Chasing a Dead Man

by Kathryn J Bain

  “We had sex the afternoon before.” Pamela’s cheeks turned pink. “They weren’t there then.”

  And the chances of him sneaking out during the night to get them was improbable. Winston leaned back in her chair. “If you don’t believe your husband is dead, why are you here to probate his estate?”

  “I really don’t know. The insurance company said to do it, so I called. Maybe I’m hoping you’ll have answers to help me.” Pamela stared down at her hands. “I understand you’re a widow, Ms. Black?”

  Winston bit back the pain that still lingered from the loss. “Call me Winston, please. And you’re correct, I lost my husband a few years ago.”

  “If he were killed in this…this—way.” Pamela waved her hand over the pictures, “would you not be able to tell whether it was him?”

  Winston thought about that a moment. She’d know.

  “I swear it’s not him.” Tears welled in Pamela’s eyes. “I need to find him. He could be hurt.”

  Winston looked again at the pictures. She was seeing dissimilarities. Maybe this woman wasn’t as crazy as she sounded. Or did Winston want to see a difference for Pamela’s sake?

  “Makes me wonder who this guy is.” Winston tapped the photo of the dead man. “Was he the one who shot you?”

  “There were two of them. I don’t know which one shot me.”

  Winston leaned back and thought for a moment. “Was your husband into drugs, selling or doing?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have a life insurance policy on your life with your husband as the beneficiary?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s always the possibility he hired them to kill you, but things—”

  “No! He loved me.” Pamela shot up from her seat. “And I didn’t want him dead either, so don’t even go there. I don’t care what the police insinuated.”

  Winston glanced up from the pictures. “Why’d the police think you were involved?”

  “Because of the insurance money.”

  “I’m not surprised. Most police looked at the spouse first when a murder occurs. A large policy always made you a prime suspect.” Winston kept her voice steady. She’d been there when Steve died. She took a sip of coffee. Tepid.

  “You don’t believe me.” Pamela’s voice was barely audible. She slid back down into her chair.

  “I didn’t say that,” Winston said. “Let me check on something. Excuse me a moment.” Winston picked up her phone and buzzed the front desk.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Brenda always the professional, but at thirty-eight Winston didn’t feel old enough for someone to call her ma’am, especially from someone her own age.

  “Is Jane here.”

  “Yes.”

  “See if she can step in.” Winston hung up. “I share an office with a private investigator who does well locating missing persons,” she explained to Pamela. “I’d like to get her opinion.”

  Pamela nodded and leaned back in her chair. “I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this shooting. Why would I? Losing the baby, a baby we were both excited to have.” Tears welled again in her eyes. She grabbed her water and gulped down the rest of the bottle.

  Winston drummed her fingers on the desk for a second. Phillip Evers may have set the whole thing up to kill his wife.

  But what had made him disappear?

  And if Pamela wanted her husband dead for his life insurance, why cause waves?

  Something here just didn’t feel right.

  Chapter 5

  Jane felt out of place as she entered Winston’s office wearing her jeans and t-shirt while the other women were in blazers and slacks. Since most days were spent in her car watching others, she saw no point in wearing designer clothing.

  The perfume was so harsh, she could almost taste it, almost like a lily being shoved in her mouth.

  “You wanted to see me?” Jane asked as she closed the door behind her.

  Extra makeup told of Winston’s tiredness. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Jane had known her too long not to spot the dark circles covered with concealer.

  Winston introduced the two women in her office. Pamela Evers, the brown-eyed blonde, had her hair tucked in a clip on the back of her head. Her eyes were red and face pale. The other, Trish Peterson, had dark hair that went to the middle of her back. Her high cheekbones would make most professional models jealous. Trish stuck some long strands of hair behind her ear as if she knew she was being assessed.

  Bad habit of Jane’s. She couldn’t just meet someone, she had to read them.

