Deceptive Practices

by Simon Wood

  “So why hide?” Andrew said. “Everybody thinks you’re on the lam.”

  “Clare tried to kill me once. I didn’t want there to be a second time.”

  Olivia had heard enough and got up from her seat.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Nick asked. “I’ve answered your questions. It’s time to answer a few of mine.”

  “Another time,” Andrew said, pulling Nick from his seat.

  Olivia drove Nick back to his car, which he’d parked a block away from the Handyman’s lot. Despite the negotiated peace between them all, Andrew had still chosen to ride in the back with Nick. The three of them got out and stood between the cars.

  “Are you going to tell Clare about our get-together?” Nick asked.

  “No,” Olivia said.

  “So what’s all this been about? You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

  Olivia nodded. “It’s better if you don’t know. You’ve got your secrets, and I’ve got mine.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Olivia released a pent-up breath when the minister thanked everyone for coming and wished them well. Richard’s service was over, and she’d held it together. The toughest part had been giving the eulogy. She’d spent a night alone with a pen and paper, coming up with one, but it all went by the wayside when it came time for her to speak. She wasn’t sure what she’d actually said, but she knew she had talked about how she had loved Richard and wished he was still alive. What everyone took for a heartfelt and impassioned love note for a spouse was really the admission of a penitent who had made a terrible mistake.

  As people left, a seemingly endless line of friends, coworkers, and acquaintances took turns giving their condolences and wishing Olivia well on their way out. She listened to their reminiscences with a forced smile and a polite thank-you.

  Clare moved in for a hug when it got down to the stragglers. “How are you holding up?”

  “Flagging.”

  Clare had surprised Olivia in recent days. After her attempted shakedown for money, Olivia had expected her sister to distance herself for a while, but she’d been a surprising godsend. She’d helped out with funeral arrangements and been a good sister for once. Maybe cutting Clare off had woken her up to the responsibilities of modern life.

  “Did the bitch come?” Clare asked.

  “Yep, and went,” Olivia said. When the service had ended, Richard’s mistress had been one of the first to shoot out the door. Olivia had spotted her arrival just before the proceedings began. She’d chosen to sit at the back. At least she hadn’t made a scene.

  Richard’s dad came over and hugged Olivia. “You did great.”

  It wasn’t a compliment she was going to receive from her mother-in-law. To avoid any and all family drama, she’d put Richard’s parents up in a hotel. Richard’s dad had been wonderful at running interference with his wife to keep sparks to a minimum. Olivia and Richard’s mother had barely said a word to each other, which was fine with Olivia.

  “Thanks, Tom.”

  “Louise and I are going back to the house, as it looks as if a lot of people are heading there for the wake.”

  “Thank you. I think I’m needed here for a little while to tie things up. The caterers are there, so you can let yourselves in. If the house gets packed, just open up the doors to the backyard.”

  Tom raised his hands. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with whatever happens.”

  She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. He caught up with Louise, who was in conversation with Richard’s boss at the ad agency. She fixed Olivia with a cold glare before moving on.

  Leo Steele waited for another mourner to have his say before moving in. “Lovely service, Mrs. Shaw.”

  “Thank you.”

  “With your permission, I’d like to remove your husband for cremation.”

  “Please,” Olivia said.

  “Would you like to make your final good-bye?”

  Olivia shook her head. “I already have.”

  Clare took Olivia’s hand in a tight grip.

  Steele nodded his approval and left.

  “I haven’t seen Andrew. Where is he?” Clare asked.

  “He thought it was better if he didn’t come,” Olivia lied. Andrew was in LA, shadowing Heather and Amy Moore-Marbach.

  “Good decision,” Clare said. “I notice Finz is hanging around.”

  Olivia hadn’t invited him, although she supposed it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find out about the service. The detective was standing at the church’s entrance. He exchanged nods with passing mourners but never entered into conversation with anyone. His presence had thrown her when her gaze fell upon him during the eulogy. She’d stumbled over her words for a moment before gathering herself. She didn’t have to ask why he was there. It was pure intimidation. He wanted to see if she was cracking. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him in attendance.

  “Yeah, Finz always seems to be around,” Olivia replied.

  “Do you think Roy’s here?”

  It would be just like him to show his face to make her squirm, but she hadn’t spotted him in or outside the church. She guessed the situation was a little too hot for him to put in an appearance. With cops circling, looking to pin a murder charge on someone, he would likely steer well clear of his mess.

  Finz made a move toward them.

  “Shit. Here comes Finz. I don’t want to deal with his crap right now.”

  “It’s okay,” Clare said. “I’ll put him in his place.”

  Finz let Clare cover the remaining distance between them. Her expression said she was ready to do battle. He put out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Lyndon.”

  “Detective, is this an appropriate time for a visit?”

  That was an interesting opening salvo. Innocent people didn’t greet the police this way. The appropriate response should have been, “Do you have news?” Something stank with this investigation.

