Sydney Valentine Mystery Series: Books 1-3 (Boxed Set) (A Sydney Valentine Mystery)

by Danielle Lenee Davis

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That either you or Bernie would be in touch soon.”

  “Thanks. One of us will give him a call.”

  Bernie put Jake in another room, away from the interrogation areas. Then he went out to the car and brought in the items we’d taken from Sharon’s bedroom and closet. After everything was logged in as evidence, he showed Theresa the IDs we’d found. The items in the boxes and on the laptop would help Theresa close her own case with the Moore house. We logged a few of the IDs and the photo of the teens out of evidence, took individual photos of each, then printed them out. I placed the printed sheets in a folder. I planned to use them while I interrogated Shelly. Everything was logged back in. The laptop went to Computer Forensics.

  I stopped in the breakroom and got two bottles of water—one for me, the other for Shelly. Once Bernie and Theresa settled in the next room to watch on the monitor, I entered the room.

  I set a bottle in front of Shelly. “Sometimes it gets a little warm in here.” And this time would be no exception. I sat on the table a couple of feet from her, one foot on the ground and the other dangling.

  She peered up at me. Her smile twitched, and she looked away, staring at the concrete wall. She picked up the bottle and twisted the lid. Her hand was shaking. Good. Her gaze flicked in my direction. I smiled. I hoped the smile looked happy, not like a cat telling the canary, “I got you.” No sense in sending her scurrying so soon.

  I hopped off the desk, taking my water with me. “Enjoy the water. I’ll be back soon.” It seemed to make some people more nervous when I left them alone, even if they’d done nothing wrong. That’s not the case here, however. I thought she’d done plenty wrong. I went back to my desk to gather my thoughts and read my notes for a few minutes.

  When I peeked into the interrogation room, Shelly had already guzzled half of the water and twisted on the cap. People became jittery when I popped in and out. I waited until she saw me, then I closed the door. Mind games. I went next door to see Bernie.

  “Hey, Bernie. Can you check with the computer techs and ask if they’ve found anything specific related to real estate or identity theft? Maybe some type of leases, purchase agreements, or loan documents?”

  “On it.” He pulled out his phone.

  “Can you also have someone see if the IDs with Shelly’s photo can be matched to the checks we found in Sharon’s closet?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  By the time I went back to join Shelly, she’d started to fidget. I set the folder containing the printed photos I’d taken on the table. I dropped the sheet with a copy of the old photo I’d received from Cindy Carter on the table in front of her. I’d printed it duplex because the girls’ names and date were on the back. She stared at it for a while then crossed and uncrossed her legs as she peeled the label from the bottle, ignoring me, or pretending to.

  “Do you remember when that was taken?” I took up my previous position on the table, with one foot on the floor.

  She gazed at the photo. “Maybe.” She focused on the label and shoved her hair out of her face. Her ears looked as though they were on fire.

  “Who are the other girls?”

  “I don’t remember them.” She picked at her cuticles. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Are you saying you don’t remember their names?”

  “That’s what I’m saying, yes.” She eyed the evidence bag.

  “Hunh. Where was the photo taken?” I scooted a little closer to her.

  “Well, since we’re wearing community college T-shirts and baseball caps, I’d say it was a college baseball game.” She shrugged. “I really couldn’t tell you.”

  “How old were you then?”

  She flipped the sheet over. “Nineteen, I guess.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t remember her.” I pointed to Jennifer.

  “Why?” She peered at me. “Do you remember every picture someone took of you?”

  “I might not remember every picture, but I’d certainly remember my cousin.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I pointed to Sharon Carter. “And her? Do you remember this girl?”

  “I just said that I didn’t. Is this one of the pictures you wanted to show me when you asked me to come down here with you? I guess you’ve wasted your time. And mine.”

  “I also have something else.” I removed another sheet of paper from the envelope and slid it toward her.

  She gasped then pushed her chair away from the table.

  “It looks like I’ve found something you do remember. Finally.” I moved closer to her, invading her space. “Tell me about it.”

  She pointed to the fake driver’s license with her face but with a different name on it. “That’s not mine.”

  “Then how did your face get on it?” I leaned closer to her. “Explain that to me.”

  “I don’t know. I swear.”

  I laughed. I was always amazed when criminals swore they weren’t lying as if that made it true. “I remember when my partner and I were at the house you supposedly rented and you couldn’t find your driver’s license when I asked for identification.”

  “That’s right!” Her eyes brightened. “Someone stole it and made this fake license.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she managed to control herself. “That’s what happened.”

  “Have you been driving around with an expired license?”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that!”

  I picked up the license copy and held it close to her face. “This expired two years ago. Why would someone take your license and make one that’s expired?”

  “My purse was stolen a while ago, too. Someone must’ve found it.”

  “Yeah, maybe that’s it.” I smiled. “Again, why would someone duplicate an expired license?” I got up, circled the table, then leaned on it. “I don’t know… seems pretty stupid to me.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Hey, nobody ever said criminals were smart.”

  “Right. I certainly never said it.” I smiled and eyeballed her until she looked away. I shuffled the sheets in the folder. I had another surprise for her. I dropped the paper on the table.

