The Falling Girl (A Private Investigator Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Lee Callaway #3)

by Thomas Fincham

  He heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

  Did my landlady see Frank give me the money? Callaway suddenly thought. Does she want her rent now?

  To his relief, it was Jimmy. He was out of breath as he came over and sat on the sofa next to him.

  “You need to exercise,” Callaway said.

  “I need to retire,” Jimmy said.

  “I don’t know how you can.” Like him, Jimmy did not have a pension plan. Callaway doubted if he even had any savings. “You can start by slowing down.”

  Jimmy nodded. “I saw your landlady on my way over. She seemed pleasant.”

  “Only today,” Callaway said.

  “Was that Frank I saw in the restaurant?” Jimmy asked.

  “Yep, and he gave me another five hundred for all the hard work I did.”

  “You mean we did,” Jimmy said.

  Callaway paused. “You want half, like we used to?”

  Jimmy laughed. “I’m only busting your balls. It’s all yours, kid. But you wanna go down to the bar and celebrate?”

  Great minds think alike, Callaway thought. “I think I’m going to hold on to this money,” he said. “I’ve had enough fun to last me a while.”

  “Fair enough,” Jimmy said, wiping sweat from his forehead.

  Callaway’s phone buzzed. He answered. He listened, spoke, and then after five minutes, he hung up with a frown.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked, concerned.

  “It was Fisher.”

  “And?”

  “She was able to track down the driver from the license plate number, but the driver said he had already provided his taxi’s CCTV footage to another detective.”

  Jimmy shot up from the sofa. “Which detective?”

  “The driver’s not sure, but he said the detective took the entire data storage unit as evidence.”

  “How’s that even possible?”

  “The driver is a new immigrant. He barely spoke English, so he had no idea who Dillon Scott was or that he was with a girl. Fisher pushed him, but he kept saying he gets a lot of passengers during his shift and he doesn’t pay too much attention to them,” Callaway replied. “Maybe that’s why this detective was able to convince the driver to hand over the footage without much protest.”

  Jimmy’s mouth was open. “So what are you saying? We don’t have anything on who this girl might be?”

  Callaway didn’t want the old man to have a heart attack. He smiled and said, “Fortunately, the vehicle is affiliated with a taxi corporation. All footage is transmitted wirelessly to their main office. The backup is stored for thirty days. It is wiped clean after that period. Fisher will visit the main office first thing in the morning. She assured me she will have the footage soon enough.”

  Jimmy exhaled. “Well, that’s good to hear. I still say we go and celebrate.”

  “Jimmy…” Callaway began to protest. He could feel the envelope with the money burning a hole in his pocket.

  “Relax, kid,” Jimmy said as he pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his sock. “I keep this for emergencies, and for times when I need to reward myself. If you’re interested, drinks on me.”

  Callaway smiled. “In that case, count me in.”

  SEVENTY

  Callaway groaned as an unpleasant sound pounded in his ears. He grumbled and then blinked a few times to clear the fog from his eyes.

  The sound did not cease, getting louder by the minute.

  How’s that even possible? he thought.

  He squinted and looked around. He was on the bed in his hotel room. He tried to get up, but a sharp pain pierced his skull. The noise stopped, and he shut his eyes to let his mind adjust.

  He had a splitting headache. He knew why. The night before, after leaving the office, he and Jimmy had gone to the bar around the corner. They were only supposed to have one drink, but they were having so much fun that they ended up having one too many.

  I can’t do this every time I go out, he thought.

  When he saw he was wearing no shoes, he jumped off the bed. He felt dizzy. He placed his hand on the wall for support and then searched for his boots. He found them next to the front door.

  There were a few times when he had lost his shoes while out drinking. Once, it was during a blizzard. It was still a mystery as to how he made it to his house without them. He was glad he didn’t lose any toes to frostbite.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. He remembered leaving the bar with Jimmy. He also remembered walking with Jimmy to his hotel room.

  A thought hit him like a thunderbolt. He instinctively reached for his jacket. He let out a long sigh of relief. The envelope with the money was still in the inside pocket. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jimmy. Callaway was worried he might have spent all the money at the bar.

  Callaway was a happy drunk, and he was known to give generous tips. There were times when he would return to the bar the next day and beg the owner or bartender to return the tips. This would not go over too well, and the people who received the tips would downright refuse. They had earned the money, after all. Some, however, would pity his situation and agree. They must have thought he was a no-good drunk who was used to throwing all his money away on booze.

  He went into the bathroom, washed up, and returned to the bed. He searched his jacket pocket again and found the culprit that broke his sleep: his cell phone.

  There were several missed calls, and they were all from Fisher.

  Maybe she found something on the taxi cab’s CCTV, he thought. He then checked the time and realized it was still early in the morning. Man, this lady is dedicated. She must have spent the entire night hounding the taxi company to provide her with the footage.

  He pressed Redial. Before he could say a word, Fisher’s voice came on. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for over an hour.”

  “Sorry, I was sleeping,” he said. “Which, by the way, you should do more of as well.”

