by James Ross
“How quick was that?”
“Two minutes and forty-three seconds,” Bazz answered. “It’s the same motorcycle. “What do you suppose he did in that time?”
“Whack somebody,” Lester J said emphatically. “I’ll go there and time it, but I presume it took another 20 seconds or so to get into the lot. Then he pulled up to Richards, made sure it was the right guy, fired a shot, checked to confirm the guy was dead, and was out of there and back through the intersection. That’s the only way in and out, correct?”
Bazz nodded.
“Did you check the type of cycle?”
“It’s a late model Honda from Japan.”
“With a, what color is that stripe? Purple maybe?”
“Yeah, I’d say purple, violet. Something like that.”
“Run that tape back.”
Bazz hit the rewind button and started the playback.
“Temporary plates. It had to be purchased in the last thirty days.” Lester J slipped his reading glasses in place. “I can’t read what’s on the tag. Can you blow the damn thing up? Make it larger!”
“We’ve already tried. He’s got tape or something over it.”
“Find that vehicle! Check every dealership that carries that brand. We’ll nab this guy! When we do find him, get the duct tape or whatever he covered the plate with,” Lester J was content that this information would lead them to the murderer. “Get an APB out. Contact all the media outlets. Blow that picture up. Let’s find this guy.” He went to the coffee pot and poured a cup, black.
In the meantime Bazz had learned that the IT guys had wrapped up their work and he had no idea the cell phone would produce that bonanza that it did or how it would confusingly take the two detectives in a completely different direction.
“What about the other stuff?” Lester J asked.
“That’s another story and I can’t figure out what’s going on.”
“The cell phones?”
“Yeah. What I think is going on is so far out there that it can’t be, I don’t think.”
“What did the IT guys say?”
“The good news is that we can retrieve everything that has been on the cell phone.”
“Even the messages that have been deleted?”
“Yes. Everything. A cell phone is a mini-computer and there is a record of everything that has taken place on it.”
“So what has you buffaloed?”
“You’re not going to believe it. Raul deleted all of the texts that Tindra said he had received from Shari that put her life in danger.”
“Okay. That’s pretty stupid. He tried to destroy the evidence. It makes it tougher for her to build her case.”
“Yeah, but here’s the wrinkle.”
“What is?”
“We went back into all of his deleted messages and retrieved all of the texts he has received. They’re transcribed on paper now.”
“So she’ll be able to use that as proof.”
“But I’m afraid she won’t want to do that.”
“Why?”
“Those texts came from a phone registered to Tindra Svahnstrom.”
“What?” Lester J took a sip of coffee. “Did Shari take Tindra’s phone?”
“Or did Raul send them to himself? Or even worse, did Tindra send them?”
“Huh? None of that makes any sense.”
“I know. It’s nuts. So we got the IT guys to determine where they came from.”
“You just told me they came from Tindra’s phone.”
“No, I meant what tower they came from. Each cell tower sets off a ping that identifies itself. All the texts messages were sent from a cell tower that is near the house where Raul and Tindra live. Those IT guys are amazing. They triangulated every text message.”
“Where was he?”
“Mostly one of two places,” Bazz replied. “He was either near his home or he was near his massage therapy business when he received the texts.”
Lester J put his hand to his nose. “Okay, let’s think this through. What tower does Shari ping off of?”
“We’ve already thought of that. She bounces off a tower that is different from the one by Raul’s house and business.”
“How do you know that?”
“We’ve got her phone. She gave it to us to verify that she wasn’t sending the texts, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. She threw it on the table before she stormed out.”
“It was easy to see where she was when she used it. Her phone was not used at the same time that Raul’s phone said that he received a text message.”
“So what do you think is going on?”
“I’m not for sure,” Bazz answered, “but it gets better. About halfway through the deleted text messages that were on Raul’s phone the ID number dried up.”
“Huh?”
“Initially we could see that they were coming from Tindra’s phone but then he started receiving them from a phone number that we couldn’t trace.”
“A prepaid phone?” Lester J theorized.
“Exactly,” Bazz agreed. “Whoever was sending the messages off of Tindra’s phone changed phones halfway through the threats.”
“Who do you think it was?”
“Tindra said that Shari was sending the texts. Raul thought that he was receiving them from Shari.” Bazz flipped through his notes. “Shari has repeatedly said that she wasn’t sending anything and her phone verifies that even though she has spent a night in jail for doing so.”
“Do we have the wrong person?”
Bazz cocked his head to the side and looked skeptically at his partner. “It sure does look that way.”
“What do you think?” Lester J paused. “Was Raul sending them to himself from Tindra’s phone to put heat on Shari for some unknown reason? Or was Tindra sending them all along?”
“I don’t know. We need to have another talk with Tindra. She’s the one that has been coming down here and filing complaints every other day.”
“We need to pay her another visit.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Tyler Cy was miffed and he had every reason to be. Jayla, the daughter that he had been raising was not his. Shari had kept a huge secret for a dozen years. After returning from Truman Stewart’s office he went back to work exercising his knee in the lower level.
