by N. C. Lewis
"News?" asked Officer Chambers, with the slightest glint of curiosity in his eyes.
"The Barry Battles case."
"Oh, that!" Chambers shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like detective work; the uncertainty and long hours were the reason he clung to desk work throughout his career.
Nicked tapped his fingers on the table. "Abay Gómez is dead. He left a suicide note confessing to killing Barry Battles."
"Case solved," said Chambers, dusting off crumbs from his lap. He wanted to get back to the police department office, tidy up his desk a little, and be home in time for the ball game. "All that remains is the paperwork."
But something didn't feel right to Nick. Somehow the revelation about Abay seemed too straightforward. There was something missing. Where is the less obvious option?
Back at police department headquarters, Chambers worked merrily on the never-ending slew of paperwork. Nick paced.
"Leave it," Chambers said looking up from a report that had taken twenty minutes to fill in. "Detective Wilson and her team nailed it. Anyway, it's not our responsibility. You don't have enough time to chase around half-baked leads." He gestured toward the pile of paperwork. "Let it go, Detective King. We've got our own work to attend to."
That did it for Nick. He marched toward Lieutenant Kostopoulos' office. He would continue to work the case with or without the lieutenant's permission, at least until the medical examiner's report had been filed. But it would be easier with the lieutenant on board.
His boss didn't seem surprised to see Nick. Neither did he seem too agreeable. He didn't offer Nick a seat.
"Detective Wilson is working the case," the lieutenant said, tapping his pen on his desk.
"They're overstretched," Nick responded without hesitation.
The lieutenant leaned forward, lowering his voice. "The Feds are also working the case."
"Different angle, no doubt," argued Nick.
Again, the lieutenant tapped his pen. "Detective Wilson tells me Mr. Abay Gómez left a suicide note. You got something new? Something to sell? New leads? Anything?"
Nick shook his head. "Not really."
Lieutenant Kostopoulos looked hard at Nick before speaking. "I can't waste men on a wild-goose chase."
Nick waited.
The lieutenant slammed down the pen. "Speak with Detective Wilson and get Officer Chambers on board. You and Chambers have both got plenty of other work, but you can keep this one warm for a couple of days. After that, I want you back in my office."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, and Detective King..."
"Yes?"
He looked hard at Nick. "There's no extension on this one, got it?"
In the hallway outside the lieutenant's office, Nick dialed Detective Wilson.
"The lieutenant's let me off the leash with the Barry Battles case." Nick's voice held a renewed energy.
"Okay, that's good," said Detective Wilson. "We are working the jealous girlfriend angle. We picked up Doris Corley, the secretary."
"Is she singing?"
"Not yet. We've established she had a relationship with Barry Battles and Abay Gómez. She had access to both victims' diaries. In fact, she was the one who made the appointments."
"What about means?"
"We're checking whether she has a registered gun—small caliber. I've requested a search warrant for her apartment, waiting on the judge."
"What's your gut?"
The line fell silent for several seconds. "She didn't do it."
Back at his desk, Nick picked up the Barry Battles case file and went through it again as Chambers whistled a tuneless melody. He'd tell Chambers about his temporary reassignment to help with the case when he figured an angle to work. And there was always the possibility that Doris Corley was the perp and they'd find a gun in her apartment or at Battles Equity Partners offices. He doubted it very much but didn’t rule it out.
It was late in the afternoon that the breakthrough came, just when he was thinking of packing up and going home.
"Nick, darling, it's me, Amy. I've just gotten back home. I want to give you an update on Mrs. Battles."
Amy described the meeting, going line by line through the conversation. She told Nick that Judy Battles had appeared a little tipsy, had complained about her financial situation. And finally Amy said, "As we were preparing to leave, Judy Battles said she was going to kill Abay Gómez."
Nick sat up straighter, surprised. "Isn't that interesting?"
"Why is that?"
"Abay Gómez was found shot to death in his office."
Amy's voice rose an octave and sounded out a whistle. "Are you serious?"
