Point of Betrayal

by Ann Roberts

  “May I help you?” a voice called.

  He looked over his shoulder and saw a lanky security guard strolling down the path.

  He pulled out his badge and showed it to the young man, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. “Sergeant Jack Adams. I’m investigating the Margarita Escolido murder. Do you know about that?”

  The guard’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. Terrible tragedy. I was on duty that night.”

  He raised an eyebrow and opened the case file. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Dean Horn, sir.”

  “Did you speak to the police, Dean?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  He found a copy of Horn’s statement. “Tell me what you remember.”

  He cleared his throat before he said, “Well, I’m assigned to Area Three, which includes the restaurant and the lot where Margarita was…well, killed.” His voice trailed off and he stared at the ground guiltily.

  “Go on, son. What happened?”

  “Well, at approximately one thirty I was patrolling near the restaurant since my orders are to be nearby when the employees get off work. You know, to help them feel safe as they go to their vehicles.”

  The last words trailed off into a whisper, and he guessed Horn felt responsible for Margarita’s death.

  “Um, I really didn’t see anything specific. Most of the employees were already gone. I saw a few people leave, but I didn’t know Margarita so I’m not sure if she was one of them. I heard she left with a waiter. I might’ve seen that.”

  “So how long did you stay near the restaurant?”

  He looked puzzled. “Pardon, sir?”

  “I assume your job is to patrol an entire area and make rounds so I’m wondering when you moved out of the restaurant’s vicinity.”

  “Ah, gotcha.” He bit his lip in thought. “Probably five minutes. I probably moved on around one thirty-five. Sometimes I come over this way, you know, to check on the big lot.”

  Jack looked down at the rows of cars in the subterranean lot, which included a guard shack at the front.

  “Is there someone on duty?” he asked, throwing a nod toward the small building.

  “Uh, yeah, that’s Lisa inside. Great lady.”

  Even in the darkness he noticed Horn’s blush. “Was she on duty that night?”

  His gaze shot up, and he looked worried, as if Jack might be accusing her of wrongdoing. “Yeah, but she didn’t have anything to do with what happened.”

  He held up a hand. “I know, son. I wasn’t suggesting she did, but I’d like to ask her a few questions anyway.”

  “Oh,” he said, relieved.

  They crossed to the shack, and a voluptuous woman, her black hair tied up in a bun, emerged from inside. Definitely one of the few people who look good in tan polyester, thought Jack. He glanced at Horn, whose tongue was practically wagging.

  “Hello,” she said.

  He again flashed his badge. “Sergeant Jack Adams with Phoenix PD. I’ve been assigned to the Margarita Escolido murder, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Sure,” she said, her brown eyes curious. “Lisa Moore. But I don’t really know anything.”

  Horn hovered over them like a protective lover. Jack turned his stare on the kid and said, “Why don’t you go patrol for a few minutes so I can speak with Lisa alone?”

  His face fell at the dismissal. “Oh, okay.”

  He hurried away and Lisa shook her head. “He’s a nice guy, but he tries too hard.”

  “He seems very concerned about you.”

  She shrugged. “Like I said he’s a nice guy, but I’ve been telling him for months that I’m not interested.”

  “Is he harassing you?”

  “No, no,” she said quickly, “nothing like that. He’s like a puppy dog, totally harmless, but definitely persistent,” she laughed.

  “So why would anyone park in the other employee lot? This one seems much more secure.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “But there are times during the day when there are too many employees on the premises at once. The other one is for overflow. Some people just go there anyway, because it’s easier to find a space. And for people who are traditionally late for work, it’s faster.”

  “Did you know Margarita Escolido?”

  Her face grew somber. “Not really. Just a hi or hello. She was one of the people who usually parked in the other lot because it was closer to the restaurant.”

  She pointed up to the patio, and he realized the guard shack had a clear view of the patio area and the surrounding grounds leading to the path that led to the small lot where Margarita was killed.

  “So did you see anything that night?”

  She shook her head. “No. I remember the initial wave of people leaving about one fifteen and then it was like it is now. We’re in a lull until about five a.m. We make our rounds and hang out. I’m sure that night we were doing the same thing.”

  “We?”

  “Me and Dean.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Dean was down here with you? Wasn’t he out of his area?”

  She looked embarrassed. “He comes down here a few times each night just to say hi, no big deal. He can see most everything from here.”

  He scribbled on his notepad. “Was he down here that night around one thirty?”

  She stumbled for an answer. “Probably. It’s his usual routine. He waits until the crowd of employees makes it to their cars and then he hangs out for half an hour or so. He’s not in any trouble, is he?”

  He sighed. “He told me he was up at the restaurant at one thirty that night.” He flipped to Horn’s witness statement and tapped the page. “He gave an official statement swearing he was up near the restaurant at the time Margarita left. Is that the truth, Lisa?”

  She obviously heard the sternness of his tone, and her gaze flicked from the statement to the forlorn young man wandering between the cars in the lot.

  “You weren’t asked these questions before so you haven’t violated the law, but I’m asking you now—officially. Was he with you that night at one thirty?”

  She nodded. “He’s always down here by one thirty.”

