Rock & Roll Homicide (23 page)

I replied, “Without a doubt. The only mitigating circumstance I can imagine is if one of his hooligan buddies heard Nigel carping about the contract negotiations and took it upon himself to make Nigel the star.”

“Is that what you think happened?” asked David.

“No. I think Nigel was the ringleader and even morons know enough not to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs without permission,” I said. “So, tell me about the research you did on Nigel.”

“At first it was just Terry’s gut telling him Nigel’s friends were going to be a problem. After seeing their pictures all over Nigel’s house, he ran into them at a club one night, a few weeks before he died, and got a very bad vibe. I tapped into an international network and found that all three of them have criminal records. One in particular, Devin Billingsly, has a history of sadistic charges. He started out strapping home made mini-bombs to the household pets of Irish Catholics, then worked his way up to farm animals. He was arrested on three occasions for detonating bombs that resulted in human death, but he was never convicted. Once, the prosecution had a witness, but she suddenly disappeared a week before trial and Billingsly walked. I have no doubt he did the handiwork on the headphones,” he said.

“What else can you tell me about the hooligans?” I asked.

“All of them are Irish citizens. Warren Bates had a work visa and came out to San Diego to help with his uncle’s landscaping business for a year,” he said.

“Do you remember the name of the uncle’s business?” I asked.

“It’s called Emerald Landscaping. The uncle’s name is Paul McDougal. I checked him out, thinking bad blood may run in the family, but he came up clean. In fact, I got into his emails and found one to Warren’s mother explaining that he was pulling the plug on the employment arrangement because of character issues and other major concerns. He kept it pretty general, not wanting to hurt his sister with details, but I got the impression that McDougal is a straight shooter and wanted nothing to do with Bates,” he said.

“Did you find out if it’s the kind of landscaping outfit that mows lawns or the kind that comes in after construction projects?” I asked.

“They do major construction contracts and, get this, during the time Warren was there they worked almost exclusively on a huge multi-tract project in Sorrento Mesa. While Emerald was landscaping one tract, the general contractor was excavating adjacent tracts,” David said.

“Sounds like a great place to pick up blasting caps,” I said.

“Exactly,” said David.

“Any info on Theodore Pine?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, Teddy Boy is very low tech. I don’t know much beyond his nickname, which is synonymous with ass-kicker in Great Britain,” he said.

“Does Nigel pay bills or do banking over the Internet?” I asked.

“He’ll make an occasional purchase, but he’s careful and I’ve checked him out in ways you couldn’t imagine,” he said.

“I have a theory that Nigel recommended the headphones to either Chelsea or Terry. I’ll ask her about it tomorrow. I’d like to get you the name of the manufacturer. Is there a way to do that safely without driving back up here?” I asked.

“Use the email drop-box I set up for Terry,” he said and shook my hand, pressing a note that contained the email address. If you don’t want the feds on your tail I suggest you take a circuitous route back to your car.”

“One last question,” I said. “Was Gavin Tomko helping Terry, too?”

“Gavin would let Terry use his ID so that he could go out in public without getting overwhelmed by fans. He doesn’t know anything about this. You can talk to him if you like, but it will be a waste of time,” David said, then broke into a jog. I climbed up the first beach access I could find, and walked a few neighborhoods before retrieving my car.

Chapter 25

At 9:00 AM Wednesday I called Chelsea from my office. As expected, I reached voice-mail and left a message. I spent the next hour deciding how I was going to proceed with Nigel. There didn’t seem to be any advantage to maintaining a friendly relationship since I was sure that if Victoria didn’t tell him about my visit that Ian would. I sent David Cooper the email we talked about and hoped his hacking skills could give me a clearer picture of how the murder went down.

I hadn’t given up on the possibility that the original headphones Chelsea had given to Terry were somewhere other than a landfill or the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. I felt it was important, once Nigel knew he was a suspect, that someone keep a close eye on him at all times in case he decides to move Terry’s headphones to a safer place. This would mean long stakeouts and, considering Cory’s broken ribs and his desire to do something to make up for the
California Confidential
fiasco, I felt it best not to bring him in on this one. I called Dad and asked him to lunch.

