One Deadly Sister (Sandy Reid Mystery Series #1) (29 page)

“But down here I’m like every other Georgian who’s called a redneck, not something different.”

“You’ll find someone.”

“You don’t just go into a bar and walk out with Miss America.”

“You are special. Your Latin blood gives you an attractive, exotic look. I wish I had your flashing dark eyes.”

Sandy could see it now; she had underestimated Linda’s loneliness. Here was distress beyond what she had imagined. Linda would be willing to change her name and move a thousand miles, a thousand times, if she thought it would bring her the person she wanted. “Miss Right is out there, Linda, and could show up tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Linda gave her a tolerant look. “Let’s get off it.”

“And you made up what you told me about your past, the part about a girlfriend, her boyfriend, a dead dog and a fire?”

“No.” She laughed. “That was real, except it happened in Tampa not Georgia. I was a mechanic for Uncle Luis. Who else is going to hire a teenage girl as a mechanic?”

Sandy still wondered about
La Familia
. “So, the Tampa-Georgia location thing was your only lie to me about your background?”

“Yes, sorry. Remember I didn’t know you back then. You know, you’re right Sandy, everyone underestimates you.”

Sandy was afraid of setting her off again, yet she had to ask, “Linda, what about
La Familia
?”

“Everyone knows it means family. What about it?”

That sounded innocent. Anyway, was it crucial? Was it actually important? Maybe she didn’t want to hear anything that involved Linda in any plot. Maybe Sandy had enough, she didn’t have to solve Towson’s murder. She just has to get Raymond out of it and go on living. His transfer to the county jail was about to happen, no point in holding any info back now.

“Linda, I’ve got a whole lot of things to tell you.”

 Linda was excited. “I’ve things to tell you also, better get comfortable.”

They huddled over notes for two hours and ordered pizza and Coke for lunch. After an additional hour, Sandy hurried out of the Park Beach newspaper building. She had just enough time to get to the jail before the end of visiting hours.

Sandy was waiting in the visiting room when they brought him in. “Raymond, I’ve been in a huddle with Linda at the newspaper office. We leveled and told each other all that we knew.”

“Why don’t you just go back to Philly?”

“Not yet, listen up Raymond. She said the police knew all along that Barner was alive, because he serviced Towson’s apartment after you left. They found insecticide on a piece of that cup you broke. That was one day after Loraine said she shot him. So they knew she was lying, not you.”

“Slow down, what are you talking about? We knew Barner was an exterminator.”

“Yes, but we didn’t know he had serviced Towson’s apartment the afternoon of the shooting. Someone connected with the investigation told Linda that CSI found a shard from a broken cup on the floor. Out of sight on the kitchen floor, covered with insecticide. Apparently, Barner didn’t notice it and sprayed right over it that afternoon. That’s the cup you broke when you were there earlier!”

“So what?” Then he caught the significance. “You mean it was on the floor unnoticed all afternoon. That proves Barner was there after me.”

“Yes. At that time both Barner and Towson were alive. One reason they denied bail was Moran told the judge you were the last person to see the victim alive. No way they could have been certain about that. They learned that Barner saw him alive much later. And they have no evidence that you went back up there. Bastards should have bonded you out immediately, when they found a major piece of their evidence discredited. By now they have their lab reports back finding no blood spatter on your clothes, so all of their circumstantial bullshit is falling apart. I haven’t been so angry since I dropped my phone in a restaurant toilet.”

“I’ll ask Kagan. Maybe he can inform the judge about this.”

“Ask hell! You don’t understand, there’s more. I dropped a bombshell. I was so mad I told Linda everything...plus a bunch of speculation. When she told me about Barner and the insecticide, I had a meltdown. The paper has it all now: Loraine, Tammy, Norma and Barner. All the names, the alleged rape, the phony Sonny Barner shooting, everything you said in your statement and anything we discussed since. Essentially, I discussed the contents of that signed statement you gave Moran. That statement was an official document of the prosecution. I could go to jail for disclosing it. Linda called the editor back in from home. They have their heads together right now deciding how much they can print.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Jerry Kagan. Moran might be willing to talk bail when he learns a big headline is on its way.”

S
unday morning Moran carried the thick newspaper out to his condo balcony to relax with his coffee. Later he’d watch the game on TV and pop a couple of beers. Then he saw the editorial caption,
Murder Investigation Broadens
.

He studied the editorial. The mood had changed. The editorial page that previously had beaten the drum for a speedy trial had now taken an explicit step toward criticizing the conduct of the investigation,
…the authorities must now assure us that the killer of our beloved senator doesn’t escape prosecution because of an inadequate investigation.

The paper insinuated that the investigation was off track and even went so far as to suggest that the police might not have the actual killer in custody. The paper intended to dig into it. The newspaper has something new, Moran thought. In less than an hour, he was dressed and having a rare Sunday meeting at police headquarters with the chief and Goddard.

“To start with,” Moran explained. “Kagan phoned me Friday and told me to give Reid bail or else. Said he was going back before the judge with new information. I blew him off. Then the newspaper runs this editorial. Something has definitely changed. Do you have Linda Call’s home number, Chief? Let’s find out what the paper is going to print.”

The chief spun his Rolodex, dialed and handed the phone to Moran. “Larry Moran here. Yes, just fine. Can you give me Monday morning’s headline?”

Linda replied, “I know what you’re getting at Mr. Moran. You’re not on the front page tomorrow, however, your investigation is the subject of a new series of articles. We’re putting them together right now with all the names. I’m afraid you won’t be pleased.”

“How did you find out the names of the subjects you believe to be part of the investigation?”

