Strand of Deception

by Robin Caroll

  Probably another dead end.

  “We have an appointment this afternoon with Professor Emmel to verify Cynthia Mantle’s arrival time on Friday.”

  “Good.” He had to figure out something. The mayor and governor were tag teaming him with calls, wanting updates. What they wanted was an arrest and conviction. Anything to shut up the senator.

  Timmons hovered at the door.

  “Anything else?” Please.

  “Maybe nothing . . .” Timmons stepped inside, holding a file. “You asked me to look into everyone close to Gina, especially their whereabouts during the window for time of death, see if they had an alibi.”

  Nick nodded.

  “Well, Senator Ford’s alibi can’t be confirmed.”

  Nick dropped his feet to the floor with a plunk and jerked upright. “What?”

  “The senator said he’d been on a business call from eight until nine, then he changed into his workout clothes in his bedroom before going downstairs to his home gym where he waited for Gina to call.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, we’ve pulled the phone records from the house and his cell phone. There are no calls on either during eight to nine that morning.” Timmons shrugged. “I’m sure it’s probably nothing, I mean, it’s his daughter, but you asked me to let you know of anything I couldn’t confirm.”

  Nick stood. “Not much else I can do at the moment anyway. Let’s go talk with the senator.” He grabbed his coat from the rack in the corner. “Besides, let’s make sure he sees how thorough we’re handling this investigation. How we leave no stone unturned.”

  Maybe he could explain to the public why his alibi couldn’t be verified. He sure liked to talk smack about how the wheels of justice moved slowly. Let’s see how he felt about that wheel when it was running over him.

  He and Timmons braved the cold as they crossed the lot to Nick’s car. Unverified alibis usually meant secrets that had some bearing on the case.

  “You don’t really think he had anything to do with his daughter’s murder, do you?” Timmons asked.

  “No. But I’ve been wrong before.” Nick steered in the direction of the senator’s manor. “Remember several years ago that congressman who hired someone to beat up his own homosexual son so he could claim it was a hate crime and gain the gay votes in his upcoming election?”

  “I do. That’s sick to hurt your own kid.” Darren’s daughter had a heart condition that had already caused at least four operations with a couple more scheduled.

  “Yep, but there are some seriously warped people in the world today. I never thought political motivation would cause someone to hurt his own kid, but the congressman did. Oh, and remember that senator from some state up north a couple of years ago? He hired someone to attack his wife so he could push for more stringent sexual-assault laws, only his wife had fought back and ended up being killed.” Nick shook his head. “I’ve learned not to let people’s motivations surprise me.”

  “I think you’ve been at the job too long, Boss.” Timmons cut his gaze to Nick. “If you don’t mind my saying.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’ve become quite cynical the last few years. At least that I’ve seen.”

  Had he? “I don’t think so, Timmons. I think you’re just the target of my brilliant commentary and slapstick humor since Rafe moved.”

  Timmons laughed. “Slapstick humor? You are the most humorless man I know.”

  “I’m real funny.”

  “No you aren’t.”

  “Really?” Nick thought he could be quite amusing at times.

  “No, you’re actually too serious. Scares the ladies off.”

  Nick exited off the highway. “Now I know you’re crazy. I have no problems with keeping the ladies around.”

  “What about Maddie?”

  Nick tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

  “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” Timmons stared out the passenger window.

  “You’re right. It’s not.” He hadn’t tried to call her back after she’d hung up on him yesterday. It stung that she’d questioned his work ethics. More than he imagined it would, not that he’d ever considered she’d question him like that.

  The rest of the ride to the senator’s was made in silence. Maybe Timmons was right and he had become cynical. Then again, maybe the whole world had just gone crazy and he was the only sane one left.

  Nick and Timmons had barely reached the stairs when Senator Ford threw open the door. “Do you have news? Has an arrest been made?”

  Nick hesitated. The man hadn’t asked who was responsible for his daughter’s death, had instead focused on an arrest. “May we speak to you in private, Senator?”

  Ford showed them inside, back into the study. Mrs. Ford sat in the hard, high-back chair. Normally a beautiful woman, her eyes were puffy and red.

  Nick ached for the pain that was obvious in every smooth curve of her face. “Mrs. Ford.” He nodded as he sat across from her on the sofa. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice came out louder and much stronger than he’d expected.

  The senator moved to stand behind her, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. “What news do you have for us?”

  Well, he had asked to speak privately. The senator had brought them to the room with his wife, so Nick could only assume it was permissible to speak openly in front of her. “As we continue to confirm every aspect of the case, we’ve come across an alibi for the time of death we can’t verify.”

  The senator spread his hands out at his sides. “How may I help you, Agents? Whose alibi can’t you substantiate?”

  “Yours. Sir.”

  Ford’s expression slipped—just for a fraction of a minute, but it slipped. Nick had watched for it. Saw it. Recognized it.

  Senator Ford had a secret. One he wasn’t prepared to share.

