“How do you mean?” I coaxed.
“She was always off playing with friends while he put in long days at the office. I didn’t like…”
“What?”
“I didn’t like the way she treated him. It almost felt like being nice to him was an obligation for her. I don’t think she loved him. I don’t know… it was a feeling.”
“Feelings can tell us things the rational side can’t see,” I said. “I’m not a shrink, but I play one on TV.”
She laughed and that smile nearly overcame me again.
“I’m making too much of it. I don’t know, maybe I thought no one was good enough for my brother. They seemed happy together.”
“Did she work?”
“She was working when they met, advertising or accounting I think, but she stopped when they got married and she moved to Orlando.”
“Was that a problem?”
“I don’t think so. He never mentioned it. Money wasn’t a problem, of course. Cary was very successful.”
“Was he seeing someone? Sorry, I have to ask. That’s the motive the police are working with at the moment.”
I could see the hurt in her eyes. She looked lost. There was something else there too.
“I don’t know about Cary, but I think Stephanie was. He hinted at it several times, but he said they’d patched things up,” she asserted.
“Did he give you any names or details?” I asked but I knew she didn’t know.
She shook her head no. “When I would ask about it, he seemed sad. He didn’t have the usual spark. Then a couple months before Stephanie died that all changed. He said things were back to the way they should be.”
“Any hint who she might have been seeing?” I asked.
Ashton sucked in her lower lip, looked down, and slowly shook her head.
“How did they meet?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
Cary met Steph at the Harvard homecoming game the year after he graduated from B-school. Stephanie was one of a group of women who were up from Columbia. He spilled a drink on Steph in the stands and they started talking. He gave her his coat and eventually got her number. He asked her out and they started dating. That’s the story, but I think there was more to it.” She brought her attention back to the problem of the moment.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“One of the women with Steph was a witch, possessive and mean spirited. I think she…”
“She what?”
“I think she wanted something from Cary.”
“How do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.
“I told Cary afterwards I though the woman hit the beer in his hand intentionally. She had been talking to him, chatting him up really. When Stephanie came over, all his attention was on her. When the beer spilled, the look on the other woman’s face was purple - pure jealousy. Anyway, the beer went all over Stephanie, but the other woman caused it.”
Ashton suspected something, but didn’t know what it meant. Neither did I.
“You were there? Who was this woman?” I asked.
“Yeah, I was there. I was seeing one of Cary’s friends at the time. I don’t know her. I saw her again at their wedding so I asked Stephanie about the incident. She said I must be imagining things, but she didn’t sound convincing. She said the woman was a bitch and not to worry about her. Stephanie and the woman got into an argument later that night.” Ashton was grasping at straws, but any lead was worth tracking down.
“Did you ask her about the argument?” I continued.
“No, but I asked Cary and he said not to worry.”
“You’ve no idea who she is?” I asked.
“Well, I know I heard the name, Sharon something I think. I know she still was hanging out with Stephanie. She was one of her close circle of friends.”
“This woman is in Orlando? Could he have been seeing her?”
“Yeah, she is in Orlando, but as for seeing her, you mean like an affair? I don’t know. Cary mentioned her a couple times. He would know her name for sure.”
“There are lots of pictures of Stephanie with girlfriends in their house. Who were her friends?”
“I don’t know her friends. I live in New York remember? You could try their county club. Cary can tell you which one. She played tennis there a couple times a week.” The glow on Ashton’s face faded as her thoughts turned darker. She put the flat of her hand on her chest, a sign of insecurity. “Are you going to be able to help my brother, Mac?” She asked.
“I don’t know, Ashton. I’ll do my damnedest,” I replied.
I only felt slightly guilty letting Ashton pay for our lunch. Either way she was paying, I guess. If I picked up the check, I’d have expensed it to her case. We parted with my promise to call if I learned anything no matter how small.
My lunch with Ashton Hunt left my head spinning. I could get lost in those green eyes, but I had a job to do first. I’d learned only a little about Cary Hunt, but I knew his sister believed in him deeply and that was enough.
The Orange County jail is more or less centrally located off I-4 and John Young Parkway. Tourists on their way to the theme parks pass with hardly a glance. I headed north and soon found myself sitting the jail’s public parking lot. I added to a list of questions I had for Cary Hunt while I sat in my car killing time.
