Rusty began to nudge at my leg and I realized he hadn’t been out in hours.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I said. The magic word was ‘walk’ and he headed for the front door. I grabbed up my jacket and his leash and we walked toward the park two blocks away. The autumn sky was brilliant with its typical deep blue and I wondered why on earth I’d spent the whole morning indoors. We might have another month or so of this fabulous weather before winter set in. I needed to make the most of it.
I willed all thoughts of the case out of my head, clearing space for answers, I hoped. We circled the park and found it deserted. The neighborhood is still mainly older people and they tend to stick pretty close to their own territory. The real outdoor girl of the whole lot is Elsa, with her huge garden every year. I let Rusty off the leash and he sniffed at the ground for awhile.
“Hey old man,” I teased as I clipped the leash back on, “let’s head home.”
He trotted beside me, sprightly enough, and drank about three quarts of water when we got back to the house. I debated making myself a little lunch but the two muffins and egg sandwich had taken their toll on my appetite. I went back into Drake’s office, where I’d left all my papers piled on the desk. The dog eventually came in and flopped down beside me, with all the energy of an old rag.
Lethargy was trying to set in and I dropped into Drake’s desk chair and began to gather my pages. Two unmarked folders lay there and I absently flipped one of them open. There was my answer, staring me right in the face.
Chapter 32
It took me a minute to place the face. The maintenance man who’d been around Casa de Tranquilidad. He’d stepped into the yoga room, looking for Rita, the first day. I’d passed him in the corridor at least once, near Trudie’s room. The unkempt blond hair and four-day beard growth were the same in the photo. It was a mug shot. The attached report showed an arrest four years earlier for trafficking in stolen merchandise.
I dialed Drake’s cell phone and he picked up immediately.
“Leo Malone?” he said, once I’d described how I found the picture. “He’s the mechanic who is probably behind our crash. We think he failed to safety wire that engine nut and then conned Manny Salazar into signing off the maintenance record. That mug shot comes from an arrest for dealing in stolen aircraft parts. He got a year probation and a fine.”
“I think he’s tied in with Rita’s death.”
“He knows David Ratwill. Ron and I saw them meeting.”
A few more pieces fell into place.
I dialed the number for Detective Gallegos in Santa Fe.
“Before you even get started, Ms. Parker, I’ll let you know that we weren’t able to hold David Ratwill. Brought him last night, but the most we could charge him with was aggravated assault. He never took Dr. Casper off the resort grounds, so we can’t really make a case for kidnapping. And Trudie Blanchard refuses to press any charges against him at all. She says they are in love and were just planning to go away together. Your whole story about him tying her up and leaving her in a closet—she won’t confirm it.”
I gritted my teeth, almost wishing I hadn’t rescued her.
“He’s already out on bond today and making threatening noises about pressing charges against you for shooting at him.”
Not surprising.
I didn’t give up. “I think he had an accomplice. Leo Malone. He’s got a record. Malone is implicated in causing a helicopter crash a couple of years ago. It’s also connected with David Ratwill.”
There was a minute of silence, during which I could hear computer keys clicking in the background.
“Yeah, I got something here on Malone. Last known address is Albuquerque. That’s out of our jurisdiction. I don’t think I can do anything about him.”
What about various departments working together? What about actually trying to solve this crime? I wanted to demand answers but felt on shaky ground still about the shooting incident.
He’d closed up by then anyway, and he ended the call by telling me there was nothing more he could do.
Chapter 33
My blood pressure spiked—I could feel it. Why did I let the detective get to me like that? I leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling, letting my head hang back. Tried sitting upright and meditating for a couple of minutes but my mind was racing. Linda probably never would get me to be disciplined enough for this. Shirley had tried to teach us well. Why wasn’t I getting it?
Shirley. A scene popped into my head. Standing in Shirley’s office, a casual mention of Rita’s personal belongings, a tote bag on the floor. She’d told me that the police left Rita’s things with her, at the conference center.
Now that the conference was over, could I catch her in time?
I grabbed for the phone, fumbled it, shuffled through papers until I found the number.
“Shirley?” My voice came out kind of squeaky when the female voice answered. It was Nicki but she put me through.
“Shirley, do you still happen to have Rita Ratwill’s belongings?” I blurted out the question without even introducing myself, but I backtracked and tried for the niceties.
“I think so, Charlie,” she said. “Let me check . . . um, wait a minute.” I heard drawers and doors thunking. “Here it is. I’d put it away in my credenza.”
“The police in Santa Fe don’t seem to have enough evidence to get serious about an arrest, and I’d really like to look through Rita’s things. Something in her tote bag might provide me some clues.” The minute I mentioned the police, I wished I hadn’t. She might decide to turn it over to them instead.
But she didn’t seem to care about that.
“I’m leaving in about fifteen minutes to drive some of our people to the Albuquerque airport. I could meet you somewhere. But I don’t have much leeway in time. A couple of the flights have tight connections.”
“Which airline? I’ll meet you near the check-in counters.”
