When she opened the door, she greeted her guest with a cordial smile, one she hoped told him that he was welcome. “Please, come in.”
He entered, then waited for her to close the door and move ahead of him into the room. “I appreciate your seeing me, Ms. Vanderley.”
“May I offer you something to drink?” she asked.
“No, thank you. Not right now.” He studied her closely. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Your cheeks are flushed.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I just had a disagreement with my cousin Wythe over the phone. My face tends to turn pink when I get upset. It’s the curse of having a very fair complexion.”
Chad smiled warmly, then asked, “Wythe is Lulu’s brother, right?”
“Half brother. Same father, different mothers.”
Chad nodded.
“Where are my manners? Please, sit down, Sergeant George.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask her any questions about the disagreement with Wythe. Her personal animosity toward her cousin and the reasons for it were no one else’s concern. Like the rest of the Vanderleys, she believed that family business should stay in the family.
“I’d like it if you called me Chad.”
“All right…Chad. And you must call me Annabelle.”
After sitting on the sofa, Sergeant George—Chad— reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a neatly folded packet of papers. “These are copies of Lulu’s date book entries for the past couple of months. My partner and I have gone over them and on the surface, there doesn’t seem to be anything there that might help us…except…”
“Except?”
Annabelle sat beside Chad and when he held out the papers to her, she took them from him. Even though her nerves were still a bit ragged after dealing with both Quinn Cortez and Wythe in the space of fifteen minutes, her hands were steady. She prided herself on keeping herself in check, in holding everything deep within her. Her emotions were private, not for public display. She’d learned how to pretend to be happy when inside she was dying during the years she struggled to be Chris’s faithful and devoted companion.
“Except there are two men, other than Quinn Cortez, mentioned in her date book during the past two months and I—we—were wondering if you know either man.”
Reading through Lulu’s date book seemed like an invasion into her cousin’s privacy. Seeing the little notes she’d scribbled in the margins, the funny doodles she’d made here and there, reminded Annabelle what a great sense of humor Lulu had. As a teenager, wherever she wrote anything, she’d always dotted the letter i with cute heart shapes and used hot pink and bright purple inks.
“Do you have any idea who Randy is?” Chad asked.
“Randy? I’m not sure, but it could be Randall Miller. Or it might be Randolph Chamness. I know Lulu was involved with Randolph in the past, but I don’t recall her mentioning him in a couple of years. I’d start with Randall Miller. I seem to recall that Lulu called both men Randy. Actually, she referred to them as ‘my Randy boy one’ and ‘my Randy boy two.’”
“Does Randall Miller live in the Memphis area?”
“As a matter of fact, he does. He’s in real estate, I believe.”
“That Randall Miller?”
Annabelle smiled. “Yes, the one who’s on TV and all the billboards. Mr. Memphis Real Estate.”
“Isn’t he like fifty and married?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Would he have a reason to kill Lulu?”
Annabelle sensed that Chad wanted her to assure him that her cousin’s married lover had no reason to want her dead. The sergeant thought he already had his man. He wanted Quinn Cortez to be guilty. But why?
“As far as I know, no one had a motive to kill Lulu.”
“Miller is a married man. If Lulu had threatened to tell his wife—”
“That wasn’t Lulu’s style,” Annabelle said. “She wasn’t into long-term relationships. It wouldn’t have served any purpose for her to have told Randall Miller’s wife about the affair.”
“Okay. We’ll check Miller out, ask him a few questions. If he has an alibi for Friday night, then that’ll be that.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“We’ll dig a little deeper.”
Annabelle flipped through the copied pages of Lulu’s date book and her heart stopped when she read the first entry that mentioned Broo. Scanning hurriedly she noticed the name at least half a dozen more times. “What’s the other name you wanted to ask me about?” she inquired, knowing full well what he would say.
“Do you know someone Lulu referred to as Broo?”
Gripping the date book pages, Annabelle considered her options. She had two—tell the truth or lie. She chose the former. “Broo was a nickname Lulu used for her brother Wythe. When she was a toddler, she couldn’t say the word brother, which is how Uncle Louis referred to Wythe. When she tried to say brother, it came out Broo. The name stuck. I don’t think Lulu ever called Wythe anything else.”
“Then these notations—phone calls and dates—were with her brother?”
Annabelle nodded. “Yes. They were very close and kept in touch on a regular basis.”
“I hate to ask this, but is there any reason—”
“Wythe was at home Friday night, attending a charity function there that the Vanderleys were hosting.”
Chad smiled. “No way a man can be in two places at once, is there?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“I realize we’ve already asked you this, but I thought now that you’ve had time to think about it—do you recall anything Lulu might have said to you recently about someone threatening her or an argument she might have had with someone?”
“I hadn’t spoken to Lulu in several weeks. I phoned her to give her an update concerning Uncle Louis’s latest doctor’s visit.”
Lulu had said, “I’m glad Daddy’s doing as well as he is. Give him my love and tell him that I’ll be home for Easter and I’m bringing a guest. I have a big surprise for him, for all of you.”
