Wrath in the Blood

by Ronald Watkins

  * * *

  ~

  There was a message for Goodnight to call Allen Stone, the claims manager for Combined Occidental Life Insurance Company. “How's your Swensen report coming?” Stone wanted to know, sounding agitated. “We handled the employee insurance for the company.”

  “I remember. I'm still working on it.”

  “Her husband was convicted?”

  “That's true. He's being sentenced tomorrow.”

  “So what's the delay? I'm getting lots of pressure from a ... Gerald Westby. He says he talked to you. He represents the decedent's sister. He says you're stalling so we can draw interest on his client's money a bit longer. He's talking law suit.”

  “I thought I'd have this wrapped up by now.”

  “What's the problem? I mean, the woman's dead, right? One way or another we're going to have to pay someone. When will you be ready?”

  “I'm not certain. As fast as I can.”

  “Look. I'm sure you know your business and all. Schiffman speaks highly of you but, this policy has been more trouble than it's worth all along. If I'm not getting heat from one lawyer I am from another. We waive your report. I'll put that in a letter if you want. I'm cutting a check.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “I know how it must look,” Paula Dinelli said as she sat back at her desk. “But I didn't steal Jack's business.”

  “I haven't suggested you did,” Goodnight said, searching for a place to put his hat.

  Dinelli extended her hand. “Here.” He handed the Stetson over and she laid it behind her on a credenza. Not for the first time was he reminded just how completely hat racks had disappeared from his world. Through the wall he could hear the clank of heavy steel, hammering and the muffled shouts of laborers. The office had the sharp smell of an acetylene torch.

  “It's just that Jack showed no interest in the business once he was in jail and we were losing accounts left and right. What with all the publicity we weren't getting any new business. Pete, that's Peter Kaufman, and I talked and decided we had to act to save the business. You can understand that? It was all perfectly legal. Despite everything, I care very much what happens to him. If things had been different I never would have considered doing what we did.”

  “What things are that?”

  “It's not important to why you are here.”

  “At this stage, ma'am, it's hard to say just what is or isn't important.”

  Dinelli hesitated then said, “All right. Jack trusted Mike Cushing, one of the estimators who used to work here, and Jodi Iverson, you probably remember her from the trial, everyone does, to run the firm. I thought...” She stopped and played with a black plastic pen.

  “You thought what?”

  “I don't wish to slander anyone. I thought Jack's trust was misplaced. Let's leave it at that.”

  “I see you've changed the name of the company to D & K Steel?”

  Dinelli's dark eyes rested on his for a long moment before she said. There was, he realized, a very different woman inside the facade she presented. “I'm sorry to hurry you, but I'm very pressed for time today. As I said when you called, I've told the police everything I know.” Her eyes shifted away. “This has been a tragedy all around.”

  “I take it you and the Swensens were quite close at one time.”

  “Yes, that's true.”

  “And as Jack Swensen's conduct become more unsavory you withdrew emotionally from them?”

  “What a quaint way of putting it. But yes, I'd say that's accurate. More from him than Leah, but from them both actually.”

  “I guess Jack Swensen might say you have it in for him.”

  “I understand that is exactly what he says.” The pen was suddenly beating like a drum stick. She placed it down on the desk in front of her then slowly crossed her arms. “But I can't help that. I'm sure Mrs. Swensen would approve of everything I've done. Look, if I had it in for Mr. Swensen I could have made things a lot worse for him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I didn't hold anything back at the trial, you understand?” she said after a long minute. “I didn't even remember until the trial and when I testified no one asked me about it.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The week after Leah was killed was horrible you must understand. Worse than you can imagine. Events were all jumbled together. After we set up this business, just before the trial began, I was working late and I scratched myself on the wrist moving boxes. That's when I remembered. The Monday after the murder was warm in the office. Jack had removed his jacket first, then he rolled up his shirt sleeves.” She stopped for a moment then smiled. “There was a long scratch along his forearm.”

  “You're certain? It couldn't have been another time?”

  She closed her eyes again. “I'm sure. When I did remember I didn't know what to do. I was afraid the police would think I had been holding back when actually I really only just then did remember. I decided I'd testify to it if asked, but no one did. Does that sound like I was out to get him?”

  “How did he get the scratch?”

  “I didn't ask. It's obvious now though, isn't it?” Her eyes became opaque. “He was convicted. The judge ordered his execution this morning. So what I remembered made no difference. He'd just have looked even guiltier.”

  ~

  Turning off Lincoln Drive, Goodnight stopped in front of the former Swensen house which was sitting in darkness. Jodi Iverson was leading an active life he decided. This was the second time he had hoped to find her home without success. Ramona Durlacher came to the door almost immediately after he pressed the doorbell. “Oh!” she said. “You again. How have you been?”

  Since getting the photograph from Morrison a question Adrian Lyon had raised months earlier nagged at Goodnight. “I've been just fine, ma'am. Just one question, ma'am. I don't need to come in, thank you. Where's Leah Swensen's cat? I believe its name was Scottie.”

