Director's Cut (30 page)

“It looks like something done by high school or early college age people.”

“Building on that,” a television reporter asked, “
why
would anyone do this?”

Tess hesitated before answering. The police had found a camera and transmitter, but they had asked us not to mention the find. It was best to keep some things secret for a time. “We won't truly know why until those responsible are caught.”

“Mayor Glenn,” the radio reporter began, “there's been two murders at Catherine Anderson's home in the Oak Crest Knolls area. You were at the home after each murder. Why is that?”

I tried not to frown. “Catherine Anderson is my cousin. I gave her a ride home. But let's remember, this press conference is about the dangerous vandalism in our city.”

“Do you think these murders will affect your campaign?” the television man asked.

“No, I don't. The tragedies have drawn my attention from campaigning, but I see no reason why my campaign would be adversely affected.”

“Is that why the deputy mayor is in charge of this investigation?” someone asked. It was Vincent Branch and his words were bitter.

Tess elbowed in front of me. “Let me answer that, Mr. Branch. The mayor is fully apprised of all elements of the problem and investigation. She has been instrumental in putting an end to the crime.”

I had a sudden urge to buy Tess lunch. My first impression was that she was playing the party line well, showing a unified front before the media, but something in her voice rang with sincerity. She looked at Branch and I expected one of her patented withering stares, but her expression was soft. “We are aware, Mr. Branch, that Doug Turner is one of the victims and that he is one of your prized employees.”

“He's a friend, not just an employee.” Branch looked in pain. “When the responsible people are found, what charges will be brought against them?”

I took that one. “That will be up to the district attorney. I plan to ask for a very aggressive prosecution.”

“Injured parties also will be able to bring suit of injury and damages,” Tess added.

More questions were asked, but soon petered out. We fielded each one, then thanked them all. As the gathering began to break up, I called out to Vincent Branch and motioned him over. He frowned, lowered his head, and started in our direction.

“What are you doing?” Tess asked.

“Stay with me,” I said, avoiding her question.

Branch approached and gave a polite nod. “You wanted to see me, Mayor?”

I studied him for a moment. He looked drawn and worn and near empty. “Are we okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is there a problem between us?”

He lowered his eyes for a moment. “Look, Mayor. I probably could have asked that question a little better, I know that. I just think it's odd that someone else seems in charge of the problem.”

“The police are in charge,” I said. “What's the real problem?”

He worked his lips before speaking. “I spoke to the doctors this morning. Doug has no family to speak of. His mother died earlier this year.”

“I remember. She was up in Oregon, right?”

“Yes. Doug was married for a while but that didn't last. I don't know why. He seemed to enjoy the lone life. Because no family is available the doctors have been a little more forthcoming with me.”

“I visited yesterday,” I said. “There was no change.”

“No change today either,” Branch said. “It doesn't look good.” He seemed to shrink before my eyes.

“You two are close?”

“Yeah, we've been buds since college. He was my chief competition for editor at the
Register.
He pulled out of the running. When I asked him why, he said he'd rather write stories than assign them. I think he gave it up for me.”

“That sounds like Doug,” I said. “We knocked heads more times than I can number. I'm sure I aged him more than time itself.”

Branch looked at me. “He would never tell you this. It goes against a reporter's instinct. If he were here, he'd beat me to keep from saying it, but he is one of your biggest supporters. When you chose to run for congress, he was thrilled. His words were, ‘It's about time.' He was right.”

“Thank you,” I said. “What can I do to help?”

“Catch these guys. Catch them soon and parade them in front of city hall. Hang them by their thumbs if the law will allow it.”

I smiled. “It won't, but you do have my promise—our promise, that we will do everything we can to put an end to it.”

“I can't ask for more,” he stated, then added, “I'm sorry if I came off too brusque.”

“I can overlook it.”

Chapter 29

I
had just returned to the office when Judson West walked in.

“Need some air?” he asked.

I said I did and we walked from the building, making use of the front doors instead of the private entry at the back. Anyone approaching city hall would walk by a long rectangular fountain and reflecting pool. The burbling fountain, a warm October sun, clear blue sky, and a fresh breeze made me glad to be out of the building.

“You've had a rough week.” He reached in his suit coat pocket and removed a small plastic bag. Cashews. He ripped open the top and offered me one. It would have been rude to have declined.

“I've had rough weeks before.”

“And that makes it easier?”

I chuckled. “Not even close. Just because I've had a migraine before doesn't mean the next one will hurt any less. It only means that I know that it will end sometime.”

“I didn't know you suffered from migraines.” He poured a couple of cashews in his palm.

“I don't. It was an illustration. However, I have worked with a few migraines.”

“Haven't we all? I don't suppose you've heard from Catherine.”

“No. I called her mother in case she phoned.”

“That had to be difficult. I hate calls like that.”

“There are more enjoyable things.” He handed me the bag. I took it and fished out another cashew.

“I promised to keep you posted. I just left the autopsy of Andy Buchanan. He was killed by a .38 Glaser blue-tip just as we suspected. He also had defensive wounds on his arms. It looks like he took a couple of blows to the belly and jaw.”

“He was in a fight?”

“It looks that way. I went back to the house and reexamined the site. There are several places in the soft dirt that indicate a struggle. Since landscapers had been there several times over the last few weeks, I hadn't made the connection. Some tools they left behind were moved. Crime photos show that they were neatly stacked before.”

“Who would he be fighting? Not Catherine. You can't be serious.”

“No, not Catherine. Whoever he fought with had a good punch. Besides, when I examined her hands and tested for gunpowder residue, I didn't see any bruising. I would expect to see some evidence. Her dress didn't look like it had been through a struggle—despite the fake blood.”

