Dead Broke (Lana Denae Mystery Series Book 1) (21 page)

“Yes,” Sophia nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve worked up a psychiatric profile of your latest suspect, Mr. Holloway.”

“And?”
Who had told the lady about Holloway, anyway?

“It’s pretty simple really,” Sophia said. “Devin Holloway is rich and powerful; a man used to getting his way. With his wife gone, he feels weak and vulnerable, almost useless. He needs to invent a crisis or situation that he can inject himself into in order to feel he’s in control; so he can feel like a man. This case, with its identity theft and murder, is exactly the type of thing such a guy would do.”

“Lot’s of men are left by their wives—they don’t become serial killers,” Lana argued, her voice suggesting this was nothing but a waste of time.

“You wanted my opinion,” Sophia said.

“No,” Lana said. “Actually, I didn’t.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Interesting,” Jamie said.

“What’s that?” Lana asked. It was barely past eight in the morning and after a long day the day before, with too many surprises, she was approaching critical mass of digesting new information. She didn’t want to have to figure out anything, especially when he could just as easily tell her.

Jamie pointed to the computer screen. “Apparently, Devin Holloway knew Mrs. Wymer.”

“Roselyn Wymer? Our victim?”

Jamie nodded.

Damien frowned and shook his head. “A pertinent little fact he somehow forgot to disclose?”

“What makes you say he knew her?” a hesitant Lana asked.

Jamie again pointed to the computer. “Class picture here of Dexter McCarty Middle School in Gresham, where Holloway attended ninth grade. Guess who the teacher is, or was?”

“Roselyn Wymer,” Lana said.

“Why would he not mention that?” Damien asked.

“Only one reason I can think of,” Jamie said. “He didn’t want us to connect him to her.”

Lana wasn’t convinced. “It’s possible he didn’t remember her,” she pointed out. “It’s been more than thirty years and he was just a young teenager.”

“You still making excuses for this guy?” Jamie asked with a hint of criticism.

“I’m just saying it’s possible.”

The precinct was filled with silence for a moment. Then, out of the blue Damien said, “Mrs. Grant.”

Lana gave him a curious frown. “Who’s that?”

“My ninth grade teacher.”

Following his partner’s lead, Jamie said, “Mr. Peterson.”

Ray, silently listening as usual, chimed in with, “Miss Roberts.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t remember your ninth grade teacher’s name,” Jamie said to Lana.

“I can,” she answered. “Mr. Williams. But none of us are as old as Holloway. He’s had more time to forget.”

“Forty-seven is not that old,” Ray said with a bit of amusement.

“When are you going to stop defending this guy and see him for what he is?” Jamie demanded.

When Lana still hesitated, Damien took a different approach. “So you think you’re going to forget Mr. Williams in the next twelve years?”

Probably not,” she said. “But I noticed that not one of us mentioned our teacher’s first names.”

The puzzled looks they wore said she had their attention.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Jamie asked. “In school, you’re taught to address your teachers as Mr. and Mrs.”

Lana nodded. “Exactly. Do any of you even know your teacher’s first name?”

The three of them gave her a blank look.

“My point is,” Lana said, “Holloway might not have known Roselyn Wymer was his teacher.” She turned to Jamie. “If we had a murder victim named Ralph Peterson, would you automatically assume it was your ninth grade teacher?”

“Probably not,” Jamie admitted. “But then, my ninth grade teacher lives on the other side of the country.”

Ignoring his remark, Lana said, “I don’t think any of us would make that assumption.”

Before anyone could offer a comment, a voice from behind them said, “Hate to interrupt your little party...”

Four heads turned to see Captain Hayden standing just inside the doorway.

With a glance toward Lana, he said, “I need to see you in my office.”

Lana nodded curtly. “Be there in a minute, sir,” she said as the captain disappeared down the hall.

A moment later, she found him seated in his office waiting patiently. He didn’t speak until she had closed the door.

“Where are we on this investigation? I’ve got the mayor asking me when we plan to solve these murders,” he explained.

“Elections coming up?” Lana asked, unable to disguise her cynical tone.

Captain Hayden rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to respond to that,” he said. “Anything new to report?”

