Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller (22 page)

“Then fifteen years ago her best friend from
college went on trial for murdering her husband.” Nelson glanced at
the information. “Her defense was that he had abused her repeatedly
over the years till she couldn’t take it anymore and snapped.
Carole Cranston testified on her behalf. A good lawyer got the
friend off, but the whole thing must have seemed like déjà vú to
Carole.”

Nina sipped her coffee, her mind racing. Best
friend? On trial for murdering her husband? Fifteen years ago? Got
away with it as a battered woman? It all had an eerie familiarity
to it.

She looked at Nelson. “You got a name for the
best friend?”

“Sure do.” He lifted a sheet of paper. “Let’s
see... Name’s Esther Reynolds.”

Nina’s eyes lit up as though she had come
face to face with an alien. Or perhaps the devil herself.

Nelson noticed. “Name ring a bell...?”

“You could say that,” Nina hummed, as some
disturbing pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit into place.
“Maybe a few bells—”

Nelson scratched his pate. “In case you’re
interested, Reynolds’ defense attorney was a dude by the name of
Stuart Wolfe. I understand he’s still practicing in the state—”

Stuart Wolfe?
The attorney with the
black BMW they visited.
Well, I’ll be damned.
Nina chewed on
that.

Could the killer have driven Stuart’s car
after all the night Blake Wallace was murdered? Perhaps that
someone was Esther Reynolds’ best friend and strong advocate
against domestic violence—the honorable judge Carole Cranston?

The plot thickens...

Nina felt the rush of adrenaline like wind at
her back. She feared that Barkley just might be caught smack dab in
the middle of it.

“So what’s going on in that pretty little
head of yours, Nina?” asked Nelson.

“I don’t think you want to know,” she told
him.

“Try me.”

Nina reluctantly tossed some of her theories
at Nelson regarding Carole Cranston as a possible serial killer,
leaving out Barkley’s unwitting involvement with her.

Nelson shook his head in amazement. “Man, if
any of this turns out to be true, you could be sitting on a damned
powder keg ready to explode—”

“Tell me about it,” she hissed. At the same
time, she didn’t want to have this thing blow up in her face.

Nina grabbed the folder and stood. Looking
down at Nelson, she said: “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait a minute,” he frowned. “What about
lunch?”

She pulled twenty-five dollars out of her
purse and put it in on a saucer. “It’s on me, sweetheart, tip and
all. You’ve earned it. See you around, Nelson. Thanks again!”

Nina left him sitting there while turning her
attention to Carole Cranston and the Vigilante Batterer Killer.

Were they one and the same?

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The law offices of Simmons, Wolfe, and
Whitehead were located on the tenth floor of a downtown high-rise.
Nina wasted no time flashing her identification at the startled
receptionist and insisting on speaking to Stuart Wolfe. She buzzed
him and Nina was directed to his office.

Stuart met her at the door, looking dapper in
a tailored dark suit. “Detective Parker,” he greeted her with a
strained smile. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Something’s come up,” Nina told him
succinctly.

“Oh?” There was the slightest bit of alarm in
his face. “Come in.”

She stepped into a corner office with a large
window overlooking the river. The mountains were also in view,
presenting a lovely picture.

At what price was the man’s success? Had he
sold his soul to the devil? Been a party, willing or otherwise, to
at least one murder and quite possibly a string of homicides?

Stuart buzzed his secretary and told her to
hold all his calls. Directing his attention to Nina, he asked
calmly: “So what’s this all about? Surely you don’t still suspect
that I had anything to do with Blake Wallace’s murder or that my
car was somehow involved?”

Nina regarded him shrewdly. “You tell
me...”

He looked befuddled. “Excuse me?”

“Why don’t you start by telling me about your
defending Esther Reynolds fifteen years ago after she killed her
husband?” Nina said straightforwardly. She watched him react with
surprise. “Then you might tell me about
Judge
Carole
Cranston’s testimony during the trial and what your relationship is
with these two women today. And last, I’d like to know if you think
either or both might be capable of committing these vengeance
murders that are sending shock waves throughout the city?”