A little over an hour later I was sitting on a little ottoman-type bench near the entry doors when she came in. I watched her shepherd three people toward one airline’s counter and a couple more to another. She had Rita’s tote bag over one arm and an extra purse strap on that same shoulder. A quick greeting, and she seemed glad to be rid of the extra weight.
Much as I wanted to dig right in, I drove all the way home and put the purse and tote on the dining table before opening either one. When I dumped the contents, the purse appeared to contain a woman’s normal collection of junk—wallet, keys, lipstick, a hairbrush, two old shopping lists with the items crossed off, some breath mints, two ballpoint pens.
The tote bag contained her teaching materials, mainly cassette tapes. A sweater, headband, a spiral notebook. I spread the tapes across the table, a motley collection of home recordings mixed with professional ones. Most were labeled with Sanskrit-sounding words.
One tape was not labeled.
I found a tape player and popped it in.
Chapter 34
Rita’s voice came through. A whisper, scared. Not the pushy dominatrix from our yoga classes.
“David’s guy . . . that Leo . . . he’s stalking me. I’ve seen him twice when I’m out shopping. Once I was in my car and saw him in a big white pickup truck. He drove right up behind me to freak me out.” A loud sigh and long pause. When she spoke again the voice was ragged.
“He’s really scaring me. I think he’s going to kill me.”
She paused for a full minute but didn’t stop the tape. I heard whishy sounds, as if she were pulling a blanket around her. “In case he does get me, I think I better tell the whole story.”
Again, a pause as she gathered her thoughts.
“David is moving money offshore. He put a lot of it in my name, thinking he would avoid taxes. But he knew I wanted to leave him and thought he could get rid of me by sticking me in that place. While I was in there he did something else with the money. I never found the records—”
A sudden thump sounded on t
he tape and she shrieked.
“Oh, Cleo, what are you doing?” Her voice became tender and a cat’s meow explained the interruption.
She spoke to the cat for a few moments before she seemed to remember the tape.
“Where was I? Oh yeah, David and the money. I don’t know if that’s the reason Leo is following me now. I heard something else . . .”
My interest perked up.
“After I got out of the hospital David insisted I work in his law office. He acted nice, made it sound like he really wanted us to be closer again. I think he just wanted to keep tabs on me, to make sure he knew where I was all the time.”
I was still a little fuzzy on the timeframe here, trying to remember how long Rita worked for David. But her voice pulled me back to the tape.
“One night I was there later than David thought. He’d told me to go home at five and start making dinner. But there was some extra filing . . . I’d gotten behind and it made him mad. So I stayed that night because I knew he had a conference call and wouldn’t go home right away. While I was in the file room I heard the back door open and David went to greet someone. It was Leo, but I didn’t know that at the time. I mean, I didn’t know Leo.
“David didn’t invite him in. They just stood by the back door and talked. And I was just on the other side of the wall from them. I stayed really quiet.”
The cat meowed again. I wished it would stay really quiet.
“Leo said some stuff about his job as a mechanic. Then something about a helicopter crash. I remember that because David answered him back like, ‘yeah, it was a mistake, that’s what you’ll say.’ Kind of wink-wink, nudge-nudge, if that makes sense. But Leo didn’t like it. He said he better leave the state. He wanted to just get away. David said that Leo couldn’t leave yet because there was still that other matter—that’s what he said, that other matter . . . Then he said they’d talk about it tomorrow and he kind of shoved Leo out because the phone was starting to ring and it was that conference call.” She sighed loudly on the tape.
“So, anyways, I just stood there like a statue and I heard the back door close and then I heard David talking on the speaker phone and once it seemed like he was busy with that, I went really quietly back to my desk and got my purse and keys and started to get the heck out of there . . . and then, oh god, this is so dumb . . . I bumped my desk and a coffee cup crashed on the floor, and then David called out but the people on the line were asking him what’s wrong and so he didn’t come after me— But he knew it was me, I know he did, and I know he figured out that I’d heard him talking to Leo. The money from that big chemical lawsuit is gone—he’s moved it somewhere. He’ll just disappear and, no one will ever know what he did. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do . . .”
She must have gone home and packed her things. Made the tape as insurance. I picked up the cassette case again to see if there were any markings on it. A date, anything. But there wasn’t. I tried to create a timeline of events but I couldn’t be sure. I could guess that the Ratwills, once Rita was released from Peaceful Haven, had moved to Santa Fe—maybe as a place to hide awhile from California authorities—who knew? She’d worked in David’s office for a few weeks or months until she overheard David’s conversation with Leo, then clearly she felt like she had to get out.
But instead of going very far away, she’d stayed in town and just picked a new career—dumb move. Why hadn’t she moved across the country, changed her name, really disappeared? Remembering Rita’s flighty ways and disorganization I guessed that she just didn’t plan that far ahead. Now we would probably never know. Her guess that David and Leo would try to get rid of her, though, seemed accurate. I couldn’t prove who gave the actual push over the wall, but I knew one of them did.
Chapter 35
I knew the Santa Fe police weren’t going to take the investigation any further than they’d already done. Why? In a town that size, you never knew. Maybe David’s law firm wielded some influence, maybe the cops were satisfied with their accidental-death ruling and didn’t want to put in the extra work. But Gallegos’s statement that Leo Malone lived outside their jurisdiction was the real clincher. Case closed for them.
