Swan Song (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) (3 page)

And Julie O’Hara was a Peeping Tom, more accurate than a polygraph.

Julie reviewed the material. She had already scored the candidates according to her criteria, which were equal parts coding system and experience, with a healthy dollop of gut instinct. She began to write a detailed opinion on each of the candidates, choosing her words with great care, balancing accuracy and tact.

An hour and a half flew by, unnoticed.

At last satisfied, she signed her report and sat back.

When she looked up, Joe was standing in her doorway.

* * * * *  

Chapter
4

“
H
i. Sorry I’m late. You busy?”

“Nope, just finished,” said Julie, getting up. “Let’s go in the conference room.”

Joe went in ahead of her and set the file on the table, pulling out its contents.

She took a seat next to him as he separated it into three sections.

“Okay. Here’s the ME’s report, the police report and some newspaper articles. There’re copies of the deed to her townhouse, her real estate broker’s license, her driver’s license, also notes I took relative to her driving record and her record with the DBPR and FREC.”

Julie knew he was referring to the Department of Business and Professional Regulation and the Florida Real Estate Commission, either of which could have a record of any disputes or irregularities involving Dianna.

Joe rifled through the next pile.

“These are the transcribed notes from the interviews I did with the cops, the Orlando
Park Service…and you, of course…and with everybody else connected with Dianna: the Wielands; Kate Winslow, her partner at Bay Street Realty; Sabrina Nolen, at the Title Agency. Also, Lee Porter, the attorney who handled their commercial stuff, and his secretary, Evelyn Hoag. There’s my meeting with Lincoln Tyler, her off-and-on boyfriend in Ocala, and Barry Costello, her personal trainer at the YMCA, plus some of her neighbors.

“Actually, you dropped in at the right time, Merlin. I’ve got nowhere else to go with this, and I’ve been trying to summarize for Frank and Betty Weiland. I hate like hell to keep taking their money, frankly. Here’s a tentative draft of my report,” he said, pointing to a single file in a blue folder. “You might want to look at that first.”

Julie picked up the folder and began reading. Joe crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to finish.

“My investigation,”
Julie read aloud from the last page
, “can only confirm the conclusion of the Orlando Police Department that there was no foul play involved in Dianna’s death.”

“Oh, that’s going to be tough for them to read, Joe. Was there no suspicion at all?”

“There’s
always
suspicion, Merlin, and there was plenty in this case. Dianna didn’t fit the profile, and neither did the circumstances of her death. But there was simply no evidence of anyone else at the scene and no other reason for her to have been in the Park at that hour. ”

He pulled out the police report.

“Look...here,” he said, pointing. “The time of death was estimated at ‘thirty to sixty minutes prior to the discovery of the body’. You remember you said how ‘pale’ she looked? Dianna didn’t mess around. She cut once, and deep. She bled out quickly.”

“But why do it at Lake
Eola?”

“I don’t know, but she drove herself here. The Lexus was parked right on the Parkway. Obviously, she wanted to end it in the swan boat; maybe it was some kind of statement.”

Julie was reading the police detective’s report, a poor quality copy.

“Detective…what’s his name here…McPhee?”

“Yeah, Patrick McPhee,” said Joe.

“He says here that the blood trail ‘started on the walkway’. Couldn’t she have been attacked by someone…someone who killed her, and then ran off?”

“There was no sign of a struggle and
she
had the knife, Merlin. There’s no evidence of assault for sex or money. She was wearing a small purse across her body with a thin strap. It would have been easy to cut it or pull it off her, but it was zipped-up with her license, cash and credit cards inside. Besides, why would she be walking around the Park at that hour in the morning? And what mugger, or rapist, or whatever, would even be
awake
?”

Julie sighed, leaning back in her chair, thinking about it.

How sad. How odd that I only remember the blood on the dock, beyond the gate. Shock, probably. And they towed the swan boat in. Like everyone else, my attention was riveted on the boat and the dock.

Now she remembered the CSI unit taking samples from the walkway.

Wait a minute…

“If you want to die in a swan boat, why not do it
after
you’re in it?”

“She did die in the swan boat,” said Joe.

“But she cut herself on the
walkway,
” said Julie. “What if she bled too fast and couldn’t make it to the swan boat? Why would anyone drive all the way into Lake Eola Park just to die on a sidewalk? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to get in the swan boat, and
then
cut her wrist?”

“‘Made more sense’? Who’s making sense when they’re committing suicide?”

“Hmm, that’s true, I suppose,” she said, conceding the point.

“Well…let’s narrow down the interviews.” She reached for the stack and handed it to him. “Which of these people, do you think, are most likely to give us some deeper insight about Dianna herself, as a person?”

Joe thought about it, flipping through the pile.

“Her partner at Bay Street Realty, Kate Winslow, definitely,” he said, setting that one aside.
“Her parents, of course. The cowboy, Lincoln Tyler, from his angle. And Evelyn Hoag, I think.” He pulled them out and added them.

“Who is Evelyn Hoag, again?”

“You know Lee Porter, the attorney? She’s his secretary.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Julie. “I’ve met him. I didn’t remember her name.”

“She seemed to be very friendly with Dianna,” said Joe. “Porter and Evelyn Hoag would both be worth seeing again. Dianna and Kate did a lot of commercial business and Lee Porter was their attorney of choice. Come to think of it, someone mentioned a complaint letter about Bay Street Realty. Porter might know more about that.”

“Okay. Let’s put his interview in there, too. I think we should start with the
Wielands, Joe, so they get to know me. Can you arrange that?”

