Stiff Penalty (A Mattie Winston Mystery) (17 page)

A
fter we left Hurley’s house and went back to the police station, Hurley walked me inside, sticking close to my backside, like a tick on a dog’s ass. Once we were safely within the station’s confines, I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Mattie, congratulations!” said Heidi, the day dispatcher. “I heard the good news!” She cast a wary eye around the room and then in a low voice added, “And congrats to you, too, Hurley.”

It seemed Richmond was right; everyone knew about me and Hurley.

As we entered into the back area behind the security door, Hurley said, “We should try to fit you with a Kevlar vest.”

I looked at him like he’d said we needed to go buy the Brooklyn Bridge. “You’re kidding, right?” I eyed my chest dubiously.

“No, I’m not. It’s not a guarantee of safety, but it’s a move in the right direction.”

“Steve’s right,” said Richmond, who had walked up behind us and apparently overheard.

I was about to protest, but Richmond grabbed my arm and hauled me into the office he and Hurley now shared.

The troopers had infiltrated the place, and it was obvious no one was very happy about it. Though most of the cops knew one another and had often shared a drink, a story, or a bust, you never would have guessed it from the palpable wall of tension I felt. Hurley’s desk was occupied by a trooper whose name tag said SKINNER. He looked to be in his late forties, close to Richmond’s age, and he was a little shorter than me, balding, and leaning toward the pudgy side.

“Good morning,” Skinner greeted us. “I’ll be out of your way in just a sec. I need to finish up some paperwork.”

“Take your time,” Richmond said, and he sounded like he meant it, even though I knew it had to aggravate him to be displaced this way. Richmond walked over to a wall cabinet, opened it, and took out a Kevlar vest that looked big enough to fit two policemen. “This is my old vest,” he said. “Try it on.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, eyeing the thing. “It’s huge.”

“Yeah, well, so was I.”

“By the way, you look great, Bob,” Hurley tossed out.

“Thanks. I’ve been working hard at it.”

He handed me the vest, which felt like it weighed a ton. I nearly dislocated my shoulder trying to put it on. Then I nearly cried when I saw how well it fit, at least the top part of it. There was plenty of room in the bottom of it—though with time that would obviously change—but across my bust it fit just fine. It smelled like a gym locker room.

“This looks ridiculous,” I said, taking the vest off and tossing it in the corner. “That’s not happening.”

Hurley bit back a smile. “It does look a little ridiculous,” he said. “But it’s the best we have for now. They don’t make body armor for pregnant women.”

“Then you guys are just going to have to guard me better.”

Hurley and Richmond both sighed. I think they knew they had lost the battle. Richmond waved the white flag by saying, “Skinner here is in charge of the investigation into the guy who shot you.” He turned to Skinner then and said, “Got anything new you can share with us?”

Skinner shook his head, but he gave me a funny look that made me think he did have something, just not something he was willing to share at the moment. He cleverly changed the subject before anyone could ask anything else. “What have you guys got going on this morning? The place is packed, and everyone is all abuzz about something.”

“Yeah, the chief has an announcement to make,” Richmond said. He glanced at his watch. “In fact, we need to head to the break room now because he’s due to talk in two minutes.”

We headed that way, leaving Skinner behind at Hurley’s desk. Despite the fact that the break room was large, people were packed in like sardines. Both on- and off-duty cops had come in, and there was a lot of muttering and murmuring going on. Over in the far corner I saw Alison Miller, camera slung around her neck as usual, taking notes. She saw me looking at her and gave me a little finger wave, which I reluctantly returned. Despite her new, friendlier demeanor, I still wasn’t sure I could trust her.

Chief Hanson came into the room precisely at eight-thirty. Right behind him was a woman carrying a video camera. Silence fell over the room faster than Felix Baumgartner fell to earth, and as I looked around at the others, I saw that everyone was focused on the woman who had entered with Chief Hanson. It was hard not to stare; she was glaringly, frighteningly beautiful, with fine features, porcelain skin, a cascade of thick, dark red hair, eyes as blue as an October sky, and a tall, hourglass figure that would look perfect on a pinup calendar. She showed off that figure with a pair of tight-fitting black slacks, a peacock-blue tailored blouse that complemented both her hair and her eyes, and matching blue pumps. Her makeup was subtle but there, and it looked like it had been done by a professional. I was instantly, unreasonably, and insanely envious. Of course, the fact that my ankles had morphed into cankles—a fact that wouldn’t bother me quite so much in another couple of months because I wouldn’t be able to see them—might have had something to do with it.

