“Hey, we got you into this.”
He did have a point. Besides, he probably had quite the savings built up from ripping her off for all the cappuccinos in the past. But she’d wait for the most opportune time to broach that subject.
“You’ve just got to promise me that you’ll give him an honest try,” Terry added.
“I will.” With the thought of Hershey being trained, hanging in seemed easier to imagine. But maybe it also had something to do with Terry’s talk before he left last night about Hershey being given to her out of kindness. She opened her mind toward Hershey a little more. She’d even taken him for a walk before crawling into bed. And he could be kind of adorable when he chose to be.
“So are we ready to nail this guy’s ass to the wall?” Terry asked, steering the conversation to work. “I really think that he did it.”
“That would make two of us.” She filled him in on what her research had turned up last night—or this morning, depending on how one looked at it.
“Can’t believe you found out all that after I left. Okay, maybe I can. Oh, and just for the record, I couldn’t sleep, so I made calls and did some research at home.”
“Thanks.” She reached for her cappuccino and took another sip of it, savoring the flavor, appreciating the full body of the beverage and the smoothness. Never a bitter edge with a Starbucks. She wished she could sit there and enjoy it until it was finished, but no such luck. Her desk phone rang.
She didn’t pick it up but looked toward the front desk where Officer Ranson was facing her. Ranson hung up.
Madison didn’t need to hear Ranson’s message, she saw the man at the front counter. “Looks like the suit’s here.”
“Yeah, only he’s not wearing a suit.”
Suit or no suit, he still radiated defense attorney. Clean-cut, angular-jawed, trim, and reeking of money from a distance. He wore navy-blue Dockers with a gabardine wool sweater.
“Good morning.” He held out a hand toward Madison. “I’m Randal Irving. I assume you’re Detective Knight.”
He held her hand firmly, as any professional lawyer does, with forced eagerness and an added flavor that indicated you could confide in him yet at the same time not fully trust him. “Yes, I am.” She wondered how he knew she was Knight and figured Darren Taylor must have told him she was a woman.
“Detective Grant.” The lawyer shook Terry’s hand. “All right. Now that we have the pleasantries out the way, please lead me to my client. I’d like to consult with him before you bombard us with your questions.” Randal had a face that warranted mistrust, with busy eyes that seemed to take in everything all at once.
Madison and Terry led Randal to interrogation room one.
“Go on in and we’ll have Mr. Taylor brought up from the cells shortly,” Madison said.
“Well, Darren was right about one thing, Detective.” Randal moved around a piece of gum in his mouth that he must have kept concealed until now. “You’re one fine-looking woman.”
Had he seriously just said that?
“I suggest you align your focus to your client. Or don’t.” Madison hitched her shoulders. “Your choice.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Madison and Terry sat across from the lawyer and Darren Taylor. Darren’s stubble, which had given him an allure yesterday, had become scraggly overnight.
Madison didn’t say anything as she opened a thick beige file folder. Inside were pages of evidence reports and crime scene photographs. She took her time finding and pulling out the two pictures she was after—the one of Claire in the morgue that Darren had seen the day before and one of a log cabin surrounded by woods. She placed them on the table.
Darren’s gaze first went to the photo of Claire. His expression was similar to his initial reaction from yesterday. There was no real shock either time.
“I’ve seen this before.” He looked at his lawyer. “Make her get rid of it.”
Randal gestured with a sweep of his hand for Madison to put it out of sight.
“No, this stays,” Madison began. “It’s there to remind us of what happened to Claire.”
“Do we really need a photo?” Darren moaned, but he didn’t show any emotion.
Maybe he doesn’t need the picture because he can vividly remember how she looked after he slaughtered her.
She pointed to the photo of the cabin. “Does this place look familiar to you?” She tried to lock eyes with him, but he was looking at Randal.
“I don’t see what this place has to do with the case, Detective.” Randal Irving sat back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and then he pushed his pointed index finger on the picture. “Was the victim not killed in her own home?”
“She was, but he likes to vacation here.” She slid her gaze to Darren, but he was avoiding eye contact.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Randal steamrolled. “You’re holding my client in regards to questioning for murder, not where he decides to vacation.”
“It’s ironic how your client chooses to vacation where woodland caribou are hunted.”
Randal sighed. “I’m failing to see the relevance.”
“Mr. Taylor stayed in one of these cabins back in—” she consulted her file for dramatics, not for a forgetful moment “—September.”
“Point, Detective.” Randal pressed his brows.
“Point, Mr. Irving, is that Claire was murdered with a Bowie knife. A Bowie knife, in case you don’t know, is used for hunting.”
Randal’s teeth clenched. “So because Mr. Taylor stayed at this cabin sometime in September, you’re trying to pin a murder from last week on him? The connection?”
“It’s coming. Don’t worry.”
Randal clasped his hands impatiently in his lap.
“As I mentioned, woodland caribou are indigenous to the Newfoundland region, where these cabins are, where your client stayed. But this is where it matters to me.” Madison leaned across the table. “Forensic evidence suggests that the blade used to kill Claire had DNA trace from a woodland caribou.”
