The Dead Daughter

by Thomas Fincham

  “What?” Holt growled.

  “Our job isn’t to focus on one suspect but all suspects.”

  Holt did not look convinced.

  Fisher said, “Sharon Gardener turned off the cameras.”

  “Yes,” Holt said. “So that her husband wouldn’t have any proof of her affair.”

  “What if her daughter caught her leaving the house, and she threatened to tell her father? So far, we have no information indicating the victim and Gardener had a strained relationship. In fact, Gardener’s reaction wasn’t an act when he saw his daughter’s bloodied body in bed.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?” Holt asked.

  “I can’t, but it is something to keep in mind. What if Sharon got into an argument with her daughter, and it got so heated, she stabbed her?”

  Holt tried to wave Fisher’s suggestion away.

  “Just think about it,” Fisher insisted. “Gardener was asleep in the guesthouse. He couldn’t have heard any commotion all the way there. But Sharon could have heard something from her bedroom, which was next to the victim’s.”

  “No, she couldn’t have,” Holt corrected her. “She wasn’t even at home at that time, remember?”

  Barrows put her hand up to stop them. “This is no time for you two to be arguing. Your job is to find me a suspect with enough evidence for me to get the jury to convict that person.” Barrows paused to collect her thoughts. “I could have made more money in a private firm, but I chose to work for the DA’s office instead. Believe me, there were many opportunities for me to switch sides. Every time I won a big case, the offers came flooding in. Do you want to know why I didn’t leave this position? Because I wanted to feel like I’ve righted a wrong in this world. It’s a simple way of thinking, but it is the only way I know how to keep doing this job. What I’m saying is that so far, we have evidence against Paul Gardener, but if you bring me something against Sharon Gardener, I will keep an open mind and give it serious consideration.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Callaway followed the Ford 4x4 for twenty minutes on the remote road. The Ford then turned right onto a narrow dirt path. Callaway did the same.

  He was surrounded by tall trees and bushes on either side of him. He had no idea where he was, but he hoped his trip was worth it. If his hunch did not turn out right, he would have to start all over again. He was not sure what he would do then.

  The Ford slowed down and then moved up an incline. As the Ford drove along, Callaway spotted a house that had been shielded by the tall trees.

  Callaway did not go any further. He pulled the car off the dirt path and parked behind a giant tree. Callaway got out and approached the house on foot. The home looked more like a cottage than a house. The structure was small, made entirely of wood, and had a triangular roof.

  Callaway thought about going up to the door, but there was no telling what awaited him inside. He already had a shotgun pointed at him, and he did not want to take any chances.

  Even though he had a permit for concealed weapons, he hated carrying his gun. He always worried about what would happen if he had to use it. If he did, it could only mean he put himself in a situation that ended up in a shoot-out. The outcome from that would definitely not be what he wanted. Callaway had no desire to spend any time in prison, which was why the gun was currently locked up at the beach house. But today, as he contemplated his risky situation, he suddenly felt vulnerable.

  Maybe I should have brought the gun, he thought.

  The Ford pulled away from the house. When it was out of sight, Callaway made his way up to the front door.

  He knocked on the door. It swung open. A man wearing a t-shirt, pajamas, and no shoes stared at him in shock.

  “You’re not my father,” he muttered.

  Before the man could shut the door, Callaway pushed his way in. The man stumbled and fell to the floor.

  “Mike Grabonsky?” Callaway asked.

  Mike’s eyes filled with horror. “Please don’t hurt me. I don’t have the money. I swear.”

  “Get up,” Callaway said.

  Mike stared at him.

  “Listen, Mason sent me to look for you. Do you want me to tell him I found you?”

  Mike shook his head.

  “Then get up and we’ll talk.”

  Once they were seated across from each other on small sofas, Callaway asked, “How did you get involved with someone like Mason?” Mike did not look like the type of guy who gambled. But then again, most gamblers were average people who had a family and a decent job.

  “It’s not what you think,” Mike replied.

  “Okay, then tell me.”

  “I didn’t go to the racetrack or lose money at a poker table. I invested in something that was supposed to be risk-free.”

  “It always is until it’s not.”

  “No, seriously. On the advice of my real estate agent, I bought a property. The place was in real bad shape. The neighborhood was up-and-coming, and I figured this was the best time to jump in. I borrowed money from the bank, I tapped my lines of credit, and I even took money from our savings. I was certain I could pay it all back once I flipped the property for a profit.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got conned by a shady contractor. I should have seen the red flags when he promised to have the project completed in half the time I thought was needed. I was glad to save some money. I really didn’t have enough cash to complete the project anyway. I didn’t even have a contingency fund in case the project went over budget. The construction began on schedule, but the contractor kept asking for money because he had to buy supplies, pay his employees, and get permits, and so I kept paying him. The place quickly turned into a money pit. Then, one day, the contractor suddenly disappeared. The house was only halfway done, and I was out of money.”

  Callaway sighed. “So you went to Mason?”

