Revenge of Innocents

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  Had Carolyn been the one to push her over the edge?

  Veronica had also been vague about whether or not she was going to be her maid of honor. She was shattered enough by the woman’s death without thinking she might somehow be responsible. Perhaps being involved in the investigation was more than she could handle. “How did Veronica get that rash on her back and legs?” she asked. “It looks like carpet burn. And the person who rented the room was a black male using a stolen credit card. How do you explain that?”

  “Let’s try to deal with one thing at a time,” Hank said, taking a seat and placing his hands on the table. “Forensics found traces of Comet in the tub and on Veronica’s clothing. We originally thought the killer scrubbed her with the stuff to make sure he got rid of all the evidence. Charley says there’s a possibility that Veronica may have been allergic to some of the ingredients in the cleanser. All she had to do was sit in the tub and she would have experienced the same reaction. If the killer scrubbed her, there’d be a rash on the front of her body as well the back.” He stopped and ran his finger underneath his nose. “The Motor Inn isn’t exactly the Ritz. They still use actual keys. Veronica could have rented the room in the past with the intention of killing herself, then chickened out. She could have kept the key intentionally or by accident.”

  “So she drives by the place yesterday,” Mary said, “notices the parking lot is empty, and uses the key to enter the room. I hate to admit it, but it makes sense.”

  Carolyn continued to pace.

  Hank looked down at the table, then raised his eyes and focused on Carolyn. The Motor Inn was built thirty years ago. A credit card or a driver’s license would have opened the door. Veronica’s husband had her insured for a million dollars, Carolyn. In a suicide, her family would get nothing. If she was murdered, the double indemnity clause would kick in. Leaving two mil to your husband and kids might be worth staging your own death.”

  “Okay,” Carolyn said, linking eyes with Hank, “tell me how she got the blood out of her clothes after she allegedly killed herself.”

  “She filled the tub with water,” Hank speculated. “Or it might have been full from an earlier bath. She could have released the plug just before she pulled the trigger. As to the blood on her clothes, the forensic guys didn’t want to spray them with Luminol until they tested for other chemicals. I’m sure the lab will find blood in the fibers of the material.”

  Mary slipped out of the room, returning with four cans of Coke. She gave one to Keith and Hank, then walked down and handed one to Carolyn. Sitting down on the edge of the table with her back to the men, she said in a hushed voice, “I’m sure you had a rough day yesterday. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

  Carolyn pressed the cold soda can to her forehead. “I won’t be able to rest until I know what really happened. I appreciate your concern, though. I feel like I’m already getting on everyone’s nerves.”

  “Not at all,” Mary told her. “Hank went to the chief and demanded that you be part of the task force. He did it because you knew Veronica, you’re an excellent investigator, and also so we could look out for your safety.”

  “Marcus hired bodyguards for Rebecca and John,” Carolyn said, setting the Coke down and wrapping her arms around her chest. “I’m not sure if we need them now. Veronica may have dropped the note off at the morgue herself, and no one noticed it until later. I couldn’t figure out how a stranger would know so much about me. Suicides sometimes do things like that to make it harder to back out.”

  Once they returned to their seats, Carolyn told them what she’d learned about Jude, and requested they broadcast an attempt to locate on her. They’d hit a dead end on Phillip Bramson. Gary Conrad had spoken to one of the men at the car wash where he’d been employed. He told him Bramson had mentioned leaving the state several weeks back. He’d sold his car, so the vehicle information they had was no longer valid.

  Carolyn had intended to track down Tyler Bell, but she hadn’t had time. Now that there was a possibility Veronica had committed suicide, contacting him didn’t seem as urgent. If Bell had committed three murders in Ventura, two of which he’d gotten away with, she doubted he would flee the area. She would privately follow up on the things Brad had told her regarding Stuart Greenly. There was no reason to tarnish Veronica’s reputation unless the new information had some bearing on the case.

