Burning Justice (4 page)

S
tar Island was
in a chain of exotic man-made islands, built out of a series of synthetic reefs and lots of sand that sat in the middle of the Persian Gulf. The islands were a separate country owned by some billionaire and were out of United States jurisdiction—a nice place to vacation, but a
perfect
place to run off to after you’ve murdered your wife.

The tickets were for a flight the following week and purchased at six a.m.—after the boat fire. If this didn’t persuade Hale, I didn’t know what would. I had Artemis print off the appropriate evidence and headed down to the police station.

When I announced my intentions to the desk clerk, she told me that Sergeant Hale was busy. Would I like to talk to Detective Royce? Royce had seemed nicer than Hale that morning, so maybe it was a lucky break for me.

The desk clerk made a call and I waited in the lobby, clutching the print-outs in my hand as I listened to the trill of phones and the clacking of keys.

Finally, the door opened and Tony Royce appeared. He looked more tired than he had that morning, a shadow of stubble already forming on his chin as if he’d been roused early by the police call and hadn’t had a chance to shave.

He stuck out his hand. “Callie, right?”

“Everyone calls me Cal.”

“Okay, Cal, what can I do for you?

I held up the papers. “I did a little research this morning, since I still had Evangeline’s money. I just felt like it was the least I could do.”

“And …” His brow furrowed.

I was afraid he was going to lecture me like Hale would have, but I plunged in anyway. I shoved the papers toward him and he took them. “It looks like Evangeline’s husband upped her insurance policy just a couple of days ago. He stands to get money from the boat insurance and he’s booked two tickets to Star Island.”

Tony’s eyes flicked to the paper, then he glanced behind him and pulled me over to the corner. “Hale seems to think this was an accident, but I have to admit, the more I think about it, the more suspicious it seems. He’s talking to the husband right now and seems to be buying his story of being away for the night.”

“Really?” I studied Tony’s face, picking my words carefully. “Do you think Hale is trying to throw the case?”

Tony shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. But Hale is close to retirement and maybe he doesn’t want to work a big murder case.”

“Do you think this evidence will change his mind?”

Tony fanned the papers out in his hand and studied them. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I mean it’s not really much to go on. People do change the amounts on their life insurance policies … though the timing is suspicious.”

“And when you combine that with the purchase of the tickets, don’t you think it bears looking into?”

“It does. I’ll see what I can do. I don’t know if Hale will like that this information came from you. I sense that the two of you don’t get along.”

I pressed my lips together, not wanting to give out too much of my personal business. Apparently, Tony already knew about my parents, but he didn’t need to know I was investigating my Mom's death on the side. The less people that knew that, the better off I was. “Yeah, I guess you could say we have a little bit of history.”

A flicker of something in Tony’s gray eyes made me feel uneasy. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Did he know something about my parents, or was it sympathy? Maybe he just felt bad for me because I had a history with Hale. Whatever it was, it unnerved me and I took a step backward.

My curiosity got the better of me and I couldn’t help but ask, “So what is the husband saying? What’s your read on him?”

Tony shrugged. “He says he and the wife had a fight last night. He went to their cabin upstate. Alone.”

“How convenient. This is getting more and more sticky.”

“Yeah, but there’s still nothing concrete. No eyewitnesses, no physical evidence.” His brow creased as he studied the papers I’d given him. “Though there is something very interesting here.”

“What’s that?”

“If he bought these tickets after his wife was already dead, who was the other ticket for?”

T
ony’s question
reminded me of the affair Evangeline had suspected her husband was having with their domestic helper. Where was the domestic? I hadn’t seen anyone being interviewed at the house, but I supposed she could have been inside.

I hadn’t mentioned the suspected affair to Hale and I didn’t tell Tony, either. I wanted to keep that to myself until I checked it out and was sure of it. I still thought Evangeline had been holding something back, and it wasn’t a good idea to blab unsubstantiated suspicions to the police.

I needed to talk to the domestic and the husband … and the best way to catch them both was to pay a visit to their house. Since I wasn’t on the case officially, and I could hardly tell the husband his now-dead wife had tried to hire me, I’d have to think up another way to talk to them. Luckily, I had a trick up my sleeve that I’d learned from my neighbor, Lexy. Thanks to her, I knew just how to get access to talk to almost any suspect as if by magic.