I walked through a metal detector just inside the front doors, showed my ID, and after a pat down, a corrections officer escorted me to the visiting area. Since I’d said I was on Cary’s legal team, we got a private room.
His orange corrections jump suit h
ung loose on him, but it was clean. He was about six feet tall, and lean like his father. There was a strong resemblance to Ashton too. They shared the same strong facial features, light green eyes, and thick blond hair. Unlike his sister’s healthy glow, Cary’s complexion was decidedly pasty.
“Who the hell are you and what do you want? I’m missing my TV period. Perry Mason is on,” he said as he took a seat. “I’m taking notes.”
The corrections officers closed the door behind him as he left.
When the door closed, I turned to Cary and said, “I’m Mac Everett. You sister hired me to reinvestigate your case.”
“What? I’ve got a lawyer for that.” He shot to his feet. “I don’t have time…”
“You have nothing but time, Mr. Hunt. Now sit down and put a sock in it.”
Cary’s eyes narrowed. He placed both hands on the table edge and leaned. “Sit down Cary,” I said softly, “and let’s bring back that special luck you have.”
A liar always seems uncomfortable while telling a lie because truth may come out. Was this man antsy because of deceptions or was it just his situation? Cary melted into the chair, his bravado gone. I gave him a quick rundown on who I was, why Ashton had hired me, and my feeling his lawyer was only going through the motions. When I had finished he asked, “What can we do?”
“We can start by you telling me what happened the day you last saw your wife,” I responded, taking out my note pad.
Cary started with a detailed recitation of the night before he left town.
“We had dinner,” he began, “at Cajun Magic. It’s a seafood place we like on East Colonial Drive. You know the one near Lake Eola Park.”
I knew it. It served Cajun and Creole food, casual and laid back. I wasn't the kind of place I imagined an affluent couple would go.
“We got home about 10:30, he continued. “ I opened a bottle of wine and we relaxed on the patio. It was a nice night until it started to cloud up. There was a big storm that night.”
He skipped the part about jumping in the sack, but I let it go.
“I got up at about five and left for the airport about 5:45. I was running late, but I made it on time. I have the TSA precheck card,” he said.
“You stop any place on the way, make any calls?”
“It was early. I went straight to the airport and parked in the A Concourse garage. I got a coffee and boarded with first class.”
The garage and the airline would have records his attorney could use. The parking garage and the airport entrance had surveillance video too. There were records we could subpoena to beat this. I wondered what the cops had that questioned when Cary had left home.
He tried calling his wife while waiting for a connecting flight around eleven, but she didn’t answer. He tried again about four thirty from Salt Lake City with the same result. I’d have to ask Ward Barger about getting Cary’s phone records.
All of what Cary told me appeared true. I didn’t get any body language to the contrary or any sense he was lying. His eye contact was right, he’s relaxed in the shoulders and neck, and he wasn’t rubbing his eyes the way a liar does.
“Did you think it strange you couldn’t reach your wife?” I remarked.
Cary hesitated, and then said, “Yeah…but I don’t know where she was.”
He looked away from me to the right, and then bingo, his first lie.
“Look if you know something, we need to check it out.”
“I called a couple of her friends, but they didn’t know where she was either. She missed a tennis date that day. She must have been…”
He was right. She must have all ready been dead, but there was more.
“I called the police the next day and they said they would check on her,” he said.
I’d have to see if he made that call and there was a check made.
“Where did you think she was,” I asked.
He looked at me, he face a blank slate.
“When you couldn’t reach your wife,” I said, “where did you think she might be?”
He dropped his head and wrung his hands in his lap. He was struggling with how to answer.
“Come on Cary, everyone answers Perry Mason’s questions,” said. It was a joke, but I was serious.
He just sat there and then I got a vibe. I knew what he was holding back. He knew his wife was sleeping around and he was certain she was with her lover.
“Let’s try something else. Did you notice anything unusual that morning?” I asked.
“I wasn’t paying attention. It had stormed the night before … Oh, wait…there was a car.”
“What car?” I asked.
“It was parked in the alley about three houses down from us. I noticed the license plate was missing. I’d seen it there a couple times before. That condo is empty, a foreclosure I think,” he said. “But I’ve told this to the police and my lawyers. What good does this do?”
