Deadfall (29 page)

“Did we wake you?” Kevin asked.

“Nah, just zoning—watching the tube.”

“Hmm.” Kevin sat at Jeremy's right and Mac took a seat on his left. “Like my partner said, you are not under arrest or anything like that. If you don't want to talk to us at any time, just say so and we'll get out of your hair. Okay?”

“Okay. So what's this about?”

“We're looking into your relationship with Jessica Turner right now. She's helping us with an investigation, and we thought you might have some information for us.”

Mac caught Kevin's eye.
Smooth move.

“Jess?” Jeremy came out of his slouch. “Is she in town?”

“Like I said, she's been very cooperative, and we're hoping you will be as well. We're looking into a situation involving Bradley Gaynes. Do you know him?”

“Yeah, I know Brad. We go back a ways.” Jeremy folded his arms. “I'll tell you right up front, there's no love lost between Brad and me. I helped look for him when he went missing—more as a favor to Jessica. The guy just, you know, disappeared. Weird scene all the way around. I only know what Jessica told me.”

“And what was that?” Kevin pressed.

Mac leaned back, suspecting Jeremy would be a weak interview— easy to manipulate and easy to catch in a lie.

“Just that Brad got rough with her and she broke it off with him. Guess he went for a walk and never came back. That's it, man; that's all I know.”

“And when did she tell you this? Have you talked to her lately?”

“Sheesh, I wish. Jess went stone cold when she moved out. Went to live with some family members in California or something. I haven't talked to her since she left. Did you say she was in town?”

“No, I didn't say.” Kevin made a note on his pad. “I heard mention of some letters you wrote to Jessica. Some letters that indicated you would like to be more than friends?”

“Did she show you those?”

Neither Kevin nor Mac answered.

After a moment, Jeremy said, “Yeah, I wrote a few letters. See, I used to ski with her and Brad. We would party at their place, have some drinks. Some of the guys smoked a little bud now and again.” He shrugged. “A few went with crack.”

“But you didn't?”

“Nah. I drink sometimes but never got into the drug scene. That stuff messes up your brain, you know what I mean?”

Mac nodded. Jeremy's answer surprised him.

“Jess didn't do drugs either,” Jeremy went on. “She was okay with Brad doing dope for a while, but then she started getting on him. She wanted Brad to quit everything—the smoking, the drinking, the drugs. He didn't like her telling him what to do. Jess was really unhappy, and sometimes when everybody else was bombed, she'd tell me stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Kevin settled back in the chair, obviously giving Jeremy some room.

“Personal stuff.” Jeremy frowned. “Man, what do you need that for? I told you I don't know anything about Brad going missing.”

Kevin sat forward. “Brad isn't missing anymore, Jeremy. He's lying in a freezer in the morgue. We pulled him out of the river two days ago.”

“No way.” Jeremy turned a pale shade of gray. “Is that why you guys are here? You think I had something to do with it? I swear I didn't. You gotta believe me.”

“We don't ‘gotta' do anything, Jeremy,” Kevin said. “But I would love to eliminate you as a person who would have the means, opportunity, or intent to pull this off. Are you going to help me do that?”

“I'll do anything; just let me know what.”

“Have you ever taken a polygraph test?”

Jeremy sighed. “Once, when I was accused of stealing money from work.”

“How did that turn out?” Mac asked.

Jeremy shifted in his seat. “Well, I never actually finished the test. Before they were through with their questions, I admitted to taking out a loan.”

Kevin glanced over at Mac, trying not to smile. “So, are you willing to take one again?”

“Sure, I'll take it right now. Hook me up.”

“We'll have to make arrangements for that,” Kevin said, “but we appreciate your cooperation. Tell me more about the letters to Jessica and your romantic interest in her. You were talking about sharing. She shared what, thoughts, emotions, body fluids? You tell me.”

“I wish. We just talked. Jessica had a lot on her mind. For a while, after Brad disappeared, I tried to convince her to go out with me. She said she couldn't be with me because it would look bad.

