Amnesia (28 page)

“You have a good memory.” Jim walked over to the table, lifted the coffee pot and poured the cup sitting by his plate full of the hot black brew.

“I appreciate your meeting with me,” Griffin said. “I assume you know I’m representing Quinn Cortez.”

Jim pulled out a chair and sat. “And Annabelle Vanderley as well.”

Griffin nodded. “Yes, and Ms. Vanderley.”

“Those two are an odd combination, don’t you think? For her it has to be kind of like sleeping with the enemy.” Jim lifted his cup to his lips.

Griffin eyed him speculatively. “I wouldn’t put it that way. Not exactly.”

“Then there’s nothing personal between them?”

“I didn’t say that.” Griffin removed the cover from his plate and set it aside, then picked up his fork and sliced into his omelette. “Whether or not there’s anything of a personal nature taking place between Quinn and Annabelle is nobody’s business, but theirs, is it? As for my working for both of them—it’s a compromise. Since they contacted me practically
simultaneously, it was either say no to both of them or ask them to join forces.”

“I’m surprised they agreed. Especially Ms. Vanderley. She doesn’t seem the type who would be easily charmed by Cortez’s Latin charisma.”

“Why not? She’s a woman.”

Jim chuckled. “Shot you down, did she, Griff?”

“I’ll never tell.” Grinning, Griffin speared a slice of omelette and brought it to his mouth.

After removing the lid from his plate, Jim split open a biscuit, buttered it and then smeared it with blackberry jam. How the hell had Griffin remembered blackberry was his favorite? The guy had a mind like a steel trap. Back in their days at UT, he’d been one of those rare athletes who’d starred academically as well as in the sports arena. The big guy had graduated summa cum laude. Of course, Jim hadn’t done too badly himself, graduating cum laude. But on the field and in the classroom, Griffin Powell had been The Star. Funny thing was, Jim had never minded being a runner-up; after all, every other guy at UT had been, too.

The whole world knew why Jimmy Norton hadn’t turned pro. A running back with a couple of bum knees wasn’t worth two cents to a pro team, even if he was otherwise in top physical shape. But no one knew why Griffin Powell hadn’t gone on to pro-football stardom. The first time Jim had met up with Griffin again, a good eight years ago, he’d wanted to ask him what had happened to him. But a couple of subtle statements his old buddy made let him know right away that those mysterious ten years of Griffin’s life when he’d disappeared from the face of the earth was an off-limits subject.

The two men shared their meal, occasionally talking about sports, the Memphis night life, Elvis, and the cool March weather. When they finished their omelettes and both were on their third cup of coffee, Griffin turned to Jim and narrowed his gaze.

Serious talk now
, Jim thought.

“I’m not asking for any favors,” Griffin said. “And I certainly wouldn’t expect you to reveal any confidential information. It’s not my style to try to take advantage of an old friendship, so rest assured I’m not going to test your integrity.”

“That’s good because my integrity is about all I’ve got left and some people question whether I’ve still got that.”

Griffin nodded. “A nasty divorce, alimony and child support payments, a kid you see only when your ex says you can, a career going nowhere and just enough money to get by.”

“Humph.” Smiling, Jim shook his head. “What’d you do, run a check on me?” He threw up a hand in a forget-I-asked gesture. “Sure you did.”

“If you ever get tired of spinning your wheels with the Memphis PD, give me a call. The Powell Agency can always use a top-notch investigator.”

“Is that what you think I am?” It had been a long time since anyone had praised Jim in any way, on the job or in his personal life.

“I know that’s what you are.”

“You heard about my breakdown a few years ago, didn’t you? And the rumors about what some people think I did?”

Griffin nodded. “Yeah, I heard. We all have our breaking points. And what you did or didn’t do—” Griffin shrugged.

“I’ll keep the job offer in mind.”

“It’s an open-ended offer. No time limit.”

Something to think about
, Jim told himself. Of course accepting a job with Griffin’s PI agency would take him away from Memphis a lot and that meant taking him away from Kevin.

“Right now, this morning, what is it you want from me?” Jim asked.

After placing his empty cup on the table, Griffin turned all the way around in his chair and focused on Jim. “I want your opinion.”