"Yep. I think it's time I had a little chat with Mrs. Battles, don't you?"
"Be careful, Nick."
"I'll take Chambers along for the ride."
"Okay. Do you think I should still speak with Amelia Dubois?"
"Probably not." He thought for a moment and changed his mind. "I guess you could ask her about Noel. You might get some background on Barry Battles. "
"Okay, I'll drive over with Danielle. I believe she is staying in the Cherry Towers Hotel. Do you have her room number?"
"I'll find out and text it to you." Nick stood up. Here was an angle he could work. "Come on, Officer Chambers."
"Where we going?"
"Route 360 by the Iron Bridge."
Chambers looked at his watch; it was almost five p.m. Then he glanced up at Nick, decided not to argue, and sighed unhappily. "I don't suppose this trip involves a donut shop, does it?"
Chapter 28
Judy Battles wasn't pleased to see Detective Nick King and Officer Bob Chambers that same afternoon. She welcomed them with all the patience and courtesy of a prison warden attending to an annoying inmate. Still wearing the lavender silk nightie with a lacy robe wrapped tight around her slender figure, she led them into the conservatory.
Mrs. Battles indicated they sit in the stainless steel sofa chairs and fixed herself a drink, taking her time as if she was considering how she might answer the questions she understood were coming.
Chambers sunk deep into the chair, which was much more comfortable than its cold-steel shape suggested and glanced at his watch wondering whether he would be home in time to enjoy the ball game. He crossed his arms like he had seen the detectives do in the movies and half closed his eyes like Hercule Poirot.
Nick sat on the edge of his seat, leaning slightly forward, trying not to notice Mrs. Battles' attractive face and the gentle curve of her body through her flimsy nightwear. He wondered how a woman of such beauty ended up with a slob like Barry Battles, then he remembered, Barry had money; she was his trinket.
At last, she faced them, drink in hand, eyes wide and defiant. "I'd offer you a drink, but you're on duty." Mrs. Battles folded her hands across her chest. "What is it you want from me?"
"Why don't you take a seat, Mrs. Battles," Nick said, gesturing at a vacant sofa chair.
"No thank you, I prefer to stand."
Nick didn't beat around the bush after that. "Do you know of any reason why somebody would want to kill your husband?"
Mrs. Battles glared. "Detective King, I have already answered that question to one of your colleagues."
"Can you answer it again?"
She gave him a challenging look. "Read the police file."
He changed tack. "Why would Mr. Abay Gómez want your husband dead?"
She shrugged. "Does a rat need a reason?"
"I'd like to hear your thoughts."
"What for? I've given a statement. I've no idea who killed my husband, nor do I know why. The Austin Police Department is just playing at cops and robbers with this one; they'll never find the killer. I don't think they are looking, really."
Chambers' head fell onto his shoulder, his chest rising and falling with a low rumble. He shifted onto his side to get a little more comfortable.
Mrs. Battles took a gulp from her glass. "Utter and total incompetence!" She gla
red from Nick to the snoozing Officer Chambers.
"Chambers, wake up!" Nick barked.
Officer Chambers opened his eyes, awareness growing slowly until at last he said in a robotic voice, "This is a matter of immense importance. Please answer Detective King's questions."
Mrs. Battles balled her fists. "I want my lawyer."
Nick ignored that. "Someone found Mr. Abay Gómez dead at the offices of Battles Equity Partners earlier today. Someone shot him at close range in the face. Where were you between six a.m. and eight thirty a.m. this morning?"
"How dare you!"
"Mrs. Battles, please answer the question," Nick insisted.
"This is ridiculous." She stormed toward the bar and poured another drink. "If you think I have anything to do with Mr. Abay Gómez's death, you are even more absurd than the detective I spoke to earlier. Yes, I wanted Abay dead for not inviting me to my husband's birthday party at the office headquarters. But that was just a thought, not something I would do. And as for my husband, his death has left me destitute." She waved her arms around in a defeated manner. "In a few days, all this will be gone."
She sobbed.
