Before Jenessa left the house, Detective Provenza phoned her and told her that the CSI team estimated the woman had been dead for ten or eleven years based on the carbon dating test that the forensic anthropologist administered to the bones. They couldn’t get any closer than that.
“So it could have happened any time between when Lucy left Hidden Valley and up to a year or so later,” Jenessa mused, which would include the next summer after Ramey had graduated, the summer Logan learned the truth.
“Sounds about right. We’ll have to search for a way to pin the timeline down a little tighter,” he said. “I’ll go back and try to pinpoint when the last call came in on her cell phone, if the phone company still has those records.”
“Or they’re still in business.”
“True.”
“And don’t forget about her banking information. When’s the last time she wrote a check or took a cash withdrawal from the ATM?” Jenessa asked.
“I’ve already boarded that train of thought,” the detective said. “You know, Miss Jones, I appreciate your willingness to help me out, so I’ll share with you what I can, but I need you to keep what I tell you under your hat.”
“I understand, and don’t worry, I never reveal my sources.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about not printing anything I tell you until we’ve got a suspect under arrest and I give you the all clear.”
“Got it,” she agreed. “Any luck hunting down her old boyfriend, Tony Hamilton?”
“Not yet, but we’ll keep searching. He very well could be the one who killed her and buried her body,” George speculated. “Probably fought over drugs or something.”
“So then it’s possible she never made it out of the valley at all, that she was murdered by Tony right after she told Ramey good-bye.” That would clear Logan, wouldn’t it?
~*~
Jenessa strolled into the Hidden Valley Herald and greeted the elderly receptionist. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it, Alice?”
The woman pointed her bony wrinkled finger toward Charles’s office. “Somebody’s in trouble,” she sang. “They’re expecting you.”
They?
Chapter 27
Jenessa knocked lightly on the door to Charles McAllister’s office before pushing it open. “You want to see me, boss?”
“Yes, come in and take a seat.” He gestured toward the closer of two club chairs opposite his desk. The farthest one was already occupied.
“You know Grey Alexander, don’t you?” Charles asked, nodding in the man’s direction.
Jenessa’s back stiffened and her legs felt like rubber. She hadn’t had a chance to brace herself for this encounter, but then, that was Grey Alexander’s style—ambush his enemies before they have time to prepare a defense.
She drew in a deep, silent breath to steady herself and mustered her strength, focusing her gaze on the chair. “Yes, of course.”
It was critical that she make it to the seat and claim it before Grey began his attack. She willed herself to the chair and sank down in it.
Head up and shoulders back. Don’t let him see fear.
Charles leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “It seems we have a little problem, Jenessa.”
“What problem?” she asked in her most innocent voice, keeping her eyes on Charles.
“Mr. Alexander says you’ve been harassing his family and he wants it to stop.”
Jenessa forced herself to turn in Grey’s direction and look him in the eye, doing her best to mask any sign of trepidation. She thought of her words to Ramey the night before about exuding confidence, and right now she needed to borrow some of it. She was not going to let Grey Alexander reduce her to a scared little rabbit again. Grow a backbone, Jenessa!
“What seems to be the issue, Mr. Alexander?” She willed her gaze to meet his angry eyes.
“Questioning my wife and then quizzing my ex-wife about my private life. Next thing I know you’ll be interrogating my son. I demand that you stop harassing my family and stop poking around in my personal business. If you continue to try to dig up dirt on my family, I’ll fire you and then I’ll sue you for harassment and slander, and anything else I can think of.”
“You won’t get much.” Her gaze broke from Grey’s as she momentarily turned to Charles. She shook her head and a sarcastic smile spread across her lips. “I don’t own much more than the clothes on my back.”
“What about that snazzy little sports car you drive and your parents’ nice house? Now that they’re both gone—”
Jenessa’s head snapped back to Grey and her gaze locked on his again. “Those things aren’t mine. I’m only using them temporarily.”
Grey leaned forward, resting an elbow on one knee, as if he wasn’t already menacing enough. “I’m sure your folks left at least part of their estate to you in your father’s Will. You can be sure I’ll take every bit of that and more if you don’t cease and desist immediately!”
Jenessa pulled back a little. “I am a news reporter, Mr. Alexander. Reporters investigate and find the truth. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I did not follow the facts wherever they lead me.”
Grey’s attention shot to Charles. “Do you believe this? It sounds like this girl is going to defy my direct order.” He bolted from his chair and turned back to Jenessa. “I’m warning you, Miss Jones—hell, I’m warning both of you—you stop harassing my family and digging into my life or you will both be very sorry you ever came to work for me.”
He stomped out and slammed the door so hard the windows rattled.
Jenessa and Charles stared in silence at each other for a moment. Now what?
Charles was the first to speak. “I know you’re questioning people for the homicide story. Are you sure you had to talk to Mr. Alexander’s wives?”
“I’m doing my job.”
“I know, I know, but isn’t there another way?”
It was obvious he was taking Grey’s threat seriously, afraid of losing his job.
