The Death of Alan Chandler (The Red Lake Series Book 1)

by Rich Foster

  This was perhaps unfair, he thought. The explosive violence during the fight had revealed passions he never suspected in her. But, even in bed she was detached. Passion was not a word he would choose to describe their coupling. She claimed to enjoy making love but he suspected she never actually let go. He had never asked her about this. Maybe he was afraid she would say the problem lay with him. Or maybe he felt that she would tell him it did not matter. Lately, they seldom had sex. The frequency declined as financial troubles mounted. Alone in the woods Alan finally realized that his wife had simmering rage, and that it was directed at him and what their life had failed to become.

  Assessing his physical state, he knew he was slipping. The exertion and exposure were taking their toll. His Spartan diet was insufficient and out of balance. Sometimes food went right through him. He was thinning, his pants were loose in the waist and he had to cinch his belt tighter. The love handles he had complained of were rapidly melting away. His beard steadily filled out. At first he had been tempted to shave. There was comfort in the idea of performing this daily ritual. But he had only one extra disposable razor and might need the blades. Later, he found the hair protected his face from the night air. His hair became matted after he lost his pocket comb. He would brush it with his fingers. The scabs on his arms were healing but he seemed to acquire new cuts and scrapes each day. His fingers were raw, his palms blistered from rough work to which they were unaccustomed. The only improvement was a tan, which was replacing the office pallor he had when he left his home.

  Night settled on the woods as he pursued these thoughts. All and all he was pleased with how he had handled himself in the woods. He told himself he was playing the hand he was dealt, well. He found pride in finding a source of fire and in locating food. The climb up the cliff had shown gut reserves he never dreamed he had. But he sensed that time was working against him. Despite his determination to rest up and build his reserves, the demands of each day seemed to result in a net loss. Rest was never fully restful, and hunger never sated. Within, there was an emptiness, which never knew filling.

  The fog grew denser. He lay down to sleep among the pine boughs and hoped for better weather on the morrow. However that was not the case. For the next four days the fog persisted. Sometimes it thinned enough for him to gather wood, or to fish. But it never dispersed enough to lend him the courage to go very far a field. The fog trapped him. He was left alone with his thoughts.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lilly longed for normalcy. She wanted the police out of her house and her life. She didn’t want to sit in small poorly ventilated rooms answering questions. More than anything she wanted to know where the blood had come from in her kitchen. Yet, unless Alan showed, up she was not likely to have any of those things. He must be dead she thought. He would have called no matter how ugly the fight had been. She knew Alan and he would have needed to talk about it. He could no more not talk, than she could show her inner feelings. It seemed probable that he was dead. If that were the case she would be in even deeper trouble when the body turned up. The police seemed determined to hang a murder on her.

  She threw herself into her work. Charles Blain and she spent many hours together as the contractors commenced work on his house. They had dined together but after that one lunch, she had kept her fears to herself. He respected her reserve. On mornings when she knew it was obvious she had not slept, he made no comment. When her mind wandered, he ignored her lapses. She appreciated his restraint. Few people had the ability to not pry into others lives.

  Lilly couldn’t help but compare him to Alan. He was more reserved but far more playful about life. Certainly he was financially more successful. He asked nothing from Lilly and this was a relief. Alan was always questioning and pushing her to take a position. Charles had more confidence. When she was near him she felt everything would turn out right, with Alan life was constantly on the edge of crises. She found herself watching Charles when he wasn’t looking. She felt desire stirring, but her mind told her it was only admiration for him. At night as she hugged her pillow her thoughts would be pulled to him. He consumed far more of her thought process than any client should.

  *

  The District Attorney listened as Calvin Boil, her assistant D.A., reported on what he had learned over at the department. He ran down the evidence against Lilly including her false police reports, which had resulted in the misdemeanor charges, the search warrant and what was recovered, and the suspicions that Maddox had expressed within hearing range of patrol officers.

