It Takes Two to Strangle (19 page)

Gerry would pass along Jim’s bank fraud story to the police’s financial crime unit. Damon asked if the police had made any progress in tracking down Lirim’s venture capitalist contacts in Florida.

“There were some phone numbers Anbani’s deputies found in a file cabinet in Lirim’s West Virginia home,” Gerry said. “But they were all linked to pre-paid cell phones registered under phony names.”

“Will you have Sheriff Anbani check into Mountaineer Carnivals for registration of a black vehicle?” Damon asked, filling his coffee cup from a cordless percolator.

“No need,” replied Gerry. His cheeks flushed—he had good news to relay and wanted to relish the moment. “Victor McElroy owned a black SUV and he says Lirim used it to murder his wife.”

Damon took in the information and watched Gerry watching him. “Very convenient that a dead man murdered Tabby,” Damon said.

“Agreed. But now Anbani has officially moved Tabby’s death from an accident to a suspicious death. I’ll get to that part, but let me start at the beginning.”

Trina came in with a plate of store-bought lemon pastries, set it between the men, who were seated across the table from each other, and withdrew wordlessly.

“On Tuesday morning, the Front Royal police delivered Victor to the sheriff’s station in Morgantown,” Gerry said. “The Fairmont sheriff’s office is under construction and given our background on the case, Anbani and I were handling the interrogation while Margaret and the Fairmont sheriff listened in. Victor declined legal representation.” Gerry bit into a pastry and licked crumbs from his fingers. “We started by setting the photocopies of Hannah Roscoph on the table in front of him. Victor denied ever seeing them. So we played the recording we made of Hannah, which pointed to Victor as the photographer. We pushed him hard, insisting that we’d be going after full kidnapping and distribution of child pornography charges if he didn’t admit to snapping the photos.”

“I bet he was sweating when he heard the tape.”

“That’s an understatement. After almost an hour, Victor admitted to taking the pictures, but said that he had been victimized by Lirim. He said it was Lirim who kidnapped the girl and made the sales. He took the Polaroids but only because Lirim threatened to kill him if he didn’t participate.”

“Do you believe that?” Damon asked.

“I believe Lirim brought the girl to the mobile home by himself because that’s what Hannah said. As for who made the sales, we’ll see how many customers we can find. And Anbani will interview the men who approached Sheriff Greely fifteen years ago if he can identify them. But Victor said sales were almost non-existent—according to Lirim, that is. He said the only people he knew who bought photocopies from Lirim were a vendor who sold carnival prizes in bulk and a maintenance worker at one of the community centers that doubled as a fairground.”

“And Sheriff Greely?”

“Victor said he had no idea. We didn’t want to press him and have him change his mind on a lawyer, so we let it go for now.”

“What about other girls?”

“Victor insisted there were no others. It was a one-time incident. Lirim had heard the carnival prize vendor talking about how it was nearly impossible to get his hands on materials of that type, and Lirim saw it as a potential stream of revenue. He knew of an eleven-year-old girl, and he had at least one potential buyer. My guess is that between a lack of buyers and the significant risk, Lirim moved on after Hannah Roscoph.”

“Especially after the Morgantown locals went to the sheriff.”

“Exactly. Lirim probably thought he was the luckiest person on Earth when he convinced the sheriff to look the other way. I suspect we’ll never know if the sheriff wanted photos in exchange for his silence or if Lirim had some dirt on him. Greely passed away several years ago.”

“The sickest part about all of this,” Damon replied, “is that Lirim had a daughter almost the same age as Hannah.”

“Agreed,” said Gerry. “But for Lirim, I don’t think that photographing Hannah was anything other than a means to an end. No different than finding Jim Riley a crooked accountant.”

“Then why would he keep the originals and a couple of sets of copies?”

“He may have thought the threat of exposing the photos publicly would thwart Hannah if he ever found out she intended to tell the police.”

Damon looked into his coffee cup, then stood and reached to the end of the table where Trina had thoughtfully left his wine glass and the bottle of table wine. He poured himself a generous portion. It was only his second glass of the night.

