Long Shadows, page 32
Julia Cummins’s murder. If his theory was right, whoever had killed Cummins had not killed Draymont, or Lancer, or Lancer’s biological mother, Patty Kelly.
Ten stab wounds, the justice-is-not-blind symbol left behind, the legal phrase, all smacked of a highly personal killing. She’d had a sexual relationship with Alan Draymont, which she’d tried to hide under the subterfuge of her needing protection. But there had been no actual threats, at least that they knew of, and she hadn’t hired Gamma to protect her.
At first, it would have seemed logical that there was only one killer. Whoever had stabbed Cummins would have also murdered Draymont. The motive would have been jealousy perhaps, because the two had had sex that night.
But the two crimes were as different as possible. Knife versus gun. Frenzied and personal versus methodical and perhaps transactional. And then there was the money stuffed down first Draymont’s throat, and then Lancer’s. No money had been forced into the judge’s mouth, which bolstered the theory that Draymont had died first, then the judge had heard the shots and come down to check. She had found Draymont’s body, but his killer had already fled. However, the person who would end up murdering the judge was just arriving on the scene. That person had chased the judge back upstairs to her bedroom, where the slaughter had taken place, with the blindfold and note left behind.
Decker stopped and looked out to the water. The winks of ship lights far out in the Gulf were the only interruption to the darkness.
That’s what this case feels like. Almost total darkness with a few feeble points of light. But will that be enough?
It didn’t surprise him that the Bureau was trying to get rid of him. After Ross Bogart had retired, Decker had sensed a subtle shift of opinion about him, and not in his favor. When Jamison had departed to New York, he had no one really in his corner, and he had no interest in fighting office political battles.
I can be annoying. I don’t like playing by other people’s rules. Solving cases should be the only goal, and the bullshit part of the job doesn’t interest me at all.
He imagined that he and Frederica White were in complete agreement on all that. But the last thing he wanted was to see the woman go down with him.
She has a family. The Bureau is her career, and she’s worked her butt off for it.
So absorbed was Decker in these thoughts that he did not notice the two men emerge out of the darkness until they were right upon him.
They were both dressed in jogging outfits and tennis shoes.
They stared at Decker and he stared back at them.
“Can I help you guys?” he said.
One man drew a knife; the other pulled a pistol.
Decker had left his weapon back in his room.
Well, this sucks.
He was about to try to tackle the guy with the gun when he saw a blur of movement to his right. A foot struck the gun and it went spiraling off into the water. Another foot hit the man in the gut, and he went down to his knees with a grunt of pain. Another side-winding kick to his jaw and he went down to the sand.
The knife guy slashed at their attacker, which gave Decker time to clamp down on his arm and twist it until the man cried out in pain and dropped the knife. Decker drew his fist back to land a haymaker on the man when a foot whipsawed against knife guy’s chin. There was a dull thud, his head shifted violently to one side, and he fell to the sand yelling in pain and holding his face.
Then a hand grabbed Decker’s.
“Come on!” yelled White. “Run.”
They hustled back up the beach and through the gate into the pool area of the hotel.
White pulled her phone, called 911, and relayed what had just happened. She clicked off and looked up at Decker.
“You weren’t kidding about that double black belt,” he said breathlessly. “That was pretty amazing.”
“I don’t kid, in general,” she replied just as breathlessly. “And you were lucky I was out there getting some fresh air and spotted the two guys coming up on you.”
“I was very lucky.”
“Okay, first thing, you need to be more careful.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“Second thing, I’m going to be beyond pissed if you get your ass killed.”
“Duly noted. But this happening is a positive sign, too.”
“How so?”
“We’re making certain people nervous, which means we’re getting closer to the truth.”
Chapter 81
DECKER CAME DOWN THE FOLLOWING morning to the hotel lobby to meet White. As he crossed the lobby to go into the restaurant, someone approached him.
Gloria Chase was dressed, at least for her, in a subdued fashion. The dress was just above the knee, not all that tight, and the heels were barely two inches tall.
She held up an envelope. “Was this from you?” she asked.
“Have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Got a minute to chat?”
She led him over to a seating area where they wouldn’t be overheard.
They sat, and she crossed one long leg over the other, her expression dejected.
“Just when you think you know someone well enough to walk down the aisle with them.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Do we have to play this game?” she snapped.
“Have you spoken to him?”
“More than that. I told him I would not be marrying him, ever. I also gave him back his crummy ring before the collection people came after me for it.”
“Was he living beyond his means?”
“My people did a quick check on him, which I should have done when I first met him. He owes everybody. It’s not that he’s a bad lawyer. He makes good money. It’s that he has a gambling problem, which is why he really wanted to go to Vegas for the honeymoon. To gamble away my money.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?”
He glanced at the envelope. “Proof’s in the pudding, as they say.”
“Right. You could have let me marry him and there would go all my money.”
