The Ring of Fire: The Dragon Dream: Book Two

by Robin Janney

  “Mike’s a good kid,” Les commented absently. “Do you have any receipts with a time stamp? Since they were asking about times, there’s a good chance you’ll need an alibi.”

  “Actually, yeah. I’ve got the receipt from the taxi I took, the slip from the hotel. Starbucks.” Craig sighed. He just wanted to go home.

  Les nodded. “Good. Let’s hope you don’t need them.”

  “I hope it’s nothing serious. I’d like to go home today.”

  “I expected as much.” Les leaned forward and gripped his son’s shoulder. “If you didn’t do anything, then it will work itself out. When the cops get here, just try not to look as guilty as you do right now.”

  Craig managed a wry smile. “The only thing I’m guilty of is hurting my wife, but I’ll try.”

  It was indeed a short wait for the police to return to the penthouse. As spacious as the living room was, it felt crowded with five people in it. Craig sat on the couch, his stepmother next to him and his father in his wheelchair between the couch and recliner chair. Craig was grateful for his father’s steady hand on his shoulder, but wished Veronica had chosen to sit elsewhere.

  And of course, it was the same two detectives who were also investigating his father’s shooting.

  “Well, Misters Moore and Mrs. Moore, here we are again. Craig, we were wondering if you could tell us your whereabouts last night.” Leila’s face wore the same no-nonsense expression she’d worn the last time Craig had seen them in Les’ hospital room.

  “Is there a particular time?” asked Craig. “I was in several places.”

  “Give us a run down, starting with when you left the hotel where you took a room with Kathryn Davis-Miller. The front desk has you checking out shortly after one-thirty a.m., but not Kathryn.”

  Craig grimaced despite his best effort not to. “That’s right. I caught a cab, made a few phone calls and then went to my friend Mikey’s place. Ah, Mike Castlebury. I was there until shortly after seven this morning, took another taxi from there. Stopped at a Starbucks for coffee, walked from there and got back here about nine.”

  “Who did you call last night?” Leila asked.

  “My wife. Mikey. The airport. I have a flight booked for a couple hours from now.” Craig shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to the woman. “You can look if you want.”

  “You might want to cancel your flight.” The detective took the smartphone from him, her short fingers making quick work across the phone’s touchscreen. “Look pretty anxious to get in touch with your wife.”

  “I almost cheated on her, so yeah, I have a lot to make up for,” admitted Craig.

  “Almost?” she inquired.

  “Almost. I didn’t sleep with Katie.”

  Leila nodded. She held the phone to her partner Stafford, who made furious notations on his notepad. “We may have to access your account, make sure you didn’t erase anything from your phone.”

  “I have nothing to hide, so feel free,” Craig answered, and leaned back against the couch. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

  “Not yet,” the woman said apologetically. “Where were you around two-fifteen?”

  “Still in the taxi.” He’d leaned back too soon, he thought as he leaned forward and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Opening it, he pulled out the receipt he almost hadn’t gotten from the taxi driver. Grateful for that spur-of-the-moment decision, he handed the thin paper to the woman who still held his phone. He also handed her the receipt he’d gotten from Starbucks this morning for good measure, and the receipt from this morning’s taxi as well.

  Leila took the receipts in her other hand, looked at the phone as a generic ringtone began. “Jared?”

  “My brother-in-law,” Craig answered. He stood and held his hand out. “May I take it?”

  She nodded and handed the phone back to Craig. He answered it as he walked to the large windows looking out at the busy city.

  “Hey, Jared. What’s up?”

  “Have you checked your email yet?” demanded the teen.

  Craig winced at the anger in the boy’s voice. Not much of a boy any more, he corrected himself. “Not yet, I’m busy this morning.” His eyes flicked back towards the waiting police officers. “Why aren’t you on the range today? That’s what Rick’s schedule…”

  “Schedules change as circumstances dictate, Craig. You know that better than anyone else, I would think.”

