by Nancy Warren
“She threatened to hitchhike if I wouldn’t bring her,” Linda said.
“Hitchhike?” Had she taught her daughter nothing?
Tiffany fiddled with one of her silver rings. “The bus would have been too slow.”
“I got us a cab,” Linda said. “I figured if I came with her it would be better.”
Toni had a choice. She could read her daughter a lecture or she could accept that the poor kid was worried sick about her father. She shuffled over a couple of seats to where the drug-dealer’s mother had been sitting. “I’m really glad to have the company.” She put a hand on Tiffany’s and gave it a squeeze. To her surprise, her daughter squeezed back.
When Dwayne was called, he came out looking pale and shorter, somehow, as though being accused of murder had shrunk him. The navy blue jumpsuit hung on him. He glanced around, looking apprehensive, and when he spotted the three of them gave his best attempt at his usual cocky grin. She thought he’d have waved if he hadn’t been handcuffed.
He was a no-good, morally corrupt man in so many ways, but Toni still couldn’t believe he was a murderer.
The prosecutor, however, didn’t seem to share her belief. The case was read out briefly, and the prosecutor wanted bail set at half a million dollars.
The defense attorney, who had briefly conferred with her client, said, “My client has family in the area and no reason or opportunity to flee. He does not have the financial resources to raise five hundred thousand dollars. We request a fifty-thousand-dollar bail, your honor.”
The judge glared first at the lawyer and then at Dwayne, then snapped, “Bail is set at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
He glanced back at Toni once more as he was escorted by two courtroom deputies to a side door in the courtroom. She knew from chatting to the drug dealer’s mother that the door led to underground access back to the jail. After Dwayne was gone, they called the next case and Toni and her mother and daughter walked out into the hall.
“A quarter of a million dollars?” Linda said. “Where’s he going to get that kind of money? He’d have to borrow fifty cents if he wanted to make a phone call.”
“He can’t raise it. He’ll have to wait in jail for his trial.” She was sorry for him, but not sorry enough to try and raise that kind of money for bail. Luke had said he’d try and get her an interview with Dwayne as soon as the bail hearing was over. She led them toward the exit so she could turn her cell phone back on.
“Wait,” Tiffany said. “I’ll put up the money I have in the bank from babysitting and birthdays and Christmas.” She shot a pleading glance at Toni. “And I want to put up my college fund.” Even as her mother opened her mouth, she said, “I keep telling you I don’t want to go to college. Besides, it’s like insurance. When he gets to trial without running away, we get out money back.”
“You can’t risk your college fund, sweetie.”
“I’ll put up my house,” Linda said.
Toni and Tiffany both stared at her.
“I know, I like Dwayne about as much as I’d like a boa constrictor to climb into bed with me, but he is Tiffany’s father and — well, that’s all.”
Toni shuffled her free makeover cards as though she were getting ready for a hand of poker. Her mother’s mobile home wasn’t worth anything like a quarter million. She thought of all the hours she’d worked her tail off to buy a house so Tiffany would grow up with a stable home.
Her daughter was looking at her with pleading eyes. She drew in a breath, let it out again. “I’ll put up my house as collateral.” And, she thought, if Dwayne let her down again she’d be the next one standing trial for a murder. His.
Tiffany hugged her. She hugged back.
“I’m going to have to go and fill out paperwork and so on, for the bond. Why don’t you two go shopping? There are great outlet malls near here. We can meet up later.”
The two seemed relieved to be heading out of this depressing place and who could blame them? She’d like to be out of here herself. But first, she had to put the home she’d worked so hard for in jeopardy for a man who didn’t deserve any help. Then, she was really hoping she could see him. Not because she wanted to be up close and personal with Dwayne Dipshit Diamond, but because she had some very pointed questions to ask him.
Two hours later, Toni sat across from her ex-husband in an airless room with bars on the windows. She was in the visitors’ facility in the jail. Not somewhere she’d ever imagined herself.
Apart from seeing him perform at the club and have him try to wheedle money out of her in the parking lot, she hadn’t seen Dwayne in more than fifteen years. She realized how far she’d come from the young girl who’d been fooled by his good looks and smooth-talking lies.
She was a different woman now, but she quickly realized he was the very same man. Still thinking that good looks and smarmy charm could get him anywhere.
“Honey,” he said, his tired face lighting in a big grin when she walked into the interview room. “I knew I could count on you. I knew my smart, successful wife would get me out of this jam.”
“I’m not your wife anymore, Dwayne.” He always smelled so good, like sex and Stetson cologne. But now he smelled stale.
“But neither of us have ever married again. That has to count for something, right?”
If she hadn’t heard the edge of desperation in his voice she would have let him have it, but she could tell he was terrified. And with good reason.
A quick glance showed her where the surveillance cameras were, one pointing at her, one at Dwayne. She knew from Luke that there was also audio surveillance. She pulled out her notebook and pen.
“Cut the crap, Dwayne.” Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. “Tell me everything and it had better be the truth.”
