Double Duplicity: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #1

by Paty Jager

  Ryan picked up the folder and walked to the door. Outside the room, he motioned to Blane who watched the interrogation room from a desk. “Put him in a cell until he’s so dt’d he’s ready to talk. Then go to the gallery and box up every piece of paper in that office. I want to know what he was looking for.”

  Blane nodded and marched into the interrogation room.

  Ryan looked at his watch. It was about time he caught up with Doring and flashed the sketch at him.

  ~*~

  Shandra arrived home and turned on the computer. She did an online search of Oscar Rowan, noting he was a relative new-comer to the large art scene, but had been building his art form in Seattle. There was very little about his past, where he went to school, or if he had family. Just a photo of him and his creations which seemed to be stylistically different.

  She typed in Sidney Doring. Multiple sites came up for him. He’d lived in Seattle before moving to Huckleberry. As a young man he was quite the partier. He used family money to buy his way into Huckleberry Lodge according to the Weippe County Chronicle.

  Next, she typed in Paula Doring. The only information she could find on her was connected to the gallery and her marriage. How did someone marry a rich man and have no background?

  Shandra glanced at her cell phone sitting on the desk in front of the computer monitor. Ryan knew Paula’s past. He’d eluded to it earlier today and clammed up. What was in her past? Did it have anything to do with her death?

  Clicking through the photo gallery of the Doring Gallery events, she paused on a photo of Paula and Oscar standing beside the warrior with the spear. Anyone checking out the photos would see the statue. But how would they know the spearhead came off? She clicked back to Oscar’s website and scrolled to the section about the warrior. There it was. An inquisitive person could read this information and know the spearhead was taken off for packing.

  That meant anyone who looked at this website could be a suspect. She popped a caramel in her mouth and sat back in her chair, staring at the computer screen. This investigation just went in circles. How did Ryan keep from going nuts when investigating something like this?

  Shandra turned off the computer and went to bed. She had an order to finish tomorrow. As long as Ryan wasn’t accusing Naomi of killing Paula, she had better things to do than try to play detective.

  ~*~

  Ryan stood at the bar in the lodge. He’d learned through the registration clerk that Doring had been out of town but was expected to return this evening. Being the largest stockholder in the lodge, Doring had an apartment on the upper floor. The clerk had agreed to let Ryan know when the owner arrived.

  He pivoted leaning his back against the bar and surveyed the nearly full room. For a week night the bar had a brisk business. Most of the people appeared to be guests of the lodge. Vacationers using the lodge as the base for day hikes and rafting excursions. He noticed one older couple who were at the art event. Flipping through the night in his mind, he remembered seeing Shandra speaking with the woman.

  After scoping out the room, he started to turn back around when two people parted and he spotted a couple that surprised him. Picking up his iced tea, he sauntered across the room and stopped at the table.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Norton, I didn’t take you for the bar scene type.” Ryan lowered himself onto a chair as Naomi’s frightened gaze latched onto him. Ted cursed under his breath.

  “We come here now and then to relax.” Ted picked up what looked like whiskey on the rocks and took a sip.

  Ryan tuned into the exhaustion in the man’s voice. “This seems like a large crowd for a weeknight. Is it always like this?”

  “We don’t usually come here.” Naomi blurted.

  Ted shook his head and peered at his wife.

  “I figured as much. You both look like cats with someone rocking on your tails. Want to let me know why you’re here?” He leveled a stare at each one then leaned back in his chair when they only gave one another furtive glances. “I have a feeling we’re waiting for the same person.”

  Naomi started to open her mouth, but Ted placed a hand on her arm, staying whatever had been about to spill out.

  “Who are you waiting for?” Ted asked.

  “Sidney Doring.” Ryan kept his attention on the woman. She couldn’t hide her emotions. Sure enough, she exhaled and fidgeted with the already shredded napkin in her hands.

  “What makes you think we’re waiting for Sidney?” The husband’s calculated question didn’t fool Ryan.

