Crime Seen (18 page)

‘‘How exactly do you know that they’ve got an application in at Universal Mortgage?’’

‘‘If I told you I’d have to kill you,’’ I joked. ‘‘Seriously, though, you can’t mention that you got this from me.’’

‘‘And how exactly am I going to broach the topic?’’ she asked me.

‘‘Pretend you’re a telemarketer,’’ I said.

‘‘Which is against FCC regulations if they’re on the National Do Not Call list, Abby. I’d rather not get fined five thousand dollars.’’

I scowled. This was harder than I’d thought. ‘‘Oh, crap, I’d forgotten about that. Well, can’t you be creative?’’

Tracy giggled. ‘‘I miss working with you, girlfriend.’’

‘‘Does that mean you’ll do it?’’

‘‘I’ll see if I can’t come up with something. Keep me posted if you hear anything on your end, though.’’

‘‘Absolutely. And thanks, Tracy. You’re a life-saver.’’

I hung up feeling much better and flashed Candice a winning smile. ‘‘I love beating an asshole at his own game,’’ I said.

Candice smiled and pulled off the highway. ‘‘You hungry?’’

‘‘Famished,’’ I said, noting that she was heading toward a Denny’s restaurant.

‘‘We can talk strategy over lunch,’’ Candice said as we pulled into the lot.

After we’d placed our order, Candice pulled out a legal pad and began to make notes. ‘‘I made a call up to Jackson this morning to see if Lutz was accepting visitors, and apparently he’s recovered enough from his stab wound to meet with the public. When we get in we’ll need to go through security and then I’ll give my name and see if Lutz is curious enough to let us see him. Most of these guys are so bored that they’re willing to see complete strangers if it means breaking up the monotony.’’

‘‘I gather you’d be the one doing all the talking?’’ I asked.

Candice nodded. ‘‘You just sit there and let that radar hum. Along with asking him about Walter, I want to know who stabbed him, and why. Not that he’ll tell me, but maybe your radar can give us an insight or two. It’ll also let us know if he’s full of shit or not,’’ she added with a smile.

‘‘Inboard lie detectors do come in handy.’’ I grinned back.

‘‘I think we should also try and get a word with the warden. He’s not obligated to talk to us, but he might open up about who’s been visiting Lutz and if there’s any inside scoop about the stabbing.’’

I nodded. ‘‘Sounds like a plan.’’

We finished our meal quickly and hurried out the door, anxious to be on our way since the drive was long. We made it to Jackson about two hours later, and I was struck by the starkness of the place. The prison was out in the middle of nowhere, far removed from anything even remotely civilized. A huge facility complete with watchtowers and razor wire strung along the top of mammoth brick walls, it stood imposingly surreal against the emptiness of the open terrain.

There was nothing warm or inviting about it, and I felt the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end as we entered the first set of gates leading into the main prison. We were stopped by a guard and asked to show our IDs and state our business. Candice did most of the talking and I simply nodded as she explained that we were here to visit with one of the prisoners.

We were let through the first set of gates and came to a second and a third before we were finally allowed onto the main grounds. We had to pay to park, but we found a good slot near the main entrance and hurried inside, both of us eager to complete our errand and get the hell out of there.

Once we were inside, though, the process was anything but swift. We were taken through security, which involved lots of unloading of pockets and Candice’s purse, pulling off shoes, being swept by a handheld metal detector and peppered with questions about who we were there to see and why. Once we’d passed the gauntlet of security and were allowed into a small waiting area, I turned to Candice and said, ‘‘We’d better make this visit count, because I sure as hell don’t want to come back through all of this again.’’

‘‘You find this at the maximum-security level,’’ Candice said. ‘‘I mean, this is where the worst of the worst get sent, so they have to be thorough.’’

I shivered as I looked around at the bleak waiting room and the even bleaker faces of relatives and friends of inmates, all waiting to spend a few minutes with them. ‘‘Makes you really want to keep your nose clean,’’ I said with another shiver.

A few minutes later, our names were called and we were led through a set of iron prison gates into a corridor lined with barred windows. Our footsteps echoed along the corridor as we followed the guard, and I found myself trying to quiet them. We turned a corner and were led through two more sets of gates and corridors until we were finally admitted to a narrow room set up with little cubicles. Plexiglas divided those of us in the free world from the prisoners on the other side.