  Mike shrugged. “I had no choice. I needed ten thousand to keep the creditors away. If I didn’t come up with it fast, the bank would’ve taken the house, and I would’ve lost everything.”

  “And how were you going to pay Mason back?” Callaway asked.

  “I was hoping to buy enough time to find a buyer who was willing to take over the property in mid-construction. I have all the required permits. I have enough materials to move the project further. I just didn’t have the manpower to get it done. I am sure some builder would be willing to finish the job.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  “I had a builder seriously interested, but he backed out right at the last minute. I quickly lined up another, but by then, Mason was after me.”

  “So you ran?”

  “I had no choice.”

  “You know they were at your house.”

  Mike’s shoulders slumped. “I just found out from my father. He and I never saw eye to eye, but when I told him what I’d gotten myself into, he let me stay here.”

  “How long were you expecting to hide?”

  “Long enough for them to go away.”

  Callaway gave Mike a stern look. “People like Mason never go away. With them, you can’t even declare personal bankruptcy and hope the debt is wiped out. It stays with you until you die.”

  Mike’s eyes widened.

  “What about your car?” Callaway asked. “The Plymouth Road Runner. Why don’t you sell it and pay Mason back?”

  “I would, but it’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “Do you think I’d leave my family and run if I still had the car?”

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s repossessed.”

  “Why?”

  “I had to finance it to fix it up. But then I fell behind on the payments.”

  “By how much?”

  “Three thousand.”

  Callaway pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “So, let me get this straight. You owe money to the bank and other creditors, you owe money to Mason, and you owe money to the finance company. How much money in to
tal are you in the hole?”

  “If I had to make an estimate, I’d say eighty.”

  Callaway almost fell off the sofa. “Eighty thousand?”

  Mike lowered his head and nodded.

  Callaway stood up. “I guess you deserve what’s coming to you.” Callaway was terrible with money, but even he knew never to get in too deep, especially with scumbags like Mason.

  Mike jumped up. “You gotta talk to Mason for me. Make him understand my situation.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You seem like a reasonable person.”

  “I am, and that’s why you’re still here and not in front of Mason.”

  Tears formed in Mike’s eyes. “Please. I’ve got a family. You have to help me. I just need enough time to find a builder, sell the house, and pay off my debts. I swear I won’t jump into another scheme ever again.”

  “What you’re telling me requires time. I can talk to Mason, but I doubt I can convince him to wait that long.”

  Tears flowed down Mike’s cheeks. Fear glinted in his eyes. Callaway knew Baxter would hurt Mike the moment he got a hold of him. Mike was not a bad person. He was just someone who fell into a bad situation.”

  “Okay, I’ll try to get you out of this mess, but you have to do whatever I say, got it?” Callaway said.

  Mike nodded. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  TWENYT-NINE

  Outside the District Attorney’s office, Holt stormed toward his car with Fisher right behind him. He knew Fisher was right when she said they should keep an open mind as far as other suspects were concerned. He just could not believe Sharon Gardener would have killed her only child. The woman was distraught to the point where Holt wondered if she needed counseling. Maybe it was guilt that was eating away at her. As for Gardener, he might be feeling no guilt because he had given his daughter what he felt she deserved.

  As for suspects, Holt had come into this investigation with an open mind. It was only when he saw the bloodstain on Gardener’s shirt that he became suspicious. Then other things began to fall into place. There was the murder weapon found in his car. How did it get there? And what about his story of not remembering what happened that night? How was that possible? He did not consume enough liquor to black out.

  Maybe Paul Gardener has a low tolerance level for liquor, Holt thought, but he quickly dismissed the possibility. During their sweep of the house, he had spotted empty bottles of alcohol in the guesthouse’s garbage can. Gardener may have been a casual drinker once, but lately, he was consuming far more than average. Regardless, his lack of memory seemed too convenient to Holt.

  He was unlocking his car when a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up next to him and stopped. The driver’s side door swung open, and a man in a dark suit stepped out. He was tall, had a thick mane of white hair that was combed to one side, and he had smooth, tanned skin.

  He extended his hand and introduced himself as if Holt did not know who he was. He did. Everyone in the state knew him.

  Senator Barron Lester had been elected three times to the upper chamber of Congress. He was currently up for re-election, and very few people thought he would lose. His popularity was high, as his platform focused on the poor and the middle class.

  Holt shook his hand and introduced his partner.

  “I’m sorry to surprise you like this,” Senator Lester said. “I didn’t want to show up at the police department and make a big scene.”

  “It’s alright, sir. What can we do for you?” Holt asked.

  “It’s about Kyla.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Fisher said.

  “Thank you,” Senator Lester replied. “As you can imagine, this tragedy has shaken my family and caused me great distress. I’ve had to take time off my campaign to mourn the loss of my only grandchild. I didn’t get to see Kyla as often as I should have. My position in the Senate has kept me busy and away from my family. I now regret that deeply. It is why I want to be as much help as possible.”

  “Help, sir?” Holt asked, confused.

