“Check with me at the end of the day,” Richmond told her. “I might have something for you by then.”
“Okay, but I’m going to hold you to that,” Alison said. Then she disappeared back into the crowd in the break room, looking for a photo op.
Blake Sutherland was already in the conference room waiting for us. She looked like she had just stepped out of the latest issue of Vogue or Cosmopolitan. Her chestnut-colored hair was sleek and smooth, accented with caramel highlights. Her dark brown eyes were masterfully done with shadows, liners, and mascara that magnified their color and shape without looking overdone. She was tall and slender, and dressed in tight-fitting, dark green slacks, brown pumps, and a tailored tan blouse that hugged her tiny waist and emphasized her ample bust. She was thoroughly pedicured and manicured and smelled divine. It wasn’t hard to understand what Wendy saw in her. Blake Sutherland was a thoroughbred.
Her culture and manners were apparent almost immediately. She sat in a chair with her back ramrod straight, one leg crossed over the other. She folded her hands in her lap and showed us a pleasant smile that may or may not have been genuine. Richmond did the introductions and informed her that our talk would be recorded. “Of course,” she said with that pleasant smile. She looked over at me as I settled into my chair and said, “Ms. Winston, you have the most amazing blue eyes. I always wanted blue eyes. Brown is so . . . earthy.” Her lip curled in disgust when she said the word “earthy.” Clearly it wasn’t a good thing in her mind.
“Thank you,” I said, wondering if she was trying to pave her way by plying me with false flattery. Frankly, I didn’t care.
“Please tell me how I can be of help to you,” Blake said, shifting her gaze to Richmond.
“I’m guessing Wendy Ames filled you in already?” Richmond said.
Most people would have hesitated, wondering if they should lie, but Blake answered without hesitation. “Yes, she did. She called me Saturday night right after they’d been notified. She slipped into the bathroom so she could speak to me in private. It’s a terrible thing that happened to Derrick. He is . . . was a decent, kind man.”
“You’ve met him?” Richmond said, looking surprised.
“Uh, no,” Blake answered, with a guilty smile. At least she had the sense to look abashed. “But I’ve heard Wendy talk about him a lot. When you have two people who are caught up in an acrimonious breakup like theirs was, and they manage to set aside their own petty disagreements and differences for the sake of their children, that speaks volumes about the characters of the people involved. Derrick always put his boys first, and he’s worked really hard over the past year to make the split as easy as possible for the kids. Frankly, he was much more mature about things in the beginning than Wendy was, but she came around pretty quickly.”
“Did the two of them ever fight?” Richmond asked.
“I’ve never seen the two of them together, but based on what Wendy told me they argued from time to time, like any couple does. I think that happened more in the beginning, but over the past few months things settled down, especially after Wendy agreed to share custody.”
“Have you and Wendy been involved since the split?”
“We’ve been involved since before the split,” she said, without shame or embarrassment. “In fact, it was our relationship that led to the split. We didn’t mean for it to happen; it just did. Neither of us has ever been involved in a relationship like this before, but when we met, something just clicked. It’s hard to explain.”
“How did you meet?” Richmond asked.
“I do some interior design work, and Wendy hired me when she wanted to remodel the kitchen in that old Victorian they lived in. The kitchen never did get done, and when Wendy left Derrick, she also left the house. She said she never liked the place, that it was Derrick who was into the older home styles. Wendy’s tastes are much more modern.”
“How did Derrick find out about the two of you?” I asked.
“Wendy told him. She said he didn’t seem too upset until she told him she planned to move out and take the boys with her. Derrick went ballistic with that. He didn’t want the divorce, but once he realized Wendy was determined to go through with it, he focused on his relationship with his boys. Wendy played hardball at first, but I convinced her to back down on the custody issue because Derrick was threatening to go to my husband about the whole thing. Once Wendy agreed to share custody, Derrick seemed to reach a level of acceptance that let him move on. After that, their relationship got much better.”
“Derrick may have accepted things, but his son Jacob didn’t,” I said.