  Craig winced at the stinging accusation in his young brother-in-law’s voice. “I’ll check my email as soon as I can.”

  Jared didn’t even say goodbye. Craig sighed as his phone beeped to let him know the call had ended. His brother-in-law hadn’t even given him a chance to ask if Angela was nearby. He walked back to the circle of people in the room with him. “Do you want the phone back?” he asked the detectives.

  “Not at this time,” Leila answered. She shifted lazily from one foot to another. “What was Kathryn’s mood when you left her last night?”

  “In a nutshell: pissed, angry, and disappointed.” Craig sat on the couch again, pulling his leg away from Veronica when she tried to pat his knee. Damn it, this time it was his fault for not choosing a different seat.

  Leila caught the motion, evident in the way her eyebrow quirked at him, but she didn’t comment. “Did Kathryn strike you as suicidal?”

  “Katie? No…” Fear shot through him. “You’re not saying she’s dead?”

  “I’m afraid so, Mr. Moore. Eyewitness reports indicate she jumped from the roof of the hotel about a quarter after two this morning.” Leila produced an electronic tablet from a pocket in her dark blazer, opened a crime scene photo and showed it to him.

  Involuntarily, Craig’s hand came up to cover his mouth. Shock filled him at the sight of the broken and twisted body, blood fanning out behind Katie like wings of a fallen angel. She looked surprised. His shock was quickly followed by grief and remorse. He was aware of the detectives watching him, but he couldn’t stop the emotions playing on his face as the female detective continued to speak.

  “No overt sign of struggle,” Leila was saying, “although there was evidence of recent sexual activity.”

  Katie was dead.

  Remorse filled Craig. The girl who had shared her desserts with him, who had posed in the parks for him when he was first learning how to sketch, who had spent countless long hours on the phone with him gossiping about their friends or working on their homework, was dead. He looked over at his father, trying to process the loss and saw the suspicious look on his father’s face. And at last, the direction of their questioning hit him, and he looked back at the detectives. His hands trembled as he clasped them in his lap and he took a deep breath.

  “I didn’t sleep with her,” Craig repeated. “You don’t think she jumped, do you? You think I had something to do with it.”

  “Did,” Leila corrected him, her eyes sharp. “You’re not completely ruled out yet as it’s easy enough for a man of your means to hire someone to do your dirty work. But complete phone records will take care of that one way or the other.”

  “Do you have any physical evidence linking him?” asked Les, the lawyer in him coming out.

  “Nothing definitive. We’ll need to get Craig fingerprinted, preferably today. Now if possible. And we’ll need a DNA sample. Are those the clothes you were wearing last night?” inquired Leila, finally putting the tablet away.

  “They are. Do you want them?” Craig wiped at his face, not aware he’d shed tears.

  “You’re offering them?” Leila’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “I am. You can have them now.” Craig stood without hesitation, thinking his father must approve of this action as he made no objection. Slipping his shoes off, he put them into the clear plastic evidence bag Leila had produced from her field kit. The suit jacket went into a clear plastic bag, after he’d taken his iPhone back out of the pocket, and he hesitated when he remembered his audience. He looked at the silent male detective. “Yo
u want to come with me to the bedroom, make sure I don’t swap them?”

  “What’s the matter?” Leila asked, tongue-in-cheek. “You don’t want to strip in front of me and your mother?”

  “Stepmother,” corrected Craig automatically, already beginning to move towards his bedroom. “And no, I don’t.”

  38

  L eon Stafford followed the other man, his own field kit in hand, exchanging an amused glance with his partner. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he asked his first question of the interview. “Don’t like her much, do you?”

  “Who?” Tossing his wallet and smartphone on the desk, Craig Moore began stripping, placing the other pieces of the suit into the seperate evidence bags Stafford held out for him.

  “Your stepmother.”

