Stump Speech Murder (18 page)

“Conrad,” said Dobbs with an expansive gesture, “I guess we should hand the meeting over to you.”  No one seemed to object, so Conrad Gates stood up and placed his hands palm down on the table. 

“So,” he started, referring to a hand-written list on a clipboard he had placed in front of him.  “Here’s what we got.  James Grant, Martin Dobbs.  Friends from college.  Both graduate the same year from Grace University’s law school and decide to form their own law firm.  James marries college sweetheart Stacy Rollins, also a graduate of the law school here.  She goes to work for the DA and rises through the ranks until she eventually makes assistant district attorney.  Over the years, she’s been involved in prosecuting some rather nasty individuals.  Believe me, I’m looking into a possible connection there.  At the same time, James and Martin have been successful too.  Last year James begins discussing the possibility of running for mayor against longtime incumbent Hap Brewster.  Martin becomes James’s campaign manager and they begin a campaign in earnest.  Just a few weeks ago, polls were indicating that James was actually leading Hap Brewster and it looked like he would very probably win in November—just a few months from now.”

“We know all this, Mr. Gates,” said Joan.

“Just a review,” replied Gates, “Miss . . . uh, Dr. Bentley.”  He gave her a wide, infectious smile.  “Anyway, last week, James was scheduled to speak at a rally in the park.  This event occurred.  Media covered the event.  Incumbent mayor Brewster and his team arrived shortly after James spoke and hassled him in front of television reporter Ginger Cooper.  Eventually, Ms. Cooper finished her post-speech interview of James and turned her attention to Hap Brewster, conducting an interview of him that lasted approximately fifteen minutes.”

“Conrad,” interjected Dobbs, “tell them why this is important.”

“Yep,” said Gates, pushing harder on the table with his hands for emphasis. He jabbed at his clipboard as he continued. “Television station WRER has a record of exactly when the interview between Ginger Cooper and Hap Brewster was conducted.  And, unfortunately, it occurred at almost the exact same time that Stacy Grant called 911 and the police were dispersed to the Grant home where they found James kneeling over Stacy’s body.”

“Meaning,” said Willard, “that it would be impossible for Hap Brewster to have killed Stacy Grant.”  He wiped his hands on a paper napkin.

“The wonders of accurate date and time counters on video recordings,” said Gates with a shrug.

“But not impossible for one or more of his cronies to do it,” noted Pamela.

“That is correct,” said Gates.  “The station’s video counter only tells us that Hap Brewster himself could not have committed the crime. We have no idea where his various cronies, such as Victor Baines and Kevin Sturges, were.”

“But now that Pamela has received that threatening call,” added Joan, “who else would it be but a Brewster supporter?”

“Listen,” said Gates, still standing, and slapping his hands on the table again.  The effect was definitely gripping and each time he did it, it caused Pamela to jump uncontrollably in her seat.  “Let’s get the rest of the evidence out first and see if we can find any discrepancies before we start wondering about the ‘who’ in the case.”

“Yes,” agreed Dobbs.  “Anything else that you have, Conrad?”  He gathered the wrappings from the sandwiches and pushed them into a large paper bag. 

“I have done a thorough background check of James, Stacy, and Martin—sorry, buddy.” He glanced briefly at Dobbs with a sad hang-dog expression.  “For all we know, Stacy may have been killed for reasons unrelated to the election.  Unlikely, but possible.  I’m looking into everything. But so far I haven’t found a connection. So, why don’t you academic folks tell me what you’ve got, okay?”

“Go ahead, Pamela,” said Willard.

“Yes, Pam,” agreed Joan.  “Tell Mr. Gates what you’re thinking and what you found.”  Joan gazed at Gates with a shy smile.

“I haven’t really found anything specific,” Pamela said, sheepishly, “but I have some thoughts.  Willard too.  Right away, we were both curious about the 911 recording that Stacy sent.  It seemed strange to both of us, although we’re not exactly certain why.  At one point, I thought the voice on the tape might not be Stacy Grant.  I asked Ginger Cooper at WRER to send me some audio samples of Stacy’s voice in other circumstances—which she did.  I then compared the two samples—hoping to find that the 911 caller was someone other than Stacy—but it wasn’t.”

“Yet, you still believe there’s something strange about the 911 call?” asked Gates.

“Yes, I do,” said Pamela.

“Dr. Barnes,” said Gates, bending over the table and giving her a penetrating stare with his dark eyes, “I want you to keep examining those recordings.  You too, Dr. Swinton.  If you see any discrepancy, no matter how small, let me know.”

“We will,” agreed Willard, riveted to Gates and nodding with enthusiasm.

“This case is a lot like one I worked a few years back,” continued Gates, “Poor schmuck was discovered with his wife’s dead body.  This one happened outside.  They’d been boating and he claimed his wife fell overboard and he jumped in to save her.  He managed to drag her to shore and tried to resuscitate her but it was too late.  Police hemmed and hawed.  Couldn’t decide whether to charge him or not.  I mean, the fact that he dragged her in and tried to save her looked good, but when they checked further, it turned out the couple had been fighting.  In fact, the wife had contacted an attorney about filing for divorce.  No one knows why they were out boating together.  Neither one of them had any real interest in the sport.  The police eventually arrested him, claiming that he set up the boating excursion to cover the murder attempt.  No eye witnesses.  He could have pushed her over and held her under water until she drowned and then dragged her to shore and pretended to try to revive her.”

“Didn’t the coroner find any suspicious marks on the wife’s body?” asked Dobbs.  “I mean, if the husband held her underwater, you’d think she’d try to fight him off.”