“I wasn’t so much worried about your money as I was about your safety.”
“You really think he’s dangerous?”
“That prostitute didn’t assault herself.”
She pursed her lips. “Have I been a complete fool?”
“The hardest thing for someone to do is admit they’ve been suckered. It’s easier to say the emperor is wearing his new clothes when he’s really stark naked, right up until the moment everything goes to shit and you have to pay the price for your bad judgment.” He leaned forward. “But moving on—do you stand by your alibi for him?”
She played with the latch on her purse. “Let’s just say that I was not counting the minutes when he was gone. I was actually in the shower and getting…spruced up.”
“So, longer than twenty minutes?”
“I think he found out when he needed an alibi for and then ‘reminded’ me how long he was gone. I can’t say for sure how long he was out, actually.”
“An hour or more?”
“I take a while to spruce up. So, yes, clearly an hour or more.”
“And you’ll stick to that if it comes to legal proceedings?”
“Count on it.”
She rose and so did Decker. She put out her hand, which he shook.
“Thank you, Agent Decker.”
“Thank you for being candid.”
“It’s not my usual forte, but an old dog can learn new tricks, I guess.”
“I guess so,” said Decker, thinking about himself.
* * *
As Chase was leaving, White walked over to Decker. “The cops turned up nothing on the two guys from last night. They were long gone and left behind no clues.”
“Not surprising.”
White looked in the direction of Chase. “What did she want?”
“To tell me she’s not marrying Langley, and she has no idea how long he was gone the night Cummins was killed. But it was at least an hour. So that puts Langley right back onto the suspect list for Cummins’s murder.”
“The motive? I mean, he was seeing Chase. They were planning to get married. She was loaded. She was his ticket out. So why would he kill the judge?”
“It doesn’t have to be about money. Cummins rejected him. With a guy like Langley, I doubt he took it well. So with what he thought was an ironclad alibi, he probably figured he could kill Cummins and he’d just argue he couldn’t be in two places at the same time and Chase would back him up. And even if she didn’t, once they were married, her lips would be legally sealed.”
“So now you think he’s good for the murder?”
Decker said, “Well, we know he is capable of violence.”
“Yeah, and he’s also a jerk.”
Chapter 82
AS THEY WERE HEADING OUT White got a call. It was the officer from Miami’s Cold Case Squad.
“Didn’t expect to ever hear back from you in my lifetime,” said White.
“Yeah, I surprised myself. But even though you didn’t have a name, you had a specific date. I ran it through our missing persons database for the day after, and got one hit that matched your physical description. Her name is Wanda Monroe, African American, age twenty-three. She was reported missing by her roommate. According to her rap sheet, Monroe was a known prostitute who worked the strip back then, including the Fontainebleau.”
“Can you send me a photo?”
“Soon as I hang up.”
“I assume she was never found?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, thanks a lot.”
A minute later the photo dropped into her inbox. They looked at the young woman with long dark hair, a fetching smile, and lovely features.
“What a damn waste,” said White.
“Yeah, it is. Send that photo to Deidre Fellows and see if she recognizes it as the woman in her father’s hotel room.”
“It was over forty years ago, Decker.”
“Sometimes a memory like that gets seared into your head.”
“Is that how all your memories are?” she said curiously.
“For better or worse, yeah.”
She sent the email off. “Now what?”
“I was thinking there was one thing we didn’t check.”
“What’s that?”
“Where did the killers get all that old Slovakian money to stuff down Draymont’s and Lancer’s throats?”
White shot him a glance. “I just assumed—”
“Yeah, so did I, and that was a mistake. I looked online, and it’s sold on Etsy and eBay for the most part.”
“I can run a check on recent purchases of the currency. I can’t imagine there’s a big market for it.”
White made a call and got this in motion. “I told them to make it a priority. Hopefully, they won’t need a warrant or anything.”
“Yeah.”
“Now where?”
“Let’s talk to Doris Kline again.”
“Why?”
“She lived next door to Julia Cummins and knew her maybe better than anyone else. And she held back before. Maybe she’s still holding back something.”
* * *
Kline was out on her lanai reading a book and having orange juice, though knowing the woman now, Decker doubted it was solely juice in there.
She was dressed in a salmon-and-white-striped shirt and white capri pants. A pack of cigarettes sat next to the juice. An ashtray with a few butts in it sat next to that.
“Long time, no see,” said Kline, laying her book aside. “Have you solved the case yet?”
“Not quite.”
“Where’s the other FBI guy?”
“In the hospital.”
“What? Is he sick?”
“No, he was shot.”
Kline had picked up her glass and nearly spilled it.
“My God, was it connected to—”
“Maybe,” interrupted Decker.
“Okay.” She gingerly set the glass down. “I understand Barry has been arrested.”
“That’s right. And charged with the murders of Alan Draymont and Alice Lancer,” said White. “But not Julia Cummins. At least not yet. What do you think about that?”