Blake looked appropriately concerned as she nodded. “Yes, Wendy has told me about Jacob’s determination to get the two of them back together. I feel bad for the boy. I’m sure he doesn’t understand how futile it is for him to want that, particularly since Wendy hasn’t told either of the boys about her and me. I have to give Derrick credit. As far as I know he never trashed Wendy to his boys, nor did he rat her out.”
“And I assume your husband doesn’t know either?” I said.
Now she did look embarrassed. “He does not, and Wendy and I would like to keep it that way for now. At the risk of sounding like a callous gold digger, I’m not willing to give up my current lifestyle, and the money comes in handy for Wendy, too. She doesn’t make much at that insurance company she works for. I hope I can count on your discretion in this matter?”
“Wendy doesn’t mind sharing you with your husband?”
“It works for us for now.”
Richmond and I looked at one another, and then he said, “Mrs. Sutherland, can you tell us where you were on Saturday night between the hours of six and eight?”
“Yes, I can. My husband and I were having dinner at that new French restaurant on Capitol Square in Madison, the one that just opened? We left there around seven-thirty. The maître d’ is a friend of mine, and I’m sure he’ll vouch for our time there.”
Richmond took down the name of the maître d’, and after a couple of basic contact questions, he let Blake go.
“This job never fails to surprise me,” Richmond said once she was gone. “But surprises or not, Blake Sutherland seems like a dead end. Let’s hope we do better with the Ames family.”
“It may not be a dead end,” I said. “I didn’t realize Wendy Ames works for an insurance company. Makes me wonder if she took out life insurance on Derrick, and if she did is it still active? And who are the beneficiaries?”
“Good question,” Richmond said. “We’ll have to ask Wendy about that, and in the meantime I’ll get Hurley to look into it, too.”
The Ames family lawyer was the antithesis of Lucien—at least the old Lucien. Whereas Lucien was typically dressed in wrinkled, worn, and stained clothing, this guy, who announced his arrival with a terse “Stanley Barber the Third”—with emphasis on the Third, as if that was supposed to mean something to us—had on a navy-blue pin-striped suit that included pants with a crease sharp enough to cut cheese. Lucien was also known for cutting cheese, but in his case it was a bodily function rather than any type of fashion statement. Stanley’s shirt was spotless, and when he removed his jacket I saw the telltale creases of a professional laundry service. His shoes were highly polished, shiny enough that he could have checked the status of his neatly coiffed hair in their reflection. I couldn’t help but wonder if Blake Sutherland’s money was paying for Stanley Barber the Third.
Stanley breezed into the interrogation room with a practiced authority and placed his alligator-skin briefcase on the table. He opened it, keeping it turned so we couldn’t see its contents, sat down in a chair with his back ramrod straight, and folded his hands on the table. The one thing he did have in common with Lucien was what I call the lawyer smile. It’s the same predatory, sly smile you see on the faces of Mafia henchmen in movies, right before they seal someone’s feet in concrete and toss them in the East River.
Wendy looked nervous, Michael looked sad, and Jacob loo
ked bored and indifferent. Today Jacob was wearing dark blue jeans and a red T-shirt with ZOMBIES HATE FAST FOOD written on it. I looked down at his shoes. They were high-tops, with the laces undone. I saw Richmond glance at Jacob’s footwear as well, and the two of us exchanged a frustrated look when we realized they weren’t the shoes we had seen in the video.
There was some juggling for seats, and when it was all done, Wendy was to Stanley’s left, with Jacob and Michael to her left. As soon as everyone was in position, Stanley spoke to us with his head tilted back ever so slightly, giving the impression that he was looking down his nose at us. It wouldn’t have surprised me to know that he was doing just that, if for no other reason than simply because of the way Richmond and I were dressed. Richmond was between sizes in his clothes because of the weight he had lost, and it had left him wearing baggy stuff that tended to make him look like a sloppy, shapeless blob. I was in the same situation with regard to being between sizes, but for the opposite reason. I wasn’t ready to start wearing my maternity clothes just yet, and my old clothes fit snugly enough that I feared making any unusual or sudden moves lest I burst a seam somewhere and expose some part of my ever-growing body. Plus my creases, unlike Stanley’s, came from being folded up inside a suitcase, not from a laundry service.