  “It’s definitely thin,” said Joyce Denison. “However, we can bring in the neighbor’s testimony. With the insurance money not paid up and about to expire I think that will provide enough motive to get an indictment.”

  “But will that buy us a conviction?”

  “With police testimony, I think we can squeeze her. We can introduce her contradictory statements to the police into play. We can also use the interrogation where she declined to answer questions concerning the blood.”

  “She said she didn’t know.”

  “Sure, and what jury will believe that? If the defense wants to refute the police testimony they will have to put her on the stand. Once that happens she will be fair game. If she answers we take her apart, if she refuses the jury can draw their own conclusions.”

  “So what do we do? Wait for the cops to decide to bring her in?”

  “I think we might want to help the ball along. Why don’t you pass the word along to Maddox that if he wants an arrest warrant we are willing to play ball.”

  “All right.”

  “Do it in person so it’s off the record. And secondly make sure we know when they plan to bring her in. I want to have a statement ready. Leak it to the press that there may be an imminent arrest in Alan Chandler’s disappearance.”

  “Nobody knows who Chandler is, or that he’s missing! Does anyone really care?”

  “Make them care!” Joyce snapped. Put together a fact sheet. But be careful you don’t say anything that could prejudice the case against her. This is the only plausible thing I have going and I want to ride it right on into November.”

  “What about the cause of death?”

  “Call it foul play, but imply that it was messy. If it bleeds it leads so make sure the press knows about the blood angle. As for the weapon be vague, say the police are still searching for it.”

  *

  Delaney meanwhile had tracked down Charles Blain’s identity. He returned to “Le Pain de Vivre” and talked to staff that had the previous day off. One girl, whose features just missed being beautiful, recognized his description of Blain. She said he was memorable for his tips and that she had made a play for his attentions.

  “After all” she commented, “I’m not beyond trying to marry up!”

  They ran Blain through the computer and he came up clean. No arrests no warrants. His driving record didn’t have a single violation. When they Googled him, they found his profile which seemed to stress, “rich and successful.”

  Delaney and Lane canvassed Blain’s neighborhood. They asked a fixed set of questions. Had there been any suspicious activity in the area, were there many late night cars, how well did they know their neighbors? If the opportunity presented itself they would talk to staff. At the Blain residence the gardener told them his boss was single but did not have anyone special in his life. They also learned that it was his deceased mother’s house, that he had recently moved to Beaumont, and that he was remodeling. Yes, he had seen the redhead in the Miata, he said. But no, he didn’t know that her husband was missing.

  To Delaney it looked like Lilly was clean. He had no idea what had happened to her husband but he leaned toward the idea that Chandler had simply taken off. As for Blain that was a dead end, theirs was merely a business relationship. He felt Ray had been playing it too hard with Lilly. Maybe he hated redheads. Personally, he thought, Maddox should cut Lilly more slack.

  However, when he voiced his opinions in Mad
dox’s office, he was cut off. Maddox fired back, “you don’t catch a killer by being nice. You catch a killer by making them angry enough to make a mistake or try to kill again.”

  “But we don’t have a body!” said Delaney.

  “We’ve got blood, Mick! Do you think he was donating before he left? If she’s innocent why does she clam up on that subject? Where has the guy been for the last two weeks? I think her looks have turned your head. Would you be so sure of her innocence if she weighed three hundred pounds and was ugly?”

  Delaney was forced to concede the point to Maddox. He did find her attractive and perhaps that was clouding his judgment.

  The phone on Maddox’s desk rang. Other than his name Maddox said nothing. A moment later he hung up. “Let’s go!” he said.

  Maddox was half way down the hall when Delaney caught up.

  “Get the car and bring it around front. I have to pick up something at the courthouse. I’ll see you out front.”

  With that Maddox was down the walk and heading for the Courthouse across the street. Delaney retrieved their car from the lot behind the station and parked it in a red zone out front. Within three minutes Maddox came down the steps of the courthouse with a paper in his hand. As he slipped into the front seat he put the folded paper in his pocket.

  “Where to?” Delaney asked.

