Death in Her Eyes (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 1) (17 page)

“Right, but I’ll see you later,” I said.

“I’ll call you this afternoon to confirm a time. The address is on the card.”

I stubbed out my cigarette as I got up from the desk and shook her hand as I rounded the corner. I was sure I was in the presence of a killer. Now all I had to do was prove it. I handed her a business card and she was gone.

I watched Greer go down the stairs. I bounded to the front window. I saw her get into a black Escalade and watched it pull away. I made sure the street door was locked before I raced back up the stairs to call Stan. He answered on the first ring.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t able to keep her very long,” I confessed.

“No problem. We have a team in the area. They should be able to pick her up. What’s she driving?” he asked.

“A black Escalade with Florida plates, you can’t miss her,” I said. “She wants to hire me as body guard.”

“She must be three kinds of stupid if she wants to hire you,” Stan joked.

“I love you too,” I replied.

“Did she say how she found you?” Stan asked.

“She heard I was asking questions. I assume she wants me out of play. A job would be just the thing.”

The thought made me think of the fat check I’d gotten from General Hunt.

“Or she could have seen you with the tennis pro,” Stan offered.

“Or that,” I agreed. “I had to tell her I got pulled in about that.”

I filled Stan in on my meeting and the arrangements I’d made for later in the day. I promised I’d to stay in touch and said good-bye. I’d been banging away on the computer for a while when the phone rang.

“Everett,” I said as I picked up the phone.

“Did you forget you had a guest?” Ashton said slowly.

“Ashton, I’m sorry. I forgot all about you,” I confessed. “It’s safe to…”

“A girl doesn’t like to be forgotten, you know,” she said in a coy buttery way. “You owe me an apology.”

“I’m so sorry. I got working and …”

“No you don’t understand. Come on over to your bedroom.”

I looked at the phone as though it had lied to me.

“Ah, yes, ma’am,” I stuttered.

I grabbed my coffee and went through to the apartment.

“Ashton,” I called, but I didn’t see her. I stepped into the bedroom and dropped my cup and my jaw. Ashton was reclined on her side in the middle of my bed. The outline of her bikini tan glowed in the soft morning light. Her body was smooth and taught. Her flat stomach accentuated her full breasts. A golden halo of hair encircled her head. She wore only that fabulous smile.

“Don’t just stand there Mac. You’re going to have to work hard on that apology,” she said.

I stood bug-eyed and speechless gawking at her.

“Ah, Ashton,” I stammered.

“Don’t you like what you see?” she purred as she ran a hand along her body, “or do you often have this sort of surprise?”

Ah, no, yes…ah, Ashton you…you look fantastic. I wasn’t expecting…”

“You want me, don’t you? I want you,” she purred. Her fingertips brushed over her breasts.

“I…want…you, but…ah…I can’t do this…I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

I couldn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth and neither could Ashton. Her face fell.

“Is there something wrong with me?”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“You don’t like girls?” she said as she covered herself with the sheet. “This is the first time I’ve ever gotten this reaction.”

I wondered how many times she’d turned up unexpected in some guy’s bed, but let the thought die a natural death.

“Hell no…I mean yes I like…”

“You like women, just not me. You don’t do much for a girl’s self-esteem.”

“Your father...the case…ah it just wouldn’t be…”

I hated myself. I’d never have an opportunity like this again.

“Why don’t you get out of here so I can get dressed?” she said softly. There was a mix of disappointment and anger in her voice. “I’ve never done the walk of shame without getting laid.”

I backed out of the room. Any red-blooded guy would have jumped her bones until he couldn’t breathe, but I couldn’t. I knew her father. I was working for her. I just couldn’t bring myself….Ashton came out of the apartment and headed straight for the door without a word. She was pissed and I couldn’t blame her.

“Hey wait,” I called.

“Why?” she said. I could see the tears in her eyes. “You’ve humiliated me. Do you want to rub it in too?”

“Look, I’m wound up in this case. I have a lot to prove and…”

“And what, you don’t want me?”

“No, I do, but I have a habit of screwing up a good thing when it comes along. I…”

“Well, you’re running true to form,” she sobbed. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I stood there trying to find some crumb that would salvage the situation. I had nothing. My only choice was to get my head back in the game, make some progress. I had to clear Cary Hunt.