“What did you two talk about during that last conversation?”
“Nothing much. The entire conversation didn’t last five minutes.” Annabelle considered whether to share anything else with Chad—with the police. You might think it means nothing, but what if by telling them what Lulu said, it might help in some way? “Lulu told me that she had a surprise for the family, but she didn’t even give me a hint as to what it might be.”
“And you don’t have any idea what—”
“None whatsoever.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Just that she was bringing someone home with her for Easter. And before you ask, no, she didn’t say who and I don’t know.”
“Was she in the habit of bringing guests home for holidays?”
“Lulu wasn’t in the habit of coming home for holidays. She hadn’t been home even for Christmas in two years and it’s been four since she came home for Easter.”
“What did you make of what she said?” Chad asked. “A guest for Easter and a big surprise might have meant a special man in her life and maybe an engagement.”
“Yes, that thought did cross my mind.”
“Apparently she wasn’t contemplating marriage to Randy, since he’s married. Or to Broo, since he’s her brother. By process of elimination, that leaves only one other man mentioned in Lulu’s date book these past six or seven weeks.”
“Quinn Cortez.”
“If Lulu was expecting a proposal and didn’t get one, she might have gotten angry, turned on Cortez, perhaps even threatened him and when that happened, he lost it and killed her.”
Annabelle clenched her teeth tightly as she strained not to cry. Since learning of Lulu’s death, she had managed to rein in her emotions so that she could handle things for the family, but every once in a while, her grief rose to the surface, despite her best efforts to control it.
After sw
allowing that tight knot in her throat, Annabelle said, “With what could she have threatened him?”
With disappointment etched on his features, Chad grunted. “Yeah, you’re right. That scenario will work only if Lulu had something she could hold over Cortez.”
“And as far as we know, she didn’t.”
“As far as we know. But my instincts tell me that if we dig a little deeper, we’ll find something.”
“You want Quinn Cortez to be guilty, don’t you?”
Chad narrowed his gaze, reached out and took her hand in his. “I believe he is guilty, Annabelle. And I intend to prove it. Once Cortez is tried and convicted, you and your family can at least have closure. I want to do that for you.”
“Thank you, Chad…thank you.”
But what if Quinn Cortez isn’t guilty?
Chapter 9
Jim hated Monday mornings, especially after he’d had a Sunday off to spend with Kevin. And this Monday was no exception, only worse than usual. With the Lulu Vanderley murder hanging over their heads, the Director of Police, the DA and the mayor were demanding an arrest ASAP. If they didn’t find another suspect soon, Jim figured they might have to arrest Quinn Cortez on the barest circumstantial evidence Jim had ever seen in all his years on the force. Chad was chomping at the bit to pin this rap on Cortez; Jim was just as eager to prove the guy innocent. Why was that? he asked himself. Did he really believe that Cortez didn’t do it or was he just automatically lining up against Chad? He’d like to think that his personal doubts about Chad and having recently discovered that his partner was sleeping with his ex-wife wouldn’t affect his judgment. But he had to face facts— he was as human as the next guy, as easily influenced by his own gut reactions as anybody else.
The homicide department was buzzing with activity. Inspector Purser was playing host to a prestigious visitor right now, someone who might or might not play a crucial role in the Vanderley murder case. If Randall Miller didn’t have an alibi for Friday night, then as far as Jim was concerned, the guy should head their list of suspects, far above Cortez. After all, at this point, Cortez didn’t appear to have a motive.
After downing the last drops of his third cup of coffee since waking this morning, Jim crushed the Styrofoam cup and tossed it into the nearest wastebasket.
“We’re questioning Randall Miller first,” Chad said as he approached Jim. “I want to get that over with and eliminate him as a suspect so we can concentrate on Cortez.”
Jim gave Chad a sidelong glance. “What makes you so sure that Randall Miller didn’t kill Lulu? He’s a well-known, highly respected married man who had an affair with the deceased. In my book that makes him a prime candidate as a suspect.”
“My money’s on Cortez.”
Jim grunted. His gaze followed Chad’s as he watched Inspector Purser’s office door open. Jim instantly recognized the distinguished silver-haired man who emerged from the office as local real estate czar, Randall Miller. Miller shook hands with the inspector, his broad smile exposing a set of perfect, snowy white teeth. Ted Purser looked downright uncomfortable, probably well aware that his detectives were watching the exchange. Ted was a good guy who played by the rules. However, in his position he couldn’t forget that it wasn’t in his best interest to do anything that would deliberately upset the director or the mayor. Ted was a team player, just as Chad was. There had been a time, years ago, when Jimmy Norton had been, too. But not now. All he cared about professionally was keeping his job. And sometimes he wondered if this damn job was worth occasionally having to kiss ass, albeit, his version of kissing ass amounted to little more than begrudgingly going along with the status quo.
Ted made eye contact with Jim, then held up his hand and motioned to him.
“That’s our cue,” Jim said.
Chad placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Let me do all the questioning with Mr. Miller, okay?”