  “I’ve tried getting over the past, for my father’s sake. But no, I can’t find it in me to like her,” Moore answered. “How much do you want?”

  “All of it I’m afraid. Socks too,” Stafford answered, with a modicum of humor. He observed the lean man’s body as he finished stripping and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. Unmarred and conservatively muscle, Moore certainly had the physical strength to toss the petite woman from the rooftop.

  “You don’t strike me as the type to get someone to do your dirty work,” Stafford told the rich man as he organized the evidence bags at his feet. Not all of it would fit in the silver case he carried. He and Rodriguez would have their hands full on the way back to the car.

  “Thanks, I think.” The other man glanced at his laptop on the desk and gave a frustrated sigh as he finished straightening his new clothing. The jeans and t-shirt he’d changed into seemed to clash with his surroundings. The Moore’s weren’t quite old money, but from the research both he and his partner had done as part of their investigation, they weren’t exactly new to the lifestyle either. Not exactly poor to start with, Les had married into a larger estate but had managed to build his personal fortune without his in-laws’ help. He had placed the wealth he gained from his first wife’s death into trust funds for their sons. This son had also inherited a huge chunk from his maternal grandmother.

  Stafford produced another packet and handed the younger Moore a long cotton swab. “Here, run this around the inside of your mouth; DNA swab.”

  The man did as he was instructed, his face devoid of emotion. He pulled the plastic cover up the swab and flipped the plastic lid shut before placing the swab into the plastic bag the detective held out. Stafford sealed the bag and put it away in the silver case.

  Next, the detective pulled out another electronic device. “This is the easiest way to do fingerprints.”

  Again, the younger man complied without hesitation or argument. The detective was mildly surprised the man’s father had let the two of them leave his sight. Knowing Les as he did from previous encounters, he had almost expected the older man to demand a warrant before allowing them to take DNA and fingerprints of his son.

  “Don’t you already have my prints?” Moore asked as the detective put the device away.

  He’d been wondering if the younger man was going to bring that up. “Your juvenile record is sealed.”

  Moore’s head nodded once. “Is there anything else you want to ask me while we’re alone?”

  That was an intriguing invitation. “Between us, man to man…you didn’t sleep with her? I mean, come on, a blonde bombshell like that?”

  “Yeah, you’d think so.” Moore shrugged uncomfortably as he picked his smartphone up from the desk and checked it for messages. Whatever he saw on the screen caused him to sigh and he slid it into his back pocket. “No, I didn’t. I managed to remember my vows before I broke them all.”

  He believed the other but wouldn’t tell him so. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  A tired eyebrow quirked at him. “I guess the DNA will reveal whether I did or not.”

  “We’ll see.” Tidying his bags of evidence, Stafford decided to drop a piece of information. “Just to let you know, about our other case regarding the shooting your father was injured in…we think he was the actual target. Some of his pro bono work has pissed off a few people. Nothing concrete yet, but we’re still digging.”

  There was a pained sigh as the other man processed this. “Am I a suspect for that too?”

  “At first, yes. We ruled out financial motivation pretty early on. There was some speculation you were romantically involved with your stepmother, but a conversation with your brother ruled that out as well. Especially…”

  “You talked to my brother?” cut in Moore.

  “We did. He had quite the story to tell.” But he wasn’t going to share any more, he wanted to see if the other would take the bait.

  “Are you the ones who told him I was hanging out with Katie?”

  “No.” Feeling he’d struck out, Stafford gathered his field kit and the larger bags. They should have brought a uniform along to help carry stuff, but they hadn’t expected cooperation. “Her name wasn’t even mentioned when we spoke with Tim. Would you get the door?”

  Nodding, the other man gathered his wallet and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans. He didn’t open the door right away. “Did Tim tell you everything that happened when we were teens?”

  “Not everything, but enough,” admitted the detective. And at the look of shame on Moore’s face, he relented. “The ADA will call you regardless of how this investigation turns out. She takes a dim view of adults molesting minors.”

