by Gary Parker
Her mind rushing, Connie raked the money into her briefcase. “Thank you so much,” she said. “You’ve been a big help.”
“Don’t lose it all in one place.”
Connie pivoted and started to walk out. But then she twisted back to the teller, a sheepish grin on her face.
“Look . . .” she began. “I know this sounds crazy, but could you see if you have a safety deposit box in the name of Connie or Jack Brandon? My husband opened this account, and I can’t remember if he said he opened a safety deposit box as well.”
The teller didn’t hesitate. “Sure, hold on a second.”
It didn’t take him long to return. “No Brandon with a safety deposit box,” he said. “Anything else?”
Connie shook her head, then headed out. Okay, no safety deposit box in St. Louis. But maybe a tape, and she knew who to ask to get it. Wilt Carver. As the attorney general, he would know who to ask and would have the power to get his questions answered. She would call him. He told her to get in touch if she ever needed anything. Well, now she did.
*****
As Connie walked out of the bank, a security officer in a black chair in a back office enlarged her image on one of four video screens mounted on the wall before him. Wanting to make sure, he rewound the video, then watched it a second time, comparing it to the eight-by-ten-inch picture he had lying in an open folder on his desk. Certain that the video and the picture matched, he picked up a cell phone and buzzed his boss.
“Yeah, the woman in the photo you gave me . . . she just came in.”
“What did she do?”
“Picked up a bit of cash. Walked out of here with a briefcase full of money.”
“Thanks. You can throw away the picture.”
“What about the video?”
“Bring that to me. Then forget you ever saw it.”
“Ever saw what?”
“Exactly.”
*****
Within an hour after returning to Jefferson City and stuffing her briefcase onto the closet shelf that held Jack’s personal effects, Connie arrived at Wilt Carver’s office on the third floor of the Capitol Building. Wilt met her in the reception area and immediately ushered her past a room full of people who apparently had been waiting for some time. Steering her into his office, he offered her a soft drink, and she gladly took it. Without food since morning, she needed something on her stomach.
“Sit down, Connie,” said Wilt, a bright smile on his face. “You look exhausted.”
She sipped her drink and sagged into the deep brown leather of the chair he offered. Quickly, she scanned the room. Dark wood shelves lined the two walls behind her seat, a huge window overlooked the Missouri River on the north end, and the flags of Missouri and the United States hung on brass poles in the corners of the window. A thick rug decorated with the seal of Missouri covered the center of the hardwood floor. The room demonstrated the power that came with the office of attorney general.
Wilt took a chair across from her, sinking into the leather. His appearance matched the room. Dark slacks. Starched blue shirt. A red tie with navy horizontal stripes. Black shoes with a tassel, shined so well you could see yourself in them.
Connie smiled. “Thank you for seeing me so soon,” she said. “I hope I didn’t upset those folks outside, skipping past them like I did.”
Wilt waved his hand. “Believe me, they come every day and they get paid well for waiting. They enjoy it. Tell me how you’re doing.”
She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Getting by okay, I guess. The sadness comes and goes . . . you know, you can’t cry all the time. So, I keep going. I’ve got the kids to raise, so I try not to give up.”
“You lost a wonderful man.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Connie sipped her drink. Wilt fingered the cuff links on his shirt. Connie broke the silence.
“Look, Wilt, I don’t know you that well, but I know you and Jack go back a long way.”
“All the way to high school. The good old Wildcats. Jack and I hung around together all the time. Debate club, English classes, double dates, you name it, we did it and we did it as a team. After high school, when I entered Washington and Jack MU, I missed him terribly. Then, I moved to Kansas City and Jack moved here. I was so glad when I got elected and came to Jefferson City. Gave me a chance to reconnect with Jack. I . . . I miss him.”
“I know you do. We all do.” Connie’s eyes moistened.
Wilt bent toward her, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped under his chin.
“What can I do for you, Connie?” he asked. “I feel awful about all this. Let me help you if I can.”
Connie squeezed her soda can with both hands. “I’m worried about the investigation,” she started. “I know Jack didn’t kill himself.”
Wilt straightened up. “I thought the police had pretty much decided he did. You know . . . the note and everything, the drugs.”
“But I don’t see it that way. Not with Jack. You knew him, Wilt. Did he seem like the kind of guy who would take drugs, kill himself?”
Wilt patted the side of his chair, obviously considering her question. His dark eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled. After several seconds, he spoke.
“No, not really. But he had changed some lately, become more withdrawn. Jack always had those quiet tendencies, artist’s tendencies I always called them. He could get pensive in a hurry, he thought so deeply about things. Not like me. I try not to get too pensive about anything. That’s why I became a politician.”
He smiled at his own joke, and Connie laughed for a moment with him. But the laughter quickly died, and she thought of Jack’s last weeks again.
“I noticed his withdrawal too,” she agreed. “Or at least I do now. I passed it off as worry about all this gambling mess. Still do for that matter. But some other things have come to light, too, and I don’t know . . . don’t know what to think anymore.”
