Enemies Closer (21 page)

“I don’t think so, Ben.”

He chuckled. “Fine. ZephyrNemesis looked into the ex-husband. He’s dead.”

Clara’s mouth formed an O.

“They didn’t divorce, Clara, he died. His name was Roy Harrelson.”

Clara finally spoke. “He died?”

“He was killed, actually. Hit-and-run driver.” Ben turned to his computer and scrolled through his email until he found the most recent. He opened it and started scanning an attached document. Summarizing, he said, “A fast-traveling automobile swerved into him and crushed him against a parked car in the red light district. There were plenty of people on the street when a patrol car passed by and saw the guy lying in the street, but no one called an ambulance until the vehicle was long gone. One witness said that after the car hit him, the driver continued to gun the engine, pushing the man further into the parked car. Roy Harrelson was already dead when the police found him. Massive internal injuries, punctured lung, damage to his kidneys, ruptured spleen, both legs broken at the femur. The medical examiner ruled cause of death was massive blood loss due to a ruptured femoral artery.”

Clara was still trying to process the news. She said, “Sounds like murder.”

“They never caught the driver. Witnesses seemed to agree that the vehicle was a dark SUV, of which there are about a million in Denver, Colorado. They couldn’t get a consensus on whether the driver intentionally continued to crush Mr. Harrelson. Without evidence, it was ruled a vehicular homicide. Manslaughter due to gross negligence.”

Clara’s mind was reeling. She couldn’t imagine why Michelle wouldn’t have told Maddy, her best friend and maid-of-honor at her wedding, that she had been married once before and that her husband had been killed in a terrible accident.

Ben went on, “Roy was not what you’d call a model citizen. He was no stranger to that part of town and several witnesses suggested that he would not be missed. They eventually found the SUV abandoned across town. It had a lot of damage to the passenger side of the vehicle and lab tests proved that Roy’s blood was all over the damaged area. A license plate check showed that the car had been reported stolen that evening when a family of four left a movie theater to discover it was no longer in the parking lot.”

“So the driver stole the car,” said Clara distractedly.

“Yes,” said Ben, still scanning the email. “There was a life insurance policy for fifty thousand dollars, payable to Michelle. The death was never investigated as a killing with malice aforethought. Since the police couldn’t find enough evidence of intent, they filed it under manslaughter. Never considered Michelle a suspect of any kind, though they did note that she wasn’t devastated by the news of her husband’s death. Again, Roy had a police record for theft and a number of petty crimes, he was suspected in a number of scams, and he was a regular with the prostitutes in the red light district. Not a great loss to society, and understandably not a great loss to his young wife.”

“Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money, but it’s not a fortune. It’s hard to imagine Michelle committing murder for that amount when she could just leave him.”

“Murders have been committed for a lot less.”

“I can’t believe you’re suggesting that Michelle murdered her first husband for fifty thousand dollars and then went on to become my sister’s best friend and business partner.”

Ben shrugged. “I’m not suggesting anything, but it certainly shines a new light on Michelle Perkins. And it’s strange that she never told anyone. Some secrets are suspicious, Clara, and this is one of them, particularly given the situation at hand.”

Clara couldn’t disagree, but she didn’t want to consider that Michelle had murdered her husband. “Strange, yes. Suspicious, maybe. But I still think it could be the kind of thing she wanted to leave in the past. After he died, she moved to Seattle and started fresh, right? Michelle must have wanted to forget all about it.”

Ben was skeptical, but he said, “At the very least it shows a pattern of having relationships with dodgy men. She’s had two husbands with police records for financial crimes and both of them have been suspected of philandering.”

“Bad taste in men is not a crime.”

Ben was silent for a moment. “My friend did a property search on both Eddie and Michelle, and they own a house north of here. We need to call Kincaid and Carlisle and tell them what we’ve learned. I think we should make the call on our way north. We need to get a look at this country home.”

Clara was so grateful that silent tears began rolling down her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around Ben. Being able to actually do something, something concrete, to find Maddy was such a relief that she didn’t know how she would make it through the drive. Letting go of Ben, she asked, “How far is it?”

He reached for his iPhone and plugged in the address. “Under ninety minutes without traffic. It’s near La Conner, in Skagit County.” The blank look on Clara’s face prompted, “North of Seattle, on the water. We’ll have to go to my place to pick up the Jeep.”

“Let’s go,” said Clara, her blazer back on and her purse already looped over her shoulder. She picked up her scarf and stood by the office door while Ben shut down his computer and checked his pockets for his wallet.

