by V. B. Tenery
Matt grinned. “I’ll try to live with it. You folks ready to get started?”
After everyone sat, Davis pointed a finger at Chris Hunter. “Let the B-Team go first.”
Chris glanced at Matt. “Just in case you didn’t know, the B stands for best. Okay, enough frivolity. The cell phone stats showed something interesting. Art Davenport made four calls to Dr. Stephen Russell in Oklahoma over the past two weeks. Just to refresh your memory, that’s his ex-son-in-law, Eden Russell’s husband. The calls lasted more than five minutes each.”
“Good work, Chris, Cole,” Matt said. “Which pair wants to make the scenic drive to Oklahoma City to talk to Dr. Russell, find out what those calls were about?”
Lucy Turner’s brow wrinkled. “I’d rather work the investigation from here.”
Lucy’s abusive ex lived in Oklahoma, and she didn’t want him to know where she and her sons were living. He was under a restraining order, but the daily news proved just how much that piece of paper was worth.
“You got it. Chris, that means you and Cole get to make the trip.”
Chris gave Matt a two-finger salute. “No problem, as long as the weather stays clear. Otherwise, as Cole’s wise mentor, I’ll let him drive.”
Cole shook his head. “You’re so full of it, Chris. You just like passing down all the dirty jobs to the new kid.”
Chris barked a laugh. “That, too.”
“Not to interrupt Comedy Central, but, Davis, what do you and Turner have?” Matt asked.
“Mostly, a lot of questions,” Davis said. “According to Claire and Eden Russell, there were only two items missing from the Davenport residence, an heirloom pendent and their mom’s engagement ring. Apparently because those items were the most valuable. Makes you wonder how the killer came by that information. Neither of the sisters had any idea what was in Art’s briefcase, nor why he might have burned the contents.”
Turner flipped her notebook open. “Nothing unusual about their financial records, except that they were doing very well. And the will was straightforward.” She looked over at Davis. “I’ve brought the murder book up to date.”
She turned to Chris. “I need copies of the phone records.”
He passed her a handful of papers. “Here you go, milady.”
“Lucy and I have an appointment to interview Eden Russell at her condo this afternoon.” Davis removed a sheaf of papers, and squared the corners. He tapped the pile with his index finger. “These are reports from VICAP and the Texas violent crimes data base for similar cases over the past two years. Not as many as I feared there would be, but enough to keep us busy. I’ll split them with Chris so we can narrow it down quickly.”
He divided the stack in half and Chris grabbed the closest pile.
“I spoke to Judge Bittermann yesterday,” Matt said. “Nothing much there, except Eden and her mother were not on the best of terms, for whatever that’s worth.
“I’m going to catch a flight to Houston and visit Dr. Alden Davenport, Art’s younger brother, see if he can shed any light on who might have wanted his brother dead.”
Matt pushed back his chair and stood. “If that’s all, I’ll see you folks tomorrow morning.”
Home of Eden Russell
Twin Falls, Texas
Davis pressed the white button mounted on the jamb and rang the doorbell at Eden Russell’s condo. The ring didn’t sound inside. Perhaps out of order. He waited a minute and, when she didn’t answer, he knocked.
“You think she left?” Turner asked. “She did know we were coming, right?”
“She knew.” Davis raised his hand to knock again just as the door opened.
“Sorry,” Eden said, breathless. “We’re remodeling the upstairs bedrooms, and I barely heard the knock. The bell is broken, but it’s on our to-be-repaired list.”
Davis wondered who we and our were, but didn’t ask. “Our condolences for your loss, Mrs. Russell. We have a few questions we need to ask you. May we come in?”
“Sure. Sorry. I’m just a little frazzled, with my parents’ death and the remodeling. Would you like something to drink? The kitchen is in good shape.”
“Nothing for me, but, before we get started, may I use your restroom?” Turner asked.
“Of course.” She pointed down a corridor, past the stairs. “It’s just down the hallway on the right.”