  “I know my son-in-law is under investigation. If there is anything I can do to assist, I want you to know I am available.”

  “Thank you, sir, but we have everything under control.”

  “I’m sure you do. Your services to the city and state are greatly appreciated.”

  Fisher said, “I have a question, if you don’t mind.”

  Senator Lester smiled. “Of course not. Please ask.”

  “Did you ever get any wrong vibes from your son-in-law?”

  He frowned. “How so?”

  “Did he have any anger issues? Or maybe a temper?”

  Senator Lester shook his head. “I can’t say he did. In fact, I think he’s one of the politest people I’ve ever known. I’ve never seen him raise his voice at anyone. Not even at Kyla when she was young.”

  Fisher was surprised. “Never?”

  “I’m sure once in a while he must have gotten frustrated and snapped at someone. I know I’ve said many things under pressure. But I wouldn’t say Paul had a bad temper.”

  “What is your son-in-law like?” Fisher asked.

  “He’s always come across as an honest, hardworking, and dedicated family man. He’s an upstanding citizen.”

  “Are you aware that he and your daughter were having marital problems?”

  “Sure, Sharon mentioned it to me. I always want my children to be happy. If the marriage was causing her pain, then she has my support in whatever decision she makes.”

  “I apologise for being so blunt, sir,” Fisher said. “But do you think your son-in-law could have murdered your granddaughter?”

  Holt grimaced. The last thing they wanted was to offend a sitting senator whose dedication to the office was beyond reproach. Fortunately, Senator Lester smiled again. “It’s a fair question, and I am more than happy to answer it. No, I don’t think Paul killed my granddaughter. I refuse to believe it. But I am old enough to understand that you never know what people are capable of under duress.”

  Fisher’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “I know I shouldn’t say this, I don’t want to influence your investigation, but Paul’s business has been suffering lately. I know he was under a great deal of financial stress.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  Senator Lester looked at his watch. “I should be going. I have an important meeting to attend.” He stuck his hand inside his jacket pocket and removed a card. “I would greatly appreciate it if you guys kept me abreast of the investigation. My personal cell number is on the back. You can call me day or night.”

  THIRTY

  Holt and Fisher watched as the Lincoln disappeared from view.

  Fisher turned to him. “Why do you think Senator Lester came to see us?” she asked.

  “Maybe he wants us to know how important this case is to him,” he replied.

  “Sure, I get that. But why does he want us to keep him abreast of the investigation?”

  “He wants to know if we dig up any dirt on his family. You have to remember, he’s up for re-election.”

  Fisher nodded. “It can’t be good for him having the public see his son-in-law charged for murdering his granddaughter. The optics look really bad.”

  “Or it might end up helping him get re-elected,” Holt said.

  “How so?”

  “Senator Lester has a flawless record, but even that doesn’t guarantee victory. There is a strong group of candidates this time around. If one of them catches the voters’ interest, Senator Lester is looking at a long, hard fight.”

  Fisher frowned. “Okay, but you still didn’t answer my question.”

  “No one from Sharon’s family was in court for Paul Gardener’s bail. Even Sharon was a no-show,” Hold replied. “I think the family is distancing itself from the entire situation. Paul Gardener came into the family by marriage. He is not related to them by blood. Isn’t it suspicious that no family member has m
ade a public statement in support of Gardener?”

  “Maybe they are waiting to see what we find first.”

  “Maybe.”

  Holt opened his car door, but he paused before getting behind the wheel. “I’m curious. Why did you ask Senator Lester if his son-in-law had anger issues?”

  “Someone strangled and then stabbed Kyla Gardener. The act had to be committed in a fit of rage.”

  “Are you saying it’s a crime of passion?” Holt asked.

  “Maybe.”

  Holt made a face. He did not like the sound of that, and she knew why.

  “This means it might not be premeditated and therefore not murder in the first degree,” she said.

  “That’s not for us to decide,” Holt said. “We lay the charges, we gather the evidence, and we leave it up to the jury to decide whether it’s the right punishment or not. And you always go for the extreme charge and hope the perpetrator pleads to a lessor one.”

  “I thought you didn’t want Gardener to plead?”

  “I don’t. I still believe he murdered his daughter, and if his wife hadn’t lied to us, he might still be in jail right now.”

  Holt got in the car.

  “Where we going?” Fisher asked.

  “Let’s go talk to the man Sharon met that night.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Callaway knocked on the steel door and waited. As he expected, Baxter slid the small window open, revealing his eyes.

  “Baxter, it’s Lee Callaway,” he said. “Let me in.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Are you seriously going to start with this?” Callaway asked, annoyed.

  “Boss is a busy man.”

  “Just let me in, okay?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “Okay, fine. Let’s see what Mason thinks when he finds out I came to talk money and you didn’t let me in.”

  Baxter huffed and unlocked the door. I feel like I’m in a bad B movie whenever I come here, Callaway thought.

  He stormed up the steps, but then he waited for Baxter to hold the door open. Mason was on the phone, and his face lit up when he saw Callaway.