“My client, Wendy Ames, understands that you wish to question her son Jacob regarding his whereabouts on the day of his father’s demise,” Stanley said in a nasal, snobby tone. “You may question him at this time, but he will not answer any questions unless I tell him to.” He said this with a pointed look at Jacob, making me suspect that Wendy’s eldest might not want to play ball. This suspicion grew even stronger when I looked over at Jacob. He appeared sullen, angry, and ready to explode. His nose flared with every breath, his right leg was jiggling nervously, and the muscles in his jaw were twitching. I had a sense that with a little provocation he would explode like fireworks on the Fourth of July. And provocation is something I excel at.
“You may begin,” Stanley said in his haughty tone.
Richmond hit the button under the table edge that started the AV recording rolling. It made me think of Hurley spending time with Charlie, and my mood plummeted. I shook it off and refocused on the task at hand.
After a brief intro to note the day, the time, the people present, and the case this interview was for, Richmond said, “Jacob, your brother told us you left the house in the late afternoon on the day of your father’s death during the time that your mother was out. Is that true?”
Jacob shot his brother a nasty look, and I felt bad for the younger boy.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Stanley said.
“No, you don’t,” Richmond said. “We already know you were there. Not only did some of your father’s neighbors see you arrive and leave in a huff, they heard the two of you exchange heated words.” Richmond looked over at Stanley. “We have several neighbors who are willing to sign affidavits verifying this.”
Stanley’s pompous expression faltered just a smidge, and he leaned over and whispered something into Wendy’s ear. Wendy nodded and then looked at Jacob. “Go ahead and tell them what you told me.”
“Yeah, I went over to my dad’s house.”
“And the two of you had a disagreement?” Richmond posed.
“I saw him in bed with another woman,” Jacob said in a sneering tone. “It made me mad.”
“Who was the woman?” Richmond asked.
“Ollie Terwilliger’s mom, Mandy.”
Richmond looked over at Wendy. “Did you know Derrick was seeing her?”
“You don’t have to answer that,” Stanley said.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Wendy said, looking at her lawyer. “I don’t have anything to hide, Stanley. And, yes,” she said, shifting her gaze back to Richmond, “I did know that Derrick was seeing her.”
Wendy reached over and placed a hand on her son’s arm, but he immediately pulled away from her. “Jacob, honey, I’ve told you before that your dad and I are never going to get back together.”
“What bullshit!” Jacob yelled, shooting his mother a nasty look. I could tell he was trying not to cry. “You didn’t even try. Maybe if you’d put a little effort into it, he wouldn’t have found himself a girlfriend.”
“Your father and I did try, but it just didn’t work,” Wendy said with a sympathetic but pained expression. “I’ve explained this to you before. So has your father.”
“Whatever,” Jacob mumbled. He folded his arms over his chest and slammed back in his chair, grinding his teeth.
“We talked to the mother of the boy whose house you said you were going to that night—to play some video games, I believe it was?” Richmond said.
Jacob eyed him angrily. “Yeah, so? Is it against the law to play video games now?”
“Jacob!” Wendy pivoted in her chair and faced her son. “There is no need for the snotty tone.”
Richmond kept at the boy. “She said you were there, but that you and Sean didn’t eat dinner. I know you were climbing out the window of your bedroom at home to sneak around. Any chance you did the same thing at Sean’s house?”
“Don’t answer that question,” Stanley said. Then he leaned forward and eyed Richmond. “I need to confer with my client before we continue this.”
I sensed that we were about to lose any advantage we had, so I jumped in. “Did you go back to your dad’s house that night before you went home, Jacob?” I asked. “Were you so mad about him and Mandy Terwilliger that you went back and got in a fight?”
