Dead Cold Mysteries Books 5-8

by Blake Banner

  “OK. So we are looking at somebody who knows about Lefthand Canyon, who knows about the Shack and Coyote’s reputation, and about Kathleen’s association with this place. All of that points…”

  “To her family.”

  “So the question becomes, out of that small group, who benefited from her death?”

  “That’s what we are going to look into as soon as we get back, but a couple of people leap out at you, don’t they?”

  “Three names jump out at me, Stone. In terms of who benefits, Mo and Anne-Marie had reason to want Kathleen out of the way. And Mo’s friendship with Greg and Pat means he was very likely to know about Coyote’s signature.”

  She hesitated while I pulled up and parked outside the hotel. I killed the engine and looked at her. “And the third?”

  “Pat. Pat was the one with the most intimate knowledge of this place, the Shack, Sly, and Coy. But I can’t think of a motive for her.”

  “I agree. But there is a lot we don’t know yet. Intimate relationships are the ones that breed the strongest and darkest motives for murder. And in my experience, relationships don’t come much closer than sisters.”

  We climbed out and I stood looking around me at that mini, bucolic utopia nestled among the mountains. I muttered, “This other Eden, demi-paradise, this fortress built by Nature for herself against infection and the hand of war.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Shakespeare. He was talking about England, but it kind of describes this place, doesn’t it? A fortress built by Nature against infection. But you are never more at risk than when you feel safe. Betrayal, the betrayal of those who are close to us, those whom we love and believe love us. That is the greatest danger of all.”

  She put her hand on my shoulder. “You want one more Bison steak and a night of rest and healing in demi-paradise before we head back to the infected lands, or you want to go home now?”

  I thought about it. “Five AM gets us to the 43rd at 8 AM the next morning.”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  I called the captain as I climbed the steps.

  TWENTY ONE

  The drive back was tedious and uneventful. We ended up stopping, around midnight, at a motel near Lake Erie and sleeping for four hours. Which meant we finally pulled in to the 43rd Station House at noon. The first thing we did was drop in on the captain for a debriefing. He was less than amused by the fact that we had, arguably, entered Greg Carson’s property illegally, but satisfied that we had ‘assisted’ the county sheriff in busting a drugs trafficking ring.

  “But,” he said, gazing out the window at the fall leaves on the plain trees. “If I understand you, John, the sheriff of Lee County asked for your assistance because he did not believe the murder was committed there. You went there believing it was, and effectively proved that he was right in the first place. So you are now back at square one. Would you say that was a fair assessment?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, but it was Dehan who answered.

  “It’s not a fair assessment, Captain.”

  He shifted his gaze to her. “It’s not, Carmen?”

  “No, sir. In the first place, Sheriff Watson had done squat. He kicked it back to us because he said he hadn’t the resources to investigate, but in fact he had simply assumed that the murder took place here. He didn’t prove it, he assumed it. Our investigation not only busted a drugs ring that was selling dope in New York, we also found evidence, related to that ring, that will assist in clearing up the case. Evidence the sheriff should have uncovered himself.”

  “I see. So what is your next move?”

  I took a deep breath and sighed. “I want to know what life insurance Kathleen had and who benefited from it. So we’ll be talking to her insurance company. I also want to talk again to Mo and Anne-Marie. They are the obvious beneficiaries of her death. Presumably he benefited from any life insurance, and they both benefited because they were free to marry.”

  He frowned. “I thought you’d looked at that and discarded it.”

  I nodded. “Yes, and it still doesn’t make a lot of sense. Why kill her but divorce Isaac? But still, we have to look again because we obviously missed something.”

  “OK, perhaps her life insurance, assuming she has any, will provide an answer.”

  Back downstairs, while Dehan went through Kathleen’s file to find out what policies she had, I called Mo and told him I wanted him and Anne-Marie to come over to the station for a chat. He said they’d be there by one.