  “Because you think he has answers about Joyce.” Ryan hid the triumph he felt behind his standard blank cop expression. But watching the two peer at one another and shift in their seats validated his assumption. They thought because Paula had incriminating pictures of Joyce, the woman’s husband would know something about Naomi’s sister.

  Taking pity on the two, he smiled. “Why don’t you two go on home? I’ll ask my questions and ask him about Joyce.” He didn’t want to let them know he already felt the two women were connected in some way other than just their addictions.

  Naomi’s eyes glistened with tears. “You’ll tell us whatever you learn about her? Bad or good?”

  As much as he wanted to keep Naomi Norton on his suspect list, her fragility didn’t fit the strength or bravado it would take to plunge a blunt object like the spear through a rib cage.

  “Yes. I’ll tell you everything I learn about your sister.” He’d printed out the files the King County detective sent him on the woman. When the Doring murder investigation was over, he’d give a copy to Naomi.

  “Thank you.” Naomi stood. “Come on Ted. I don’t think my nerves can stand waiting any longer or asking the questions.”

  The relief that softened the etched lines on Ted’s face proved he hadn’t had the stomach to confront Doring either. Ryan was sure if he hadn’t been here to deflect the two, Doring would have out-maneuvered and lorded over the couple.

  Ryan watched the Nortons exit the bar. He followed behind, making sure they weren’t pulling a fast one. They left the building and handed a ticket to the valet. Once their car pulled away with them in it, he sauntered over to the registration desk.

  “Mr. Doring arrive yet?”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The young woman blushed. “Yes. I’m sorry. Things got crazy with people registering, and I forgot to tell you. He’s in his apartment.”

  “And that is…?”

  “Oh, sorry! Go up the elevator to the fourth floor and then take a right. It’s the door at the end of the hall.” She picked up the phone. “Do you want me to announce you?”

  “No. I’d prefer he didn’t come up with an excuse to not see me.”

  Ryan headed to the elevator, punched in four, and prayed the woman didn’t decide her job depended on her warning her boss.

  He stepped out of the elevators and strode down the hall to the right. Ten feet from the door, it opened and out stepped a young curvy woman dressed in a revealing dress.

  “You promised we’d spend the week together,” she pouted, looking back over her shoulder.

  “Babe, I can’t have you around here now that my wife has been murdered.” Doring’s voice barely carried down the hall to Ryan.

  He moved quickly to the open door. “Excuse me.” Ryan grasped the woman’s arm, directing her back into the room. “I have several questions about that.”

  Doring glared at Ryan, and then the woman Ryan held by the arm.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked, yanking her arm from his grasp.

  “Detective Greer of the Weippe County Sheriff’s Department. I’m in charge of investigating the murder of Paula Doring.” Ryan pulled out his notepad. “And you are?”

  “Tammy Smith. I don’t know anything about Sidney’s wife other than she died a few days ago.” Ms. Smith backed away from Sidney. “I don’t know what the police are doing investigating you but don’t call me. I don’t like the odds of being your girl.”

  She put a hand o
ut as if to move Ryan out of the doorway. He made note of her comment about “the odds.”

  “Ms. Smith, where were you this past Friday afternoon?”

  “I was in Seattle, preparing for my trip here.” She tossed a seductive glance toward Doring. “Sidney and I had plans to spend this week together.”

  “You do know he is/was a married man?” Ryan couldn’t believe the scruples of the people involved in this case.

  “He was working on a divorce. That shrew he married was spreading her legs for anything in pants and denying him.” She took a step toward Doring, then seemed to have second thoughts.

  Doring’s face was a deep shade of red as he held his temper in check. The pulsing vein in his forehead and tightly fisted hands proved he didn’t like Ms. Smith giving information so freely.

  “Could I have your phone number in case I have any follow up questions?”