  Maddox held up his finger, “One moment.” He took the radio microphone from the dash. “Lane what’s your 10-20?”

  “Saint Mary’s sir”

  “Looks like we’re going to church Mick!”

  The sky was blue but in the distance the mountains were shrouded in clouds. The weather said they were being held in place by a stalled low-pressure ridge. Traffic was light on Sunday morning and soon they were cruising down a broad tree lined avenue, which went past Saint Mary’s. The Catholic Church was built from local stone by diligent Italian masons who had immigrated at the turn of the last century. Catholics had diminished in numbers over the ensuing century but St. Mary’s carried on. Maddox had met the head priest at a neighborhood watch function but he did not recall his name, though he did recall his energy and enthusiasm for promoting the welfare of his parishioners.

  They pulled up to the curb in front of the church. Lane was waiting in an unmarked car across the street. Maddox waved at him and his car pulled away from the curb. As it moved away down the street the slow peel of the church bells came to them from the belfry.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Meeting Lilly Chandler.”

  “At mass?”

  “Why not? They say confession is good for the soul. Maybe she has something she wants to get off her chest.”

  Maddox opened his door and Delaney followed him toward the church doors. As they walked, Maddox glanced up at the stone tower and said over his shoulder, “Ask not for whom the bell tolls.”

  Delaney responded after a moment’s thought, “Doesn’t that quote end with, “it tolls for you?”

  Maddox smiled and leaned against the wall.

  “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

  “Patience Mick, patience. Just watch for Mrs. Chandler.” Maddox was like a spider minding its web.

  The doors swung open and the parishioners flowed out amid Sunday morning chatter. The faint aroma of incense and old wood drifted out the doors with them. The stream of people thinned to a trickle. Maddox nodded his head toward the door and the two of them entered. The nave was dark. The overhead lights were already off. The clerestory windows permitted dim, filtered light. For a minute they waited while their eyes adjusted to the interior. On their left side, the wall was bathed by the glow of votive candles. Above the candles was an icon of the Virgin Mary. Below the Virgin, Lilly Chandler was kneeling.

  Maddox started toward her, but Delaney stopped him by placing his hand on his shoulder.

  “What?”

  “Sshh!” said Delaney, “We’re in a church!” He nodded toward the door.

  Maddox glanced back at Lilly, shrugged and followed Delaney outside. Outside, people still conversed on the pavement. They spoke in hushed tones.

  “You can’t question her in there!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s a church for God’s sake!”

  Ray Maddox smiled at his partner’s choice of words. “This isn’t the Biblical times, we don’t have cities of refuge.”

  While they argued, the parish priest left a group of people and came up the steps of the church. As the priest passed by he nodded and greeted Mick.

  “Morning Father,” Delaney responded, as he disappeared into the nave of the church.

  “I forgot you were Catholic. Is that what this is about? Or do you have a hard on for the Chandler woman?”

  “I just think you’re riding her too hard!”

  Maddox bit his words off hard and sharp. “It’s called pressing the suspect. I’m not out to make her feel warm and comfortable! I’m a cop, not a priest. It’s my job to break her down and get the facts out of her. And I’ll do anything legal to push my advantage.”

  “I don’t think she’s guilty!”

  “We’re not a damn jury Mick, we’re cops! We gather the facts where we can get them. So far this broad has given us precious little help. I don’t know if she whacked her husband or not, but I have a lot of evidence that says she may have.”

  “I don’t buy it!”

  “Well, the District Attorney does!” Maddox abruptly turned on his heel and strode briskly back into the church. Lilly was still in front of the votive candles. Sergeant Maddox removed a warrant from his pocket. She turned around as his footsteps came near.

  “Lilleth Chandler, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Alan Chandler.”

  Lilly looked calmly at him. “I thought this would happen.”

  “Officer Delaney, please read Mrs. Chandler her rights.”

  “I know my rights. I want to speak with my lawyer.”

