by Farrell, Lia
Half an hour later, a small white SUV drove up the driveway. The car belonged to Jerry Freeman, a big man who was crazy about his little dog, a West Highland white terrier named Monica. He gave Mae extremely thorough instructions about his dog’s care and left a typed contact sheet. In the event of any emergency, Mae would know exactly what to do.
Monica was only six months old, a soft coated white terrier with black eyes. The pup had diva written all over her. Looking at Jerry, Mae saw all the signs of a man already enslaved by a four-pound puppy.
He kept talking about the instructions until Mae finally interrupted him, taking little Monica firmly in her hands. “I’ve got it, Jerry.”
“It’s the very first time I’ve ever left her anywhere.”
“It’s kind of like leaving your child at preschool. Once you’re gone, she’ll be fine.”
“You’ll call me if there are any problems?”
“I will.” She mentally rolled her eyes. Jerry got himself together and walked toward his car.
Mae carried Monica back to her dog run. She held her against her chest to give her a sense of security. When she looked down at the puppy, she could see that Monica’s eyes were fixed on Jerry as he walked away. She was clearly planning a takeover. Jerry didn’t stand a chance. The miniature despot looked up at her speculatively.
“Oh no you don’t, drama queen. Your little act doesn’t work on me.” She put a toy down in the straw but the puppy regarded it disdainfully and retreated into the corner.
The phone rang and Mae dashed into the house to get it.
“I understand there’s a Little Chapel Road neighborhood meeting tonight. Are you going?” Ben asked.
“Yes, do you want to go with me? Would it be helpful for the investigation?”
“I could go as your bodyguard, I suppose. Or undercover as your date …” He chuckled.
Mae was happier than she’d been in a long time. “Call yourself anything you want, Ben Bradley. Pick me up before seven. Bye.”
“Bye, bossy, I’ll see you later.”
Chapter Twenty-One
March 25
Sheriff Ben Bradley
Ben got to the office and immediately called Hadley Johns in the lab. “What did you find out about the shovel?”
“We got a hit. I’ll read you my report. ‘Ms. December noticed a substance she believed to be blood on the blade of the shovel. She did not touch it. She notified the deputy on patrol at her house and he contacted us. I photographed the shovel in place and brought it back to the lab. There were no fingerprints on the handle, suggesting someone wiped it down. Here’s the best news, Sheriff. The blood from the head of the shovel matches our victim. We got lucky. Ruby had AB negative blood. It’s only in one percent of the population. I’m confident it’s the murder weapon.”
“Good work. Thanks for sending those images right away. Clearly, the shovel is our murder weapon. A shame someone wiped down the handle. How is it coming with the cheek swabs?”
“We’ve checked Mr. Allison and Mr. Dennis. David Allison is not the father and neither is Joe Dennis. Chief Nichols and I went to Mr. Connolly’s office to obtain a cheek swab but he refused to let us take one.”
“What did he give as a reason?”
“He said we’d have to have a court order before he gave a sample. He was furious that Detective Nichols and I came to his place of business dressed in our uniforms. He said his clients would be aware of our visit and that we could cost him business.”
“Were any clients waiting to see him?”
“No, sir. Not a one.”
“What about the materials from Ruby’s house you were working on. Are they ready yet?
“We found a discarded pill bottle in the wastebasket. The name of the drug was Cialis; that’s a drug for treating, you know, what they call erectile dysfunction.” He started to laugh. “Hey, I think I’d need something to get it up for Ruby too.”
“That’s enough, Hadley. She’s a murder victim, not a joke.”
Dory walked into Ben’s office immediately after he hung up with Hadley.
“Boy, that Nichols is hot.” She grinned and fanned herself with her hand.
“Dory!”
“Well, he is. I bet he gets lots of action.”
As usual, Dory didn’t seem too concerned about his opinion, or observing proprieties.
“What has Nichols done to deserve this conclusion? Is that how ladies talk these days?”
