by D P Lyle
“I know what she is. She’s another one of your playmates. You don’t seem to be able to hold on to them so I see her getting pissed at you and taking it out on me.”
“Walter, I don’t think you should point fingers considering the current situation. Not to mention dumping a ration of shit on the guy with the film that could make your life a living hell.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing. You need all the friends you can rally about now.”
“Are you, Jake? A friend?”
“Walter, I’m not sure you and I could ever be friends. Past history and all. But I wouldn’t want to see you jammed up for something you didn’t do.”
“I didn’t.”
“Believe it or not, but I do believe you.”
I thought he might cry, so I left. Nothing worse than seeing a guy tear up. Especially one you’d spent years fantasizing about punching his face purple.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I KNEW TROUBLE was brewing as soon as Nicole dropped out of warp speed and crunched into the shell parking area at Ray’s. Trouble in the form of an unmarked police car. No doubt Detective Bob Morgan’s ride. I knew Ray and I’d eventually have to talk with him, but I’d hoped to sit down with Ray first. Make a game plan. Decide what to do with the video of Walter’s comings and goings. No pun intended.
I considered telling Nicole to turn around, head back to her place, somewhere Morgan wouldn’t find me. Cowardly, I know, but Ray could handle him without me. But I also knew I was the topic of whatever conversation was going on inside—what other topic could it be?—so I decided it was best to get this over and done. At least here I’d have Ray running point.
The office was empty; kitchen, too. Then I heard voices. Coming through the open glass sliders that led to the deck. I grabbed Nicole’s arm, stopping her short.
I recognized Morgan’s voice. I also recognized that I was indeed the topic under discussion.
Morgan: One of our guys had a face to face with him the other night. Near the crime scene.
Ray: Actually he was in front of Tammy Horton’s place.
Morgan: Which is a lob wedge from the scene.
Ray: So?
Then another voice jumped in. Male, harsh, slightly nasal. Jeremy Starks, Morgan’s partner. I had met him a couple times, the reason I knew his distinctive voice.
Starks: Then he shows up again this morning.
Ray: So?
Starks: So why was he there?
Ray: Working a case.
Starks: What case?
Ray: Can’t say.
Morgan: We know all about client privilege.
Ray: Doesn’t sound like it.
Morgan: Ray, don’t you think a little cooperation might be in order here? Or are you going to be your usual jackass self?
Ray: Jackass works for me.
Time to show up. I walked out on the deck. Nicole followed. Ray occupied his usual spot, laptop and papers on the table before him, a Dew at the ready. Morgan sat across from him. Starks stood against the rail, back to the view, arms folded over his chest. Tall, lanky, with a thin face and prominent nose, Starks had been a star wide receiver in high school. Up in Foley. Same area that spawned Alabama All-Americans Kenny Stabler and DJ Fluker. Starks was a prick, though less so than Morgan.
Starks’ gaze lifted to me and his eyes lit up. “Here he is.”
I introduced Nicole. The three men nodded, each, including Ray, looking her up and down.
“What’s happening?” I asked, playing all innocent.
“You,” Morgan said. “Got a few questions for you.”
Ray stood, scraping back his chair. He looked at me. “A word first.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen.
“Not a good idea, Ray. Wouldn’t want to file obstruction charges against you.”
“You won’t.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened.
Ray stared back, giving not an inch. “So unless you have an arrest warrant for me, or Jake, I’m going to have a chat with my son.”
Morgan shrugged and waved a go-ahead hand.
Once in the kitchen, Ray asked, “You two together last night?”
Nicole smiled. “All night.”
Ray rolled his eyes. “Morgan will ask. Just want to be clear on that point.”
“We didn’t make a video or anything like that,” Nicole said. “Well, not of us, anyway.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Ray nodded to Nicole before locking his glare on me, “but I don’t think taking a date on a stakeout is good business.”
“She was actually a big help,” I said.
Ray shook his head. “Story of your life.”
“We got the video though,” I said.
“And breached confidentiality. How do you know you can trust her?”
“Hey,” Nicole said, the edge in her voice grabbing Ray. “Don’t talk about me. Talk to me.”
“Okay, how do I know you can be trusted with what you now know?”
Nicole squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “You don’t.”
“My point exactly.”
“And I don’t know if I can trust you guys either,” Nicole said. “That’s not exactly true.” She looked at me. “I think I can trust Jake. Though I’m not sure why I think that.”
Ray huffed out a snort. “Because he’s charming. At least to those of your persuasion.”
“Persuasion?” Nicole asked. A frown crinkled her forehead.
“Young, pretty, female.”
“That supposed to be a compliment?”
Ray shrugged.
“Look,” Nicole said, “Jake drug me into this so here I am. Deal with it.”
Ray hesitated, and then laughed. “Jake, I like this girl. She doesn’t seem to be the usual airhead you cull from the herd.”
“The herd?” Nicole asked.
“Maybe not the best turn of phrase,” Ray said. “But I’ll say this, you got spunk.”
Nicole offered another perfect smile. “I feel so loved. All warm inside.”
“That was last night,” Jake said.
She looked at Ray. “Didn’t you teach him not to kiss and tell?”