  Shelly squinted at it then glared at me.

  “When did you become a licensed real estate agent?”

  “I’m not!” She folded her arms in front of her chest and scooted farther from the table, the chair scraping the tile floor. “That’s not mine, either.”

  “Yet, it says Shelly Simon, your maiden name.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s mine.”

  I pulled up a chair right next to hers. “Do you know what I don’t understand?”

  She leaned away. “No. I guess you’re going to tell me, though.”

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t walk away. You saw law enforcement all over the place at the house. Why didn’t you walk away?”

  She sneered. “Why should I? I paid the money for that house and she… he wasn’t returning my calls when I wanted my money back.”

  Someone knocked. I got up and sauntered over to open the door. Theresa was waiting outside. I joined her in the hall and shut the door, leaning against the wall.

  “You’re not going to believe this. Since she’s a teacher, her prints are on file. Rudy matched them to prints on some of the IDs. The other prints belonged to Jane Doe—I mean Sharon Carter.”

  “We’ve got her. I want to get a little more before I wrap it up with her.”

  “So, she and Sharon were involved in this scheme.” She pursed her lips. “The Moore house and who knows how many others?”

  “I think so, but there’s more here.” I pushed myself off the wall. “I’m going back in.” I stepped into the room, and Shelly jumped.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She narrowed her eyes, her elbows on the table. “I really don’t know if I can help you with those IDs.”

  “No?” I got in her face. “Really?
”

  She pushed away from the table and crossed her arms.

  “How do you think I got those IDs?” I grinned.

  She gazed at the ceiling, chewed on her bottom lip, and shifted her gaze to the other side of the room. “I don’t know.” She scowled when she looked at me—thinking, I guessed.

  A little late for that.

  “How do you believe I got them?”

  “I don’t know…” She shook her head.

  “Do you think your friend would give you up to save herself?” I scoffed. “You’d be surprised at what people would do to save their own skin. I’ve got to tell you, it’s shocking.”

  “She’s not my friend. I told you. I don’t even know that girl. She just happened to be standing there when someone took my picture with my cousin.” She’d spoken about Sharon in the present tense.

  “Now, you do know your cousin?” I pushed the photo toward her. “Point her out to me.”

  She glared at me. “You already know which one she is.”

  “Point her out anyway.” I stared her down.

  Her gaze slid to the photo. She jabbed at it, her finger landing on Jennifer.

  “All right.” We were getting somewhere. I smiled. “You know what I think?”

  She rolled her eyes and sneered. She looked like the Grinch before his heart grew three sizes.

  “The tears and worry when you were looking for your lease and driver’s license were really because you were afraid you were caught in your scheme.”

  She gave me another eye roll. Someone knocked on the door, then it opened.

  Theresa waved me out into the hall. I joined her and shut the door behind me.

  “Dr. Moore called again. He found out there’s a deed recorded on their house, and they didn’t know anything about it. He’s pissed,” she said.

  “Can you call him back and tell him I’ll talk to him about it later today?” I glanced at the closed door to the room where Shelly sat. “In the meantime, I’d like you to take the lease documents Shelly gave you and see if you or the techs can find them on that laptop. Now that we know a deed has been filed, look for that or anything that might be related to it.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Theresa hurried down the hall.

  I went back in the interrogation room to get the folder. Although she hadn’t been arrested and hadn’t asked for an attorney, I placed a uniformed officer outside the room Shelly occupied. I gave him instructions to arrest her for identity theft if she tried to leave. She also hadn’t asked about Jake. He was still cooling his heels in another room—I wasn’t worried about him. We hadn’t found any of his prints or his face on the IDs. Shelly had signed the fake lease—not him. I went back to my desk and wrote up a search warrant for Shelly’s car and residence after getting their new address from Jake. I handed it over to a uniformed officer to file then browsed through fingerprint reports and other evidence.

  “Hey, Syd.” Bernie brought over some reports he’d been working on. I told him about the deed on the Moore house. He told me Monica Stewart had called and left a voicemail. She had a meeting planned for the next day with Joan Moore about Vincent’s will. She wanted to know if we had anything new on the investigation of his murder. One of us would return her call later.

  “I think we need to take a run out to see the Moores or have them come here.” I glanced at my watch. “We can go now. Shelly can wait.”

  “Let’s go.” Bernie grabbed the recorder from his desk then headed out the door.

  When we got to our car, Bernie’s phone rang. I waited before opening the door.

  “I’m on my way.” He jogged toward his personal vehicle, shouting over his shoulder, “Khrystal’s in labor!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I leaned against our car, my heart pounding. “I’ll call you later!” Drive carefully, I thought.

  Bernie sped from the lot. If he didn’t kill himself first, the next time I saw him, he would be a new dad. I walked around to the driver’s side and got in. My phone buzzed.

  “Valentine.” It was Dr. Moore. He told me he’d been called away and was on his way to the hospital. We agreed to talk later and disconnected. Since driving to Palm Springs was no longer on the agenda, I figured I might as well call Brad. He picked up right away but sounded out of breath.