“Didn’t you tell me Wednesday night is date night for you and Kelly?” he asked.

“It is, but there are a lot of things happening quickly. I may have to postpone with her this week,” I said.

“Don’t do that, son. She’ll feel like she’s always playing second fiddle to your career. Cops have just about the highest divorce rates of any profession and PI’s experience many of the same strains. Like it or not, you got a lot of publicity from that television show and should be busy with cases for years to come,” he said. “I’m no expert on relationships but I’ll bet Kelly’s busting to tell you about her new class now that school just started. Let her tell you all about it on the ride over here and at dinner. Afterwards she can help your mother in the kitchen and we’ll talk. What do you say?” he asked.

Dad was helping me and I appreciated it. For so many years we instinctively said no to each other. “OK. How about if we come over at 7:30?” I asked.

“Your mother will be thrilled. We’ll see you then, son,” he said and hung up.

Less than a minute later the phone rang and I thought Mom nixed the idea because of a prior commitment. I answered the phone before Jeannine could pick up by asking, “Is there a problem?”

“Is this Jason?” Chelsea Tucker asked.

“Chelsea, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else. I’ll bet it felt great sleeping in you own bed last night,” I said.

“You have no idea,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I don’t think I would be alive today if it wasn’t for your advice about acting psycho at the jail.”

“I wish I could give you a couple of days to get your head together after that ordeal, but I really need to meet with you today,” I said.

“I understand. Tell me when and where and I’ll be there,” she said, no longer exuding the supreme confidence she demonstrated in the past.

“Why don’t I stop by your place. You may want to avoid the public for a while if possible,” I said.

“It’s almost eleven. If you want to come over now I’ll make lunch,” she said with a slight quiver in her voice.

“That would be terrific. I’ll leave here in ten minutes,” I said.

“I’ve been craving a chicken club sandwich for two days. Will that be OK?” she asked.

“Great. Should I stop for anything?” I asked.

“I’m out of Diet Coke, would you mind?” she asked.

“No problem. I’ll see you soon,” I said and hung up.

I then called Kelly’s cell phone and left a message asking if she would like to have dinner with my parents.

Just as I was about to leave the office, an email came in from David Cooper, which said, “Devin Billingsly purchased three sets of Delatorre headphones from a distributor in Ireland.”

About six blocks from Chelsea’s house I pulled into a 7/Eleven to pick up a six-pack of Diet Coke. I’m usually a fanatic about locking my car door. I learned the hard way when I was eighteen years old and had my guitar stolen while I was at a friend’s house for no more than twenty minutes. Since then I’ve locked my door except when I stop at a gas station or a convenience store, because they usually have huge windows facing their parking lots. I took three steps toward the 7/Eleven and froze in my tracks. It suddenly hit me that Terry stopped at a 7/Eleven after he left Denny’s the day he was killed. Nigel went to the restroom as they were leaving, giving Terry the impression he was alone when he stopped for his iced tea, but Nigel could very well have followed him and swapped the headphones while Terry was getting his Super Big Gulp.

When I arrived at Chelsea’s house she was every bit as friendly and energized as she was on the phone. “Why don’t we eat first, then talk,” she suggested.

“That’s fine with me,” I said and followed her to the dining room. I have seen many people shortly after being released from jail, including several first-time offenders from affluent homes. They are almost always either depressed or angry. Never have I seen anyone have such a positive metamorphosis as Chelsea Tucker. We ate and exchanged small talk. Then Chelsea cleared the table, refreshed our soft drinks, and sat down across from me. “Are you ready to talk?” I asked.

     “I think so,” she replied and took a deep breath.

“I’m 99% certain I know who killed Terry. It’s somebody you know and the normal response is that you’re going to want to lash out at him, then you’re going to want to tell the world it wasn’t you who did it. But, if you do that he’ll have time to get rid of evidence and our chances of catching him and punishing him will be hurt. So be honest with yourself and tell me if you’re going to be able to keep it a secret,” I said.