  Moore cursed, but nodded. He opened the door and motioned for the detective to proceed him.

  W hile he and the detective returned to the living room, where Les and Leila were talking quietly, Craig pulled his phone out and tried calling Angela again. If Jared was up and about and angry, maybe she was up too. But his wife still wasn’t answering her cellphone. He sighed and sent her a quick text, hoping she’d at least look at it.

  “Angela not answering yet?” Veronica asked, her voice conveying concern.

  “No, she’s not.” Craig shook his head. “I was hoping…” Returning his attention to the police he asked, “What else do you need from me?”

  “Contact information for your friend Mike,” commented Leila.

  Craig opened Mike’s information in the smartphone and held it to allow Stafford to write the information down. “It might interest you to know that Mikey is Katie’s half-brother.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Leila commented noncommittally. “We’d also appreciate it if you didn’t leave the City.”

  Sighing, knowing it was futile to mention, he did anyway. “I was hoping to return home today. I’ve been gone long enough.”

  The look of sympathy on the detectives’ faces seemed genuine.

  “It wouldn’t be a good idea, and I wouldn’t advise it,” Leila said. “I think your father would agree.” She pulled a card out of her shirt pocket, handed it to Craig. “If you can think of anything else, here’s my contact info. Cell, email, work extension – though I doubt I’ll be there much today.”

  Craig took the card and nodded. “How long?” he asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “How long do you think you’ll need me to stay?”

  Leila shrugged indifferently. “Depends on how long until we can completely clear you. If you’re that desperate to reunite with your wife, it might be a good idea to bring her here.”

  Great. Craig nodded. “Are we done then?”

  “For now.”

  “I’ll show you out,” Les offered. He directed his wheelchair toward the main door.

  Craig watched the three go, the idle thought in the back of his mind that Angela would have liked the woman. Angela would probably have liked both detectives.

  Veronica rose to her feet gracefully, placed her hand on his bicep. It was a light touch, almost not there, and it was irritating how similar it was to how Angela touched him when she was concerned but didn’t want to press.

  Craig pulled away. “Would you please stop touching me
?” He kept his voice low, not wanting it to carry to his father.

  Veronica lowered her hand. “I’m so sorry, Craig; I know you and Katie were close.”

  “Please, just leave me alone right now.” Walking away, Craig went into the kitchen intent on finding something to eat, anything to put distance between him and his stepmother. She had done nothing overt during his stay here, beyond trying to mend fences. Repeatedly. He just couldn’t do that, though he pretended for his father’s sake. Not when her light touches, always in the realm of appropriate motherly affection, sent chills up his back.

  And Angela still wasn’t answering her phone.

  He may have placed the plate of leftover takeout in the microwave more roughly than was necessary.

  His father joined him after a few minutes, his face grave. “Will Mike back your story up? Katie was his sister after all.”

  Craig nodded as he placed the steaming plate of food on the counter before him. “I think so. He outright said if I’d slept with her, it wouldn’t change anything in our friendship. She was still alive when I left, and no matter how pissed she was, Katie wasn’t suicidal.”

  The older man’s head nodded as well, and his voice was low when he said, “They don’t think you had anything to do with it. They’re just following procedure and eliminating you.”

  “They told you that?” asked Craig, pushing the leftover Chinese around the plate with chopsticks. The broccoli looked mushy; he hated mushy broccoli.

  “No, I could see it in their faces. They have evidence they’re not telling us about, they don’t have to. Not yet.” Les sighed. “Is Angela answering yet?”

  Craig shook his head, lifting a sad looking piece of broccoli to his mouth. He made a face, but he chewed and swallowed.

  His father sighed again. “You want me to try? Maybe she’ll answer for a different number.”

  “You can try,” he said with a shrug. “Jared must have emailed me something, that’s what he called about. I’m kicking myself for not asking him if Angela was nearby. I’m kicking myself for a lot right now.”