She said she was going to take some time in California and then come back, or I could go south if she found a good job. But like I said, she took off and I never heard from her again—no call, no letter.” Jeremy dipped his head and examined a spot on his jeans.

“I see.” Kevin looked at his notes, more for dramatic effect than anything else. “So tell me, Jeremy—just so I can understand correctly. You don't know anything about Brad's death, is that correct?”

“I swear on a stack of—”

“Don't say that, please. I don't want you regretting those words.

A simple yes or no works fine with me.”

“Okay, then—no.”

“Good. Then it's safe to say you have nothing to hide.”

“Right.” He spread his hands. “Nothing.”

“Good, very good. Tell me about that five-shot revolver you bought at the Expo.”

He looked from one detective to the other, surprise registering on his features. “How'd you know about that?”

“Those forms you fill out and the electronic fingerprint imaging scan you used when you bought the gun.”

Jeremy grinned. “Oh, yeah.”

“Those records are maintained by our department, so I know what you bought and how much you paid.”

“It's legal, right? I don't have any felonies on my record, so I can have a gun.”

“Yeah, you're okay. I just don't want you going sideways on us. Tell us about the gun, Jeremy. Why did you buy it, and where is it now?”

“There's not much to tell. I bought it when I was with my dad at a gun show. He loaned me a little cash, and I'm paying him back. The gun is downstairs in my nightstand. You want me to get it?”

“Not right now. We'll get to that in a minute.” Kevin looked Jeremy in the eye. “So why did you buy the gun—a .357 Smith, right?”

“Yeah, that's right. I've been working a little security up at the mountain at night, you know, watching over some of the ski-run grooming machines. Some guys were messing with their snow cats and other equipment, so they hired me to watch the yard at night. I make a few bucks, mainly get vouchers on some food and lift tickets. It gets a little spooky out there at night, so I decided to start carrying the gun with me.”

“Do you have a concealed weapons permit?” Kevin asked.

“Um . . .” Jeremy winced. “No, but I should have, right? Are you going to take my gun?”

“We'd like to take your gun and run a couple of tests on it,”

Kevin said. “With your consent, of course. And I would be willing to forget about that permit thing if you're willing to help us out.”

“Sure, but what kind of tests? Will it wreck the gun?”

“No, not at all. I just want to have one of our gun experts examine the gun. You'll have it back by week's end if it checks out okay. Then I suggest you get that permit.”

“Sure, okay then. Do you want it now?”

“Mac will go with you to get it.” Kevin motioned toward Mac.

Mac accompanied Jeremy downstairs to his living quarters and asked him to point out where the gun was stored. “Thanks, Jeremy. Now I'm going to ask you to stay right here while I get it, okay?”

“Whatever you say.”

Mac retrieved the handgun from a bedside table and secured it before following Jeremy back upstairs. Once he was in better light, Mac opened the cylinder and extracted five hollow-point cartridges into his hand, rolling them around momentarily for his partner to see. When Kevin saw the hollow-point bullets atop the shiny aluminum casings, he raised an eyebrow. They were the same type of bullet found in their victim. The same caliber firearm.

“Any more guns in the house?” Mac asked.

“Lots. My dad has a gun safe in his bedroom.” Jeremy glanced toward a closed door. “He's a big-time hunter.”

“Could we take a look at those guns too?” Kevin asked.

“Sorry, I guess Dad isn't the trusting type. I don't have the combo.”

“Any more .357s or .38s in the safe to your knowledge, Jeremy?”

“Dad carries a .357 Chief Special, just like mine. That's why I bought that one. I think he has some more handguns, and he has about five rifles for different game, but I'm not sure what caliber. He won't be back for a couple weeks, sorry.”

“Will he be calling in while he's gone?”

“Probably. You'll have to ask Donna.”

“We'll do that,” Mac said.

“Will you be at this residence for a while, and can we contact you here?” Kevin asked.

“No immediate plans, and yeah, you can call me here.”

Kevin jotted down the phone number, telling him they would be in touch about the gun and a polygraph examination. Mac gave Jeremy a business card. After talking briefly to Donna, the detectives left the residence. Donna promised to have her husband call them if and when he contacted her.

