Bob Moats - Jim Richards 01-03- 3 for Murder Box Set (45 page)

I had read about the murders in the papers. I was a bit familiar with the facts but wanted to hear this lawyer’s slant on it.

He pulled a file folder from his cabinet and handed it to me. “This is all the info on the case that I could get from him. I don’t disbelieve him, but the circumstances are a little shaky.”

“Was she a hooker or a happy home wrecker?” I inquired.

“My client says he met her in a bar in Mt. Clemens, they hit it off and ended up in a motel down off Groesbeck Highway in Fraser. The motel has a record of his renting the room, but the desk clerk doesn’t remember any woman with him. Roseville police figured he rented the room to try to set up an alibi, and then knocked off his wife.”

“Did the police sweep the room?” I asked.

“The room was cleaned by the maid by the time forensics got there. Bed sheets were changed and washed so any evidence was destroyed.”

“Is your client out on bail or still in jail?”

“The judge denied him bail for the gruesomeness of the killing. His wife was hacked and decapitated. The judge wasn’t sympathetic.”

“I’ll need to talk to Weston. Can you arrange it?” I asked.

“Sure, I’ll call the county jail and get it set up. So, I presume you are taking the case?” He smiled.

I pulled out my rate card and handed it to him, “Only if you can afford me. This case would take the number 10 special, my most expensive rate.”

He laughed and said, “I think I can afford it. You want a retainer advance?” I said I did, he got on his phone and told someone to cut a check and have it to the receptionist ASAP.

“Can I call you if I have further questions?” I asked.

He handed me his card after writing his cell phone number on it. “Call anytime, this case goes to trial in a week, and I have very little to go on. I’m counting on you.”

I said, “I’ll give you my first rate investigation.” I smiled and got up. He rose, and we shook hands. I went out the door, picked up my check from the girl at the front desk and left the building.

I finally looked at the check once I was sitting in my car and just grinned.

*

Chapter Four

I drove back to my office to organize my attacks on the Weston case and Elma’s. I was going to give priority to the lawyer because the case was coming up next week and I had little to go on. I didn’t think Ralph would do any harm to Elma yet, and I could follow him in between checking on my murder case.

There was no blonde sitting in my lobby waiting for me. Instead Buck was sprawled out on a chair with his eyes closed. I flicked his nose, and he came alive, ready to fight. I stepped back and yelled that it was me.

He calmed and said, “Hey, Jimmy, what’s happening?”

“How long have you been camped out here?” I asked.

“Only about a half hour. I just came by to see if you were still alive.”

I opened the door, and he went for the client chair. I told him about my meetings with Elma and Trapper, then about the lawyer.

“Yah, I read about that Weston murder. Husband claims he was screwing some woman while his wife was being hacked up,” he said.

“Yes, Buck, that about sums it up. I’ve been hired to find the mystery woman.”

“While you find her, I can follow the kinky husband around,” he said.

“I’m sure he’d notice someone as big as you tailing him. I’ll find something better for you to do. Like intimidate witnesses who may have seen my supposed murderer and his pick-up on the night in question.”

“Ya, I can rough them up.” He smiled.

“No, just look scary.” I laughed.

“I can’t have any fun?” he lamented.

“Scary is fun.” I smiled. He agreed.

“So, I think we should start at the bar where they met. You OK going into a bar?” I said. Knowing Buck was a reformed alcoholic, I had to ask.

“No, problem. They serve diet Sprite, don’t they?” he said.

I took David Weston’s picture out of the file Benson gave me, and we headed out. Buck wanted to drive so I let him. We headed up to Mt. Clemens, driving up the same roads we traveled during the Classmate Murders. It was déjà vu.

In Mt. Clemens, we drove down Walnut Street and parked on a side street. We walked around till we found the Midnight Bar and went in. It was dark, smelled of beer and urine, not a high class place. Buck and I sauntered over to the bar, and I signaled to the semi-attractive barmaid. She slowly walked over and leaned on the counter, flashing a pair of breasts in a tank top that barely held them back. Her tank top said “Available for Nursing.” I resisted.

“And what will you two cuties have?” she asked in a cigarette abused voice.

“I’m Jim, this is Buck, and you are?”

“Call me Dolly, but I answer to just about anything.” She smiled.

I ordered a Pepsi, and Buck grunted out diet Sprite. She stared at us, and asked if we were cops.

“No, I’m private, my friend here is my enforcer,” I said, smiling.

She looked at Buck. He was standing tall, all six foot three of him, and he grinned at her. She went to get our drinks. I watched her to be sure she opened the cans in front of me. She did. She brought them back, and I said I didn’t want a glass.