“Nothing for me, either, thanks,” Davis said. No sign of a grieving daughter here. She seemed almost chipper.
The large living room smelled of varnish and turpentine. Leather sofa, love seat, and oversized chair were good quality, but covered with a light film of sawdust. A desktop computer sat on a corner desk, the screensaver a camouflage Hummer.
Eden ushered him in and wiped dust from the sofa so they could sit. “Have a seat, and please excuse the mess.”
Davis checked out the magazines on the table. Mostly military field gear and weapons. Hopefully not reading material for her kids.
Turner rejoined them and sat beside him.
A tall, muscular man wearing jeans and a white T-shirt with a tool belt cinched at his waist came down the stairs. Two young boys followed him. He wore a full, well-trimmed beard on his olive-toned face. His dark eyes narrowed as he looked from Davis to Turner, then back to Davis. He stepped forward and stretched out his hand. “I’m Jim Bauer, Eden’s cousin, as well as her attorney.”
Davis shook his hand. “She doesn’t need a lawyer. We just want to ask some general questions about her parents.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m also her carpenter.” He sat on a bar stool, his eyes focused on Eden. The boys took seats on each side of him.
Although the boys were twins, they looked nothing alike, except in size. One was fair, the other dark. They sat in silence, occasionally glancing at him and Turner with intelligent eyes.
“Where can we reach you, Mr. Bauer?” Turner asked.
Bauer grabbed a card holder off the bar, removed one, and handed it to Lucy. “That’s my office address. It also lists my cell number.”
“And your home address?” Turner asked.
He rattled off a street address, and Turner logged it in her notebook.
“When was the last time you spoke to either of your parents?” Davis asked Eden.
She spread her hands and shrugged. “It’s been more than a month.” Subtle, cool anger flashed quickly in her blue eyes before it disappeared just as fast. “I wasn’t really close to them.”
“Why not?” Davis asked.
“Eden, I advise you not to answer that,” Bauer said.
“It’s okay, Jim,” Eden said, “my differences with my parents are common knowledge within the family. If I don’t tell them, someone else will.
“There were many things that came between us. They tried to interfere in how I live my life, tried to choose my friends, and sided with my ex-husband in our custody battle, just to name a few.”
That could explain her indifference to their deaths. Even so, it seemed a little cold-blooded to Davis. “To your knowledge, did they have any enemies, anyone who might want them dead?”
“I’ve given it some thought.” She paused to look at Bauer, then back at Davis. “You see…my ex-husband has Mafia connections. He knew my parents were wealthy; perhaps he hoped to get his hands on the boys’ inheritance.”
Bauer nodded.
“Do you have any proof of that?” Davis asked.
She shook her head. “No, but it’s well-known in Oklahoma City.”
“Can you tell us about your schedule the days before and after the murders?”
“Don’t answer that, Eden,” Bauer said. “She’ll provide you with a written response once I’ve had a chance to look it over.”
“I don’t have anything to hide, Jim,” she said.
“Nevertheless, I want to look over your schedule and make sure it’s correct.”
She shrugged and stared down at the floor. Davis wondered if she was angry with her cousin fo
r interrupting her a second time.
“Can you tell us where you were last weekend, Mr. Bauer?” Davis asked.
“Yes, I was at the Indian casino in Durant, Oklahoma with a buddy, Earl Locke. We spent three days there then drove home Monday around noon.”
“Do you have his phone number?”
Bauer checked his cell phone and read off the number.
“How are the accommodations at the casino?” Davis feigned ignorance, although he’d been to the casino many times.
“Comparable to mid-size hotels in Vegas,” Bauer replied, “doesn’t have the bling of Vegas but the win/lose margins are about the same. Do you want a copy of my hotel receipt? It’s in my briefcase upstairs.”
“Yeah, we’d like to have it, if you don’t mind,” Davis said. “We just need to confirm the alibis of those close to the family.”
It took only a minute for Bauer to return with the paper. He handed it to Turner.