“Good morning,” Chief Hanson said, smiling at the room. “I know you are all busy and have things to do and places to be, so I’ll make this as short as I can. To begin with, I’d like to announce that Detective Bob Richmond has come out of semiretirement and has rejoined our ranks on a full-time basis for now. He’ll be assisting Detective Hurley with all death-related investigations as well as assisting the vice squad. Please welcome Bob back into our family.”

There was a general murmur of comments, and a couple of guys slapped Richmond on the back in a friendly gesture.

After a few seconds of this, Hanson continued. “On the down side, I am sad to report that Detective Larry Johnson is leaving us to move to California. We appreciate your many years of service here with the Sorenson PD, Larry, and wish you all the best.”

There was a general chorus of good wishes and a few slaps on the back for Larry, who was being forced to move to California so he could be near his kids. His ex-wife had married some rich fellow from the Silicon Valley and moved out there a month ago.

The chief waited for the murmur to die down before he continued. “I’m also happy to announce that Officer Junior Feller has been promoted to the position of detective as of this week, and he will be taking over the vice cases from Larry, with assistance as needed from Detectives Hurley and Richmond. Congratulations, Junior!”

The congratulatory murmurs in the room were louder with this announcement, and Junior got a couple of playful shoulder punches instead of slaps.

“We are actively seeking to hire on two new officers,” Chief Hanson said, “and I have several interested candidates, including two new graduates and a transfer from Platteville. I hope to have the new folks in place within the month. Until they are on board, anyone wanting to work overtime shifts can see me.”

This announcement was met with mixed reactions.

“And finally,” the chief said, speaking a little louder to be heard over the side conversations going on in the room, “I’m happy to announce that today we will be launching a new program. We have received a grant and been approved as one of six beta sites for a new audiovisual evidentiary process. Basically this means that for the next six months we will have a full-time videographer on staff who will be accompanying the detectives to all major crime scenes so that we can film the scene, the evidence collection, and any off-site interviews that are done. Our videographer will be teaching all staff members how to operate and use the cameras to ensure high-quality videos that will be suitable for evidentiary use, as well as how to narrate when necessary as you film. This will start with the detectives and our evidence technician, Jonas, and gradually work down to all the officers. This is good news on several fronts. First, it means less paperwork for you guys because you can do many of your reports on camera rather than having to type them out.”

This news was met with a mixed bag of reactions that ranged from excited and happy to wary. No one liked typing up reports, but I suspect the idea of performing in front of a camera made some folks nervous, me included.

“The other reason this new addition is good news for us is that it eliminates some of our current issues with evidence collection and our cooperative efforts with the ME’s office. By videotaping our processes, we can skirt many of the problems we faced with needing to maintain professional oversight between the two agencies in order to ensure the integrity of our evidence.” He looked directly at me as he said this, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he knew about me and Hurley, or simply because he was mentioning the office I worked for.

Chief Hanson turned then and nodded to the gorgeous woman behind him, who stepped up and waved at everyone. “I’d like to introduce all of you to Charlotte Finnegan, our new audiovisual technician.”

This time the reaction was much more positive, although a few of the guys looked dumbstruck. When Charlotte smiled and said, “Please call me Charlie. I’m just one of the guys, and I’m really looking forward to working with all of you,” in a smoky voice with a hint of a Scottish lilt to it, I think every man in the room was momentarily mesmerized. I glanced over at Hurley, who was standing beside me, and was disheartened to see that he looked as awestruck as all the other men. Charlie was going to be a serious distraction.

The chief continued, though I’m not sure how much of what he said next was heard by any of the men in the room. “Charlie will be working full-time and will also be on call twenty-four seven for the first month or so. During that time she will be training the detectives and a select group of officers on filming tips and techniques, as well as the proper care and use of the cameras. Our short-term goal is to have all of you do your own filming at some point, though I’m hoping that down the road we’ll be allowed to create a full-time videographer position that will include on-call time. Receiving this grant is a huge boon for us in that the cameras and Charlie are being provided to us free of charge. We were the only small-town police force that was included in the grant, so please make the most of it and make Charlie feel welcome.”

Judging from the slobbering grins on most of the men’s faces, I didn’t think that last part would be a problem.

Chief Hanson concluded his speech with, “That’s it. Have a safe day, everyone.” He then made his way through the crowd over to me and Hurley. “Steve, I’ve arranged for Charlie to start her training with you since you’re not actively working a case right now. So if you could hook up with her once the rest of the room is done drooling over her, she’ll get you started. The two of you can spend the week together getting familiar with the goods.”

