by V. B. Tenery
He would think about it, but he wouldn’t change his mind. Soldiers and cops had the hardest jobs on the planet. They didn’t need bureaucrats second-guessing their actions. He couldn’t do anything about the military, but he could protect the guys who worked for him.
Internal Affairs was needed because, like it or not, there were bad cops. He wanted people who were interested in finding the truth, not railroading an officer to satisfy public opinion, or whitewashing a dirty cop. Guys who put their lives on the line everyday deserved nothing less.
His boss certainly knew how to ruin the start of a good day.
Claire Davenport’s Home
Twin Falls, Texas
Davis made an appointment to interview Claire Davenport at one that afternoon. She lived three streets over from her parents, in a house of similar design and floor space. It was a chic address on the upscale side of town, and Ms. Davenport had probably chosen it for that reason.
When he and Turner pulled into the circular drive, snow and ice had been removed from the entrance. He and Turner made their way to the front door and rang the bell. Claire answered, wearing green wool pants with flared legs, a white long-sleeved sweater, and no makeup. Her eyes were red and swollen, her grief seemingly genuine. The contrast between her and Eden’s reaction to their parents’ deaths was obvious.
She didn’t look happy to see them, but she moved aside for them to enter, and they stepped into the foyer. “We’re in the den. I only have about an hour before I have to take my sister to swim practice. She’s on the school swim team.”
They moved through double doors into a room with high ceilings and mahogany paneling, topped by elegant crown molding. A sofa and chairs formed a seating arrangement in front of the fireplace, where a fire blazed away.
The décor wasn’t what he’d expected from Claire. He figured her for something out of Architectural Digest, a showplace to impress her friends. Instead, it was comfortable French Country, something you could put your feet up on.
An attractive man stepped forward to meet them. He was tall and slender with collar-length brown hair, who looked to be ten years older than Claire. He was well tanned despite the season, and didn’t appear to be the type to frequented tanning booths.
“I’m Winston Seymour, but everyone calls me ‘Win’,” he said, and offered his hand. He spoke with a cultured upper-class English accent. “And the lovely young lady in the chair is Taylor, Claire’s sibling.”
The girl nodded, and then glared at Win. Davis introduced himself and Turner. “We won’t take up much of your time, just a few questions for our records.”
Win took on the role of host, and pointed them to a mustard-colored sofa with a triangle-patterned skirt and matching throw pillows. “Would you join us for coffee? We were about to have some.”
“Yes, thank you,” Davis said.
Win turned to Taylor, “Would you like hot cocoa?”
Taylor sat detached, her eyes downcast, playing with the sleeve of her sweater. When he spoke, she looked up and shook her head.
The Englishman headed toward the kitchen and stopped before an elaborate coffee maker.
Davis followed him. “I’ve never seen a machine like this one.”
Win smiled. “It’s new. I’m a fresh-coffee snob, and when I found this coffeemaker that roasts and grinds the beans, then brews the finished product, I was sold.” He placed the beans inside, measured the water, and went to the china cabinet and pulled down four heavy mugs.
“You must have just gotten back from vacation, with that tan of yours,” Davis said.
“I just returned from Melbourne. I was at the Australian Open the week leading up to Art and Kathy’s deaths. I played professional tennis until about ten years ago, when the younger competitors became too much for me.”
Claire made her way into the kitchen. “He’s too modest. He came in second in the men’s singles at Wimbledon ten years ago.” She sent him a glowing smile and squeezed his hand.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Now, I just coach.”
The machine finished its cycle- filling the room with the aroma of the dark roasted beans.
Claire selected a silver tray,poured coffee into the mugs, and they returned to the living room.
Taylor was nowhere in sight.
Davis glanced at Claire. “How is Taylor doing?”
“Not well.” Claire shook her head. “I’m not sure how to help her. Perhaps it will just take time, like the rest of us.”