“Thanks.” Davis stood and Turner followed. “If you think of anything that might help, give me a call.” He handed Eden his card.
Davis didn’t bother to offer his condolences again. Apparently, she didn’t need them.
*****
Turner steered the black sedan away from the condo. “Did that seem a little strange to you?”
“Very,” Davis said. “Did you notice the motion detector and floodlights rigged above the door? That would blind anyone trying to enter undetected. Could just be a paranoid prepper or survivalist precaution, but, coupled with the weapon magazines, I think we need to take a closer look at Mr. Bauer. Anything interesting in the bathroom?”
“Birth control pills, aspirin, over-the-counter cold remedies, and migraine headache pills. No drugs or prescription meds,” she said.
Turner made the turn around the old county courthouse on the square. “Do you buy her story about her ex-husband’s Mafia connections?”
“It sounded like a bitter ex-wife attempting to discredit her former spouse. But I’ll ask Chris and Cole to check it out while they’re in Oklahoma. Can’t see that a guy in the Mafia would need to steal money from his kids. Let’s also get copies of the paperwork on the divorce and ongoing custody battle. See what that’s all about.”
“I didn’t like the fact she made the charge against her husband in front of his kids,” Turner said, “and perhaps it’s just my suspicious nature, but I think we need to ask the neighbors about the relationship between Eden and Bauer. It looked a little too cozy for cousins.”
The Foley Residence
Twin Falls, Texas
Sara picked up the children at school and drove back to Matt’s place. Thank Heaven he had given her the Jeep this morning. Roads had frozen over since last night and the Jeep held the road without skidding.
The housekeeper’s blue Focus sat in the driveway. Sara pushed the garage door opener and pulled inside as the door lifted clear. At least they wouldn’t have to navigate their way up the snow-and-ice-covered front steps.
Rowdy jumped out of the car and headed inside, the children behind him with their backpacks. “You guys get your homework done by the fire before dinner,” Sara said.
Stella met them at the kitchen entrance. “I wasn’t expecting you and the children this evening. I only made dinner for Matt.”
“That’s my fault. I should have called. Could you make pancakes and sausage for Poppy and Danny? That will be easy, and they love breakfast food for dinner. Beatrice made chicken soup for me, seems like I’m coming down with something.” Sara placed the soup in the fridge.
Stella nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. She didn’t look happy, but by now she should realize Matt would no longer be eating dinner alone.
Sara’s brow felt flushed with heat and her head pounded with a dull ache. She headed to the bedroom and changed into PJs and robe then went back downstairs. A loud voice made her head towards the kitchen.
Stella stood at the island, her back to Sara, pouring apple juice into two glasses with quick, angry movements. A white-faced Danny stood at her side. “You are NOT to come into this kitchen and help yourself. If you need something, you ask me and I’ll get it.” She slapped the breakfast food onto the island surface beside the juice. “Eat in here. I don’t want food all over the hardwood floors.”
Heat ran up Sara’s face that wasn’t from her fever. She didn’t want Danny to see, so she took two deep breaths, calmed her voice, and strode into the kitchen. She jerked the food from the counter. “I think it’ll be okay to let them eat on the coffee table by the fire tonight. They’re really very neat with food.”
Stella’s eyes widened, her mouth set in a grim line, but she didn’t say anything.
Plates in hand, Sara carried the food into the living room and deposited it on the low table. She tousled Danny’s blond curls. “Here you go, Champ. I’ll bring your drinks right back.”
Sara brought their drinks and returned to the kitchen. Matt’s home had an open floor plan, with the great room, kitchen, and dining room all visible from any area. A game room opened off to the left. Sara didn’t want to confront the housekeeper in front of the kids. “Stella, may I see you for a moment in here?” She held the door open.
Stella didn’t answer, but she followed Sara and shut the door behind her.