They walked quickly and silently, holding hands and weaving their way through the heavy pedestrian traffic. When they reached Ben’s building on Pine Street, he used a fob on his keychain to unlock the entry door and then again in the elevator before pushing the button for the tenth floor. “My car keys are upstairs,” he said, squeezing Clara’s hand. “We’ll be on the road before you know it,” he added reassuringly.

When the elevator doors opened, Clara drew a quick breath in surprise. A white travertine floor led straight from the threshold of the lift into an enormous apartment with natural light spilling in from every direction. Ben went straight for the kitchen and Clara followed mutely. The living space was open and spanned one side of the building. One end seemed devoted to a study, with bookshelves, a desk and a set of stuffed leather chairs the color of whiskey. The rest was an eclectic mix of leather sofas and armchairs, coffee tables and antique rugs. The kitchen was separated from the dining room by a large island with a gleaming white marble counter top.

Ben was lifting a set of keys from a drawer in the kitchen island when he caught the look on Clara’s face. “I know. It’s…” He actually seemed a little embarrassed. “I’ll show you around next time.”

Clara replied, “I’ll look forward to it.”

They left as quickly as they had come. In the elevator Clara wondered briefly about the penthouse. Was Ben Radcliffe
rich
? But her curiosity faded as quickly as it had come and her thoughts turned back to the journey ahead. They hopped into Ben’s black Jeep and pulled out of the underground parking lot, heading for the northbound I-5 and La Conner, Washington.

Chapter Twenty

C
arlisle and Kincaid were once again in the incident room at police headquarters on Cherry Street. Kincaid had just finished emailing a photo of Madeline Gardner to the local news stations. He’d called around first and had their promise to get the picture and a few words about the circumstances of her disappearance on the six and eleven o’clock news.

Carlisle was on the phone with the district attorney’s office trying to convince one of the prosecutors to get a warrant for Maddy’s bank records. “She’s been missing since Monday night. No, she was only reported missing on Wednesday, but no one had seen her in two days.” She listened for a few seconds. “Yes, she is a consenting adult. Yes, her purse and wallet are also missing, but she would have no reason to take off without telling her friends and family. Besides that, she has a thriving business that will fail to thrive if she doesn’t show up every day.” Kincaid had finished emailing the photo of Maddy and began idly listening to his partner make her case. “Yes, we can definitely get consent from her family.”

A few minutes later, Carlisle hung up the phone and grinned at Kincaid. “She thinks we can get it. There will have to be language about only using the information if it proves relevant to the missing persons case, but we should be able to find out where those big deposits came from.”

“Did she ask how we learned about the deposits in the first place?”

“Of course. I said that the sister gave us access to Maddy’s account, and she said that should still work with the judge, but again, it will limit the scope of our search.”

“Okay,” said Kincaid. “So, if we look through Maddy’s bank records and find evidence of a vast money laundering scheme we can’t use that evidence against her, but if we find out where those three deposits came from, we can use it to try and find out what happened to her.”

“Right,” said Judy Carlisle with a smile.

“Sounds good to me. When will we have the warrant?”

“The DA said to give her an hour to write it up and find a judge. Evidently she’s eaten at Dovetail a few times and met Maddy when she did the rounds in the dining room. So she’s going to get on it right away.”

“The key to a DA’s heart is through her stomach.” Kincaid sighed heavily. “Judy, when are public privacy laws going to turn in favor of the lowly missing persons detective? Homicide gets access to the victim’s records immediately, but we have to prove our guy or gal has not left of his or her own volition before we can take a peek. And financial records are the best way to determine if our missing person is a victim or a vacationer.”

“We wouldn’t want to violate our citizens’ right to privacy. I get it. A woman running away from an abusive husband wouldn’t want to be found, but we can usually see those situations a mile away. Plus, finding someone and ensuring they’re safe and sound doesn’t mean we have to report their whereabouts if they’d prefer to keep it a secret.”

“People who want to hide from their friends and family should just report themselves to our department beforehand,” said Kincaid with a twinkle in his eye. “Then we could just tell their loved ones: ‘She’s fine. She just doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.’”

Carlisle gave her partner a little punch in the shoulder and he clutched at his triceps. “Not so hard, Judy, I’m fragile.”

“Is she knocking you around, Wimpy?” said Tanaka from the doorway. Iverson stood next to him with a grin on his face.

“Only when he needs a little reminder of who’s boss,” said Carlisle. “What’s that grin about, Iverson?”

Iverson flopped into a desk chair and slapped a manila file on big conference table. “Eddie Perkins’s prints are all over Susan Burns’s apartment.
All
over.”

Tanaka piped up, “Bathroom, bedroom, headboard…”

“Yes!” Kincaid shouted, shaking his fist in the air.

