But Not For Naught: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 5)

by BJ Bourg

  She was beaming and I detected a glint of moisture in one of her eyes. “Are you happy?”

  I smiled and wrapped her in my arms. “Thank you so much, Love!”

  There was a coughing sound from the doorway and I quickly let go of Susan and looked up, more than a little embarrassed. Beth Gandy was standing there smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the judge is on line one and I didn’t think you’d want to keep him waiting.”

  “No, you’re right.” I thanked her and quickly snatched up the phone.

  “This is weak, Clint,” came the judge’s gruff voice. “I’m going to sign it because there’s enough probable cause to believe she might’ve been involved, but I want you to be careful with this one. Don’t go kicking her door down or tearing up her place or anything like that.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “I’ll be emailing the signed copy in a minute.”

  Before I could thank him, he hung up the phone. I dropped the handset into the cradle and turned to Susan. Her eyebrows were raised.

  “Well, are we in?”

  I smiled. “We’re in.”

  CHAPTER 24

  It was late in the afternoon and the sun was going down when Susan and I knocked on Connie Taylor’s door. She scowled when she answered and saw me standing there.

  “What now? Did I forget to pay a parking ticket?”

  I frowned and handed her a copy of the search warrant. “I hate to bother you like this, but I’ve got a warrant to search your house.”

  “A search warrant?” she echoed, snatching the document from my hands and scanning it quickly. “For what?”

  “I’m looking for a nine millimeter pistol and—”

  “I already told you I didn’t have a pistol.” She shoved both fists on her hip, the warrant crumpled in her right hand. “I was very cooperative and I gave you everything you requested, and this is how you repay me? And you don’t even have the decency to tell me that’s what you were doing? See if I ever cooperate with you again, Clint Wolf!”

  “Ma’am,” Susan said, cutting in, “he had no choice. I’m the chief of police here and I want him to cover all the bases. He absolutely believes you, but the only way he’ll be able to convince the district attorney you’re cleared as a suspect is by searching your house. If he would’ve told you he was coming with a warrant, the DA could argue you got rid of the evidence before he got here.”

  “Whatever—do what you have to do and get out of my house.” She turned away and disappeared into the house, leaving the door open behind her. “Mom! The cops are here and they’re going to search the house.”

  “What?” cried an elderly woman’s voice. “Why on earth would they do that?”

  “Because I’m a criminal, that’s why,” Connie retorted.

  Working her crutches as fast as she could, Susan followed Connie into the shadows and I heard Susan ask for everyone in the house to join her in the living room. “It’s standard procedure,” she explained. “We want to keep everyone together so we can ensure everyone’s safety.”

  “No one is searching this house without me,” Connie challenged. “My mom will sit in the living room, but I’m following whoever is doing the search.”

  Susan glanced at me and I nodded. “That’s fine,” I said. “I don’t mind Mrs. Taylor keeping an eye on me.”

  Once Connie’s mom was comfortable, I read Connie her rights and then asked her to lead me around the house.

  “Am I under arrest?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  She stared at me for a long moment, then huffed and began leading me through the house, beginning in the living room first, the kitchen next, through each of the guest bedrooms, and then the three bathrooms. When we reached the master bedroom, I saw a large fireproof safe in the walk-in closet. I tried the handle, but it was locked.

  “Can you open this for me?”

  She hesitated.

  “I can haul it out of here and have it cut open, but I don’t want to do that,” I said. “I just need to see what’s inside.”

  Grumbling some more, Connie worked the combination dial and stepped back when it clicked to indicate that it was unlocked. I twisted the handle and pulled the heavy door until I could see inside. Considering how she’d been acting, I expected to see a nine millimeter pistol in the safe, but the only gun was an old shotgun in the far corner.

  “Is that the shotgun you got from your grandmother when your grandfather died?” I asked.

  She nodded and reached for the door of the safe to close it. “Like I told you, it’s the only gun I have—”

  I blocked the door with my foot, cutting her off. “I’m not done.”

  Connie huffed and stormed toward her bed and dropped onto it. “This is Thanksgiving week and I’ve got a lot to do,” she said, “so I’d appreciate it if you would hurry and finish this witch hunt so I can get back to work.”

  I nodded and scanned the interior of the safe. There were half a dozen shelves with boxes and files stacked on them, and I hated to have to go through every one of them, but I needed to be thorough.

  I began with the top shelf and started rifling through the first box I touched. Inside, there were receipts, warranty documents, and a couple of birth certificates. I replaced the lid and put it back on the shelf, and then started going through the next box.

  “Can you work any slower?” Connie asked from where she sat on the bed. “At this rate, you’ll be here until Christmas.”

  I continued searching the boxes on the first shelf and was about to move to the second shelf when a box on the very bottom of the safe caught my eye.

  CHAPTER 25

  The lid was partially off the box and I could see the corners of a thick document sticking out of it, as though it had been thrown hastily back inside. When I reached for it, I thought I heard Connie groan.