Win settled on the sofa next to Claire. “Perhaps we should take her away for a while, if you can get away from the bank.”
She shook her head. “We’re into year-end reconciliations. I can’t leave now.”
Win turned his attention to Davis. “How may we help you?”
Davis directed his question to Claire. “When you spoke to your mother Saturday evening, did she seem upset about anything?”
“No more than usual.” Claire perched on the edge of the sofa, both hands wrapped around the coffee cup. “My parents have been upset about Eden’s custody battle. My father was going to testify on behalf of Stephen. They didn’t like the boys spending so much time with Jim Bauer, and felt the twins needed more time with their father. Eden was dead-set against it. Mom and Dad hated the division it was causing between them and Eden. After Dad agreed to testify for Stephen, she stopped bringing the boys to visit, and it broke their hearts.”
“When was the hearing scheduled?” Turner asked.
“In two weeks.”
Taylor came back into the room with a huge yellow tabby in her arms, and knelt in front of the fireplace. She stroked the cat and didn’t look at anyone, but Davis suspected she was listening to every word.
Turner jotted a note on her pad. “Will the hearing move forward without your parents?”
“Of course, but I’m not sure how it will effect Stephen’s request for more time with the twins. Eden’s lawyer is a shark.”
Taylor opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it and turned her attention back to the cat.
“Do you think Eden is a good mother?” Davis asked.
She swallowed and glanced at Win. “If you tell Eden I said this, I’ll deny it. Eden loves those boys, but that’s not the same as being a good parent. I have no children, but to me she seems possessive and overprotective. And her choice of companions is certainly questionable—a two-bit lawyer and an accused murderer.”
Taylor looked up. “I like Jack. He’s nice.”
Claire cast a cold glance at her sister and rolled her eyes.
“Just for the record, the murder charges against Jack McKinnon were dropped after the killer was found,” Davis said.
“Whatever.” She gave a dismissive wave. “The fact remains the men she is hanging with are a bad influence. Stephen Russell is a well-respected doctor and the boys’ father. They should see more of him than just two weeks every summer and every other Christmas. Eden never should have divorced Stephen.”
“Anything else you can tell us about your parents’ affairs that might help us? Problems with anyone outside of Eden? Business problems?”
“No, nothing. That’s why their murder is so bizarre,” she said.
“How about you, Win? Any ideas?” Davis asked.
“I have to agree with Claire. There doesn’t seem to be any personal reasons for their deaths. They were generous, kind people.”
“When did you return from Australia?” Davis asked.
“Unfortunately, my client didn’t make it through the quarter-finals in Melbourne, so there was no need for me to stay. I arrived home Saturday afternoon, and was here with Claire until she received the phone call about her parents.”
Davis thanked the couple for their time, and he and Turner left.
He looked up before getting into the driver’s side. The sad face of Taylor Davenport watched them from the second floor window.
“Any thoughts?” Turner asked.
“As far as our case is c
oncerned, no,” Davis said. “I was prepared not to like Win, but he seemed like an alright guy. No airs, and he appeared to be genuinely fond of Claire. Did you get the impression the girl had something on her mind?”
Turner placed her head against the seat back and sighed deeply. “Yeah, I did. I’d like to talk to her alone. I think I’ll drop by her school next week and buy her lunch, see what she has on her mind.” She looked over at him. “Want to call it a day? We both have to work tonight.”
“Sounds good to me,” he laughed. “We can start early tomorrow to make up for it.”
The drive back to the station didn’t take long, but Davis was running on empty, and Turner looked to be in the same shape. They hadn’t had a day off since the Davenports’ murders.
Today’s visit with Claire Davenport yielded nothing they didn’t already know. However, it did support the theory of Eden as a prime suspect in the murders. And, there was no such thing as a wasted interview.
*****
Taylor Davenport stood at the window and watched the two detectives leave. She should tell them what she suspected, but she had no proof. Her first thought after Claire told her that Mom and Dad were dead, was that Eden was somehow responsible. Taylor didn’t want to believe her sister could do such a horrible thing, but she had always known something wasn’t right with Eden.