“Sure,” he said, putting the papers back into the file.

“Tomorrow or the next day would be good,” she said. “And could you leave the file with me? I’ll need some time to go over it.”

“Yes, of course. I’m glad you’re getting involved in this, Merlin. Maybe, between the two of us, we can really help Frank and Betty Wieland.”

His eyes held hers for a moment before an awkward smile took over and he lowered them. He pushed his chair back and stood.

“Well. I’ll call you later, Julie.”

She walked behind him a few steps into the reception area. He turned and smiled at her as he exited her office.

He called me Julie.

She suddenly realized she was famished and looked at her watch. Two o’clock.

Julie took the file into her office and reluctantly set it on her desk, having decided to work on it after lunch. She stood there for a moment looking at it, puzzled. There was something very wrong about this “suicide”. Julie almost felt as if Dianna was depending on her to get at the truth.

Without doubt, once she got into that file, she’d forget all about eating.

* * * * * 

Chapter
5

T
he two-bedroom block and stucco house was modest, although it was in a gated, golf course community. In the mix of larger homes and condos, this one was decidedly average. Julie followed Joe up the walk, noting that the Wieland’s place was neat, but unattractive. There were no flowers or personal touches. Although it was owned, the house had the appearance of a short-term rental…a place to which the occupants had no attachment.

Frank Wieland opened the door.

“Hi, Joe, good to see you,” he said, shaking Joe’s hand.

The man was slim and tall, with deeply receding brown hair and pale, freckled skin. He wore a cardigan sweater over a plaid shirt with suspenders. He was in Florida in body only and still had “Northerner” written all over him. An equally tall, dark haired woman with empty eyes and sunken cheeks stood behind him. She wore a floral dress, now faded to pastel.

“Hello, Frank, Betty. It’s good to see you, too. This is my friend, Julie O’Hara.”

“Hello, Mr. Wieland, thank you for allowing me to come over,” said Julie.

He shook her hand.

“Not at all, thank you for coming.
C’mon in.”

Julie stepped forward and held her hand out to his wife, who might otherwise have only nodded.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wieland.”

With a weak smile, Betty Wieland followed her husband’s lead.

“Yes…you, too.”

They walked through a formal living room to a family room off the kitchen.

The couple led the way to a tan leather couch and loveseat behind a heavy pewter and glass coffee table. A matching recliner completed the third side of a square. The arrangement faced a moderate-sized flat-screen TV surrounded by walnut shelves. Shelves filled with ice skating plaques and trophies…Dianna’s, Julie assumed.

“Can I get you some iced tea or water?” asked Betty.

Julie and Joe accepted the tea. Betty Wieland brought four glasses from the kitchen to the coffee table, two at a time, setting them directly on the glass. Frank Wieland reached for a stack of coasters and put one under each glass.

Something a woman would do…or a perfectionist.

Sensitive to the Wielands’ need to ease into conversation about Dianna, they talked about the community for a few minutes. The small talk also gave Julie time to study the couple.

After years of experience, Julie and a psychologist colleague had objectively tested the accuracy of her initial impressions. She had scored ninety-percent. Given her specialty, this was no surprise to her. Scientific observation in the field of body language had proven that rapid cognition was a common human ability and highly reliable. Julie had great respect for “snap judgment”. Unfortunately, what she saw before her was a deeply divided couple.

As they’d planned, she let Joe introduce the subject of their visit.

“Let me assure you folks, Julie and I both want to know
why
this terrible thing happened. We’ve worked together on other cases, and it’s our intention to re-interview as many people as possible who had any association with Dianna. As you know, Julie was there that day.”

That was her cue.

“I haven’t been able to forget that morning. May I call you Frank and Betty?”

“Of course,” said Frank.

“While Joe and I can’t promise you resolution, I can assure you that we won’t leave any stone unturned,” said Julie. “Sometimes, a second, deeper look can uncover things that were held back. Particularly in a case like this where so much importance rests on the person’s state of mind. We know the outward circumstances of Dianna’s life. I’d like to take it a step further, to understand her better. Is that all right?”

They both nodded, silently.

“You told the police that the last time you had seen Dianna was on Christmas day…that she came here, to your house. Is that right?”

“Yes,” said Frank. “She came over for dinner, like always.”

“She came to dinner a lot?”

“Well…no…on holidays,” he said, sitting back, crossing his arms.

Defensive…

She looked directly at Betty and asked her a key question.

“Dianna died on January 28
th
, four weeks later. You hadn’t spoken to her in a month?”

Frank answered before Betty had a chance to speak.

“Dianna was in Real Estate. She was busy. She didn’t have a lot of free time.”

Betty turned to him. Quietly, but firmly, she said, “She was never too busy to call
me
, Frank.”

Julie paused, surprised by an intense micro expression that momentarily flitted across Betty’s face, but she caught herself and went on.

“Joe was telling me that you folks are originally from Massachusetts. It looks like someone was quite good at skating,” said Julie, rising and moving toward the display of trophies. “Are they Dianna’s?”

“Yes, all of them,” said Frank, joining her. “Dianna was a championship figure skater. These earlier ones, the plaques, were from her skating club. They had tests that the skaters had to pass for different levels, you know, junior, intermediate, senior? And this one, this is the Massachusetts State Champion trophy, first place.” He was beaming with pride at this point, remembering Dianna’s skating triumphs. “This smaller one is for the New England Regional. She placed third, but, of course, that was a much larger pool of skaters; they came from several states. And this one is for freestyle at the Rinks Festival…”