Murder Deja Vu

by Polly Iyer

  “Is he going to—” She couldn’t say it.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I need to go to him.”

  “We’re going. If he can talk, I don’t want the police to get to him without me being there. Clarence is there, but he’s not Reece’s lawyer. He’s good at working with cops, though. Damn, if I needed a drink before, I sure as hell need one now. A double.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Good News and Bad

  When Clarence arrived at the emergency entrance of Mercy Hospital, the paramedics had already taken Reece into the ER. Two police cars had arrived before him. He parked his car and hurried inside, sick to his stomach at the thought that Reece could have been fatally wounded. He wasn’t a praying man. If he were, he’d be praying now.

  The place swarmed with people. Patients, doctors, nurses, and cops milled around the desk. Clarence waited his turn to get the attention of the admitting nurse. “Can you tell me about the man you just brought in?”

  “Are you a relative?”

  “No, but I’m a close friend.”

  “Sorry, I can’t give out any information.”

  “Can you tell me if he’s alive?”

  She scowled at Clarence and turned to a new arrival flashing his badge. Clarence recognized him as one of the detectives coming out of Daughtry Custom Homes. He moved closer to hear the exchange.

  “They called in the best heart surgeon in the area,” the nurse said to the detective. “They’re prepping Mr. Daughtry for surgery as we speak. That’s all I know.”

  “Will you tell me as soon as you know something?” the cop said.

  “It might be awhile. If I find out anything before I go off duty, I’ll let you know. For now, you can wait over there.” She pointed to a half-filled bank of chairs lining the waiting room wall.

  “Thanks.” The cop turned and noticed Clarence.

  “Sorry,” Clarence said. “I couldn’t help eavesdrop. She wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  He nodded. “Not much to tell right now. Didn’t I see you at the crime scene? The officer outside said you work for Reece Daughtry’s attorney, right?”

  “Correct. Clarence Wright. I’m a retired cop. Detroit.” He offered his hand. “Are you the detective who interviewed Carl Daughtry?”

  The cop gripped Clarence’s hand. “No, but I was in there. Dennis Tobey.” Tobey directed Clarence away from the admittance desk. “Carl and I have a history. I only observed.”

  Clarence didn’t know what Tobey meant by history and made a mental note to pursue it later. Now he wanted to know about Reece. “Did Reece have a gun?”

  “Not that we’ve found. Forensics is still at the scene. We’ll know more when they finish.” Tobey pointed to two men drinking from Styrofoam cups. “Let’s ask the paramedics. They know more about Reece’s condition than anyone right now.”

  Clarence followed Tobey to the two men huddled in conversation in the waiting room. The young guy looked like he’d just graduated from high school, the other like he’d been around the block a few times. Probably a military medic, Clarence guessed. They both looked up.

  “What’s the story, Matt?” Tobey asked the older one.

  “I don’t know. We had him stabilized when we brought him in. I can tell you one thing, if he didn’t have this in his shirt pocket, he’d’ve been dead for sure, even from a .22.” He extracted a mangled piece of silver metal from his pocket and handed it to the detective. “I’ve been waiting to give this to you. We ripped his shirt open in the office, then this fell to the floor in the ambulance.”

  Tobey took the twisted fragment and turned it in his hand. Clarence looked at it more closely. In spite of the damage, he knew what it was. Elated and disheartened at the same time, Clarence realized that Reece had done exactly what he should have—record his conversation with Carl. Except the recorder wouldn’t tell the story of what went on between the Daughtry brothers. Clarence hoped at least the recorder saved Reece’s life.

  “What else did Carl Daughtry say, Detective?” Clarence asked.

  “You know I can’t talk about that.”

  “Reece Daughtry’s future is at stake. If he lives.”

  The cop twisted his mouth into an unreadable expression. “I went to school with Reece. None of this makes sense. It didn’t make sense twenty years ago.”

  “Come on, Detective. I need to keep Reece from taking another fall. Help me out here.”