Scrunching his face, Jim stared at Griffin inquisitively. “My opinion?”

“I know y’all will be questioning Quinn Cortez this morning about Kendall Wells’s murder. Right now, it seems the only person with any connection to both women was Cortez.”

“Yeah, it seems that way.”

“Do you think Cortez killed Lulu and Kendall?”

“Ah, that’s it, is it? You’ve already decided what you think, haven’t you? But you’re not a hundred percent sure you’re right. Are you going by instinct alone or do you have evidence to back up your opinion?”

“We aren’t exchanging confidences, remember? Not yet anyway.”

Jim flicked his tongue over his front teeth. “Okay. You want my opinion on Cortez, I’ll give it to you. He may be a womanizer and a shyster and under the right circumstances is probably capable of murder, but I don’t think he killed either woman. The way I see it, he just didn’t have a strong enough motive to kill Lulu, not even if she was carrying his baby. And what possible motive could he have had to kill his lawyer?”

“Thanks, Jim. I agree. I don’t think Cortez killed Lulu or Kendall, but I do think his relationship with both women is what got them killed.”

Uh-oh. A red warning light went off in Jim’s brain. “You know something we don’t know, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Withholding evidence is—”

“I’m working on a theory,” Griffin said. “If it pans out, I’ll inform Cortez and Annabelle first and then call you. In the meantime, do what you can to keep the DA and Director Danley from railroading Quinn.” When Jim gave Griffin a that’s-asking-for-a-favor look, Griffin chuckled. “Hey, if y’all arrest the wrong man, how’s it going to look to the press when we nail the real killer and prove Cortez innocent?”

* * *

Not in a million years had Quinn ever thought the day would come when he’d hire Judd Walker as his lawyer. If only a week ago someone had painted this peculiar scenario— the two of them sitting across the table from each other, sharing a pot of coffee and discussing Quinn’s legal problems—he would have laughed in their face. Actually, he’d have said that it would be a cold day in hell before he’d ever hire Walker to be his lawyer.

Undoubtedly, hell had frozen over. One thing he knew for sure, his life had turned into hell now that he was under suspicion for two murders.

“Let’s get one thing straight up front,” Walker said. “You and I don’t have to like each other for me to represent you and for me to do my very best for you.”

Quinn grinned. “That’s always my sentiments when I take on a new client.”

“There’s one difference, Cortez.”

Quinn cocked an inquisitive brow.

“You’ve probably represented more than one person you didn’t think was innocent, as most lawyers have. I’m not one of those lawyers. If I don’t believe in a client’s innocence, I don’t take the case.”

“Every person deserves the right to an attorney, even the guilty.”

“I agree. But I don’t have to be the lawyer to defend them.”

“You’re a man with scruples, high moral values and a trust fund from granddaddy moneybags.”

Not seeming at all offended by Quinn’s last comment, Walker laughed. “And here all this time I thought you didn’t like me because I was one of only a few opponents who ever beat your pants off in a court of law. But actually you hate me because I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and you weren’t.”

“Like you said, we don’t have to like each other. So,
what’s it going to be? Will you represent me or not? Am I innocent or guilty?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning Griffin Powell thinks you’re innocent and the man has unerring instinct.”

“It’s good to know that Powell believes I didn’t kill Lulu or Kendall. But what do you think?”

“I think you’re a very smart man and if you wanted to kill somebody, you’d do it in a way where no one would ever suspect you. Either you have no connection whatsoever to the two murders or you’re living a double life. Or maybe somebody’s setting you up.”

Quinn’s body instantly tensed at the thought that someone might be setting him up. Had someone killed three women in order to try to pin the rap on him? If so, who and why? “Powell told you about the third woman, didn’t he?”

“Joy Ellis? Yes, he told me. He also told me that he thinks there’s a possibility that he’ll find others. Other murdered women who were once your lovers. He’ll have to turn the information over to the police if they haven’t already acquired it from their own sources by that time. Since he’s representing Ms. Vanderley as well as you, all information he acquires will be shared by the two of you. Anyway, if Griffin discovers that there are other former lovers of yours who have been murdered, it may or may not work in your favor. The police may think you’ve killed all of them or they could start looking for another suspect, someone with a reason to want to frame you.”