  When I hung up and looked across the desk at Dehan, she had a face like brain-ache. She tossed a sheet of paper on the desk in front of me. It told me Kathleen did indeed have a life insurance policy, it told me how much for and who the beneficiary was. I stared at it for a long moment, then tossed it back.

  “Find out who took it out. Mo and Anne-Marie will be here in half an hour. I’m going to talk to Mo. I want you to take Anne-Marie. Don’t lean on her. Be nice. Be understanding, woman of the world stuff. Ask her what she knows about Kathleen’s movements the morning she was supposed to have left. Go over it in detail, step by step.”

  “OK. Are we telling them we know she didn’t go to Colorado?”

  I shook my head. “No. Let them think we still believe she was killed out there. All we are trying to do is piece together her movements that morning. I want them both relaxed and off their guard. Then I want to compare their stories. So press her for details, as many details as you can. That’s where the devil is, in the detail. And that’s where they might start contradicting each other.”

  They arrived at five past one. We greeted them cordially and said we’d be more comfortable upstairs where no one would disturb us. Mo looked a bit disconcerted when Dehan led Anne-Marie away, but I smiled and assured him we just wanted to discuss different things, and this would save time.

  I led him into the interrogation room and we sat. He leaned on the table and asked me, “How’d it go in Seven Hills?”

  “Inconclusive so far. I wanted to ask you about Kathleen’s movements on the Friday morning that she left for Colorado. But before we get to that, tell me something. What do you know about a guy called El Coyote…?”

  He smiled. “Coy? He’s a friend of Greg’s. I don’t know much. I believe he’s some kind of wetback, if you’ll forgive the expression, Detective. He likes to make people believe he ran with a Mexican gang when he was younger, likes to play the hard man. I don’t know if it’s true. Folks up in the mountains ain’t easily impressed, if you take my meaning.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I noticed. So you don’t know if his stories are true?”

  He gave his head a little twitch. “I don’t know. He liked to play with knives, and he used to tell this story that he was known in Mexico for cutting folks’ heads off, but I never gave it much credit, to be honest.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’d heard.” I nodded. “OK, Mo, what I really want to talk about today is Kathleen’s movements before she left. First of all, how did she travel, and where to?”

  “Well, to be honest, Detective, I have never been sure. See, we’d had a bit of a fallin’ out, on account of she thought I wasn’t spendin’ enough time with her and Baby. So she didn’t actually tell me how she was goin’. She just said she was gonna go see my parents. I always assumed she took the train or the bus. But she might have flown, I suppose. Or she might have rented a car.”

  “OK. So talk me through what happened that morning.”

  “Jeez.” He gave his head another twitch. “It’s a long time ago, but I’ll do my best.” He thought for a moment. “I recall I had spent the night at Mom’s place.”

  “Why was that?”

  He looked a little surprised. “Well, I had to be up early to go with Isaac. He had a friend who was maybe gonna give me some work. So I had to be up early and Baby, bless her, she was keepin’ us up all night.”

  I nodded understanding. “Sure, I get it. But you didn’t go with Isaac in the end.”

  “Oh, w
ell, uh, no. He phoned to say he’d got up late. So we’d go on Monday.”

  “OK, so what time did you get home?”

  “Well, I can’t remember exactly…”

  “Did you have breakfast at home?”

  “Uh, yeah. I reckon I did, yeah.”

  “And how was Kathleen over breakfast?”

  “Like I say, she was a bit mad at me for havin’ left her alone.”

  “Did you often get mad at each other at that time?”

  “No!” He laughed. “Most of the time we was inseparable. Everybody used to comment on it, how close we was. We never had what you’d call a fight. We was real close.”

  “So what happened after breakfast?”

  He shrugged. “We talked a bit. She told me she was mad and she told me why…”

  I interrupted him. “Now, I’m a little confused. You said she was mad because you hadn’t been spending enough time with her and Baby—Sinead, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But you just said that you were real close… So how come you hadn’t been spending time with her?”

  “Well, no, I mean, it was just that night. Maybe a couple of other nights, if I had to be up early.”