  Tobey pulled Clarence aside. “Carl said Reece told him he went crazy and killed those women in North Carolina. Reece wanted Carl to help him get to Canada. When Carl refused, Reece went for the gun their father kept in the desk drawer, and it accidentally went off while they wrestled for it.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Clarence said under his breath. “That twisted piece of metal you have in your hand?” Clarence pointed to the digital recorder. “Reece went to his brother’s office to get him to confess to killing not only the girl in North Carolina but the woman in Boston. My guess is Reece got it all on this recorder. Once Carl confessed, he couldn’t let Reece leave, so he shot him in cold blood.”

  “That’s a lot of guessing, Mr. Wright,” Tobey said. “Even if Reece pulls through, it’s his word against his brother’s. Carl has a lot of friends in Portland, and with Reece’s history, whatever he says will be suspect.”

  Clarence couldn’t argue. That’s probably how it would play out. “Shit.” He wondered what made Reece zero in on Carl to buy the recorder in the first place. After Reece spoke to both Cabrini and Yarrow, he’d obviously eliminated them, but Jordan Kraus still remained a possibility.

  So what did he learn and from whom did he learn it? Only one answer made sense. Thom Daughtry. He was the old anger Reece wanted to rid from his heart. Clarence knew the patriarch had suffered a major heart attack and had been moved to a private nursing home. He checked his watch. It’d be awhile before they released news of Reece’s condition.

  “You know which nursing home Daughtry senior is at?” he asked Tobey.

  “The Willows. Why? You going to see him?”

  “Yeah, about some old anger,” Clarence said, and left Tobey scratching his head. On the way out, he asked the guard at the door for directions to the nursing home. It took him twenty minutes to get there. When he arrived, he learned that Thom Daughtry had suffered a massive heart attack and passed away not ten minutes before.

  “There was nothing anyone could do,” the receptionist said.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  One Word Against the Other

  Dana stared out the window on the drive to Portland, seeing nothing but a colorless blur, hearing only the steady hum of the road. Jeraldine left her alone, and Dana silently thanked her.

  She thought about how dramatically her life had changed in such a short time, how it would change again if Reece were no longer part of it. She pushed everything from her mind, but Reece flooded back in visual and sensory flashes—his gentle touch on her shoulders, his warm breath on her breasts. She pictured his lean, muscular body stretched catlike on the bed, listening to her every word, enthralled by her stories. If she closed her eyes, she felt his aura surround her. She didn’t realize tears were crawling down her cheeks until Jeraldine reached across the console to hand her a tissue, and she heard her own sobs.

  “Don’t think the worst,” Jeraldine said. “That’s when bad things happen.”

  “I’m trying not to, but Reece is so vivid in my mind.”

  “In mine too.” Jeraldine’s cell chirped, and she glanced at the readout. “Clarence.” She punched the talk button. “Tell me something good, honey.” She listened. “We’re halfway there. Should be pulling into Portland in another hour or so. See you then.”

  “How is he?”

  “Clarence doesn’t know. Reece is still in surgery, but he’s alive. Fucker brother shot him in the chest. Seems Reece went into Carl’s office with a digital recorder in his breast pocket. The damn thing saved his life, but no one will ever hear wh
at he recorded.”

  “So if he survives, they’ll arrest him.”

  “We don’t know that, Dana. Clarence thinks there are enough holes in Carl’s story to prod the police to investigate. He doesn’t know all the facts, and only one cop talked to him. Bad part, honey, is he wondered if Reece’s father may have said something that turned Reece onto Carl, but when Clarence went to talk to the old man, he’d just died.”

  “Oh, no. Now if Reece—” She covered her mouth to keep the dreaded words from spilling out.

  “He won’t. He’s been through too much to give up now. He’s learned to be a fighter. It’s built into his character.”

  Dana knew Jeraldine’s words were meant to comfort her, but wishes and positive thinking wouldn’t stop a bullet from robbing her of Reece. And if Clarence couldn’t find the truth and Reece died, he’d forever be branded a murderer. Dana couldn’t stand that.

