The Winner (53 page)

Alicia Crane opened the door, looking anxious and tired.

“Yes?”

“Alicia Crane?”

“Yes.”

The man flashed his identification. “Hank Rollins, homicide detective, Fairfax County, Virginia.”

Alicia stared at the man’s photo and the badge affixed to it. “I’m not sure—”

“Are you an acquaintance of Thomas Donovan?”

Alicia closed her eyes and bit her lip on the inside. When she reopened her eyes she said, “Yes.”

Rollins rubbed his hands together. “Ma’am, I’ve got some questions to ask you. We can either do it down at the station or you can ask me in before I freeze to death, it’s your call.”

Alicia immediately opened the door. “Of course, I’m sorry.” She led him down the hallway to the living room. After settling him down on the sofa she asked him if he wanted coffee.

“That’d be great, yes, ma’am.”

As soon as she left the room, Rollins lurched to his feet and looked around the room. One item commanded his immediate attention. The photo of Donovan, his arm around Alicia Crane. It looked to be of recent vintage. They both looked extremely happy.

Rollins was holding the photo in his hands when Alicia walked back in carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and some creamer and two blue packets of Equal.

She lowered the tray to the coffee table. “I couldn’t find the sugar. The housekeeper ran an errand. She’ll be back in about an hour and I don’t usually—” Her eyes caught the photo.

“May I have that?” she asked. She set down the tray and held out her hand.

Rollins quickly passed the photo over and returned to his seat. “I’ll get to the point, Ms. Crane. You’ve read the newspaper, I assume?”

“You mean that pack of lies.” Her eyes flashed for an instant.

“Well, I’ll agree that it’s all largely speculation at this time; however, there’s a lot of things pointing toward Thomas Donovan having killed Roberta Reynolds.”

“His fingerprints and his gun?”

“It’s an active homicide investigation, Ms. Crane, so I can’t really go into it with you, but, yes, things like that.”

“Thomas wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Rollins shifted his bulk around, picked up a cup of coffee, and stirred some cream into it. He tasted the result and then poured the contents of an Equal pack into the cup before he resumed speaking. “But he did go visit Roberta Reynolds.”

Alicia crossed her arms and glared at him. “Did he?”

“He never mentioned it to you, that he was going to meet with her?”

“He told me nothing.”

Rollins pondered this for a moment. “Ma’am, we got your name off Donovan’s answering machine at his apartment. You sounded upset, said what he was working on was dangerous.” Alicia didn’t take the bait. “Also his place had been ransacked, all his records, files, everything gone.”

Alicia started to shake, finally steadying herself by grasping the arm of the chair she was sitting in.

“Ms. Crane, you might want to have some of that coffee. You don’t look too good.”

“I’m all right.” However, she did raise the cup and take several nervous sips.

“Well, if, as you say, someone went through Thomas’s apartment, then there must be someone else involved. You should focus your efforts on apprehending that person.”

“I’m not arguing with you on that point, but I have to have something to go on. I guess I don’t have to tell you that Ms. Reynolds was a very prominent member of the community and we’re getting a lot of heat to find her killer, pronto. Now I’ve already talked to someone at the
Trib.
He told me Donovan was working on a story having to do with lottery winners. And Roberta Reynolds was one of those winners. Now, I’m not a reporter, but when you’re talking that kind of money, maybe somebody would have a motive for murder.”

Alicia smiled for an instant.

“Something you want to tell me?”

Alicia returned to her prim manner and shook her head.

“Ms. Crane, I’ve been working homicide since my youngest was born and now he’s got his own kids. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re holding out on me and I’d like to know why. Murder isn’t something you want to screw around with.” He looked at the elegant room. “Murderers and those who
assist
murderers don’t end up in places nearly as nice as this one.”

Alicia’s eyes bulged at him. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying a damn thing. I came here looking for facts. I listened to your voice on Donovan’s answering machine. That voice told me two things: First, you were scared for him; second, you knew exactly why you were scared for him.”

Alicia kneaded and kneaded her lap with her fisted hands. She closed and opened her eyes several times. Rollins waited patiently while she went through her decision-making process.