“The coroner’s report was inconclusive,” replied Gates, in thought.  “There were marks, but the coroner said they were also consistent with marks the husband might have made dragging her to shore.”

“There’s nothing like that in James’s case,” said Joan.  “I don’t see how hitting someone over the head with a candlestick from behind would give the victim a chance to leave any defensive marks.”

“It wouldn’t,” replied Gates.  “But the police can surmise a number of clues about the killer from the head wound.”

“Such as?” asked Willard.

“This is conjecture on my part,” noted Gates, “because they obviously believe they’ve got their man, but killing someone by hitting them on the head with a metal object supposes fairly good upper body strength.”

“Something you have, Willard,” said Pamela to her companion with a chuckle.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s gratifying to know I could do in a poor defenseless woman.”

“It also presupposes that the killer attacked from behind because the wound was on the back and side of her head.  Which also suggests that Stacy knew the killer as she was apparently willing to turn her back on him—or her.”

“Could it have been a her?” asked Pamela.

“It would have to be a very strong woman,” said Gates, “if it was—and probably a tall one.  Or Stacy would have had to be seated with her back to the killer.”

“Any number of possibilities that could have occurred,” said Dobbs.  “What about how the killer arrived? Or why? Is it possible that Stacy mistook the real killer for her husband when she called 911?  She might have seen the killer outside.”

“So she let him in and then turned her back on him so he could bash her over the head?” posited Gates.  “Doesn’t sound likely.”

“You are all aware that James says he received a call from Stacy urging him to come home at once,” said Pamela.

“Yes,” agreed Martin.  “He did, but unfortunately he didn’t save it.  I’ve checked with the police and they do admit that there was a call made to James’ cell shortly before the 911 call from the Grant landline phone.  But their belief is that it was Stacy trying to contact her husband when she saw him attempting to break into their home.  Possibly they argued.  But whatever occurred during that short call, the police believe that it was enough to frighten Stacy into then phoning 911.”

“So without the actual content of the message from Stacy,” argued Gates, “it looks really bad for James.  I wish there was some way we could get that message.”

“He did tell me when I saw him,” continued Pamela, “that the call from Stacy was very short.  In fact, she didn’t even let him ask her any questions or even respond.  She just told him to come home and then she hung up.”

“That doesn’t seem all that strange,” suggested Joan.  “I mean, if she was scared that someone was trying to break in, she’d just tell him what she needed to say and then hang up.”

“But, then why immediately call 911 and report James for trying to break in?” mused Willard.

“There are a number of very strange things in this case,” observed Pamela, “and if you notice, they all seem to concern phone calls.”

“What do you mean, Pamela?” asked Dobbs.

“The phone call from Stacy to James that we don’t have, the phone call from Stacy to 911 that we do have.  If you think about it, these two calls cancel each other out.  If the police had a copy of the first, they would suspect the validity of the second.  But they only have the second, so they have no reason to believe the first even exists.”

“Whereas, we, on the other hand,” said Gates, finger to mustache, “have both—or at least we believe in the existence of both—leaving us with the major discrepancy of this case.  Which call really represented what Stacy Grant was trying to tell us?  Or even, which of these calls did Stacy Grant actually make?”

“Or,” said Pamela, “did she make either one of them?”

“What?” said Dobbs.  “I thought you verified Stacy’s voice on the 911 call, Dr. Barnes.”

“I did,” she replied.  “but consider the repercussions if Stacy Grant hadn’t made any phone calls at all.”

“You mean, Pamela,” said Joan, “if someone faked her voice?”

“Or something,” replied Pamela.  She squinted at the center of the table at the pile of leftover food and wrappings in an attempt to focus in on the answer to the puzzle.

“I don’t know how we’d go about proving that,” said Gates.  “But if someone went to all that trouble, it indicates that someone was planning this murder for quite some time.”

“I don’t know if that’s what happened,” said Pamela.  “I just know that there is something strange about the recording.”

“Pamela, my dear,” said Willard, nudging his colleague on the arm, “we must redouble our efforts and examine that recording with greater thoroughness.”

“Yes,” agreed Pamela, “we must, and we will.” She smiled at Willard and then looked around the room at the three other faces looking towards them.

“Everyone,” said Dobbs, eventually, “it looks like we have several new directions to try.  Pamela and Willard will be checking out Stacy’s 911 call.  Conrad will look into Stacy and James’s background to see who—if anyone—might have a reason to harm either of them.  I, myself, will go see James in jail again and press him more about anything he can contribute to our efforts.  And Joan, I’m sure you will help Willard and Pamela in any way possible.”

“I certainly will,” replied Joan.  With that, the group rose, assisting Martin Dobbs in clearing the trash from the table.  Pamela and Willard headed out to her car.  Joan remained behind and the last Pamela saw of her friend, she was chatting—or should we say, flirting—with the team’s investigator, Conrad Gates.  Gates had apparently forgotten about his promise to follow her home.

Chapter Twenty

Pamela drove carefully down the main street of Reardon, chatting amiably with her passenger and colleague, Willard Swinton.  Although she and Willard worked together closely on research studies on a fairly regular basis, their interactions were primarily professional.  This car ride was a decided change in their mode of communication and Pamela was enjoying Willard’s companionship as she made her way towards the small suburban apartment complex where she knew he lived alone. As a handicapped faculty member, Willard relied on the University’s handicapped van for transportation to and from campus.

“How exhilarating!” said Willard, practically beaming.  “Doesn’t it feel grand to be able to use our research skills to help someone in such a personal way?”

“Definitely,” she replied, sending him a quick short smile so that she could keep her eyes on the road.