He sat across from her looking a little lost without his usual props, his tight jeans and cowboy shirts, his big hats and the show-offy boots. The navy jumpsuit and handcuffs was not a good look on him.
“I didn’t kill Grant. I swear to God.”
“Then why do the cops think you did?”
She clicked open her pen. Not that she really intended to take notes but she thought it would make Dwayne more businesslike if she was, too.
He dropped his gaze to the scarred table top and shifted as though he wanted to use his hands and couldn’t. The gesture made him look so unsure of himself that in spite of herself she softened. This was Tiffany’s father, after all. She gentled her tone. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything.”
He glanced up, hopeful, eager. “You don’t think I killed a man do you?”
“It looked to me like you have a good lawyer who will do everything she can to help you.”
He scowled. “She said she was hiring a defense investigator. But he’s tied up working another murder case that’s in trial right now. He won’t be able to work on my case for at least a month.” He looked amazed that any case could be more urgent than his. “You’ve gotta help me.”
“I am prepared to listen to your story. I don’t believe the man I once loved would be capable of murder, but then I didn’t think he’d dump me with a baby and leave town, either.”
He blew out a breath. “They took my fingerprints and mug shots. Treated me like a damned criminal.”
“You were caught on a surveillance camera leaving Grant Forstman’s office right around the time of his murder. No one else went in or out until he was found dead the next morning right in that office.” She kept her voice low and after a quick glance at the cameras he did the same.
“He was alive when I left him. You have to believe me!” He looked terrified, desperate, but also truthful. Toni’d heard so many of his lies that she was pretty good at reading him. “You posted bail. Why aren’t I getting out?”
“It has to be processed. They’re putting a lien on my house. I don’t think you’re going anywhere for a couple more days.”
He sank down like a man-shaped balloon with some of the air se
eping out.
“You and Grand Forstman argued the day before he was killed and his hired muscle beat you up. Then you have a cozy meeting in his office? What am I missing?”
“I borrowed some money from Grant,” he murmured at last.
She was so startled she dropped her notebook to the table. “The guy I saw at the casino did not look like a man who lends money without some hefty collateral.”
Dwayne fidgeted on the hard chair. “He didn’t exactly know I borrowed it.”
“You stole money from a gangster?”
“No! I told you, I borrowed it.”
“How did you come to borrow it?”
He flicked a glance at her face and down again. “This deal was a no-brainer. I went to Forstman for a loan and he turned me down flat. So I borrowed the money. Figured I’d pay it back as soon as I could.”
“But he found out.”
He nodded, swallowing hard.
“And you went to see him because?”
“He said he wanted to see me after the show. The guy was my boss, what could I do? So I went up there.”
“And?”
“He wasn’t happy but he’s a businessman. He said I had exactly three days to return the money. With hefty interest.”
“What did you say?”
He looked at her as though that was a really dumbass question. “I told him I’d get it, of course.”
“And where were you going to get the money?”
His gaze dropped. “I had some leads.”
“Like trying to extort money from me using my daughter as collateral.”
“She’s our daughter. And can’t a man get to know his little girl without his ex-wife making a federal case out of it?” But his words sounded so weak she didn’t bother arguing.
“Speaking of federal cases, you are charged with murder. Let’s get back to the details of your meeting with Grant Forstman.”
“I told him I’d have the money back in three days. End of story.”
“How much money are we talking?”
“Thirty grand.”
Thirty thousand dollars was definitely enough money to beat a guy up over. But was it enough to kill for? “What did you need the money for?”
“A business proposition. I told you. Can’t lose. But the capital’s invested right now. That’s why I was hoping you’d be my investor instead of him.” He cracked a weak grin. “You’re a whole lot better lookin’ than Grant.”
She leveled her gaze on him. “And that was the extent of your meeting?”
“Yes. We even smoked a cigar together.” His gaze dropped to the notebook she had out on the table. And then she got it. Forstman had all but pushed Dwayne into smoking a cigar, knowing how much her ex-husband hated smoking. He was making the point that he pretty much owned Dwayne.
“So, you smoked a cigar together and you walked out of there?”
“Sure. He was real clear. I had three days and if he didn’t get the money, something bad would happen to me.”
“Worse than your car getting cracked up and you getting beat up?”
He nodded, still not looking up. “He said that was a warning.”
“What happened to the guy who beat you up?”
“He patted me down when I got to the office. I was clean and Grant told him to go home. His partner was sick, and he looked kind of green. Grant has a thing about getting sick.” He gulped. “Had a thing about getting sick.”
“How long was your meeting?”
“Not long. He made me wait before he could see me. We were together maybe fifteen, twenty minutes?”
“And when you left, he was fine.”
“Yeah. I told you.”
“What was he doing?”
“Huh?”
“When you left, what was he doing? Packing up to go home? Sitting behind his desk? Picking up the phone? What?”
“Oh. I get you.” He turned to look out the window, saw bars and jerked his head back again so he was looking at her once more. “He was sitting behind his desk. I walked out and I think I heard the phone ringing.”