  “Lee,” her voice was hard. “You have to come to the station.”

  “Okay, I’ll drop by later.”

  “No! Right now!”

  He was startled by her response. His back tensed. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  The line went dead.

  SEVENTY-ONE

  Callaway arrived at the Milton PD. He found Fisher waiting for him by the elevators. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “It’s about Jimmy,” she replied.

  “What happened? Is he okay?” he asked, concerned.

  “He’s fine… but…”

  “But what?”

  “Lee,” she said slowly. “Jimmy just confessed to killing Dillon Scott.”

  Callaway stared at her. He burst out laughing.

  Fisher scowled. “What’s so funny?”

  “Jimmy’s probably drunk. Last night we were out at a bar and we had way too much to drink. I don’t even remember how I got home.”

  “Listen,” she said sternly. “He confessed to the crime. He even agreed to it being recorded, and on the video, he stated that he is of sound mind and that he is under no duress and/or under the influence of alcohol or narcotics.”

  Callaway was still smiling. “I don’t believe it. I know the man. He’s a lot of things—a dirtbag, a cheat, a swindler—but he is no murderer. That I can assure you.”

  “He told me exactly how the crime was committed. He had information no one knew except for me. The press was never provided the details, and I never told you or anyone else either. Not even Holt.”

  Callaway turned pale. “What did he tell you?”

  Fisher was silent.

  “Please, Dana. He’s my friend. What did he tell you about the murder?”

  Fisher exhaled. “The press was told Scott’s death was caused by blunt force trauma. They didn’t know he was hit on the head with a heavy object—specifically, an ivory bookend.”

  Callaway blinked. “He told you that?”
<
br />   “He described the bookend in detail.”

  “Maybe he accessed the crime scene. He’s done it before on other cases. Jimmy doesn’t go by the book, you know.”

  “We have an officer stationed twenty-four seven outside the property. It’s a high-profile case, so we’re not taking any chances. Also, there were two ivory bookends in the house. One was taken by Scott’s attacker, and the other we removed as evidence. There is no way for a person to go into the house now and know they were even there.”

  Callaway swallowed.

  “He also knew there was a stain on the carpet. When the police got there, it had been cleaned. He said it was vomit. After he killed Scott, he threw up from the shock of what he had done. He also removed two glasses from the scene. He said the glasses contained his and Scott’s fingerprints. They apparently had a drink before the altercation. Jimmy had bourbon, and Scott had wine.”

  Callaway felt like someone had placed a giant boulder on his chest. He could barely breathe. “It doesn’t make sense,” he slowly said. “Why have a drink with someone and then kill them?”

  “I asked him the same question,” Fisher replied. “He said he showed up at Scott’s house unannounced. He had introduced himself as a local producer. He was desperate, and he wanted information out of Scott regarding Gail’s death. When the truth came out about who he was, Scott ordered him out of the house. Things got out of hand, and Jimmy took the bookend and hit him on the head. The medical examiner believes the attacker was over six feet. Jimmy is the same height.”

  “But why would he confess now?”

  “He said the guilt was eating away at him. He couldn’t take it, and he decided to save you and me the trouble of investigating this further. He has asked for leniency. The murder was not premeditated, although he did try to cover up the crime, but his confession and remorse will go a long way to convince the prosecutor to accept a plea bargain. I will push for it.”

  Callaway’s knees buckled under him. He quickly sat on the nearest chair.

  He covered his face with his hands.

  Fisher came over and sat next to him. “I’m so sorry, Lee.”

  His head was spinning, and the first thing he thought of was reaching for a drink. This was a nightmare he never thought possible.

  Jimmy… a killer?

  He lifted his head up. “Can I see him?” he asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” Fisher replied. “He’s been read his rights, but he hasn’t been charged of any crime yet. I have seventy-two hours to charge him, though, so it’s not something I need to do right at this moment.”

  “Thanks, Dana.”

  “One more thing,” Fisher said. “He has refused counsel. Maybe you can convince him to change his mind. This is a serious crime he’s confessed to, and he’s going to need all the help he can get.”

  SEVENTY-TWO

  Jimmy was seated in a windowless room. A metal table was in the middle, with chairs on

  either side of it. The room’s walls were painted white but had started to turn yellowish.

  Jimmy looked drained. He smiled when he saw Callaway. “Hey, kid,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

  Jimmy wasn’t cuffed, but he didn’t offer his hand for Callaway to shake. Callaway stared at him for a good minute before he took the chair across from him and sat down. “Jimmy, tell me this is some kind of a sick joke.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Jimmy replied.

  “What are you doing?” Callaway’s voice quivered. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know it doesn’t, but I couldn’t hide it anymore.”

  “How could you hide it from me?”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you, kid.”

  “You could have said you made a mistake, that it was an accident. I would have tried to help you.”

  “Like how?” Jimmy asked. “You would have hired me the best lawyer money could buy? You and I both know people like us are not good with money. The only lawyer I’ll get is the one appointed by the court. And most of them are either straight out of law school and inexperienced, or too overworked and jaded to give a damn about what happens to an old man like me.”

