Swan Song (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) (20 page)

“I’m glad the police have a suspect,” said Joe. He was turning into the Wieland’s neighborhood and he lowered his window to give his name to the guard at the subdivision’s gate. Once they were waved through, he continued. “The
Wielands will be encouraged to see that OPD is still pursuing the case and not dismissing it as a suicide.”

“I know they will, Joe, but I strongly suspect that Mike
Menello is
not
the killer.”

“I don’t think so, either, Julie.
Menello is a dandy, from what I hear. I can’t picture his type lurking around with a switchblade. And he would have been tired at four in the morning and looking to get back before Sabrina woke up.”

“My thoughts exactly.
Also, how would he have known Dianna was there?” said Julie. “Obviously, he wasn’t following her around. He was obsessed with
poker
, not Dianna.”

They pulled into the Wieland’s driveway and got out of the Land Rover.

“Let’s try to ease into this news, Joe. It’s going to hit her hard. She already feels guilty about Hoyt going to prison and what he endured there. To learn that the Gellers died so tragically not long after he was released….”

Joe nodded.

The door opened before they got to it.

“Hi,” said Betty. “I was watching for you. Come on in.”

She led them to the dining room, where there was a pot of coffee and brownies. Julie was glad to see that Betty’s demeanor was a little less haunted.

She’s coping much better, glad to see us.

“It’s early, so I thought we’d have some coffee,” she said as Julie and Joe sat down at the table. “Why don’t I take that box from you? I’ll put it back in the garage while you two help yourselves, all right?”

Joe handed her the box.

“Thanks,” said Betty. “Be careful. It’s a thermal pot; it really keeps the coffee hot.”

Julie took it upon herself to pour them each a cup of coffee and Joe, who loved chocolate, happily took two brownies. In a couple of minutes, Betty was back.

She poured a cup for herself.

“I see that the police are making some progress on the case,” she said. “The paper said that Michael
Menello filed a complaint against Bay Street Realty last year…something about a land deal he made. He
threatened
Dianna.”

“Yes, he did do that,” said Joe. “He was upset because he lost a lot of money, but it wasn’t the agency’s fault, Betty.”

“Oh, I knew that. Kate and Dianna would never cheat anyone. Why, everybody has lost property value in this recession! That man probably has mental problems.”

“He does have a problem, Betty, but I don’t know if it’s relevant,” said Joe. “He’s a compulsive gambler.”

“I saw that!” she said. “He got caught in the raid on that restaurant right near where Dianna died! I’d say that’s ‘relevant’
.”

Julie thought it was time to come to Joe’s aid.

“I think what Joe means is that, while the location of the restaurant is certainly of interest, Mike Menello’s gambling addiction actually makes it
less
likely that he followed Dianna and attacked her, Betty. We think that he was obsessed with poker, not revenge.”

“Then why are the police calling him ‘a person of interest’?’

“Because he was near the scene and he concocted a false alibi to hide the fact. They
will
charge him, though, if they think they have enough evidence,” said Joe.

“But you don’t think he’s the one,” said Betty, crestfallen.

“No,” said Julie. “But we have conclusively ruled out suicide, Betty.”

Tears welled in her eyes and she grabbed Julie’s hand.

“Who else could it have been, then…Hoyt?” She looked from Joe to Julie. “Hoyt went
crazy
in prison! He might have blamed Dianna, followed her here!”

“No he didn’t, Betty,” said Julie, as gently as possible. “Hoyt Geller is dead. He died in Massachusetts in 2006. It was a truck accident; his parents died, too.” Julie reached into her purse and withdrew a copy of the newspaper article and gave it to her.

“Oh, no,” she said, reading it, pressing a tissue to her lips. “They just got him back after seven years.”

Betty covered her face with her hands and cried.

Julie silently put her arm around her, and Joe lowered his eyes to the table cloth.

“Hoyt was such a handsome boy,” she said. “It was no wonder Dianna loved him. He looked like that actor in the movies who died young, too.” She sniffed, collecting herself. “You know that movie with Sal
Mineo? Oh, I forgot. You’re too young…you wouldn’t remember him.”

But
Julie was a fan of old movies and she already knew where this was leading.

“Do you mean ‘Rebel
Without A Cause’?”

“That’s the one. Natalie Wood was in it, too. Hoyt looked like the other actor…what was his name?”

“James Dean,” said Julie.

“Yes…spitting image.”

•

They had just gotten into the Land Rover outside the house.

“It’s Lincoln Tyler,” said Joe, pulling out of the driveway, “he’s Hoyt Geller!”

“Has to be…
can’t
be a coincidence,” said Julie. “That’s why Dianna was so interested in him. Remember what Sabrina Nolen said about Dianna at the Rodeo, ‘she almost fell over the railing trying to talk to him’ or something like that? Dianna knew it was Hoyt!”

“We’ve got to tell McPhee,” said Joe.

“What? Tell him
what
, Joe? That Linc looks like James Dean? That a guy who died in Massachusetts in 2006 also looked like James Dean? And we’re basing this on the memory of a woman who last saw the one in Massachusetts fourteen years ago?”

“Well…we can explain it better than that…”

“No, we can’t, Joe. I’ve got to go see Lincoln. I couldn’t read him accurately before; he was too accomplished at the James Dean impersonation and we didn’t know enough about him. He won’t be able to fool me now…I’ll get the truth, about what happened in Massachusetts…and about Dianna.”

Joe knew Julie too well to think he could stop her now.

“Well, you’re sure as hell not going to be alone with him! I’m going with you.”