Lana nodded. “There is, sir. Quite a lot, actually.”

Quickly, she filled him in on where they stood, telling him of Eric’s false claims of a sister, Holloway’s possible involvement, and ending with the news she’d just learned that Roselyn Wymer had been Holloway’s teacher clear back in the ninth grade. “I doubt that has any relevance,” she said.

“You haven’t brought him in for questioning?”

“No, sir. Not yet.” She paused before adding, “I’m still finding it hard to believe that Holloway is guilty.”

The Captain narrowed his eyes. “Why do you insist on giving the guy concessions? It doesn’t appear he deserves any.”

“Sir, it’s just,” Lana paused. “I still have doubts that Holloway is our guy.”

“So you’re cutting him some slack because you’re not convinced of his guilt?”

“I like to think of it as giving him the benefit of the doubt, sir. It’s what I would want were I in his shoes.”

“I understand. But what if it turns out he is our guy? What if he’s the killer? Are you going to be able to put aside this empathy you’ve established?”

“Sir, once I have proof that anyone is the murderer, including if that is Holloway, I’ll have no qualms about doing my job. My concern is, while we’re searching for that proof—proof that may never materialize—are we destroying a man’s good name along with the reputation of his company; just for the sake of ‘doing our job’?”

When the captain didn’t answer, she continued. “I was taught to trust my instincts but not totally rely on them. Usually, that’s not hard to do; I let my instincts lead me to the evidence. In this case however, I have conflicting instincts—and, so far, evidence has been hard to come by. Which instinct do I trust?”

“Neither,” came the quick response. “But follow the trail of both. See where they go. Trails usually lead somewhere.”

“And if I’m wrong?” she asked. “What about the repercussions?”

“What repercussions?”

Lana shrugged. “Not sure there will be any but there could be with some of the people involved being influential members of our community.”

“We don’t coddle people just because of their status in life,” said the Captain. “Just do your job; investigate, follow the trail, and don’t worry about the fallout.”

“That’s what I figured you’d say.”

“And I expect a full report daily.”

“Will do, sir,” Lana replied as she turned to leave. “And I apologize for not keeping you up to date. Things the last couple of days have become a little scattered and hectic.”

The Captain nodded. “I understand,” was all he said.

Leaving the man’s office, Lana took a quick detour by her own office and then went straight to see the D.A. After catching him up on the latest developments of her case, she asked, “So what would you advise? I know this is a lot of speculation. Do I have enough to arrest Holloway? Enough for you to prosecute him?”

“Sure,” said the D.A. “Just bring me some evidence too.”

“That’s just it,” Lana said. “There is no credible evidence that Devin Holloway did anything. Only Eric’s word. Problem is, there is no evidence to the contrary either. However, there is ample evidence suggesting Eric Schmidt is guilty.”

“Of identity theft, sure,” the DA said. “And perhaps lying about Holloway and having a sister. But not murder. As he himself said during his questioning, it’s only circumstantial.”

Lana sighed loudly. “A
lot
of circumstantial evidence. At what point does a preponderance of circumstantial evidence become sufficient for proof?”

“It doesn’t. Not according to the law.”

“I know,” Lana said. “And yet, that’s all I have. I can’t prove much of anything.”

“So, go find some proof.”

Lana nodded. “I will.”

“Just remember, you may find Eric’s claim about Holloway might actually be true,” the D.A. said as she was leaving. “You can’t rule that out.”

“Not yet, maybe,” Lana said as she was leaving.

With a renewed energy, having talked to two of the men, whose opinions she valued, Detective Denae once more drove the familiar route to Cascade Global Investments. She didn’t plan on arresting Holloway—not exactly. But the D.A. had said to find some proof and, although she still had reservations regarding his guilt, she meant to do just that.

Parking where she’d become accustomed, Lana walked into the building, skirted the receptionist, and stole down the hall to Holloway’s office.

“Back again?” the man asked when she knocked on his partially opened door.

Lana offered him a grim but friendly smile, nodding slightly. “Need to ask you a few more questions.”

“Okay,” Holloway said, pushing his computer screen to the side. Sliding his chair away from the desk, he leaned back and asked, “What do you need to know?”