Jacob squirmed, and I could tell I was getting under his skin. I think Stanley sensed it, too, because he objected again, louder this time, and with a pointed look at Jacob. “Don’t answer that question!”
I tried again. “Did you get so mad during the fight that you killed him?”
It was enough to push Jacob over the edge. He thrust himself out of his chair and leaned across the table, getting in my face. “Screw you!” he yelled. “I went for a walk to clear my head. You stupid police people don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Jacob!” Wendy yelled. She tugged on her son’s sleeve, but he brushed her off angrily.
“We have you on video,” Richmond said. “Your father had a video camera, and it either fell or got knocked down between the fridge and the cabinet. And it turned on. It filmed you, Jacob. It shows you struggling with your father right around the time he was stabbed.”
“You assholes think you’re so smart, but you don’t know anything,” Jacob said. Then he stormed from the room.
Stanley Barber the Third snapped his briefcase closed, stood up, and said, “We’re done here.” He turned to Wendy. “Let’s go.”
Wendy stood slowly, looking stunned. “Do you really have him on video?” she asked.
Richmond didn’t answer her, and Stanley said, “I suspect it was just a bluff, an attempt to make Jacob confess, which he didn’t do because he’s innocent.”
“It isn’t a bluff,” Richmond said.
“Then are you placing him under arrest?” Stanley asked. He looked far too smug, meaning he knew the answer.
Richmond said nothing, and after a few seconds, Michael started to cry. Wendy walked over and hugged him. “It will be okay, honey,” she said. “Come on.”
Michael stood, still sobbing. “Did Jake kill Dad?” he asked.
“Be quiet, boy,” Stanley snapped, then he quickly ushered the trio from the room.
“Well, that was interesting,” Richmond said once they were gone.
“Did I mess things up by provoking the kid?”
“Not at all. It showed us how short Jacob’s fuse is.”
“So what’s next?”
“I’m hoping my search warrant for the Ames house will come through any minute now. In the meantime, I want to look into the insurance situation and see if Junior dug up anything of interest about Derrick’s finances. And we should give the lab a call to see if they’ve found any unexpected fingerprints o
r blood evidence in Derrick’s house. At some point we should verify Mandy Terwilliger’s alibi and confirm that she was working, but no rush on that. My money’s on Jacob, and if he did it, confirming any other alibis is more a matter of eliminating reasonable doubt than it is anything else.”
As we stepped out of the interview room, we ran into Hurley and Charlie in the hallway.
“Wow, you must have really pissed that kid off,” Hurley said. “He stormed out of here like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. Think he’s good for it?”
“Maybe,” Richmond said. “Probably. We have video of someone struggling with the victim at the time of the murder. It only shows the feet, but the shoes are distinctive, and there’s a mark on them that should make the specific pair easy to identify. The kid wasn’t wearing them here today, but I bet we’ll find them in his house. I don’t think he’s smart enough to have ditched them.”
Charlie gave Hurley a gentle elbow in his ribs. “See, I told you videos are going to be the wave of the future in crime solving.”
Hurley smiled back at her, which made me frown.
Richmond said, “It certainly will make a difference in this case. Let me show you.” We headed into the shared office, and Richmond pulled up the video Arnie had sent. Hurley sat in the chair to watch it, and unfortunately Charlie watched it, too, standing behind and to one side of Hurley, leaning in close, and putting a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re right,” Hurley said when the video was done. “Those shoes are pretty distinctive.”
“Plus there’s some mystery surrounding the victim’s cell phone,” Richmond said. “It wasn’t on him, wasn’t in the house, and can’t be found anywhere. If we’re lucky, the kid will have that, too.”
For the next half hour, Richmond brought Hurley and Charlie up to speed on the case and where we were so far in the investigation. A talk with Junior revealed that there were no irregularities he could find in Derrick’s finances. A call to the lab offered up nothing new either. But Hurley’s call to the insurance company struck gold.
Stiff Penalty (A Mattie Winston Mystery) Page 19