“God, I hope there haven’t been any others.”

“We’ll face that problem if and when the time comes. For now, we need to concentrate on the two murders in which you are a suspect. Let’s go over every minute of your time from when you left here yesterday until you arrived at Kendall Wells’s house. Then I want you to tell me everything about your trip from Nashville to Memphis the night Lulu Vanderley was murdered.”

Quinn nodded. “I can give you details if you want them, but the bottom line is that I don’t have an alibi for the time when either murder occurred. I was on the road from Nashville to Memphis when Lulu was killed, but I can’t prove I didn’t arrive earlier than I said. The same thing for Kendall’s murder. I was driving from here to her house when she was murdered, but I could have gotten there earlier, killed her, left and then went back to make it look as if I was innocent.”

Walker frowned. “What I’m hearing, but you’re not saying, is that there’s a period of time you can’t account for in each instance. Want to tell me what you were doing each time?”

Quinn tensed. No, he didn’t want to tell anyone about his odd blackout spells, not even his new lawyer. Especially not his new lawyer. Appearing weak or vulnerable in any way before Judd Walker was the last thing Quinn wanted. Besides, admitting to having experienced strange sleepy spells that had compelled him to stop driving on both occasions, when he was on his way to Lulu’s and Kendall’s homes, wouldn’t help prove his innocence. On the contrary—if he couldn’t account for an hour or more of his time during which each murder occurred, it could actually make him look guilty.

But a client should be completely honest with his lawyer, otherwise if a secret came out later on, it could cause immeasurable harm to the case. But Quinn hadn’t been arrested and charged with a crime. Not yet. If that happened, there would be time enough to confess his secrets to Walker.

“He’s got to be the luckiest damn son of a bitch in the world.” Chad George stood outside the interview room and glared at the two men inside sitting side by side and talking quietly to each other.

“Why do you say that?” Jim knew full well Chad was referring to the fact that Quinn Cortez had—overnight—hired himself the best damn lawyer in the state of Tennessee.

“How did he pull that off, I wonder.” Chad huffed. “Rumor
is those two hate each other and have ever since they butted heads in court years ago and Cortez lost the case.”

“It took balls for Cortez to contact Judd Walker,” Jim said.

“Yeah, well, I hear the guy has a set of big brass ones.”

“Come on. We might as well get this over with. I think we’re wasting our time trying to pin this on Cortez when we don’t have any evidence.”

“We’ll find some. It’s out there somewhere.”

“And if it isn’t, then what? We’ll have wasted a lot of valuable time that we should have been using to track down the real killer.”

Chad focused his hard gaze on Jim. “What’s with you? Did Griffin Powell persuade you to go easy on Cortez? Is that it? Your old teammate, the former UT god, told you Cortez is innocent so naturally if Griffin Powell says it, then it has to be so.”

Jim took a deep breath. “Don’t push me too far, boy.”

Chad’s cheeks flushed. Without saying another word, he entered the interview room and introduced himself to Judd Walker. Jim followed a couple of minutes later and closed the door.

“This is my partner, Lieutenant Norton,” Chad introduced him to Walker.

“Is my client being charged with a crime?” Walker asked, forgoing any pleasantries.

“No,” Jim said.

“Then why are we here?” Walker looked right at Jim, completely ignoring Chad.

“We just need to ask him a few questions because of his involvement with Kendall Wells, both professionally and personally. And because Mr. Cortez is already connected to another murder that has certain similarities to Ms. Wells’s murder.”

“Mr. Cortez has no information that can help you with your investigation into the Kendall Wells murder,” Walker said.

Chad’s lips curved into a hint of a smile, as if he were amused by something only he knew. He zeroed in on Cortez. Their gazes clashed.

“Where were you yesterday evening between four and seven?” Chad asked.

“I was at the condo I’ve leased here in Memphis until a little after four,” Cortez said. “I phoned Kendall’s office and was told she’d left early to have drinks with someone and then was heading home. You can check with my assistant, Marcy Sims, about the time. I drove from my condo across town, made one stop—and no, I don’t think anyone can collaborate that—then I drove straight to Kendall’s. The police were already on the scene when I arrived.”