Shari was still living the good life that included lunch with girlfriends, golf, shopping, a boyfriend (and whoever else she wanted to get close to in bed), a Jaguar convertible, the luxuries of a million-dollar mansion with a desirable zip code, rubbing elbows with the politically connected, and a small fortune promised as soon as the divorce became final. What more could anyone want?
She descended to the lower level, not particularly to see Tyler Cy, but more to pry into what was going on beneath the main level of their home. She was bored.
With drink in hand and a cigarette lit, she asked, “Do you need some help?” Before waiting for an answer she followed the first query with a second. “Have you figured out how to do the exercises right.”
“Everything is fine, Woobie.”
“When are you going to quit calling me by that silly nickname? It was cute when we were back in college but it’s not necessary now.”
“Habit, I guess.” Tyler Cy had the cord tied around his ankle and was bringing his heel to his hamstring. The flexibility had improved remarkably. “You remember how you got it, don’t you?”
“Of course. What a mistake. I’d rather forget.” She couldn’t puff on the cigarette fast enough.
“I’d like to remind you how you got it.”
“I know how. Don’t bother.”
“Yeah, but it leads into a discussion that we’re going to have to have.”
“Maybe I’ll go back upstairs.” She made a move to the steps.
“You were pretty drunk that night; actually, we both were.” Tyler Cy was pressing to get to the heart of the matter. “I think at the time I liked you a lot more than you liked me. Back
then you were the hot stuff on campus and all the guys were after you. I was just an afterthought.”
“Come on, Tyler Cy. That was years ago.”
Tyler Cy was on a mission. “We were playing Truth or Dare and you asked the question.” He laughed as he reminisced.
“Yeah, I remember. I asked you if you will be honest with me for the rest of my life if I were to only go out with you.”
“And it came out as woobie honest with me. We laughed until we had tears in our eyes and then I told you that I would be.”
Shari lit up another cigarette. “Okay, so what’s the point?”
Tyler Cy waited before the reveal. “I don’t think that you’ve been totally honest with me.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve told you that I don’t love you anymore.”
“No, I get that. It’s about something else.”
“What?”
“It concerns Jayla.”
“I know that she was down here with you for a long time when we got together for our little Father’s Day dinner. What did she tell you?”
“It has nothing to do with that.” Tyler Cy stopped. He had gone too far. At first he was going to let Truman and Leslie break the news to his wife, but after thinking about it he decided to inform her himself.
“What then?” Shari’s interest piqued.
“We got a package in the mail the other day.”
“So? What was in it?”
“A check for one and a half million dollars.” He thought he would let her stew on that. “I’ve met with my lawyer and it is part of the divorce resolution now.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“See how honest I am with you.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Actually it wasn’t to you and me directly.”
“Then how can it be a part of the settlement?”
“It has to go into a trust for Jayla.”
“How did she get that kind of money?”
“It was the proceeds of a life insurance policy.”
“Huh? Who died?”
“The letter from the insurance company said that it was from her biological father. Richard W. Richards.”
That was the quietest the Donnelly home had been in a decade or more. Shari sipped her wine and puffed on her cigarette. She started to say something and then stopped. She looked Tyler Cy straight in the eye, shaped her lips in the form of an o and brought the cigarette back to her lips. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s unlike you.” Tyler Cy unwrapped the cord that was wound around his ankle. He stepped onto the treadmill, programmed the speed, and began walking when the belt activated. “What else have you lied to me about?”
Shari was like a cat stalking prey. She didn’t utter a sound.
“In talking with Truman, this news is certainly going to affect any child support agreement that we had been discussing.” The businessman was coming out. His words were biting. “We were thinking that the judge may not be too pleased to hear that news. We thought that the disclosure might affect custody.”
“I can explain.”
Tyler Cy held his hand in the air signaling for her to stop. “Of course, with this new information we can amend the grounds for divorce. I don’t think that the courts would think too highly about an unfaithful spouse.” His walking pace quickened. “Of course, I’m not a judge. We can wait and see what he has to say.”
Shari saw the house, Jag, child support, spousal maintenance, and huge settlement slipping away.
“When was it?” Tyler Cy asked.
“When was what?” Shari knew exactly what he was getting to but in all honesty she could not pinpoint the specific night in question. She and Richie had been going at it for quite a while.
“You know what I’m asking.”
Shari bowed her head. She was like a little kid caught skipping school, only this was a thousand times worse. “Do you remember that weekend we spent with Richie and Becca at our house at the Lake of the Ozarks?” Tyler Cy nodded. “We had been drinking all day. Becca was tired and you wanted to go to bed too.” Shari knew that she had his attention. “After both of you crashed Richie and I went to the cabin cruiser at the dock and drank some more.”
“What happened?”
“How graphic do you want me to get?”
Tyler Cy pushed some buttons on the control panel and the treadmill stopped. He placed his hands on his hips. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this back then?”