Jenessa stood, shaking her head, then rested her hands on the edge of Charles’s desk. “Let me bring you up to speed, boss. The dead woman was Ramey’s mother.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” Yes, Detective Provenza hadn’t called her with the DNA results yet, but the picture inside the locket was all she had needed to know the body was Lucy’s.
“What does that have to do with the Alexanders?”
“Besides the fact that her body was found in the general vicinity of their lake house, Lucy St. John was…” Jenessa stopped before she told it all, wondering if she should spill it to Charles before she told Ramey.
“Was what?”
Jenessa leaned forward on the desk and lowered her voice. “This has to stay confidential for now, okay?”
Charles nodded his agreement.
“Lucy St. John had an affair with Grey Alexander thirty years ago and she got pregnant. There is a very distinct possibility that Ramey is Grey Alexander’s daughter.”
His eyes popped wide as the news hit him.
“But you can’t tell Ramey,” Jenessa insisted. “I haven’t told her yet—I wanted to wait for DNA confirmation—but I’m not sure if I should wait. What if someone else mentions it to her?”
“She won’t hear it from me, I promise. Now, tell me what else you found out.”
Jenessa explained all that she had discovered so far and what she was hoping Detective Provenza would pursue. “He’s trying to track down Lucy’s last boyfriend, a man named Tony Hamilton. He may very well end up being our killer, but if not, maybe he can at least point the cops in the right direction. Because if it wasn’t him, there are a whole host of Alexanders with about twenty million motives to get rid of Lucy.”
“Including Logan? I hear you two used to date.”
Ramey. “Yes, in high school.”
“Do you think he’s capable of murder?”
“He would have been about nineteen at the time, depending o
n when Lucy was killed. Under the right circumstances, with millions of his inheritance at stake, it’s possible, as much as I hate to think that. Love and money are the two most common motives for murder.”
“And you’re certain Lucy never told Ramey who her father was?”
“Yes, I’m certain.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to Jenessa, though, until Charles had just brought it up, but it could be possible Ramey had found out earlier but she chose to keep it quiet all these years. Was there any chance that Ramey might have gotten into a heated argument with her mother when Lucy told her she was leaving? Had Lucy blurted out the truth? Had she ended up dead somehow, at Ramey’s hand? That’s absurd—isn’t it? Jenessa felt sick at the idea of it.
“Are you okay?” Charles asked with a slight frown.
His question brought her focus back. “I’m fine.” Given a few minutes to clear her head and her stomach to stop churning, she would be.
He rose from his chair, signaling their meeting was coming to an end. “Of course we want to be the first to break this story when the police find the killer, Jenessa, but please try to stay under Grey Alexander’s radar—for both our sakes. My son has gotten used to three meals a day and a roof over his head.”
~*~
As Jenessa was driving home, Detective Provenza phoned her again.
“I got the results back from the forensic lab. You were right—the body belonged to Lucy St. John. They were able to identify her by her dental records.”
“Funny, Lucy didn’t seem the type to take care of her teeth,” Jenessa said, thinking about the stupor she was in most of the time.
“She’d seen Dr. Engelman since she was in her twenties. He’s since retired and passed, but he was my dentist too, and I remembered seeing her there a couple of times, so I asked the office for her records. Looks like she had a couple of cavities filled and a crown on her upper molars in her thirties.”
Jenessa was surprised Lucy would fork out the cash for a crown. They didn’t come cheap, although, she supposed that if she was in enough pain, and with Grey’s five grand every month, Lucy could have come up with the money.
“The CSI team found something else, too. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I can use all the help I can get with this one.”
“What is it?”
“Hold your horses, I’ll tell you, but like I warned you before, you’ve got to keep it under wraps, and promise me this goes no further, that you won’t print a word of this until the case is solved—or there’ll be hell to pay for both of us.”
“I promise, I promise. What is it?”
“Well…” he started out reluctantly, “there was a black plastic comb found with the body. It had a few strands of light-colored hair on it. Luckily, one of the hairs still had the root attached.”
“I don’t remember seeing a comb.” Searching her memory, she recalled seeing something that looked like a button or a cufflink, but not a comb.
“I guess it was wedged under the body, like someone might have dropped it out of his pocket as he stuck her in the hole.”
“Tony Hamilton’s maybe?”
“Could be. Still haven’t found the sucker yet, but I’ll keep looking.”
“Who else do you suspect, Detective?”
“I can’t say, but I know you wanted us to search the Alexanders’ lake house, so maybe this is our chance. If the DNA were to match one of them, then…”
Apparently the detective suspected someone in the Alexander family too. “How do you propose getting DNA from any of them?” Jenessa asked.
“I’m not sure yet. There’s got to be a way to get some without their knowing it, ‘cause if they find out, we’ll feel the wrath of Grey Alexander for sure. Maybe,” the detective paused, as if he was hesitant to proceed, “I could enlist your help? As a civilian, you can do things I can’t—that’s what you said, right?”
“I’m happy to help, Detective, but I’ll have to think about how we can accomplish that.”
A tone pinged in Jenessa’s ear, alerting her to another incoming call. Glancing down at the phone’s screen, she saw it was Michael. “I’ve got to go, George. I’ll get back to you.”
