First Murder (30 page)

And Karen Hewes.

“Is Karen on any medication?” Ray asked.

“I don’t know. Why?” Lakisha had a puzzled look on her face that mirrored Tony’s. She wondered why Ray wanted to know. Tony wondered why he was just now asking.

“Just thinking about how freaked out she is. Is that normal for her?”

“Why all the questions about Karen, Rayford?” Lakisha squinted at him, her mystery writer’s instincts on high alert.

“Just curious.”

“Uh-huh.”

Ray flashed a quick disarming smile. “You have a ride? Can we drop you somewhere?”

“I’ve got my car. Are you stopping by Tia and Barry’s? Scott still won’t go back to the house. I think he’s going to sell it.”

“Can’t, babe. Urgent police business.”

Tony was grateful for Ray’s lie. He had no desire to eat hot dish and mill around listening to stories about the dead woman all afternoon. Tony was satisfied that they’d gotten far enough into these people’s lives. He nodded to Lakisha and headed for the car, giving them a minute alone together.

“Good one, boss. Urgent police business.”

Ray, behind the wheel, gave Tony a quick knowing glance. “That’s what it is.”

Tony realized they were heading into the heart of Highland Park, toward the Hewes’ house, not toward headquarters. Ray was up to something so Tony settled back into the seat waiting to find out just what.

“Teaching moment coming up.”

“You have a hunch.” Tony phrased it as a statement, not a question.

“I do indeed.”

“You want to snoop around in the Hewes’ house.”

“It’s a crime scene. We have access now and don’t need to bother any judges about a warrant.” Ray had the half-smile going. Tony was a fine pupil and was going to be a top notch detective someday.

“What are we looking for, Obi-Wan?” Tony tented his hands as if in prayer and bowed to Ray. They pulled to the curb in front of the house. Yellow plastic tape fluttered in the wind, advertising the tragedy that had occurred inside the day before. Ray explained his hunch while they walked to the side door.

“The woman bothers me.”

Tony looked over his shoulder. “The husband bothers me. What if he shows up?”

Ray shared a word with the uniformed officer sitting just inside the kitchen while he signed in and looked over the log of people who had visited the crime scene. He was pleased to note that Jonny Kumpula was the senior evidence tech on the case.

Tony wasn’t happy when Ray led him through the master bedroom. The sheets and blankets on the bed were twisted and stained. They looked diseased—crusted and oily. Tony could smell the flu germs mixed with Mentholatum fumes. He could feel them invading his body, waiting to strike, to lay him as low as they had Gary Hewes.

He found Ray examining prescription vials in the medicine cabinet and making notes. He was ignoring Gary’s prescriptions.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked when Ray dumped one vial out on the countertop and counted the pills.

“Math.”

“Math?” Tony watched Ray jot down dates and other numbers next to the pharmaceutical names.

“This might mean something.” Ray held up an amber vial and shook it. Empty.

“What is it?”

“I have no idea, but I know someone who will.”

“Quite a cocktail, Ray. These from the Hewes woman?” Kumpula didn’t miss much.

Ray nodded. “In her medicine cabinet. Do you know what they’re for?”

“From the same doctor?” Kumpula had fired up a computer and was clicking through several medical websites.

“All from the same clinic. Stilnox? Zoloft? Ducene? I’ve heard of Zoloft but I don’t have a clue what it’s for.”

“Same clinic? Same doctor? Then they meant for them to all be used. She’s being treated for a couple of things at least. Let me read here.” Ray stepped back next to Tony.

“What gave you the idea she might be on medication?” Tony was mildly pissed that his partner hadn’t discussed this before. “And when did it click?”

“In the church, actually. She’s not there, supposedly her closest friend’s funeral and she’s strapped to a bed speaking in tongues. So I started thinking about it.”

“You think she snapped?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. She sure didn’t want Stuckey getting a word in. That’s the impression I got.”

Tony thought back to the day before, to the shooting. Karen Hewes had been screaming the whole time they were in the kitchen. The only time Stuckey got a word in was when he covered her mouth.

“Wish we had a tape,” Tony mused. Ray smiled and started to say something when Kumpula interrupted.

Kumpula looked up at Ray, frowning. “These drugs…in this combo? Your patient is suffering from depression, probably combined with insomnia and anxiety attacks. Probably not bi-polar, but still screwed up pretty bad.”