Carlisle held a palm up toward her partner. “Any overlapping?”

“Yep,” said Tanaka smugly, “plenty. He’s been spending time in Miss Burns’s home for a while. Lab techs were able to find his prints under hers in three separate places in her bedroom.”

“So he was sleeping with her,” said Kincaid a little less enthusiastically, “but was he there the day she was murdered?”

Iverson’s grin had not wavered since he walked in the door. “We have his fingerprints on the murder weapon.”

Now Carlisle was smiling. “That’s enough. Haul him in. We’ve gotta get this guy in the hot seat and find out where Maddy Gardner is.”

“Thought you two might want to be in on the pick-up.”

“You got that right, Freddie,” said Kincaid, sliding into his suitcoat. “Let’s go.”

On their way out to the parking lot, Iverson told the missing persons detectives that a call to the concierge put Eddie’s car in the underground parking lot of his apartment building. “Can you believe that fucker has valet parking at his home?”

Fifteen minutes later, the four detectives pulled into the valet lot in two unmarked cars. Flashed his badge, Iverson told the surprised valet that they wouldn’t be long. Once inside, they got past a mortified concierge with another flash of the badges and a smug request from Tanaka to “Be a chum, Jeeves, and direct us to Edward Perkins’s flat?” The stricken man followed them into the elevator and pushed the button for Eddie’s floor.

“It’s to your left when you exit,” he said and disappeared behind the closing stainless steel doors.

The four detectives were quiet as they ascended to the thirty-third floor, an excited tension filling the small space. When the bell dinged and the doors opened, they marched down the wide corridor to Eddie and Michelle’s condo and Iverson knocked heavily on the door. After a few seconds a shadow passed over the peephole and the door opened a few inches. Eddie Perkins stood blocking the entry with a look of contempt that transformed into fear when he saw all four detectives standing in the hallway. “What do you want?” he demanded, the tremor in his voice belying the harsh question.

In a cool authoritative voice, Iverson said, “We need to take you down to the station, Mr. Perkins.”

“For what?” Eddie asked, but he was met with four unyielding pairs of eyes. “Fine. I’ll get my coat and meet you down there.”

“Afraid you’re going to have to ride with us,” said Iverson in the same implacable voice. “At this point we’re asking for your cooperation, but if you refuse, we’ll be back with an arrest warrant, patrol cars, sirens. It won’t be pretty, Mr. Perkins.” They had been counting on the threat of a public arrest to convince Eddie to cooperate and it worked.

He tried to hide it, but defeat registered in Eddie’s shoulders and the set of his brow. Iverson held the door open as Eddie went to a coat closet and retrieved an expensive cashmere coat to wear over his hundred-dollar maroon T-shirt and washed-out blue jeans. He slipped into dark brown loafers and retrieved a wallet, phone and keys from a drawer in a console table, dropping them into the pocket of his coat. He was a good-looking man, thought Carlisle. A little rough around the edges with the shaved head and the hard eyes, but that probably made him even more appealing to some.

She watched him as he followed Iverson and Tanaka toward the elevator. Eddie’s long-practiced strut did not fail him now and the little hitch in his step was all that kept him from looking totally crushed. Her cell phone started to ring but she ignored it. She’d check her messages when they got back to headquarters.

Clara left an urgent message asking Carlisle to call her, but she didn’t give any details. When she hung up, she turned to Ben. “Are we there yet?”

He laughed. “A little patience, my dear, we just left the city. I noticed you didn’t give the detective any specifics.”

“I don’t want her jumping to any conclusions about some conspiracy between Maddy and Eddie without me on the phone to insert my opinions. I’ll tell her everything when she calls back.”

“Are you going to tell her where we’re going?”

“Absolutely not. She might try to stop us.” She drummed her fingers on the armrest. “What if she’s there, Ben? What if someone is holding her at gunpoint?”

“First things first. We’ll snoop around a little and if we see anything, if we find Maddy, we’ll either free her on our own or we’ll call the local sheriff’s department.”

“That’s the plan?”

“That’s the plan, Clara.” He squeezed her leg and they drove in silence for a little while.

Clara turned her gaze to the foliage that lined the freeway. Under other circumstances she would have marveled at the succulents and layers of green that were so abundant in this part of the world when the hazy grey of winter still hung over the bare branches in Boston. She wondered at the flowers, grasses and shrubs that grew so much larger here than in New England, as if she had drunk from the same cup as Alice in Wonderland and found herself suddenly in a world a few sizes too big.

Instead, she said, “I’m going to kill the fucker who took my sister.”

Ben nodded. “That’s fair.”