Nick had heard all he needed and turned to leave, but Chambers, warming to the situation, fired off a parting question. "Why don't you confess now? You will feel so much better."
"Go!" Mrs. Battles shouted, pointing toward the door. "Get out!"
Chapter 29
Nick drew a large intake of breath. He sat in an unmarked police car on the gravel driveway of the Battles homestead counting to ten. Officer Chambers is a liability, he thought. He started the engine, clutched the steering wheel, and let the vehicle idle for several minutes. Eventually, he turned to Chambers staring nervously out of the windshield. "Chambers!"
Chambers braced himself, but Nick softened his tone. "Stay alert on the job, please."
"Yes, sir," Chambers answered, visibly relaxing, secretly looking at his watch. He was certain he'd be home in time for the ball game.
Nick went over in his mind the conversation with Judy Battles and jotted a few things down in his notepad, then he turned to Chambers. "What did you make of it?"
Chambers folded his arms across his chest. "It's like the movies…" he stammered as if thinking of something more to say, but his mind was on the upcoming ball game, and his stomach empty. "The wife did it! All we got to do is tie down a few loose ends and we can put this one to bed, and Judy Battles behind bars."
Before Nick could answer, his cell phone rang. He picked up on the second ring.
"Nick, it's Mary Wilson. Got news. Can you talk?"
"Sure, what you got?"
"Remember the seventh clown, the one that showed up late?"
"Yep."
"Doris Corley broke down under questioning. She has lofty expectations, wants to marry a wealthy man, and with her looks she might—"
"What's the seventh clown got to do with Doris?" Nick interrupted with frustration. Detective Wilson always took her time getting to the punch line.
"She ordered the outfit for him."
"Him?"
"Yes, him."
That caught Nick off guard. He wasn't certain about Judy Battles and half wondered whether she might be the seventh clown. "Go on," he said. "Go on."
"Doris purchased the clown outfit, bagpipes, and kilt here in Austin. She understood it was to be kept quiet. Five hundred dollars is a lot of cash for an aspirational gold digger like Doris." There was a touch of jealousy in Detective Wilson's voice. Doris was stunningly beautiful; Mary Wilson could at best be described as plain.
"I digress," said Detective Wilson. "We know who paid her the cash, and we know who the seventh clown is."
"The one and the same person." Nick guessed correctly.
"Got legs in the old dog yet!" laughed Detective Wilson.
"Okay," said Nick, tiring of the game. "Who is the seventh clown?"
Detective Wilson lowered her voice to a whisper. "Noel Laird, your son-in-law."
Chapter 30
For what seemed like an eternity, Nick remained silent. The steady low churn of the car engine reminded him of a steamship leaving the harbor, sailing to an unseen destination. In his mind's eye he saw the wake, ripples extending outward in an orderly pattern. But this—this was messy. What would he say to Ruby? And what about Amy? It was as if a bomb had been primed and everyone was waiting for the devastating explosion.
"I thought you'd want to know." Detective Wilson said at last. Her tone felt like cotton candy to his ears. "They haven't seen Noel in the office today, but we'll need to bring him in for questioning..." Her voice trailed off.
Officer Chambers stared at Nick and knew something important was going down. He strained his ears to hear the other side of the conversation but failed. Whatever it was, he hoped it wouldn't interfere with his enjoyment of the ball game. The big man shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dashboard.
But Nick didn't notice. His thoughts raced. One thing struck him. It struck him hard like an object propelled with great force. And it hurt. Is Noel a killer?
He raised a hand to his cheek, rolling the thought over in his mind. Noel had been acting strange ever since he and Amy had picked him and Ruby up at the airport. Then he walked out on Ruby. The man who couldn't hold down a job, the man suddenly promoted to the deputy at Battles Equity Partners, that very same man was a person of interest in the murder of Barry Battles. And that man was his son-in-law! It made little sense to Nick. He needed to speak with Noel.
"I haven't told downtown, yet," said Detective Wilson in a low whisper. "But I'll have to file something soon."