Stuart looked as if he had been frozen with
his mouth half open. He stared at the questions for a moment or two
before saying languorously: “Please, sit down...”

Nina sat in a plush leather chair and watched
as Stuart sat opposite her. She removed a small tape recorder from
her purse and sat it on a walnut table between them.

“Hope you don’t mind?” she said.

“Actually, I do,” he said sternly. “I’ll
answer your questions, but
strictly
off the record.”

“Okay,” Nina muttered, expecting as much from
the clever attorney. She put the recorder back in her purse,
turning it on at the same time.

“I defended Esther Reynolds because I
believed she was justifiable in killing her husband,” Stuart said
evenly. “The man had beaten her senseless for years. She reached
the breaking point that day, feeling it was either him or her.”

“So like a knight in shining armor, you came
to the rescue and got her off on a charge of murder?”

“No, detective—it wasn’t quite like that,” he
responded tartly. “The
jury
got Ms. Reynolds off on
self-defense.”

“Thanks in large part, I assume, to Carole
Cranston’s testimony?” Nina peered at him as Ray crossed her
mind.

Stuart batted his eyes. “I’d be lying if I
said otherwise. Carole’s testimony was crucial to convincing the
jury just what type of monster Esther Reynolds was married to.” He
sighed. “Since you’re privy to this, I assume you also know that
the two women have known each other since college?”

“Best friends, I heard,” chirped Nina. Just
how closely knit was their camaraderie?

Without acknowledging this, Stuart said:
“Well, Carole...Judge Cranston witnessed the abuse on more than one
occasion and urged Esther to leave her husband. Unfortunately, by
the time she did, it was too late. He was too far gone in his
addiction to beating the living daylights out of her at his
whim.”

Nina chewed her lower lip. “Are you still in
touch with either Ms. Reynolds or Carole Cranston today?”
I
think I pretty much know the answer to this one.

Stuart hesitated. “Yes. I try to keep tabs on
all my clients.”

“But Carole Cranston was not your client.”
Nina gazed at him, one brow raised. “Was she?”

He crossed his legs nervously. “No, she
wasn’t. But Ms. Cranston is a judge now,” he said as if she didn’t
know. “And we run into each other from time to time in the
courtroom.”

Nina widened her eyes as she asked: “Were you
aware that the judge witnessed her mother being beaten to death at
the hands of her father?”

Stuart’s mouth tightened. “I’m not sure I
should answer that.”

“I think maybe you should,” she strongly
urged. “This is not an attorney-client privilege thing. And it
could be related to a murder investigation.”

He clasped his fingers. “All right. So I did
know. What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“She told you?” Nina pressed.

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “We became
friends and Carole thought I ought to know. There’s no crime in
that, detective.”

“Never said there was, sir. The crimes came
years later—like now.” Nina leaned toward him. “Were you and Carole
Cranston ever lovers?” she asked bluntly.

Stuart’s brow creased. “Now wait just a
damned minute,
Detective
Parker,” he blasted. “My
relationship with Carole Cranston is between her and me. I sure as
hell am not going to allow you to trample over my personal life—or
hers—for some sort of vicarious thrill! If you have anything else
to ask me about the case you’re working on, do it. If not, then
this meeting is over!”

So they had been lovers.
Nina read
between the lines. Perhaps they still were and possibly in bed for
conspiracy to commit murder against abusive men who hadn’t been
held accountable for their sins.

She doubted Barkley had any inkling about the
long-term relationship between Carole Cranston and the very married
Stuart Wolfe, whom Ray could be competing with for the judge’s
affections.

“I wasn’t trying to get into your pants,”
Nina made abundantly clear, “or business. Or, for that matter, the
judge’s sex life, per se. But I am trying to solve a number of
brutal murders and need to work every angle. For instance, I’d like
to know if you and Carole Cranston were still on friendly enough
terms that she may have been able to borrow your car—since she
doesn’t have one of her own—to go to that garage and beat to death
Blake Wallace.”

