Accessory to Murder (13 page)

Alyce didn't laugh. Josie worked beside her, straightening drawers and making chitchat. She knew Alyce would spill when she felt like it. They watched Milton “Jake” Bohannon do the perp walk several times on TV, then turned it off when they couldn't bear it anymore.

Alyce was right. Her husband looked scared and somehow smaller. Jake also looked guilty. He stumbled once on the humiliating walk to the jail. Alyce stared frozen-faced at the TV. Josie wished she'd cry. Her fearsome silence was worse than weeping.

The news stories featured the same photo of Halley, smiling, shining, successful. She looked like she would live forever. Once again, Josie was struck by the dead woman's resemblance to Alyce—a more stylish, thinner Alyce.

“She looks like me, doesn't she?” Alyce said when they saw Halley's photo again.

“There's a resemblance,” Josie said.

“No wonder the cops think Jake had an affair with her,” Alyce said. “Everyone at his office thinks he was her lover. But Jake swears he wasn't, and I believe him.”

You have to, Josie thought. She wondered how long Alyce's faith would last. Why wouldn't Jake tell her about his business with Halley? Why didn't Alyce make him? Was she afraid of his answer? Did she need to hang on to her last illusions? Josie had had to face the truth about the men she'd loved. It had scalded her soul.

“Are you OK?” Josie asked. “I mean, for money and stuff? I have a little in the bank.”

“Thanks, Josie,” Alyce said. “The firm is paying Jake for now. We'll be fine financially. His parents are on a cruise around the world for their anniversary, and I'm not contacting them unless this goes to trial. They're better off not knowing. There's nothing they can do. I'm glad my parents are dead. My mother would die of shame. Justin is too young to know what's going on. All I can do is try to live a normal life.”

But Josie didn't think that was possible. Already, Alyce's house was smothered in silence. Usually her phone rang almost nonstop with calls from her committee friends and neighbors.

Today, no one called or came by, except for little brown-haired Joanie Protzel.

She bustled in, hauling a huge tray. “I just stopped by to bring you a little something to keep your strength up.” She looked at her watch. “Oops, I have to go.” Joanie ran out of Alyce's house as if her misfortune were contagious.

Josie lifted the cover on the tray. There was an artful display of corned beef, roasted turkey, and kosher salami, decorated with onion blooms and carrot roses, and piled with Jewish rye, bagels, and knot rolls.

Joanie never said what the tray was, but Alyce knew: Mourning food.

Was there an escape clause in the wedding vows? Did “in sickness and in health” also mean in jail and without a job? Jake Bohannon had dragged Alyce into a murder, and Josie was powerless to help her.

Alyce had shared Jake's success, but she deserved to. She'd devoted her life to his career. She gave dinners for the firm's partners and major clients, served on committees, ran his household, and cared for their son. Now she would share his shame.

What did Josie know about the man who could destroy her friend's life?

Nothing. I didn't even know his real name, she thought. Josie'd had no idea Jake had been baptized Milton. She wondered if that was a family name. She knew Jake came from old St. Louis money. He'd gone to the right schools. He lunched at the Missouri Athletic Club and golfed at the St. Louis Country Club. He was on the board of two or three charities.

But Josie could get that information from his résumé.

She knew nothing about Jake the man. What did he want? What would he do to get it? Would he sacrifice his wife and son? Josie had no idea.

When she'd talked to Jake on the phone, he was always polite. But people of his class wore good manners like good tailoring. Josie never knew what faults they hid. She'd met Jake a few times, but couldn't picture him clearly. She remembered a long patrician face, dark hair, broad, slightly hunched shoulders, and white manicured hands.

In person Jake had been courteous but distant, as if he couldn't quite place her. “Josie, right?” he'd said the second time he'd met her. When he went through the same routine the next time they met, Josie felt she was not important enough for Jake to remember.

About a year ago, Josie finally admitted to herself that she didn't like Jake. She struggled to keep this secret from Alyce. Josie felt she had no business criticizing any woman's mate. She'd made her own mistakes. At least Jake never sold drugs, like the men she loved.

Now she sat in Alyce's kitchen, staring at Joanie Protzel's artfully arranged deli platter and wondering what she was going to say. Josie picked up an onion bloom and absently twirled it, then pulled the leaves off a carrot rose.