“Now you know my sources are confidential. Believe me we have it all. We’ll be sending it on to the AP wire for national distribution, and TV will pick it up from there. Why don’t you give me a statement now giving us your side? You’re going to have to sooner or later, you know.”

“No, and tell your editor I said the paper better be damn careful about printing a bunch of guesses.” His throat was now so tight he could barely force out a polite goodbye. He slammed the phone down. “Damn. How’d they get those names?”

“My guess is the paper has heard all the names from Sandy Reid,” Goddard had to admit. “She might even have talked to TV people.”

“She runs around and somehow everyone is willing to talk and help her,” the chief said.

“She’s in big trouble, if she showed Reid’s statement to the press.” Moran frowned. “What in hell is happening? I never had problems like this before with my cases. The sister, the sister, the little bitch is making my life miserable. Go lean on her, Goddard, and lean hard.”

“I didn’t become a cop to lean on people who aren’t breaking the law.”

“Well, then go make her break some law, and then lean on her. You cops know how to do that stuff. Do you think you can handle that? You’ve done worse, like breaking and entering.”

The chief’s eyes went from Moran to Goddard. “What’s he talking about?”

The detective stared at Moran harshly but didn’t speak. Huress must have seen him enter the Barner house and tattled to Moran.

Moran just shook his head. “And Chief is it true that Reid is still in city jail? Why? What is he, some celebrity? Why did no one inform me? I want him transferred to the county dungeon today.”

“He’s already scheduled for transfer today or maybe Monday,” the chief answered. “The judge had put a hold it. I thought you knew.”

Moran raised his voice, “Is the judge also a member of the Sandy Reid fan club? Damn it, the whole place is going to hell.”

“Can’t you let Reid bond?” the chief said. “That might pacify the sister. And we could get out in front of this negative story.”

“And replace him in jail with whom?” Moran answered. “We can’t say that all at once we realized the evidence we presented at the hearing wasn’t any good. I’d look like a fool.”

Goddard said, “You got in front of the cameras on day one saying Reid was unquestionably guilty. You left us no wiggle room.”

“That’s enough, Goddard. You were also strutting around, as I recall. The town demanded a suspect. And we needed someone in jail to keep the heat off.”

“You’d keep an innocent man locked up to keep from being uncomfortable?”

“It’s called strategy. So, now you believe Reid is innocent?”

“Okay, leave him in jail. I hope CNN gets your name right.”

“No.” Moran was firm. “Reid stays on the hook until we find a better suspect. What about the Tampa connection, the Cuban-Americans?”

“They had a muscle guy capable of murder. He’s the one who put Sandy Reid in the hospital.”

“I like him already.” Moran snickered. “Maybe we can get him to do it again.”

“But he was crude,” Goddard said, “and the Towson killing required some finesse. Coincidentally, he was murdered last week by Towson’s lover.”

Moran leaned forward. “What’s this?”

“Goddard, stop it,” the chief said. “He wasn’t murdered. We've no evidence to support that.”

“Wait, let’s think about that,” Moran said. “The Cubans send the bad guy out to kill Towson. Towson's lover doesn’t like that, so she kills the bad guy. That would be the Cuban Mafia connection.”

“Who said anything about a Cuban Mafia?” the chief asked.

“No one,” Goddard said. “As of right now, the Cuban-American involvement seems limited to a campaign dirty trick.”

“That’s because you’ve a small unimaginative mind. Get on that Cuban-American angle, Goddard.”

Goddard nodded although he had no idea how to do it. “This is new: I spoke to the insurance investigator for Concord Life, they insured Towson. The investigator needed copies of our reports for the claim. He had information from Towson’s attorney handling the estate.”

The chief broke in, “Most of the money and securities goes into a trust for some charity. Towson owned a condo in Palm Beach. It goes to a woman friend down there. His place here and most of his personal property goes to his Nebraska brother, although he did make some special bequests to a few individuals. He left some antique dishes to Tammy Jerold. She says give them to charity as well.”

“You’re boring me. What about the life insurance?”

“Loraine is the beneficiary. When they divorced, she took out a huge policy on Towson for her support, if the alimony stopped because of his death. The investigator wouldn’t say how much the policy would pay. I asked if it’s over a million and he said, oh yeah!”

“So, you’re saying take another look at Loraine?”

“She has several million motives,” Goddard replied.

The ex-wife of the victim wasn’t the big fish that Moran was hoping for; nevertheless, she’d be someone to replace Reid. “What’s her alibi?”

Goddard answered, “She was seen at the museum by one guard around three and by a second guard around five. We don’t know if she left in between, which happens to be the time of the murder. She had the means. Remember Reid spoke of seeing a gun at the motel.”

“We’re going in circles here. Reid must have been involved. He ran all over town that day. Either he’s a hit man, or Loraine romanced him into shooting Towson.”

“A hit man wouldn’t show up at a sophisticated party and get involved with some woman,” Goddard explained. “And if Reid is in love, why did he make accusations against Loraine from the start?”

The chief said, “I still say offer to let Reid out on bail, if the sister agrees to stay out of the investigation and not talk to the media. Then we keep investigating both of them.”

Moran was silent for a moment and then slammed his fist on the table. “No! It’s not going to be that way. I’m not going into court with some penny-ante tale about a woman who shoots her ex for life insurance. It's corny and it's peanuts. The national media won’t even bother to cover it.”

“Could be it
is
that simple,” Goddard said.

“Reid is perfect.” Moran sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “There’s enough here to completely confuse the jurors. He’ll look pathetic on the stand. The jury pool around here hates him to start with. Should be easy to get a conviction. I’ve waited too long for a case like this. Keep digging. We’re going ahead with Reid.”