“Suggests?” Randal mocked. “Surely, you have something better than suggests.” He smirked at Darren, who returned the expression. “And how does a caribou being tied to the murder weapon pull in my client?”
“There was also male DNA.”
“From the murder weapon?” Randal waved a finger over the table. “So you recovered the knife that killed her?”
“Not exactly.”
Randal chuckled. “What’s that mean?”
“This trace, the caribou, and the male DNA were taken from Claire’s wound. It’s obvious caribou DNA didn’t just magically get there. It makes logical sense the trace would have been on the knife.”
Randal chose to remain quiet.
Madison turned to Darren. “Why were you at that cabin?”
Darren looked at Randal, who nodded his consent for Darren to answer, but he didn’t say anything.
“Is there something you’re hiding from us?”
Now Randal spoke. “You’re implying that my client is withholding information.”
“It sure seems like it.” Madison held a stare with Randal that communicated maybe if he kept his mouth quiet for a moment they could make some progress. She then looked back at Darren, who just sat there staring into space beyond their heads with no real focus but in obvious concentration. He rubbed at the growth on his face.
“Why were you at the cabin?” she prodded.
A few seconds passed…
“Oh God.” Darren pinched his nose with one hand and waved the other in the air, silently requesting a tissue. There wasn’t any on the table, but Randall pulled one from a pocket and handed it to him. Darren dabbed his nose. A nosebleed again. “I wasn’t hunting,” he said.
“What were you doing there then? They cater to hunters,” M
adison stated with an air of indifference.
Darren’s face took on hard lines. His mouth set into a scowl, and his eyes were licked with the heat of anger and betrayal.
“Give us your DNA to rule you out. It would be that easy.” If you’re not guilty.
“My client is not going to do that.”
“Guess we keep talking, then.” If she got enough out of him, they could obtain a warrant for his DNA. Her gaze went to Darren, and he seemed to be looking everywhere but at her. “What are you thinking about, Mr. Taylor?”
“I’m thinking that I’m an idiot, a naive bastard who bends to the power of the female, who allows himself to be manipulated and played with like a pawn in a chess game.” He moved a hand over the table as if moving an imaginary piece on a board.
Randal was subtly shaking his head and passing looks at Darren.
“Because Claire took your program?” Madison kept pushing. He’d previously acted like it was no big deal that Claire had stolen it, but now he seemed to be letting his guard down and showing his true feelings. The question was, was he upset enough about it after all these years to kill over it?
“Yes,” he hissed, “it’s because she stole my program.” He flailed a hand toward the file folder and turned the photo of Claire over in the process, but his gaze settled on the cabin.
When Madison had called Natural Adventure Outfitters and asked about Darren Taylor, the owner had remembered him right off because Darren had left the cabin a mess. He’d also said that Darren wasn’t alone, but that he’d been there with two women. Madison had an idea who one of them might be. “Did you go there with Claire?”
“Darcy Simms.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“Why were you there together?”
“What does this have to do with Claire’s murder?” Randal asked.
Madison looked the lawyer in the eye and said, “Both Darcy Simms and your client stood to inherit money from Claire’s will. Maybe they were planning the murder?”
Darren dabbed the tissue to his nose and balled it in his hand. “If that’s what you think, then why isn’t she in here being interrogated?”
Huh, no reaction to the mention of an inheritance.
“She doesn’t fit the physicality of the killer,” Madison said. “But you do.”
-
Chapter 31
“PHYSICALITY OF THE KILLER,” RANDAL repeated Madison’s words and leaned across the table.
Madison mirrored his action, indicating by her body language that she wasn’t backing off. “Your client is the perfect height. Add this to other evidence.”
“Circumstantial evidence,” Randal interjected.
Madison continued. “He stayed at a cabin where woodland caribou are hunted with Darcy Simms. Both of these people had reason to be upset with Claire Reeves, and they were beneficiaries of Claire’s will… That equals motive.”
“Listen, it wasn’t just me and Darcy at that cabin,” Darren said.
This was the second time that Darren hadn’t given any reaction the mention of being a benefactor in Claire’s will. He must have known, and then it would seem that he was going out of his way not to give them any indication that he did. But by not responding to it at all, he was tipping his hand. If he hadn’t known, in the very least it wasn’t a surprise to him. But she’d get back to this. Right now, she wanted to keep Darren talking. “Who else was at the cabin?”
His eyes dived to the table.
“I know there were two women,” she said, revealing the hand she’d been holding back.
Darren shrugged. “She was a great piece of ass. Had red hair, shoulder length.” He rubbed his knuckles against his chest. “Caliente.”
Madison snapped her fingers. “Why were all of you there if it wasn’t for hunting?”
He stared at her blankly, a twisted smirk spreading to the corners of his mouth. “Ever hear of a ménage à trois, Detective? Let me know when you want a go sometime. I could arrange it.” He winked at her.