“I want to know, Jason,” she said while maintaining eye contact.

“Promise me you’ll let me and the police handle it and not do anything to get retribution,” I stated.

“I promise. After what I just went through I can guarantee you that I have no intention of ever getting a parking ticket.”

I said, “Before I tell you I have a couple of questions. First, tell me why you decided to purchase the brand and model of headphones you gave to Terry.”

“He was complaining that he had a problem with outside noise when he listened to his audio notes between songs. I was in the process of trying to find a pair that touted extraneous noise reduction when Terry came home one day and said he heard that Delatorre Electronics put out a line that would do a great job,” she said.

     “Did he say who gave him the recommendation?” I asked

“Nigel told him they were a little heavy but would take out 90% of the background noise he’d get in the studio,” she said.

“Did he recommend a particular model?” I asked.

“No. He just told Terry that the more expensive ones would do the best job,” she said.

“How many expensive ones were there to choose from?” I asked.

“There were quite a few, but only three of them claimed to radically reduce outside noise,” she said.

I spent the next fifteen minutes telling her what led me to the conclusion that Nigel had killed her husband. “If all goes well we should nail him within the week,” I said.

“Can I tell my attorneys?” she asked.

“No. They all have their own agendas. Not that I could ever imagine Reginald Rutherford taking advantage of an opportunity to grab a front-page headline,” I said sarcastically.

“I see your point. Too bad Daddy has to pay him all that money to work on my defense,” she said.

“Nigel isn’t in custody yet and you’re not off the hook either. Let him do his thing; it could work to our advantage with the DA’s office,” I said.

“How so?” she asked.

“After going out on a limb and arresting you they normally wouldn’t want to give up on you as the prime suspect. But the prospects of Reginald Rutherford making them look like fools could help open their eyes to Nigel; especially if we aren’t able to produce the headphones you gave to Terry or get a confession out of one of Nigel’s hooligan friends,” I said.

“Thanks for agreeing to come back to work for me. I was such a brat. I got so wrapped up in myself I couldn’t see that you were doing everything you could to help me,” she said emotionally.

“You’ve been through a lot in a short period of time. I’m really glad you hired me back because I just wasn’t able to let it go during my brief period of unemployment,” I said. Chelsea gave me a hug, walked me to the door and said goodbye.

When I got back to the office I had two messages. The first was from Walter Shamansky and the other was from Nigel. I called Shamansky first. When he came on the line I said, “This is the Rutherford legal team returning your call.”

“How is your Nigel theory coming?” he asked.

“It’s getting stronger by the hour. I just came from Chelsea’s house and guess who recommended the brand of headphones?” I asked.

“He didn’t happen to put it in an email or a note, by chance, did he?” Shamansky asked.

“No, but I did learn some interesting facts about his hooligan buddies,” I said.

“Such as?” he asked. I told him what David Cooper had told me without revealing my source. “Let me buy you dinner tonight. I’m in a manpower bind and was hoping we could come up with a plan of attack.”

“I already have dinner plans, but let me see if I can cut you in. I’ll call you back in ten,” I said and hung up.

I called my parent’s home and mom answered. “Could you handle another guest for dinner?” I asked.

“Anybody I know?” she asked.

“Detective Walter Shamansky,” I replied.

“I think you better get a green light from your father first,” she said.

“Good idea. Is he around?” I asked.

“Hold on,” she replied.

Two minutes later I put in my request and Dad said, “We’re not exactly on the best of terms.”

I said, “I was going to ask you to help me by staking out the perp. Shamansky just called to say he agrees with me but is in a tight spot because of arresting Chelsea. He wants to get it right and needs our assistance.”

“OK, he’s invited to dinner, but tell him not to expect any pigs-in-a-blanket,” he said.

“Promise me we won’t hear the word Pollack or any other ethnic slur,” I said, and there was a long pause. “Kelly’s very sensitive about that stuff. I don’t think she’d want to come back to your house if you embarrass Shamansky.”

“You’re worse than your mother. Alright, I’ll treat him like he’s related to the Pope,” he said.