  He couldn’t hide his frustration. “Were you ever questioned by the police?”

  She shook her head. “I only heard that people were being questioned. The day after Margarita was killed was my first day of vacation. I was out of town for two weeks. When I got back, the whole thing seemed to have blown over.”

  He took a deep breath and held his temper. “May I?” he asked, motioning to the small desk inside the shack.

  “Of course,” she said.

  A rush of adrenaline surged through him as he readjusted the small desk lamp and located Ian Patton’s statement. Patton had said a security guard was standing near the restaurant as he and Margarita walked down the main path, which was one of the reasons he hadn’t thought it necessary to walk her all the way to her car. He’d assumed she’d be safe.

  He gazed toward the restaurant, now completely dark. If it wasn’t Dean Horn who Ian Patton had seen, who was it?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Molly nervously tapped her coffee stirrer on the marble tabletop while she waited for Andre on the patio at Copper State Coffee. She’d spent the entire night drawing circles and hypothesizing about connections between Biz Stone, Wanda “aka Lola” Sells, Sol Gardener and Vince Carnotti. As she reviewed the doodles on the two sheets of paper that remained—after discarding dozens of others—she saw the connection. It was plausible, and if she could convince Andre then she might go to Jack.

  The commuters on Seventh Avenue raced past her, headed for their mundane jobs, unable to enjoy the magic of the crisp fall morning. She took a deep breath, working to temper her excitement. She hadn’t felt this happy in ages. It was like being on a case again, and if her theory resulted in the arrest of Biz Stone, her year would be made. She would find vengeance against the person who set her up, and Ari wo
uld be completely humiliated and embarrassed. Falling in love with a criminal? She laughed out loud, but it faded away against the roar of the passing engines when she thought about the potential charges against Biz, including murder.

  What if Ari was in danger? What if she learned the truth? Would Biz kill the woman she loved to save herself?

  Molly glanced at the stirrer in her shaking hand. She dropped it on the table and pulled a worn and folded sheet of paper from her bag. It was one of the emails Ari had sent to her after their breakup. She’d apologized endlessly for five paragraphs, professing her love for Molly and trying to explain what had happened.

  Molly had shown it to Dr. Yee, and much to her chagrin, Dr. Yee’s first question had been, “Do you notice that she never once mentions your drinking or bouts of anger? Do you see how she takes complete responsibility for her behavior?”

  She’d roared in reply, “Well, isn’t she a fucking saint!” and Dr. Yee had stared at her.

  She didn’t realize she was crying until a teardrop trickled to the tip of her nose. She quickly wiped it away and shoved the email back in her bag when she heard the clip of dress shoes approaching.

  “Hey, Mol,” Andre said, dropping into the chair across from her. “What’s so urgent?”

  She stared at him. “You may think I’m crazy,” she said calmly, “and you’ll probably accuse me of retaliation, but I think the second woman working with Wanda is Biz.”

  He leaned forward. “What?”

  “Hear me out,” she said quickly. “It all makes sense.” She pointed to the four circles that surrounded the interior circle she’d labeled “Wanda.” “We know that her handler knows about disguises, is probably a regular at Hideaway and is a member of her gym, since she lived to work and work out.” She tapped the fourth circle. “And we know whoever set me up had a reason, which means that woman had a connection to Vince Carnotti.”

  He shook his head. “That’s where you lose me, Mol. We don’t have any proof that Biz works with the mob.”

  She held up a finger and showed him the other set of circles with Biz at the center. “We can’t prove it directly, but think about it. First, how does a PI who does a ton of pro bono work afford two cars, a motorcycle and a seven-figure condo that she remodeled before she moved in? Do you know how expensive a condo is at Trombetta Dwellings?”

  “Maybe she has other income or a grateful client,” he suggested.

  “Doubtful. Have you seen the women who hire her? And what if I told you that one of my connections knows for a fact that Carnotti’s former son-in-law was hauled in on three domestic violence charges? And then he was magically arrested for drug possession, although drugs were never on his record previously. Now he’s out of the picture doing time in Florence for the next ten years. And did I mention that one of the witnesses who offered testimony on behalf of the daughter was none other than Biz Stone?”

  Andre was silent, processing. “How do you know all this?” he finally asked.

  “I still have a few friends who’ll talk to me,” she said coldly.

  “Hey! I’m one of those friends!”

  “I know, I know,” she said softly.

  She’d thought about it all night, but he was hearing it for the first time, questioning the plausibility without the added bias of hating Biz Stone.

  He picked up the two sheets of paper and said, “I suppose it would’ve been easy for her to keep tabs on you since she was Ari’s client during that whole mess. She bought her condo around the time the two of you broke up.” He glanced at her and added, “Maybe she was using Ari to get to you.”

  “Ari was a willing victim,” she replied acidly.

  “She could be in danger if this is true. We should tell Jack.”

  She took the papers from him. “Not just yet. I want to do a little digging of my own first. I’d like to have something more than a few hunches to show him so I don’t just sound like a scorned girlfriend.”

  He took her hand. “You need to be fast, Mol. If you’re right, and Biz is involved with Carnotti, he won’t hesitate to eliminate anyone who’s in his way, and she might be desperate enough to hurt Ari too.”