I tapped my pen on the dining table.
Well, if Santa Fe wouldn’t work the case because Malone lived in Albuquerque, then I would get the Albuquerque police involved. I caught Ron at the office and got the direct phone number for Kent Taylor, the homicide detective who is really my one and only inside link at APD.
It took about twenty minutes but I laid out the whole story—Rita’s fall, David and Leo both hanging around the resort, how a huge amount of money from the AceChem settlement had disappeared, the weird relationship that seemed to exist between Trudie Blanchard and David. I even told about the confrontation in the woods, although I glossed over the fact that I’d actually fired my gun. Told him what Gallegos had told me about closing the case.
He asked a few questions but otherwise didn’t interrupt as I basically related everything that had happened during the last week, including the fact that David’s law firm was trying very hard to get a huge settlement in the helicopter case. My opinion was that David couldn’t resist one last big-money score, but that he was certainly taking a risk if he were hoping that Rita’s death would be ruled accidental. With Santa Fe PD dropping their investigation he probably felt pretty safe now.
Over the phone I could hear Taylor hitting a few keys on a keyboard. “There’s a note in the database that the police questioned you about firing a weapon, Charlie.”
Uh-oh, the one area of shaky ground for me. “I don’t think they found any evidence of that, except that Mr. Ratwill was somehow frightened into wetting his pants. I suppose he could pursue me in civil court if he wants that fact to become public.”
Kent didn’t seem to see the humor in that. “Well, if Santa Fe PD wants a signed statement from you, we’ll call and you can come downtown.”
I certainly didn’t relish that idea—at all. I hung up, a little less sure of myself.
Deciding I’d done about all I could for the moment, I gathered Rita’s belongings back into her purse and tote bag. Maybe I could find someone at Casa de Tranquilidad who knew how to contact whoever should get her things.
I set the two bags in the guest room and headed to the kitchen.
There were still a ton of unanswered questions. Who really pushed Rita? What was David’s connection with Leo—I mean, why did Leo show up at David’s office to tell him about the helicopter’s maintenance records? Was this before or after David’s firm had taken that case?
And of course I had to ask myself—what was I going to make for dinner?
Since I’d been away for most of the week, and poor Drake had fended for himself, it kind of fell to me to be the provider tonight. Other than Elsa’s bag of tomatoes, I wasn’t seeing a lot of options in the fridge. Rummaging in the cabinets netted me a package of spaghetti and jar of sauce. A quick trip to the store and I could add a salad and some garlic bread and call it good. Drake would undoubtedly be able to add some extra things to a bottled sauce to make it truly fabulous, but that was a little beyond me at this moment. I grabbed my keys and wallet and convinced Rusty that he didn’t really need to go along on the ten-minute trip.
There’s a little market just a few blocks from the house, which is a lot more convenient than any of the huge chain supermarkets—a quicker trip and fewer parking hassles—so that’s where I headed. I told myself to drop all thoughts of the investigation, including the nagging possibility that a lawyer like David Ratwill would most certainly be the type who would haul me into court in a heartbeat.
I let myself revel in the variety of fresh lettuces and I acted like a real connoisseur of fine produce as I checked for the very best cucumbers in the bin. Since I’m completely missing the gardening gene, this is about as close to the farmer instinct as I ever get. I chose my salad ingredients, grabbed a fresh baguette in the bakery section and headed back toward my Jeep.
<
br /> The rest of it happened in a blur.
I’d barely clicked the remote door lock when I sensed movement behind me. A white van. An iron-like grip clamping my arms to my sides. My feet leaving the ground.
Chapter 36
Drake walked around the engine wreckage one more time then shut off his digital camera. He’d probably taken four dozen close-ups of the parts in question, with at least half of those focused on the place where the missing nut should be. Every conceivable angle, every properly wired bolt to show the contrast with the one improperly done. Would it be good enough evidence to convince the attorneys—who could guess? His head was beginning to pound.
He arrived home to find Rusty anxiously waiting by the front door, no sign of Charlie.
“Hey, boy.” He rubbed the dog’s ears. “Didn’t you get your dinner yet?”
Keying on the important word, Rusty spun and headed for the kitchen. His dish was empty but that was no surprise. This wasn’t a critter who left spare food lying around. Drake supposed a little more wouldn’t hurt so he scooped a few nuggets. Charlie could let him know whether to add more later.
Where was she anyway? A kettle of water sat on the stove, cold. With the package of spaghetti and an unopened jar of sauce on the countertop, it was pretty clear what her intentions were for their own dinner. Maybe she’d gone next door to borrow something to finish it out.
He walked into their bedroom, didn’t see her, spent a couple of minutes washing his face and combing his hair, went back to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. Debated walking over to Elsa’s house, but it looked dark over there. Settling in front of the TV sounded more appealing than getting hooked into female conversation at this moment. He headed toward the living room when the blinking light on the answering machine caught his attention and he set his beer down.
Gossip Can Be Murder Page 19
