Accessories & Alibis (The Presley Thurman Mystery Series Book 10)

by Laina Turner

  “Thanks for seeing me. I am so sorry for your loss,” I said, holding out my hand to shake his.

  His face flickered with sadness for just a moment but then he soon pasted his salesman smile back on, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were sad. “Come on back to my office,” he said.

  When we were settled in his office, along with steaming hot coffee his assistant brought us, I thought quickly about how to start this conversation without seeming rude or obnoxious. I needn’t have worried as he did it for me.

  “So you said Roxanne called you?”

  “Yes, this morning.”

  “How did she seem?”

  “About as you would expect. Scared, upset.”

  “You explained a little on the phone, but I’m not clear as to how you know Roxanne,” he asked.

  “I don’t know her all that well. She works for me at Silk.”

  His eyebrows rose. “, I haven’t heard her mention you before and she talks about that place constantly. Used to drive me nuts at get-togethers,” he chuckled, but it seemed forced.

  “I just took over officially yesterday,” I said.

  “Ah, it makes more sense now. I vaguely remember her mentioning there was someone taking over the place. So you worked with her for a day, and now you’re sitting here talking to me on her behalf?” He was skeptical; probably trying to figure out what kind of person would do that and what my motives were. The same things I would think if I were in his shoes.

  I could see how from his perspective, it did seem rather weird, and I wasn’t about to dwell on the fact that technically I had only worked with her for minutes before she was arrested. I decided the best course of action was just to try and ignore the obvious and focus instead of trying to help her and hope he was willing to help her too.

  “I understand if you don’t want to talk about this right now. I know this is a difficult time, and all but when Roxanne called and suggested I talk to you, I didn’t want to wait.”

  “No, no. I wouldn’t want you to wait. It’s a great loss, but the show must go on, and I would do anything to help Roxanne out. What exactly can I help you with?”

  “Do you think Roxanne is innocent?”

  “I do,” he immediately responded, giving me the answer I expected, not hesitating for a second. “I don’t think she could hurt anyone. Much less Drew.”

  “I’m assuming you knew Drew fairly well,” I asked.

  “Yep. We started this company in grad school and knew each other before that. About seven or eight years I would guess. We were college roommates freshman year and have been friends ever since.”

  “What exactly does The Whole Pi do?” I said.

  “We run algorithms that are predictors for actuaries who you know mathematically evaluate the probability of events and quantify the contingent outcomes in order to minimize the impacts of financial losses associated with uncertain undesirable events,” he recited sounding like he was giving a sales pitch.

  I sat there with a blank look on my face. He had lost me at algorithm. In fact, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I knew what that even meant.

  He smiled. “We create computer programs that predict things.”

  “Ok,” I said. “That makes much more sense,” and we both laughed.

  “It’s not easy to understand if you aren’t a math nerd,” he said. “I don’t even fully understand it,” he leaned over and whispered like we were sharing some big secret, and I could see how he would be good at sales. Sitting back up he said, “the product was Drew’s thing. He was the brains. I just do a good enough job with pretending I understand to sell the product to people who need it. Mostly insurance companies.”

  “Math was never my strong suit. I liked it until we hit fractions in the 5th grade, and I got lost after that. Do you have any idea who killed Drew?” I said finally.

  He sat there for a minute, and I could see him thinking.

  “Like I said, I don’t think it was Roxanne. Drew loved her, and she sure seemed to love him. I never saw them fight or heard of them fighting. They got along great from what I could tell. I was envious.”

  Interesting. That was what Joyce had said. They must have been some couple.

  “Did Drew have any enemies? If it wasn’t Roxanne is there someone else out there who could have done it?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine that is what I also told the police. Drew was a good guy.”

  “Did they mention any leads? The police I mean,” I said.

  “I knew they had already arrested Roxanne and I didn’t ask. This is going to sound horrible, but I was a little relieved they didn’t suspect me.”

  His comment took me by surprise. “Why would you think they would suspect you?”

  “Isn’t that normal? Aren’t most murders committed by someone close to them? We’re business partners so it makes sense they might suspect me. You know, business disagreement gone wrong? Roxanne and me were the closest to him. It seems logical we would be suspects. But I didn’t kill him, I assure you, and I don’t think she did either.”

  “You like Roxanne,” I said.

  “Of course I do. Drew loved her, and she was a part of his life as I was. We were like brothers, so I loved what he loved. It’s been that way for years.”

  I wondered if there was more to it than just a brotherly interest. Every time I mentioned Roxanne’s name he just got this look on his face. If I had to guess, I would say Rod had a bit of a crush on her, which didn’t mean either one of them killed him.

  We chatted for a few more minutes, but he didn’t add anything that made me go “Aha that’s who killed Drew,” so I stood up to go. I needed to get back to Silk.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” I said.