“So you're taking her off your suspect list,” I said. “She never should have been on it.”

“She may still be involved somehow. She has skipped town.” He reached for the cashews. I pulled them out of his reach.

“You call my cousin a criminal, then want my cashews?”

“Your cashews? I brought those and shared them out of the goodness of my heart. You're stealing food from a cop.”

“I'm not stealing. It's . . . eminent domain,” I said. “Seriously, she's the victim, not the criminal.”

“I will agree that she didn't pull the trigger, but there are other ways to be involved. Both murders are closely tied to her. I take nothing for granted and dismiss nothing.”

“Whatever happened to a person being innocent until proven guilty?”

“That's court thinking. In my world, everyone's guilty until I know they're innocent.” He snatched the bag out of my hands. “Eminent domain. Clever, but possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“Now that you know the bullets are the same, what do you conclude?”

“There's still ballistic tests to do. The DRUGFIRE search came up negative on the first bullet. What I really need is the gun. The bullets are only half the equation.”

There was another matter on my mind, and I weighed the wisdom of bringing it up. There was already so much to occupy my mind, so many things demanding West's attention, I didn't want to add to the burden. It was best to let it go. I didn't.

“I hear you've been offered a position in Denver,” I said without preamble.

“Really. I didn't know it was public information. You have spies following me?”

“Not this week.” The comment was light, the opposite of how I felt. “A little birdie told me.”

“Did the little birdie have a badge?”

“Maybe. I don't want to get anyone on your bad side.” I looked at the concrete beneath my feet. There was nothing to see, but it was easier than looking at West.

“I don't have a bad side. I'm patient and pure through and through. Did Chief Webb tell you?”

“The chief doesn't tell me much of anything. He didn't let your secret slip.”

“Then it must have been Detective Scott. He's the only other cop you've dealt with lately.”

“I see why they made you a detective. It was Scott. When were you going to tell me?”

“There's nothing to tell. A friend from San Diego moved to the Denver PD. He learned they were looking to recruit a detective or two who could also train the young guys. It's a pretty good deal.”

“Sounds like you're considering it. I think I have a right to know.” I sounded more testy than I intended. I was feeling more hurt than I expected.

“You do?” West smiled. “Did we get married recently and I missed it? I think I would remember something like that.”

“You know what I mean,” I countered.

“I don't have a clue what you mean. I've made no decision. Truth is, I've barely had time to think about it. I talked it over with Chief Webb and a couple of other detectives. Wisdom can be found in the opinions of others. I read that in a fortune cookie.”

“I meant I have a right to know because we're friends.”

“Okay, Maddy, what's the problem? You're put out because someone has shown interest in me, and I didn't immediately send you an email?”

What am I put out over?
It was a fair question but that didn't mean I had to like it.

“I just would hate to see you leave.”

“There are many detectives who can do what I do. Or did you mean something else? I was under the impression that our relationship would never be more than professional and friendly.”

I had no idea where to go from there. West had tried to ratchet up our relationship several times, but it never felt right. “I'm meddling and I shouldn't be. Denver is a long way away.”

“How far is Washington, D.C.? If I remember my geography right, it's a lot farther to the East Coast than to Colorado.”

He had me. I watched people move in and out of the building. City hall always had something going on. It was then that I saw a familiar form burst from the front doors. He stopped and searched the grounds. Floyd saw me and scampered my way. Adrenaline began to flow.

I stood, waiting for Floyd to close the distance. He stopped a foot away and looked as if he had run a mile instead of fifty feet. “What's wrong?”

“It's . . . it's . . .” He fell silent and looked at West, then me.

“Start talking, Floyd,” I said.

“It's . . . Catherine.”

“What about her? Did she call?”

West stood.

“No, no,” Floyd said. “She's in your office. Right now. In your office. I've been looking all over for you. I called your cell phone and everything.”

My cell phone was in my purse, which was still in a drawer in my office.

I started moving.

I walked at a deliberate pace. Seeing the mayor and a police detective running through city hall might cause concern among some of the employees, so I moved at a quick but steady pace. West was to my right, Floyd to my left. On the way, Floyd filled us in.

“I was sitting at my desk when the phone rang. It was Catherine. She was calling on her cell phone. She said she and Mr. Zambonelli were in the parking lot and wanted to talk to you. You were gone. I wasn't sure what to do, so I told them how to come in the back way and unlocked the door for them. I put them in your office and went looking for you.”

“You done good, kid,” West said. “You handled it perfectly. Let's just hope they're still there.”

“Why wouldn't they be?” I snapped.

West gave me a disappointed look but didn't answer. We walked into the small lobby that leads to the executive area of city hall. Fritzy was at her place. She pressed the button that opened the small wood gate in the pony wall that separated the public area from the office area where city council members, their staff, and support personnel work.

“I see Floyd found you,” Fritzy said, as we passed through the gate. “While you're here, Mayor, I have a question for you.”

“Not now, Fritzy.” We pressed on and entered Floyd's office. “Close the door, Floyd.” He did. I went to my own door, which was shut as it should be. I turned the doorknob and stepped in. West was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

Sitting in front of my desk were Catherine and Franco. Franco wore the same clothing he wore on the night of the play. Catherine had changed. The clothing looked new. My guess was that she bought new threads.

Catherine stood. So did Franco.

“Hi, Maddy,” Catherine whispered.

“Hi? HI? You run off without a word and all you have to say is, ‘Hi'?”

“I know you're angry—”

“You don't know the half of it. Do you know the worry you've put us through? You're mother is beside herself.”