“At least ladies who still like gentlemen talk about who’s hot and who’s not. He’s been slightly more mysterious than usual lately. It drives me crazy that I can’t get anything out of the man. We ladies like a challenge and Wayne is definitely a challenge. Plus having a nice ass for a white boy.”
“Is Wayne really that attractive to women?” Ben tapped his cheek with his finger, feeling baffled.
“Are you kidding me? He’s got to have every woman he questions trying to get him into bed.”
She turned his world upside down with this. “Into bed with Wayne? The one who’s pushing sixty, losing his hair and has a beer gut?”
“I bet you wish you were getting all the action he gets.”
This was just too much.
“Dory, for heaven’s sake! You must be ten years older than he is.”
She looked at him with a grin and shook her head. “You think the urge to merge dies out? Never does.”
“I really don’t want to know this.”
“You know, Sheriff,” Dory gave him the onceover, “we need to work on your attractiveness to the opposite sex.”
“So I’m not as sexy as Wayne?”
She appraised him with care. “He’s not a pretty boy like you. That man sure enough melts my butter, though.”
He had to get some control here. He stood up, motioning her toward the door.
“I’m going, I’m going,” she said. “Tomorrow, I’m going to start working on your style, Sheriff. You need my able assistance.”
He closed the door behind her. He needed someone’s help—that was for sure.
Ben could no longer avoid his overflowing Inbox and decided to spend a couple of hours reducing its height. There were a number of reports submitted by Wayne Nichols. Ben read three of them, struck as always by his Chief Detective’s keen insights into human behavior.
Reaching for correspondence from the pile, he paused. The first letter was from an old classmate from his brief stint in law school. Kevin Sabin was now an attorney in criminal practice. He’d started a firm in Nashville and wanted Ben to have his contact information. Ben glanced at his computer screen, noted the one hundred fifty-seven emails and clicked on his “Favorites.” The top one was the site of a law school in Texas. There were several other law schools listed as well, one in Michigan and two in Ohio. He clicked idly through the admission requirements pages, noting that his old LSAT scores were still competitive. He printed off several pages.
Another look at the pile of papers on his desk said he needed to get back to work. Maybe he could go to law school at night. He knew that wasn’t realistic. Most crimes occurred at night. He crumpled the pages, tossing them into his wastebasket. Maybe his dad would have a suggestion.
Chapter Twenty-Two
March 25
Detective Wayne Nichols
At ten in the morning Detective Nichols and Deputy Robert Fuller arrived at the architectural firm of David Allison and Steven Fanning and asked the receptionist if either Mr. Allison or Mr. Fanning were available. She went to check and returned to say that Mr. Fanning would be out shortly. She seated them in a reception area with red chairs, black tables and a tall black vase filled with bare branches. The modern building had enormous glass panel windows and a view of the downtown Nashville skyline. This was expensive real estate.
Steven Fanning came briskly into the room with his hand outstretched. He was a slim, relatively short man with a buzz cut and an intense look. After shaking their hands, he showed them into a conference room with a
n enormous rosewood table and red chairs. There was a sideboard with coffee, tea, hot water and china cups. Steven poured three cups of coffee and invited them to be seated.
Detective Nichols said, “Mr. Fanning, we’re here regarding the death of Ruby Mead-Allison, your partner’s wife. We’d like to talk to you about the evening of March fifteenth.”
“Certainly. I’m happy to help out. I don’t see what I could tell you that would be pertinent. I need to check my calendar. I’ll get my secretary.” He pushed a button on the clear glass panel on his side of the conference table, and a tall, brown-haired woman came into the room.
“Linda, could you tell these men about my schedule for March fifteenth?”
She opened the planner in her hand. “March fifteenth was the day you were meeting with the representatives from Dymond Development Corporation all afternoon. You took Mr. John Rogers and Miss Stephanie Wilson to dinner at Café Margot.”
“Thank you.” Steven Fanning rose and ushered her out.
“What did you do after dinner?”