  “I’m just paying my respects,” he replied. “I find it helpful to put a human face with the name. It’s easy to forget there’s a real person behind the witness statements, autopsy report, and whatnot. Apologies for any offense caused.”

  “Oh,” she said, the fight gone from her. “I’m sorry. Thank you for coming.”

  The best way to win a fight was not to have it at all. “Think nothing of it. But while I have you, I wonder if you’d be okay answering some questions.”

  “Me?”

  “I don’t want to bother your sister. I can see she has a lot on her plate at the moment.”

  Clare whipped her head around to look for her sister.

  Olivia can’t help you, Clare, he thought. You have to deal with me now.

  “The wake is starting at Olivia’s house now. Can’t this wait? I can come see you tomorrow.”

  He never made appointments. Appointments gave people time to rehearse what they would say. The impromptu approach forced people to think on their feet, and not many could keep their balance. “This won’t take long.”

  Clare shook her head doubtfully.

  “How about this? I’ll drive you back to your sister’s place, and we can chat during the drive. How’s that sound?”

  Panic and frustration played out across Clare’s face before she said, “Okay, but this can’t drag on. My sister needs me.”

  “I promise not to be a burden.”

  While Clare scurried off to explain to Olivia, Finz brought his car around to the front of the church. Finz liked carrying out interviews in cars. The tight confines turned up the intensity. It meant no escape.

  Clare emerged a couple of minutes later. Watching her descend the church’s steps, Finz thought Clare and Olivia might have been sisters by blood, but they weren’t by lifestyle. Olivia had certainly found the good life. It was easy to see that Clare’s black dress was a cheap cocktail dress, no doubt picked up at a discount store. He’d been to her home at the trailer park. Oh yes, Olivia had certainly discovered the good lif
e in comparison to her older sister.

  Clare opened the car door and climbed in. Finz put the car in drive and pulled away. “Has your sister shared any thoughts on potential suspects for Richard’s murder?”

  “No. You any closer to finding one?”

  Finz could do without the antagonism. He decided to kill it before it became a problem and turned on the officialese. “I need to get your statement for the night of Mr. Shaw’s death. That okay?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “Even if you know nothing, I have to get a record of it.” He smiled. “But I’m sure you know some things.”

  He stopped for a light and glanced over at Clare. She sat hunched forward, with her hands clasped together, bouncing her right knee up and down.

  “Nervous?”

  “Huh?”

  “You seem nervous.”

  Clare shook her head. “No. This is all just a little overwhelming. I haven’t come to terms with Richard’s murder. That’s the type of thing that happens to other people, not us.”

  Finz nodded. “No one ever expects bad things to happen.”

  The light changed, and he eased the car forward.

  At first glance, Clare seemed to be the tougher of the two sisters. She looked like she’d weathered adversity on a regular basis. The lines on her face and her broken fingernails told a story of a life hard lived. Whereas Olivia looked as if she lived a charmed life, with the well-manicured nails, the designer-label clothes, the nice cars, and the expensive home. After putting these women under the microscope, a different story emerged. Olivia was the strong one. He wouldn’t learn the truth from going after Olivia. His route was through Clare.

  Clare pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

  Regulations said no, but when working with witnesses, you did whatever you could to make them happy. “Sure. No problem.”

  She lit up and blew a cloud of smoke that filled the car.

  “Could you tell me where you were between seven and ten the night Richard was killed?”

  “I was at home. Olivia came over, and she left at nine thirty or so.”

  “Can you be more precise?”

  “Not really. It’s not like I was clock-watching.” She took a drag on her cigarette. “Do you suspect Olivia?”

  Finz smiled. “No. I just need to rule her out. It’s good for the DA’s office that they can show family members have an ironclad alibi. Why was Olivia with you?”

  “We were just hanging out.”

  “So you’re close?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know of any troubles between Richard and Olivia?”

  “No, things were good.”

  “So they didn’t have financial troubles or personal problems?”

  Clare snorted. “Richard and Olivia? No. Me, I’m a different story.”

  Finz smiled again. He’d pocket that remark. It could prove useful. “How about grudges or enemies?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Clare had passed the initial audition. It was time to make things a little tougher for her. “How’s Olivia doing?”

  “How well does anyone do under these circumstances?”

  “Especially considering this is her second husband to die violently.”

  Clare had her cigarette halfway to her mouth when Finz dropped that brick on her. She sat frozen, with her mouth open, the cigarette inches from her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that her previous husband, Mark Renko, died in a car crash and her current husband was murdered. That’s pretty unlucky.”

  “Well, that . . . that’s exactly what it is—bad luck. I don’t know what else you expect me to say.”

  He said nothing, leaving Clare to fill the dead air.

  “Are you trying to say the deaths are connected? How could they be? You think Liv killed them? You honestly think she beat Richard to death and crashed Mark’s car for him? You’re crazy.”

  “You know what’s crazier? That your husband disappeared too.”

  Clare took a long pull from her cigarette and blew the smoke into Finz’s face. She stubbed the butt out in his pristine, unused ashtray. “If you’ve got a point to make, why don’t you just come out and say it?”

