Sedona Law 5

by Dave Daren

“Okay,” AJ was now at the whiteboard making shorthand notes of all of this, “so that’s Leila. Who’s next?”

  “Clare Clearmont,” I said. “That would be me.”

  “Crazy ex-wife,” Vicki muttered.

  “Yes,” I nodded, “definitely the crazy ex-wife. She’s on medication, and has a history of psychiatric treatment. She’s also got a million dollar life insurance settlement coming her way. She’s probably got some old marital issues that something or another set off, which would give her something of a motive. Plus, she lied about her alibi.”

  “And all that stuff Leila was saying about stress vacations?” Vicki added. “I talked to a neighbor, who confirmed it. Said she watches Thad constantly, and she said when Jerry comes over, he and Leila scream and yell. She’s called the cops on them, they’re so bad.”

  “Did she tell you what these arguments are about?” I asked.

  “Custody,” Vicki shrugged, “child support. The past.”

  I frowned. “I don’t see how he could take custody with him living in that pigsty.”

  “I think that’s probably part of the neighbor’s point,” Vicki remarked.

  “Had the neighbor been to Jerry’s house?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Vicki said, “but when Jerry lived with Clare, apparently it was a health hazard. The neighbor said she would come over there and offer to clean just for Thad’s sake.”

  “So,” I sighed, “Clare’s unstable in so many ways, and they’ve got a stormy relationship. But that doesn’t make her a murderer.”

  “No,” Vicki conceded, “but then there’s the life insurance money.”

  “Always follow the money,” I murmured as I chewed my lip. Then I clapped my hands together. “Okay. I think we’ve covered Clare. Who else do we have?”

  “Allison and Ken,” Vicki said.

  “There’s a piece of work,” I snorted. “I’m biased right now, though, because we just talked to them.”

  “Right,” Vicki said, “but they came off shady by the end.”

  “Should we put them separate?” AJ said.

  “Yeah,” I nodded after a moment of deliberation, “I think they could be one without the other. So, Allison fakes being drunk, and then gives us this whole story about how she was in love with Jerry, and he was going to take her away with him to L.A. and help her become a big star.”

  “Did the story seem to lack a bit of romance?” Vicki asked.

  “Yes,” I chuckled dryly. “It seemed all about his connections, and how they would benefit her … ” I trailed off and frowned. “Wait. What the hell is this?”

  The tape playing in the background had stopped with the typical Hindu pop and was now onto some kind of other keyboard based pulsating sound that was so bad, I couldn’t even find the rhythm.

  “Korean,” Vicki suddenly announced with a furrowed brow. “This is Korean.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Vicki spoke Korean.

  “What are they saying?” I asked.

  She listened for a minute and then spoke slowly. “It’s a break up song. ‘You divorced me, and sent me away, because I couldn’t make the life you deserved. Shame on me. Shame on you. You left me with nothing. Nothing. Not even a crumb to win back my son’s heart, which you keep locked … in a box in a closet.’”

  “Damn,” AJ whistled. “That’s sad.

  “That’s about Clare,” I said confidently.

  “If he wrote it,” AJ argued.

  “He wrote it,” Vicki confirmed with a nod. “The Korean is bad, and the attempt at Korean poetry even worse.”

  The tape ended on that note, and we switched to the next one. It was the Hindu pop again.

  “So, we’re back to Clare,” I muttered and leaned back in my chair.

  “Then there’s the Wright Way guys,” AJ added.

  “You’re right,” I replied with a frown. “They seemed to have fallen off our radar. A bunch of convicted felons who Jerry screwed out of a job, basically. And they put out a hit on the other guy who was involved with Jerry.”

  “Right.” AJ nodded.

  “Did we investigate Wright Way fully?” I asked.

  “We got a copy of the bankruptcy report,” AJ replied as she twirled a dry erase marker between her fingers.

  “Perfect,” I said. “Can you send it to me?”

  “Sure.” She set the marker down and messed around on her laptop.

  I glanced away and over our table of research and evidence.

  “Why does Jerry have all this stuff in his safe?” I wondered as I ran a hand through my hair.