  Winston scooped up two photographs from the desk. “Would you say these pictures are of the same man?” She handed them off to Jane.

  Jane glanced between them both, then back again. Hard to tell when someone blew the face off one. “They look similar in build, but the tattoos don’t match. I would say they’re not.”

  “Ms. Evers husband died a couple of weeks ago. That’s the body taken to the medical examiner’s office.” Winston pointed to the photo on the right. “The other is her husband. The M.E. said the man they have is her husband, Phillip Evers. She doesn’t believe it is.” Winston tapped on the autopsy report.

  “So, either the M.E.’s office made a major mistake or something’s wonky.” Jane released a low breath of air through her teeth. If there was an error, that would mean a lawsuit and bad press for her friends at the morgue.

  “Can you make a phone call and find out?” Winston asked.

  “Sure.” Jane glanced at Ms. Evers, her knuckles white from holding the tissue in her hand tight. “Can I take the photos and report with me?”

  “Take anything you need,” Ms. Evers said. “I just want to know the truth.”

  Jane took the documents and headed back to her office. She rehashed both pictures in her mind. If she were a betting woman, she’d place her money on Ms. Evers’ opinion that the man in the autopsy report was not her husband. A wife would know. Deep down, Jane would know whether it was Cam on that table.

  She shook off the thought and sat down at her desk, grabbing her phone. Having the direct line to one of the examiner’s kept her from getting stuck going through the loop.

  “Duval County Medical Examiner,” the friendly voice responded to Jane’s call. “Fred McCay’s office.”

  “Is Fred available?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Jane Bayou.”

  “Please hold.”

  While she waited, Jane read the autopsy report with care. The basic facts were someone had shot Evers in the chest, then when he was down on the floor, they shot him in the face twice.

  Good way to try to disguise a body. If this isn’t Phillip Evers, he most likely did the shooting.

  The M.E. recovered two twenty-two caliber bullets from the dead man’s brain. The chest wound had been a through and through, killing him instantly. Tox results showed traces of cocaine in his system. The picture of the dead man had to come from the police because there was no way the M.E. would give the widow a photo of her husband looking like that.

  The man in the bathing suit photo was more muscular. Then again, he might have lost some muscle tone before he died, especially if he’d been ill or on drugs.

  “Hey, Jane, calling me for more ribs?”

  “You’re first on my list at our next barbeque, Fred.” She smiled. They shared a few pleasantries, then she got into the issue. “I’m calling about a body.”

  “Well, we have one or two ’round here. Who you looking for?”

  “Phillip Evers.”

  “Let me guess, wife is over there claiming we screwed up and got her husband mixed up with someone else.”

  “So, you’ve already checked.”

  “Tripled-checked. I’ll guarantee you that man who came in is the same one found on the floor of that living room.”

  “She swears the tats are wrong. Got a picture that kind of proves it. Maybe the friend’s identification was off.”

  “Didn’t rely on the f
riend,” Fred said. “The dead guy’s prints were in the system. That is definitely Phillip Evers lying in cold storage.”

  After a few more minutes, Jane hung up. There’s no way the man in the morgue could be Pamela Evers’ husband. It just didn’t make sense. Jane pulled up the Evers’ incident on the internet. Two assailants had broken into their home, killing one, harming a pregnant woman who lost a child.

  Jane shuddered.

  People losing their babies was a sore spot. The Lord had blessed her with healthy children and mild pregnancies. Not everyone in her family had been so lucky.

  She crossed the hallway and paused outside Winston’s office, unsure how the wife would take what she had to suggest. After a second of stalling, she inhaled a deep breath and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  She entered.

  All three women looked her way.

  “Did you find out anything?” Winston asked.

  “Yeah. They triple checked the results to make sure. The man who died in your house is definitely Phillip Evers.” Jane made a point of watching Pamela Evers’ reaction.

  “It is not.” She bolted up and walked to the window. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Though she won’t say it, Trish thinks I’m crazy as well.”