“We left the restaurant about nine o’clock and I escorted Miss Wilson to the Hyatt. John Rogers lives in Nashville but Stephanie is the corporate representative from Memphis. When we got to the hotel, she asked me to join her at the bar for a nightcap and I did. I left the bar around ten thirty and went straight home. I was at home the rest of the evening with my wife, Robin.”
“When you drove home, did you come from the north or the south end of Little Chapel Road?”
“I always drive in from the south end.”
“So, you must have driven past Ruby Mead-Allison’s house on your way home?”
“Yes.” Steven’s glib demeanor was rapidly being replaced with caution.
“It would have taken you half an hour to drive home from the Hyatt, meaning you drove past Mrs. Mead-Allison’s home around eleven?”
“Yes, that’s about right.”
“When you drove past her home, did you notice your partner’s car in her driveway?”
“It was dark but I think I saw David’s car. They have separated but I know they saw each other from time to time. My wife hoped they were getting back together.”
“You weren’t surprised to see your partner’s car there?”
“No. Although David was originally planning to have dinner with us, Ruby called at the last minute and David decided to have dinner with her. I was pretty pissed, actually. He’s the chief architect for the buildings Dymond Development is planning to construct. David said Ruby wanted to talk about their divorce. He was trying to work out something that they could both agree to, in terms of a property settlement.”
“I’d like to point out a contradiction in your story, if I might,” Wayne Nichols said quietly.
Steven swallowed audibly and then nodded.
“First, you told me your wife thought David and Ruby were getting back together, but Mr. Allison told you he couldn’t go to dinner because he wanted to work out a property settlement with Ruby.”
“Yes, well, you know how women are.”
“Actually I don’t. Suppose you tell me.”
“Well, David and Ruby were our neighbors. Since their separation, David has been staying at our house. We have three small children and David is taking up one of the bedrooms. Obviously, Robin hoped for their reconciliation or a divorce. She wanted David out of the house. She was starting to press him about how long he’d be staying. My daughter doesn’t like bunking with the boys.”
“David told you he needed to skip an important business meeting to work out a property settlement? That shouldn’t have required a late night visit to Ruby’s house. So, what did you think when you saw his car in Ruby’s driveway?”
“I was already irritated with him and when I saw his car, I was furious.” Steven’s fair skin flushed an angry red.
“You drove up your street and saw David’s car in Ruby’s driveway. What happened then? Mr. Fanning, I want to caution you—this is a murder inquiry and the night you saw Allison’s car in the driveway was the night she died.”
Steven was taken aback and seemed to choose his words carefully. “What did I do? What could I do? I drove past, cussing like a sailor.”
“You didn’t drive into the driveway? Why don’t you take a moment to gather your thoughts, Mr. Fanning, and tell me what really happened?”
There was a pause. “You’re right. I did drive in. I sat there in the driveway in my car thinking about what I should do. I was going to go in and talk to him, to both of them. However, I’d told Robin I’d be home by ten, and I knew she’d be none too pleased with me anyway. In the end, I drove home. Robin can tell you I was with her all night.”
“Earlier you said you thought it was David’s car in the driveway. Couldn’t you immediately recognize David’s car?”
“I’m sorry, Detective. Yes, I knew it was David’s car.”
“I’m going to ask you again what you did when you drove into the driveway. Did you go up to the house?” The detective paused and watched Steven Fanning closely. “Remember, I’m going to be talking to your wife about the time you arrived home and I’m very good at knowing when people are lying to me.”
Steven took a deep breath. His voice was steady. “I watched the house until David came out and got into his car at almost eleven thirty. By then, I’d moved my car out of the driveway and parked it on the street in front of Ruby’s place. When David drove down the driveway and headed toward my house, I followed him. I pulled into my driveway right behind him. When he got out of the car, we had an argument. David was very upset about his encounter with Ruby. Then Robin came outside and said we needed to come into the house. She told us to quiet down. We both came in. She got us drinks and left us in the living room. I didn’t leave the house again all night.”