  “Fear of copyright infringement?” Vicki offered.

  “No,” I shook my head, “because why would he make all this music, record it, and keep it private?”

  “I keep my poetry private,” AJ chimed in.

  “That’s different,” I argued. “He’s a media professional. His whole life is about getting media ‘out there.’ What was he doing with all of this stuff?”

  Before anyone could answer, we heard the door to the office open.

  “Hello?” I heard my mother’s voice resonate.

  “Saffron,” Vicki called out. “We’re back here.”

  “Hey mom,” I greeted as she walked into the conference room. “How’s it going?”

  “Well,” she said, “I texted Vicki, and she said you guys were working late. So, I thought I’d bring you guys some sustenance.”

  “You brought snacks?” AJ asked as she eagerly eyed the basket in my mother’s hand.

  My mom set a wicker basket on the table and smiled.

  “First batch,” she announced.

  I looked into the basket and it had jars of salsa and kale chips.

  “Jimmy’s Red Hot, Purple Haaze Salsa,” I read out loud.

  “They put two A’s in ‘haze’,” AJ noticed.

  I rubbed my face.

  “We did that on purpose,” my mom said and winked at me. “It was Henry’s idea.”

  “That wasn’t what--” I started.

  “Wait,” AJ gasped and turned to gape at my mother. “You made this?”

  “Yes, we did,” my mom replied proudly.

  “This is the new Irving family business,” I sighed. “I guess you got the McGrath’s involved.”

  “Oh,” Mom said, “they’ve been so sweet. They’re just great people.”

  “How many jars did you make?” Vicki asked.

  “We did fifty jars for the test run,” my mother answered. “Perry set us up a meeting with Earth Market at the end of the month, so we did a test batch.” She wiped her forehead and rubbed her lower back. “It was a long night. You should see the kitchen.”

  AJ’s eyes grew wide. “You did that all in your kitchen?”

  “Sure,” my mom nodded, “where else would we do it?”

  AJ held one of the jars and examined it.

  “Go ahead, honey,” my mother told her. “Try it.”

  “I think we’ve got paper plates around here somewhere,” I said.

  “Yeah,” AJ replied with a wide grin. “I’ll be right back.” Then she disappeared in search of the paper plates.

  “And that Neptune,” my mom shook her head, “have you ever seen such a cute baby? All chunky baby fat, oooh … I just want to hug him all day long. Oh!”

  “You brought him into the world,” I chuckled. My mom had been the midwife for Perry McGrath’s wife Kristin. “So, you have that special connection to him.”

  “You’re missing my point,” she sighed.

  “I’m not,” I disagreed diplomatically. “I’m avoiding your point.”

  “Uh-huh.” My mother narrowed her eyes at me. “And you could fit a bassinet right here in this corner and get right on with your murder investigation.”

  I knew it was only a time before she brought this up.

  “Oh my,” Vicki laughed, and she blushed as her eyes flickered between me and my mother.

  “That’s all I’m saying,” my mom chuckled and raised her hand
s.

  “Well, thanks,” I muttered and rubbed at the bridge of my nose. “You said it.”

  “Oh, look,” my mother suddenly said as she took a step toward me.

  “What?” I asked, and I backed away as she peered into my scalp. “What are you doing?”

  “Is that a gray hair?” she mocked.

  AJ reentered the room on that comment, and both she and Vicki died laughing.

  “Get out, Mom,” I laughed and batted her hands away. “Get out.”

  She giggled and patted my back. “Did you have any luck with Clare?”

  “We’ve talked to her a few times,” Vicki said.

  “I think she’s as guilty as they come,” AJ remarked as she poured the jar of salsa into a foam bowl and laid out plates.

  “I do too,” my mom agreed with a frown. “I never trusted that woman. She seems like one of those exorcist types who will be all nice and normal, and then one day, turn on you and go berserk. I’ve tried all sorts of relaxation with her, even hypnosis. Nothing seems to really take the edge off her.”

  “Why do you say she’s edgy?” Vicki asked and tilted her head curiously.

