Avarice or Innocence (JOHN LOGAN FILES Book 1)

by Marshall Huffman

  “Note says, ‘Over at Jim’s. Come on over when you get home. Love Carla.’ P.S. Bring a bottle of wine, I think we’re going to need it.’” Terry read.

  “Boy that’s strange. I’ll tell her you're home when she shows up. I sure hope nothing has happened to her.”

  “What do you mean?” Terry said in a concerned voice.

  “I don’t know. Just a bad feeling,” Jim replied.

  Jim paced around the house until he heard a car in the driveway. He hurried to the door and saw Terry’s green Jaguar pull up. He was alone.

  “Is Carla here?” Terry asked as soon as he got out of the car.

  “No. I was hoping that was her that driving up. You haven’t talked to her yet?”

  “Not since this morning. I don’t get it. The note said she would be here,” Terry said with just a hint of panic in his voice.

  “This is getting too weird. When did you talk to her last?” Jim asked.

  “This morning when she told me about Stephanie and I said I would be right home. She said that she had made you supper last night and that you were pretty shaken up?”

  “Supper? What are you talking about? I only talked to her one time. I let her know Stephanie was missing, that’s all. I haven’t seen or talked to her since.”

  “Wait a minute. She said that you came over and were really upset. You went off to work and then called her again. She offered to make dinner for you at our house but you wanted to stay near the phone so she came over here. Are you saying that isn’t what happened?”

  “No way. Terry I haven’t been home for more than a few hours the past two days,” he said.

  Ashton went on to relay the past day’s events. He told him all about the lake search and his discussions with Detective Logan. It was not jiving with what Terry thought had gone on. According to Carla, Jim had been too distraught to hang around their house. Carla had made them dinner and had been spending time with him to comfort him.

  “Terry I don't get it. Why would Carla say such a thing? I haven’t spent any time with her and she sure hasn’t been to my house. Not since the last time you were here together,” Jim protested.

  “All I know is what she told me,” Terry said.

  “I think we should report this to the police,” Jim said.

  “I think you’re right. Let me use your phone. My battery is shot.”

  Jim handed him the portable phone and gave him the number he had been given for reporting non-emergency calls. Terry gave them a brief statement and they said a car would be right out. About a half-hour later two officers rang the doorbell.

  “Ah, Mr. Ashton,” Stockton said by way of acknowledgment.

  “Officer Stockton, isn’t it?”

  “Correct indeed. Officer Martin, my partner,” he said, introducing him to Terry.

  “And I assume you are Terry Larkins. It seems you believe your wife is missing as well?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I talked to my wife this morning and she gave me one story and when I got home, Jim is telling me that none of it is true. I don’t know what to think,’ Terry said.

  “Mr. Larkins, you have been out of town on business. Is that right?”

  “Atlanta,” he answered.

  “And you called her this morning and she told you what, exactly?”

  Terry went into the narrative that he had given Jim earlier. Martin took down notes as he reiterated the story. Jim just stood there looking pensive, biting his lip.

  “And your story is?” Stockton asked.

  Jim explained that none of what was said took place other than his initial call. He had not seen or talked to Carla again.

  “I have to say, you have sure turned a fairly dull week into one of constant surprise,” he said when Ashton finished his side of the story.

  “What is going on here?” Jim asked.

  “Actually that’s my line. Just what is going on here? Look, since this appears to be related, I think I should call in Detective Logan. I understand he was assigned to your case,” he said, indicating Ashton.

  Jim nodded agreement.

  “Martin, why don't you track down the good Detective Logan. I think he will be quite interested in this,” Stockton said.

  Martin made the call and it was patched through to Logan. He indicated that he would be right over. They waited, saying very little to each other. Martin turned on the television and they sat there staring at the screen like zombies until the doorbell rang. Jim let Detective Logan in and introduced him to Terry.

  “You are the partner I’ve heard about. You were in Atlanta on business, correct?”

  “Yes. I just got back this afternoon and now I seem to be caught up in, I don’t know what,” Terry said, exasperated.

  “I understand. Do you have the note you said you found?”

  “Yeah,” he said, patting his pockets and producing a folded piece of paper.

  The detective read it over several times holding it by the very corner. When he was finished he placed it in a plastic bag he fished from his jacket pocket.

  “I want to keep this for now. Mr. Ashton, You say you have never talked to her again after the initial phone call?”

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “Then we have a small problem. I had your phone records pulled as a matter of routine,” he said pulling out a printer page of phone numbers. Mr. Larkins your number is 359-5959 isn’t it? Never mind, I know it is because we checked. Mr. Ashton this log is showing seven calls to the 5959 number over the last two days,” Logan stated flatly.

  “What? That can’t be. I never made those calls. There has to be some kind of mistake,” he said excitedly.

  “I don’t think so. Here are the times,” Logan said, handing the paper to Ashton.

  Jim’s eyes swam as he tried to focus. There it was in black and white. Seven calls to Terry’s house. One on the very night of Stephanie’s disappearance.