  “Cat? I didn't know she had a cat. I told you before that I hardly knew her. There's been no cat around here, if that's what you're asking.”

  “You're certain?”

  “Oh yes. I love kitties, but my husband won't let me have one. Not with his allergies like they are.”

  “Do you think Miss Iverson has taken the cat in?”

  Durlacher seemed to sniff. “Hardly.”

  Goodnight waited longer at the Ruman house before Kathleen opened the door. She looked stronger, rested. “Hello! I was just leaving. Will this take long?”

  “I just wanted to check up on my patient. How are you?”

  “Better. A little shaky.” She looked at him directly, her eyes steady. “I'm going to my AA meeting. I should never have stopped. Now that I've got up my nerve I don't want to be late.”

  “I won't keep you. Just one question. What happened to the Swensen cat?”

  Ruman shook her head. “I don't know anything about a cat. Did she have one?”

  “Yes. Has a cat been hanging around the house?”

  “I've not seen any. I'm sorry. Anything else?”

  “No. You take care.”

  “I'm trying. Thanks again. And drop by when I have more time.”

  ~

  Goodnight was in his office not five minutes when Gerald Westby called. “My client would like to know what the delay is about, Mr. Goodnight. You said you'd have a report finished days ago and she's still waiting. Sorry to press you on this, but it is important.”

  “I've run into some unanswered questions I'd like to clear up first. I do apologize for the inconvenience.”

  “Stone with Combined Occidental saw the sense of it and they've made payment.”

  “It would be a help if I could meet with Lana Dahl.”

  “If it was up to me you could fly out here, spend the weekend at my ranch north of town here, and get all your questions asked. But it isn't up to me. I know I told you I'd do anything I could to cooperate but Lana really does want to stay out of this. You've had yourselves a regular medi
a frenzy out there.”

  “It's hardly been that. If I were to meet with her I think we could have this cleared up without further delay.”

  “Have what cleared up? You've got me confused here.”

  “My concerns.”

  “To be honest, I don't see how you could possibly have any concerns. A man's been sentenced to death for killing the insured. What more do you want? Look, I'm trying to be reasonable here, but you have to understand that meeting with my client is out of the question. She doesn't want to be pestered. I can talk to her but frankly I don't think it will do any good. I'm afraid I have to give you notice that I'm filing a lawsuit and issuing a press statement condemning the insurance companies if the funds aren't released forthwith. My client has suffered a terrible loss and it is cruel of you and the insurance companies to play games with her. At least that's what the lawsuit and press release will say.” Westby added the last with a chuckle.

  When Goodnight had been a ranger the threat of a lawsuit had usually been idle and even when it actually occurred a state attorney had no trouble dealing with it. But he had learned how differently such matters were viewed by insurance companies. They abhorred lawsuits and often paid uncertain claims rather than face them.

  The reality was that jurors never sympathized with the insurance companies and would nearly always side with the unpaid claimant. Lawyers knew that threatening a suit, and in this case a press release to create adverse publicity, was an effective club. One of the insurance companies had already caved in; the others wouldn't be far behind.

  “I can only assure you that I'm working as fast as I can. Meeting with Miss Dahl would be a big help.”

  “I wish I could help, I really do. Honestly, I think my client's overreacting here but what can I do? I guess we've both got our jobs to do.”

  ~

  That afternoon Goodnight sat on his patio stroking Morris and smoking a Por Larranaga Lonesdale. A front had moved across the city the previous night and broken the heat. There was at last the scent of fall in the air. Conchita, fresh from a shower and smelling of soap, wrapped deliciously in a towel, asked what was bothering him. “Is it that Swensen case?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you up to with it? I thought you said you had other cases you should be working on.” She sat on the chair beside him, the towel falling open to expose a thigh.

  “I do. I don't really know what I'm after. I've read the police reports three times now. I've talked with many of the witnesses. It's a good case. I've developed even more information that indicates he killed her.” He told Conchita about the scratch on Swensen's forearm.

  “So what's wrong then?”

  “The case doesn't feel right. It's more like a story in a book than any murder I've ever heard of.” He drew on the cigar and Conchita wrinkled her nose. “It's all soap opera. Ever since I got off the telephone with that Texas lawyer representing the sister it's bothered me that he doesn't want me to meet with her. He's friendly enough but why shouldn't I talk to her? Unless there is a very good reason for me not to.”

  “Like what?”

  He smiled slowly. “I don't want to say.”

  Conchita laughed. “You men. Always worried about looking foolish. So tell me, are you going to talk to him? The husband, I mean. You know criminals. Just from talking to him I'll bet you can tell if he is guilty or not.”

  “I ought to I guess. I got a call today from Al Schiffman. Westby's faxed him demanding immediate payment of the two outstanding claims. He's thinking about authorizing them whether or not I approve.”

  “Are you coming to Rosa's tonight?”

  “Just to walk you home. I've got some thinking to do.” Morris rolled to expose his belly for a rub.

  “Worry, you mean. If you keep this up you'll get old before your time.”