  Jane stared at the distraught woman near the window who had turned to face her. There was no sign of deception.

  “I’m not saying I don’t believe you.” Jane leaned back against the credenza.

  “But you just said…”

  “I said that body is definitely Phillip Evers. Seems Mr. Evers had a record, so the medical examiner identified him through fingerprints, not just your friend’s identification.”

  “A record! For what?” Trish asked.

  “Robbery, assault, and drug possession.”

  Trish stared in disbelief.

  “There’s no way that’s true.” Pamela glanced between each woman. “Phillip was a kind, gentle man. He’d never hurt anyone.” She turned her back on them again, taking a swipe at her eye. “This makes no sense.”

  “The man in the morgue doesn’t have a tattoo on his right shoulder either. So, there’s only one thing that makes sense.”

  “What’s that?” Trish asked. She was nice looking, the kind who was more a cheerleader than a beauty contestant.

  “Ms. Evers, I don’t believe the man in the morgue is your husband. I believe your husband was using Phillip Evers’ name.” She waited a beat while this sank in.

  It took a second before Pamela’s eyes widened, then returned to normal. “What? But why?”

  “Running from the law is usually first on the list. Maybe he owed child support or was wanted for something. Or he might be hiding from someone, running scared. Could even be from this Evers fellow. Smart idea to use the name of the guy chasing you until he finds out.” Jane paused a moment. “But what it comes down to is your husband is likely still out there somewhere.”

  “Which means we can’t open probate.” Winston stood. “I’m not sure how you want to play this, but once the insurance company finds out, there’s a good chance they won’t pay out on the policy at all.”

  “I don’t care about the money.” Pamela took the documents she’d given Winston and tucked them in her briefcase. “I just need to know what’s going on.” She pushed back a strand of hair hanging loose from the clip. “There has to be something we’re missing. Phillip was always honest with me. There has to be a mistake somewhere.”

  Jane knew denial could run deep, especially where love was concerned. She glanced at Winston who kept her eyes pinned on Pamela Evers.

  “I need to find my husband.” Pamela balled a tissue in her hands. “Will you two help me?”

  “That’s really more Jane’s department than mine,” Winston said.

  “Well?” Pamela looked Jane in the eye.

  After Jane had outlined her fees, Trish took hold of Pamela’s arm. “Let’s wait a day or two. This is a lot of information to decipher.”

  Jane wouldn’t be able to wait if it were her husband missing. She’d need to know.

  “I don’t need to wait.” Pamela jerked her wallet from her purse. “Do you prefer a check or a credit card?” she asked Jane.

  Chapter 6

  Though not quite six, the sun was beginning to fade. Pamela stared past the sparkling blue pool to the back fence. The place where she’d almost died. Wished she’d died. How could anyone make it through something like this?

  “Would you like some dinner?”

  Pamela startled. She’d forgotten Trish was still there. Pamela hadn’t had any time to herself to process all that had occurred. When she woke at the hospital, Trish was seated next to the bed. Anytime Pamela broke down, Trish would be right there to pick up the pieces. Sometimes Pamela wanted to yell for her to go home. It didn’t help she didn’t even remember her from school, which made her a virtual stranger. Pamela hadn’t had many friends in her life. She was the shy, quiet one, moving from place to place. She never fit in even with swimming. She’d come to know one or two other swimmers, then her parents would move her to another location and a better coach.

  The sad part was, she didn’t even remember going to school with Trish. Probably why she wanted her gone. Pamela sighed. The truth was she wanted a melt down without anyone seeing.

  But if Trish left, she would be all alone.

  If they hadn’t bumped into each other at the Town Center when Pamela was eating dinner with Phillip, Trish wouldn’t be here now. One minute Pamela was grateful over such an unexpected meeting, the next angry.