“I clean my glasses regular,” she said defensively.

“I’ve never liked messing up a glass when I can drink from the can, no offense.”

“So, you two aren’t here for the ambiance of this joint, and the cops have already asked every question I could answer. So what do you want?”

“Did they show you a picture of David Weston?” I said as I flipped it to her.

“Yep, they did, although this one is different.”

“How so?” I asked.

“It doesn’t look like the other pictures I was shown. Where’d you get this one?” she asked.

“From his lawyer. Is this very different from the ones the cops showed you?”

“Yeah, it’s a different face, close, but I’m good at faces, and this one is different.”

“So have you seen the face in this picture?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him in here a number of times. He’s a stalker. Watches for lonely women, then hits on them and they all follow him out of the bar.

I looked at Buck. “Why would the cops show a different photo of this guy? They covering up something, or got the wrong guy?”

I would have to call the lawyer about this. “The picture the cops showed you, you couldn’t identify the man?”

“I told them I hadn’t seen the face they showed me,” she said. “I don’t follow the news so I didn’t see the guy, other than what they asked me.”

I was confused. “The night of the murders, do you remember this guy in here?” Pointing to my picture.

“I worked that night. Yeah, he was in here.”

“Did he leave with anyone?” I asked.

“I remember a quiet brunette that he talked up. I didn’t see them leave together though. After a while, he and she were gone, but I didn’t see them leave together.”

“Could you identify her or do you know her?”

“She comes in maybe once a week. She says she’s trying to get away from her family so she comes here to have a few bracers then goes back home.”

“When was the last time she was here?”

“When I saw her with the guy in that photo, last week. Hasn’t been back since.”

I took out my business card and said, “If she comes in, please call me right away.” I handed her the card and a twenty dollar bill. She smiled at both.

“You got it, P.I., I’ll call right away.” She went off to take care of some guy yelling for a beer.

I looked at Buck, “Something’s wrong with this picture, the big picture, not the little pictures. You know what I mean.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I do. The cops either got the wrong picture or someone is trying to frame Weston,” he said.

“Yep, my thoughts exactly.” I pulled out my cell phone and called Benson, I got his voice mail, and I hated that. I left a message for him to call me, that it was important.

“Buck, are you interested in a swimming pool for your backyard?” I asked.

He looked at me with a puzzled expression, “Why, do I need one?”

“No, but that’s what Ralph Flagg sells, pools and spas. May as well go fit him in while we wait on the mystery woman.”

We downed our drinks, I waved at the barmaid and we left. It was good to be back out in fresh air. The bar had that smell like Mt. Clemens used to have all over, a stink from the mineral baths that were a rage back in the ’20s to the ’50s. The whole town had a sulfur, rotten egg smell to it. The years had taken away the baths and the smell. Now the air was fresh again.

We drove down Groesbeck Highway to the Lazy Daze Pools and Spas, parked and went in.

From his picture, I recognized the man who set his sights on us and strode over quickly was Ralph. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Interested in a pool or maybe a spa to rest your weary bones?” He rattled on about this pool or that spa and herded us around the store before we could even say anything.

I hated hard sell salespeople, and I didn’t like Ralph from minute one. I really couldn’t see what Elma saw in him, other than a glib tongue.

“Excuse me, take a breath. I am looking for a spa that can handle about 15 to 20 people,” I said.

His eyes glowed. “Now why would you need a spa that large?”

“I have friends that are into having a good time, if you know what I mean. We have sort of a club, and we get a little loose with each other, and I thought a spa would be a nice ice breaker.”

“Hmm, is this a swingers club, may I ask?” He was drooling.

“I hate to put names on things, but it’s something like that. We get into keys, swinging and kink.” I spread it on.

I almost could see his eyes roll back into his head. He paused for a bit then said, “Is it a private club, or can anyone come?”

“Well.” I moved my head to his nametag. “May I call you Ralph?” He said I could. “I’d have to get approval from our group, but if you were interested, I could see. Are you a member of any other clubs that I may mention to give you a rep?”

He smiled. “I’m a member of the Dark Dungeon B and D Club in Pontiac. Is that something that would qualify me?” He was anxious now.

“That may help. We don’t do very much bondage, but we like swapping. You into that?”

“I enjoy it, but my wife is not into it at all. Would that be a problem?”

“Well, we have members who are in the same position, more women than men, but it’s not a problem. Give me your card and I’ll see what I can do to get you an interview. There is a membership fee, too, a grand to join. It helps fund our parties.”

He was salivating now and handed me his card. “I have money, no problem.”

“OK, I’ll be in touch soon.” I looked to Buck, and we went out.

Buck smiled and said, the boy is hot to trot.

*