  Delaney was taken back by this development. For a moment he failed to respond and then fumbled for his Miranda card. He began reading her rights but she interrupted him.

  “I told you I know my rights, now let’s go.”

  “Keep reading, Delaney.”

  Maddox pulled out his handcuffs, “Your wrists please.”

  Lilly put her hands out and Maddox deftly snapped the handcuffs closed. Delaney was about to speak when Maddox firmly said “later, Mick!” It was an order and the Sergeant’s glare silenced Delaney. They started for the door, when Lilly remembered her coat. Delaney walked over to the chair it lay on and picked it up. He then draped it across Lilly’s wrist neatly covering the handcuffs. But Maddox deftly picked it up and handed it back to Delaney. “Take care of the prisoner’s property officer!” Delaney knew he had gone too far.

  They exited the church. A couple dozen people still lingered as Lilly was escorted down the stone steps. A patrol car waited at the curb. It had pulled up while they were inside. Maddox opened the rear door and helped Lilly in, making sure her head did not bang on the jamb above the door. He pushed the door closed firmly. He wanted it to make a sound of finality. Maddox addressed the two officers in the cruiser.

  “Take her in for booking. Afterward let her call her lawyer. We’ll be in later.”

  Then turning he pointed at Delaney, with anger roiling in his eyes, he commanded, “You! Come with me!” Maddox climbed into their unmarked squad car and slammed the door with a violence that was a harbinger of things to come. It was with some trepidation that Delaney followed. He waited as Maddox started the car and pulled smoothly away from the curb. The Sergeant wasn’t one to take his ire out behind the steering wheel. The silence built for three blocks, broken only by the squawk of the radio. Finally, Ray swung the car into an alley behind a boarded up building. He put the car in park and stepped out and slammed the door. As Delaney rose from the car the first volley of words came past his head like a bullet.

  “Do not question my authority ever again!
I am the Sergeant and you had better damn well remember that unless you want to be riding a trike and writing parking tickets!”

  Delaney knew better than to speak. He could only take the lashing and he knew he deserved it. Maddox continued. “You do not assume! You do not make an ass of you and me!” I wanted her to be uncomfortable. You are not her goddamn valet! Not to mention she may have had a weapon in that coat. How would you like to get your big fat head blown off because you’re thinking with your little peckerhead?”

  “I don’t think she…”

  Delaney never had a chance to finish.

  “”We have procedures! You follow the book! More than one cop has gone down because he didn’t think the perp was dangerous.”

  Maddox turned his back on him and strode a short ways off. He had to work to contain his anger. Finally he turned around. “She’s a murder suspect. Let me reiterate, we do not make judgments! But by definition a murder suspect is potentially dangerous; do not ever forget that!” With that Maddox was through with the issue. Delaney knew that his Sergeant would let it go. The incident would never turn up in his personnel file.

  Lilly watched from the back of the patrol car as Beaumont slid past. They turned onto the highway. The police were in no hurry as they cruised past an industrial park. The buildings gave way to a wood, which crowded both sides of the road. Two miles further the patrol car slowed and turned in at a drive. A sign on a flagstone wall read “Parsons County Jail and Sheriff Station.” The drive curved up past a lightly filled parking lot. The building was made of textured cement block. They continued past the building toward the back. They stopped inside a parking lot encircled by a chain link fenced capped by coils of concertina wire. Along one side was a row of Sheriff’s cars. The police helped her out of the car and they headed toward the walk, which led to the back of the building. A small group of people stood nearby and seemed to become quickened by her approach. Lilly was trying to sort out what they wanted when the first flash went off. Cameras began to click. The police picked up the pace. Several voices called out “Did you kill him?” Another was blunter, “Why’d you do it?” Lilly noticed the long lens of a television camera. The reporter holding a microphone called, “Do you have any comment, Mrs. Chandler?” Lilly shook her head no and tried to look unruffled. She held her head high. They mounted three steps to a landing by the door. Changing her mind she turned and looked straight at the reporters. “I am innocent! I did not kill my husband.”