They fell back into companionable silence until Clara’s phone startled them out of the reverie. “Hello?”

Carlisle’s crisp voice came through the phone when Clara put it on speaker. “Clara, we need you to come into the station. Bring Ben. We have a few more questions to ask you.”

“We can’t come in right now,” she said. “How about the morning?”

There was a pause on the line and then Carlisle asked suspiciously, “You’re in a car. Where are you going?” When Clara didn’t answer right away she said, “Ben? Where are you going?” Evidently the detective knew she was on speaker.

“Just a little drive up the coast,” he replied casually.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, her voice heavy with exasperation, “you’re headed for La Conner.”

“Excellent guess!” said Ben, unperturbed. “I thought Clara might want a look at the Northwestern countryside during her visit to the great state of Washington.”

“We sent a patrol car to the Perkinses’ country house the minute we knew they had one.”

“I’m sure you did,” said Ben implacably, “but a sheriff’s patrol can only snoop around so much and stay within the law.”

There was a long pause on the line. Carlisle couldn’t argue that the patrolmen had been very limited. She tried a different tactic. “Clara, is there any chance Maddy was thinking of selling Dovetail?”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not. She loves that place and is determined to make it a great success, which by all accounts it’s well on its way to being.”

“The large deposits into Maddy’s bank account came from Eddie Perkins,” said Carlisle bluntly. Their warrant for Maddy’s bank had come through and they now knew where the money had come from.

Clara looked desperately at Ben.
How did they know?
She said, “I’m positive there’s a reasonable explanation for it.”

“I’d love to hear it,” said Carlisle. She sighed in resignation, loudly enough to be audible through the tiny speaker. “We just brought Eddie in.”

“You’ve arrested him?” asked Clara a little too hopefully.

“Not yet, but he has a lot of explaining to do. The homicide dicks found evidence that he was indeed having an affair with Susan Burns and they have his prints on the murder weapon. But it’s all circumstantial and we have nothing yet linking him to Maddy’s disappearance.”

“What about the money he put in her bank account?”

Another long sigh from Carlisle. “Clara, can you think of any reason that Eddie would have given Maddy thirty-seven thousand dollars?”

“None at all,” said Clara with a little reluctance.

“Because right now,” said Carlisle cautiously, “that money makes it look more like a partnership or a payoff than a motive for kidnapping.”

Clara said nothing. She knew what it looked like and she knew that it wasn’t true, but she had no plausible alternative explanation.

Ben took Clara’s hand and said, “We might not have another explanation, but there has to be one. Maddy wouldn’t take a bribe; she isn’t Eddie’s ally in anything underhanded; she did not want to sell her restaurant. There
is
another explanation, we just have to keep looking for it.”

“Do that,” said Carlisle. “We will too, but we have to go where the evidence leads us, and right now it doesn’t look like your sister is completely innocent in all of this.”

Clara took a deep breath and said, “Detective Carlisle, we also found out that Michelle Perkins was married once before. Her husband was killed in a hit and run and she used the life insurance money to finance her move to Seattle.” She could feel a knot of guilt forming in her stomach even as she spoke the words. “Maybe it’s nothing, but Michelle never told Maddy about her first marriage and I wonder why.”

Carlisle took a moment to respond. “I’m not even going to ask how you know that. Was Michelle ever implicated in her husband’s death?”

“No,” said Ben. “But she specifically neglected to tell her best friend about a major event in her life. And that kind of omission is suspicious.”

“How do you know she didn’t tell your sister?”

“Because she would have told me. Plus, both of them referred to her marriage to Eddie as Michelle’s first.”

“Was she married in Washington State?”

“Colorado,” said Ben. “Denver.”

“Okay,” said Carlisle, “I’ll look into it. Now, I know I can’t keep you from checking out Eddie and Michelle’s country house, but be careful. There may be more people involved in this and they could be watching out for an intruder.” What she didn’t say was that the other “people” involved could be Maddy herself, and if they found something in that house, it might very well be something that Clara Gardner was not emotionally prepared to discover. “If I don’t hear from you in two hours, I’m going to call the local sheriff and if he finds you breaking and entering I’m going to let him arrest you both. Got it? You have two hours to check in.”

She hung up the phone and the car went silent. Ben was still holding Clara’s hand and now she leaned across the armrest and put her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of honey and citrus from her thick blonde hair. “Another half an hour and we’ll be there.”

“You know,” said Clara in a quiet voice, “Carlisle didn’t want to say it, but she’s afraid we’ll get there and Maddy will be sitting on a chaise longue on the back porch, admiring the view and sipping Dom Pérignon.”

“But we know she’s not.”