  “I’m just saying your family is no stranger to tragedy.”

  Again, he chose silence to give Clare the space to fill the void. This time, she didn’t bite.

  “What happened to your husband, Clare?”

  “Nick was a deadbeat. He ran up debts and grudges. Eventually they caught up with him, so he took off, leaving me to pay them off for him, and I haven’t seen him since. He was a deadbeat, so I didn’t go looking for his sorry ass. Excuse me for marrying a jerk.”

  “I noticed you went back to your maiden name after Nick disappeared. Like you knew he wasn’t coming back.”

  “I didn’t want him back, didn’t want his name or anything to do with him. But what’s this got to do with anything? I thought you were supposed to be finding Richard’s killer. Harassing us doesn’t get you any closer to doing that. Christ, you cops are all the fucking same. You don’t want to do your job. You’re like piss running down a gutter. You take the easiest path to the sewer.”

  When it came to slams, that one was a doozy, and Finz fought to keep in a smile. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No. When we catch Richard’s killer, the defense team is going to throw mud in all directions. What I have to do is make sure none of it sticks to Olivia. That means asking the nasty, dirty, and embarrassing questions now.”

  Clare was silent for a second. Finz wasn’t sure if she was buying his line. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

  “It’s what puts the ‘dick’ in ‘detective.’”

  “Ha, ha.”

  He was closing in on Olivia’s home. He had to keep pushing. “I don’t think you’re going to like my next question much either.”

  “You stun me.”

  “Olivia wrote a check to Miles Gault for three thousand dollars the day of Richard’s murder.”

  “So?”

  “Among other things, Miles Gault is a loan shark. Olivia doesn’t seem like the type of person to need a loan shark. Then again, Gault has been known to break a few skulls. Maybe he went a little far this time. Care to comment?”

  Clare fidgeted in her seat and fished out a second cigarette from the pack. Finz waited. He was an expert at waiting. She rolled the cigarette around in her fingers a few times before lighting it.

  “I’m broke, okay?” she said. “My credit rating is shit. I needed money, and I got it from Gault. I got behind on payments, and Olivia, being the sister that she is, bailed me out. Satisfied?”

  Well, that correlated with what Gault and Olivia had said. “Can I ask what the money was for?”

  “No.”

  Finz let that go. He didn’t need to know right at this moment.

  “My brother-in-law is dead, and you’re treating me and my sister like suspects.”

  “Sorry, this line of questioning is just routine.”

  Their journey came to an end. Cars lined the street in front of Olivia’s home. He had no option but to double-park.

  “One last question before you go. Who is Andrew Macready?”

  Clare smiled, but it was a cold smile. “You really are a jerk, Detective Finz. I almost believed your bullshit line about asking the tough questions before the defense attorneys do.”

  He ignored her insult. He wanted to get something from this interview. He needed someone to start opening up to him. “The thing is, you’re right. Olivia wasn’t around when either of her husbands died, but Andrew Macready was. He was there when Mark Renko died, and he’s around now. So I ask you again, who is Andrew Macready?”

  “He’s a high school friend of Liv’s. We grew up together. He and Olivia were a couple once.”

  “And now?”

  “
Friends.”

  “Just friends?”

  “Just friends.” Clare wasn’t smoking anymore. Her gaze remained on Olivia’s house, the cigarette just burning between her fingers.

  He let Clare stew in her own thoughts for a moment or two before pressing her harder. “I know I’m not getting the truth from you guys, and it’s holding me back. Holding justice back. If you want to be on the right side of it, you’ll tell me what’s going on.”

  Clare turned to him. “Do you pay for information?”

  The question blindsided him. He’d expected a lot of things from Clare’s mouth but not that. “What?”

  “Confidential informants, CIs, whatever you call them. How much do you people pay?”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Well, it does if you want anything from me.”

  It was her turn to play the silence game and wait for an answer. Was Clare bullshitting him? Paying him back for riding her? He couldn’t tell. A car honked at them for blocking the road. They both ignored it.

  “When you have a better answer, give me a call,” she said and climbed from the car.

  Watching her enter Olivia’s house, he felt for the first time like he was getting somewhere.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Roy didn’t need directions to find the spot. You never forget where you buried a body, even at Topanga State Park.

  The Chrysler’s wheels tore at the fire road’s surface with little success. The loose red dirt provided no grip. They’d gotten as far as they were getting. He stopped the Chrysler and switched off the engine. He could leave the car on the trail. No one would be around at this time of day. The park was large and undermanned enough to pretty much ensure privacy, especially since it was close to closing time. It was the reason he’d chosen this spot in the first place.

  He looked over at Beth. She gazed out the passenger-side window at the hillside. The intensity of her gaze burned a hole through the trees. Even she knew exactly where Jeff Maxwell’s body was rotting in the ground.

  It had been three years since Beth had last asked him to bring her out here. She only ever wanted to come when she was at her darkest.