“If that’s full of folk punk,” Kado said with a glance at Bret’s phone, “you’re required to borrow them.”
THE ALIBI
WE SWEPT INTO THE Chinese restaurant with a gorgeous silk trouser set for Cass and three minutes to spare. We took a remote table in a corner near a window and I ordered egg rolls as an appetizer. “I’m starving. All I had was a donut at the agency this morning.”
Cass lifted the garment bag to finger the silk of her new outfit and then peered warily at the food on the other tables. “It looks better than the all-you-can-eat buffet in Arcadia.”
“It’s a different world.”
Cass’s phone buzzed and she took a call from Mitch. My listening abilities were impaired by hunger, and I asked her for a summary when she hung up.
“Kado finished with the gun the guys tossed in the river.”
It took a moment, but I remembered something shiny arcing towards the river after Sugar Murphy and Big Billy Garcia ran from the stolen truck. “And?”
“It’s clean. He found Murphy’s prints on the cartridges, but the gun isn’t in any databases.”
“What does that mean?”
“It hasn’t been used in a crime, or at least it hasn’t been reported as used in a crime.”
“Then why toss a perfectly good gun?”
She shrugged. “Maybe they panicked. Mitch said Truman cracked Bret’s phone. There are loads of women’s names, some of them the ex-wives we know about. Bret’s been in contact with most of them recently.”
“Why?”
“No idea. Truman’s listening to all the music files on the phone now. Poor guy.”
We’d polished off the egg rolls when Nicole arrived twenty minutes later with a paunchy little man in tow. She slid into the booth and waved the waiter away, making me glad we’d scarfed the egg rolls. Her eyes were red-rimmed but she’d touched up her face.
“This is my attorney, Ned Shaver. He’s advised me to talk to you.” Her expression was sheer outrage, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. She’d just found out her husband was not only dead, had not only cheated, but was married to another woman.
Shaver sat higher in the booth and looked at Cass. “I’ve seen the coverage of your most recent,” he paused, “escapades. You’re still on medical leave, Detective Elliot. Why are you here?”
“The lead detective on the case, Mitch Stone, is my partner. He knows Lost and Found Investigations has been retained to look into Mr. Ivey’s murder. Since Maxine was coming to see Nicole today, he asked if I could join her to limit our impact on Nicole’s time.”
He seemed satisfied with that. “I spoke to Detective Stone when I called to verify your identity. He’s arrested someone for the murder, and claims this woman is married to Mr. Ivy.”
“She is,” I said. “She had no knowledge her husband was married to another woman.”
“Are you calling my husband a polygamist?” Nicole asked. Two bright spots rose on her cheeks. “That’s an attack on his character and I will not tolerate it.”
I could’ve played the sympathetic friend, but decided to go on the attack. There was an edge to Nicole I didn’t like, an air intimating that she lived on a higher plane than the rest of we mere mortals. “I’m not attacking anyone. I’m telling you that a woman named Blue Ivey is married to a man named Baxter Bretton Ivey who looks remarkably like your husband.”
“How do you know what my husband looks like?” she snapped.
“Besides your reaction to his photo earlier, there’s this.” I pulled out my phone and showed her a photo from the mall on Saturday.
Her jaw dropped. “That’s where I’ve seen you before. You and another girl followed us through the mall. You’re a stalker.”
It seemed our earlier meeting had been lost to shock. “No, ma’am. I’m a private detective hired by -” I started to say ‘Mrs. Ivey’ but stopped myself. This conversation was already confusing. “Blue Ivey to find her husband. Who also happens to be your husband. I found him by analyzing the business and personal credit card statements he shared with Blue.”
That stumped her, so I kept talking.
“Forney County records support Blue’s belief that she is married to a man she calls Bret, who is the same man you call Baxter. Bret was spending quite a bit of time away from home, she thought he might be cheating, and she hired me to find out if he was.”