  “Hi, Sydney. What’s up?”

  “Just checking in. What are you doing?” I started the car, turned on the air conditioning, and sat there.

  “The reno is done! I’m running around taking pictures so that I can list it. I’ve got you on speakerphone.”

  “That’s great! I’m happy for you!”

  “I’m hoping this sells fast. It’s pretty high end, and I’ve staged it well, I think.”

  “I’d like to see it. Text me a couple of pictures.”

  “You bet! I’ll do it as soon as we get off the phone. Can we get some dinner later?” He’d taken me off speakerphone, and his voice sounded less hollow.

  “I think so. I’ll let you know in an hour or so. Is that okay?”

  “Okay, call or shoot me a text,” he said.

  We said our goodbyes and hung up. My phone vibrated in my hand and I looked at the caller ID. “Hi, Theresa.”

  “Sydney, where are you?”

  “In the parking lot outside the station. Why?” I glanced at my watch.

  “Monica called again. She said she found a business card inside the envelope the will was in. It was stuck in a corner at the bottom.”

  “Whose card is it? Joan’s?”

  “No. Someone named Todd Lancaster. It says he’s the paralegal for Joan’s law practice,” Theresa said.

  “Wait a minute. Monica told us a messenger gave her the envelope.”

  “I guess a messenger still could’ve delivered it. I’d think Joan’s card would be in there instead, or both of their cards—not just his,” Theresa said.

  “Is there an address or anything on the card?” This sounded like something we needed to investigate.

  “No, but I’ve run him through the DMV and have an address for you. It’s not far from here. I couldn’t get through on your phone, so I called Bernie. I thought he was with you. He asked me to send someone to pick up the guy and bring him here. Mr. Lancaster should be here soon, personally escorted by Bryant and Lopez.”

  “I’m on my way.” I disconnected. I called Joan Moore as I walked back inside to my desk.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Moore, this is Detective Valentine. I have some things I’d like to discuss with you before we release your house.”

  “Okay,” she said warily. “When can you be here?”

  “Well, I don’t have time to drive to Palm Springs now. Something has come up and I won’t be able to make it until tomorrow afternoon. If you could come here, we may be able to release your house today.” I strolled through the station, heading to my desk.

  “Well, all right. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “That would be good. I’ll see you soon.” I’d reached my desk by then.

  Theresa gazed up at me from my visitors’ chair, with her feet on my desk, ankles crossed. “Is this Lancaster guy going to be an interview or an interrogation?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I plopped in my chair and put my feet on the desk next to hers. “What do you think?”

  “I think you should see how he is. I bet he knows something. Are wills usually personally delivered by paralegals?”

  I had no idea. “Maybe he did it on Joan’s orders since Vincent was married to her sister. She provided a personal touch.”

  She chewed on her lip. “Hmm. Maybe.” She didn’t seem to have bought that explanation. Neither had I.

  “Joan Moore is coming in. I told her I had some things to discuss with her before we released their house.”

  “And you’re going to ask about the will?”

  I nodded. “That and some other things.”

  I asked if she’d made any progress with Sharon Carter’s lapt
op. She told me she’d found various real estate forms, including purchase and lease agreements, loan documents, and employment verification. She’d matched up some of the names on the forms with the IDs. As expected, both Sharon and Shelly appeared to have been involved.

  Officer Bryant approached my desk. “Mr. Lancaster is in Interrogation C.” She tilted her head in the direction of Interrogation.

  “Thank you,” Theresa and I said.

  “You’re welcome.” Bryant headed back out.

  I pushed away from my desk and put my feet back on the floor. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Theresa slid her feet off my desk and stood. “I’m going to get my notebook. I’ll meet you there.”

  “All right.” I strolled toward Interrogation, turned on the audio-video equipment for Interrogation C, and watched the monitor. Lancaster, a tall, skinny Caucasian, looked to be in his mid-thirties. His pale skin became redder as he paced the room, mumbling to himself. He wore gray slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A clip-on tie hung from his shirt pocket, and sweat stained the armpits of his shirt. He glanced at the door and ran his hands through his dark hair. He occasionally swiped the back of his hand across his face then wiped his hand on his slacks.

  Theresa came toward me then stopped to watch the monitor. “The man’s nervous—or scared. I wonder why?”

  I turned to her and smiled. “Let’s find out.” I opened the door.

  “This should be good.” Theresa followed me into the room.

  Lancaster scrambled for a seat as if the music had just stopped in the game musical chairs.

  I circled the table, faced him, then took a seat on the table. Theresa leaned against the wall behind him, arms folded in front of her chest, feet crossed at the ankles. His eyes wide, Lancaster looked from her to me. Sweat ran from his hairline to his chin and dripped onto the table.

  “Hello, Mr. Lancaster. I’m Detective Valentine, and that’s Detective Sinclair behind you.”

  He turned to face Theresa, and she stared at him, motionless. He flicked a glance my way. “What… what’s this about?”

  “We’d just like to ask you a few simple questions. It won’t take long. Do you mind?” I gave him what I thought was a reassuring smile.