  “Oh,” my mom waved her hand, “she’s always frazzled and scatterbrained, which is one thing. But she’s got a temper that will go off for no real reason. Something that no one even knows about will set her off, and then heaven help anyone who gets in her path. She knows about all of this and has asked me for help, and I’ve tried a few things, but nothing’s worked. She’s just got so many inner demons.”

  AJ dipped a kale chip in the salsa bowl and tasted it.

  “Oh my gosh,” she groaned as she stuffed the rest of the chip into her mouth. “This stuff is so good.”

  “Oh, I love to hear that,” my mom exclaimed with a happy smile. “Take a jar home to your family. And why don’t you guys give them out to your clients?”

  “We could keep a few on hand,” I suggested, although I didn’t see myself handing out jars of salsa during a deposition. “You’re under arrest, but don’t forget your salsa.”

  “Well,” my mom chuckled, “I’ll let you guys--wait what is this music?”

  We all laughed.

  “It’s Bollywood techno we found in Jerry’s safe,” AJ told her.

  “Well,” my mom nodded approvingly, “I’m glad you have finally gotten some good musical taste. Such a good piece.”

  “You know this song?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “This is an ancient prayer for soul rain. It’s Gaelic.”

  “Gaelic?” I questioned and furrowed my brow.

  AJ turned it up, and my mother was right. The language had changed. Not that I spoke Gaelic or anything.

  “Yeah,” my mom said as she hummed the melody. “This is a Druidic prayer to call down healing for the soul. It was commonly used during a death, or love lost.”

  “That would be appropriate for this guy,” Vicki commented.

  “How many languages did this guy know?” I wondered.

  “Well,” my mom said, “I’ll let you guys get back to your work.”

  “Thanks for the salsa,” AJ replied as she shoved another chip into her mouth.

  “You bet.” My mom winked and left the office.

  “I love your mom,” AJ sighed.

  “She has her moments,” I chuckled.

  “She’s so awesome,” AJ added with a wild gesture of her hand. “She does everything. I feel like I just want to sit at her feet and learn.”

  “She does do a lot of stuff,” I said with a smile.

  “I mean,” AJ went on, “how do you learn how to deliver a baby? That’s so cool! And then she teaches yoga, and does macrame, and I don’t even know what else, and now she makes salsa. That’s the kind of woman I want to be. One who does everything. Argh! She’s so cool!”

  “How’s your play going?” I asked to deflect from the worship of Saffron Irving.

  “Ugh,” she groaned as she pulled up the file on her laptop. “I was working on it earlier. So far, I’ve got some British forces doing a synchronized dance to a parody of I’m Sexy and I Know It, by LMFAO. I’ll call it I’m A Redcoat and I Know It.”

  Vicki and I laughed.

  “I’d actually watch this play,” I said.

  “I’ve spent too long writing the lyrics, though,” AJ grumbled. “I think I’ve lost the goofy mood. So, I sent it to Landon who’s having his friend with a parody website work on it.”

  “So, we’ve got dancing Redcoats, and what else?” Vicki asked.

  “I think I’ll throw in some current references,” AJ mused as she tapped her chin. “Like Thomas Jefferson at the Continental Congress saying he invented the internet, and then everyone looks at him weird and then he’s like, ‘I mean light bulb, light bulb.’ And then he’s like, ‘By jove, it must have been that flux capacitor again. I knew I shouldn’t have stopped in the ‘90’s with their 56K modems. All I wanted to do was see the last of the polar bears.’”

  “I like this,” I laughed, “this is good stuff.”

  AJ shrugged. “I’m having fun, so you know.”

  “You should have the colonial soldiers have a dance, too,” Vicki suggested with a grin.

  “Yeah,” AJ nodded, “I thought of that, but I couldn’t think of a song for them. But I think I’ll work in someone reading some really, really bad poetry. And it’s supposed to be this super cool moment in history, and everyone’s like staring at them in the poetry reading and going, ‘You’re really bad. Like really bad.’”

  Vicki and I laughed at this idea, and she and AJ continued to brainstorm about the play. While they did that, I looked at the e-mail AJ sent me early of the Wright Way bankruptcy report.

