Casey eyed the picture paused on the screen. Definitely the same heart-shaped key ring. “Would you mind if we had a look inside the purse?”
“Have at it.”
He pushed the purse toward Casey, who pulled out her wallet, a makeup bag, hairbrush, and an assortment of papers, half of which he handed to Al to look through, while he searched the other. It was there he found one single stub that had been torn off one of the checks made out to Margie Foulke. Casey set it on the table, sliding it toward Tony. “Do you know anyone named Margie Foulke?”
“No. Never heard of her.”
“We believe that was the name your wife was using to collect money. Ten thousand dollars.”
Tony sat back in his chair, his jaw dropping open as he took in the amount. “Ten thousand dollars? For what?” He stared at the check stub. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“We’re still looking into what it means,” he said, noting that Al seemed absorbed in something he’d pulled from an envelope.
Al turned a page, his brows rising slightly. “Mr. Salvatori…” He held out the documents. “Why didn’t you mention that you and your wife both had recently taken out large life insurance policies?”
Tony stared at the papers in Al’s hands. “Honestly? I forgot about them. It wasn’t my idea. I—”
“What do you mean, not your idea?” Al asked.
“Trudy wanted to do it. She was worried that if something happened to either of us and we weren’t able to sell the house, we’d lose everything.”
“And have you contacted the insurance company, yet? About her death.”
The man’s face paled. “Yes…”
“Didn’t forget for that long, then, did you?”
“I swear. It’s true. Bev’s the one who reminded me.”
“Bev?”
“My real estate agent.”
Al folded the papers, returned them to the envelope, then gathered up the rest of the papers, replacing everything into the purse. “Are you and Bev still involved?”
“No. I swear.”
“You understand we’ll need to take this. We’ll get you a receipt.”
Tony nodded, his yes barely audible.
Casey wrote out a receipt on the evidence-booking form, handed it to Tony, then said, “We’ll see ourselves out.”
If Tony heard them, he gave no indication, and Casey’s last glimpse as they left the kitchen was of a man looking scared.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Al handed Casey the Salvatoris’ insurance policy in the car. “Look at the amounts,” Al said.
Casey scanned the pages. The policy listed Trudy as Tony’s beneficiary and Tony as Trudy’s. Tony was insured for one million, Trudy for half a million. “That’s a lot of money.”
“See the witness on there?”
Casey read the signature witnessing the designation of the beneficiaries and saw Bev Farland’s name. “Is it possible Trudy didn’t know about her husband’s affair with the real estate agent?”
“Guess it’s possible. Depending on who you talk to, it seems almost common knowledge.”
“If you were having an affair with someone, you think your wife would’ve let that woman witness the beneficiary on your life insurance policy?”
“Exactly what I was thinking. So either Trudy forgave the woman, didn’t know about the affair, or we’ve got some forged signatures. Either way, what you’re holding there is plenty of motive to want Trudy dead.”
“Five hundred thousand reasons, I’d say. Definitely enough to go have a chat with Ms. Farland and find out if she’s the female voice heard by our killer’s mother.”
Fifteen minutes later Casey and Al arrived at the office of Bev Farland Real Estate, situated on Broadway, just east of Montgomery. Bev was at her desk, talking on the phone when they walked in, and she covered the receiver and said, “Don’t suppose you’re here to inquire about property, are you?”
“No,” Casey replied as he and Al took seats in front of her desk.
“Hey,” she said into the phone. “Something came up. Let me give you a call back.” She gave Casey a cynical smile. “If you’re not here to buy something, then what are you here for?”
Al leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, waiting for Casey to take charge. He slipped the insurance documents from his folder. “Is this your signature?”
She eyed the paper. “It is.”
“And…you forgot to mention that you actually witnessed a fairly new insurance policy taken out on the victim?”
“It was also taken out on the husband. And since the policy was Trudy’s idea, it didn’t seem something worth mentioning. Had it been the other way around…?” She gave a shrug.
“Trudy’s idea?”
“Yes. Tony told me.”
“So basically, you have Tony’s word that this policy on his now-dead wife was her idea?”
“And later, her word. I was there. Signing it, if you recall.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.
Casey wanted to reach out and shake it off her face. “What was the reasoning behind it?”
“Money, of course.”
“Were you involved in her murder?”
She stared for several seconds. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, Ms. Farland. We’re not. What were you doing between the hours of seven and eight on the morning of the homicide?”
“I’m a suspect now? What happened to the guy you chased into the oncoming car?”
Casey glanced at Al, who gave a slight nod as if to say you’re on the right track. “He’s still dead. Just implying that he might not be the only person involved.”
“Wants to share the blame, eh? Imagine that. I was here, in this office, and I have the security tapes to prove it. You’re welcome to look.”
“If I recall, you told us you were out of town on the day Trudy was murdered.”
“I was in LA. But I was here that morning. I didn’t find out until after I got back.”
“Were you here alone?”