We were shown to the last cubicle near the wall and told to wait while Lutz was brought down from the infirmary. I took a seat beside Candice and we waited in silence for a minute until Candice looked down at her cell phone and said, ‘‘Crap, I gotta take this. Abby, if Lutz shows up, tell him I’ll be right back.’’ Off she went to a corner of the room to take her call.

I was sitting, anxiously wondering how long it would be before Lutz came down, when snippets of the conversation in the next cubicle caught my attention. ‘‘The man came to the house yesterday,’’ said a portly Hispanic woman next to me. ‘‘He gave me the papers to sign and drop off to him tomorrow. This way we won’t have to sell the house to get the money.’’

Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at her. She was talking earnestly into the phone that connected her with the convict on the other side of the Plexiglas, and I noticed that her swollen belly showed signs of late pregnancy. ‘‘He said it would take about two weeks before I could get the check.’’ There was a pause as the woman listened to what the prisoner said before she snapped, ‘‘There’s nothing I can do! I already asked him to hurry, Nero! I can’t make this go any faster!’’

It was then that I noticed my intuition buzzing like crazy in my head and I swiveled in my chair to get a full look at the woman and focus on her energy. She wasn’t just pregnant; she was scared out of her mind. Her energy was frantic. She held one arm protectively over her stomach while she gripped the phone with the other hand. Something was terribly wrong, and the fact that she was incredibly nervous and talking about taking two weeks to get some money had me on high alert.

Just then the woman turned her head slightly in my direction, and the look she gave me was harsh. ‘‘You want something?’’ she snapped.

‘‘Sorry,’’ I said, holding up my hand in apology. ‘‘You remind me of someone I know.’’

‘‘Yeah, right,’’ she scoffed as she looked me up and down. ‘‘I know plenty of white folks like you. I clean their houses and pick up their shit and get paid dirt for it.’’

I nodded soberly. ‘‘I’m truly sorry,’’ I said. ‘‘It was rude of me.’’ I scooted my chair a little farther from her, hoping that she’d drop it.

She gave me a loud ‘‘Hmph’’ and turned back to the inmate, saying, ‘‘Nothing, just some white bitch thinkin’ she’s all better than me. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll be back next week, okay?’’

Thankfully, at that moment Candice came back and took her seat. ‘‘Did Lutz come down yet?’’

‘‘No, not yet,’’ I said.

‘‘You okay?’’ she asked me as she noticed the way I was trying to blend into the wall.

‘‘Fine,’’ I said quickly. ‘‘I’m just anxious to talk to Lutz and get the hell outta here.’’

We didn’t have long to wait. Bruce Lutz appeared in a wheelchair on the other side of the Plexiglas a few moments later, and although his face didn’t register anything other than a deep scowl, his eyes held a hint of curiosity. ‘‘What?’’ he asked as Candice picked up the phone and held it between the two of us.

‘‘Good afternoon, Mr. Lutz. My name is Candice Fusco and I’m a private investigator. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.’’

‘‘What’s in it for me?’’ he asked as his eyes roved over her chest.

‘‘Parole,’’ Candice said simply.

The corner of Lutz’s lip turned up slightly. ‘‘That so?’’ he asked.

Candice nodded. ‘‘I’m looking into the murder of Walter McDaniel, and I have reason to believe you were not the triggerman.’’

Lutz actually laughed. ‘‘That’s funny,’’ he said. ‘‘ ’Cuz I seem to recall confessing to the crime, Miss PI.’’

‘‘Lots of people confess to crimes they didn’t commit,’’ Candice said easily. ‘‘The question is why.’’

Lutz waved his hand impatiently. ‘‘Well, I hate to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I shot that cop, and you can let the parole board know that I’m really sorry about it.’’

My lie detector went haywire. I tapped Candice’s foot with my own, a sign that she and I had agreed upon at the restaurant would indicate when Lutz was lying. ‘‘I’ll be sure and let them know, Mr. Lutz,’’ she said. ‘‘But are you sure your memory is serving you correctly? Are you sure that someone else didn’t shoot Detective McDaniel and get away with it?’’

Lutz scoffed as he looked at her. ‘‘You’re a pretty dumb broad even if you are a looker,’’ he said. ‘‘I told yous, I shot that cop. Okay?’’

Again my lie detector sounded and I gave Candice’s foot another tap. ‘‘Fine,’’ said Candice. ‘‘Have it your way, Mr. Lutz. I was hoping I could help you, but that’s obviously not something of interest to you. So sorry for wasting your time.’’

‘‘That’s all I been doin’ for nine years, honey, was-tin’ time. Say, who hired you anyway?’’