  “I don’t understand,” Jim said, looking first at Logan and then Terry.

  “What are you saying?” Terry finally asked Logan.

  “I’m simply saying that phone calls were made from this residence to your residence during the time in question.”

  “And I’m saying that I sure didn’t make them,” Ashton protested.

  “Someone did. Was anyone else here?”

  “No and this is getting crazier by the minute. I don’t understand what in the world is going on.”

  “Frankly, neither do I, Mr. Ashton. That really bugs me. More than you can imagine. I think I would like for you to come down to the station and make a formal statement,” Logan said.

  “Why? I’ve given my statement. Several times,” Jim protested.

  “Yes you have. And it’s just not holding up too well at the moment. I think it would do you good to come with us. I would hate to insist,’ he said.

  “Maybe you should call your lawyer,” Terry suggested.

  “I don’t get it. I haven’t done anything except report my wife missing. Suddenly I feel like I’m being implicated,” Jim said, raising his voice.

  He ran his hands through his hair several times while looking at all of them standing there.

  “Why don’t we just down to the station and sort this all out. Maybe something will come to you,” Stockton said.

  “Do I have a choice?” Ashton asked.

  “Do you need one?” Logan replied.

  Jim looked at him for a minute before shrugging his shoulders. Jim rode in the back of Logan’s car but hardly anything was said during the trip. Terry drove down to the station in his own car.

  “Mr. Larkins, you go with Detective Winston. He will get your information and brief you on what should be done next. I’ll talk to Mr. Ashton and we will follow up with you later,” Logan told Terry.

  They took Jim to a small room with an obvious one way mirror. He took a seat but Logan remained standing.

  “Mr. Ashton. Something is wrong here and I don't see you as a stupid man. You have money and
a nice house. Why don’t we both do ourselves a favor and you just come out and tell me what’s really going on here,” Logan said in a friendly way.

  “Look, detective, I have no idea what is going on. All I know is that my wife is missing and suddenly this is turning into a horrific nightmare. I have no knowledge of the phone calls to Carla Larkins or why she would write such a note. Now they are both missing. You tell me what you think is going on,” Jim said.

  “Who has access to your house? Do you have a housekeeper?”

  “Just one day a week. She has a key but she is 60 years old and she hardly speaks English,” he told the detective.

  “What about your wife. Does she know Mrs. Larkins well?”

  “Sure. They have been friends for years. They serve on a few of the same committees together and play tennis and golf together. That sort of thing,” Ashton said.

  “Are they more than friends?” Logan asked, looking down at the desk.

  “More than friends? I don’t get what you’re asking.”

  “Hey, this is a new age. Things are different. The media has declared it so,” Logan said.

  “I don’t care what they show on TV or in the movies, Stephanie and Carla were just good friends. Suggesting anything else is ludicrous,” Ashton said, slamming the palm of his hand on the table.

  “You know Ashton, we get people in here all the time that think they know everything there is to know about their spouse. Guess what? They are rarely right. We all live in our own little world. Sure we communicate, but we all have our secrets. Usually it’s one of those little secrets that brings me into the picture. Get what I’m saying?”

  “Oh I get it and you're dead wrong,” Ashton replied.

  “I see. Here, I want you to write down exactly what you have done, as factual as you can make it. I want every detail, and anyone who can back up your statement should be noted as well. Take your time and do it right,” Logan said, pushing over a pad of paper.

  “Should I get my lawyer in here first?” Jim asked.

  “That is entirely up to you. If you feel you need one, then by all means get him in here,” Logan said, looking over the top of his glasses at Ashton.

  Jim hesitated a few seconds before reaching for the pad of paper.

  “No one is telling you that you have to do this. Understand? You are electing to do this on your own. You have the right to have your attorney present if you so desire,” Logan said.

  “Yeah right. I’ll give you a statement. I didn’t have anything to do with the disappearance of my wife,” Ashton said firmly.

  “Didn’t say that you did,” the detective said, going out of the door and leaving him alone to write out his statement.

  “Are you going to charge him?” the captain asked when Logan came out of the room.

  “No. I really don’t have anything. There is no way of proving he actually made the calls. Someone else could have. Maybe he is protecting someone. I just haven’t figured this guy out yet.”

  “Just don’t go out on a limb for him. We have two missing women on our hands. It won’t be long before the media is all over this.

  “It’s just a matter of time anyway. Once the vultures smell dead meat you know they will start to circle,” Logan replied.

  “Keep on this. Clear everything else. I don't want this to bite us,” the Captain said, heading down the hall.

  After Ashton finished his statement, he was free to go. Terry was waiting for him and drove him home. Neither said much. Terry was very distant during the ride.

  When they got to Jim’s house he said, “Look Terry. I don't know what’s going on here. I know there has to be some logical explanation. Let’s just let the police work on this. Don’t start jumping to conclusions.”