  At four o’clock, Carolyn carried her computer notebook to Mary’s office and printed off a list of the men and women Veronica had investigated or supervised during the past four years. She distributed them to the people in the conference room, leaving an extra set for Gary Conrad. “These are the offenders who aren’t presently in custody in Ventura,” she told them. “I should be able to provide you with more detailed information by tomorrow. You might want to have someone run the names through the national system and see if they’re in jail in another jurisdiction. I’d like to stay longer,” she added, “but I need to go back to my office and start reassigning Veronica’s caseload.”

  Hank followed her outside in the hall. “This is a homicide until we establish definitive proof she committed suicide.”

  The stress of the past two days was taking its toll. Carolyn’s eyes were swollen from crying, and her neck and back muscles were aching. “That may never happen,” she told him. “You know what’s the worst thing about this? If I hadn’t had my head up my ass, I might have stopped her.”

  Hank scowled.

  “You can’t blame yourself. What about her husband? He lived with her. He told us everything was fine.” He waited as a uniformed officer walked past. “I didn’t mention it before, but we found a bottle of pills in her purse. She was taking an antidepressant called Lexapro.” He stopped and pulled out a toothpick, shoving it between his teeth. “Something about Drew Campbell rubbed me the wrong way. It was almost as if he’d been expecting something like this to happen. He even hired a nanny the day his wife died. Did Veronica say anything about them hiring someone?”

  “No,” Carolyn said. “If she was taking medication, though, it might not have been safe for her to look after the children. It’s understandable that Drew wouldn’t want anyone to know. Some people see depression as a weakness. Maybe he felt bad that he couldn’t make his wife happy.”

  “Have you seen the broad he hired?”

  “You mean the nanny?”

  “Yeah,” Hank said, resting his back against the wall. “She came by to pick up a key to the house this morning while we were there. She looked about sixteen, but Drew said she was eighteen. He says she has seven brothers and sisters. Her family lives a block over, so why does she have to live in his house? It doesn’t look right for a guy to move in a young girl a day after his wife’s death. What do you think?”

  “I agree.” Carolyn wondered if something was going on between Drew and the girl. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been having an affair, but not with a girl the same age as his daughter. From what Brad had told her, Veronica played around as well. “Should I say something to him?”

  “Not now,” Hank said. “Let’s just sit back and keep our eye on this guy. Maybe we’re wrong and Veronica was murdered. The hubby may turn out to be our killer. We have some great cards on this hand, so we might as well play them.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “Your friendship with the deceased gives you an open door. And you’re a master at working people and getting them to tell you things they had no intention of saying. Did Veronica have family?”

  “Her parents are dead,” Carolyn told him. “Emily, her kid sister, is an attorney in San Francisco. Veronica didn’t get along with her. I know her, of course. She’s a control freak. Whenever she came to town, she stayed in a hotel because the kids drove her crazy.”

  “What about Drew?”

  “He’s an only child. His mother died last year. His father died from congenital heart disease when Drew was a kid.”

  “Have you seen Veronica’s will?”

&nb
sp; Carolyn shut her eyes and then opened them. “I know where you’re going with this, Hank. I didn’t see it, but I know what’s in it. If something happened to Veronica and Drew, I was supposed to be appointed guardian of the children. I did the same thing with her. She probably changed it. If your suicide scenario turns out to be accurate, Veronica hated me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Think about it, Hank,” Carolyn said. “If you cared about someone, would you send a letter threatening them and their family?” Reading the answer in his eyes, she said, “I didn’t think so. Call me if you need me.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Wednesday, October 13—5:20 P.M.

  When Carolyn walked into her office, she found Brad Preston sitting at her desk. “I’m trying to parcel out Veronica’s cases,” he said. “We got slammed again today. I’m sorry, Carolyn, but we can’t let you take vacation leave right now. I even went to Wheeler to see if there was some way we could cover it. I told him it was your honeymoon, but he said you’d have to cancel it. Wheeler wants you to continue working with the task force, so that means we’re short two people.”