“Lord knows I tried to teach him a bunch of stuff. Jake doesn’t always listen, though.”
“So I noticed.”
How did I become the target of all this? Time to change the topic. “So, what’s the play here?”
“Been thinking on that,” Ray said. “Don’t see any way to keep the video from him. Not that I wouldn’t love to twist his tit a bit.” To Nicole, “Sorry.”
“Gee. Never heard that word before.”
Ray actually smiled. It evaporated when he looked at me. “Withholding the video would be obstruction. Could cost me my license. Not worth the risk. Especially to protect Walter the creep.”
Ray’s dislike of Tammy had long ago spilled over to Walter. Not to mention he and Walter had locked horns in court on many occasions. No love lost there.
Ray continued. “No doubt the guy you filmed was Walter?”
“None. You’ll see. Besides, he admitted it.”
Ray raised an eyebrow.
“But he denied having anything to do with Barbara Plummer’s death,” I said.
“You believe him?”
“Actually, I do. He seemed shocked at the news.”
Nicole nodded her agreement. “Unless he’s a very good actor.”
“Attorneys usually are,” Ray said.
“Not Walter,” I said. “He’d make a lousy poker player. Hell, he couldn’t beat a five-year-old at Go Fish.”
Ray hesitated. “Okay, let’s get this done.”
While I set up my laptop, connecting it to the 60-inch flat screen that hung on the living room wall, Ray brought Morgan and Starks inside. They settled on the sofa facing the screen.
“This video was taken last night,” I said. “We set up on the beach, maybe a hundred and fifty feet from the Plummers’ place.”
“She was,” Ray said.
“Who’s the client? The husband? Henry?”
Ray shrugged. Not exactly an admission, but Morgan got the message.
“Play the video,” Morgan said.
We watched Walter enter the house. He and Barbara embracing. Wine in the kitchen. I paused it briefly at a frame that clearly showed Walter’s face over Barbara’s shoulder. As if he were looking directly at the camera. Then their climb up the stairs. The shadowy movements behind the sheers followed by the bedroom going dark. Then the second video showed Walter leaving, scurrying back up the beach.
“I have an audio file I can give you, too,” I said.
Morgan leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose as if a headache was making its appearance. “I was hoping this would be some miscreant pulling a B and E that went wrong. Walter Horton is another thing altogether.”
True. Walter was a big deal. Well respected. Friends all the way to Montgomery. Handled about every important case in the county.
“The media will eat this up,” Starks said.
“We had a chat with Walter,” I said. “Just before we got here.”
“And?”
“Admitted he was having an affair with Barbara. Said he loved her.”
“Tammy will skewer him,” Ray said.
“She’s pretty good with a golf club,” Nicole said.
“Misplaced love is always a motive for murder,” Morgan said.
“He denied killing her,” I said. “Told us he knew nothing about it.”
Starks gave me a “get real” look. “What would you expect him to say?”
“True. But I believe him.”
“Walter better have his own video,” Morgan said. “One that shows Barbara Plummer alive and well when he left her.” He stood. “Guess we better go have a chat with him.”
“One more thing,” I said. “What was the cause of death?”
“Why is that important to you?” Morgan asked.
“Because we didn’t hear anything. No struggle, no screaming, no gunshots or anything like that.”
Morgan hesitated and then said, “This doesn’t leave the room. Got it?”
“We understand,” Ray said.
He looked at Nicole. “This applies to you, too, young lady.”
Nicole made a zipping motion across her lips. Those wonderfully perfect lips. “I don’t know any of the players here. Except for the ex and she’s crazy.”
Morgan almost smiled. More a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Barbara Plummer was killed in her bed. Single gunshot to the forehead. Looks like she never saw it coming.”
“You thinking this was a pro?” Ray asked.
Morgan shrugged. “Or, in spite of Jake’s opinion, Walter.”
“So he screws the woman he’s supposedly in love with and then shoots her in the head?” I asked. “Does that make sense?”
“Murder never makes sense,” Morgan said. “Besides, I’ve seen that exact scenario before.”
“But Walter? He doesn’t have the cojones. I can’t imagine Walter-the-wimp doing that.”
“It’s often the wimps that do this domestic violence stuff,” Starks said.
I shook my head. “Not Walter.”
“Regardless,” Ray said, “from your description of the scene it surely sounds like a hit.”
Morgan scratched an ear. “Could be. Looks like a small caliber. Shot was dead center. Nothing out of place. Like he just walked in, popped her, and left. So yeah, I’d say this smells like a hit. Not domestic. Not a quarrel or a fight, just a cold killing.”
“So if not Walter, who?” I asked.
“Maybe the two of you?”
I gave him my best smile. “We were busy making a video.”
“Just giving you some shit,” Morgan said. “I take it you two didn’t see anyone else out there?”
I shook my head. “No one.”
“How long were you there?”
I glanced at Nicole. “Three hours, max. Got there a little before ten. Walter left just after midnight. Since we had what we needed, we packed up and left shortly after that.”
“Any idea what the time of death was?” Ray asked.
“Based on the core temps the techs took, sometime between ten and two. Best guess, anyway.”