She stopped, trying to decide how much to say. Her secrets about the drugs and the insurance policy and the $15,000 in her closet and the check to Reed Morrison weighed on her like an anvil on an ant and she wanted to let someone else carry part of the load. But she needed someone who couldn’t get hurt by it all.
That’s why she hadn’t told Tess. If someone did murder Jack, then the less anyone else knew, the better. No reason to bring Tess into any danger. But Wilt? Maybe he could take care of himself. Maybe she could tell him and feel reasonably sure no one could hurt him.
She studied Wilt’s face. He came across as a man on the fast track to the top. No one thought he would stop with his current position. Most pundits said he would go higher. Many said he was destined to go higher. With his father’s money, estimated at just less than half a billion dollars, he could run for any office in the nation. Speculation said he would too. Said his father would see to it, even if Wilt didn’t want it.
Robert Carver, never a king, but time and time again a king maker, wanted his son on the throne. Either senator or governor in the next election cycle, then maybe a run on the White House. If a poor but bright kid from Arkansas could do it, then a rich, bright kid from Missouri surely could too.
For Connie, though, all that mattered little. For her, it boiled down to one question: Did she trust Wilt Carver? If she wanted help, she had to trust somebody. She made a decision: She would tell part of the story, enough for Wilt to help if he wanted, but not enough to get him in any real danger. That would be fair to them both.
Reaching into her lap, she opened her purse and took out a dollar. “I want to retain you as my lawyer,” she said, holding out the money. “Then you have to keep confidential what I tell you.”
“I’m a representative of the state,” said Wilt, refusing the money. “I can’t take your money. But no one can make me repeat what you tell me. You have my word on that.”
Connie withdrew the dollar. “I need you to get something for me,” she said. “A video from the Lake St. Louis branch of the Bank of St. Louis.”
“What kind of video?”
“A video of Jack. Back in February he opened an account there. I want to see the surveillance tape of that day.”
“How do you know it’s there?”
“I don’t. But I know he opened the account. And I know that bank has the cameras.”
Wilt patted the side of his chair. “What’s the point?” he asked. “You see Jack open a bank account. What does that tell you?”
Connie slumped deeper into her chair. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe nothing. But I need to see the film. Somehow, I think it’ll help me know his state of mind, what he was thinking. You see, Wilt . . . I don’t know why Jack set up that account; he kept it a secret. I trust he did it out of a pure motive, but it still hurts to know he went through all this without me, he got himself into something and couldn’t get out, and that video shows him doing some of that. If by some slim chance he did kill himself, then I believe the video will show me what he was feeling, his posture, his body language, I don’t know, I just need to see it, that’s all. It’s . . . well . . . it’s the last picture I’ll ever have of him and I just want to see it!” Her voice trailed off.
Wilt rose and began to pace.
“I don’t know if the banks keep those tapes,” he said. “I’m certain they don’t keep them for long. No reason. A day passes, nothing happens, they file the tape for a few days, then bring it out and tape over it. I’m sure that’s what happens. Chances are slim the tape’s still there.”
“But you’ll check?”
Wilt stopped pacing and stood framed in the floor-length window behind his desk. He stuck his hands into his pockets and faced Connie.
“Yes, Connie, I’ll do what I can. I’ll make a few calls. When I find out something, I’ll get in touch, one way or the other.”
Pleased, Connie stood and crossed the floor to him. Her eyes smiling, she shook his hand warmly. “Jack thought so highly of you,” she said. “I think now I know why.”
Wilt dropped her hand and opened his arms, inviting her into an embrace. As she hugged him, he said, “Don’t compliment me too highly, Connie. I’m a politician, remember.”
Standing in his office with a panoramic view of the Missouri River flowing below, Connie didn’t know whether Wilt Carver, state attorney general and rising superstar, was joking with her or warning her.
*****
Two floors down, a man with an earplug and a microphone attached to his head flipped a switch and spoke into his mouthpiece.
“Did you get that?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.
“Yeah, taped and labeled.”
“He’ll want the video.”
“I’ll get him the copies.”
“You do good work.”
“Glad you noticed.”
*****
Knowing she didn’t have much time before the kids rushed in, Connie sped home, hustled inside, and picked up the phone book. Looking up the number for Trans World Airlines, she wondered what a direct flight would cost. She didn’t know for certain she would go. After she saw the tape from the bank she would make that decision. Reed might have moved for all she knew. But she needed to keep all her options open. Within a couple of minutes, she dialed the number and reached an operator.
“Yeah, I need some information on flights from St. Louis to Las Vegas.”
“What dates did you want to fly?”
“Well, I’m not sure yet, just wanted to find out the daily flight times.”
“Okay, let’s see. We have an 8:05 then a 11:10 in the morning and a 1:20 and a 6:35 in the afternoon. The evening flights are 9:20 and 11:10. Any of those work for you?”
“Yeah, I think so. Now I just have to get my dates straight.”
“Call us back when you do, and we’ll gladly make your reservations. Anything else I can do for you today?”
“Yes, how much are the tickets for those flights?”
“That depends. What time of day you want to leave, how long in advance you make your ticket, whether you stay over on Saturday or not. Anywhere from 138 to 479 dollars. As soon as you know when you want to fly and how long you’ll stay, we can make your reservations.”