  Carolyn stared at her in-box. The files were stacked so high, there was a second stack beside it. Brad started to get up. “Stay there,” she told him, dropping down in a chair in front of her desk. “There may not be a task force.” She explained what had transpired at the police department, that the coroner might rule that Veronica’s death had been a suicide. “Do you know if Stuart Greenly is around?”

  “Yeah,” Brad said. “I saw him maybe five minutes ago. Are you going to talk to him?”

  “Yes,” Carolyn said, pushing herself to her feet.

  “Wait,” he said, loosening the knot on his tie. “Don’t mention my name. I don’t want him to walk out on us. We can’t afford to lose another investigator. And don’t you want to talk to him here?”

  “No,” she said. “If I call him into my office, it will seem too official. I thought he might be a suspect, but now I don’t know what to believe. If he was having an affair with Veronica, he may know more about her state of mind than anyone else.”

  The majority of the probation officers had already left for the day. With the new work-at-home program, even during peak hours desks sat empty. Carolyn entered Stuart Greenly’s cubical. He was talking on the phone and laughing. If he’d been Veronica’s lover, her death didn’t appear to have upset him. His dark hair was fashionably cut. He dressed like a college professor. Today he was wearing brown slacks and a Brooks Brothers shirt with a button-down collar. An expensive-looking sport jacket was draped over the back of his chair.

  Carolyn had heard that Greenly had a large trust fund, and had taken a job as a probation officer after he’d flunked the bar exam six times. Working beneath his abilities must bolster his confidence. He occasionally came across as arrogant, but the probation officers in the unit seemed to like him. She waited until he completed his call, then cleared her throat to get his attention.

  “Carolyn,” he said, falling serious. “This thing with Veronica is awful. People are calling me, telling me the job is too dangerous. You two were good friends, so I—”

  She cut him off. “Why don’t we go somewhere private where we can talk, Stuart?”

  “This is pretty damn private,” he told her. “I’m probably the only one still working. Remember that on my next performance review, will you? Preston was tough, but you’re downright brutal.”

  “Was that a personal call you were on when I came in?”

  “Hey,” he said, smiling, “you got me. One of my friends wanted to buy me dinner, but I passed. Only someone really dedicated would turn down a free meal, especially with the kind of money the county pays us.”

  “We’ll talk in an interview room,” Carolyn told him. “I don’t think you’d even want the janitors to eavesdrop on this conversation.”

  “Wow,” he exclaimed, “you certainly know how to get a guy’s attention.”

  On the right side of the floor was a row of rooms. Probation officers used them to interview defendants and victims, dictate reports to the word-processing pool, or as a place to retreat when the noise level inside the unit became too distracting.

  They entered the room nearest Greenly’s office. Carolyn closed the door behind her. Greenly took a seat at a small table. She remained standing.

  “What’s going on?” Greenly asked, rubbing his chin.

  “Were you having an affair with Veronica?”

  “No,” he said. “Why would you think such a thing? Tessa and I have a great marriage. You even came to our wedding. Besides, Veronica is…was…well, she was older. I don’t want to say anything out of line here, but she was also a little whacko. Did she tell you something was going on between us? She must have been infatuated with me. Now that I think about it, she did act odd when I was around.”

  In most instances, Carolyn would soften her subjects with small talk, waiting for them to relax before she began interrogating them. Today, she didn’t have the energy. “Don’t lie to me, Stuart,” she said. “We know you were sleeping with her. Would you rather be questioned by the police, or do you want to tell me the truth?”

  He stood and shoved his chair back to the table. “I don’t have to put up with this kind of crap,” he shouted. “You’re out of your mind if you think I had anything to do with Veronica’s death. Why would I want to have sex with a fat cow like her? Tessa was on the cover of dozens of magazines. Even if she wasn’t gorgeous, I love her and have no reason to cheat on her.”