I dove back into my internet searches on the names I had. Howard Neal was the head vet out at Ocean World. Derrick McArthur was a former Orlando Magic basketball player; cut from the team after one too many bar room brawls and more than his share of positive drug tests. Luck Taylor was what they used to call a playboy. He spent his time spending money, backing rap ‘artists’ and chasing women. There was no hint he connected to gambling, big time or otherwise. There wasn’t anything incriminating on the internet about these guys. I decided I’d drop in on them unannounced.

My Google search on my early morning visitor, Greer, produced some interesting results. She, it turned out, had been the Research Director at Perimeter Marine Research and was the alleged aggressor in a sexual harassment complaint. The best article was from
Research Today
.

Perimeter Marine Research Chief Executive Sued for Sexual Harassment

Principle Research Investigator, Dr. Nancy Cameron, filed a complaint in Federal court Friday, alleging sexual harassment, emotional distress, and wrongful termination. According to the complaint, Cameron was recruited by Dr. Sharon Greer, a senior director of research and Cameron’s direct supervisor. According to lawyers representing Cameron, the two women had worked together previously. The complaint says that Greer ‘coerced’ Cameron to have sex on multiple occasions. The incidents took place in Greer’s office and offsite the complaint says. Greer promised a ‘bright future’ at Perimeter Marine Research and unlimited funding, and threatened that she could ‘take everything away from her.’ Cameron’s lawyers told Research Today that the women never had an intimate relationship prior to the harassment.

The complaint says that once Cameron rejected Greer's advances, she received poor performance reviews and less important assignments. Cameron reported the harassment to human resources and the company did not perform a proper investigation and ultimately fired her. A Federal jury awarded a judgment of $250,000.

A few other articles mentioned that settlements were typical in harassment complaints, but the ‘egregious nature’ of this case made a settlement impossible. I’d have to find out more about Dr. Greer.

I set up appointments with Tawni Williams and Libby Davis for later in the day then called Marco. When I got his voice mail, I left a message for him to check on the names I’d developed and Perimeter Marine Research.

The phone rang and when I answered, Stan Lee was in the middle of shouting something. He wasn’t a happy camper. The man needed an intervention more that I did.

“What the hell are you into Mac?” he barked. “Are you trying to get me fired?” he demanded.

“Hello, to you too, Stan. I’m very well thanks,” I purred.

“Are you kidding? Cut the crap. Some friend you are. I liked it better when we weren’t talking. Could you have told me? We talked for God’s sake…you could have sent a text - something, anything to let me know that schmuck Raven pulled you in last night…

“It was early this morning,” I corrected.

“…this morning. Would it have been so hard? You couldn’t give me a heads up?”

I couldn’t get a word in edge wise. I could only imagine the grilling he’d had.

“I’ve spent
my
morning answering crazy questions about you and the Hunt case. They’re going to come unglued when Doc Wilson puts out his revised cause of death.”

I’d seen Stan stand his ground against an Iraqi tank; RPGs and even a red faced Major from the Inspector General without giving an inch. The brass must have given him a real going over. That was why I left the department, that and the murder charge.

“You got out of there with your skin intact, I assume?”

“I did, and I had to promise them yours to do it. If you don’t keep me in the loop…look, we have to resolve this thing, and quick.”

“I’m waiting for Greer to call. Did you get the tail on her?”

“Yeah, a team picked up her trail. They followed her for a couple hours then lost her. Did you get anything out of her?”

“Your call interrupted our chat. I didn’t get to ask her about Mrs. Hunt.”

“That’s all you got?”

“She could have killed the tennis pro.”

There was silence then he said, “She told you…”

“No,” I replied. “I have a lot to prove and it’s going to take lot of work to do it.”

“OK. I get it, just keep me in the loop, will ya’ please. I’ve got a lot riding on this one,” Stan said.

“Will do Stan, will do.”

Back at my computer, with my feet on the desk, wireless keyboard in my lap I cast a wide net on the internet. I tried to find a connection between Greer, the Hunts, and a deadly neurotoxin. Greer was a marine biologist. The Hunts were real estate and investment moguls. A little more searching turned up a professional social networking site that had Greer’s CV. One thing that caught my eye was she’d done antitoxin research in Southeast Asia. Was that a connection?

I was on the way to interview Stephanie Hunt’s friends when my cell rang. It was Ward Barber. This was going to be good.

“Mac Everett,” I said.

“Mr. Everett, Ward Barber here. I believe we’ve had a misunderstanding,” His manner was cool and businesslike.

“No, not at all Ward,” I replied. “What’s on your mind?”

“The unpleasantness last night, that was uncalled for, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean,” I asked.