“Tell me about Victor’s black SUV,” Damon said and sat back down.

Trina had also left out a clear glass pitcher of water that resembled the classic shape of the Kool-Aid man. Gerry poured himself a tall glass. Damon reflected on how fortunate Gerry was to have Trina and found himself craving a similar comfort.

“Ravi Anbani’s deputies found two vehicles registered to Victor McElroy, both in Virginia. He has an old Chevy Caprice and a ten-year-old black Chevy Tahoe.”

 
“A Tahoe is pretty large, isn’t it?” Damon asked.

“It is, my friend. We also checked all of Lirim’s vehicles, both under his own name and that of Big Surf. He has a fleet, including all of the mobile homes and hauling trailers. One that didn’t garner our attention initially is a flatbed tow truck. But according to Victor, Lirim murdered his wife and then used both Victor’s Tahoe and the flatbed to arrange a bogus accident scene.”

“And Victor was nowhere in the vicinity, I assume,” Damon said facetiously.

“That’s what he said, but I don’t buy it. Either way, we pounded the basics of his story out of him. He thinks it will get him leniency on the child abuse charges that he knows are coming.”

“Will it?”

“I doubt it, but that’s for the prosecutors in West Virginia to decide.”

“I’m still surprised he admitted that his truck was involved in killing Tabby.”

“He thought about it a good long time before he admitted to it. Margaret had stepped into the interview room, jabbed a finger in Victor’s face and told him the police were running the paint on Victor’s SUV against black paint recovered a year and a half ago from Tabby’s crushed Cavalier. Our lab techs do match paint samples, but there’s no way Anbani still has the Cavalier in his impound lot given that it was ruled an accident. But the threat was enough to squirrel a story out of Victor.”

Gerry dipped a thumb and forefinger into his water glass, removed a lemon slice and sucked it between his teeth. “Victor said that a few days before Tabby died, he and Lirim went to Roanoke to look at some equipment being sold off piecemeal by a carnival operator retiring from the business. It was off season so they drove separately from their respective homes. Lirim took a sedan and Victor drove the black Tahoe. They purchased some equipment that would fit in the Tahoe but not the sedan. Lirim wanted to refurbish it, so Victor says they exchanged vehicles. They planned to swap the vehicles back a couple of weeks later when they had another trip scheduled.”

“Why would Lirim take a sedan to buy equipment that didn’t fit in it?” Damon asked.

“I have no idea and neither did Victor. Anbani asked him that exact question.”

Damon nodded. “So according to Victor, he wasn’t in Morgantown when Tabby died, but his SUV was.”

“That’s his story.”

“But if Victor wasn’t in Morgantown, how does he know she wasn’t killed in a car accident?”

“He said Lirim told him the truth because when they re-swapped vehicles, the front end of the Tahoe was smashed.”

Gerry twisted the gold cross at the end of his thin necklace and continued. “According to Victor, Lirim told him that Tabby found a stash of photos of Hannah Roscoph. Tabby didn’t want to turn him in to the police but planned to remove Lirim as an after-death beneficiary of her trust principal. Lirim confided to Victor that he couldn’t get a proper read on Tabby. He didn’t know if she’d follow through on her threat to change her will or if she’d change her mind and inform the police. For Lirim, killing his wife would solve both problems.”

“She obviously didn’t rush to change the will if she died almost two weeks after she found the photos,” Damon said.

“I bet Lirim was watching her like a hawk. But still, if Lirim met Victor in Roanoke just before she died, Tabby would have had at least a day on her own to consult with a lawyer.”

Gerry poured another glass of water for himself. Damon continued to take tiny sips of the wine already in his glass. “When Lirim told Victor he killed Tabby, he supplied plenty of detail,” Gerry said. “Tabby didn’t sneak out for a late night drive—Lirim killed her right in their house. While she was sleeping, he smothered her with a pillow. Lirim either looked up asphyxiation online or got lucky. Smothering leaves only minor external indicators, so as long as the police at the accident scene didn’t call in a medical examiner, they wouldn’t be able to tell how she really died.”

“So Lirim faked an accident to cover murdering Tabby in their own bed,” Damon said.