  “All right,” was all Terry said as he rolled up the window and drove off.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TWO WOMEN MISSING, the headlines screamed at Jim as he opened the morning paper. No sooner had he looked at the headlines than the phone rang. He started reading as he walked to the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Ashton. The Star. We would like to get your reaction to this morning's lead story. Would you be willing to give an interview?”

  “Who are you? I just now got the paper. I haven’t even read it yet,” he said.

  “I’m Carrie Brown. I wrote the story you're holding in your hand right now,” she said.

  “How do you know what I’m holding in my hand?” he demanded.

  “Actually, it’s because I saw you just pick it up. I’m in my car just across the street,” she said.

  “Look lady. I’m not talking to anyone until I know what’s going on,” he said.

  “Read the story first. I’ll call back in a few minutes,” she said and hung up before he could reply.

  He quickly read the story. It gave vague details but nothing substantial. It did mention that both Terry and himself had been brought to the police station to give statements. At least they didn’t insinuate that he had anything to do with the disappearance. He read it through a second time, this time reading every word rather than skimming.

  Only one statement upset him somewhat. The part about the belief that Mrs. Larkins had been to his house to comfort him while her husband was away on business. Still, all in all, it could have been a lot worse. He laid the paper down and the phone rang immediately.

  “Yes?”

  “Not bad huh? You expected a lot worse,” the same voice said.

  “Actually, I had no expectations. I guess I should have known that the media would get involved sooner or later,” he sighed.

  “More than you know. You should watch the television. WICB is leading off with the story and not making you look very good,” she replied.

  “Wonderful,” was all he said.

  “They will be camped out on your door step in a matter of minutes. I was just told they are on their way in force. So are WAIA and just about every other station in the area. How about talking to me first. Maybe I could help,” she suggested.

  “Oh sure. I know you make it a habit of ‘helping’ people,” he said sarcastically.

  “Look. Here’s your chance to tell your side of the story before everyone puts their own spin on it. I suggest you talk to me now or take your chances later,” she said, unfazed by his sarcasm.

  “All right. But if I don’t like the way this is going, you’re out of here. Understand?” he said.

  “I’m on my way,” she replied.

  Jim hardly had time to put down the paper before the doorbell rang. She must have run from her car to make it so fast.

  “Got to be quick,” she said, anticipating his first question, “Carrie Brown. Nice to meet you Jim Ashton. Actually we did meet once before. I covered a story about the expansion of your plant when I was just starting out in reporting,” she said.

  She was looking around, taking in everything. Ashton watched, somewhat amused. She was definitely a reporter.

  “How do you know others are on the way?” he asked.

  “Scanners and cell line to my office. We all keep tabs on each other. I managed to slip out by not telling anyone where I was going,” she said, smiling.

  Young, brash and very sure of herself was Jim’s initial impression.

  “So what do you want to know?” he asked.

  “Everything you know. Why don't you start at the beginning and I’ll just follow along and stop you when I need more,” she replied.

  Ashton sighed and sat down. He started once again to relate the story. He felt like a tape recording stuck on continuous play. Carrie only interrupted him a few times as he went through the narrative once again.

  “What is your relationship with Larkins now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does he think you had something more to do with this than you are telling?” she asked.

  “No. Why should he? Look, I can’t explain the phone calls or the note. All I know is that my wife is missing and little seems to
be getting accomplished in locating her,” he said, exasperated.

  “What have the police done so far, other than the lake?”

  “Nothing that I am aware of but to be truthful I don't think there is much they can do except to try to follow up leads. Maybe someone saw Stephanie’s car near the boat ramp.”

  “Have you received a ransom note or anything like that?”

  “No. Nothing. It’s like she vanished. Now Carla is missing as well. I guess it could have something to do with our ownership of DigitCom but I can’t see the connection if there is one,” he told her.

  “You uncategorically deny that you had anything to do with either disappearance?”

  “Of course. I loved my wife and I admired Carla. She was a very warm and wonderful woman. Terry and I have been friends ever since college. There is some logical explanation for all of this. It just hasn’t made itself known yet,” he told her.

  The doorbell rang and they could hear a commotion outside. Carrie looked out the window and saw television crews laying out equipment. The horde had descended.

  “You have lots of visitors. Look, Mr. Ashton, you seem like a genuine guy. I don't see you as a raving loony. I’ll keep my stories factual but in return I want you to notify me first if anything breaks. Fair enough?” she asked.

  “You mean you’ll keep your speculation out of the papers. Only report the facts in return for my cooperation?” he asked.

  “Sure, that’s about it,” she replied.

  “So, you're saying you will do your job right, only if I help? If I don’t, you’ll start speculating. Planting doubt?” he asked.

  “It you want to put it like that. I've got news for you Mr. Ashton, people love it when someone successful falls. It sells lots of papers and advertisements. Careers are made on such stories. I’m giving you a break here; you just don’t know it yet. Talk to me after that bunch gets through with you,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the window.

  “Some deal. Look, I’ll call you with anything that I can. I won’t make up your story for you. All I’ll do is help keep the story straight,” he said.

  “I’ll take that for now,” she said and opened the door. Reporters started shoving towards the opening.