G&K01 - The Last Witness

by KT Roberts

  “Go ahead, Mrs. Clayton,” Jessie said. “Did you ask her about it?”

  “I did.”

  “How did she explain the mark?”

  “She told me she was walking and felt faint. When she came to she found herself on the basement floor.” Jane shook her head in bafflement. “Amanda said they’d been wanting another child. You see, Patrick is an only child, and Amanda in particular, didn’t want Gabi to grow up without the experience of a sibling. She didn’t even care that Gabi was ten, or that she was in her forties, she still wanted more. She’s already had several miscarriages, you know? Amanda told me, she was praying the passing out thing meant she was pregnant. She was planning to see her doctor.”

  “Did you ever find out whether she was pregnant or not?”

  “No. That was around the time we stopped seeing each other.”

  “Really?” Jessie’s mind was rushing with thoughts. Maybe Sawyer stopped his wife from seeing Jane because he was afraid she’d find out he was hitting her. “That’s pretty interesting. You wouldn’t happen to know who her doctor is?”

  “Sorry. I don’t. The last time I saw Amanda was two weeks ago, and that was just in passing. As for Patrick, the last time I saw him was when he was waiting for Gabi in his new car. What really surprised me was the fact that his engine was running.”

  “How do you know the engine was running? Mercedes are very quiet.” Jessie asked.

  “Well, at first, I didn’t even realize it was him because he was in a different car. Not until I saw Gabi pressing her nose against the window before she got into the car. I wanted to be sure she wasn’t getting into some stranger’s car, so I waited. Patrick rolled down the window right after she got inside and waved as they drove away without having to start the car. I know the Sawyers have a lot of money, but with the price of gas these days, allowing the engine to run is rather unusual.” She shrugged. “We didn’t have an exchange of words, he just waved and drove down the street in his Maybach.”

  Jessie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket on her way back to the car and dialed the cell number. “Humpf,” she said, “Marti was right. Sawyer’s phone has been disconnected.”

  “Didn’t Marti say Sawyer’s daughter told her it was a new phone number?”

  “I believe that is what she said. Sounds like he’s definitely trying to hide something.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “Okay, let’s see what our computer analyst can find out about the Sawyer’s family tree.” Jessie put the phone on speaker and gave Gerard a devilish grin. “I think you should talk to her. You know how much she loves you.”

  “Oh yeah, I’d forgotten just how much,” he winked. A smile broke out on his face when Crystal answered. “Hey, pretty lady, Gerard here.”

  “Ooh, sexy man,” she crooned. Zach looked over at Jessie, and stifled his laughter. “I’ve been waiting for your call. Whatcha got for me.”

  “Check out Patrick Sawyer, West 87th Street, and see if you can find someone named Maria. We don’t have a last name for her, but we think she’s a relative, so see what you can find.”

  “I’m on it.” She hummed as she worked. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Where ya been?”

  “My partner has me busting my ass over here, sweetness. Why? Did you miss me?” he flirted.

  “You know it, baby.” He glanced over at his partner who was now rolling her eyes.

  “Let’s see . . . hmm, I don’t see a Maria anywhere on this list. Do you know where she lives?”

  “Crystal . . . seriously, would I have called you if I knew the address?”

  “Oh yeah—right.” She giggled like a teenager.

  “So you don’t see a Maria that might be related to Sawyer? Can you find out how many Maria’s have purchased cars from his dealership in the last six months? Get back to me as soon as possible, sweetheart, okay?”

  “Ooh, you called me sweetheart . . . is that a proposal?”

  He laughed. “No. Jessie James over here says I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “You’re not? Oh, I’m so disappointed.” She sighed. “Okay,” she said in a business-like manner, “let me put my feelers out and get back to you.”

  “Thank you.” He flipped the phone shut and pulled away from the curb heading down the street. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

  “You kidding me?” she said.

  He nodded his head in the affirmative. “You’re jealous!”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Gerard.”

  “Ooh, I just love it when you’re mean to me.” His brows rose. He nodded, glancing over toward her several times. “Yep, you’re jealous.”

  “Pay attention to your driving.”

  “Yes, yes, yes” he said, punching his fist in the air, “there is a God. The foxy redhead sitting next to me cares.” He leaned forward and looked toward the sky through the front window. “Now, God, if only you could make her see it.”

  “You are so pathetic.”

  Zach’s cell phone rang. He pressed the speaker button and laid the phone down on the seat between them. “Okay, Crystal. What do you have?”

  “I found two Marias connected to Sawyer in the database. One is Maria Watson, the other is Maria Alexander.”

  “Well that certainly makes life easier.” He frowned. How can there be only two? In all of New York?”

  “These two are connected to him. But being the dedicated employee that I am, I checked a little further, and there are one hundred twenty one Maria Watsons, and sixty-one Maria Alexanders in New York. After I give you the addresses for these two women, I’ll check on the other one hundred seventy-nine to be sure they’re not linked to Sawyer.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  She giggled again. “So, here’s the two—” A loud ear-popping sound paused the conversation.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Sorry, I’m chewing bubble gum, and—”

  “Right,” he interrupted, “and you blew a face-smacking bubble.”

