Promissory Payback (7 page)

Jane checked the time code on the active video. It seemed that it had a fail-safe internal memory since it “woke up” with the correct time. Jane had no clue how to suspend a security video and she was fairly sure that Laura Abernathy didn't either. Rolling back the video, Jane found Joe's arrival with the flowers. It took another seventeen minutes before the video froze. Time enough for Joe to get inside, maybe schmooze with his aunt and then disappear into the alcove while she arranged the flowers in her Waterford vase. It wasn't outside the scope of possibility since Joe owned the same security system. S.O.S. was his oldest client, according to Joe. “She never paid me for the install,” he grumbled to Jane. Could Joe have possibly been involved with the installation of the system, thereby allowing him a better understanding of how it worked and the various functions it was capable of doing? Whatever the truth, it was too much of a coincidence that Joe's arrival and the suspension of the security system occurred simultaneously. It led Jane to wonder about other possible
videos she'd like to view—videos showing passengers departing on Colorado Mountain Airlines planes.

By the end of that day, Jane had seen and heard all she needed to create the possible scenario that led to Carolyn Handel's death. While all the pieces weren't in place, there were enough to formulate her next move. She waited until the following morning to implement it.

Jane arrived at Laura Abernathy's small home at 9:30 AM, parking her Mustang two blocks away. She made a quick call on her cell phone, feigning urgency in her voice that she hoped would be believed. A nervous edge crept up as she squashed her cigarette on the pavement and walked up the modest pathway to Laura's front door. A large
G
hung to the right of the door. “God,” maybe? She rung the bell and Laura answered, still dressed in her nightgown and robe. The woman looked even older than when she first met her on Monday morning. What was it with the way Laura Abernathy seemed to age?

“Detective!” Laura said with a warm smile. “Did I forget a scheduled meeting with you?”

“No, ma'am. I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing. May I come in?”

Laura's eyes twinkled, clearly adoring the attention. “Well, of course!”

It wasn't just hot in Laura's house. It was “grandma hot”—the kind of stuffy heat one associates with one's grandmother when her circulation starts to slow to a crawl. “What does the ‘G' stand for outside?” Jane asked.

“Gratitude!” Laura replied, joining her hands in a prayer pose. “We must have an attitude of gratitude, detective!”

“Of course,” Jane nodded. “Carolyn didn't have that, did she?”

“She sure didn't!” Laura's mouth turned up quickly. “I'm sorry the place is a bit of a mess. I just haven't felt up to cleaning lately.”

The place wasn't just a mess; it looked like somebody turned the tiny house on its end and shook it hard. Newspapers piled up on the kitchen table next to junk mail next to dirty plates. It was as if Laura had given up trying to create order in her existence. As Jane walked around the tiny, suffocatingly hot living room, the imprint of energy was that of a woman who wasn't all there mentally and physically. It drastically contradicted Laura's carefully coiffed appearance at the crime scene, with her pretty pink suit and matching purse. “Please have a seat, Detective.”

“Could I use your phone? My cell phone battery gave out.”

“Oh, of course.” Laura pointed to a tiny desk brimming with even more paperwork. “I'll make us some peach tea.” She scurried into the kitchen.

Jane crossed to the desk. She had to remove several piles of papers to find the phone. Next to the phone was the caller ID box. Jane skimmed through the numbers and names, most of which were doctor's offices. She checked well past the previous Sunday before replacing the papers back over the phone. Jane craned her neck to make sure
Laura was still occupied in the kitchen before examining several of the pages. They were from various doctors, reminding her of her next appointment. Returning to Laura's kitchen table, Jane took a seat, after removing several blankets from the chair.

“Would you like a little honey?” Laura asked, taking an inordinate amount of time to put the tea bags in the cups and pour the water.

“Sure. Are you feeling okay, Laura?” Jane's voice was atypically quiet and subdued.

“Oh, not really,” she said, absently stirring the honey into the cups. “I'm so cold lately.”