  I tossed the lid aside and pulled out the document. It was the life insurance portfolio she had shown me earlier. I flipped through the pages. Everything was in order. I glanced in the bottom of the box and scrunched my brow when I saw another document.

  I was about to reach for the document when Connie bolted from the bed and started pacing back and forth in the room. “Okay, look, I increased his life insurance policy, but that was only so I could cover his gambling debt. It was getting out of hand and I was worried I would lose the house if anything happened to him.”

  I watched her for a few seconds and then pulled the paperwork from the box. It was an amendment to double the amount of the life insurance on Mitch, and the reason cited was an increase in annual salary. “Why didn’t you mention that in the amendment?” I asked, straightening.

  “That’s not a justifiable reason,” she retorted.

  I nodded and read over the form. She increased the life insurance six months ago, which was around the same time Foster said she asked him to kill Mitch. I pointed to the edge of the bed. “Ma’am, can you have a seat?”

  Connie wrapped herself in a hug and plopped at the corner of the bed. “I swear it’s just a coincidence.”

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest and studied her for a minute. Finally, I asked if she knew why I was able to obtain a search warrant for her house.

  “Um…no, not really.”

  “Would it surprise you to know that I’ve been interviewing people close to you and someone claims you asked them to kill Mitch?”

  “That’s a lie! I never asked him to kill anyone!”

  I saw her face drop when she realized she’d said “him”.

  “Look, we both know you asked Foster Blake to kill your husband six months ago, which is around the same time you increased the amount of coverage on his life.” I paused and let that sink in. “When he turned you down, did you ask anyone else?”

  A tear leaked from Connie’s right eye. She shook her head, trying to keep her trembling chin under control. “No, and I only asked in a moment of weakness. I didn’t really mean for him to kill Mitch, a
nd Foster knew it. He knew I was fraught with grief and I didn’t mean for any harm to come to Mitch.”

  “I don’t know. He seemed convinced that you wanted Mitch dead. In fact, he said you offered to pay him to kill Mitch.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “Why would he lie about that?” I cocked my head. “Do you really believe someone would lie about being offered money to kill another person? What would be his motive for doing that?”

  “He’s probably the one who killed Mitch and he wants to take the blame off of himself, that’s why. Did you ever think of that? Instead of harassing me and my family, maybe you should be out there investigating him.”

  “If I run your name through the FBI database, will I find out that you own a nine millimeter pistol?”

  She shook her head, but didn’t say anything. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was staring down at the ground.

  “What about Mitch? Has he ever purchased a nine millimeter pistol? I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time a man was killed with his own pistol.” When she didn’t say anything, I repeated the question. “How about it? Did Mitch own a nine millimeter pistol?”

  “No…not that I know about.”

  “Let’s change gears for a second.” I pulled out my cell phone and pulled up the photo I’d taken of Chris Jenkins, the guy Mitch had testified against. I showed Connie the picture. “Do you recognize this guy?”

  She squinted to see better, and then nodded. “That looks like Chris Jenkins.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen him in court when Mitch had to testify at his trial.”

  “Do you remember him threatening to kill Mitch for testifying against him?”

  “Yes, I do remember that happening.”

  “When’s the last time you spoke with Chris?”

  “I’ve never spoken to the man.”

  “Are you saying you never offered him money to kill your husband?”

  “I’m saying I’ve never spoken to the man—ever.”

  “So, if he says you paid him to kill your husband, would that be a lie?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It might interest you to know we found a nine millimeter pistol in his possession and that pistol will soon be in the possession of the crime lab. If that pistol is proven to be the murder weapon, and if it’s shown that you gave Chris money to kill your husband, well…” I shook my head slowly. “That won’t bode well for you.”

  “You’re not listening to me, detective…I’ve never spoken to Chris Jenkins. I don’t know the man and he doesn’t know me.”

  “So, if he says you paid him to kill your husband, he would be lying just like Foster Blake?”

  “That’s right.”

  “The whole world’s lying and Connie’s the only one telling the truth. Is that what you want me to believe?”

  “You know what? I’m done talking. I want my lawyer.” She grinned wickedly. “Oh, he’s going to have a field day with you.”

  “Okay, call him up.”

  “What?”

  “Your lawyer, give him a call.” I pulled out my cell phone and handed it to her. “I want to keep talking to you, so call him and invite him to the party.”

  Not sure what she should do, Connie dialed the number to her lawyer. When he answered, she told him what was going on and then handed me the phone. I told him who I was and explained why I was there.

  “Is she under arrest?” he asked.

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Do you anticipate arresting her?”

  I stared down at Connie and sighed. There were three things I knew for sure: first, she offered Foster money to kill her husband; second, she wanted her husband dead six months ago; and, lastly, she had increased the life insurance so she would be all set when he was gone. The problem with all of that was this: I wasn’t convinced she still wanted him killed. It seemed she had moved on with her life and had given up on Mitch. If that was true, I was running out of suspects.

  “Detective? Do you anticipate arresting her?”

  “No, I don’t,” I finally acknowledged. “But I’d like to talk with her some more.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that.”

  Although he couldn’t see me, I nodded and handed Connie the phone. “You can tell him I’m almost done here.”