  “Well, yeah. Sort of.”

  “Crystal,” he said in a firm voice, “this is important.”

  “Yeah, right. Okay. There’s a Maria Watson who purchased a CLK convertible from the dealership in February of this year, and . . . Maria Alexander purchased a SL500. Hmm . . . and it looks like she also worked for the dealership.”

  “In what capacity?” Zach asked.

  “It doesn’t tell me, but here are the addresses.”

  “Hold on a second.” He turned to Jessie, “you ready?”

  She nodded and keyed the information into her cell phone.

  “Okay, Crystal, we’ll catch up with you later,” Zach said. “Thanks for your help.”

  Zach was right. She was jealous of any woman who paid attention to him despite not having any right. Falling for her him would be so easy. Too easy, dammit. Maybe she should consider another assignment so they could date openly. But how would it look to her peers if they found out she’d gotten involved with another partner? The other issue was how much she enjoyed working with him. Even though she called him “pathetic” at times, he was fun to be with, he made her laugh, he was good-looking, and he made her feel good. She pushed the thought from her mind and changed the subject.

  “How do you think Harwell will take the news about the prospects of putting Patrick Sawyer away?”

  “We’ll have him dancing down the halls of the precinct.”

  “Harwell? Dancing down the halls? Now that would be a hoot.” She snickered. “What a visual. Can you picture Harwell as the dancing baby from the Ally McBeal show?” They burst out laughing.

  “Okay,” he said in between bouts of laughter, “so maybe that was stretching it a bit, but you get the point.”

  “I do.”

  He reached across the seat and grabbed her hand, and gave it a squeeze. His touch was like an electric current charging through her body. When her heart skipped a beat, instead of allowing herself to enjoy it, she pulled back. He
gave her a blank stare. “Why do you make this so difficult?” he asked.

  “I was young and naïve when I got involved with Harwell. I should have known better, but I convinced myself we were in love. Now look where it’s gotten me. Threatening notes from someone in the department, a reputation that has followed me from one job to the next. And now I’m working for the man who dumped me on my ass. Do you think I want to risk more of that shit?”

  “So what you’re really saying is if we didn’t work on the same force, we could have a relationship? Wow!” He stopped talking and glanced at her, a blank expression in his eyes. “I told you before, I don’t have a problem asking for a transfer.”

  “Stop.” She held her hand up. “You’re killing me over here.” He was just too damn sexy for his own good.

  “By the way, how’s that list of people coming along?” he asked.

  “Christ, I feel like I’ve been plunged into a cold shower.”

  “Hey, we can still talk about getting together. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “No, let’s just leave it where it was—on the back burner. I haven’t gotten very far with the list.” She shrugged. “I can’t stop thinking about this case, and quite frankly, this is more important.”

  “The lieutenant is going to be all over your ass if you don’t provide him with that list.”

  “Like I said, Gerard, this case is more important.”

  “More important than your life?”

  “Let’s solve the case first, then we’ll worry about my life,” she said. “Besides, I haven’t received any notes for a while.”

  “Yeah, what has it been . . . seven whole days since the last one?”

  16

  Detective Gerard pressed the doorbell to the home of Maria Watson. He could see her silhouette through the sidelights of the front door as she walked toward them.

  “I’ll keep her occupied,” he said, “but you do the bathroom thing so you can check to see if there are any signs of Sawyer being there.” She nodded.

  Ms. Watson opened the door as far as the chain would allow and peeked out.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Both detectives held their shields up to the window for her to see. Zach was the first to speak to her.

  “Mrs. Watson, we’re Detectives Kensington and Gerard from the Two-one precinct, NYPD. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your interaction with the Sawyer Mercedes dealership on Broadway. Your name was on the list as having purchased a car within the last six months. Can we speak to you for a moment?”

  “Sure.” The detectives could hear the jingle of the chain being removed. When she opened the door all the way, she had a frown on her face until she caught a glimpse of Zach, and her face softened into a sexy smile. “It’s Miss.”

  “Sorry,” he responded. “We’re investigating an Identity Theft,” he lied.

  “Whose identity—mine or Sawyer’s?” she asked.

  “His ma’am. Can we come inside so we can ask you a few questions?”

  “Certainly.” She moved aside. Jessie looked around before they were led into a small garden room filled with large plants. She gestured toward a wicker sofa covered with soft pillows. “Please have a seat.” They both sat down. “Can I offer you a cold drink?”

  “No, thank you, Miss Watson.” Jessie declined. “May I use your bathroom?”

  “Of course.” The woman stood and pointed in the direction of the powder room. “It’s down the hall and to the left.”

  “Thank you.”

  Maria Watson eased herself down on the chair across from Zach. She crossed her legs, her short skirt revealing more than he wanted to see from a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties. “So, how can I help?”

  “When was the last time you saw Mr. Sawyer?”