I raced back home, but this time I took the elevator to the top floor, passing my own condo and heading toward Lexy’s. The elevator doors whooshed open and the smell of sugar, cinnamon and spices hit me. My mind drifted back to when I was eight years old, baking Christmas cookies with my mother. I could almost taste the sugary frosting she’d let me glob onto the cookie and feel the crunch of the overabundance of sprinkles I would dump on top.

Her smiling face swirled up from my memory and a pang of emptiness stabbed me. I missed my mother. I had precious little information about her death, but somewhere inside I knew that my father had somehow been involved and I was pissed at him because of it.

I pushed those feelings down as I walked toward Lexy’s door. This wasn’t the time to think about my parents’ ‘case’.

As she opened the door and saw me, Lexy's bright smile widened. Her silver hair was curled in a bun on top of her head, her full cheeks flushed from baking.

“Cal! What a nice surprise!” She pulled me inside, then poked her nose back out into the hallway and took an exaggerated sniff. “Don’t tell me you could smell the cookies all the way down at your place?”

I laughed. “No. Actually, I was coming to see if I could snag a batch of them.”

Lexy’s eyes widened. “Oh? You have a suspect you need to interrogate?”

I’d learned the trick of fabricating the perfect excuse to get suspects to let you into their house from Lexy. She’d used the same trick many times back in the day when she used to sleuth with her grandmother. I had to admit the simple trick of posing as if you were bringing a gift of baked goods, usually under the pretext of coming to relay your condolences, was ingenious. No one turned down desserts, and it was a great way to get them to open up and talk to you.

I filled her in on everything that had happened that morning. Her eyes grew wider as I described the burned boat, and the evidence Artemis had found.

“Yes, I should say you definitely need to talk to her husband right away. And that domestic, I bet she’s got something to do with this.” Lexy’s green eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Right, so I figured the best way to talk to them both was to bring over some cookies and pretend like I’d heard about the fire and wanted to extend condolences.”

“I’ll just pack up some of these cookies in one of my white bakery boxes.” She indicated stacks of flat white cardboard piled in the corner. “My great-granddaughter keeps me supplied with them. I think it makes a much nicer presentation when you put the goodies in a box.”

“That would be perfect.” I leaned against her counter, my mouth watering as I eyed the perfectly round light brown cookies that sat on the little wire cooling racks.

“Help yourself.” Lexy smiled as she expertly flicked open the cardboard, folding the corners so that it took on a three-dimensional shape.

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed the nearest cookie and bit in, letting the sugar, pumpkin and spices coat my tongue with sweet warmth. “Thanks for doing this.” I mumbled the words around the cookie as I cupped my hand under my chin to catch any stray crumbs

“I’m happy to.” Lexy glanced up at me. “Under one condition.”

I swallowed the cookie hard. I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what the condition was going to be. “Condition?”

“Yes. I want to go with you.” Lexy spread a doily in the bottom of the box and got to work with a spatula, arranging cookies in expert circular patterns on top of the doily.

“I don’t know about that. It could be dangerous. The man could be a murderer.” I’d never brought Lexy, or anyone for that matter, on one of my cases before. But I’d seen the way her eyes sparkled when I talked shop, and the other times she’d given me cookies like this, she’d had a look of longing on her face.

I guess I’d known it was only a matter of time before she asked to come along. I could see she really wanted to go and part of me wanted to take her along. She was a good friend and I figured she could use some excitement. Not to mention that she still had good instincts. Maybe she could help.

Lexy waved her hand. “Pshaw. I’ve dealt with my share of murderers. I can handle myself. Besides, you need me.”

“I do?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Sure. What excuse are you going to use?”

“I was just planning to stretch the truth and say I was a friend of Evangeline’s, and I’d heard about what happened and was coming to pay my respects.”

She screwed up her face. “And you think he’ll fall for that? He just murdered his wife, so he’s going to be very suspicious of everything now and he’s bound to wonder why he never met you.”

“You have a point and that’s exactly why I don’t want to bring you.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he won’t do anything to us. Not in broad daylight with the police watching over him. But my presence will give you a distinct advantage in getting in the door in the first place. You don’t want to waste your one cookie-bringing opportunity do you?”

She was right—I didn’t want to waste my one opportunity. I wouldn’t be able to approach him more than once without him becoming suspicious.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m just going to use a similar tactic as you, but I have a trick up my sleeve that I never told you about. A way of making the pretext seem more realistic.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You do? What is it?”

“You don’t need to know. Just leave it up to me and I’ll get us in.” Lexy snapped the box shut and expertly tied pink and white striped twine around it. Holding the box by the twine on the top, she gestured for me to proceed toward the door. “Well, are we going or not?”