  CHAPTER 26

  When Susan and I had finished searching Connie’s house, we got in my Tahoe and headed for Old Man Pat’s Place. It was almost nine o’clock in the evening and it was downright cold. The temperature had slid into the thirties and a fifteen-mile wind was blowing in from the north. Susan shivered as we waited for the air from the vents to warm up.

  I shot a thumb over my shoulder. “I have a jacket on the back seat.”

  Grateful, Susan twisted in her seat and retrieved it. After shrugging into it, she groaned in relief. “God, it feels so good, and it smells like you.”

  As I drove, she began talking about the wedding and she asked me if I was okay with having it on a cruise ship. “If you don’t want to have it there, we can discuss it,” she said. “I know a lot of emphasis is always placed on the bride, but this is our wedding, and I want you to be happy with everything, too.”

  “I was happy enough when you agreed to marry me.” I smiled and caught a glimpse of her face in the glow from the dash lights. “Everything else is just lagniappe.”

  “So, you don’t mind going on the cruise?”

  “No, Love, I don’t.”

  She gave a gleeful yelp like she did when she’d found out she would be fighting Antonina Ivanov for the title. “This is so exciting! Did I tell you we found the perfect dress?”

  “You did. When will I get to see it?”

  “When I walk down the aisle.” She grunted. “You know the groom can’t see the bride’s dress before the wedding.”

  The talk about the wedding got me thinking about my dad and Crystal again. “Hey, can you look up that Crystal Montana again? If she is my sister, I want to make contact with her and invite her and my dad to the wedding.”

  “Oh, sure.” Susan fished out her phone and began working her thumbs furiously across the screen. “Let’s see…”

  I kept my eyes on the dark road ahead of us, but I could see Susan working in my peripheral vision. She mumbled to herself as she searched the business page for BudRelat. “Ah,” she finally said, “here’s a phone number to the surf shop. Want me to call it?”

  I glanced at the clock. Nine-fifteen. “I don’t know. Do you think it’s too late? They’re probably closed.”

  “Unless the shop’s located along the pier. They might stay open as late as the bars and restaurants.”

  “Okay, let’s try it.”

  Susan called out the number as she dialed and then she shoved the phone against my ear.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” I asked, pulling my head away.

  “It’s your family…you talk to them.”

  I was suddenly nervous and unsure of myself as I held the phone and listened to it ringing. Scared, even. What would I say when they picked up? Who would pick up? The employment information stated that Crystal was a lawyer in Houston now, so maybe she didn’t work at the shop anymore. What if my dad answered? How was I supposed to ask why he’d abandoned me and my mom? How could I ask him why he’d never called or visited without sounding accusatory? Truth was, I didn’t really care why he’d abandoned me and my mom. I’d had a great life and Ezekiel Wolf had been an awesome father to me. I had no regrets. At this point, I simply wanted to get to know Garvan and Crystal. I was a bit curious as to why Crystal was living with him instead of my mother. Had my mom done something wrong, or had he turned Crystal against her? It was not easy for a father to get custody of a child from a mother, so that had me guessing.

  The call went to a voicemail and I cocked my head sideways when I heard a female’s voice saying they were closed for the day but that I could leave a message and t
hey would call back first thing in the morning. Was I hearing the voice of my long lost sister? She sounded different than I’d imagined. I figured she would be smart, confident, and have a Texan accent. While she did sound smart and confident, she had a bit of a Cajun accent.

  I shoved the phone back to Susan when it beeped for me to leave a message. “Hang up,” I whispered.

  “Closed?”

  I nodded, lost in thought. I suddenly realized nothing about this man or girl would change anything. Whether I made contact with them or not my life would continue as usual, and so would theirs.

  “What’s up?” Susan asked. “You’ve got this intense look about you.”

  “I don’t really know how to feel about all of this. At first, it was a little disconcerting to learn that my dad isn’t really my dad, but now that the initial shock has worn off, I realize everything will go on as usual—just like when you find out Santa Claus isn’t real. It’s a real shock at first, but then you realize next Christmas will be the same as the last.”

  “You mean Santa isn’t real?” Susan’s mouth dropped open in feigned disbelief. “What will I do now?”

  We both laughed and then Susan turned her attention back to the phone in her lap.

  “What if they stayed away for a reason?” I asked. “What if Garvan didn’t want me around? I mean, why choose to take Crystal but leave me behind?”

  That brought Susan’s head up and I could see her eyes misting over in the interior lights. “Don’t even think that way. I’m positive there’s a perfectly good explanation for what happened.”

  “What would be a good enough reason for a father to stay out of his future baby’s life?” I wanted to know. “Can you think of one? Because I sure can’t.”

  Susan’s silence told me all I needed to know. She didn’t say another word until I pulled into the parking lot of Old Man Pat’s and shut off the engine. “Whatever the reason,” she said, “we should find out soon enough.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What’d you do?”

  “I left a message on her BudRelat page saying you were her brother and you wanted to speak with her and your father. I gave her your cell number.”