“Was Mr. Allison in the house the remainder of the night?”
“I think so, but I can’t say for sure. My wife and I have a bedroom fan, and unless one of the kids opens the bedroom door, we don’t hear much. I guess he could have left, but I don’t think he did. He was more depressed than angry. He changed clothes, I know. Got into jeans and a t-shirt. When I went up to bed, he was sitting in the living room, downing shots of Johnnie Walker Black. When we woke up the next morning, our daughter, Tiffany, told us that when she got up Mr. Allison was still asleep on the couch.”
“When you went to bed, leaving Mr. Allison drinking in the living room, did you notice the time?”
“Yes, it was right around one.”
“When you got up the next morning, did you notice whether he was wearing the same clothes he had changed into the previous night or not?”
“I didn’t actually see him. By the time I came into the kitchen, David was in the shower. You’ll have to ask my wife.”
“Okay. That’s enough for now. We’ll be speaking with Mr. Allison, and we may be back to ask you some more questions. I want to remind you to hold everything you told us in confidence. Do not discuss this matter with anyone, not your wife, your partner, nobody. Do you understand?” His tone was gentle, but very firm.
“Yes.” Steven looked Wayne Nichols in the eye. “I understand clearly. You have my word, Detective. I won’t talk to anyone else about this.”
As the officers walked down the hall toward Allison’s Office, Deputy Fuller turned to Wayne Nichols. “Man, I don’t know how you do it. Mr. Fanning was hostile and defensive. He didn’t want to tell you anything. Then by the end of the conversation, you got him to open up and give you a lot of information. How do you do it?”
“We can talk about this when we get back into the car.” Wayne knocked on Mr. Allison’s office door.
David Allison needed no introduction to Detective Nichols or Deputy Fuller. He said hello without shaking hands and waved them into his office.
The two officers sat in dark gray chairs facing David’s teakwood desk. The office was decorated in gray striped wallpaper with an entire wall of windows. A framed photograph of Ruby sat o
n the console behind Allison. Her red hair was the only spot of color in the room. The pale gray carpeting made the office feel as it were floating off into the cityscape beyond.
Detective Nichols looked at David across the desk. “We’ve already talked to you about Ruby’s death. I want to ask you again to describe your movements on the night she died.”
“I already told you and I see no reason to do so again.” His tone of voice was cool. David was plainly irritated by their visit.
“Mr. Allison, the first time we talked you didn’t tell us the truth about your whereabouts.” Wayne Nichol’s voice was soft but pitched perfectly to raise David’s fears. “We know you took Ruby to dinner at the Bistro at six forty-five. You left the restaurant around nine. We also know you drove to her house, arriving around nine thirty. You stayed at her house until at least eleven thirty. Ruby died that night.”
David took a deep breath. He gripped the arms of his chair. Nichols noticed sweat on his temples.
“Do you deny that this accurately summarizes your actions on the night of March fifteenth?” Wayne kept his voice soft and almost kindly.
“No, you’re right.” David again took in a breath and exhaled. He seemed to relax a bit.
“You originally told us that you attended a dinner meeting. However, we now have positive identification from the wait staff at the Bistro, identifying you as Ruby’s escort. We have your credit card slip showing that you paid for dinner. We also spoke with your partner, Steven Fanning. He said he drove by Ruby’s house around eleven and saw your vehicle there. Do you have anything you’d like to add?”
“Only one thing. Ruby was alive and well when I left her house that night.”
“Why didn’t you tell us all of this earlier?”
“I knew I’d be a suspect, especially if I admitted that I was with her until almost midnight. I was scared.” He scrutinized his desk.
“I understand, but now you have a bigger problem. Because you didn’t tell us what really happened that night, we’re more interested in you than ever.” There was a pause, and then he leaned forward. “Mr. Allison, look at me. Tell me what really happened between you and Ruby the night of March fifteenth. This is going to be worse for you if you don’t tell me everything.”