Satisfied, Connie thanked the agent, hung up, and scooted to her bedroom. Changing into jeans and a light sweatshirt, she got busy. The kids would get home in less than an hour, and she needed to get supper on.
CHAPTER
14
That night at just past 9:30, after tucking the kids into bed, Connie joined Tick and Tess in the den for a cup of hot tea.
Though exhausted from the day’s events, she had one more thing to do. She had to tell them about the alleged affair and ask Tick to help her find the woman who claimed it.
Taking a seat on the sofa by Tess and leaving the rocking chair for Tick, she blew on her tea and decided to go right to the point.“ Tick, I need a favor,” she said, staring him straight in the eyes.
“Anything I can do, you know I’m your man.”
“I thought you were my man,” teased Tess.
“You better treat me better, or I might make a trade,” he said, laughing. “What can I do for you, Connie, my dear.”
Connie cut the levity off at the knees. “You can get me the name and address of a woman who claims to have had an affair with Jack.”
Tick gulped and spilled tea on his jeans. Tess instantly set her tea on an end table and turned to Connie.
“What woman?” she exclaimed. “Who told you something crazy like that?”
Connie stayed calm. “Luke Tyler did. I don’t know many details. But Tyler said this woman from Columbia came in and said she and Jack were lovers.”
“No way!” shouted Tick, his blond mustache wiggling violently. “Jack loved you more than anything . . . he wouldn’t . . . wouldn’t hurt you . . . take a chance on losing you and the kids doing something like that.”
“I told Tyler the same thing,” said Connie. “But he didn’t seem to believe me. Saw this as a reason for Jack to commit suicide. You know, conscience-ridden man involved in adultery ends his life rather than face his family, that kind of thing.”
“He didn’t know Jack Brandon!” Tess insisted. “Of all the crazy notions, this one takes the cake.”
“But I need to prove that for Tyler to keep the investigation going,” said Connie. “Right now, he’s leaning toward declaring it a suicide and shutting it down.”
Calmer now, Tick sipped on his tea, then said, “You’re right, Connie. That’s the talk downtown. Most take the suicide note pretty seriously. An affair gives him a motive. Men have done themselves in for far less than this.”
“That assumes the charge is true,” said Tess.
“Sure it does,” agreed Connie.
“But with Jack, we know it’s not,” said Tick.
“But how do we prove that to everyone else?” asked Tess.
“We go see this woman,” said Connie. “See her eye-to-eye. Make her tell us the truth.”
Tick placed his tea in his lap, steadying it with one hand while he twirled his mustache with his other. “You say Tyler told you this?”
“Yes.”
“And he interviewed her?”
“Yes. He said she came forward when she saw the story in the paper. Didn’t want people going off on wild goose chases if she caused the problem.”
“That was kind of her.” Sarcasm dripped in Tess’s words.
“Tyler’s pretty good, though,” said Tick. “If this woman said she and Jack had an affair and Tyler believed her, she had to do a pretty good acting job.”
Connie licked tea off the edge of her cup. “I asked him to reinterview her. Try to tie down her story. Where did she and Jack go? Did they spend time in hotels? Any record of that? You know . . . the kinds of things we can check.”
“What did he find out?”
“Nothing. Her phone is disconnected, and no one is home.”
Tick twitched his mustache. “That’s interesting. Patrols ch
ecking her out?”
“Yes, Tyler said the Columbia guys go by every day. She rents an apartment and everything looks normal, but they never find her.”
“You want to go by there yourself? Is that it?”
Connie shrugged. “Sure. I want to see the woman who says she slept with my husband. Since she’s lying, someone had to put her up to it, maybe paid her to tell the lie. She obviously wants the murder investigation to go away. If the police declare it a suicide, she accomplishes her goal.”
“You think she’s connected with Jack’s killer?” It was Tess who asked, her normally boisterous voice reduced to a whisper.
“She may not know she is, but that’s the way I see it.”
“So we find this woman, and we find Jack’s murderer?”
“I’m not sure, but possibly.”
“That sounds dangerous,” said Tick. “If somebody did murder Jack, they won’t take too kindly to somebody digging around in that. This isn’t work for a mama.”
“It’s police work,” said Tess, sliding over to Connie and taking her hand. “You need to let Tick and Luke Tyler take care of this. You could get in trouble, get hurt. If they killed Jack, then—” She stopped, not willing to follow her logic to its conclusion. “Then they will kill again if necessary.” Connie completed the sentence.
“You think it’s the gambling people, don’t you?” asked Tick.
“I can’t imagine anyone else.”
For several long seconds, no one spoke. Tick took another sip of tea, and Tess patted Connie over and over again on the hand. The ceiling creaked, and Connie noticed the wind had picked up outside. She stared at Tick.
“Can you get me the woman’s name and address?” she asked.
Tick rubbed his head. “I don’t know. I’m sure only a few folks know that information.”
“It’s in Tyler’s computer,” Connie said.
“That’s secure.”
“Don’t you have clearance?”
“Sure, but not at that level. I’ll need Luke’s password.”
“Can you get it?”
“I’m not sure I should.”