“All morning.” Her cell phone rang again, and she pressed a button, silencing the ringer. “What motive could I possibly have to kill the woman?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out.”
“If I had to go to prison for murder, I’d at least make sure it was for something worthwhile, Sergeant, and Trudy Salvatori was not. She was a pain in my ass ever since they listed that damned property. All I needed her to do was sweet-talk her neighbor into cutting down that stupid eucalyptus grove so I could list the place as a bay view. And yes, I could have increased the price tag had it worked, but kill her for it? Uh, no.” Her phone vibrated on her desk, she picked it up, looked at the caller ID, then returned it to her desk. “Maybe the person you need to be looking at is Marcie. She, apparently, was incensed that Trudy would even ask. Or maybe that Trudy was stupid enough to have an affair with Marcie’s husband, thinking she could get him to convince Marcie to cut the damned trees down. I could have told Trudy she was wasting her time.”
“Why is that?” Al asked.
“Because Marcie’s husband has no say in the matter. The property and the parcel with all the eucalyptus behind it belongs solely to Marcie. I know, because I looked it up. Inheritance.”
“The parcel doesn’t belong to the city?”
She heaved a sigh. “Every last stinking eucalyptus tree and the ground beneath it belongs to Marcie, and Marcie alone. But she was adamant that as long as she was alive, it was staying in the family.”
Al and Casey looked at each other then Casey asked, “How much would something like that be worth? That parcel?”
“Alone? Not a lot, because there’s no access or easement to the road. But take a house in front to create an easement?” Her eyes lit up. “We’re talking the last piece of undeveloped property in the cit
y with an ocean view—well, once you raze those trees. That property in the right hands? Unprecedented bidding war.” And then a sigh of resignation. “Unfortunately, sentiment got in the way.”
“Sentiment?” Casey asked.
“Marcie’s. Like I said, she refused to sell—never mind she got into it with Trudy about those damned trees. I’d be a rich woman if it weren’t for stupid people.” She typed something on her keyboard, then turned her computer screen so they could see the security video of the morning in question. “Here you go. Me, the morning of the murder. The alarm company also has a copy, so in case you think I have some way to tamper with this feed, I don’t.” Her phone buzzed again, she picked it up, eyed the screen, then said, “Is there anything else? I have a business to run.”
Casey looked at Al. “You have anything?”
“Not at the moment,” Al said, and they left after instructing her to call if she thought of anything else she might have forgotten to mention.
“Okay, sport,” Al said, once they were outside. “If not her voice, then whose? Marcie’s? Because she’s the only one left.”
“Well, she’s certainly got motive. Her best friend’s sleeping with her husband. Wouldn’t be the first spurned spouse to off the other woman.”
They walked across the street to where they were parked, the Bay Bridge visible at the bottom of the hill. Casey unlocked the car, and Al opened his door but nodded at the vista below. “Another million-dollar view. Imagine if you could afford a place looking out at that.”
“You think Marcie would kill Trudy over the trees?”
“People have killed for less.” Al shook his head. “But if I had to pick a motive? The affair with Marcie’s husband seems more likely.”
“Good point,” Casey said, as they got into the car, then buckled their seat belts. Casey checked his mirror then pulled out. “And add that affair to the fact she’s already pissed that her friend’s trying to get her to cut down her grandfather’s legacy? That could work. But let’s say Marcie is our female voice. Who was she talking to?”
“That, College Boy, is the half-million-dollar question. And if I had to bank my money, I’d put it on the recipient of that life insurance policy.”
Lieutenant Timms was watching for them when they got back, and Casey realized the man looked as though he’d aged several years since that morning.
For that, Casey felt responsible. It had been a long day, and it seemed that with every step forward, they’d taken one back. A new piece of information seemed to fit, then it slipped away the more they looked into it.
And though they now had the cell phone records, unlike the Strangler case, there were no smoking guns like the video of the security guard to save this case.
Not to mention they had an angry congressman defending his campaign trail.
“Close the door,” Timms said.
Al pushed it shut, and they both took seats.
“Tell me you can make this case go away.”
“Not exactly,” Al said. “But we’re closer. And if it makes you feel better, we have other suspects besides the congressman.”
He nodded at Casey, who pulled out the reports they’d gotten from the phone company. “We finally got the records on that cellular found in Fife’s car. It triangulates to within the parameters of Marcie’s and Trudy’s house. We already know Marcie lied about leaving before Trudy. This just confirms it.”
Timms made a notation on a legal pad. “This is the call that Fife’s mother overheard?”
“It is,” Al said. “A man talking and a woman’s voice in the background.”
“Speculation on the voices?” Timms asked Al.
“Tony for the insurance. Parnell to silence her about the affair. Possibly his wife if she found out. Some as yet unknown person at his office regarding finances. And then there’s the neighbors, Marcie and Devin. Just the motive’s a little thinner there.”