  “OK, so she told you why she was mad, and what happened then? How come you didn’t make up?”

  “Well, she said she was goin’ up to see my folks.”

  “Did she often do that?”

  “No.”

  “Had she ever done that before?”

  “Not really.”

  “Not really…?”

  “I mean, never.”

  “Did that strike you as strange, Mo? Her suddenly up and going off to see your folks like that?”

  “Well, I guess it did. But she was mad and women can do real strange things when they’re mad.”

  I laughed. “You got that right! And it sounds like she was pretty mad!”

  He laughed with me, relieved at the drop in tension. “She was that!”

  I stopped laughing and frowned. “Odd though, isn’t it, that she was that mad. You know, you say you had a great relationship, never had fights, and yet she got so mad about you staying at her mom’s place… Doesn’t seem much to get that mad about.”

  He swallowed. “I guess…”

  “So she was real mad, and not in the mood to make up and kiss.”

  “Nope.”

  “So what happened next?”

  “Well, uh… She left. Said she was goin’ to see my folks and have a break for a few days. And she walked out.”

  I nodded and thought about it for a while. Then I stood and said, “Will you excuse me for five minutes, Mo? I’ll be right back.”

  He looked a little anxious. “Sure…”

  I stepped into the corridor and walked down to the room where Dehan was talking to Anne-Marie. I poked my head in and they both looked up. I smiled at Anne-Marie, then said to Dehan, “A word?”

  She came out and closed the door behind her.

  “Give me five minutes with Anne-Marie, will you? Take Mo. Just make him go over again, in minute detail, what happened on the Friday morning, and where he spent Thursday night.”

  She frowned at me. “Care to tell me what we’re doing?”

  I nodded. “As soon as I know I’ll tell you. Just go with it for now.”

  She walked down the way I’d come and I stepped in to the room with Anne-Marie, closed the door and sat opposite her.

  “Anne-Marie, I want to make this as painless and simple as possible. Nobody is judging anybody here, we are all adults. All we are doing is trying to unravel this mess and get at what happened to Kathleen up in Lee County…”

  She frowned at me. “What do you mean?”

  I smiled and placed both hands on the table. “OK, Mo has just come clean with me and told me that you and he were having an affair before Kathleen’s death.” I laughed. “I have to tell you that that came as a surprise to absolutely nobody!” She laughed nervously. I went on in a reassuring voice. “Now, I know that he spent the Thursday night with you, he told me. So what I need you to do is confirm that for me, and tell me exactly what happened on Friday morning.”

  She hesitated, then flopped back in her chair, smiling. “Oh, Lord! That’s kind of a relief. It’s like a weight off my chest to be able to admit that.” I smiled and waited. “Yes, Mo spent the night with me. And then next morning he went back to his apartment…”

  “I don’t mean to be indelicate,” I gave her my best lopsided, man of the world smile, “but being in the first flush of a new romance, that would have been what, about eleven in the morning?”

  She blushed and gave a pretty, demure laugh. “About that, yes.”

  “Now, just clear something up for me, Anne-Marie, how did this work? Isaac…?”

  I paused so she would fill in the gap. She obliged. “Isaac stayed in our apartment and me and Mo stayed at Mel’s.”

  “And Mel?”

  She sighed. “Things had got real bad between me and Isaac and I had been stayin’ at Mel’s most all the time for about a month, I guess. She’s real fond of me and I am of her too. So I had my room there and everything. Well,” she grinned and winked. “Mo slept…” She made speech marks with her fingers, “‘on the couch’ and he’d sneak up to my room when Mel was a’bed.”

  I nodded. It made perfect sense.

  I stood. “Thank you, Anne-Marie. You have been very helpful. That’s all I needed to know for today. If you want to wait downstairs, your husband will be out in a moment.”

  She went down and I went back to where Mo, looking slightly ruffled and irritable, was talking to a very stolid and impassive-looking Dehan.