“Could Deanna’s death have triggered it?” Tony asked. He knew a little about depression. His parents’ death had hit him hard.

“Probably not situational. What about the dates?”

Ray checked his notes. “She’s been on them for a while. Long before the murder.”

Kumpula rechecked the computer screen. “This cocktail could be for panic attacks as well as depression. Does the Hewes’ woman drink a lot?” Ray shrugged. He didn’t know about day to day but he did recall that she hit it pretty hard when they were off on one of the trips.

Kumpula added, “She might have been something of a recluse too, afraid to leave the house.”

“That might be the husband’s doing.”

“I’m reading there can be obsession issues, too. Excessive worry and stress can trigger panic attacks and irrational behavior.”

“Any sexual triggers?” Tony asked, thinking back to the videotape.

“Not that I can see here. We can call one of the Pharm consultants if you want to take it that far.”

Ray shook his head. He wasn’t ready to do that yet. Truth was, he had what he guessed he needed so far. He turned to Kumpula for a summation.

“So what we have is?”

Kumpula wheeled away from the desk and crossed his arms, looking up at Ray. “We have a woman suffering from depression that has problems with panic attacks and impulse control. She’s fairly fucked up, Ray.”

“The shooting couldn’t have helped,” Tony offered.

“I’d be freaked if someone’s head was blown apart right behind me, but that’s not your biggest worry with this gal.”

“What is?” Tony asked.

“Suicide.”

“What’s got you so down, partner?”

Tony and Ray shared a booth at The Red Door. It was mid-shift so the place was quiet. Ray had taken only one sip of his scotch and was staring at the glass, frowning. The few patrons there that knew Tony started the congratulations and kidding as soon as they entered, but now Tony shrugged and told his friends to knock it off. Inside, though, he felt good that the case was being considered closed.

“Are you satisfied?”

“About the case? About Stuckey being the murderer? I guess so.” Tony took a pull from his beer bottle. “You’re not?”

“Not completely. Over at the lab a little bit ago you said you wished you had a tape.”

“Of the scene in the kitchen with Stuckey and Karen? Yeah, I do. It was chaos, Ray. Chaos.”

Ray reached into his jacket and took out a small electronic device. It was his digital recorder, the same one he used the morning they worked the murder scene in Deanna Fredrickson’s kitchen. Tony’s eyes widened, asking with a look if that was what was on the recorder.

“What do you think you’ll learn from it?” Ray waved the recorder in front of him, the half-smile working now.

“Is this one of your teaching moments?”

Sue Ellen burst in the door. Before it closed, startling bright November afternoon sunlight made Tony squint. She spied him after her eyes became accustomed to the bar’s dim interior and made her way to the back of the room.

“No bodyguard?” Tony asked while she pecked her uncle’s cheek and shrugged out of her coat.

“Nope. DEA spotted Garcia way down in old Mexico two days ago. It looks like he’s settling in so we called off the detail. I’m a free woman now.”

Ray smiled at the couple sitting close across from him. They looked good together.

“And two of the LKs in custody are starting to see if they can out-snitch each other. The trial might be postponed and we’re getting some really good stuff.” The bartender delivered a round to the table. Sue Ellen took a healthy sip of white wine.

“Boof says hi,” Tony told her. Ray looked puzzled.

“I’m done for the day. Let’s go see him.” Visiting the part time dog was
not
what she had in mind.

“Suze, put on your DA hat for a minute, enjoy your wine. I want to lay something out and see if we can make a case.”

“Sure.”

“What case?” Tony decided to have a serious talk with his partner about springing things like this on him.

“It was this tape got me thinking.” Ray started the recording, turned down low so Karen’s shrieking wouldn’t carry far in the bar. Tony closed his eyes and listened. He remembered the look of fear in her eyes and the panic and confusion in Sean Stuckey’s. The knife clattered to the floor. Stuckey got his hand over her mouth, struggled to get a word in. He said he wanted them to take him in. Karen screamed he had come for money, the motive that they had all searched for.

The sound of the gunshot was so loud several people at the bar looked over, surprised.

“Go back, like fifteen seconds.” Tony still had his eyes closed so he didn’t see his partner smile. He heard it again right before the rifle barked.

“
Money?”