  “Anything to help Roxanne and find Drew’s killer. I know she didn’t do it. I hope you believe me, believe her,” he repeated again. He was becoming a broken record. The more he said he knew she didn’t do it, the more I wondered if there was more to their relationship than just a casual friendship.

  “The only way to prove that is to find out who did. If you think of anything else that might shed light on who, besides Roxanne, might have killed Drew, please let me know. I want to help her.” Even though I did feel Rod was protesting Roxanne’s innocence pretty strongly, I also believed it more and more, and I did want to help her. Everyone who said she was innocent couldn’t be wrong, could they?

  “Thanks, Presley,” he said, shaking my hand. “I appreciate your helping Roxanne.”

  As I pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the freeway, I debated about making this next stop. But felt if I was going to help Roxanne, and I wanted to on one hand and knew I probably shouldn’t on the other, then I needed to. So I headed north, instead of south toward Silk. One more hour away wouldn’t kill me, though Katy might, and maybe this would give me more of the answers I was seeking.

  Shortly after leaving The Whole Pi, I pulled into visitors parking for the jail where Roxanne was being held. I wanted to talk to her and get more information. If they would even let me see her, which I knew there was a possibility that might not happen. But I needed to try at least to talk to her face to face and make sure I felt she was innocent.

  I walked in, and the place was downright scary, but I guess it was a jail, it was supposed to be. I went through the metal detector that was at the entrance and after reassembling myself from that experience I walked up to the window that had an information sign above it. A tired-looking middle-aged woman was working behind the window, but she was pleasant when I walked up, offering me a smile.

  “What can I help you with, dear?”

  I smiled back and said, "I am hoping I can see someone.”

  “Well let me try and help you out with that. Name, please. The prisoner’s that is.”

  “Roxanne,” I said and waited while she punched some keys on her computer.

  “You’re in luck. She just came back from her arraignment. If you had been a half hour earlier, she wouldn�
��t have been here. Can I see your license?” She took it and glanced at it, typing information into her computer. “Just a sec and let me print something out for you. Ok,” she said sliding a piece of paper my way. “Take this paper over to the doors across the hall to the right of the pop machine, see that green door with the guard in front of it?”

  I nodded.

  “Show him this, and he will let you in where there will be a bunch of other hoops to jump through but once you’ve jumped through them, you will be able to see her. There is still an hour left of visitation but by the time you actually get in to see her you will have about thirty minutes left.”

  “Ok, thanks,” I said taking my paper and walking in the direction she told me, thinking thirty minutes wasn’t a very long time, but at least it was something. I had been worried she wouldn’t be able to have visitors at all. I gave the paper to the guard, who looked at it, asked to see my driver’s license again. He then looked at both for such a long time I was beginning to feel anxious and guilty, and I hadn’t even done anything. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded and handed back the paper and my license. He then opened the door waving me into a cubicle that was about twelve by twelve and had a desk with one person sitting behind it and one person standing next to it. I walked up and again handed over my paper and license. One guard patted me down; I assumed in case I was creative enough to get through the metal detectors with contraband. The other checked my paper against something in a big three-ring binder and then called somewhere to have them bring prisoner #1278600 down.

  “No touching, no loud voices, no suggestive movements or your visit will come to an immediate end,” the guard who had patted me down said in a very serious tone.

  I nodded, more than just a little intimidated about the whole process and starting to regret my decision to come here. I was very uncomfortable.

  “I need verbal confirmation,” she barked and I jumped.

  “Yes, I understand,” I said stiffly.

  “You can head into the room and have a seat at one of the tables until your prisoner arrives.”

  My prisoner, I thought. Never thought I would hear those words being said. I looked around, and there were a handful of people already visiting with their prisoner and a few like me just waiting. If I didn’t know where I was, it would almost seem like I was in a school lunchroom just waiting for a friend. It had that same institutional feel. I sat watching the door waiting for Roxanne and about fifteen minutes later she arrived just as I was starting to get worried I would completely run out of time before she got here. As it was, there was only about twenty minutes left of visiting time. They brought her through the door, a different one than I had come through, and she was cuffed. The guard unlocked the cuffs and walked back through the door, and Roxanne came over to me.

  To say she looked a mess was an understatement. I couldn’t imagine even what she was going through.

  “Oh my God, Presley, you came to see me,” she said and started to lean in to give me a hug and a voice came across the loudspeaker.

  “No touching,” the voice said and she recoiled and just sat down across from me, hands folded in the lap of her baggy orange jumpsuit.

  “You came,” she repeated, sounding so grateful, I was glad I had come. Even if for nothing else but to give her moral support.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked.

  “Piece of cake,” she said trying to play it off which would have worked better if her eyes hadn’t filled with tears that she quickly brushed away. She was trying to be tough, but I could see right through it.

  I gave her a look. “How are you holding up?”

  Her tears started flowing freely then, and I almost regretted asking but I was worried about her. She looked like hell.

  “I’m doing about as you would expect. They arraigned me today and officially charged me, assigned me a public defender, and set my bail.”