She pressed her face against the window pane. Please, God, let this be a terrible nightmare and let me wake up. I don’t want to live with Claire, and I would never, never, never live with Eden. Not even if I have to become homeless.
Claire’s tabby, Liszt, rubbed against her leg. Taylor issued a soft sigh and lifted the cat into her arms. Claire was such a poser, naming a cat after a famous pianist.
Taylor snuggled the cat to her breast, stroking his soft fur, and then nuzzled his head with her nose. “I like you, Listy, but I miss Sugar. Claire wouldn’t let me bring Sugar, because she thought you two couldn’t get along.”
Claire was hinting that Taylor should consider living at school. The academy provided residence for those who wanted it. Claire worked, and she didn’t want to drive into Dallas every day. Win had been driving her to school, but he wouldn’t always be there.
Taylor didn’t want to live at school. It would be too lonely. She’d lost Mom and Dad. She couldn’t bear to lose Sugar and her home as well.
She dropped Liszt and flung herself onto the bed. Grief overwhelmed her, and great gulping sobs shuddered through her body. Oh, Jesus, what is going to become of me?
The tears finally subsided, leaving behind a bad case of hiccups.
Maybe, just maybe, she could live with Aunt Judith. She liked Sugar, and she liked Taylor. And her assistant, Elijah, could drive her to school. But how to ask, without making Claire mad? Dare she tell Aunt Judith of her suspicions of Eden? Best not to. Everyone thought of Taylor as just a kid.
No one would believe her. Not even Claire.
CHAPTER 10
Élan Club
Las Colinas, Texas
Lucy Turner and Ben Stein pulled up in front of the club, just ahead of Miles Davis. Her partner had gotten Lucy a night job at the club last year. She’d been falling deep into debt and the money she earned at Élan was top-notch. And, since she only worked on Friday and Saturday nights, she could spend more time with her boys. Ben Stein, another TFPD officer, also worked at the club.
Ben gave her a wave and hurried through the entrance.
Davis stepped up beside her. “Hey, nice dress, Turner. Is that one of Sierra’s creations?”
Élan was an elegant establishment that catered to the upper-crust of Dallas society, sports stars, politicians, and required security personnel to dress like their clientele. Davis’ significant other, Sierra Jackson, was a buyer for Nordstrom’s and she gave Lucy a call whenever something in her size went on sale. Lucy couldn’t have afforded Élan’s dress code without Sierra’s help.
Sierra had suggested the gray silk dress she wore tonight. Its neutral color brought out the red in her hair and green in her hazel eyes.
“Yes, your lady has great taste, Davis.”
They entered the club together, and Davis stopped just inside the door. “You got a minute before you check in?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
He ran a hand down his face, in an embarrassed gesture that was totally unlike him. “First, this is none of my business, but are you seeing Stein outside of the job?”
She agreed it was none of his business, but Davis had been good to her. He wouldn’t pry into her personal life without a reason. She nodded. “Yes. We’re both single, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”
Her marriage to Hank Turner had been a disaster from the beginning, and she had barely escaped with her life. Ben Stein was one of the nicest men she’d ever known. He was attentive to her and seemed to love her boys, taking them to Ranger and Cowboy games without her. The boys loved the male attention they’d never gotten from their father. She didn’t want to give that up. She wouldn’t give him up, period.
“There are rules at the club. They have a policy of no dating between co-workers or club clients. So keep it low key, and tell Ben to do the same.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. Any problems with our dating at the station?”
“There’s no written policy, but it’s frowned upon. Of course, it goes on all the time, so just be discreet. Got it?”
“Got it.”
The evening passed without serious problems, only one middle-aged matron who drank too much. That was Lucy’s job: keeping the female patrons from embarrassing themselves and ensuring they left the club safely.