“I guess so…”

Lexy opened the door and pushed me through. “Don’t worry, dear, nobody ever turns away a grandma carrying baked goods.”

W
e made
the drive to Lake Street crammed into my PTV, the bakery box balanced on Lexy’s lap. As we came up the street, she craned her neck to see the damage in the backyard.

“Oh, my, there’s not much left of it,” she said.

We pulled into the circular driveway of the large house and stopped under the portico in front of the door. A water fountain flanked by tall lilyies and maroon and white mums splashed to the right. The lush green grass in the side garden had been trampled by the police that morning. The damage hadn’t stopped there. They’d also mangled the edging and crushed a bed of pansies and black-eyed Susans.

Lexy eyed the trodden landscaping with disapproval. “Look what the police did here. It should be a crime, I tell you.”

Then she turned and bounded enthusiastically up the granite steps. Before I could change my mind about the whole visit, she was knocking on the large oak door.

She was practically bubbling with excitement. I wished I felt the same way, but I mostly felt nervous. We could be confronting a killer … what if he figured out who I really was?

The door opened and a man of medium build looked out at us. He wore a casual shirt and slate gray slacks. A tie hung half-loosened at his neck. No suit jacket. I pictured it thrown over the back of the couch. He didn’t look like a grieving husband.

“Can I help you?” he asked gruffly.

Lexy held up the bakery box. “I’m very sorry to disturb you, but I was a friend of Evangeline’s. I heard the news and I’ve come to offer my condolences.”

While his gaze was flicking from the box to Lexy to me, she gently pushed him aside and made her way into the expansive, marble-tiled foyer.

Her gesture had forced him to open the door wider and I could see the house was lavishly decorated. Across from the foyer, a large opening with columns on either side led into the living room, whose other wall boasted floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake.

Mahogany plant stands with Boston ferns on top of them flanked either side of the doorway. To our right, just inside the door, was a tiger maple veneer table with an inlay design. A pile of mail was stacked neatly on its edge.

Lexy’s eyes darted around the foyer as if she was scoping it out for a future robbery. The back of her hand flew up to her forehead and she staggered a little, shoving the bakery box into the man’s hand.

“Oh, dear,” she said as she bumped against the table, brushing against the pile of mail. Letters, magazines and appointment reminder post cards fell to the floor, scattering around the base of the table.

“Sorry!” She bent down to pick up the mess. “I spent the morning baking and I’m a little out of sorts. Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

The man set the box down on the table. “Let me help you.”

Lexy waved him off.

“No, no. I’m old, not incapacitated!” She said sharply as she continued to gather the mail at an incredibly slow pace.

When she was done, she stood up and placed the pile neatly on the table. “There, now. Sorry about that.” She smiled brightly at the man, then looked pointedly at the bakery box. “These are fresh-baked this morning and they go lovely with coffee.”

The man’s brow creased. “Right. And who did you say you were, exactly?”

Lexy shoved her hand out. “I’m Lexy Baker-Perillo. I was a friend of your wife, Evangeline.” She cast her eyes down appropriately.

Another man appeared in the hallway. His facial features were strikingly similar to the man who had opened the door, which I'd assumed was Nathan Barrows. This man was the same height and build. Brothers? The new guy was wearing sweatpants and a white T-shirt with an unbuttoned red and black plaid flannel thrown over it. He had red-rimmed eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.

“You knew my Vangie?” he asked, answering my unspoken question as to which one of them was Nathan.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry.
You’re
her husband?” Lexy cast a suspicious glance at the other guy.

“Yes. I’m Nathan Barrows.” The man gestured towards the other guy. “This is my brother, David. How did you say you knew Vangie? I don’t remember her mentioning you …”

“Oh, she probably wouldn’t have,” Lexy said. “We met in the waiting room at the dentist a couple times. You know, Dr. Richfeld.”

Nathan nodded. Apparently, Evangeline did go to Dr. Richfeld, but how in the world did Lexy know that? David looked at me. “Are you a friend of Vangie’s, too?”

“Oh, no,” Lexy cut in. I was starting to wonder if she was going to let me do any of the talking. “This is my granddaughter. I asked her to give me a ride over. I heard the news on the police scanner this morning and … well … you know, it’s proper etiquette to come and express your condolences like this, even though it seems to have fallen by the wayside with the younger generation.”