I called Shamansky back and told him what I had in mind. He was shocked by the invitation, but appreciated the help.

I decided to avoid Nigel altogether and had Jeannine call and tell him I was going to be tied up with a group of Russians for the rest of the day, but would like to meet with him tomorrow. He agreed to meet me at his home at 10:00 AM.

As we drove to my parents’ house I told Kelly that Shamansky was joining us, but we would hold the shop-talk until after dinner. “In the meantime, I’d like to hear about your new class.” She spent the rest of the drive telling me all about it. Sometimes people just need to vent. Fortunately, there wasn’t a pop quiz at the end of our trip since my focus frequently drifted to my meeting with Dad and Shamansky.

We arrived fifteen minutes before Shamansky. Dad and Walter were cordial to one another, like the leaders of two warring countries at a peace summit. I could tell both hoped something positive could be accomplished, but both were basically distrustful of the other.

The dinner conversation centered on Kelly. For me, it was like a chick flick double feature. This time Mom kept jumping in and relating the conversation to when I attended school, so I was forced to pay closer attention. Shamansky chimed in periodically. I had a feeling he would be attentive to Kelly considering his penchant for attractive young women. He also addressed me with a new respect that I could tell came more from the fact that I was dating a looker than out of deference to my parents.

When dinner was over Dad suggested that the men grab a beer and adjourn to the backyard. When we got out there, Dad said, “Let’s get down to business. I understand you need some help with the case.”

I gave a ten-minute summary, highlighting new developments and facts that emerged since our last conversation. When I finished the summary I said, “I have a meeting set up with Nigel tomorrow at 10:00 AM. I’m trying to decide whether to confront him with the facts or give him a false sense of security while I continue to build the case.”

“What would be the advantages of a confrontation?” Shamansky asked.

“Nigel thinks he’s gotten away with it. He’s proceeding with his plans to replace Terry and hire a top notch agent. I think he’s under a lot of pressure as the businessman of the band. If he finds out we’re on to him he could very well make a mistake.”

“Like what?” asked Shamansky.

“I think it’s possible that the headphones Chelsea bought for Terry could still be around. If not, the other two purchased by Billingsly could help build the case if they’re recovered. Nigel or his girlfriend might try to dump them if they’re at his house. Or, he could call the friend in Southeast San Diego to make sure they’re gone,” I said.

“What would be the advantage of keeping Nigel in the dark a little longer?” Dad asked.

“I’m almost certain the hooligans are back in Ireland. Nigel just got back from there today. Unless they returned with him we won’t be able to bring them in,” I said.

Shamansky said, “We’d have a much better chance of breaking this open if we could get Nigel’s posse back in the country and put the four of them in separate interrogation rooms.”

“So how do we get them back here?” asked Dad.

“Give me a minute, I’m getting an idea,” I said.

“How about if I get us another round of beers while you figure it out,” Dad said.

“Great idea, Jim,” said Shamansky. “Can I give you a hand?”

“Sure,” Dad said with a quizzical look on his face. I don’t know what they talked about in the five minutes they were gone and, frankly, I didn’t care.

“So let’s have it,” said Dad when they returned. “What’s your idea?”

“Shamansky, I suggest you and I pay another visit to Chofsky. You read him the riot act for getting that actor killed at the cemetery and threaten to have him deported. I’ll suggest that if he can help us catch the killer you’ll call it even. We make Chofsky tell Nigel he doesn’t want the band worrying about their safety, especially after Terry and Torhan’s deaths, as well as the shooting at the cemetery. He tells Nigel that he’d be glad to assign one of his security men to each of the band members. Or, as the new leader of the band, he could bring in his own men. He goes on to tell Nigel that he prefers men from his own country and, if Nigel would feel more comfortable with Brits, he’d pay them a salary of $40K per year and sponsor them for a work visa. So that it doesn’t seem too staged, he tells him the bodyguards would be expected to perform security duties at his compound once things calm down and the band isn’t touring. But, he wants them in place within the week and he wants to meet them as soon as possible. One bodyguard for each band member,” I said.