  They drove the rest of the way in silence. Clarence met them at the hospital. Dana searched his face for any sign of bad news, but she couldn’t read him.

  “Have you heard anything?” she asked.

  Clarence pecked Jeraldine’s cheek and snaked his arm around Dana’s shoulder. “He’s out of surgery. Looks like he’s going to make it. It’s not as bad as they first thought, thanks to the recorder.”

  Dana gulped down a sob, but she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Had she been alone, she would have broken down completely. “Thank God.”

  “I’ve reserved a couple of hotel rooms nearby. They won’t let anyone see him until tomorrow anyway. I heard there’s a guard on Reece’s door. That’s not a good sign.”

  “You mean they believe Carl’s story?”

  “There’s no reason for the police not to. Carl’s a well-thought of member of the community.”

  “What did Carl say exactly?” Jeraldine asked.

  “That Reece asked him for help to cross the border into Canada. If Reece were guilty, that would be a logical thing to do. Carl said he refused. Then Reece went for the gun his father kept in the drawer. They fought over it and the gun went off.”

  “Never happened,” Jeraldine said. “Reece would never resort to using a gun.”

  “Exactly what I said, almost verbatim,” Clarence said. “I don’t think forensics will support Carl’s story unless Reece went after the gun to protect himself after Carl pulled it. We’ll have to wait and see. But Reece is wanted for double murder. Going for the gun would be the act of a desperate man, and desperate men resort to desperate measures. Believable to anyone who didn’t know him.”

  “Well, shit.” Jeraldine put her arm around Dana. “Come on, honey. If Clarence says Carl’s story won’t hold water, it won’t.”

  Dana marveled at Jeraldine’s confidence, but nothing Dana heard made her feel any better. Reece lay in a hospital bed with a guard at his door. The police or the FBI were probably ready to charge him with both murders to close the case and look like heroes.

  “I know he made an effort not to show preference,” Clarence said, “but the one cop I talked to went to school with Reece. If I had to judge, I think he’d be on our side. ’Course that means shit. They’ll go with the facts, and right now Reece looks guilty as sin.”

  “We’ll see what Reece says when he can talk,” Jeraldine said.

  “If anyone listens to him,” Dana said.

  “You’re Reece’s lawyer, Jeri,” Clarence said. “Demand to speak to him as soon as he’s able to talk. I’ll be in there with you. I think I know what happened. I want Reece to confirm it.”

  “He knows not to say a word to anyone until he speaks to me. God knows, he’s had enough practice.”

  “For sure. We might as well get something to eat, get some rest, and be here first thing tomorrow.”

  “And I want my drink,” Jeraldine said.

  Dana followed them to the hotel in a daze. Reece was alive. Please, God, don’t let him die.

  Chapter Fifty

  Hidden Meaning

  Reece blinked his eyes, rolled them left to right. Where was he? His last conscious moment came slowly. Carl’s gun aimed at his chest. The gunshot. Searing pain.

  A glance confirmed an IV inserted into the vein of his right hand, the clear liquid drip bag above. A handcuff secured his left wrist to the metal bed frame. He shook it. He wasn’t going anywhere, not that he wanted to. He’d run long enough, and he felt like shit. So much for freedom.

  “You’re awake.” The speaker, a pudgy woman in a nurse’s uniform, bustled around the bed, checking the monitors.

  Reece nodded. His mouth felt like he’d eaten a bucket of sand. “Water, please.” The words came out in a dry croak.

  She moved toward him, poured water into a glass from the bedside pitcher, and stuck in an accordion straw. He sucked as much as he could before she pulled it away.

  “Not too much now.”

  “Thanks. How long have I been here?”

  “Since yesterday.” The nurse checked his IV.

  He looked out the window. From the position of the sun, he judged it to be early morning. “How bad is it?”

  “You’re one lucky fellow. Could’ve been a lot worse if the bullet hadn’t been deflected.”

  Deflected? How?

  The nurse waddled to the door to speak to someone outside. A tall, stocky man entered. He had a badge clipped to his belt and looked vaguely familiar.