Lexy shot a pointed look at the two men as if daring them to prove how uncouth the younger generation had become and not invite her in, then she tossed her head and made her way into the living room, sneaking a wink in my direction.

The men followed her in with me trailing behind. The living room was a plush affair, with overstuffed white sofas and chairs. Expensive artwork in goldleaf-decorated frames lined the walls on the side. The long wall that overlooked the lake was all windows with breezy, white gauze curtains hung at either end so as not to get in the way of the view. Sunlight spilled into the room, lighting the jewel tones of the oriental carpet. The reflection of the sun bouncing off the lake danced on the ceiling.

Nathan sat heavily in one of the chairs with his back to the lake as if he didn't want to look at the spot where his wife had died. Maybe because it made him feel guilty. He looked up at his brother who was holding the bakery box.

“Where are my manners, I should get some coffee and a tray for the cookies.” He half pushed himself up from the chair but David shot out his hand to stop him.

“I’ll do that. You sit.” David turned toward the kitchen.

Lexy looked at Nathan. “You don’t have hired help to do this for you?”

Nathan’s eyes clouded. “We do, but she hasn’t come in today. With everything that’s going on, I hadn’t even thought about Jenny—she’s our domestic. She must be terribly upset about what happened. I guess that’s why she didn’t come in.”

“Oh? Was she very close to your wife?” I asked innocently. About time Lexy let me get a question in.

Nathan nodded. “Yes, they were very close. She was more than hired help to my wife. Evangeline didn’t have many friends and, well, I guess she just took to Jenny. They did all that girl stuff together—facials, hairdressers, spas and what not. Vangie usually paid. Jenny didn't have any money.”

That’s funny. Evangeline didn’t mention that to me. I studied Nathan for evidences of lying, but it was hard to tell. He sure was putting on a good act. Of course, claiming his wife and the domestic were good friends would be the perfect cover up to his affair, and if Evangeline didn’t have many friends, who would be around to call his bluff?

“You guys always treated Jenny like family. She was very close to both of you.” Robert, who had come in balancing a cut glass tray loaded with Lexy’s cookies in one hand and a silver tray with a coffee pot and cups in the other, slid the trays onto the coffee table.

Nathan’s eyes clouded as he looked up at David. “It was mostly Jenny and Evangeline. I was always so busy at work which is why I was glad Vangie had someone at home.”

David shot a sharp glance at Nathan. I thought I saw a ‘look’ pass between them, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe David was wondering why Nathan was lying. He wouldn’t have known Nathan would try to downplay his relationship with Jenny so as to not bring attention to their affair. Did David know about it? I made a mental note about questioning David at a later date.

We got busy adding cream and sugar to our coffee. It smelled divine, much better than what Mr. Caffeine usually doled out in my office. I took a sip and let the slightly bitter liquid make its way into my bloodstream. Heaven. I couldn’t help but glance out the window at the charred boat.

“Such a tragic accident,” I said. “I am truly sorry for your loss. What do you think she was doing out there in the middle of the night?”

Nathan glanced over his shoulder at the lake. When he turned back, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

He took off his glasses and pinched his nose, adding a little sniff for dramatic flair. He was putting on a good show. His voice even cracked a little when he said, “That’s the thing—I have no idea why she was on the boat at night. It’s all so terrible. We’d had a big fight. I took off to our cabin in the mountains and I wasn’t even here. If I’d been here, I could have saved her.”

David reached over and squeezed his brother's shoulder. “Now, Nathan, this is not your fault.”

Nathan nodded and blew his nose.

David got up and walked over to a credenza on the side wall. He picked up a crystal decanter and poured some amber liquid into a glass. Whiskey. He brought the glass back to Nathan. "Drink this. It will help calm your nerves."

Nathan's hand shook as he took the glass from his brother. He raised it to his lips, taking a tiny sip. His face pinched and he shivered. "Can't stand that stuff, but it does take the edge off."

Lexy took a noisy slurp of coffee. “Evangeline was a lovely person. She’ll be missed by many. And this is especially tragic since you two were going to go on that tropical vacation.”

Nathan’s head shot up, his eyes narrowed. “Vacation? What are you talking about?”

Lexy plastered a confused look on her face. “Oh? Weren’t you going on a vacation? I thought she mentioned that to me, but I’m just a silly old lady and sometimes I get things mixed up.”

“You must have gotten mixed up with someone else. We weren’t planning a vacation. Hadn’t been on one in years. But now I wish we had—we’ll never be able to go on vacation together again.”