“Don’t crack smart with me mister. I can buy and sell you twenty times over. What’s the big idea?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you Ward,” I mused. “As I told that pinhead Alan, I don’t like being tailed. If I’d done what I told him I’d do, I’d have blipped those two hoods and dropped them in your office when I came to take out Alan at start of business this morning. But I didn’t do that did I?”

“Look here, Everett…”

“No, you look here,
Ward
. Keep your people out of my way, out of my way and out of my sight. I’m going to get to the bottom of this case and neither you nor your clown squad is going to get in my way. Have a nice day, Ward.”

I hung up on him before he could say another word.

I met Tawni Williams, an advertising VP, at her office in the Bank of America Building. I recognized her face from one of Stephanie Hunt’s group photos.

“Mr. Everett,” she said as I was ushered into her plush office. Her manner was icy. I tried to imagine her with a personality. My hostess was a stick thin woman with auburn hair. Her narrow face had sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin. Pair of hazel eyes peered out from below plucked brows and set in deep dark hollows. Her long pointed nose hooked over continually pursed lips, painted bright red in an unsuccessful effort to mask their thinness. The gaunt features of her face were a reflection of her body. Everything from her skeletal arms to her doll-thin waist screamed of unnatural skinniness. Her tailored business suit did nothing but accentuate a bloodthirsty image. Unsmiling, she offered her hand as I approached. It was clammy and hard. I took it and as I looked in her eyes and saw hate and distrust. I knew nothing she would tell me would be the whole truth.

“As I said on the phone Stephanie Hunt was my best friend. I won’t help get her killer off.”

“I understand, but there’s always the possibility that her husband didn’t do it,” I replied.

“Come off it, it’s always the husband,” Williams croaked.

“True, but in this case the cops only have circumstantial case. There’s no sign of domestic abuse. Can you shed some light on that?” I suggested. If I could lead her a little bit she might just spill what she knew.

“No, I never saw him hit her, if that’s what you mean,” She replied.

“Did you see any sign of an affair?”

“She told me he was sleeping with someone, if that’s what you mean. Frankly, I didn’t understand the attraction between them.”

“Why is that?”

She hesitated, realizing she had opened a door.

“Um…they weren’t compatible,” she mumbled.

“How’s that?” I asked, anxious to exploit her slip.

“She was lively and loved life. She liked to have a good time and he was married to his work,” she replied.

“Did she have complaints about his long hours?”

“No, not exactly, ah, she liked to travel…”

“I understand they traveled a good deal, separately and together,” I responded.

I didn’t mind lying to this broad. She’d do the same to me if she ever said anything important. Fortunately, she was looking to the left retrieving facts and memories.

She nodded.

“You were close with Mrs. Hunt?”

“Yes, we knew each other a long time.”

“What can you tell me about her habits?”

“What are you driving at Mr. Everett?

“What can you tell me about what she liked to do, where she went, who were her friends? That’s what I’m driving at.” I said. “Look I’m sorry your friend was killed, but I have a job to do. I want to find out who
killed
your friend.”

“She played a lot of tennis. She was competitive.”

“That’s helpful, what else? Did she do drugs or gamble?”

She fell silent, and then continued ignoring my question. Her eyes flicked to the right while she formulated a story.

“Four of us have hung out since college, me, Libby Davis, Stephanie and Sharon Greer. You won’t get me to say anything against Libby or Sharon either.”

Her dodging my question was as good as telling me. Stephanie Hunt did drugs or gambled. Her success with tennis told me it was the latter.

“Have I tried to trick you? I don’t work like that,” I said.

“No,” she hesitated, trying to decide what to say next. “The four of us have been like sisters since our freshman year. We went to grad school separately, but we stayed in touch and continued to be close. Libby and I are both married. We don’t want any trouble,” she said.

I noticed she didn’t say happily married. I couldn’t quite picture this cold fish enjoying wedded bliss.

“Look, the four of us were very close. That’s all I’ll say.”

“You mentioned knowing about Mr. Hunt’s affair, did Mrs. Hunt ever talk about her own extracurricular activities?”

“You’re not going to smear my friend’s reputation,” she shouted as she leapt to her feet. “You …”

“Of course not,” I assured her, “it’s just that it has come up. The prosecution won’t bring it up, but you can bet the defense will. Several people at the country club have insinuated…”

“Let them insinuate all…”

I held up my hand to hold her back, “Several people have insinuated they knew about her affairs and others have admitted sleeping with her.” Lying to her was getting easier. “We have to look at all the possible motives and suspects.”