Jim shrugged off Chad’s limp clasp and, without replying, headed toward the inspector and Randall Miller. Chad caught up with Jim quickly and had his hand held out in greeting to Miller before Jim had a chance to say howdy.
“Good morning, Mr. Miller. I’m Sergeant Chad George”— he nodded toward Jim—“and this is my partner, Lieutenant Norton.” Chad exchanged a cordial handshake with Miller. “If you’ll come with us, we’ll make this as quick and painless as possible.”
Ted Purser smiled, relief showing plainly in his facial expression, a look that all but cried aloud, “Thank goodness Chad’s handling this thing with kid gloves.” After all, it was no secret that Randall Miller had been one of the mayor’s biggest supporters in the last election and that he and the DA, Steven Campbell, were not only fraternity brothers, but were both deacons in the same local Baptist church.
“I’m at your disposal,” Miller said, his ear-to-ear smile a bit irritating, at least to Jim. “I certainly want to do all I can to help the police find out who murdered poor little Lulu. Such a darling girl. My wife and daughters were quite fond of her.”
“What about you, Mr. Miller?” Jim asked as he motioned toward the interview room.
Miller looked at Jim, his thousand-watt smile dimming to five-hundred watts.
“Were you quite fond of Ms. Vanderley?” Jim asked pointedly.
“Yes, of course. We all were.”
So, this was how the guy intended to play it—Lulu had been a family friend and nothing more. But that’s not what Annabelle Vanderley had told Chad and that’s not what Lulu’s date book entries implied.
A couple of minutes later, when the three of them were behind closed doors and Miller was seated, Chad said, “Would you care for some coffee, Mr. Miller?”
“No, thank you.”
“How long had you known Lulu?” Jim asked, interrupting Chad playing cordial host.
“A little over a year,” Miller replied. “My wife and I met her at a dinner party held at a friend’s home.”
“I apologize for our having to question you,” Chad said. “But your name was in Lulu Vanderley’s date book with entries mentioning she’d met with you several times during the past two months.”
Without missing a beat, Miller explained. “Lulu was interested in selling her house and buying something a little more modern.”
Miller kept smiling that phony, insincere grin that made Jim want to slap the guy.
“So all those meetings with Lulu were strictly business?” Chad asked.
“Mostly, yes. We’d have a drink, talk business and discuss a few personal things, too.”
“What kind of personal things?” Jim asked.
“Oh, she’d always inquire about Valerie and the girls and I’d ask about her father. Just chitchat.”
The guy was slick. Jim would give him that. Smiling, not a drop of perspiration on him, hands steady and his body relaxed, Miller projected total self-assurance that implied he knew the police had nothing on him.
“Just a couple of more questions if you don’t mind,” Chad said.
“Sure thing.”
“First of all, do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm Lulu? And as much as I hate to ask, where were you this past Friday night between seven and ten?”
Miller’s smile wavered ever so slightly and he clamped his teeth together for half a second before recovering fully and responding. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm Lulu. She was a charming young woman. As for where I was Friday night—I was at the office late. I left around nine or so and arrived home well before ten. Feel free to check with my wife to verify the time.”
“We’ll do that,” Jim said.
Momentarily dropping his friendly facade, Miller glowered at Jim, then bestowed his locally famous TV smile on Chad. “If that’s all, Sergeant George, I’d—”
“Before you leave, I have one more question,” Jim said.
Not even glancing his way, Miller asked, “And what would that be?”
“Does your wife know that you were having an affair with Lulu Vanderley?”
“I take that as a no.”
“Take it however you’d like,” Miller said. “If we’re through here, I’d like to leave.”
“Certainly, that’s all. And thank you for your cooperation.” Chad escorted Miller to the door, opened it for him and followed him.
Jim stood in the doorway and called, “If we have any more questions, we’ll be in touch.”
Miller didn’t respond, just shook hands with Chad and walked away hurriedly. Chad turned around and gave Jim a damning look.
Bring it on, pretty boy. Tell me that I should have left the questioning to you. Tell me there was no reason to antagonize Miller. Ask me why I always like to stir things up. Just one Goddamn word out of you and I’m liable to punch your lights out.
Don’t do it, Jim told himself in no uncertain terms. So he’s screwing Mary Lee. What difference does it make? She’d screwed dozens of guys before, during and after their marriage. Yeah, but none of those guys had been his partner, and none of those guys had fucked Mary Lee solely because she was Jim’s ex-wife.
Chad opened his mouth to speak, but before one word came out, Annabelle Vanderley and some slender, lanky guy dressed to the nines entered their line of vision on the way to the inspector’s office. Chad moved toward Ms. Vanderley like a lion stalking a gazelle.
“Good morning, Annabelle,” Chad said. “I didn’t realize you were coming in this morning. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Thank you, Chad, but no. Inspector Purser telephoned to tell me that the results of Lulu’s preliminary autopsy should be available this morning.”
Chad glanced at the debonaire blond man accompanying Annabelle. “I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Wythe Vanderley. I’m Lulu’s brother.”
Amnesia Page 11