  Except that you’re a man, Carolyn thought, remembering what Brad had told her. “Someone saw you, Stuart. They saw you having sex with Veronica in the backseat of her Ford Explorer. It was the day the power went off in the building.”

  “Who saw me? Whoever it was, they were mistaken. The day of the storm, I went home to check on Tessa. We live close and she’s terrified of lightning. If you don’t believe me, you can ask her.” He stared Carolyn straight in the eye without blinking. “Can I get back to work now? I’d like to get out of this hellhole before midnight. Preston assigned me ten new cases today. Four of them were Veronica’s. The filing deadline is the end of next week, and as far as I can tell, she hasn’t even looked at them.” He paused and then continued ranting, “I told Preston I’d work around the clock to get them done. I go out of my way to be helpful and this is the way I get treated. I don’t need this lousy job. If you want, I’ll turn in my resignation right now.”

  “No, please,” Carolyn said, backtracking. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have come down so hard on you. If you were involved with Veronica, I was hoping you could shed some light into what was going on with her. You said she was whacko. What are you referring to?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, relaxing. “She seemed out of it recently. She asked me questions about things she should have known. Shit, Veronica was my training officer. I never thought she would be asking me how to compute a sentence. Then one day last week, I was leaving to interview a guy at the jail, and Veronica told me to forget it, that I could make up his statement and no one would know the difference. At first, I thought she was joking, but then I realized she was serious.”

  God, Carolyn thought, it was worse than she thought. “Thanks, Stuart,” she said, stepping aside so he could leave. “Do me a favor. If you think of anyone who might have been involved with her, please let me know.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I shouldn’t have called her a fat cow. I was annoyed, okay? I don’t like to be accused of something I didn’t do. The truth is, I liked Veronica. She was a nice person. Do the police have any leads as to who killed her?”

  “A few,” she said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Once Greenly left, Carolyn closed the door and sat down at the table, staring at the white-painted wall in front of her. Veronica’s mental state must have been steadily deteriorating. Carolyn had been so caught up in her new position and her upcoming wedding, she’d failed to see that her friend
was in trouble.

  Veronica’s image materialized again, standing on her front porch with her most prized possession, the beautiful doll her grandmother had given her. She remembered the fresh scent of her shampoo, her toothy grin, the blue shorts outfit she’d been wearing. It was strange, she thought. It wasn’t Veronica as an adult who was haunting her. It was the child. Maybe there was some meaning there, hidden deep in her subconscious. That day so long ago, she had touched something forbidden. Whenever she and Veronica had a fight, they’d both cry and make their parents miserable until they made up. Even as a child, Veronica had been a better person. She was always the first one to say she was sorry.

  Carolyn returned to her office and called Marcus, telling him she wouldn’t be home in time for dinner. He told her not to worry about it, as Rebecca had ordered in a pizza, and he was trying to catch up with some work from the office. “I love you,” she told him, experiencing a rush of emotion.

  “Not as much as I love you,” Marcus said. “Do whatever you have to do, honey. I gave it some thought today. You’re right about postponing the wedding. I had my secretary start calling people.”

  “What about our honeymoon? You said we were going to lose money if we canceled it. Brad told me they can’t get by without me because of what happened to Veronica. He even took it to Cameron Wheeler, the head of the agency. Wheeler wants me to work on the task force investigating Veronica’s death.”

  “I bought trip insurance,” Marcus said. “I was just trying to make certain you wanted to call off the wedding. After a tragedy like this, I didn’t think you should make any rash decisions. Everything will be fine. Remember to eat, and I’m not talking about candy bars. I know you’re a chocolate junkie.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like my mother,” Carolyn joked. He’d already figured out most of her idiosyncrasies. When they went out to dinner, and someone mentioned having a dessert, she would push her food around on the plate until the waiter took it away, saving her appetite. “I’m a hopeless case. Mother gave up on me years ago.”