Liars, Cheaters & Thieves (22 page)

“What else can you tell me about Rafel? His sister Sasha seems to think he was a terrific guy.”

“He could be charming, I grant you that. I liked him at first. He seemed so respectful of women. Opening doors, never swearing in front of females, very protective. But it’s all a mask for deep-rooted distrust. Maybe it’s from feeling abandoned by his mother.” Laura looked away. “Or maybe it’s the Islamic background.”

“Rafel was Muslim? His sister said they weren’t religious.”

“They’re not. But Rafel’s father, Zain Mazari, was born in Pakistan and raised as a Muslim until his parents died and he came to the United States to live with an uncle. The uncle was Americanized and raised him with a mix of cultural traditions, which he passed on to his children. So Rafel may not have been overly religious, but he had some embedded old-world ideas about women.”

“What are you saying? You believe Joanna’s death was an honor killing?”

“Some version of it, yes.”

Sophie was skeptical. If she had been shot or strangled, it would be easier to swallow.
But yellow jackets?
“I didn’t think honor killing was that widespread. I thought it was only practiced in small pockets, within tribes and families.”

Laura was silent.

“Do you have a photo of Rafel and Joanna? A digital file would be best.”

“Sorry, I only have some prints.”

“I’d love to take one with me. I’ll scan it and mail it back to you.”

Laura looked uncertain. “The photos are all I have left of Joanna.”

“I understand. I’ll just take a picture of the picture.”

“No, I’ll give you one. I never look at pictures of them together.” Laura retrieved an envelope from the back of a photo album, sorted through the stack, and handed her a print.

Sophie stared, rather stunned. Joanna had blonde hair, wide-spaced blue eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and abundant sensual lips. She looked so much like Sierra’s Facebook photo they could have been sisters.

CHAPTER 22

After hours at the homicide scene, feeling like they’d accomplished next to nothing, Jackson assigned Schak to round up Pittman’s bank, credit card, and phone records, which likely wouldn’t happen until Monday. In the meantime, Schak would look for Cody Sawyer. They either needed to bring him in for another round of questioning or keep an eye on him in case he was next on the killer’s list. Jackson sent Evans to the jail to question Sierra again and ask specifically about her relationships with Pittman and Sawyer. It often took several interrogations for a suspect to admit to an affair.

Jackson worried that the second, similar killing while Sierra was incarcerated would cast doubt on whether she had committed the murder of her husband. At least that’s what a good defense lawyer would argue, and he might be right. But despite their connections, the homicides were distinct and looked like the work of different people. The long hair found on Pittman’s back was
unusual, Jackson thought, but it could have belonged to a lover or a prostitute and be irrelevant to the case.

He left the crime scene, driving past the onlookers and the KLSR news van. It no longer surprised him how quickly the media heard about a homicide and sent a reporter with a camera. They usually only managed to get distant shots of the house and the activity in front, but TV reporters needed footage for the viewers and would settle for anything.

He was headed to see Hailey Pittman, Jake’s former wife. If their divorce wasn’t final yet, she was technically his widow and his heir. She was also likely the person who knew the victim best and would know who else to notify. Her address on Concord in the Barger area seemed like it would be easy to find, but the street stopped and started, and it took him a few tries to find the right section. Now that his house had sold, he vowed to buy a GPS unit for his vehicle since the department couldn’t afford one.

Several cars were parked in front of the bright-yellow house, and his gut tightened. Hailey had company, making this situation more complicated and emotional. He was not only here to inform her of her estranged husband’s death, but also to question her. As polite as it would be to wait for a better time, it was also counterproductive. Every hour of delay gave the killer time to hide evidence, set up an alibi, and possibly leave town.

Jackson rang the doorbell and suddenly had a nagging sense that he was forgetting something. Loud laughter came from inside the house—the cheerful sound of women enjoying each other’s company.
Oh crap.
This was the absolute worst part of his job, but as much as he’d like to, he never assigned it to anyone else.

A thirty-something woman with a narrow but attractive face opened the door. Her smile disappeared the moment she saw him.

“Hailey Pittman?”

“Yes.” Her lower lip trembled, and he noticed she had ash-blonde hair that fell below her shoulders.

Was that her hair on Jake Pittman’s back?
“Detective Jackson, Eugene Police. I need to talk to you in private.”

She glanced back at the two women in her living room, then stared at Jackson, as if trying to read his mind. “We’ll go in the study.”

While Jackson stood in the foyer, probably looking as grim as he felt, Hailey whispered to the women, who cast furtive glances at him. With a quick nod, she moved down the hall and Jackson followed. The back bedroom had been converted into an office, with a sliding-glass door leading into the yard. Jackson sat and willed himself to be patient, to not rush this because it made him uncomfortable.