“Who found her?” Ray asked.
“Cleaning lady.”
“Someone had to have come along after Walter left,” I said. “After we left.”
“Maybe.” Morgan stood. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels slightly. “Which opens up all sorts of possibilities.”
“Like murder for hire?” Ray asked.
Morgan’s expression remained flat, empty. “Did Henry know about the affair?”
Ray gave him his own blank stare.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Morgan said. “He’s your client. Nothing else fits. Isn’t it always some wayward spouse that drags you into these things?”
“Sometimes.”
“Henry hires someone. Guy drops by while Henry’s out of town. A thousand miles away. Wife gets popped. Couldn’t be him. Right? Read this story before.”
“If that were the case,” Ray said, “why would Henry hire me to surveil her? It’d be like supplying your own witness to the crime.” When Morgan didn’t respond, Ray continued. “If the shooter was identified, and then squeezed by you guys, he just might roll over on Henry. So hiring me would have been a stupid move. And what I know of Henry Plummer, stupidity isn’t part of the picture.”
“So, we’re back to a B and E gone wrong,” Starks said.
“The back door was unlocked,” I said.
“And you know that how?” Starks asked.
“Walter left through that door. Barbara didn’t come down and see him off or lock up or anything like that. At least not that we saw.”
Morgan nodded. “It was unlocked. No signs of forcible entry. And the alarm wasn’t set.”
Ray crossed his arms over his chest. “What about Tammy?”
I looked at him. “Tammy kill Barbara? Not a chance.”
“Not herself,” Starks said. “Hired someone.”
“Did she know about the affair?” Morgan asked.
No one had an answer for that, but I said, “I doubt it.”
“Based on?” Morgan asked.
“I would’ve heard.”
“Why? You’re the ex?”
“Tammy calls and vents her problems to me all the time. I have no idea why, but she feels the need to talk things out and I’m . . . what’s the word? . . . safe.”
“Safe?”
“Weird, I know. But I think it’s because I know she’s crazy. When she talks crazy or rants, I’ve seen it all before. She doesn’t feel exposed.”
“Weird is right,” Morgan said.
I smiled. “Weirdness is her most endearing quality.”
“Still . . .”
I shook my head. “Tammy wouldn’t do it and she wouldn’t hire it done. The truth is she actually loves Walter. She’d forgive him even if he did step out of line.”
Morgan nodded. “Voice of experience?”
I shrugged. “You might say that.”
Everyone fell silent, as if absorbing the possibilities, trying to shake out which one made the most sense.
“What if Walter was the target?” Nicole asked.
Everyone looked at her.
“I mean, not directly. Maybe someone wanted to frame him for her murder. Someone who had a beef with him. Someone who knew about the affair. Someone who knew he’d be there that night and what time he usually came and went.”
“Came and went?” Morgan raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. Poor turn of phrase,” Nicole said, smiling. “But Walter’s an attorney. Attorneys make enemies. Criminal enemies. Ones who wouldn’t hesitate to kill or frame someone for a murder. And Walter’s rich. Rich folks make rich enemi
es. Ones who can easily afford to hire a pro.”
Morgan’s forehead creased and his gaze dropped as if considering what she had said.
“Henry was into software, wasn’t he?” Nicole asked.
Morgan nodded. “Made his first fortune in that world. Now making a second one in real estate.”
“So maybe Henry was the target,” Nicole said. “He just wasn’t home. Or maybe someone was trying to frame him. I mean, some of those software geeks are like gangsta rappers. Long on cash but short on walking-around sense. Could be a competitor hired the guy to either kill Henry or frame him for the murder, but he didn’t know Henry was away. It’s hard to kill a guy who isn’t there and just as hard to frame someone who’s a thousand miles away.”
I looked at her in awe. The more I saw of her the more impressed I was. Beauty and brains. I was in way over my head here.
“Came up with that on your own, did you?” Morgan asked.
She squared her shoulders, and gave him a glare that could melt steel. “Some blonds aren’t stupid.”
Morgan raised defensive hands. “Sorry. Actually I’m impressed. Good thoughts.”
“But I didn’t come up with it on my own,” Nicole said. “A couple of years ago, out in California, Orange County, same thing happened. Some computer geek offed his rival’s wife. Tried to frame hubby for it. They were bashing each other in court over some patent infringement allegation. Big money involved. Couple of hundred million, if I remember correctly. One geek lost and hired a pro to frame the other geek. So it’s not an original idea.”
“Still a good one,” Starks said.
“She’s a screenwriter,” I said, as if this explained Nicole’s insight. Which in many ways it did.
“That’s relevant how?” Morgan asked.
“She makes up stories,” I said. “Writes screenplays.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “But that one wouldn’t fly in Hollywood. Too mundane. A business competitor hiring a killer’s been done a thousand times.” She shrugged. “Now if it were space aliens or killer artichokes, Hollywood would eat it up.”
“I don’t think we’ll be dealing with homicidal vegetables here.” Morgan smiled and then looked at each of us in turn. “Any other story ideas come to mind?”
No one responded.
Then to Nicole and me, Morgan said, “We’ll need to take a statement from you two.”