  * * *

  Her first stop was Hideaway. She hesitated before she opened the familiar door. Was she craving a drink? No. That gave her the confidence to wander through the maze of tables and across the small dance floor to the bar where Vicky was restocking the shelves. It also helped that the harsh work lights destroyed the ambience she usually enjoyed with her scotch.

  When Vicky saw her approach, she nearly dropped the bottle of rum she held in her hand. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  She slid onto a stool in front of her. “Hey, Vic.”

  She shook the bottle at her. “Don’t you be askin’ me for a drink or I’ll knock you upside the head!”

  “No, I’m sober and I intend to stay that way. You have my permission to throw me out if I ever ask you for a scotch.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  They exchanged knowing smiles. After years of pouring her drinks and threatening to call her a cab dozens of times when she shouldn’t have driven—and actually doing it twice—their relationship was shifting.

  “I need your help, Vic, but I’ll understand if you refuse after I tell you why I’m here.”

  She shrugged. “What’s going on?”

  She pulled out a copy of Wanda’s gym picture. “This is the woman you saw coming on to me, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s her,” she said, peering at her face, realizing the discovery was old news. “Who is she?”

  “She’s somebody who’s friends with Biz,” Molly said, excluding the detail that Wanda was dead. “What I need to know is if you remember ever seeing them together here at Hideaway when she was dressed up as Lola.”

  She looked at her suspiciously. “What’s up, Molly? Bad blood between you two now that she’s after Ari?”

  “She’s already got Ari,” she said.

  “Not what I hear. Biz has it bad and Ari’s shutting her down. She’s not over you.”

  “Whatever,” she mumbled as a tingle went down her spine. “I need to know if Wanda, that’s this woman,” she said pointing to the picture, “ever met Biz here or if they hooked up in the back.”

  She pulled a case of beer onto the bar. “Why do you want to know?”

  “That’s the part you might not like, seeing as you’re a friend of Biz’s.”

  “Biz ain’t my friend,” she said, clanking the bottles together as she pushed them into a refrigerator. “She’s good for business and she always pays her tab, but I’ve seen the way she treats women. She was eyeballin’ Ari before you were ever out of the picture. Only one that didn’t seem to notice was Ari. Or you,” she said with a little grin.

  Molly scowled. “Do you remember anything?”

  She studied the picture and glanced toward the back room. “That’s hard to say. Biz is always here, kinda like Jane. You should ask Jane if she ever saw them together.”

  She nodded. It was a good idea.

  “For some reason I’ve got this memory of coming out of Karis’s office and seeing Biz in an argument with someone while she was on the pay phone. I thought it was odd that she was using it in the first place since she has a fancy smartphone.” Karis was the owner and Vicky’s ex.

  “She might not have wanted her name or number to pop up,” Molly guessed.

  “Maybe. I remember it because after I saw her arguing, I came behind the bar and saw that woman you showed me, Wanda, arguing with someone on her cell phone. I don’t know what she was talking about or who she was arguing with, but for some reason I connected the two conversations. Weird, huh?”

  Molly shrugged. “Not necessarily. Do you remember anything else?”

  “Not really. Just what I told Ari’s dad about the keychain and the gym membership. That helped, didn’t it?”

  She grinned. “Yeah.”

  Vicky looked at her seriously. “Any chance you and Ari wi
ll get back together? She loved you so much, Mol. I’ve never said anything, but what the hell? She put up with a lot of your shit, like the night you tumbled on top of her and twisted her ankle. You were so wasted and kept talking about going bowling. Ari knew you’d wind up in jail if she didn’t take you home. You were just in one of your moods.”

  The night in front of the bowling alley. She’d hurt Ari and Jane had shown up and driven them home. She gazed at the bar and swallowed the truth. How many other nights had been like that one?

  Vicky touched her shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry. That was out of line. I love you both and I just want what’s best for you.”

  She nodded and slid off the stool, unsure if she could find the exit through the tears that were blinding her.

  * * *

  It had been easy to slip into Wanda’s apartment complex. She simply waited by the gate in her pool attire until a handsome twenty-something guy strolled out. After giving her the once-over, he was more than happy to hold the gate open for her. The complex was quiet since it was the middle of the work week. She found an empty chaise lounge in the pool area and pulled out a mystery novel she’d been reading forever. Tucked in the pages was the only photo of Biz she could find, a group shot taken at Ari’s birthday party. Molly and Ari were at the center, wrapped in each other’s arms, while Biz stood at the periphery her gaze caught between the camera and the couple. Even then she wanted Ari, Molly thought.

  She hoped to find someone who had seen Biz at the apartments the night Wanda was killed. She gazed at her building in the distance, able to make out the crime scene tape that covered the front door. She doubted that anyone saw Biz actually enter the apartment. However, to get there she would’ve had to pass by the pool area and Biz cut a memorable figure, particularly to gay women.

  She watched the pool-goers, looking for a regular who was also a lesbian. Half an hour passed as multiple straight couples wandered in and out, engaging in various displays of affection. She pretended to read her book while she soaked up the rays, all the while staring at the birthday party picture.