“What about the real estate agent sleeping with Trudy’s husband?” Timms asked. “Any chance she was in collusion with him? Get rid of the wife, take the house off the market, and cash in that policy?”
“Except,” Casey said, “the real estate agent has security footage of her at her office, right around that time.”
Timms frowned at that. “So you think it’s possible that Marcie colluded with Trudy’s husband?”
“Possible,” Al said.
And Casey added, “She did lie about leaving the house before Trudy. We found the hat Trudy wore in her house, and when we booked Trudy’s purse, we found Marcie’s ID in it.”
The lieutenant tapped his pen on his desk, eyeing the two of them. “Marcie appears to be the common link.” He glanced up at the clock. “Bring her in tomorrow morning. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”
They started out, and Timms said, “Kellog.”
Casey stopped in the doorway, faced him.
“This thing with Parnell and the reporter…He filed a complaint with OPR. He thinks you’re the source.”
“I wasn’t.”
“It’s been a long day. You have the oral board tomorrow. Go home.”
Casey nodded. The thing that stuck with him as he returned to his desk was that Timms did not say he believed Casey. Just told him to go home.
Wasn’t much he could do about it. Wait it out, Al had said.
Secretly, though, he wondered if he should just skip the oral board tomorrow. Why bother showing up when the captain, a man who had a very big say about who was promoted, was being influenced by an angry politician? Besides, he was only taking it for practice, wasn’t he?
He locked his desk, refusing to answer that question himself.
“You out of here?” Al asked, watching him.
“Yeah.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Casey was nearly to his apartment when he realized he didn’t want to go home. He drove to his parents’ house instead.
His mother saw him pull up, then met him on the porch, her gaze widening when she saw his face. “Is that a bruise?” She reached up, touched his jaw. “How did that happen?”
“A bunch of us were tackling this guy during an arrest.”
She made a noise that implied she knew he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. But she didn’t pursue it, instead asking, “What are you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d visit.”
“What a nice surprise. Are you staying for dinner?”
“Depends. What are you having?”
“Leftovers. Spaghetti. Your dad’s playing poker tonight. So it’s just me.”
He followed her into the kitchen, opened the fridge, then pulled out a beer.
“How was work today?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said as he searched through the drawer for the bottle opener.
She walked over, plucked it out, and handed it to him. “You don’t look like it was fine. You look stressed. I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t be. Working as hard as you do. And with that big test tomorrow.”
“It’s just an interview. And I’m not sure if I’m going through with it.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve got a lot going on.”
“Have you talked to Al about it?”
“Why would I?”
“He’s supposed to be your mentor. That’s why they put you together.”
“It’s not a decision he can make for me.”’
“Well, I think you should. You know how I feel.”
“I know,” he said, pulling out a barstool and sitting at the counter.
“Turn on the TV.”
“The quiet’s nice, Mom.”
“Oh, nonsense. Who wants to hear me talk?” She walked over to the small TV on the kitchen counter and turned it on. “I’d rather hear the news.”
The last thing Casey wanted
to hear was the news, but he also didn’t want to worry his mother, so he sipped at his beer, and pretended interest in her reheating the spaghetti in the microwave. She looked up when she heard the sound bite on the arrest of the possible Landmark Strangler. “That has to have a lot of people relieved,” she said, watching the newscaster discuss how many murders he was suspected of. Then she eyed Casey. “Weren’t you involved in that case?”
“Just peripherally.”
She opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bag of prewashed lettuce, then placed a handful on two plates. “Do you want any cucumbers on your salad?”
“Sure,” he said, his gaze glued to the television as Congressman Parnell appeared.
“That poor man,” his mother said. “Having something like that happen in the middle of his campaign.”
“Yeah…”
She eyed Casey. “Are you part of that investigation?”
“You know I can’t talk about it.”
She reached over and turned up the volume.
Parnell’s voice filled the room. “What we have here is a travesty of justice. An overeager investigator using bullying tactics to make his case by threatening my staff. If you look into his history, you’ll see that he’s recently taken the lieutenant’s exam. He’s skewering me and my campaign to make a name for himself when he appears before the promotional board. Well, I’m here to say it’s not going to happen. He’ll have to find someone else to malign. I will not let a corrupt police detective dictate the direction of my campaign. I’m here to stay.”
“Casey…” he heard his mother say.
He held up his hand, wanting, needing to hear this. Wondering how much of a career he’d have left by tomorrow as the crowd of onlookers applauded the congressman’s words. A moment later, someone pushed his way to the front, calling out, “She was my wife!”
And when it seemed the congressman’s paid security were going to block the man, Parnell waved them off. “It’s okay. This is Mr. Salvatori, Trudy’s husband.” Parnell reached out as though to shake the man’s hand. “Mr. Salvatori—”
Tony Salvatori took a step forward, then swung at Parnell, hitting him in the face. “Maybe if you hadn’t slept with her, she’d—”
The Last Good Place Page 23