Jane checked the time on the kitchen clock. She needed to speed this up. “Let me help you with those.” Jane got up and carried the cups of tea to the table, removing more debris from another chair so Laura could sit down.

“You are the sweetest policewoman I've ever met.”

Jane took a sip of tea. “Yeah, I hear that a lot. So, Laura, remember when you told me about that inspirational program you watched on the Family Channel? The one you didn't want to miss when Carolyn called you? ‘Sharing of the Heart?'”

Laura looked at Jane, her smile still present. “Yes. My program.”

“People traveling the world finding what needs to be fixed or changed and making that happen?”

Laura sipped the tea. “Yes. That's right. Oh, did I put too much honey in your tea?”

“I wanted to watch the show,” Jane continued, staying on track. “So, I checked to see when it was going to be on again. But I found out that no such show ever aired on the Family Channel. No such show by that name aired
anywhere
, in fact.”

Laura scratched her head. “Perhaps it was a video. Yes, that's what it was. I get these things confused sometimes.”

“If it was a video, it wouldn't have prevented you from going to Carolyn's house that night when she called and left that urgent message.”

Laura took another sip of tea and smoothed the drape of her robe. “I don't understand what you mean,” she said quietly.

Jane gently pushed the teacup aside and leaned forward. “Carolyn never called you last Sunday night. I checked your caller ID box just now. It holds fifty numbers and goes back two weeks and she's not on there once.”

“Really? How strange.”

“I got a preliminary report yesterday regarding the fingerprints we found in Carolyn's bedroom.”

“Oh?”

“They all belong to you.”

“Well, of course, I'm at her house a lot—”

“They are all over the lipstick container. The one you used to write ‘Karma is a Bitch!' on Carolyn's nude back?”

Laura's smile melted into a disapproving frown. “Well, I see where this is going. I thought you were my friend, Detective. How fickle people are these days!” Her countenance became suddenly hard. “You do things for them all your life and all you want in return is a little ‘thank you,' or gratitude. You have to have an attitude of gratitude, you know?” Her twinkly eyes stared at Jane with a steely glare. “You're no different than ...”

“Than Carolyn?”

“Yes. What? Are the two of you secret friends?” That cattiness that Jane detected when she first interviewed Laura reemerged.

The doorbell rang in quick successive tones.
Right on time
, Jane thought.

“Good Lord! Who is
this
?” Laura grumbled as she struggled to get up and cross to the front door. Jane got up and walked quietly to the opposite side of the door, away from view.

The doorbell was still ringing as Laura opened the door. Joe Harvey stood there looking frantic.

“
Laura
! You and I need to talk!” Joe asked Laura, his voice pitched up several octaves.

“What's wrong, Joe?” Laura asked, confused by his appearance.

“I got a call about fifteen minutes ago from a desk sergeant at Denver Police saying that you had been over there yesterday, talking about Carolyn's case and sounding erratic—”

“No, I couldn't have been there yesterday. I was at the—”

“
Laura
,” Joe interrupted. “Remember how we talked at length about the importance of
staying on message
?”

“Yes, yes, of course ...” Laura looked at the floor, seemingly detached. “I'm so confused, Joe. First she shows up and then you . . .”

Jane slowly opened the door wider. “That was me who called you, Joe. I sucked a few heavy hits off my cigarette to make my voice sound good and raspy. Come on in.” As frenzied as Joe had just been, he suddenly became oddly calm and reserved. “Have a seat,” Jane suggested to both of them, motioning toward the cluttered kitchen table.

Jane pulled up a chair and sat six feet across from them. Distance was always a good idea in situations like this. “'Staying on message,' huh? You actually believed Laura could do that, Joe? You've known her longer than I have, but I figured that one out from day one.
Finally
, Laura was getting the attention she'd always wanted, instead of that selfish bitch Carolyn!” Jane looked at Laura. “When you constantly put yourself in a subservient position, it's kinda nice to get a taste of what the queen enjoys. Am I right?” Joe reached over and cupped his palm over Laura's shaking hand. “So, of course, you're gonna talk . . . and talk ... and talk.”