“Stuckey didn’t go over there for money.”

“Nope.” Ray took a long pull on his drink.

“He was asking us a question, asking her a question.”

“Yes he was.”

“So why was he there?”

“She called him.”

“What are you two talking about?” Sue Ellen knew little about the case.

“I went back and watched the clip again, too.”

“What clip?” Sue Ellen asked.

“The porn clip. Quit interrupting.” Tony was focused on what Ray had to say.

“Deanna Fredrickson never recognized Stuckey. She was off screen, right? Stuckey’s back was to her the whole time and then he ran off to the right. She came in from the left. She had no clue what he looked like. She never recognized him as one of her son’s roommates and she probably saw him several times.”

“And he probably didn’t recognize her either,” Tony said.

“But Karen did.”

Tony took a pull on his beer. “Uh huh, and I think Karen wanted to go for another ride.”

“She made the money story up.”

“He had no idea what she was talking about, and he had plenty of dough from the guy in LA.”

“So why did she kill her?” Ray asked, finally voicing his suspicion.

“That’s where it gets murky.”

“STOP!” Sue Ellen held her hands up. “Thank you. You’re saying this Karen Hewes woman killed the Fredrickson woman?” Both Ray and Tony nodded. “Okay, I’ve got my DA hat on. Just lay it out in order, okay?”

It took two more rounds of drinks, a bathroom break, and three bowls of peanuts for Ray and Tony to lay it all out. They described the scene at the strip club, how Lakisha had identified Stuckey as being in the bar. They told her about the aborted video shoot and how they thought it was Dee Fredrickson that had burst in. They told her about Karen boldly lying about knowing Sean Stuckey and about David Hong’s having given her his number. She wasn’t sure she needed to know how big Stuckey’s dick was.

Sue Ellen questioned them about details, coldly separating fact from speculation. She wanted to know how Stuckey ended up being roommates with the son. Neither of them had a good answer. It was fate or coincidence or both. That got a frown.

At the end, she pressed them for a good reason for Karen to have killed her friend Deanna. It was Tony who came up with the best theory, the one that fit with everything they knew.

“Karen recognized Stuckey at the house. She approached him, maybe on the street or at school—she came on to him. She wanted to have some fun. Maybe they even did it, maybe more than once. She wanted Deanna to help her with cover stories for Gary. Deanna knew about the video, the history, maybe even the attraction and she didn’t approve any more now than she did back in LA. Karen freaked out, they fought, and she killed Deanna.”

Ray picked up the thread from there. “Now she has to cover her tracks. She wiped the knife handle with a silk blouse, thus the smeared prints. She wiped the mug in the sink, but forgot to wash it out. Deanna drank OJ, not coffee that morning. The last problem is Stuckey.”

Tony took over. The more they talked it through the more sense it made. “Now it gets complicated for her. Stuckey’s phone gets run over so she loses the way to contact him. She’s panicked because we’re onto him and has to call Hong to get the new number. She fakes the intruder in the yard to get her bedridden and insanely protective husband all worked up and somehow lures the kid over that morning.”

“Why that morning? Because she knew we were coming to talk to her.”

“And the husband’s getting better.”

“She set him up.” Each of them in the booth wore dark, scowling frowns. Sue Ellen’s was the grimmest of all. She took a deep breath and finally looked up.

“I buy it,” she said flatly. “I buy the whole thing. Just one eensy problem, fellas.” She paused for a beat.

“You’ll
never
be able to prove it.

“L
akisha?”

Karen Hewes opened the front door wide, surprised to see her friend standing there. Lakisha, bundled in a parka and floppy wool hat, shivered in the doorway. December had been unkind since its arrival. Not only were the frequent icy snows a great nuisance, the blistering cold waves seemed downright cruel so early in the season.

“I was in St.Paul and I haven’t seen you since…”

“Come in. Get in here, girl.” Karen, smiling, wrapped her arms around Lakisha and hugged her close. “It’s freezing out there.”

Lakisha let Karen help her with her coat and hat and followed her into the kitchen. She lagged behind briefly, taking in the room, the doorway, imagining the bullet’s trajectory. In the kitchen she found herself tuning out Karen’s words while she scanned the cabinets and floor for bloodstains or other remnants from the shooting. Silly woman, she silently berated herself, of course there’s nothing to see.