  “Remember me, Reece? Dennis Tobey. We were in school together. You graduated a year after me.”

  Reece squinted. He could barely remember yesterday. How did this guy expect him to remember thirty years ago? He dug back in time. Tobey, Tobey. The image took form. Not clearly, but sharp enough to put the name to a face. The man had changed. “You were captain of the basketball team.”

  “Yeah, though I carried less weight back then.” Tobey patted his belly. “Quite a bit less. And you—you were a few pounds heavier. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  Reece snorted. Pain pricked his chest. He took shallow breaths, spoke slowly. “I’m surprised, considering I’ve been on every newscast recently.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s that. First, though, I thought, who in hell is that? Reece Daughtry was this big, quiet mountain of a man. And I see this lean, mean, grizzled-looking guy with grayish hair.”

  “Mean and grizzled,” Reece said. “Haven’t heard that one. Never thought of myself as mean or grizzled.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He stared at Tobey. “No, I don’t.” He forgot, took a deep breath, and burst into a fit of coughing. His chest exploded in pain, and he growled like a wounded animal. “Damn, that hurts.”

  Tobey took a step forward. “You need the nurse?”

  Reece gasped a few times. “No, but I’ll remember not to cough again.”

  “Yup, a bullet in the chest will do that to you.”

  “Mind giving me some water?”

  Tobey did, and Reece took as much as he could before the nurse charged through the door and yanked it from Tobey’s hand.

  “What did I tell you about drinking too much,” she said, checking Reece’s vitals while he talked.

  “Nurse Ratched,” Reece said to Tobey.

  She sneered. “I’m a lot nicer than that movie witch, but my boss isn’t. She wouldn’t like it if my patient got nauseous from the anesthesia. Not with sutures in his chest.”

  “Point taken,” Reece said. “Now, enough small talk, Dennis. Get to it. I’m”—he jiggled his wrist—“cuffed to the bed. Obviously you didn’t listen to the recorder I had in my pocket. It’s all there. My brother confessed he murdered two women—the murders attributed to me.” A frown covered Tobey’s face, and an ominous feeling descended on Reece like a black storm cloud. He bet he wouldn’t like what he heard next.

  “Sorry, Reece. The recorder saved your life. Took the impact of the bullet, which damaged it beyond repair. No one’s going to hear anything on it.”

  Reece’s stomach sank. He’d been right. Now he
understood deflected. He buried his head deeper into the pillow. “I want to see my lawyer. Is she here?”

  “Figured you’d say that.”

  “You going to let me see her or not?”

  “Hey, I’m trying to help.”

  “Lawyer,” Reece said with as much force as he could manage. Then he stared at Tobey, his lips shut tight.

  “She’s not here right now, but she should be soon. There’s a white guy here, though.”

  Where was Jeri? “I want to see him too.”

  “I shouldn’t, but since I know you’re not going anywhere, and I want to give you your best shot, I’ll let him in.”

  “Best shot? You’re one of the few in over twenty years who has.”

  “I followed your case. Thought the result sucked.”

  Reece was sick and tired of people saying that. Where were they all when he was railroaded into prison? Why didn’t they come to his defense then? “What about Dana Minette?”

  “She’s not here. Fed by the name of Larkins is questioning her. That’s where your lawyer is.”

  A flash of anger rippled through Reece. Why did Jeri bring her? Why didn’t she leave her with Frank? She had to know what would happen. He rolled his head to the side. Bad enough he screwed up, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Dana taken into custody.

  “Are they charging her?”

  “They’re asking her a few questions, from what I understand.”

  They can’t railroad Dana with Jeri there. “She didn’t do anything, Dennis. Can’t you do something?”

  “Not my call. The truth will come out.”

  Not without the recorder and Carl’s confession. “Why do you want to give me my best shot? You must be a friend of Carl’s.”

  Tobey fastened a blank stare on Reece, but he say didn’t anything. He went to the door and opened it. Before he left the room, he turned back. “I’ll make sure you see your attorney as soon as she gets here.”