When she started speaking it was in quick bursts. Rollins whipped out his notebook and scribbled.

“Thomas had initially started investigating the lottery because he was convinced that several top money management firms were taking the winners’ money and either losing it or charging such huge commissions, churning, he called it, that the winners were left with nothing. He also hated the government for, in essence, leaving these poor people exposed to all of that. And then so many of them not understanding how to handle their taxes, and then the IRS coming in and taking everything back. And more. Leaving them with nothing.”

“How did he arrive at that conclusion?”

“Bankruptcies,” she said simply. “All these people were winning all this money and then they were declaring bankruptcy.”

Rollins scratched his head. “Well, I’ve read about that from time to time. I always chalked it up to the winners’ not being money savvy. You know, spend everything they get, forget to pay taxes, that kind of stuff, like you said. Pretty soon, you can work your way right through all those winnings. Hell, I’d probably do the same thing, just go nuts.”

“Well, Thomas didn’t think that was all there was to it. But then he discovered something else.” She took another sip of coffee, her face coloring prettily as she recalled Thomas Donovan’s cleverness.

“Which was?” Rollins prodded.

“Which was the fact that twelve lottery winners in a row didn’t declare bankruptcy.”

“So?”

“So Thomas’s research went back many years. In all that time the ratio of winners to bankrupt was completely consistent. Then, right in the middle of this consistency were twelve who didn’t. Not only didn’t they declare bankruptcy but they grew far wealthier.”

Rollins rubbed his chin, unconvinced. “I’m still not seeing a story here.”

“Thomas wasn’t clear in his mind about that yet. But he was getting closer. He called me regularly from the road to let me know how things were going, what he had found out. That’s why I was so worried when I hadn’t heard from him.”

Rollins looked at his notebook. “Right. You mentioned danger in your phone message.”

“Thomas tracked down one of the twelve lottery winners.” Alicia paused and struggled to remember the name. “LuAnn somebody. Tyler, that’s right, LuAnn Tyler. He said she was charged with murdering somebody right before she won the lottery and then she disappeared. He tracked her down, partly through her tax records. He went to visit her.”

“Now, where was this?” Rollins was again scribbling in his notebook.

“Charlottesville. Lovely country, some of the most beautiful estates. Have you ever been?”

“On my salary, I’m not really into estate shopping. What next?”

“He confronted the woman.”

“And?”

“And she cracked. Or almost did. Thomas said you can always tell by the eyes.”

“Uh-huh.” Rollins rolled his own eyes. “So what was Donovan’s angle?”

“Excuse me?”

“His angle. What story was he going to write that you thought put him in danger?”

“Oh, well, the woman was a murderer. She had killed once, she could kill again.”

Rollins smiled lightly. “I see.”

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”

“I take my work very seriously. I just don’t see the connection. Are you suggesting that this LuAnn person killed Roberta Reynolds? Why would she do that? We don’t even know if they knew each other. Are you suggesting that she may have threatened Donovan?”

“I’m not suggesting that LuAnn Tyler threatened or murdered anyone. I mean I have no proof of that.”

“Then what?” Rollins was struggling to maintain his patience.

Alicia looked away. “I . . . I don’t know. I mean I’m not sure.”

Rollins stood up, closing his notebook. “Well, if I need any more information I’ll be in touch.”

Alicia just sat there, her face pale, her eyes shut. Rollins was almost at the door when she spoke. “The lottery was fixed.”

Rollins slowly turned and walked back into the living room. “Fixed?”

“He called two days ago and told me that. Thomas made me promise not to breathe a word to anyone.” She clutched at the hem of her skirt in her anxiety. “That LuAnn Tyler person practically admitted that the lottery was fixed. Thomas sounded, well, he sounded a little frightened. And now, I’m just so worried about him. He was supposed to call again, but never did.”

Rollins parked his bulk on the sofa once more. “What else did he tell you?”

“That he had contacted the other eleven winners, but that only one had called him back.” Her lips trembled. “Roberta Reynolds.”

“So Donovan did meet with her.” His tone was accusatory.