  She recited her phone number. Ryan stepped aside, allowing her to leave. He shut the door of the apartment and leveled his gaze on Doring. “I have some questions for you, Mr. Doring.”

  Doring motioned for Ryan to enter the room farther and walked over to a small bar.

  “Can I get you anything, detective?” The cool timbre of his words revealed Doring was barely holding in his anger.

  “No, thank you.” Ryan sat on a leather chair and waited for Doring to sit. Once the man was seated and sipping his drink, Ryan began.

  “Did you have any interest in your wife’s gallery besides giving it cash infusions every month?”

  Doring leaned forward. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but I didn’t give Paula any financial help with that damn gallery.”

  Ryan peered at the man. He peered back, unflinching. “You weren’t putting money into the gallery account the beginning of every month?” Was the woman a call girl on the side?

  “No. If she was putting money in you can bet it was probably made on her back. She sinks her claws in good and you don’t realize what you’ve gotten yourself into until it’s too late.” The man drained his drink and stood. “You sure you don’t want a drink?”

  Ryan waved him off and pulled the sketch out of his pocket. When Doring sat back down, Ryan handed the sketch to him. “Do you know this man?”

  Doring’s eyes widened before they narrowed. “What does he have to do with my wife’s death?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Do you know him?”

  “Yes. He’s a private detective from Seattle I hired.” Doring gulped his drink and set the glass on a side table. “I hired Terrance to come up with information on Paula that I could use in the divorce.”

  “Terrance? As in Terrance Baylor?” That was a hard name to forget. It was the same private detective Naomi had used to find her sister.

  “Yes. If you know him, how come you didn’t recognize him?” Doring started posturing like a CEO.

  “I’ve only heard of him. Naomi Norton had him find her sister, Joyce.”

  Doring’s eyes lit up, and he leaned forward. “You mean Terrance knew Joyce?”

  “He apparently knew your wife as well. They had an argument the day before your wife was murdered and a witness says Paula said to him…” Ryan flipped through his notepad. “Your showing up is poor timing.” He glanced up at Doring. The vein in his forehead was pulsing again. “Any idea what she meant by that?”

  “Damn that Baylor. He’s been telling me he’s having trouble getting anything on Paula. Apparently he knew my wife.” He stood up and kicked the side table sending the table and contents crashing across the room. “That whore was probably sleeping with him too!” He rubbed his hands over his face. “How could I have been so stupid?”

  Doring stalked to the bar, turned over a glass, and poured more whiskey. He didn’t bother with the ice and guzzled the liquid.

  Ryan watched and waited. With luck, the liquor would give the man loose lips and thoughts. When he’d downed that glass, Ryan cleared his throat. Doring started at the sound and faced him.

  “What can you tell me about your wife and Joyce Carter?”

  Tears glistened in Doring’s eyes. “Joyce was a sweet woman. Gorgeous inside and out. When she told me what her boyfriend had done, getting her hooked on drugs and making her do things she didn’t want to do, my heart went out to her, and I tucked her under my wing. We were seeing each other, I thought secretly, waiting for some business to get finished so I could divorce Paula.” He poured another drink, took a swallow, and the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. “Joyce was the woman who could make me monogamous. All I wanted was to be with her. I’ve never felt that way about another woman. Not even my wife.”

  Doring sat down and stared into his drink. “I made the mistake of suggesting she try for the job at the gallery. When I mentioned to Paula I’d take it as a favor if she’d help Joyce out, I more or less put the noose around Joyce’s neck. I should never have put those two together. Paula was like a shark. If she smelled blood she went in for the kill. And Joyce was sweet and innocent for all that she’d been through.”

  “I heard that her boyfriend dumped her when Paula started broadcasting Joyce’s past around town.”

  The man sobbed. He dropped his drink on the floor and grasped his head. The amber liquid sloshed over his shiny black shoes. “I thought if I dumped Joyce, Paula would leave her alone. But that only made Joyce feel more vulnerable. Every time I tried to help her, I only pushed her toward her death.” Doring peered up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I’ll go to my grave taking the blame for Joyce’s death.”