As she re-entered the lobby after putting the customer in a cab, Ben Stein and the club manager, Giles Beneoit, escorted James Bauer out the double doors. He pushed past her, apparently without recognition.
She stopped inside the lobby and waited for Ben, wanting to find out why Bauer had been evicted.
“You’re not welcome at Élan any longer,” Beneoit said in his heavy French accent. “Your affiliation with the club is revoked. We will refund the balance of your membership fee within the next ten days. Give me your valet ticket.”
Bauer’s face flushed a dark red, and he slapped the ticket into the club manager’s hand. “I’ll sue you, Beneoit, and close this place down by the end of the week.”
Beneoit signaled the valet attendant and handed him Bauer’s ticket. “Get this gentleman’s car.” He turned to Stein. “Make sure he leaves the property.”
Ben stood beside the seething lawyer until he got into his car, and then watched him peel out of the lot.
“What happened?” Lucy asked when Ben came back in.
“Bauer was spouting his fascist philosophy to a redneck oilman who wanted to deck him. I stepped in just in time to keep it from getting ugly. You know that guy?”
She nodded. “He’s involved in the Davenport murder case Davis and I are working. This squares with everything we’ve heard about him.”
Ben squeezed her arm, and twin creases formed between his eyebrows. “Watch your step, Luc. I don’t want you to get hurt. That guy is a couple of rounds short of a full clip.”
The Foley Residence
Twin Falls, Texas
The living room was empty when Matt got home. Rowdy bounded down the stairs, wagging his nub of a tail in greeting, leading Matt to conclude Shannon was with Sara.
He climbed the carpeted staircase and stepped into the master bedroom. Sara was propped up against the pillows, and Shannon sat in a wingback chair beside the bed.
“How’s our patient doing?”
Sara flashed him a bright smile and spoke through a stuffy nose. “Early this morning, I didn’t think much of my chances for survival but, around three this afternoon, I decided I was going to live. I think the shot is doing its thing.”
“Actually,” Shannon said, “Beatrice sent over more of her miraculous chicken soup. After one bowl, Sara started to get color back into her cheeks.”
&n
bsp; “I’m happy to hear that,” Matt said, and sat on the bedside. He leaned over and kissed Sara’s brow.
There was cautious humor in Sara’s eyes. “I hope I don’t give this plague to you.”
“I don’t think there’s any danger, but it’s worth the risk.”
Shannon rose from the chair with a grin. “I’m going to leave you two honeymooners alone, and get home to my husband and my new baby. By the way, Matt, Stella left your dinner in the oven. Not sure what it is.”
“No matter; I’m not picky.”
“Thanks for staying with me, Shannon,” Sara said, “and give my love to Colin and Sugar.”
As Shannon left, Matt’s cell phone vibrated. He retrieved the phone from his pocket. “Yeah, Miles, what’s up?”
“Thought you might like to know that McCulloch identified the gun in the Davenport murders. It’s a Beretta .92.”
“Good, that gives us something to put on our radar. Anything else?”
“We’ll check ATF to see how many are registered in Texas. That’s an older model, and there could be a gazillion of them out there. I had one while I was in the Marines.”
“It’ll be worth checking out. Let’s see if any of our suspects have one registered. I’d also like to get a look at the arsenal Bauer has in his mother’s barn. See if you can get him to open it up. We don’t have enough cause to get a warrant.”
“Yeah, but if he has a Beretta .92 and it’s the murder weapon, he’ll get rid of it before he lets us inside.”
“We still need to know what kind of firepower he has if we have to bring him in.”
“That, too,” said Davis.
Matt ended the call. Sara watched him with troubled eyes. “Problems?”
He should have taken the call in another room. She didn’t need to worry while she was trying to recuperate. “Just routine follow-up on the murder weapon and trying to prepare for any contingencies.” He grinned down at her. “How about I warm up some more of that chicken soup for you?
The Foley Residence