  “Is that why you didn’t want a lawyer?” Callaway asked.

  “What would be the point? I said I did it, and I am willing to pay for my crime.”

  Callaway sighed and rubbed his temples. He could feel a migraine coming on. “I’m confused, Jimmy. Help me understand what’s going on.”

  “There is nothing to explain, kid. I killed Dillon Scott.”

  “But why?”

  “He knew what happened to Gail and he wouldn’t tell me.”

  “He knew nothing!” Callaway said, raising his voice. “He wasn’t even in Bayview at the time of her death. He was miles away, shooting a movie in Vermont. Isn’t that what you told me? So what made you go to his house and confront him? Tell me!”

  Jimmy was quiet for a moment. “Gail didn’t die because of an accident,” he said. “She didn’t commit suicide.”

  “What proof do you have?” Callaway demanded, pounding the table. “No one saw anyone in her apartment at the time of her fall, so what proof do you have?”

  “I don’t have any proof, and that’s what frustrates me!” Jimmy yelled back. “I promised her family I would get to the bottom of this. I’ve spent a year looking into her death from every angle imaginable, and I’ve come up empty.”

  “You know why you haven’t found anything?” Callaway leaned closer. “Because there is nothing to find. No one is responsible for Gail’s death. But you are now responsible for Dillon Scott’s death.” Callaway got up and paced the room. “How could you, Jimmy? How could you play me like a fool?”

  Jimmy stared at him in silence.

  Callaway balled his fists. “You didn’t come to me for help with finding Gail’s killer, you came to me so you could get information on Fisher’s investigation. You knew she and I were friends.”

  “I had no idea,” Jimmy protested.

  “Stop it!” Callaway spat. “Your lies end here. You said you kept an eye on what I’d been up to. You knew about the cases I’d worked on. I know for a fact you never jump into anything without doing your homework. It’s something I learned from you. What was that phrase you used to say when you were training me?” Callaway searched his mind. “Yes, I remember. ‘Whenever you go into a situation, make sure you know all the exits. You never know when you’re going to have to make a run for it.’”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I don’t remember saying it…”

  “I do! Because I’ve always wanted to be like you.”

  Jimmy winced and looked away. Callaway’s words had stung him like a hot poker.

  Callaway was still fuming. “When you showed up at my office, I was over the moon with joy. When we worked together on the Henderson case, it felt like the good old times. I never thought for a minute you were only spending time with me to save yourself.”

  Jimmy’s shoulders sagged. He nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I never meant to use you. When something like this happens, your survival instincts kick in. I just wanted to find a way out of it.”

  “You murdered someone, Jimmy!” Callaway roared. “And you wanted my help to cover it up!”

  Jimmy opened his mouth but then shut it.

  “You are nothing but a selfish prick, you now that?” Callaway said. “I hope they hang you for what you did.”

  Callaway left the room.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  Fisher watched as Callaway stormed past her. “Lee,” she said. He didn’t stop, nor did he turn to her. He wiped his eyes and disappeared down the hall.

  She thought about going after him, but she knew he needed space. Jimmy meant a lot to him. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

  When Jimmy walked into the Milton PD and specifically asked for her, she was not surprised. She figured he wanted to know what she had found during her trip to Bayview. She wasn’t sure how much to divulge to him, th
ough. Jimmy was Callaway’s friend, not hers. Plus, she had already crossed a line by telling Jimmy and Callaway certain details about her investigation. She was prepared to fill Jimmy in on whatever she had on Gail Roberts’s death, but she would go no further.

  Before she could speak, he told her he had a confession to make. Her response—which she now regretted—was “Go confess to a priest.” But the look on his face told her he was serious.

  She took him to an interview room, and he had laid it all out for her. Her shock matched Callaway’s. His confession had come out of left field. She never realized all along that the real killer was right in front of her. Her initial instinct was to arrest him on the spot, but she didn’t want to jump the gun.

  Even though he told her he was there on his own volition, she had to make sure she did it by the book. She asked him a series of questions, and he answered them without a stutter. She asked if he would agree to confess on tape. He agreed without hesitation. He even offered to sign a written confession on top of the video. He wanted her to have an ironclad statement.

  She remembered his words vividly: “Detective Fisher, I don’t want you wasting your time investigating this case any further. You have your killer, and he is sitting before you.”

  In other circumstances, Fisher would have been elated. But she was not. This was too much too fast. Even though Jimmy’s reasoning was that he could no longer take the guilt, she had to be sure she had the right man. If she did not, Jimmy’s confession could blow up in her face.

  She took Jimmy’s confession, but she told him she would confirm certain details of his story. Jimmy was a person of interest in Dillon Scott’s death. After she had all the facts, he would be formally charged. Jimmy sounded displeased, but he accepted her decision.

  She got the impression he wanted this behind him as soon as possible, but there were procedures she had to follow, and they required time. She also wanted the opportunity to speak to Callaway. He had a right to know what his friend was up to.