  Stop it, she berated herself. The issue wasn’t Trish. Pamela just wasn’t used to being taken care of. Mom and Dad did their best, but they probably shouldn’t have had children. Never hanging around to take care of her even when she was ill, always having nannies do their job.

  “Pamela? Did you hear me?” Trish asked. “I’m baking a chicken.”

  “I can smell it cooking.” Basil drifted to her room. Pamela bit back her irritation. Her friend was only trying to help. “I’m not hungry, but thanks.” She returned her stare outside. Go home, please. After a few seconds of silence with Trish just standing in the doorway to her room, Pamela said, “I don’t know what to make of all this.”

  “Neither do I.” Trish took a step closer. “Are you sure it’s smart to hire that investigator? In my experience, they aren’t exactly honest.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A guy ripped off my sister a few years ago. She hired a P.I. to locate the shyster, and the investigation took over six months, and he still didn’t locate the guy. All the while the P.I. charged for meals and mileage along with his hourly fee.” Trish crossed her arms over her chest. “My sister lost almost as much to the investigator as she did the guy who ripped her off.”

  “I’m not sure about the investigator, but Ms. Black obviously doesn’t need the money. That blazer she had on was a Tom Ford.” Pamela caught the quizzical look on Trish’s face. “Her outfit probably cost close to three grand.”

  “Whoa.” Trish shook her head. “How do you know that?”

  “My dad bought me one when I graduated from college. She’s a rich widow, just like me.” Pamela’s voice lowered to a whisper. “We’re kindred spirits.” A chill crawled down her back.

  Trish nodded as if she understood, but she didn’t. She wasn’t part of their sisterhood. A sorority most wives never wanted to be a member of. Pamela let out a weighted sigh.

  The timer went off in the kitchen.

  “You’ve hardly eaten anything the past couple of days. I’ll fix you a little bit just to keep your strength up.” Trish disappeared from the room.

  Pamela’s irritation returned.

  Go home, please.

  She returned her gaze out the window to the spot in the backyard where her life changed forever.

  Chapter 7

  Jane had left the office with Pamela’s one-thousand-dollar retainer check shortly after she’d signed a contract. The
y’d scheduled a time to meet at the Evers’ house the next day. Ms. Evers wanted to begin sooner, but Jane had other priorities, her kids.

  After stopping at the bank, she headed home only to get stuck in slow-moving traffic thanks to a couple of accidents and the rain.

  She hated evening traffic driving into Mandarin. A Lincoln Navigator cut across two lanes of traffic to get off the highway. He forced cars to slam on their brakes and skid on the wet surface, including Jane.

  She leaned hard on the horn.

  “Go back where you came from!” she yelled. In her younger days, she wouldn’t have thought twice about using her middle finger to get her point across. But these days, too many drivers had a short fuse and a loaded gun. Besides, her minister might be in the car behind her, an embarrassment she could do without.

  Forty-two minutes later, she pulled into the driveway. She got out of the car and ran inside to keep from getting too wet from the misty rain. She entered to a spicy aroma and her stomach growled.

  “I’m home,” she yelled to the kids and their babysitter, Kayla Holmes.

  “Mom!” Liz came running from the kitchen. Her blonde ponytail was falling from the band.

  “How was your day?” Jane pulled her into a hug.

  “Good. And yours?” Her youngest asked.

  “Wonderful now.” Jane leaned into Liz’s ear. “Something smells good.”

  “Tacos.”

  “Yummy.” Jane slid her jacket off and hung it on the tree just inside the door. “How’d you do on your spelling test?”

  “Got an A.”

  “Awesome.” Jane high-fived her daughter.

  “Oh, I’ve got to go help Kayla.” Liz disappeared into the kitchen. Jane loved that kid, even if she had the attention span of a hamster on three cans of Mountain Dew.

  Jane used a letter opener from the table in the foyer to open the electric bill. The best thing about February was it kept the bill from being too high. Too bad July would make up for it. She read the postcard from her church, reminding her about the annual youth auction coming up.