“That’s the story we were told. Lirim drove Tabby’s Cavalier around the back of the house in Cheat Lake and left the engine running so the airbag would deploy. Then he put her dead body in the front seat and left off her seat belt. That would make her death by car crash more believable.” Gerry was tugging hard now at the cross around his neck. “Lirim climbed into Victor’s black Tahoe and drove as fast as he could into the Cavalier, causing the airbag to explode into Tabby’s lifeless face.”

“It must have given Lirim a pretty big jolt.”

 
“I’m sure it did. Lirim’s back yard is almost a full acre of packed dirt so he could have gotten going pretty fast. After crushing the Cavalier, Lirim hoisted it onto the flatbed and drove it to the road where Simon Chenter found it on his way to work a few hours later.”

“Pretty big risk if he was seen in the tow truck.”

“Maybe not,” Gerry said. “It was well past midnight and on rural back roads. Lirim probably threw a blanket over the body. Also, those flatbed style tow trucks are raised high off the ground so her body wouldn’t have been at eye-level to a car passing in the other direction.”

Damon thought for a minute. He put the wine glass to his lips but set it back down without drinking. “I’m trying to figure out Victor’s motives. Why provide you with so much detail?”

“My guess is that he didn’t plan on saying anything. But once Victor felt cornered into admitting that his SUV was on the scene because of the paint, I think he wanted to dictate a clean story that he could control. That way, even if we could link his truck to the incident, the only person who could refute his account is Lirim. And he’s dead.”

“Okay, but I still see one main problem with Victor’s story,” Damon said. “Why would Lirim go through all of the trouble to get Victor’s Tahoe to Morgantown but then turn around and tell Victor he used it to kill Tabby? If Lirim didn’t want to use one of his own vehicles, that makes sense. And maybe he wanted to use Victor’s SUV in case he needed to blackmail Victor later.”

“Or frame him,” Gerry interjected.

“Right. Either way, I can see why he wanted Victor’s truck. But why would Lirim proceed to tell Victor what he had done and with that level of detail? Why not just fix the truck himself? He was able to fix all of his carnival equipment.”

“We’re on the same page, Damon. That’s exactly why Margaret and I think Victor was in Morgantown with Lirim when Tabby was killed. Even if he didn’t have the right parts to do the bodywork, Lirim could have just told Victor that he was in an accident himself.”

“Exactly,” Damon said. “I’d be shocked if Victor wasn’t involved. He was involved with Hannah Roscoph even though Lirim could have handled that scheme by himself.”

Gerry nodded his agreement.

“And Lirim’s killer?” Damon asked.

“We know a whole lot more about Lirim’s back story, but that’s all so far.”

“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a connection.”

“Me too. It’s just a matter of finding it. I’m going to cull through all of my notes and documents and see if there’s something I’m missing. I grilled Victor about Lirim’s death again but couldn’t find out anything we didn’t already know.”

Damon wished Gerry good luck with his files and left him to recover from his arduous but fruitful two days in Morgantown.

Chapter 18

David Einstaff was on their shared front porch when Damon arrived home. It was fairly late, even for David to be out.

Damon greeted him pleasantly. “How are you, David?”

The older man had been staring at his shoes and looked up. Even before he spoke, Damon could see that David had consumed more than his typical evening allotment of whiskey. “Damon, I’m not doing too well to be honest with you.”

Damon sat in the green plastic patio chair beside David and asked him what was wrong.

“I think I’m sinking into a mild depression, Damon. I’m having trouble finding pleasure in life right now.”

He picked up a fresh cigarette and brought it to his lips by force of habit but remembered his company and set it down again. Damon waited for him to continue. “I had a reasonably happy life—a wife, three kids and a couple of cats in the suburbs. I’m a wastewater engineer at a small firm here in Arlington. Not exciting, but I’ve done solid work for thirty years. After the last of my kids went to college, my wife and I started nitpicking each other over simple things. Things that each of us had already been doing for years, but all of a sudden, rather than overlook them, we castigated each other. Our divorce became final three weeks ago.”