If Amelia did that, I'd tell her to stop playing with her food, Josie thought. How can I help Alyce? What can I say that won't sound like I'm criticizing her husband? Josie prayed for tact, something she had in short supply. She felt no sudden infusion of wisdom. She couldn't sit there torturing innocent vegetables. Might as well start.

“If Jake's innocent—,” Josie said.

“He is,” Alyce said. The two words cut off any doubt.

“Why are the police so eager to go after an innocent man?” Josie asked.

“They're desperate,” Alyce said. “They falsely arrested a young African-American. It was an outrageous mistake. They're facing major lawsuits, plus a boycott of the Dorchester Mall. So they turned around and arrested a rich white man. Now they're not guilty of racism.”

“It's even more dangerous to arrest an attorney,” Josie said. “Talk about lawsuits. Jake is a blameless corporate lawyer. He was miles away when Halley was killed. He could wind up owning the Dorchester Mall.” There. That was tactful as all get-out. Josie was proud of herself. “Er, what exactly do the police have on Jake?”

Alyce poked at a piece of turkey. “I admit it looks bad,” she said. “But there's a good explanation.”

Uh-oh, Josie thought, and sacrificed another carrot to the cause.

“There hasn't been discovery yet,” Alyce said, “so we don't know everything the prosecution has, but Jake's lawyer, Andy, has a pretty good idea. He found a leak in the prosecutor's office.”

“What kind of leak?” Josie had a sudden, delightful vision of Mike the plumber and his toolbox.

“A waitress where the lawyers meet for breakfast told Andy some things,” Alyce said. “The prosecutors talk too much and don't tip.”

“And Jake's lawyer tips?”

“Big-time,” Alyce said.

Josie wondered if “tip” meant “bribe.” She'd spent enough time in restaurants to know that customers often talked freely, especially regulars with their own table.

“I don't understand how the cops can tie your husband to a carjacking,” Josie said.

“The gun that killed Halley was registered to Jake,” Alyce said.

“Ohmigod. But it was stolen out of his car, right?”

“Yes. But Jake didn't notice it was missing until after the police questioned him. He reported it stolen, but now they don't believe him. He doesn't lock his car all the time, especially in Wood Winds, and there was no sign of a break-in.

“There's more,” Alyce said. “The police have been through his home computer's hard drive.”

“Already?” Josie asked.

“I told you. They really want him for this,” Alyce said. “They're bending every little fact into proof of his guilt. They found an e-mail that Jake forwarded to the women in our subdivision warning them about carjacking.”

“What's wrong with that?” Josie asked.

“The police say Jake was setting up a scenario to make Halley's carjacking more believable. The carjacking e-mail is an urban legend. It's been debunked on Snopes.com, the urban legend Web site.”

“So what?” Josie said. “Half the e-mails I get have been debunked by Snopes.”

“There's also a videotape,” Alyce said. She stuck a fork in a thick slice of roast beef and rolled it like a rug. “They have a security video of Jake in the parking garage at the Dorchester Mall. When the crime rate skyrocketed, the mall put in extra cameras.

“The video is grainy and hard to see because the tape has been used so much. But it's definitely Jake standing by his Lexus. It looks like he's handing money to some young men in gangsta clothes. One is big and burly. The other is small and thin. You can't see the faces clearly, but the person who shot Halley is usually described as a small, thin African-American male.”

“There's more than one thin man in St. Louis,” Josie said. “Jake knows the kids, right? They all dress that way. They're probably some client's sons guilting Jake into buying something for a school fund-raiser. Do you know how much I shell out for school pizzas, wrapping paper, and candy bars for the neighborhood kids?”

“Jake doesn't know who they are,” Alyce said. “He says two young men approached him in the Dorchester garage and wanted twenty dollars to ‘protect' his car. Jake paid them because he thought it was easier than going through the insurance hassle if they keyed the paint or slashed his tires.”

“Can he describe them?” Josie asked. “Did he get their names?”

“If you're extorting money, you don't usually give your name. He said they looked like two young toughs.”

“Did he report the incident to mall security?” Josie asked.

“No. Jake was in a rush. He was late for a meeting.”

“Why was he at the mall in the first place?” Josie said.

“His watchband broke. He got a new one at the mall repair shop. He has a credit card receipt.”

“What's the problem?” Josie could see Jake being too busy to bother about a mere twenty dollars. People like him threw twenties around like beads at a Mardi Gras parade.

“It happened two days before Halley died.”

“Oh,” Josie said.