Alicia rubbed a tear from her eye. She didn’t speak but merely shook her head. Finally she said, “He had been working on this story for a long time, but he only recently confided in me. He was scared. I could tell in his voice.” She cleared her throat. “He had at least arranged to meet with Roberta Reynolds. The meeting was to take place yesterday morning. I haven’t heard from him since that time, and he’d promised to call me right after it was over. Oh, God, I know something terrible has happened.”

“Did he tell you who fixed the lottery?”

“No, but LuAnn Tyler told him to watch out for somebody. A man. That this person would kill him, that he was on Thomas’s trail and would find him. That he was very dangerous. I’m sure this person had something to do with that woman’s death.”

Rollins sat back and stared sadly at her and took a big gulp of the hot coffee.

Alicia didn’t look up. “I told Thomas to go to the police with what he knew.”

Rollins sat forward. “Did he?”

She shook her head fiercely. “Dammit no!” A huge breath escaped her lungs. “I pleaded with him to. If someone had fixed the lottery, all that money. I mean people would kill for that. You’re a policeman, aren’t I right about that?”

“I know people who’d cut your heart out for a couple of singles,” was Rollins’s chilling reply. He looked down at his empty coffee cup. “Got any more?”

Alicia started. “What? Oh, yes, I just made a fresh pot.”

Rollins took out his notepad again. “Okay, when you get back, we’ll have to go over every detail and then I’m calling in some reinforcements. I’m not afraid to admit that this one is looking like it’s way over my head. You up for a trip to police headquarters?”

Alicia nodded without much enthusiasm and left the room. She came back a couple of minutes later balancing the wooden tray, her eyes focused on the filled coffee cups, trying not to spill them. When she looked up her eyes widened in utter disbelief and she dropped the entire tray on the floor.

“Peter?”

The remnants of Detective Rollins—wig, mustache, facial mask, and malleable rubber padding—were neatly positioned on the wingback chair. Jackson, or Peter Crane, Alicia Crane’s elder brother, was looking back at her, his features infinitely troubled as his right cheek rested on his right palm.

Donovan’s observation that Bobbie Jo Reynolds had looked a lot like Alicia Crane was right on the mark. However, it had been Peter Crane’s alias, Jackson, disguised as Bobbie Jo Reynolds, who looked a lot like Alicia Crane. The family resemblance was remarkable.

“Hello, Alicia.”

She stared at the discarded disguise. “What are you doing? What is all this?”

“I think you should sit down. Would you like me to clean up that mess?”

“Don’t touch it.” She put one hand against the doorjamb to steady herself.

“I didn’t mean to upset you so,” said Jackson with sudden sincere remorse. “I . . . I guess when faced with confrontation, I’m just more comfortable not being myself.” He smiled weakly.

“I don’t appreciate this at all. I almost had a heart attack.”

He rose quickly, encircled her waist with one of his arms, and guided her over to the sofa. He patted her hand kindly. “I’m sorry, Alicia, I really am.”

Alicia again stared over at the remains of the beefy homicide detective. “What is this all about, Peter? Why were you asking me all those questions?”

“Well, I needed to know how much you knew about everything. I needed to know what Donovan had told you.”

She jerked her hand from under his. “Thomas? How do you know about Thomas? I haven’t seen or spoken to you in three years.”

“Has it been that long?” he said evasively. “You don’t need anything, do you? You just had to ask.”

“Your checks come like clockwork,” she said, a bit bitterly. “I don’t need any more money. It would have been nice to have seen you once in a while. I know you’re very busy, but we are family.”

“I know.” He looked down for a moment. “I always said I would take care of you. And I always will. Family is family.”

“Speaking of, I spoke with Roger the other day.”

“And how is our decadent, undeserving younger brother?”

“He needed money, like always.”

“I hope you didn’t send him any. I gave him enough to last a lifetime, even invested it for him. All he had to do was stay within a reasonable budget.”

“There’s nothing reasonable about Roger, you know that.” She looked at him a little nervously. “I sent him some money.” Jackson started to say something, but she hurried on. “I know what you said all those years ago, but I just couldn’t let him be thrown out on the street.”

“Why not? It might be the best thing that ever happened to him. He shouldn’t live in New York. It’s too expensive.”

“He wouldn’t survive. He’s not strong, not like Father.”