“That husband stealing bitch. Blue. Her name is Blue?” She snatched up her phone and pecked at the keyboard.
Cass reached across the table and took the phone. Nicole’s face contracted into a ball of fury.
“That’s illegal search and seizure. I’ll have your badge for that,” Shaver blurted.
“No,” Cass said. “It’s common courtesy to stay off your phone while you’re having a face-to-face conversation. Nicole’s phone hasn’t been seized, and it certainly hasn’t been searched.” Cass lifted an eyebrow at Shaver, and when he backed down she looked at Nicole. “Mrs. Ivy, you can consider how to react to your husband’s infidelity later. Right now, we need to ask some questions. We have information to share with you as well, but first, we need to know about your husband. You told us earlier you last saw him on Saturday. What time on Saturday?”
Shaver waved a hand. “We’re not going there. You have the murderer in custody. You don’t need anything from my client.”
“You want to talk to us, Mr. Shaver,” Cass answered coolly. “Nicole and her firm handle people with high public profiles, famous actors and actresses, singers, that type of person?”
He nodded warily.
“Mr. Ivy’s history with women is complicated. It’s in Nicole’s interests that we share what we know so she can decide how best to protect her reputation and that of the law firm.”
Shaver considered this. “What do you have?”
“It doesn’t work that way, Mr. Shaver. She gives us what we need, and we share what we can.”
Shaver had been put in his place several times by Cass and didn’t seem to mind. I wondered what his home life was like.
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
“When was the last time you saw your husband?” Cass asked. She was in super-detective mode and I was happy to watch and learn. I opened a note pad.
“Saturday afternoon,” Nicole answered. Anger, fear, and grief played over her face in turn. “We’d both returned from trips early Saturday morning. We dropped our bags at home and then went to Northpark to have breakfast and shop, like we always do.” She glanced at me again, but carried on speaking. “When we got back home we discovered the house had been broken into. My husband’s instruments were smashed to bits and our papers had been searched. We called the police, they came out and questioned us and when they were done, my husband left. He had a client appointment he couldn’t miss.”
“Did he return?”
“No,” she answered simply.
“Did he contact you?”
“No.”
“Did he normally stay away over night without calling?” Cass asked.
Nicole motioned for the waiter and ordered a bottle of wine. We waited while the waiter poured. I was dying for some broccoli beef with egg fried rice, but stayed quiet.
“Ma’am?” Cass prompted after the waiter left.
“We have very busy schedules,” Nicole answered, and then sipped her wine. A crescent of blood red lipstick marred the glass. Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Had. We had busy schedules. His clients were a bit erratic and Baxter never knew how long he’d be. Sometimes it was days. Other times, only a few hours.”
“What kind of work does he do?”
“He deals in rare instruments.” At our blank look, Nicole carried on. “Buying and selling. He travels constantly, all over the states and sometimes overseas. Mostly guitars and banjos, but occasionally he’ll purchase other stringed or brass instruments.”
“Does he have a shop?”
“No, he works from home. Does a lot of investigating and buying and selling o
n the internet. His work is very specialized.”
That explained the extensive collection in Forney County. I suspected he had a healthy collection in the Oak Lawn house.
“How did you feel when he left you alone to deal with the break-in and all the mess that goes with it?” Cass asked.
“Irritated, but I understand that clients can be difficult. We certainly deal with our share of drama queens at the firm.” Shaver cleared his throat and Nicole looked apologetic. “These are highly strung people, which is often what makes them so good at what they do.”
“Where were you from Saturday night around eight o’clock until Sunday morning at eight?”
I wondered why Cass was giving Nicole such a wide amount of time to account for, when Grey had confirmed that Bret died between ten Saturday night and two Sunday morning.
“The firm hosted a party Saturday evening. Eighty attended. It started at eight and the last guest left at about one. Is that right?” She looked at Shaver and he nodded. “Several of us stayed until almost three, Ned included. I went home and slept until nearly eleven.”