* * * * * 

Chapter
48

T
he drive to Ocala seemed to take forever. Maybe that was because their investigation, to this point, had taken so long and now they were anticipating a breakthrough. Julie had joined forces with Joe in March and it was almost the end of May. On the plus side, her leg was getting stronger. The physical therapist had just given her a thumbs-up on a daily walk. “No running, though,” he’d warned. “You’ll break it again!”

Julie looked up, out the window of the Land Rover. The summer weather pattern seemed to be starting early this year. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky this morning when they went to the
Wielands’ house, but now they were drifting in, here and there, and a thunderstorm was predicted for the late afternoon.

“
Linc’s not happy about this third visit,” said Joe, turning onto the now familiar, two-lane road leading to Pleasure Ride Ranch.

“What did he say?”

“That he was working with three horses and he was ‘really busy’. He said he didn’t know when he ‘could get around’ to us. I told him it wasn’t a problem; we’d wait all day if necessary.”

“I hope we don’t have to wait all day. I think we’re in for a storm,” said Julie.

“You watch, Merlin, he’ll see us right away. That was just a stall. He couldn’t put me off, so he’ll want to get it over with and get rid of us.”

Joe turned in under the green and black arch with the
PR
brand circled in the center. The ranch was the same: the long red clay drive bordered by corral fencing, horses grazing on lush lawns and tall oaks strung with moss, the white ranch buildings trimmed in black and green. And yet, it seemed different. Julie decided that it was the increasing cloudiness of the sky, and perhaps the time of day, too.

The first time I saw Pleasure Ride it was late afternoon, the slanting sun had striped the ranch in golden tones. It’s still beautiful, but the glowing, storybook effect is gone…

Julie spotted Lincoln Tyler and another man in a big oval corral down a short path to the right of the main house.

“There’s Lincoln over there, Joe.”

“I better park here; that path isn’t made for cars. Can you walk that far?”

“Oh, sure.
The exercise is good for my leg. My therapist wants me to walk.”

Fortunately, the wide path was firm and relatively even.

Lincoln saw them coming, took off his Stetson and waved it. He said a few words to the other fellow, slapped his hat on his jeans and put it back on. He started across the corral towards them.

“What did I tell you?” said Joe in an aside. “No wait.”

“Hey, there, Mr. Garrett, Ms. O’Hara. Welcome back,” drawled Lincoln.

He’s planning to do James Dean for this whole meeting.

I don’t think so, Lincoln…

“Hi, Linc,” said Joe.

“Hello, Lincoln,” said Julie.” “Or should we call you Hoyt?”

Julie watched carefully as the shock totally took him out of the James Dean persona. There was no doubt that Hoyt Geller was the man standing before them. It didn’t take an expert to see it. Julie was sure that Joe saw it, too.

It’s almost like Multiple Personality Disorder, except he’s fully aware of it. Hoyt Geller is a third person…an entirely different person, distinct from the roles of James Dean and Lincoln Tyler. Even his posture has changed.

“Call me Lincoln. I think we need to talk this over in my cottage.”

“Sure,” said Joe, opening his jacket just enough to let him see his shoulder holster.

Lincoln got the message.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mr. Garrett. I’m the one who needs to be worried here. Let’s go.”

Julie and Joe followed him to the simple white cottage where he lived. They climbed the two wide plank stairs out front, passing by three white rockers aligned on the porch in front of the windows. It was clouding up and looked like it might rain…or maybe Lincoln felt this was an indoor kind of conversation.

He hit a wall switch and a couple of table lamps came on, glowing softly against the Florida knotty pine walls and rafters. Julie noticed cowboy art hung here and there. Considering the steep green metal roof outside, she shouldn’t have been surprised to see that the small building’s only bedroom was upstairs in an open loft, but she was. The first floor was all one large room. A small kitchen was tucked away in the corner with a round table and four chairs. Sitting on a wide area rug in front of a charred stone fireplace were a serviceable old couch and two chairs.

Lincoln tossed his Stetson onto one side of a handsome set of longhorns mounted on the fireplace and plopped in one of the chairs.

“Have a seat,” he said. “This is probably going to take awhile. How’d you find out?”

“Dianna’s mother suffered terrible guilt about the conviction of Hoyt Geller,” said Julie. “She never agreed with her husband that Hoyt had taken advantage of Dianna. Our research turned up the fact that Hoyt and his family died in an accident on their farm. We showed a newspaper article about it to Betty Wieland this morning. She cried over the death of “poor Hoyt and his parents”. And guess what, Lincoln? She mentioned that poor Hoyt looked ‘
just like James Dean’
.

“We could have called the police immediately,” said Julie. “But we decided to ask you some questions, to get your explanation first. So let’s get a big one out of the way. I’m guessing that the real Lincoln Tyler died in the crash with your parents. Do you want to tell us exactly how that ‘accident’ happened and who he was?”

Linc took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It was a sigh worthy of Atlas shrugging off the weight of the world.

“You’re right. Lincoln Tyler was my friend, kind of like a brother. He was born in Maine and left at an orphanage. He never knew his real parents. He ran away from an abusive foster home when he was sixteen and ended up in Massachusetts. He was living in a cabin in our town, barely getting by. Meanwhile, my parents had lost more than a son when I went to
prison, they’d lost a farmhand, too. They hired Lincoln to help out.. He was only two years younger than me and he took my place in more ways than one.

“But you have to understand; I was
glad
about that. Prison changed me…I didn’t want to live at home anymore, you know? Having Lincoln there made it easier for me to leave, at least I thought it would.

“It turned out that, Lincoln or no Lincoln,
leaving
was impossible. First of all, I couldn’t get a job. Every employment application asked, ‘Have you ever been convicted of a crime?’ If I said ‘yes’, they wanted all the details and I didn’t get the job. So, I lied…and I got a job…and then I got fired when they found out I lied.