  ~

  Two hours after Conchita left for work Goodnight drove to see Susan Merriott, Leah Swensen's closest friend according to the police reports. She lived in a modest, obviously furnished apartment in one of many complexes overlooking an arroyo called Indian Bend Wash in central Scottsdale. The area had been a chronic flooding plain until the city built a series of retaining dams then converted the arroyo into a string of golf courses and parks.

  Merriott was not much over five feet tall, approaching 30, and was one of those perky natural blonds grown too old to be a cheerleader. She would have an awkward time in her middle years, being neither old nor young, then would emerge as a kindly diminutive grandmother. She explained that she had just put her son down and he might interrupt them occasionally. “The divorce has been difficult on him.”

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Goodnight said as he took his offered place on the couch.

  “I wasn't doing anything special. You said you wanted to know about Leah Swensen? I knew her mostly as Leah Dahl.”

  “When did you two meet?”

  “At Arizona State University. We were sorority sisters and lived in the same dorm our senior year. She had attended college in Texas and transferred here to finish. She'd joined the sorority back there. I was assigned to be her sister and help her adjust. We became friends.”

  “What was she like?”

  Merriott sat with her hands neatly folded on her lap, leaning forward in her seat. “Quiet. Studious. She read a lot. I can still see her lugging books with her everywhere. She could be very funny, especially after a glass of wine.”

  “You knew Jack Swensen?”

  “Not well. Leah met him after graduating. She was working at a steel company where Jack also worked. We double dated a bit, but by then Leah and I weren't seeing as much of each other. I was really surprised to learn they had married.”

  “Why was that?”

  Merriott shrugged. “I had no idea they were moving so fast. They'd been dating less than a year. Leah was very conservative. I never thought she would make such an important decision so quickly.”

  “Did you attend the wedding?”

  “No. They eloped to Las Vegas. That was another surprise.”

  “Did you ever meet any of Leah's family?”

  “No. She wasn't close to them and didn't talk about her parents or anyone much. I think her parents were dead anyway.”

  “How about a sister? Lana?”

  “She never mentioned a sister, but then I don't think I ever mentioned my no account brother. She was a very private person.”

  “Do you recall anything about her family?”

  “No-o. Oh yes, I remember. She had a grandmother who was diabetic. A girl in the dorm was also diabetic and Leah helped her with her shots sometimes.”

  “Helped?”

  “She did them. Very professional. I said something about it but Leah was very matter of fact. I guess her grandmother died and the whole thing with needles and all wasn't a pleasant experience for her.”

  “I don't suppose you can suggest any way I could reach Lana Dahl in Ft. Worth?”

  “The phone book?” She laughed lightly.

  “I've tried. There's no listing.”

  “Why is all this important?”

  “Would you have any reason to think Leah Swensen could be devious or vindictive?”

  Her eyes grew round. “What a peculiar question!”

  “You didn't like Jack Swensen I take it?”

  “He had a roving eye. Like most men.” She said it like an accusation.

  “You stayed in touch with Leah after she was married?”

  “Not really. First, she was busy with her new job, then helping set up the company. Then last Christmas, almost exactly a year ago, she called and wanted to go to lunch. I was really shocked when I saw her. She'd put on some weight and she looked...”

  “Looked?”

  “I was going to say hard, but now that I think about it she looked under a strain. She was pretty unhappy in the marriage and she knew I had just divorced. I think she wanted to know what life was like after.” A child's voice called out through a door
. “Excuse me. I'm being summoned.”

  Merriott went down the short hall and entered a bedroom. He could hear her muffled voice through the walls. Then a child's voice sounding half asleep. She returned to the living room with a smile. “You have children, Mr. Goodnight?”

  “I had a son. He died a few years ago.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry. Your only child?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked back at the bedroom, then turned to him and said, “Where were we?”

  “When did Leah Swensen tell you she was afraid of her husband?”

  “That first lunch we had. She told me that Jack abused her, though he was kind enough not to hit her where it showed.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  “Of course! Why would she lie about something like that? She was a very proud person. It wasn't easy for her to confide in me. I told her to leave the rat. We had lunch twice more before... Well, before she... was gone and I told her the same thing each time.”

  “Do you have Leah's cat, Scottie?”

  “No. She sure did love that cat. She showed me pictures of him like he was her baby.”

  It was late when Goodnight rose to leave. He had learned little more in the extra hour Merriott gave him. But when he bid her goodbye she checked on her son, then locked the door to her apartment and walked slowly with him towards his car, chatting away about absolutely nothing, dangling her keys in her hand.

  As they approached his car Merriott stopped and said, “I want to be honest with you, Mr. Goodnight. But I don't want you to think I'm speaking ill of the dead. Because that isn't what I think.” Her face was hidden in deep shadows.

  “I understand.”

  “I wasn't really all that good a friend of Leah's. I don't think she had any close friends. She was a bit of snob, with her books and everything. One day I teased her about reading all the time and playfully pulled her book down. She was furious. Behind the text book she had a paperback. True crime. One of those gory things you see in supermarkets with blood dripping from an ax. She loved reading about sleazy murders but didn't want anyone to know. She didn't talk to me for a month after that.”