“That’s totally absurd!” Stuart insisted,
narrowing his eyes into slits. “Do you honestly think I’d allow my
car to be used by Carole Cranston—or anyone else—to commit
murder?”

Admittedly, Nina found it hard to fathom the
high-flying attorney risking it all under such circumstances. But
then, people did all types of unfathomable things when it came to
love, lust, or past fond memories.

She sucked in a deep breath. “In that case,
I’m sure you won’t mind if we dust the car for prints and look for
other evidence to indicate it may have been a party to one or more
murders?”

“You’re welcome to,” he said, regaining his
cool demeanor. “You won’t find anything. There’s nothing there to
find.”

She stared at him, wondering if he was he
that confident or simply misguided.

“That notwithstanding,” Stuart added, upon
further reflection, “I think it’s probably a good idea if you bring
along a search warrant. I assume you and Detective Barkley have
enough credible reasons and cause to convince a judge?”

Nina suspected Stuart Wolfe knew this part
would be an uphill battle. All she really had at this point were
some rather loose circumstantial factors, at best, and her gut
instincts. But the fact that he was exercising this option made her
even more suspicious.

“I think we have what we need to do just
that,” she said assertively. “If it’s a search warrant you want,
then you’ll have it.”

Stuart stood up, glaring at her. “Your case
is headed in the wrong direction, Detective Parker,” he blared. “If
you seriously expect to be able to pin this vigilante killer rap on
Carole Cranston or Esther Reynolds, then you’re sadly mistaken.
These women, for all their past grief and victimization, should be
applauded for the contributions they’ve made to society, not
vilified by people who are supposed to be on their side of the
street!”

Nina knew from the look in his eyes that
those people
included women like her, who also happened to
be an officer of the law. She felt slightly guilty, as though she
had turned her back on African-American women who were trying to do
some real good. But in reality, she knew this wasn’t about
sisterhood or strides within the black community. It was about
murder, plain and simple, and doing her job to see to it that a
vindictive killer was brought to justice, even if she had to step
on a few tender toes along the way.

Nina stood and met Stuart Wolfe’s hardened
gaze head on. “All I can say, Counselor, is that I honestly hope
you’re right about these upstanding women. I wouldn’t want to see
either end up behind bars as serial killers. But if you’re wrong,
then it’s up to
this
woman to get a killer off the streets
before she sets her sights on another target to murder.”

Neither of them gave any ground in their
positions, staring each other down as if to blink might somehow
lessen the resolve.

At the door, Nina added as an afterthought:
“By the way, Mr. Wolfe, I’d suggest you keep your attorney handy.
You just might need him—”

In the corridor, she shut off the tape
recorder, and deliberated.

* * *

It was half past four when Nina arrived back
at the station. Her journey had yielded some surprising and
disturbing results. Now came the hard part.

Nina found Ray in his office doing paperwork,
the one thing all cops dreaded most. Next to counting dead bodies
due to murder. She wondered how to tell him what she had dug up
without his knowledge or consent and what the fallout might be.

I’ll just have to take my lumps and hope we
can get beyond this.

“What the hell are you doing here, Parker?”
Ray asked, surprised. “If I’m not mistaken, didn’t you take the
afternoon off after coming down with something?” He gave her a
worried look. “Hope you didn’t think I couldn’t do without your
bitching for even half a day?”

Nina made no attempt to even smile at his
halfhearted effort at humor. “I do feel somewhat sick to my
stomach,” she told him. “But it has nothing to do with something I
ate.”

Ray cocked a brow. “So what does it have to
do with?”

She breathed in deeply. “Carole
Cranston—”

“Carole...” His voice stopped on a dime.

Nina closed the door. She took the tape
recorder from her purse and sat it on his desk. Gazing at her
partner, she said solemnly: “You need to listen to this. Then we
need to talk—”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Carole took advantage of the overcast, cool
afternoon to run. It also gave her time to think about the
direction her life was headed. Things between her and Ray had
reached a point where she believed they might actually have a
future. One that could include a committed relationship, love and
devotion, or possibly even marriage—though both had been down that
road before and were not likely to jump into something on a
whim.