Jane directed her next remark to Joe. “I know that bothered you. When I was going over my time with you in your office, I noticed how you tensed up when I told you that Laura mentioned about the three investors putting in fifty thousand each. That was not for public consumption.” They remained silent. “I'll take that as a ‘yes.'” Joe
stared at Jane, his upper lip quivering. “But, Joe, you actually gave yourself away before that. You told me you'd ‘heard' about how your aunt was found and how ‘graphic' it was. But then you stated that you and Laura had not talked in two months. So,
she
didn't tell you about Carolyn. And Homicide didn't disclose it to the media. The only way you knew what Aunt Carolyn looked like in her last hour on this earth is because you were there.”

“I showed you my airline ticket,” Joe declared, still unmoved.

“Yeah, that was a very nice cover operation you pulled off. You needed investor number one, Jacque Wilde, to help you with that.” Joe's mouth tensed. “And she was
all
about making that travel happen!
You
bring people together to invest and make money and
she
makes travel happen,
especially
when she doesn't get her money back.” Jane leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But
I
can make video happen. I made video happen at Aunt Carolyn's house and I made it happen yesterday at DIA when I asked to see security footage of passengers getting on that five o' clock Colorado Mountain Airlines flight last Sunday. All I had to do was use the
T
word—
Terrorist
—and I could watch all the video I wanted as soon as I wanted to see it. And I got to see it all, Joe.
All of it
. I got to see you heading onto the tarmac for your five o' clock flight. I also got to see Travis Wilde, Jacque's kid. You know, the one who got fucked out of his heart operation and who needed one hundred grand to pay for it? Yeah. I got to see Travis in his distinctive CMA jacket walk out the door right after you and then, about five minutes later, all the way back down the hallway you can see him returning through another doorway pushing a covered cart. Unfortunately, there are no distinct camera angles showing
what happened on the tarmac. But, my theory is, he got into an elevator alone with that cart and when those doors opened, two people got off the elevator. One left DIA and headed to Cherry Creek and the other, went back to that five o'clock flight to make sure the ‘baggage weight issue' he created earlier would detain the flight as long as possible. I guess that's what Jacque meant when she told me what CMA lacks in stature, it more than makes up for in customer service.”

“You've got quite the creative little mind there, Detective.”

“Yeah, well, stay with me. If you think that's good, you'll love the rest of the story.” Jane cleared her throat. “So, I'm not sure who picked you up at the curb. But I'm betting it was Laura. The two of you needed to show up together at Aunt Carolyn's front door. Of course, we don't have the video of that because you made sure when you delivered the flowers earlier in the day to put her video transmit on ‘sleep' mode. I'm not sure how you explained your reappearance to Carolyn. Certainly, she must have been a little suspicious to see you twice in three hours, being that you weren't cozy pals. But I'm sure you flattered her and encouraged everyone to have a drink. And while one of you kept her occupied, the other one slipped the Demerol into her glass.” Laura turned away, looking off to the side in a distant stare. Jane studied her. “Really?
You
did it, Laura?” Laura's mouth twisted into a nearly undetectable smirk. Jane turned to Joe. “How many pills did Raymond Honeycutt have to cheek? Four? Six? You think he adequately weighed the pleasure he would get from knowing he helped kill Carolyn versus the stark realization that going off his pain meds cold turkey would send him into an addictive hell? Oh, what am I talking
about? He was dedicated to the cause! A good solider in your vengeful army.

“But then, there's another soldier in your party. A
real
soldier. I'm not sure when or how Charley P. Hall showed up to the execution, but it was fairly soon after you two did. Oh, he
really
wanted to be there. He'd lain in bed too many nights in that trailer trash dump of his daughter's, dreaming of ways to eviscerate Carolyn Handel.
But,
he couldn't show up with you. That much I presumed. He hates Carolyn more than he hates the Vietcong, and you needed to get Carolyn whacked out on Demerol first so she wouldn't fight him or call the cops.”