  “They set bail?” Officer Castillo hadn’t thought it likely, so I was surprised, but it seemed like a good thing.

  “Yeah, but at a million dollars cash or bond, so they might as well not set any. The love of my life is dead, and I won’t even be able to go to his funeral because I’m stuck in here.”

  Even I could handle that basic math. To secure a bond you, usually, had to front at least ten percent and ten percent of a million were still a lot of money.

  “They think I’m guilty, Presley. I mean they really do!”

  I hated to point out that she wouldn’t have been arrested if the police hadn’t thought she was guilty but could understand how, if she were innocent, it would be hard to understand how others would find her guilty. We were raised to trust in the legal system, but like everything else it was fallible and Rod was right that as the closest people to Drew, they would be likely suspects. But I was puzzled that Rod seemed to be an easily dismissed suspect, and yet Roxanne was sitting here. What did they have on her? It had to be pretty convincing to the cops.

  “I didn’t do it. You have to believe me!” she cried.

  “That’s why I’m here. I need to know why the police would think you did it if you didn’t. There has to be a reason, some evidence, something that led them to suspect you.”

  “Like I already told you, because someone is trying to frame me. I think it’s his parents,” she said her voice rising and then she realized she was getting loud and looking around before continuing to speak in a lower voice. “That’s why I need your help to prove Drew’s parents are trying to blame me for this while the real killer is still out there. I can’t do that from in here.”

  “Roxanne, why would his parents blame you?”

  “Because they hate me.”

  “They might hate you, but without some evidence the police wouldn’t have arrested you.”

  “Drew’s parents are powerful people.”

  “Even still, Roxanne. What information do they have that could have put you in this position?” I knew there had to be something the police thought made her look guilty, or they wouldn’t have arrested her. “Roxanne, if you want me to help you, you have to tell me.”

  Precious minutes ticked by while we both stayed silent. The longer she went without saying something, the more I felt she was holding something back.

  Finally, she started to speak. “They have an email I sent him the night he died. But I was angry, and it was something that I said, not something I meant or would do.”

  “What did the email say?”

  “I said I was so mad I could kill him.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Well, it had all the reasons why I was mad, but when the police questioned me, they said I threatened him and must have followed through on it.”

  I racked my brain, thinking surely I sent an email at some point in time, saying I wanted to kill someone. I made a mental note not to do that again.

  “But I didn’t,” Roxanne continued, interrupting my thoughts.

  “That’s the only reason they think you did it?” It didn’t seem like a lot of proof, and I was skeptical.

  “That’s all I know.”

  Nothing against Roxanne, but she was the manager of a store. Drew owned a company. Unless it was personal, and I wasn’t getting that impression. It seemed someone would stand a lot more to gain from killing Drew than Roxanne. They weren’t married or anything, so it’s not like she would benefit from his death financially.

  “Do you have any idea who would want Drew dead? If it’s not you?”

  “No! Everyone loves Drew.”

  Which was what Rod has told me. Could someone really have it out for one of them, but they not have any idea who that could be? Call me cynical but I felt that to be unlikely.

  “If I’m going to help you then I need more information about you and Drew and anything that you think might be at all relevant to what happened.”

  “So that means you’ll help me?”

  “I want to hear your story first, Roxanne. From the beginning.” I thought m
aybe something would jump out at me pointing to who might have a grudge against either of them. I also was hoping to get more of a firm sense, although proof would be even better, of her innocence. I didn’t think an email written out of anger necessarily meant she was guilty, but something that would prove she didn’t do it would be helpful.

  “Ok, that’s fair. I met Drew about five years ago, but we didn’t start dating until about twelve months after that,” she said and started chronicling the last four years. Walking me through everything as quick as she could before our time was up which didn’t give her much time.

  I walked out of the jail happy to be in the sunlight. That place was dreary and grey. I would go crazy locked up, and I hated to think of anyone innocent being stuck in there and I was fairly certain Roxanne was innocent, email or not. Much like what Rod and Joyce had said, she seemed very in love with Drew and from her story they were like any other normal couple. But unless it was a completely random act of murder, and the police certainly didn’t think so, there had to be someone out there with a reason to kill him and frame Roxanne.

  Pulling out my cell phone and turning it back on as I neared the car, I saw there were three voicemails from Katy and seven texts just saying, call me. How long had I been in there I thought and checked my watch. Not long enough to warrant this many calls. Katy was more than capable of handling any issue that might arise. My heart started beating faster as I was instantly worried that something else bad had happened. I doubted Katy was calling this many times to ask me to bring her back a latte.

  I hit redial as I opened the door to my black Kia and slid in, turning on the engine.

  “It’s about time you called back. Where have you been?” Katy demanded as she answered on the first ring.

  She sounded frantic which wasn’t normal for her so now I really was worried.

  “I went to the jail to talk to Roxanne after talking to Rod. Why? What’s wrong?”