  “I was in my home gym, waiting on Gina’s call.”

  “I meant before then.” Nick waited, watching the senator’s face tighten.

  Ford gripped the back of the chair. “As I told Agent Timmons here, I was on a business call from eight o’clock until almost nine.”

  “That’s the problem, Senator.” Nick leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands dangle in front of him. “We can’t find a record of any call during that time. Not from your house phone or your cell.”

  Mrs. Ford blinked, the only indication she was even paying attention to the conversation.

  “That’s ridiculous. Of course I was on a call.”

  Nick sat back. “Then we’ll just need the name and contact information of who you were talking with. When that person corroborates the day, time, and length of conversation, we can close this part of our investigation.”

  Ford stiffened, his shoulders pulling back. Nick recognized the changing of strategy, moving away from the defensive and pushing forward offensively. SEC football teams were famous for it. He patted his wife’s shoulder. “Honey, why don’t you go lie down? It’s time for your medication.”

  With the elegance of a woman raised with social graces, Mrs. Ford stood. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Nick stood as well, nodding at her before she moved past him and into the hall, shutting the door behind her.

  Ford took the moment to pounce on the attack. “What kind of questions are these? This is my daughter’s murder we’re talking about. Why are you here asking unimportant questions instead of out there finding out who killed my daughter?” The transition was so smooth, like a well-practiced offensive play.

  “Sir, to do our jobs effectively, we must treat every person in the case the same, no matter his relationship to the victim.” Time to rough the kicker, just a bit. Nick sat back down on the sofa beside T
immons. “Do you realize how many people fall victim to members of their immediate family?”

  Ford’s eyes narrowed as he took the seat his wife had just vacated. “Are you accusing me of something, Agent Hagar?”

  “Not at all. I’m just trying to verify your alibi so we can move on and concentrate on other leads in the case.” Nick crossed his legs at the ankles, stretching his legs out in front of him. “So, who were you talking to between eight and nine on Friday morning, Senator?”

  “Okay, what’s wrong?” Eva wadded up her napkin and set it inside the cardboard carton bearing the logo of the closest Chinese takeout. “You’ve been moping around all morning like someone kicked your puppy.” She pointed chopsticks at her. “And don’t start in on getting a dog again either because that’s just crazy.”

  “Just the weather getting me down.” Maddie hadn’t heard from Nick since her call yesterday. She’d hung up after apologizing, and he hadn’t bothered to call her back. That hurt her more than she cared to admit. “But don’t you step on my blue suede shoes.”

  Had he felt like that when she never called him after getting back from visiting with Riley? If so, she was triply sorry, if there was such a thing. “You can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes.”

  Eva leaned back in her chair in the break room and studied Maddie. “Don’t try to con a con, sweetie. You’ve always said you love cuddling up with a good book when it’s dark and gloomy out. You told me it’s the perfect time to read a murder mystery.”

  She leaned forward, her hair curling around her face, and laid her palms-to-elbows flat against the lunch table. “So I have to ask again, number one, what’s wrong with you? And number two, why are you lying to me about it?”

  If Maddie didn’t share, it’d bottle up inside her and drive her insane. It was already breaking her concentration. “He hasn’t called me back.”

  “Nick?”

  Maddie rolled her eyes and stabbed her chopsticks into the empty carton. “Of course, Nick. Who else?”

  “I’m not following. You called him yesterday with the results of our report, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And . . .” Eva tossed her hands into the air. “I’m guessing he was supposed to call you back last night and didn’t?”

  “No.” She should’ve kept her mouth shut. Now she’d have to explain about hanging up on him. “When I called him with the results, I thought about what you said.”

  “Me? What’d I say?”

  “About Nick inadvertently slipping a detail of the case in front of the senator.”

  “Oh. That.” Eva had the decency to blush. “I was talking out of my head. Nick wouldn’t do that. He’s too much of the professional. Has too much experience to slip up like that.”

  “Yeah, I know. Only thing is, I should’ve known it yesterday before I mentioned it to him.”

  “You did not.” Eva’s eyes were wide.

  “Oh, but I did.”

  “And he got offended?”

  Maddie rolled her eyes again before shoving their cartons into the trash. “What do you think, Eva? Of course he took offense.”

  “Uh-oh. What’d he say?”

  She leaned back against the table, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. “That he thought I knew him better. That I shouldn’t have had to ask.”

  “Ouch.” Eva reached out and squeezed Maddie’s arm.

  “I apologized. He didn’t readily accept, so I apologized again and hung up.”

  “You hung up on him?”

  “Yeah.” Her chest hurt. “And he hasn’t called back.”

  Eva stood and put her arm around Maddie’s shoulders. “Oh, honey, he will. It’s that male ego thing. You wounded his pride so he’s punishing you by not calling. It’ll be okay.” She patted Maddie’s back.

  “I don’t know, Eva. He sounded really hurt.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t be. I mean, yeah, for a second, but then he should consider you’re only protecting the case.” Eva popped her fists onto her hips. “Matter-of-fact, he should really respect you for showing such integrity and professionalism.”