Nick climbed out of the car into the humidity and heat, cast a quick look around to ensure there was nobody within earshot, then said, "Do me a favor, Mary. Let me pick up Noel. I know where he's staying and—"
"So do I," interrupted Detective Wilson. The line fell silent. "Nick, you've got one hour. Then I'll have to reel him in."
"I'll keep you informed."
"Oh, and Nick..."
"Yes?"
"Mr. Abay Gómez's death wasn't suicide. Someone murdered him."
Chapter 31
Nick pulled the unmarked police car onto Route 360 and did a mental calculation. In the Friday early evening traffic, it would take him thirty minutes to get to the Five Star Motel. He stepped on the gas.
Chambers knew by the look on Nick's face he needed to take an indirect approach. "Where to now, boss?"
Nick kept his eyes on the road. "The Five Star Motel on Santiago Street, a couple of blocks from the interstate."
Chambers hoped there'd be a vending machine, so he could grab a packet of cookies and a chocolate bar. "What we going there for?"
"To pick up Noel Laird."
Chambers let out a low groan. At this rate, he'd never get home in time to watch the ball game. "Okay," he said reluctantly, "you're the boss, but fill me in on what's going down."
Nick told him.
They pulled into the pitted car lot of the Five Star Motel twenty minutes later. Chambers let out a muffled groan as they hurried toward the pink stucco building done in a phony Spanish hacienda style. The peeling paint and faded dirty windows covered with bars on the ground floor did little to ease his apprehension. He hoped for a vending machine, but on glancing up and seeing the F missing from the Five Star Motel sign, gave up all hope. His stomach rumbled.
Inside, Ethel Babish sat at the reception desk twirling a lock of her reddish-black, dyed hair and reading a glossy magazine. She looked up at the sound of the doors opening, recognizing Nick instantly.
"Detective King, to what do we owe this pleasure?" She wondered whether Alfred Thomas had sent him with a message for her, but the firm set of Nick's jaw and stare of his eyes told her otherwise. "And who is your friend?"
Officer Chambers gave a little nod but didn't speak.
Ethel continued, "Official business, eh?"
Nick placed both hands on the reception counter spreadin
g his fingers wide. "Room number for Noel Laird."
She looked from Nick to Officer Chambers then back again. "Haven't seen him all day. Smart dresser. Room 27A, for what it's worth."
Nick turned and hurried toward the elevators.
"Wait!" Ethel cried. She shuffled around in a drawer. "Take this, it's the door key," she said, handing Chambers a small key card. "And take the stairs; the elevator isn't working."
Room 27A was up two flights of stairs and to the left along a dingy corridor. Chambers' face seemed to swell, frog-like, as he gasped for breath, his nostrils flared, sucking in the musty air.
Nick got to the room number first and knocked gently on the door. "Noel, it's Nick, Ruby's dad. Open up. We need to talk."
Nothing.
He knocked hard and shouted. "Noel, open up!"
A door flew open, two doors down. A big, balding man with a fringe of black hair, tattooed arms as thick as tree trunks, stepped into the hall. "Hey you! Keep the noise down."
Nick flashed his badge. The man disappeared back into his room, muttering.
Nick placed an ear to the door, listening. "Don't think he's at home," he said, half turning to face his colleague. "Give me the key."
He slipped it in the lock, a little LED light flashed green, and there was a slight click. Nick pressed the handle, and the door swung inward.
The tiny, two-room apartment had an unmade bed, desk, chair, a small television, and a trash can that was overflowing with empty takeout cartons, wrappers, and packets. Other than that, it was empty.
Nick checked the bathroom. "No one here, either."
Chambers placed his hands on his hips and sniffed. "Looks like he's gone."
"Seems so."
"Now what?"
Chapter 32
The afternoon sun shone bright and hot as Amy and Danielle strolled into the main reception lobby of the Cherry Towers Hotel. Amy had visited the hotel on several occasions. She and Nick were good friends of the general manager, Patrick Crenshaw, who often attended her social dinners and enjoyed mixing with local celebrities, politicians, and business people.