Terry stepped up beside Madison. “Shut your mouth. That is no way to speak to a law enforcement officer.” Terry glared at Darren until Darren broke eye contact, then Terry continued. “I’d suggest you start talking. We know you and Darcy had a reason to want Claire dead. Maybe this other woman did, too? By not telling us her name, you’re interfering with a police investigation.”
Randal squared his shoulders. “That’s quite the specul—”
“How did you know they both wanted her dead?” Darren interrupted his lawyer.
“Oh Lord.” Randal flailed his arms in the air.
Terry leaned over, bracing both hands on the table. “What was the other woman’s name?”
No response.
Terry looked at Madison. “They all did go up there to scheme a murder.”
“I think so,” she responded to her partner.
Terry turned his attention back to Darren. “I just don’t think you thought your plan all the way through. I’m having a hard time seeing how you’re getting off, Mr. Taylor.”
Madison sat back, letting Terry take a run at the interrogation.
“Where did you go when you left Claire’s Wednesday morning?” Terry asked.
“I told you yesterday. I caught a flight to Tahiti. You can check it out.”
“Don’t worry about that, Mr. Taylor. We will.”
Madison looked at her partner. She’d asked him to look into the flight records, but he obviously hadn’t gotten around to that.
Darren was sniffling and squirming in his chair. “I left on a flight at five in the morning.”
“I thought you said that you left Claire’s at three in the morning.”
“You have to be there…beforehand.” He seemed to struggle for a fast response.
Terry played the power for silence for a few beats, then said, “Are you sure you don’t want to rethink the time you left?” Terry slipped his hands into his pockets and jingled change he had there. “Keep in mind, you’ve already confessed to being in Claire’s home within the actual window of time of death. Sounds suspicious enough to me right there. Not to mention your motives.”
“You’re referring to the will?” Randal asked.
“That and the fact Claire had stolen a valuable program from your client,” Madison said. “She made a lot of money because of it. Add to this that Claire set your client up and pretended to marry him, but she knew it was all a sham.”
“How much money did she leave me?” Darren asked, and it warranted a sideway glance from Randal and a shake of the man’s head.
“One million,” Madison punched out.
“Wow.” Darren was grinning. “Claire did like me.”
“Obviously, my client had no prior knowledge of this, thereby eliminating a motive.”
“Maybe he was surprised by the amount, but he said nothing when I first mentioned he was a benefactor.”
Darren motioned for Randal to move in closer to him.
Randal held up a finger to Madison and Terry, asking for a moment.
Madison glanced at Terry and tried to suppress a grin. They were getting somewhere with this case now.
Darren and Randal broke their huddle, and Darren said, “Okay, maybe I got confused about my days.”
“Seriously?” Madison asked skeptically.
“Those wee morning hours always confuse me, whether it’s to be considered Tuesday night or Wednesday morning.” Darren’s mouth curved slightly upward but a smile wasn’t given full birth. “It was actually Thursday morning that I caught a plane to Tahiti.”
“For a job? That part’s still true?”
“Yes.”
“All right, well, that still leaves Wednesday morning unaccounted for, Mr. Taylor. You said you were at Claire’s Tuesday until the wee hours of Wednesday. Or are you confused the
re, too?”
“Yes… No. I’m not confused. I was there.”
Madison felt a surge of excitement. He’d kept to his original story that placed him at Claire’s during the time-of-death window. “But originally you lied to us? About leaving to catch a flight? Wasn’t that the reason you provided for leaving Claire’s in a hurry?”
“I was in a hurry. I had to work.” Darren remained adamant.
Terry let out a moan. “If you lied about when you flew to Tahiti, why should we assume you’re telling the truth about anything else?” Terry paced behind Madison. “Why should we believe that you left before Claire was murdered? Why should we believe that you didn’t do it?”
Darren dabbed at his nose with the tissue.
“And where did you go when you left Claire’s? We know it wasn’t the airport now,” Madison said.
Darren glanced at Randal, who splayed an open hand suggesting he answer her. “I went someplace.”
“We figured that,” Terry said sharply. “Where?”
Her partner could really be a hard-ass when he wanted to be.
“Can’t believe I’m involved in this mess,” Darren moaned.
Terry smacked his hand on the table as he had earlier; the loud thump awakening the urgency of a response.
Darren was avoiding eye contact again. “I went to another woman’s house.”
What was this, a daytime drama? Everyone sleeping with everyone, everyone having multiple partners?
“Her name, Mr. Taylor. Now.” Terry glared at him.
Darren held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Allison Minard.”
Madison’s heart fluttered for two reasons. Allison was the one who had found Claire, and now she knew why Darren’s voice had sounded familiar when they were introduced.
“DARREN WAS THERE…at Allison’s on Christmas day.” Madison stood outside the room with Terry.
His face scrunched up.
“Remember the man who was upstairs calling down to her? That voice was Darren Taylor’s. I’m pretty much positive.”
“Pretty much?” Terry smirked at her and she rolled her eyes. He added, “You could be right.”
Justified Page 18