  I sat next to her and stared Mo in the eye. “You should have told me that you were sleeping with Anne-Marie before you split up with Kathleen.” He made like a goldfish for a couple of seconds and I carried on. “Lucky for you, Kathleen was killed in Lee County. A lie like that puts you right up the suspects list.” He swallowed hard. “Pat still lives with your mother, right?”

  He nodded. “We all do.”

  “That’s cozy.”

  “We’re a close family.”

  “She work? She go out?”

  “Not much.”

  “OK, you can go. Your wife is waiting downstairs.”

  He got up without saying anything and hurried out. I sat for a while staring at the empty space Mo had recently occupied. After a bit I turned and looked at Dehan. I said, “I’ll be damned.”

  She nodded. “You probably will be. Feel like cluing me in yet?”

  I shook my head. “Let’s go and talk to Pat. It’s high time we did that.”

  TWENTY TWO

  In the car, headed north and east toward Morris Park, Dehan turned in her seat, with her back against the door, and watched me drive. Eventually, she said, “I guess it’s no great surprise, right? It’s usually the husband. Or the wife. And that’s what you’re thinking, right? Mo did it. That’s why he lied about his affair with Anne-Marie.”

  “Put all the pieces together.”

  “Yeah, if I could just find the straight edges and the corners I’d do that.”

  “Mo pretended he was not with his wife on Thursday night. How many husbands have you come across who pretend they were not with their wife when they should have been with her?”

  “You have a point, not many.”

  “Where was he?”

  “With Anne-Marie.”

  “So she is his alibi.”

  “Oh. I see. So it’s both of them. That’s pretty standard too.”

  “But we arrive right back at the same question. Why divorce Isaac, but kill Kathleen?”

  She groaned and flopped her head back. Then narrowed her eyes at me. “You know, don’t you?”

  I eyed her sidelong and imitated an English accent, “I have taught you my methods, Watson. Observe and deduce. Eliminate the impossible…”

  “I know, and whatever is left, however improbable, is the truth.”

 
I pulled in to Van Nest and parked outside Mel’s house. We climbed out of the Jag and I stood a moment, smelling the first hint of frost on the air as the sun slipped behind the treetops, where copper leaves were beginning to wither and fall. We

  pushed through the gate into her garden, climbed the stairs to her door, and rang the bell.

  Mel beamed at us. “Well, look who it is! Isn’t it Detectives Stone and Dehan! Well isn’t that a lovely treat all the same. Will yiz not come in and have a cup of tea? I was just putting the water on! Baby’s just having a nap upstairs.”

  She bustled in toward the kitchen as Dehan followed her and I closed the door. We heard the tap and the water splashing into the kettle.

  “Can’t you feel the cold in the air? It’ll soon be Christmas and it’s not Halloween yet. Doesn’t time just fly!”

  I stemmed the flow. “Mrs. Vuolo. We’re actually here to talk to Pat. Is she in?”

  “Pat? Yes. Isn’t she in her room? She’s just after going up. Go on. I’ll call yiz when your tea’s ready. Go on! It’s the last door on your left.”

  As we climbed the broad stairs she called after us, “Will yiz have some biscuits? I have some nice chocolate biscuits. Will you have some?”

  We told her we would and arrived at the landing. It was an ample, galleried affair with five bedrooms and a bathroom leading off it. We went to the last one on the left. I could hear the sound of a muffled TV inside. I knocked.

  “What?”

  “Pat, this is Detectives Stone and Dehan, from the New York Police Department. Can you spare us five minutes of your time?”

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the door opened and she peered out at us. She was short and very thin. Her skin was pallid and her eyes were hollow, as though from too much sleep and not enough sun. She had a woolen hat on her head, a stud in her nose and fingerless gloves on her hands. Her nails were bitten. “Cops?” I nodded and we showed her our badges. “What do you want?”

  “Can we come in? It’s easier than talking on the landing, or shouting through the door.”

  She stared at me a moment. “I guess.” She stood back to let us in. “The room’s a mess.”