“Jake's attorney has a private investigator looking for the young men. So far he hasn't found them.”

He wasn't likely to, Josie thought. After the shooting, there wouldn't be any gangsta wannabes within ten miles of that mall. The place would be crawling with police. Nervous shoppers and jittery store owners would report a dark-skinned kid in baggy clothes doing anything suspicious—like breathing.

“Well, in that case, they definitely weren't some client's kids,” Josie said. “His story makes sense to me. How would Jake know a couple of street toughs, anyway?”

Alyce kept prodding the roast beef with a fork, until Josie wanted to grab it away. Finally, she spoke. “Jake is on the board of Fresh New Start, the scholarship program for young men who've been in trouble with the law. The board meetings are in an iffy neighborhood downtown. That's why Jake got the gun. The police say Jake hired a hit man through someone he met at Fresh New Start.”

“That's ridiculous,” Josie said loyally. But she wondered if it was. “Besides, Jake wouldn't be stupid enough to give the hired killers his own gun.”

But he was stupid enough to talk to the cops without a lawyer. He was stupid enough to believe he wasn't a serious suspect if he wasn't Mirandized.

There was more silence while Alyce toyed with a pickled tomato.

“There's more, isn't there?” Josie said.

“Yes,” Alyce said. “A witness saw Jake with Halley in the corporate suite at the Bradcliffe Hotel. Plus, a room service waiter delivered coffee to the room. Jake signed the check. He says they were there for a business meeting.”

“But not law firm business,” Josie said.

That photo of Halley flashed in Josie's mind again. Halley was slender, confident, and beautiful. The perfect match for a man like Jake. A glamorous married mistress was safer than a skittish au pair.

“No,” Alyce said. “Jake wasn't there for the firm. But it was definitely business. He told me that. But no one believes him.”

Including me, Josie thought. But you don't like him, she reminded herself. Be fair. “Just because two businesspeople meet at a hotel doesn't mean they're having sex,” Josie said. “That's so twentieth century.”

“Right.” Alyce brightened. Her smile faded quickly. “But the witness heard them arguing. Halley supposedly said, ‘Your wife will find out anyway.'

“Jake said, ‘Not if you don't—' The witness didn't hear the rest because Jake unlocked the door and pushed Halley inside the suite.”

“Pushed how?” Josie asked. “Roughly, gently, playfully?”

“I don't know,” Alyce said.

“Who is this witness?”

“They didn't mention a name. We'll find out soon enough.”

“What does Jake say?” Josie asked.

“He says the conversation never took place.”

He's lying, Josie thought. A false witness would come up with a more complete story. Alyce looked stricken. She started stacking the bagels. She knew her husband was lying, too.

“Well, it's Jake's word against the witness's,” Josie said. “And you don't know how credible that person is.”

Alyce took a deep breath and said, “They also found Halley's scarves tied to the bedposts.”

“For decoration,” Josie said.

“And their DNA was in the hotel suite: Halley's and Jake's.”

“Didn't the hotel maid clean the room?” Josie said.

“She didn't have time. Jake and Halley were there the morning of the day she was—” Alyce stopped. The word “murdered” fairly shrieked at them, but neither one said it.

“What kind of DNA?” Josie asked.

“They didn't say,” Alyce said.

“Do you think it was DNA on a soda straw?”

“Jake doesn't use straws. He never drinks soda. They ordered coffee, remember?”

“Maybe the DNA was from the coffee cups.”

“Room service took the tray back downstairs,” Alyce said. “Everything was washed before the police got there.”

“They leave the room service trays in the halls for days when I stay at a hotel,” Josie said.

Alyce didn't even attempt a smile. She was building a wall with the sliced rye bread.

“Maybe they got the DNA off a cigarette butt,” Josie said. “Does Jake smoke?”

“No.”

“Did he cut himself accidentally? Have a nosebleed?”

“No.”

“Leave any hair?” Josie asked.

“Not that we know,” Alyce said.

There was a miserable silence, while they surveyed the wreckage of Joanie's deli tray. It looked like raccoons had attacked it.

Josie could think of only one other source of DNA. From the look on Alyce's face, she had the same thought. Jake might have left his DNA in a condom once before—in the wastebasket in the au pair's room.

“Is that all the police have?” Josie said.

“All?” Alyce started laughing as bitter tears ran down her cheeks. “All?” Then she was crying, and Josie could not comfort her.