I gave Chief Hanson a major evil eye. No way did I want Charlotte Finnegan to get familiar with any of Hurley’s goods, or vice versa. My initial excitement over the AV project and the elimination of much of the conflict of interest issues gave way to a feeling of dread and fear. I looked at Charlie as she did a meet-and-greet with various others in the room, wondering how Hurley could possibly spend a week with the woman and not want to bed her. Hell, I almost wanted to bed her.

“No problem,” Hurley said to the chief. “I look forward to it.”

I just bet you do
, I thought, channeling my evil, snide side. I didn’t want to let Hurley be alone with lovely Charlie, but before I could think up a way to insert myself into his training, Bob Richmond tapped me on the shoulder.

“Blake Sutherland should be here any minute. Are you ready?”

I didn’t want to leave Hurley and Charlie alone together, but then I rationalized that it might do me good to get away from them. Blake’s interview would provide a much-needed distraction. Or so I told myself. In reality, trying to get my mind off Hurley was like to trying to get one’s mind off a painfully full bladder when the nearest bathroom is miles away.

A
lison managed to corner me and Richmond before we went in to talk with Blake Sutherland.

“Well, this new video program is certainly interesting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Richmond said.

“Detective Hurley seems excited about it,” Alison said with a sly look my way. “Best keep a close eye on him, Mattie.”

“I don’t think Mattie has anything to worry about,” Richmond said.

While I appreciated his confidence, I wasn’t sure I shared it.

“Any news on the Derrick Ames case?” Alison asked us.

“Check with me at the end of the day,” Richmond told her. “I might have something for you by then.”

“Okay, but I’m going to hold you to that,” Alison said. Then she disappeared back into the crowd in the break room, looking for a photo op.

Blake Sutherland was already in the conference room waiting for us. She looked like she had just stepped out of the latest issue of
Vogue
or
Cosmopolitan
. Her chestnut-colored hair was sleek and smooth, accented with caramel highlights. Her dark brown eyes were masterfully done with shadows, liners, and mascara that magnified their color and shape without looking overdone. She was tall and slender, and dressed in tight-fitting, dark green slacks, brown pumps, and a tailored tan blouse that hugged her tiny waist and emphasized her ample bust. She was thoroughly pedicured and manicured and smelled divine. It wasn’t hard to understand what Wendy saw in her. Blake Sutherland was a thoroughbred.

Her culture and manners were apparent almost immediately. She sat in a chair with her back ramrod straight, one leg crossed over the other. She folded her hands in her lap and showed us a pleasant smile that may or may not have been genuine. Richmond did the introductions and informed her that our talk would be recorded. “Of course,” she said with that pleasant smile. She looked over at me as I settled into my chair and said, “Ms. Winston, you have the most amazing blue eyes. I always wanted blue eyes. Brown is so . . . earthy.” Her lip curled in disgust when she said the word “earthy.” Clearly it wasn’t a good thing in her mind.

“Thank you,” I said, wondering if she was trying to pave her way by plying me with false flattery. Frankly, I didn’t care.

“Please tell me how I can be of help to you,” Blake said, shifting her gaze to Richmond.

“I’m guessing Wendy Ames filled you in already?” Richmond said.

Most people would have hesitated, wondering if they should lie, but Blake answered without hesitation. “Yes, she did. She called me Saturday night right after they’d been notified. She slipped into the bathroom so she could speak to me in private. It’s a terrible thing that happened to Derrick. He is . . . was a decent, kind man.”

“You’ve met him?” Richmond said, looking surprised.

“Uh, no,” Blake answered, with a guilty smile. At least she had the sense to look abashed. “But I’ve heard Wendy talk about him a lot. When you have two people who are caught up in an acrimonious breakup like theirs was, and they manage to set aside their own petty disagreements and differences for the sake of their children, that speaks volumes about the characters of the people involved. Derrick always put his boys first, and he’s worked really hard over the past year to make the split as easy as possible for the kids. Frankly, he was much more mature about things in the beginning than Wendy was, but she came around pretty quickly.”

“Did the two of them ever fight?” Richmond asked.

“I’ve never seen the two of them together, but based on what Wendy told me they argued from time to time, like any couple does. I think that happened more in the beginning, but over the past few months things settled down, especially after Wendy agreed to share custody.”