  “Did you give her the overdose?”

  “No! I know how getting her life back from drugs had given her an inner strength.”

  “Then you didn’t kill her.” Ryan decided to use the man’s incapacitated state to get some more information. “Did you know your wife planned to marry Juan Lida after the divorce?”

  Doring started laughing. His uproarious mirth took a minute to slow.

  “You find that information funny?” Ryan had the same feeling when he’d heard the proclamation from Lida.

  “Paula would never marry anyone who couldn’t put more money into her bank account. She might have been sleeping with him and making him promises to do her bidding, but she would never have married him.” He swung an arm out. “This is the lifestyle she likes. Her gallery could not give her this lifestyle and neither could that dime-store artist.”

  “She could have loved the man.”

  “Paula only loved two things: herself and money.” Doring picked up the toppled cup from the floor and walked to the bar. “In the beginning, she was so hot and complying I’d thought I’d hit the jackpot. If I had to be hitched it wouldn’t be so bad to have an experienced woman in my bed that said yes to all my wishes.” A sardonic grin quirked his lips. “It was all a game to suck me in. A month after the marriage she showed her true side; selfish and conniving.”

  “Did you know what her profession was before you married her?” Ryan had to know if the man was so blinded by lust that he ignored the woman’s past.

  “She sold cosmetics at a large department store. I met her when I was getting perfume for my, at that time, girlfriend.” Doring sat down. His gaze wasn’t focusing. He looked ready to pass out.

  “I would have thought a man like you would have done a background check.”

  “I did. I used Terrance Baylor.” Doring’s head snapped back. He pointed his chin at Ryan and peered down his nose. “What are you skirting around?”

  “I have copies of your wife’s arrest records. She was a drug addict and prostitute before she married you.”

  “Get out! Get out!” Doring flung his glass at Ryan. He not only missed, he tumbled to the floor.

  Ryan closed the door and headed to the office to dig up all he could on Terrance Baylor. Specifically, his current vehicle and plate.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The man from the sketch had his face painted—one side red and one side black. Shandra
watched from behind the warrior statue as the man opened crates and unwrapped works of art. He moved about searching. Ella’s face appeared like a ghost in the darkness beyond the man and Shandra recognized the Doring Gallery. Why was he searching the packed art objects?

  Ryan emerged from the darkness. A loud boom and flash of orange jolted her heart.

  Shandra shot to a sitting position and stared into the darkness of her bedroom. Her body shook as drying perspiration made her skin sticky and itch. She grabbed her cell phone and hit the on button. Light blinded her momentarily before she searched for Ryan’s number. He’d told her to call if she had another dream. This time he was in it and in danger. With no regard to the time, she pushed the number and listened to the phone ring.

  “Greer.”

  Ryan’s scratchy voice made her wince.

  “Sorry, to wake you, but you said to call if I had another dream.”

  Creaking sifted through the phone as he shifted. “Shandra?” A click sounded like a light switch. “What was it?”

  “The man from the sketch—”

  “Terrance Baylor.”

  “You know who he is? How is he connected to Sidney? Was he paid to kill Paula?” She had so many questions bouncing around in her head she felt motion sick.

  “Whoa, I’ll answer all that later. What happened in your dream?”

  “The man, Baylor, had his face painted half red and half black as he searched the crated and wrapped art pieces in the back room at Doring Gallery.”

  Cursing hissed from the phone. “When we went back to the gallery and found Rowan, it didn’t connect until now. The back room wasn’t as neat and tidy as it was the first couple times we were there.”

  “Do you think he’s already found what he was looking for?”

  “I don’t know. I think I know what he was looking for and there should still be traces.” Clothing and movement rustled on the other end of the phone.

  “What are you going to do?” He could be in danger if he went to the gallery. She woke before learning who shot the gun or if anyone was injured.