That was a pretty good alibi for Bret’s murder.
“We’ll need your guest list.”
Nicole motioned for her cell phone, made a call, and asked that the list be sent to Cass’s email. I heard a faint chime as the message landed in her inbox. The support staff at Ivy, McLellan and Brown was efficient, I’ll give them that.
“You don’t have any idea which client your husband went to see on Saturday afternoon?” Cass asked.
Nicole shook her head. “We’re apart so much we really don’t talk about work.” She flinched as she slipped into the present tense again.
“Did he keep a diary, or a calendar?”
“Only on his phone, as far as I know.”
Thank goodness for wine-proof phone covers, I thought.
“Had he changed his habits in the last few weeks?”
A small smile crossed Nicole’s full lips. “Our schedules were chaotic, Detective Elliot. We had few habits, few routines. We spent the little time we had together focused on each other.”
Shaver shifted again. “I think it’s time you answer a few questions for us.”
Cass looked at me. “It might be easier if we start by telling you what we know. Can we order lunch? I’m starving.”
THE SCAM
BETWEEN BITES OF BROCCOLI beef, lemon chicken, and egg fried rice, I told Nicole and Shaver what we’d learned about the man she knew as Bretton Baxter Ivy. Yes, I know it’s rude to talk and eat, but while Nicole was barely picking at her lunch, Shaver was packing it away. If Cass and I didn’t cram in a few calories now, we’d go hungry.
Nicole looked more and more despondent as I filled her in on his multiple names and wives, and I finally asked if she’d had any inkling about Baxter’s prior and alternate lives.
“No, I didn’t. Not really,” she answered quietly. “I suppose there were signs that something wasn’t right, but Bax had an answer for everything. Late night calls, sudden meetings with clients that kept him away, a kid even showed up at our house one morning, looking for him.”
I gave Cass a blank look. We still had tons of digging to do, but I hadn’t turned up any indication that Bret Ivey had a child.
“What kid?” I asked.
“A Hispanic boy, in his late teens or early twenties. Well dressed, very polite. Had an accent. He knocked on the door and asked to speak to BB Ivy. I didn’t know who he meant, but Baxter came flying out of the kitchen when he heard me talking to him. He hustled the kid outside and that was the last I saw of him.”
“When did this happen?” Cass asked.
Nicole caught her bottom lip between her teeth and gently tugged. “A few months back. Spring. Before the weather got so freakishly hot.”
“Did you get his name?”
“No. But I wondered if this could be a child of Baxter’s.” Her smile was rueful. “I’m not naive enough to think I was his first sexual partner. I never imagined he’d been involved with so many women, but…” Her voice trailed off and we waited. “Unless a man has lived as a monk his whole life, there’s always the possibility a kid is roaming around out there. One they didn’t know about. Bax was never totally forthcoming about his history. We’d skirted around both of our pasts, and when he told me he’d done some things he wasn’t proud of, treated women worse than they’d deserved, I just thought he was embarrassed.”
“Did this kid look anything like your husband?” I asked.
“No, but if he’d been involved with a Hispanic woman, it’s possible the child could’ve inherited more of her features than his. It was a silly thought, but at the time, it felt like Bax knew exactly who this kid was, even though he denied it.”
“Baxter didn’t tell you what the kid wanted?”
“He said he was looking for someone called BB Ivy. Baxter told the kid he had the wrong house, and sent him on his way.”
“Did he tell you who BB Ivy was?” I asked carefully.
“No.” Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know him?”
I put my chopsticks down and prayed Shaver would leave some food for me. “There’s a little more I need to tell you about your husband.”
__________
BY THE TIME I explained about Poison Ivy and the Dismembered Bunnies, Shaver looked befuddled. Nicole had polished off the first bottle of wine and was halfway through a second, and her mood had darkened. She crossed her legs and swung one foot under the table, kicking me twice. I was ready to retaliate.