“Have you and Wendy been involved since the split?”

“We’ve been involved since before the split,” she said, without shame or embarrassment. “In fact, it was our relationship that led to the split. We didn’t mean for it to happen; it just did. Neither of us has ever been involved in a relationship like this before, but when we met, something just clicked. It’s hard to explain.”

“How did you meet?” Richmond asked.

“I do some interior design work, and Wendy hired me when she wanted to remodel the kitchen in that old Victorian they lived in. The kitchen never did get done, and when Wendy left Derrick, she also left the house. She said she never liked the place, that it was Derrick who was into the older home styles. Wendy’s tastes are much more modern.”

“How did Derrick find out about the two of you?” I asked.

“Wendy told him. She said he didn’t seem too upset until she told him she planned to move out and take the boys with her. Derrick went ballistic with that. He didn’t want the divorce, but once he realized Wendy was determined to go through with it, he focused on his relationship with his boys. Wendy played hardball at first, but I convinced her to back down on the custody issue because Derrick was threatening to go to my husband about the whole thing. Once Wendy agreed to share custody, Derrick seemed to reach a level of acceptance that let him move on. After that, their relationship got much better.”

“Derrick may have accepted things, but his son Jacob didn’t,” I said.

Blake looked appropriately concerned as she nodded. “Yes, Wendy has told me about Jacob’s determination to get the two of them back together. I feel bad for the boy. I’m sure he doesn’t understand how futile it is for him to want that, particularly since Wendy hasn’t told either of the boys about her and me. I have to give Derrick credit. As far as I know he never trashed Wendy to his boys, nor did he rat her out.”

“And I assume your husband doesn’t know either?” I said.

Now she did look embarrassed. “He does not, and Wendy and I would like to keep it that way for now. At the risk of sounding like a callous gold digger, I’m not willing to give up my current lifestyle, and the money comes in handy for Wendy, too. She doesn’t make much at that insurance company she works for. I hope I can count on your discretion in this matter?”

“Wendy doesn’t mind sharing you with your husband?”

“It works for us for now.”

Richmond and I looked at one another, and then he said, “Mrs. Sutherland, can you tell us where you were on Saturday night between the hours of six and eight?”

“Yes, I can. My husband and I were having dinner at that new French restaurant on Capitol Square in Madison, the one that just opened? We left there around seven-thirty. The maître d’ is a friend of mine, and I’m sure he’ll vouch for our time there.”

Richmond took down the name of the maître d’, and after a couple of basic contact questions, he let Blake go.

“This job never fails to surprise me,” Richmond said once she was gone. “But surprises or not, Blake Sutherland seems like a dead end. Let’s hope we do better with the Ames family.”

“It may not be a dead end,” I said. “I didn’t realize Wendy Ames works for an insurance company. Makes me wonder if she took out life insurance on Derrick, and if she did is it still active? And who are the beneficiaries?”

“Good question,” Richmond said. “We’ll have to ask Wendy about that, and in the meantime I’ll get Hurley to look into it, too.”

 

 

The Ames family lawyer was the antithesis of Lucien—at least the old Lucien. Whereas Lucien was typically dressed in wrinkled, worn, and stained clothing, this guy, who announced his arrival with a terse “Stanley Barber the Third”—with emphasis on
the Third
, as if that was supposed to mean something to us—had on a navy-blue pin-striped suit that included pants with a crease sharp enough to cut cheese. Lucien was also known for cutting cheese, but in his case it was a bodily function rather than any type of fashion statement. Stanley’s shirt was spotless, and when he removed his jacket I saw the telltale creases of a professional laundry service. His shoes were highly polished, shiny enough that he could have checked the status of his neatly coiffed hair in their reflection. I couldn’t help but wonder if Blake Sutherland’s money was paying for Stanley Barber the Third.

Stanley breezed into the interrogation room with a practiced authority and placed his alligator-skin briefcase on the table. He opened it, keeping it turned so we couldn’t see its contents, sat down in a chair with his back ramrod straight, and folded his hands on the table. The one thing he did have in common with Lucien was what I call the lawyer smile. It’s the same predatory, sly smile you see on the faces of Mafia henchmen in movies, right before they seal someone’s feet in concrete and toss them in the East River.

Wendy looked nervous, Michael looked sad, and Jacob looked bored and indifferent. Today Jacob was wearing dark blue jeans and a red T-shirt with
ZOMBIES HATE FAST FOOD
written on it. I looked down at his shoes. They were high-tops, with the laces undone. I saw Richmond glance at Jacob’s footwear as well, and the two of us exchanged a frustrated look when we realized they weren’t the shoes we had seen in the video.