They then headed for the crime lab to meet with Wain Carver and his ballistics water tank.

26

I
THOUGHT YOU WERE DOWN SOUTH,” Mac said to Philly as they entered the twelfth-floor crime lab entrance at the Justice Center.

“I heard you were trying to cut me out of the loop and thought I better get over here and make sure you and Gramps weren't messing things up.” Philly gave them a look of almost genuine concern.

“Where's Russ?” Kevin ignored Philly's comments.

“Down on the first floor, sniffing around some latent-print tech he's been dating. He'll meet me down at the car when he's done slobbering all over the hall. I brought in some handwriting evidence for comparison from our caper in the valley and heard a uniform get the dispatch to hook a gun at the pawnbroker, told him I'd bring it down to the lab if he found it.”

It took Mac a moment to realize the gun in question was the one Jessica had hawked. “Did he get the gun?” Mac asked.

“I'm here, aren't I?” Philly opened his briefcase and produced a stainless semiautomatic. The slide was locked back and a metal tag ran from the magazine well to the ejection port, a required safety mechanism if you wanted the lab to accept the evidence for testing.

“Looks like a 9 mm.” Kevin eyed the weapon.

“Right on the money. One stainless steel finish, 9 mm Beretta. The gun had no magazine when the troop recovered it, so there are no cartridges to compare.” Philly slid the gun on the evidence bar over to Mac. “No way that peashooter's going to throw enough lead to be confused with that magnum round, but you better run the test anyway. You never get lucky on the first gun. It'll take at least . . .”

Philly stopped midsentence when Kevin pulled out J. Z.'s revolver, dangling the prize in front of him. This gun had the same metal evidence tag through the open cylinder of the five-shot revolver.

“You would get lucky, Bledsoe. Where'd you skin that hog's leg?”

“Off a punk who was making time with our vic's girlfriend,” Mac answered.

Kevin gave Mac a glance of disapproval.
It's okay to talk with
Philly without talking like Philly.

“You're kidding me,” Philly said. “I bet that's your weapon right there. Means and motive, huh?”

“We shall soon see.” Kevin scanned the floor for the firearms expert. “Is Wain available?”

“Yeah, he's around. I already asked for him. The receptionist said he'd be right up.”

“You guys all wrapped up on that murder-for-hire business?” Mac asked.

“All the brainwork's done, so Sarge cut me loose; the valley boys can clean up the rest. Man, that was one slick piece of work on our part. You guys should have seen this broad when Eric showed her the picture of her ‘dead' husband.” Philly made the quote marks with his fingers. “She laughed and said she hoped he suffered big-time. Then she cut Eric a check for another ten grand. The husband was sitting in the next hotel room with Russ, listening in the wire. I thought he was going to stroke out right there he was so angry. Eric gave the arrest signal over the mic, right? Then we walked in with the husband and pinched her for conspiracy to commit murder. Her jaw almost hit the ground when she saw her husband.” Philly laughed. “She started yellin' she wanted Eric arrested for fraud. I almost split a gut watching the whole thing. This gal was a real beaut.”

“Is she in custody now?” Mac asked.

“At Clackamas County jail as we speak. Sarge has been on the phone with the district attorney, trying to go over the evidence for the grand jury. The woman tried to hire a high-powered attorney, but her husband pulled the plug on the funds. This is going to be one for the books when she's convicted. Sarge thinks she'll pull an insanity plea.”

“What was her motive, insurance money?” Mac leaned against the counter.

“That may have been part of it, but I think her friend, the pool boy, also had something to do with it. According to the guys on surveillance, she had the cleanest pool on the block, if you know what I mean. That pool guy was showing up at the door the minute the husband took off for work. I guess she was looking to trade in her old man for a newer model.”

“Did the pool guy have anything to do with the wife's plan?”

Kevin asked.

“Nope—the guy had other clients to service, I guess. He never missed a beat.”

Kevin looked over the evidence submittal counter as the clerk sat back down and pulled her chair up to her desk. “Wain's on his way up now,” she said without looking at the detectives, as she answered the phone.