“Actually, what I need is for you to come down to the precinct with me.”

“Are you arresting me?” Holloway suddenly seemed more concerned.

“At this time, no; you’re not being arrested. We just have a few questions and would like to ask them in a more official setting.”

“Meaning an interrogation?”

“I wouldn’t call it an interrogation,” Lana said. “And you’re welcome to have an attorney present, if you’d like.”

“Sounds like I’m being arrested without actually calling it an arrest,” Holloway said. “What if I refuse to go?”

Lana sighed. She’d hoped he would be more cooperative and accommodating. And she had definitely wanted to avoid the question he’d just asked. “Mr. Holloway,” she said. “I’m trying to conduct this investigation in a professional manner and extend all the courtesy I’m allowed, respecting you and your position, both in the community and at Cascade Global. I’d like to avoid any embarrassment to you or your company, which could hurt your business and tarnish your company’s good name. However, the moment I arrest you, this all becomes public knowledge. I can’t prevent the media from plastering your picture everywhere and running with their version of the story. I do need you to come down to the precinct but for all parties concerned I sincerely hope it’s voluntary.”

Without a word, Holloway slowly stood and, grabbing his keys off the desk, looked at Lana expectantly.

“Wise decision,” said the detective.

Thirty minutes later, they were seated in the interrogation room.

“Thanks for coming in,” Lana said.

Holloway raised his eyebrows. “I was under the impression I didn’t have a choice.”

Lana smiled faintly but didn’t offer an answer. “Mr. Holloway, do you recall a Junior High teacher by the name of Mrs. Wymer?”

“Yes, my ninth grade teacher. She was– wait a minute! Isn’t that the name of the woman who was murdered?”

“Yes.”

Holloway nodded. “Of course it is, or you wouldn’t be asking. I assume it’s the same lady—is my teacher the one who was killed?”

“Yes,” Lana said, thinking if the news hadn’t been a surprise to him he’d done a remarkable job of pretending.

“And you think I did it? I haven’t seen the lady in years!”

Without responding, Lana continued, changing her line of questioning. “Did you personally know any of the investors who were murdered?”

“Not personally,” Holloway said. “Of course, I had met each of them but only briefly. When they came in to set up their accounts.”

Nodding, Lana said, “Did you know or have any prior knowledge or contact with Eric Schmidt?”

Before Holloway could answer, the door burst open. A man dressed in a black silk suit, holding a leather briefcase strode into the room. “This interrogation is over,” he announced in a commanding voice.

“And you are?” Lana said, not recognizing the guy.

“Daniel Brumbaugh,” the man in black said. “Mr. Holloway’s attorney.”

“I called and left him a message on the way over,” Holloway explained in an almost apologetic tone.

The attorney waved him off. “She’s not entitled to any explanation.”

“Mr. Brumbaugh,” Lana said. “I just have a few quick questions for your client.”

“I’m sure you do but Mr. Holloway will not be answering them. If you would like to conduct a legal interview, that can be arranged by notifying his legal counsel, which in case you missed it, is me.”

Lana bristled at the barely veiled accusation. “Sir, no one is conducting anything illegal. Mr. Holloway came in of his own free will. He was advised of his right to have an attorney present. Since he never mentioned you would be joining us, we proceeded with the questioning.”

“What you proceeded with is a fishing expedition—and that is far from legal. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that according to the law, you can’t bring people in here and question them in hopes of discovering a crime.”

“Sir, I–”

The attorney continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “My client, who is also a victim in these recent murders, has aided your investigation, freely provided all requested information on his company investors and this is the thanks he gets? You treating him like a suspect?”

“Sir, I’m not–”

The lawyer cut her off again. “This,” he gestured to the room, “is treating him like a suspect.”

“Mr. Holloway has not been arrested,” Lana said.

“And unless you do so, you are not questioning him. Are you planning to arrest him?”

“No, we–”

“Do you suspect my client of having committed a crime?”

“At this point, we’re not sure,” Lana said. “That’s why–”

“Not what I asked,” said the attorney. “So, the answer is, no. Do you have reasonable cause to suspect my client is about to commit a crime?”