  “Eva.” Maddie shook her head.

  “No, I’m serious. It’s not like you two have been dating for months. Not even weeks. You just had your second date, for pity’s sake. How could you really know what he would or wouldn’t do?”

  “You just said you were positive he wouldn’t do such a thing, and you’ve never gone out with him. Now you’re telling me that since we’ve only gone out twice, there’s no way for me to know he wouldn’t slip up.” She knew her friend was only trying to make her feel better, but Maddie felt lousy and Eva telling her it was okay wasn’t going to make her feel any better about it.

  “Okay, so why was he so offended? Did you hit a nerve, perhaps?”

  “No. He sounded hurt, then angry. Like I’d disappointed him.” She felt like such a heel. Her wad of emotions urged her to call him and apologize yet again.

  She just didn’t think he’d listen. Again.

  “I still think he’ll get over it and call you.” Eva smiled.

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Well. Then I guess he isn’t the man we thought he was.”

  Or she’d offended him so deeply that he didn’t want anything more to do with her. Why had she let herself like him? She hadn’t been able not to notice the care he took in his work. The way he treated people with respect. The way he didn’t play games like other guys. Why had she noticed all the little things about him that made him cancel out every other man around?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I don’t know anything about music.

  In my line you don’t have to.”

  Elvis Presley

  “Work schedule from Ward’s satellite dish company for Friday came in.” Timmons leaned against the open door of Nick’s office, waving a paper.

  They’s returned to the office after Ford had given them all the information he could for his alibi. Now they could only follow up, and the day seemed to drag on.

  If only he could get a break on the case. “And?”

  “Installer’s time card reflects he arrived at the Ward residence at 8:11. He signed out on that job at 12:18.”

  “Did Ward sign the order?”

  Timmons nodded. “But that’s at the time of completion. I asked if the installer could verify who let him into the house, Mr. or Mrs. Ward.” He shook his head before Nick could ask. “We have to ask the installer, who is out on calls until five. Guess what I’m doing on my way home today?”

  “Thanks, Timmons. We really need some kind of break here.”

  “We still can’t get in touch with Mr. Whitlow.”

  “Let me guess, the international investor is still unavailable?” As he had been since eight o’clock this morning.

  “You guessed it. So, unfortunately, we can’t verify or disprove Senator Ford’s alibi at this time.”

  “Color me shocked.” Nick leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the bottom desk drawer he kept open for this purpose. “Keep on it. Matter-of-fact, hand it off to Agent Martin to keep trying tonight. Since we’re in a different zone, maybe he’ll get in touch with Whitlow.”

  “Yes, sir. Have we heard anything from CODIS yet?”

  Nick shook his head. “Agent Zanca from the Knoxville office is practically sitting on the Nashville’s CODIS operator’s shoulder to rush. I’ve been assured it’s going as fast as humanly possible.” He ran a hand over his hair. He needed a haircut. Like he had time?

  “I hope it’s fast enough for us.”

  “Me too.” Nick took note of the time. “You ready to head to the university?”

  “Waiting on you.”

  They arrived at the University of Memphis and parked n
ear the building where Professor Emmel taught the creative writing class. The late afternoon, overcast and cold, seeped over the campus. Both Nick and Timmons huddled into their coats as they made their way to the professor’s classroom.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I assume you’re the FBI agents who made the appointment and requested to meet in my classroom?” Professor Emmel had a ready smile as he stood to greet them. “Come in, sit down.” Two comfortable chairs sat facing the lectern at the front of the room. Emmel motioned Nick and Timmons to sit.

  It was easy to understand why his classes were full each semester. Again, Timmons had turned in a very detailed report, so Nick knew about Professor Rick Emmel. Forty-nine, in a long-term relationship with one Dawn Salister, no children. They shared a home close to the university. Dawn was an artist, a painter. She’d had a couple of shows, not all that successful. Meanwhile, the professor was popular with his students because of his ease of teaching and making learning fun. He had a stellar reputation, both professionally and in his personal life.

  “Now, how may I assist you?”

  “It’s about your Friday creative writing class.”

  “Yes?”

  Nick leaned forward in his chair. “Cynthia Mantle.”

  “She’s a student. One of the better ones, actually. Although I believe she has promise, I don’t see her passionate about writing.” The professor rubbed his shaved chin. “Pity, because if she applied herself, she has the talent to become published.”

  Interesting. Nick picked imaginary lint from his pants. “Professor, was Ms. Mantle in your class this past Friday?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I recall she was here. At the close of class, she assisted me in collecting homework assignments.”

  Just like she’d said. “Your class is from eight thirty until ten fifteen, correct?”

  Emmel nodded. “Every Friday.”

  “Do you know Gina Ford?” Nick asked.

  “She’s not in my class, but I know who she is. I’ve seen her with Ms. Mantle in the hall.”