“I don’t know yet. Let’s keep going. The police think you were seeing someone besides your wife.”
Cary’s head rose slowly, as his eyes narrowed again. He didn’t say a word, but his lips did. It doesn’t happen with everyone, but it’s surprising how many people reveal secrets subvocally. It seems the harder they try to hide something the more likely they let it slip. There ought to be a government study or something.
I sat back and considered what I’d read on his lips and decided to go for it. My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I ignored it.
“Now about the woman you were seeing…”
“What woman,” he snapped, unconvincingly.
“The one the cops have the hotel bills for, and the cell calls and the texts….”
“OK. I get it.”
“You’re protecting her so she’s married…”
“She’s not married,” he mumbled.
“Or her job would be in jeopardy if…”
He did it again. It wasn’t fair, but his life depended on this information. I read his lips again and I knew why he was protecting her. “She’s a cop,” I said. It was more a statement than a question.
You would have though I hit him in the chest with a taser. He shot out of his chair tossing it aside and shouted, “How do you know about her? You keep her out of this!”
“Sit down,” I said firmly. “We have a lot to do if we’re going to get you out of this mess.” I held his gaze unexpectedly. He calmed down, righted his chair, and slumped into this seat completely defeated. He’d tried to hide the truth from me, but that’s impossible.
“You can’t understand my pain,” he said.
I hate a whiner, but this guy was in deep shit.
“Life is pain,” I replied. “Anyone who says differently is selling something. Look, bad things happen. How you respond defines who you are. Now get it together. Who is she?”
“You can’t drag her into this. She has nothing to do with it,” Cary said.
“It’s not up to you. You need her and if she has feelings for you, she’ll come forward if she didn’t kill your wife.”
“She didn’t kill Stephanie. She would never…”
“What’s her name? I’ll keep her out of it if I can, but right now you need every bit of help you can get,” I said.
Cary dropped his head into his hands again and held very still. When he took his hands away, I could see the tears. Cary was a man on the edge and I could push him over as I had so many others. It was too easy. It was unfair, but it worked. Her name came to his lips before I could ask, and then words and emotions came pouring out.
“Kristin Wagner,” he said softly. “Detective Kristin Wagner?”
He sat quietly, gathering his thoughts, and then the damn broke.
"I never thought anything like this could happen,” he said, looking me square in the eyes. “The blackmail, now murder- I don’t understand.” Then he put his head on the table.
In a small voice, his head still down, he began again. “Stephanie has been sleeping with someone off and on for a couple yea
rs, maybe even before we got married. I know she didn’t give up him up. Don’t ask me how, I just know. I think it’s someone she knew in grad school, maybe even college.”
“You don’t know who it was?” I asked.
“No, every time I brought it up she changed the subject or got angry. She’d accuse me of not trusting her.”
I knew from personal experience; whether it’s a friendship or a relationship, trust is the basis for all bonds. Without it, you have nothing. Cary may have been married, but he had nothing.
“Did that change?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“When she confronted me about Kristin, I accused her, and she finally admitted her own affair, but still wouldn’t tell me who it was.”
Or how many, I thought to myself.
“So you were the cuckold. You endured the embarrassment for years, and then finally took a lover of your own, Kristin Wagner.” I could hear how the defense would spin it already.
“She’s pretty and intelligent, like Stephanie, but after her own divorce she wanted a little love in her life, even if it was for only a few stolen moments. We started innocently enough and, well the affair just happened. We broke it off months ago,” He bit his lip trying to stem the emotions.
“How did your wife find out about you and Kristin?”
“I don’t know. We were really careful.” He sighed and slowly shook his head. His words were running dry. Then he continued, “When Stephanie found out she was furious. She had pictures! She demanded I give Kristin up. I told her I would, but she had to give her lover up too.”
“So you worked out an agreement?”
“Yeah,” Cary said.
“You gave Kristin up, but…”
“…but Steph lied to me. She was still sleeping with…”
His words trailed off as his eyes closed as his head collapsed into his hands.
Cary and his wife both had taken lovers. If he didn’t kill his wife, a couple of jilted lovers would be good suspects and certainly enough to raise reasonable doubt. I got him to write down the names of his wife’s friends, told him not to give up hope. A little light was starting to show at the end of a very long tunnel.