Sara took a deep breath and counted to ten. “I understand that you are not accustomed to dealing with children here, but this is Poppy and Danny’s home now. They are not to be restricted from any area. And you are never to speak to them in the tone of voice you just used with Danny. If you have a problem with them, tell me. I’ll handle it. Are we clear on that?”
The housekeeper’s face burned red, but she nodded and returned to the kitchen.
That went well, Sara thought. She was off to a great start with her husband’s housekeeper. Stella was afraid the children were going to make her job more difficult. In truth, they would. There would be more laundry, more dishes, and more beds to be made. They should probably offer to increase Stella’s salary, since the size of the household had more than doubled.
She’d speak to Matt. But she wouldn’t have handled the situation any differently. No one was going to be rude to her son and daughter. Not when she could prevent it.
CHAPTER 7
Office of Dr. Stephen Russell
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
Roads had been cleared of snow, and Chris and Cole made good time on the 195-mile trip to Oklahoma City. Chris had arranged to meet the doctor after office hours, before he made his evening hospital rounds.
The office was in a high-rise building next to the hospital. Cole found an empty spot in underground parking near the elevator. A bitter wind enveloped them as they hurried to the elevator and punched the up button on the panel next to the door.
The chill worked under Chris’s collar and his nose and ears were starting to go numb. He hated the cold. He stretched achy muscles while they waited for the steel doors to open and rescue them from the elements.
Once inside, Chris pressed the fourth-floor button. “I’m getting too old for this weather, makes me want to retire to Florida to live out the rest of my days in a balmy climate.”
Cole shot him a grin. “You’re too young to retire.”
“It’s not the years, my man, it’s the miles.”
The doctor’s office door stood open, no receptionist in sight. Still wearing his green scrubs, Dr. Russell waved them inside. Stephen Russell looked to be in his late thirties, and bore a strong resemblance to the marshal on the TV show, Justified. He shook hands and motioned them to two chairs in front of his desk. “You fellows have had a long drive on not-so-good roads, so I assume the trip is important. I have about an hour and a half before I have to make rounds. I’m at your disposal.”
Cole shrugged out of his overcoat and took out his notebook.
“Thank you, that should be more than enough time to cover the questions we have,” Chris said. “Primarily, we want to cover conversations you had the past two we
eks with Art Davenport. His telephone phone records show he recently made four calls to you. Can you tell us what the calls were about?”
The doctor hesitated and a shadow fell across his face. “I was sorry to hear about Art and Kathy. They were always kind to me. And, yes, I can tell you what Art and I discussed.”
He came from behind his desk and sat on its corner. “My ex-wife and I have been in a vicious custody battle over our sons, both during and after the divorce. I’m asking for rotating summers with the twins, a week at either Thanksgiving or Christmas, and every other weekend throughout the year. Art had agreed to testify on my behalf. He felt the boys needed more time with me. Of course, Eden is fighting my request with everything in her arsenal. Art’s death will most likely force a postponement of the hearing.”
“Do you think the hearing had anything to do with your in-laws’ death?” Chris asked. “Your ex-wife has a solid alibi for the morning of the murders.”
He folded his arms and nodded. “I don’t say this lightly, Detectives, but Eden is a cold-blooded witch who is capable of anything. Before we separated, the children’s pediatrician called Child Protective Services on us. My son Brandon had three broken bones in three years. The doctor felt that was excessive. I didn’t want to believe my wife would harm the boy, but since our divorce …I’ve learned what she’s capable of. When I question the boys about their treatment at home, they are evasive and frightened. That’s why I’m determined to spend more time with them.”
He fingered a paperweight on his desk, his brow wrinkled in thought. “If Eden has an alibi, then it was probably her loony cousin who’s responsible.”
Chris’s mind ran back over the crime scene pictures. It didn’t look like an assassination. Most assassins get in and get out. They don’t go through the victim’s personal belongings. “Who’s her loony cousin?”
“His name is James Bauer. He’s an attorney, mostly an ambulance chaser, or so I heard from Eden’s parents. They didn’t like him and the influence he had over Eden.