There was some juggling for seats, and when it was all done, Wendy was to Stanley’s left, with Jacob and Michael to her left. As soon as everyone was in position, Stanley spoke to us with his head tilted back ever so slightly, giving the impression that he was looking down his nose at us. It wouldn’t have surprised me to know that he was doing just that, if for no other reason than simply because of the way Richmond and I were dressed. Richmond was between sizes in his clothes because of the weight he had lost, and it had left him wearing baggy stuff that tended to make him look like a sloppy, shapeless blob. I was in the same situation with regard to being between sizes, but for the opposite reason. I wasn’t ready to start wearing my maternity clothes just yet, and my old clothes fit snugly enough that I feared making any unusual or sudden moves lest I burst a seam somewhere and expose some part of my ever-growing body. Plus my creases, unlike Stanley’s, came from being folded up inside a suitcase, not from a laundry service.

“My client, Wendy Ames, understands that you wish to question her son Jacob regarding his whereabouts on the day of his father’s demise,” Stanley said in a nasal, snobby tone. “You may question him at this time, but he will not answer any questions unless I tell him to.” He said this with a pointed look at Jacob, making me suspect that Wendy’s eldest might not want to play ball. This suspicion grew even stronger when I looked over at Jacob. He appeared sullen, angry, and ready to explode. His nose flared with every breath, his right leg was jiggling nervously, and the muscles in his jaw were twitching. I had a sense that with a little provocation he would explode like fireworks on the Fourth of July. And provocation is something I excel at.

“You may begin,” Stanley said in his haughty tone.

Richmond hit the button under the table edge that started the AV recording rolling. It made me think of Hurley spending time with Charlie, and my mood plummeted. I shook it off and refocused on the task at hand.

After a brief intro to note the day, the time, the people present, and the case this interview was for, Richmond said, “Jacob, your brother told us you left the house in the late afternoon on the day of your father’s death during the time that your mother was out. Is that true?”

Jacob shot his brother a nasty look, and I felt bad for the younger boy.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Stanley said.

“No, you don’t,” Richmond said. “We already know you were there. Not only did some of your father’s neighbors see you arrive and leave in a huff, they heard the two of you exchange heated words.” Richmond looked over at Stanley. “We have several neighbors who are willing to sign affidavits verifying this.”

Stanley’s pompous expression faltered just a smidge, and he leaned over and whispered something into Wendy’s ear. Wendy nodded and then looked at Jacob. “Go ahead and tell them what you told me.”

“Yeah, I went over to my dad’s house.”

“And the two of you had a disagreement?” Richmond posed.

“I saw him in bed with another woman,” Jacob said in a sneering tone. “It made me mad.”

“Who was the woman?” Richmond asked.

“Ollie Terwilliger’s mom, Mandy.”

Richmond looked over at Wendy. “Did you know Derrick was seeing her?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Stanley said.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Wendy said, looking at her lawyer. “I don’t have anything to hide, Stanley. And, yes,” she said, shifting her gaze back to Richmond, “I did know that Derrick was seeing her.”

Wendy reached over and placed a hand on her son’s arm, but he immediately pulled away from her. “Jacob, honey, I’ve told you before that your dad and I are never going to get back together.”

“What bullshit!” Jacob yelled, shooting his mother a nasty look. I could tell he was trying not to cry. “You didn’t even try. Maybe if you’d put a little effort into it, he wouldn’t have found himself a girlfriend.”

“Your father and I did try, but it just didn’t work,” Wendy said with a sympathetic but pained expression. “I’ve explained this to you before. So has your father.”

“Whatever,” Jacob mumbled. He folded his arms over his chest and slammed back in his chair, grinding his teeth.

“We talked to the mother of the boy whose house you said you were going to that night—to play some video games, I believe it was?” Richmond said.

Jacob eyed him angrily. “Yeah, so? Is it against the law to play video games now?”

“Jacob!” Wendy pivoted in her chair and faced her son. “There is no need for the snotty tone.”

Richmond kept at the boy. “She said you were there, but that you and Sean didn’t eat dinner. I know you were climbing out the window of your bedroom at home to sneak around. Any chance you did the same thing at Sean’s house?”

“Don’t answer that question,” Stanley said. Then he leaned forward and eyed Richmond. “I need to confer with my client before we continue this.”