Shari shrugged. “It was sort of like don’t ask, don’t tell.”
“And you’ve made me believe all of these years that Jayla was my daughter.”
“I could have told you and gone ahead and given birth and we could have adopted her. What difference does it make?” Shari puffed away some more. “We could afford to raise her and we have. Richie couldn’t.” Shari drained her wine glass.
Tyler Cy stared at her and studied the person he had married. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“The cops were here to ask some questions.” Tyler Cy said as Shari nervously tapped her foot. “Did you kill him?”
“Oh, screw you, Tyler Cy. You bailed me out of jail the morning that he was murdered.” Shari ground her cigarette out in the bottom of the empty wine glass. “I’m leaving for the night.” She ascended the stairs. “Keep using that treadmill. You need to lose some more weight.” Three minutes later Tyler Cy heard the door to the garage shut.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Shari hadn’t given any thought to where she was going to go. Her immediate situation called for her to simply get out of the house. She did not want to listen to Tyler Cy anymore. After she got out of the driveway and got on the road her instincts told her to drive to Raul’s Massage Therapy. She pointed the car in that direction.
The drive to Webster Groves didn’t take long. It was less than ten minutes; however, the destination did not produce the results she wanted. Raul had closed his business for the night. She was all alone and had no way to get in touch with him. Her gut told her that he might be at the apartment even though there was no green sign in the window. She redirected the car.
After scanning her identification card to open the security gate, Shari parked the car and made her way to the unit she had rented. Once inside she went to the kitchen counter. There was no note. He had failed to mention when he would be there next. The unit smelled stale, like the HVAC system had not been on for a while. She walked down the hall and peeked into the master bedroom. The bed was made. There was no sign of Raul. She checked the bathroom. Nothing. The place was empty.
It was reasonably early. She could have stayed at home and been lonely. There was no reason to stay in the apartment. Shari retraced her steps, got back into the Jag and pointed the car in another direction. Her next stop would include people—a lot of people.
The Aqua Mermaid had come to St. Louis years before. When it first docked on the Mississippi, it was a double deck boat used for riverboat gambling. After the Vegas thugs got their foot in the door, the Corps of Engineers decided that casinos on the river created too much confusion on the waterways. Surprise. Surprise. State politics went to work. The riverboat gambling industry became land-based casinos on waterways. Shari intended to make an appearance and see what the night might offer.
After flipping her keys to the valet attendant she entered the property, got a player’s card, and headed straight for the tables. Her past experience told her to stay away from the one-armed bandits. All the casinos in town advertised loose slots, but one night on those money grabbers could cure an inquisitive gambler. Shari was in the mood to play Pai Gow. It was simple. If the game got too confusing the dealer would set the cards. It was also slow enough to allow for conversation between players. She grabbed a seat and reached into her purse for a pack of cigarettes.
After lighting up she looked around the table. To her utter surprise Pork Chop, YouWho, Scottie P, and Captain Jer were staring st
raight at her.
“Oh my Lord,” Captain Jer cooed. “What brings you here tonight?”
“I’m bored.”
“Aren’t we all?” Pork Chop asked.
“Not me,” YouWho replied. “I’m here to listen to BowTye.” He nodded to the stage where the clubhouse attendant at Prairie Winds was warming up. “He’s the king of the rockabilly blues.” BowTye had played all of the honky-tonk river bars for years before making it big. Now he played the casino circuit and was a frequent guest musician at the St. Louis establishments.
“I can’t seem to get away from you guys,” Shari remarked. “I didn’t know public play golfers went out.”
“Did you think only the country clubbers could afford nights on the town?”
“Well I didn’t….” They cut her off.
“There are guys with bucks at the public courses too,” Pork Chop added.
Shari immediately puffed on her cigarette. With the smoke funneling out of one end she dug into her purse for $500. The dealer spread it on the table and converted it to chips.
“Her name is Pui,” YouWho said. “She been tough on us.”
“Be careful,” Pork Chop added as Shari put chips on the table. She eased into the game.
Captain Jer was conspicuous by his silence. He was busy observing.
“After what you said the last time we were in the presence of each other I don’t want to talk to you,” Shari said to Jer.
“My apologies. Sorry to offend you. It must have been the alcohol talking.” He raised a bottle of beer in the air. “I’ve had a few tonight too.”
“He have to do that to us ev’wee day,” YouWho said. He looked at his cards then set them down on the table. “I need Pui to have Pai Gow.”
“You and me too,” Scottie P said.
“Make it three of us,” Pork Chop added. “I’ve got nothing.”
After the cards were set Pui turned over her hand. The guys could spot what she had immediately. “Pai Gow!” they shouted in unison.
YouWho tapped his fingers on the table as BowTye started up the music on stage. “Maybe Shari be our good luck charm.”
Captain Jer’s thoughts went to his lost opportunity in the SPRITZ promotion. “That’s doubtful.” He took a healthy swig. “We were lucky.” He grinned as his stack of chips grew.