Nicole shook her head as our waiter cleared the table. “You’re telling me that my husband was a famous, you called it folk punk, musician?”
I nodded. “On his way. That’s what we believe.”
“Why wouldn’t he have mentioned it?”
“I don’t know.”
“And you believe this woman, this Blue, didn’t kill him?”
“Yes.” Wanting to keep the conversation as straightforward as possible, I hadn’t brought up Annie or Daphne’s murders.
She snorted. “Who did?”
Shaver laid a calming hand on Nicole’s and looked at Cass. “What do you think?”
“I have my doubts about her guilt. The evidence points directly to Blue, but it seems contrived.”
“You think someone planted it?”
“Before I decide that Blue’s the right person to go to trial, I want more.”
Shaver glanced at Nicole, and then back at Cass. “What happened to him? How was Baxter killed?”
“We believe he was hit in the head with a baseball bat, and that blow killed him.”
“Who found him?”
“The police did. Or more correctly, the fire department. His body had been placed in a vat full of fermenting wine.”
“At this winery that he and Blue own together?” Nicole asked.
We nodded.
“Who put him there?” Shaver asked.
“If Blue killed him, she did,” Cass answered. “Or she had help getting him in the tank. It wouldn’t be an easy task, even for two people.”
“Do you have a viable suspect other than Blue Ivey?”
“No.”
“I want her to burn,” Nicole said, eyes blazing. “Send her to the electric chair. She stole my husband and killed him. Bash her over the head with a bat and dump her in a tank of her own wine. That’s better than she deserves.”
“Not if she’s innocent, Nicole,” Shaver said. “You’re hurt and angry, but we want the right person prosecuted for this crime. Baxter scammed this woman, just like he did you.”
“Scammed?” Cass and I asked in tandem.
I reached for Nicole’s bottle of wine and filled my glass. This was getting interesting.
HE USED YOU
NICOLE GLARED DAGGERS AT Shaver and he raised a hand in a placatory gesture. “We’ve been over this. You say he made you happy, and I liked him well enough, but I never thought Baxter was good for you financially.”
&n
bsp; “Why not?” I asked, leaning forward.
“He spent all her money,” Shaver answered.
“Ned,” Nicole scolded. “That’s none of their business.”
“It might be,” I said “He was spending all of Blue’s money, too.”
Nicole’s eyes widened and I could all but hear the gears sloshing in her brain. “He used us?”
“Given his history,” I gestured to the napkin where I’d made notes about Bret / Baxter’s marital activities, “he knows how to attract wealthy women and gain access to their resources. So yes, I think he used both of you. I think he used all the women he married, except possibly the first, Mary Sterling. He must’ve married her back in his Dismembered Bunnies days.”
Nicole sat back and uncrossed her legs, which stopped the swinging foot. “I want to meet this woman.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Shaver and Cass said together.
Nicole bumped Shaver to urge him out of the booth. She was a sloppy drunk. “Where is she?”
“What about tomorrow?” I asked. “She should’ve had a bail hearing today, but I haven’t heard anything from the agency, so I don’t know if she’s out yet.”
Shaver jumped in. “That’s a better idea, Nicole. It’s late,” he looked at Cass. “Where is Forney County?”
“About three hours east.”
“You’ll feel fresher in the morning. Will see things more clearly. It might not be a bad idea to meet this woman who claims to be married to Baxter, but let’s give it the night.”
Nicole nodded slowly and eased back into the booth.
“I have another question,” I said.
“Why not?” Nicole said. “You’ve already ripped my life to shreds. What’s one more question?”
I wanted to tell her it wasn’t me who had left her life in shreds, it was Baxter. But I wanted the answer to my question even more. “Was every instrument of Baxter’s smashed?”
Nicole nodded.
“None were left intact?”
She cocked her head to the side and looked at me. “We have a gun safe in the house. He stuck three banjos in it a couple of weeks ago.”
A Case of Sour Grapes Page 23