She switched calls. “Hello, Michael.”
“Hey, I only have a minute to talk, but I just got the news that I’ve been approved to start work as a detective and I wanted to share it with you.”
“Oh, wow. That’s fantastic!” she exclaimed. “When do you start?”
“My field training begins tomorrow. I’ve been assigned to work with Detective Provenza.”
“Oh, yes, George. That’s great.”
“You’re on a first-name basis with him? How’d that happen?”
“I have my ways,” she replied, trying to sound mysterious, but she couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up. “Seriously, though, we should celebrate. Any ideas?”
“How about I take you for dinner and dancing at The Brass Razoo?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a cool new country-western place. They have good food, great music, and a big dance floor. It went into that old Rustler’s Steakhouse that shut down a couple of years ago.”
“Sounds like fun. Pick me up at seven?”
Chapter 28
As Michael held the door to The Brass Razoo open for Jenessa, lively country-western music spilled out. The hostess seated them right away at a table not far from the dance floor. A cover band was playing a Rascal Flatts’ song over the din of conversation and the clatter of dishes and silverware. A handful of couples were dancing to the fast-paced music.
“What do you think?” Michael asked.
Jenessa’s gaze roved over the room, trying to take it all in. She drew her attention back in and focused on her date, flashing him a bright smile. “I hope the food is as good as the music.”
He nodded and smiled. “It is.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“A couple of times.”
It wasn’t a place he would bring his young son or his parents. Had he brought another date here? Stop that. It was silly to be jealous. Jenessa had no claim on him. She opened a menu and stuck her nose in it.
After a little more small talk, the waitress came and took their orders.
“Would you like to dance while we wait for our food?” Michael asked.
“Sure.”
He took her hand and led her to the polished, hardwood dance floor. The next song that the band began to play was a slow number. Michael slid his left arm around her waist and held her hand in his. Her body was lightly pressed against his and his nearness was exhilarating. She laid her head against his firm chest and listened to the strong rhythmic beat of his heart as they danced.
“I love this song,” she muttered.
“So you want me,” he said.
Jenessa pulled back and looked up at him, a little surprised by what he said. “What?”
“The name of the song—So You Want Me.”
She let out a nervous giggle. “Oh, the song.” She rested her head on his chest again and continued to slow dance.
The song ended, but they stayed on the dance floor for a few more. Finally, they returned to their table and waited for their food. Michael pulled out her chair, and she looked up at him briefly before she sat. She wasn’t used to such chivalry.
As soon as Michael took his seat, Logan approached their table. Was this guy going to show up everywhere she went?
“Hello, Jenessa,” he said, ignoring Michael’s presence at the table. The smell of alcohol was heavy on his breath.
“Logan,” she replied.
“Would you like to dance?”
“No, Logan. I’m here with Michael.”
“Oh, he won’t mind,” Logan turned to Michael, “will you, buddy?”
Michael shot out of his chair and towered over Logan. “The lady said no.” His voice was strong and forceful. Then, he reined it in and lowered the volume. “Keep moving, Logan.”
“You don’t tell me what to do!” Logan took a swing at Michael, who bobbed out of the way.
“You’re drunk.” Jenessa stood too. “Please leave.”
“I just want one dance with you. Is that too much to ask?” Logan wobbled and stepped in close to her. “Just one lousy dance.”
“Come on, Logan.” Michael took hold of one of Logan’s arms. “Let’s call you a cab.”
“She’s my girl!” Logan yanked his arm back and took another swing at Michael.
This time, Michael wasn’t ready for him and Logan hit him on the side of his jaw. Michael came back with a right hook and jabbed Logan in the eye, then another in the mouth. Logan began to sink to the floor, but Michael caught him and set him in a chair.
A crowd started to gather around their table.
“Nothing to see here,” Michael called out, with his arms outspread and his hands flipping back and forth, as if he was herding cats away. “Go back to your tables.”
The customers wandered away, many glancing back over their shoulders, watching the town’s first son, intoxicated and bloody, slunk down on a wooden chair.
Jenessa stood between Logan and most of the crowd, trying to shield him from someone wanting to get a photo or video with their cell phones. Was that Sara she saw in the crowd?
Michael must have seen Jenessa protecting Logan, for a furrow creased his forehead as he returned his attention to them.
Logan’s eye was beginning to swell and his mouth was bleeding. Jenessa grabbed a couple of heavy paper napkins and blotted the blood.
Blood! DNA.
She grabbed a few more napkins, folded them around the bloody ones, and slipped the wad into her purse. This wasn’t the way a cop would preserve evidence, but it might be enough to get a DNA match to the hair that was found on the comb. The reporter in her wanted to find the truth, but part of her hoped it would prove the hair couldn’t be his. She didn’t want to believe he could be the killer.
When she looked up from her purse, Michael was staring at her with a quizzical expression on his face.
“I’ll explain later,” she said, hoping that would suffice.
He whipped out his phone. “After I settle the bill, I’m going to step outside and call for a taxi. Too noisy in here.”
The Lake House Secret, A Romantic Suspense Novel (A Jenessa Jones Mystery) Page 16