  I read the report and researched Wright Way and Paul and Peter Wright, and their Second Chance Men’s Center. I wondered why we’d never really delved into this angle before. Well, it could have been we are trying to solve a murder case for the most hated man in town, in less than a week.

  The probability that loose ends will get dropped is really high.

  After some searching, I found the offending article Jerry had written for The Herald. The story stated Olliver Morales, a contractor for Wright Way, had fallen off a scaffolding and broken a rib, a leg, an ankle, and had severe lacerations and suffered a temporary concussion.

  Wow. This guy was done in.

  The Wright’s insurance paid a settlement for over a million dollars to the guy, and Peter and Paul personally apologized to him, went to his house, and organized a meal rotation for his wife and kids while he was in the hospital, among other things.

  But, when Morales was in the hospital, Jerry came to visit him. Jerry told Morales not to be blinded by the kindness the Wright’s had shown after the accident. They were only trying to cover their asses, and all of their efforts could be construed as an admission of guilt, and he could sue the pants off them. So, Morales did, and he ended up with six million. Now, the Wright’s were flat broke.

  “Did we ever call Morales’ wife?” I asked.

  “Yes,” AJ said. “She wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “Hmm,” I hummed thoughtfully and tapped a pen on the table. “Do we have an employee list from the Wright’s?”

  “No,” AJ shook her head, “I didn’t ask him for that.”

  “Okay,” I said decisively, “I want to find that. I want to talk to all of the guys who worked for them.”

  It was after eleven p.m., and if we didn’t have all of these tapes, we wouldn’t be here this late. So, I just made a note that I would talk to the Wright’s about an employee list in the morning.

  Then I spent the rest of the night researching the Wright’s.

  Chapter 12

  Friday morning came in a groggy state of panic. I didn’t even realize we were still in the conference room. We’d all fallen asleep over Hindu techno and Internet research. When I came to, AJ was awake working on her play, I guess.

  “How long was I asleep?” I mumbled as I rubbed my
eyes.

  “Not long,” AJ replied. “About an hour or two.”

  “Did you sleep at all?” I asked with a feeling of guilt.

  “A little,” she shrugged, “on and off.”

  I looked over, and Vicki was dead asleep on the table. I needed to take charge of this. I checked my phone. It was six a.m.

  “Alright,” I sighed, “let’s take a break. We’ll reconvene at ten.”

  “Sounds good,” AJ yawned as she switched off the tape.

  The sound of silence was so sweet after subjecting myself to the endless barrage of bad music. The change woke Vicki, and she groggily sat up as AJ slipped out without much comment.

  “Let’s go home,” I whispered. “We’ll come back in a few hours.”

  “Uh-huh,” Vicki mumbled and rose.

  We stumbled out of the door in silence, and in the pink and purple dawn, I drove us the three minutes back to our cottage. I set my phone alarm, and then we both fell into bed fully dressed. After spending the last God only knew how many hours slumped in the dining chairs in our conference room, I’d never been so grateful to stretch out on a soft, roomy mattress.

  But we had a deadline looming and no real answers, and I was starting to get anxious. We were really out of time. In all honesty, I could give Chet what we had, make a case for probable cause, and get Alfred moved to just a person of interest, instead of a suspect.

  But I was after that smoking gun.

  I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Then my phone alarm beeped, and I groaned. I rose and showered, and Vicki had not moved from her position since we’d arrived home.

  “Vic,” I whispered and shook her.

  “Leave me alone,” she snarled as she waved an arm in the air to ward me off.

  I forgot how grouchy Vicki could be when she’s tired.

  “I’m leaving,” I murmured into her ear with a fond smile. “I’ll see you at the office.”

  She didn’t respond, so I just left. Then I texted AJ to see if she wanted breakfast from Jitters, but she didn’t reply, so I just got a coffee and went in.

  AJ was back firmly in place, in fresh clothes, and with coffee, although she still looked a little tired. The Hindu techno was still going, and I started to wonder if we would find anything on those tapes at all. But I knew we had to give it the best shot we could.