“You think the phone was ringing?”
“Yeah.”
“Dwayne, this is really important. If you didn’t kill Grant then the person on the phone could have been the killer.”
“Oh, right. I never thought of that.”
That’s because you think with your dick. He closed his eyes and she gave him time.
“Yeah, the phone was definitely ringing.”
“Did you hear him say anything?”
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey, baby? You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Dwayne D. Diamond, if you are making this up in a feeble attempt to get out of a murder charge, I have to tell you that wasting my time will do the opposite.”
“No. I mean, I really did hear him say ‘Hey Baby,’ I didn’t think of it till now, is all.”
“Who was the hey baby in his life?”
“His wife, I guess.”
“Loretta?”
“Yeah. Loretta.”
A beat passed. The air smelled stale and in a corner a fly was buzzing.
“How did you borrow the money?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do not play dumb with me. I’m guessing he doesn’t keep thirty grand lying around on his desk.”
She could tell he was about to lie and then even he must have realized that telling her the truth was his only hope of getting out of a murder charge. He slumped a little. “I took it from his safe.”
“And how did you get into the safe?”
“I had the password.”
“Grant Forstman gave you the combination to his safe?”
“No. I, ah, I found it.” He looked to the door as though someone would come rescue him from this conversation. It didn’t happen.
“Where did you find the combination to his safe?”
“I need some water. My throat’s dry.” He glanced at the door once more. “Do you think you could get me some water?”
“Where did you find the combination to his safe?” She resisted yelling dumbass in his face, but only barely.
“People are so careless with those things. It was written down on a paper in his wallet. He left his wallet at the club one night. I copied down the number. He never knew anything about it.”
She let a beat pass.
“Who do you think killed him?”
He shifted on the hard chair, like he ought to have a guitar in his hand and without it he didn’t know how to sit still. “What?”
“If you didn’t kill Grant Forstman, who do you think did?”
“How do I know? A man like that has enemies. He’s rich, doesn’t always treat people real good, I don’t know.”
She rose, thinking she had everything she was going to get out of Dwayne. “Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
“When do I get out of here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Toni,” he said, desperation in every note. “I’m too good lookin’ to go to jail.”
Chapter Eleven
“Half a truth is often a great lie.”
— Benjamin Franklin
The sun felt warm when she left the jail. She sat down on a bench, her head spinning. Visiting your ex husband in jail will do that to a girl, she decided. A few couples wandered by headed for the marriage bureau at the courthouse in the same downtown complex. And good luck to them. She needed a few minutes to collect her thoughts and go over everything Dwayne had told her. One big whopper lie stuck out like the nose on her own face, but otherwise, she felt Dwayne had told her the truth.
She did not believe he’d killed Grant Forstman.
He’d also not been able to shed any light on who had killed the casino owner.
She scribbled a few notes in her notebook. It was the kind of thing she sometimes did when she was searching for new ways to market Lady Bianca cosmetics. Think outside the box, she was always telling her girls
.
This was a perfect example of a time to use that strategy. Dwayne had jammed himself into quite a box, but if he was innocent, then the real killer was out there and she had to look all the way outside that box to find out who it was.
She wrote the word Sex on a blank page and put two vertical lines through the S to make a dollar sign. Everything kept coming back to sex and money.
She retrieved her car and drove slowly back to Brent’s place, where she’d agreed to meet up with her mom and her daughter so Tiffany could pick up some more of her clothes. She’d refused to pack everything, as though by leaving traces of herself in the house where he lived, she was somehow supporting her dad.
When Toni got there, only Brent was home.
“How did it go?” he asked.
She made a face. “About as well as can be expected when you’re trying to get your cheating ex out of a murder charge.”
“Want some tea? I was just going to make some.”
“Tea would be wonderful.”
They sat at the kitchen table and she asked the question that had plagued her since she left the jail. “I wonder who gets Grant Forstman’s money?”
Brent poured boiling water over tea bags in a teapot decorated like The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. He opened the fridge and pulled out milk, which he poured into a matching jug. The sugar pot was already on the table. “What do you mean?”
“If Dwayne didn’t kill the man, and I don’t think he did, then I have to figure out who did. Follow the money, honey.”
He poured tea for both of them, then sat down slowly. “I’m not sure there is a lot of money.”
She tapped the table top with her nails and caught the glitter of a fake diamond. “Like you said, Vegas is all about selling illusions. To the outside world he was a rich casino owner who would have been worth a fortune.”
She sipped her tea, glad of its simple comfort.
“But he wasn’t,” Brent said. “And he was in big to some bad guys.”
“I know. I mentioned that to my—” She never knew what to call Luke. “My friend who’s a cop back home. He said the LVPD are looking into it. But, I don’t see what Russian mobsters would gain by killing him.” She thought about how Grant Forstman had roughed up Dwayne and threatened him to get his money back. She pretty much thought big-time thugs would act the same with Forstman, only on a larger scale.