“If you want the truth, I don’t think Barry has the guts to kill anyone.”
“We understand that he sometimes watched Cummins’s house?” said Decker.
Kline nodded. “And Julia caught him at it. They had words. And he ran off with his tail tucked between his legs.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this before?” asked White.
“Like I said, I don’t believe Barry did it.”
“His gun was used to kill Alan Draymont and Alice Lancer,” noted Decker.
“I didn’t even know he had a gun.”
“He had it at Cummins’s house the night before he was arrested. Looked like he was going to kill himself with it. Fortunately we were there in time to stop him.”
“Jesus, Barry?” She reached for her Zippo and slid a cigarette out and lit it, blowing smoke off to the side.
“That surprises you?” asked Decker.
“I always thought Barry was having too much fun in life to want to end it. But then you think you know people and it turns out you know squat.”
“He was clearly not over the divorce,” observed White.
“I just hoped he would eventually move on. Do you really think he killed those people?”
“Doesn’t really matter what I think if all the evidence points to him.”
“Okay, Julia and the guy she was sleeping with, I get. But what about this other gal, you said her name was Alice?”
“Alice Lancer. She worked with Draymont. She was killed separately, but with Barry’s gun.”
“Why would Barry kill her? Did he know her?”
“We’ve turned up nothing to show that. But she might have seen him next door that night. Maybe she was blackmailing him.”
Kline shook her head and puffed on her cigarette. “And here I thought I had nice friends.”
“It’s not been conclusively proved that Barry did it,” pointed out Decker. “His son will testify that he was at the condo when his mom was killed. But since he’s Barry’s son, a jury may not believe him.”
“Okay, but from all you just said, who else could it have been other than Barry?”
“Cummins was a judge. Judges do make enemies.”
“That’s true.”
“But she wasn’t receiving threats. She just used that to disguise the real reason Draymont was over there. Why would she feel the need to do that?”
“Maybe she was afraid of someone’s finding out,” said Kline.
“Other things being equal, that might also point to the stalker ex-husband,” interjected White.
Kline eyed White, blew out a final mouthful of smoke, and stabbed out her cigarette.
“I guess that makes sense, but, again, I never would have figured Barry as the violent type.”
“Did they ever have fights?” asked Decker.
“What couple doesn’t? But nothing bad. Hell, my ex and me? We’d light up the neighborhood. I could never hear Barry and Julia going at it. Julia would always talk to me later about it, though. And Barry always backed down, usually because Julia was right and had the facts to back her up. At least that’s what she told me.”
“How about the Perlmans? They seem pretty compatible.”
“Yeah, they get along fine. Most second marriages do. You figure it out by then, and even if you haven’t you don’t have the energy or lungs to scream like you used to.”
“Maybe I should think about getting married again, then,” quipped White.
Kline eyed her. “Honey, I would advise against it unless you’re damn sure, and what woman really is?”
“True, we met one recently who thought she had Prince Charming in a bottle, only to find out it was Pandora’s Box.”
“Did she manage not to open the box?” asked Kline.
White eyed Decker and smiled. “Yes, with a little help from a good Samaritan.”
“So is Barry going to prison over this?”
“He could,” said Decker. “Unless we find another plausible theory.”
Kline shook her head. “That means Tyler will have lost both parents. Poor kid.”
“He believes in his father’s innocence, although he’s clearly not happy with Barry’s drinking and lifestyle.”
“Barry’s all he has left. That’s pretty scary for a kid.”
“Yes, it is,” said Decker, rising to leave.
* * *
Later, back at the hotel, White rapped on Decker’s door. When he opened it she looked triumphant.
“We got a hit on the Slovakian currency purchase,” she told him.
“That was fast.”
“Sometimes the good guys get lucky. And the Bureau has a team devoted to online purchases that might later figure in prosecutions. Apparently criminals really like to get their felonious shit on platforms like that. And as you said, not much trafficking in the currency. It was purchased on eBay. Happened three weeks ago.”
“They have a name?”
“Yep.”
“Who?”
“Kasimira Roe.”
Chapter 83
DECKER IMMEDIATELY CONTACTED ROE AND asked for a meeting without mentioning what they had just uncovered.
White showed Decker the documentation on the currency purchase. “I don’t remember the bills that came out of Draymont’s and Lancer’s throats. But we can get them from the evidence locker.”
“No need. I remember them.”
“Seriously, I mean, to that level of detail?”
“I can see them in my head, Freddie, including serial numbers.”
“Well, look at you, Rain Man. Maybe we should go to Vegas.”
They left their hotel and got into the rental. As she drove them to Miami, he went over the pictures of the money in the email.
“Well?”
“It’s the same money.”
“Shit, I did not see that coming.”
“It doesn’t necessarily mean what you think it might.”
“How could it not?”