  “Well, this is a little embarrassing, but I guess I can tell you.” She laughed. “I was having difficulty getting the top down on my convertible a few weeks after I brought it home, so I stopped at the dealership one night before closing and he was the only person there. Other than that, I’ve never had any real contact with him.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “Is Mr. Sawyer in trouble with his dealership now because of the identity theft?”

  “No, not at all, ma’am. We’re just checking everyone on the list.”

  Jessie walked back into the room and nodded to Zach to let him know she didn’t find anything that would indicate Sawyer had been there. “You have a lovely home, Miss Watson.”

  “Thank you, dear. I’ve lived here for several years by myself. Not that I’m complaining, you understand, but I thought I’d have a husband, children and grandchildren by now. ”

  Zach closed his binder and stood. “Okay,” he looked over at his partner, “I think we’re done here.” He nodded to the woman. “Thank you again.”

  “You’re very welcome. I hope Mr. Sawyer fares well on whatever is going on at his dealership. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.” She gave Zach another sexy smile. He glanced at his partner who was struggling to maintain her cool. He rolled his eyes and quickened his pace toward the door, exited the home and walked down the steps toward their vehicle. Jessie’s laughter echoed inside the car.

  “Ooh, Don Juan. She was hitting on you.”

  “Oh, stop. She’s a hundred and ninety years old, for chrissake.”

  “Hey, don’t discount that old broad. She may even be able to teach you a trick or two,” she teased.

  “Please, spare me the advice.” He cleared his throat and started the engine, pulling out into the traffic. “What did you see at the other end of the house?” he asked.

  “Nothing that would indicate he was, or had been there in her home. How about you?”

  “Nothing from me either,” he shrugged dismissively. “This is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Okay, we’re off to the next one. Let me have the address.” Jessie viewed the screen of her phone and repeated the street address.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, Jessie James. Let’s grab a bite before we go to the next house?”

  “Pizza?” she asked.

  “Hey, works for me.”

  There was a traffic tie-up ahead; horns were honking like an orchestra tuning up before a performance. Two people were standing in the middle of the road, between their two cars, having a shouting match with one another.

  “God, driving in this city makes me crazy sometimes.” His mouth twisted into a devilish grin, and he reached up and flipped the siren on to move people out of his way. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  “Good job, hotshot.”

  Jessie parked the car on the road in front of Maria Alexander’s home and they exited the car. A woman answered the door at the first sound of the doorbell. A tall, slender woman with high cheekbones and dark brown hair stood at the opened doorway, her hair piled on the top of her head with stray wisps hanging down against her neck and the sides of her face.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Good afternoon. We’re Detectives Kensington and Gerard, NYPD, and we’re looking for Maria Alexander?”

  “You’ve found her.” She was dressed in red shorts with a matching striped halter-top. She shoved the loose strays of hair back into the barrette holding her hair in place. “What can I do for you?” she asked, the hair falling back down onto her neck.

  “We’d like to ask you some questions about Patrick Sawyer.”

  “What about him?”

  “Is he here?”

  “No. Why would he be here?”

  “Do you know him, ma’am?”

  “Of course I know him. I used to work for him at the Mercedes dealership. Why do you ask?”

  She released a dramatic sigh and brushed the hair away from her face again. Pulling her hair out of the barrette, she shoved the plastic holder between her slightly bent knees so she could smooth her hair back. Her hands meticulously raked the hair back into a twist. She removed the
barrette from her knees and anchored the hair in place.

  “We have an urgent matter we need to discuss with him.” Zach watched her reaction. He could tell by the expression on her face that she was lying, plain and simple. There was no question in his mind. Maybe Sawyer was shacking up with this woman. “Would you mind if we came inside for a few minutes to ask you some questions? It’s very hot out here.” Detective Gerard looked up at the stairway and noticed a small child crouched down, peeking at them through the balusters.

  “Do you know where Mr. Sawyer is, ma’am?”

  “Daddy’s at the store,” the small child answered, then jumped to her feet and galloped down the stairs toward the detectives. “Did something happen to my daddy?”

  “I’m sorry, Detectives,” Maria apologized, her face flushed, obviously embarrassed about being caught in a lie. “She’s right. He’s picking up some groceries.” She shifted with unease from one foot to the other. “I’m sure you can imagine how many people want to see Mr. Sawyer. I try to guard his privacy.”

  “Do you still work for Mr. Sawyer?”

  “No. But we’ve remained good friends over the years,” she mouthed in a low voice, frequently glancing at the young girl. “Please come inside.” She shut the door with her foot.

  Jessie caught Maria giving Gabi a dirty look when they walked past her. The home was nicely appointed with black lacquered, hand carved oriental furnishings. Expensive oriental area rugs covered the floors. “Please, have a seat in the living room,” she gestured with her hand. “This is Gabi,” she told the detectives.

  Gabi stood and stared, wide-eyed at the detectives. “What’s wrong?”

  “What makes you think there’s something wrong?” she asked the child.

  “Because you wouldn’t be here if something wasn’t wrong, and because Daddy is out, and I haven’t heard from Mommy,” she blurted out.

  “Gabi,” Maria said reaching for the child’s hand, “why don’t you wait in your room upstairs so the adults can talk.”