‘‘One of the family members,’’ Candice said easily, then quickly changed topics before Lutz had a chance to ask which one of Walter’s relatives had hired us. ‘‘Just one more thing before we go, Mr. Lutz. Mind sharing with us who stabbed you?’’

Lutz’s face seemed to flush slightly. ‘‘Yeah, I mind,’’ he snapped and promptly hung up his end of the phone. Flipping Candice the bird with one hand, he pulled on his wheelchair with the other and spun away from the counter. A moment later he was out the iron gate and heading away from the visitors’ room.

‘‘Charmer,’’ I said as he pushed himself along the hallway on the other side of the Plexiglas.

‘‘He had me at hello,’’ Candice scoffed. ‘‘Come on, let’s see if we can get a word with the warden.’’

We made our way out of the visitors’ room and followed the guard back to the prisoner information desk where we’d first given our names and reason for visiting. Candice pulled out her wallet and flipped it open to her PI license so the guard could inspect it. ‘‘We’d really appreciate any time the warden could spare,’’ she said to the woman behind the desk, who looked completely disinterested in how appreciative we were. ‘‘Wait over there,’’ she said as she picked up the receiver on her desk phone and punched in an extension.

Candice and I headed over to a row of rather bleak-looking chairs and sat down. While we were waiting I glanced out the window and saw the pregnant Hispanic woman I’d been caught eavesdropping on earlier. My radar kicked in and I knew I needed to talk with her.

‘‘I’ll be back in a minute,’’ I said to Candice and headed outside. As I approached the woman, I waved my arms to catch her attention. ‘‘Yoo-hoo!’’ I called brightly. ‘‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’’

The woman stopped and scowled at me. ‘‘What are you, some kind of psycho stalker?’’ she asked as I walked up to her.

I smiled, allowing the insult to roll off me. ‘‘I just want a quick word with you,’’ I said.

‘‘Make it quick,’’ she said impatiently. ‘‘I gotta get back to my kid.’’

I nodded. ‘‘The thing of it is,’’ I began, going for honesty, ‘‘I’m a professional psychic.’’

‘‘Shut up,’’ she said, pulling her head back and eyeing me out of the corner of her eye.

I held up my hand as if I were taking a vow. ‘‘Honest,’’ I said. ‘‘And I know you thought I was being rude back there, but it’s just that you have some really interesting energy and I couldn’t help tuning in on you.’’

The woman turned her whole body to face me. She might not have believed me, but at least I had piqued her interest. ‘‘What did you see?’’

‘‘For starters, you’re having a little girl. Correct?’’

‘‘Lucky guess,’’ she said, crossing her arms. She wasn’t going to be so easy to convince.

‘‘You’re right. But at least now you’ll have one boy and one girl. And your little boy’s around four, right?’’

The woman’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly. ‘‘He turns five in August.’’

‘‘And there’s an older woman living in the house with you—a mother figure who helps watch out for your son while you’re at work, right?’’

The woman nodded, and her large, unblinking eyes told me that I had her full attention. ‘‘What else you gettin’?’’

I smiled. ‘‘So much,’’ I said as I turned the radar to full throttle. ‘‘I’m getting that the man you were talking to is connected to you, but not in a romantic way.’’

‘‘He’s my older brother,’’ she said.

‘‘And you’re really worried about him,’’ I said. Okay, this was technically cheating because I’d seen the lines of worry on her face when she was talking to him, but I’d done all the other stuff on my own.

The woman nodded. ‘‘I am,’’ she said, and her eyes welled up slightly.

My radar hummed, and I had to admit I didn’t like the energy surrounding her brother at all. ‘‘I feel you have reason to be,’’ I said. ‘‘He’s in trouble, and it’s got nothing to do with what he’s doing time for.’’

The woman placed a hand to her heart as one tear slid slowly down her cheek. ‘‘I’m doing everything I can to help him,’’ she said. ‘‘I just need some time.’’

I nodded. My crew suggested there was some legal paperwork being drafted that would require her signature. ‘‘You’ve gone to the authorities,’’ I said.

Her face scrunched up in shock.
‘‘Hell, no,’’
she said.

I cocked my head, wondering how I’d misinterpreted. ‘‘Really?’’ I said. ‘‘Because I’ve got this connectionto some legal paperwork and a hope that it will help your brother out—but I want to warn you, there’s something not good about signing these documents. I’m getting the feeling this will chain you in some way.’’