“I understand you moved out of the home you shared with your husband, Jake Pittman, several months ago. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Her eyes blinked rapidly. “Why?”

“Have you filed for divorce?”

“Yes, but it won’t be final until next month. What’s going on?” Her voice pitched higher.

“We went to question Jake this morning, and I’m very sorry to tell you that we found him dead.”

She took a quick gulp of air, then sat perfectly still, eyes closed, breathing deeply. After a moment, Hailey sobbed a few times, then caught herself. “I don’t want to cry for him.” She went still again, and Jackson gave her a moment to do whatever meditation or self-talk she needed.

Finally, she asked, “What happened?”

“The evidence indicates he was assaulted.” He was always careful about releasing details, even to the widow.

“I knew he was into something stupid or dangerous. That’s why I left him. Well, that’s one of the reasons.”

“Do you know who might have killed him?”

“No.” She gave a tiny shake, then looked down.

“Please tell me about Jake’s activities.” Jackson wanted to get more out of her before he mentioned the loud truck. Her new boyfriend could have been the one driving it. In any death, he’d learned to suspect the spouse or the third member of a love triangle.

“I don’t know much. He was very secretive in the months before I left. And he suddenly seemed to have money, but he didn’t have enough work to explain it.” Hailey shifted in her chair. The subject clearly made her uncomfortable.

“Did he talk about the money?”

“No.”

“What did he say when you asked him about it?”

“He would say he’d done a job for someone. Cut down a tree or did some landscaping, but sometimes he didn’t look dirty or sweaty. He looked guilty and irritable with me for asking.”

“Do you know anything about the Veterans Relief Fund?”

Hailey’s eyes registered recognition. “I heard him mention it once on the phone. I think he was talking to Rafel.” Her face crumpled. “Is that why Rafel was killed too? Were they stealing from someone?” She burst into tears.

Jackson willed himself to wait it out. He knew what it was like to process the news of someone’s murder. It could take a while to sink in and become real.

One of her friends called from the other side of the closed door, “Hailey, are you all right? Should I come in?”

Jackson opened the door, gave her a brief update, then asked her to return to the living room. Hailey was under control when he sat back down.

“Where were you last night between eight and midnight?”

A startled noise escaped her lips. “I had dinner with my parents. We played cards afterward until ten o’clock, then I came
home.” She met his eyes, showing him she wasn’t bothered by his question, despite her initial reaction.

Jackson wanted to believe her, but part of him wondered if she was involved in the fraud ring. Had the wives killed their husbands to silence them? “Did you and Jake have a joint bank account when you were together?”

“We did, but we also had separate savings. We were both putting equal money into the joint account, then Jake lost his job. He started his own business, but he didn’t make much money.”

“Did you ever see the bank statements for his personal account?”

“No.”

“Do you own this home?”

“No. I live here with my friend, Lisa. Jake and I sold the home we owned after our son died. We lived in a rental after that, thinking we’d buy another house someday, but then the recession hit.”

“Last night, a neighbor heard someone say to Jake, ‘I’ll never forgive you.’ Do you have any idea what that’s about?”

“No. I’m sorry.” Hailey twisted the corner of her sweater. “Jake was a good man, a proud soldier. But then he did a tour in Iraq, and when he came back he was forgetful and sometimes angry for no reason. He got counseling and started to get better, then our son got sick and died of cancer. It was horrible.” Tears rolled freely down Hailey’s face, and she struggled for control.

“I’m sorry about your son.” Jackson couldn’t imagine how that would feel as a parent, and now was not a good time to think about it. He looked down and scribbled notes as fast as he could.

Haltingly, she continued. “We were both depressed for about a year, but we pulled through. Then the recession hit and Jake lost his job. It was like the last straw. Something inside him snapped, and he became a stranger to me. He started going to the bar with his friends and drinking every day. Then suddenly he had cash to
spend, and it made me suspicious. We fought a lot and I finally left him.”

“We didn’t find any paperwork in the house. No bank statements, no personal documents. Did Jake keep a safe-deposit box?”

“No, but he shredded papers all the time. He was a little paranoid.”

“Did he have a computer?”

“I gave him a laptop, but I don’t think he used it much.”

“Do you know where the laptop might be?”

She looked puzzled. “If it’s not in the house, I have no clue.”

“Did you ever hear of the group Territory Defenders?”

“No.”

“Did Jake have explosives in the house?”

Hailey jerked back, eyes wide. “Not that I ever knew. He had a handgun, but that was it.”

They hadn’t found any weapons in their search. One more throwaway question. “Was Jake having an affair with Sierra Kent?”

“No way.” She pursed her lips. “Jake didn’t think Sierra was good for Rafel. In fact, he really didn’t like her.”

“Which one of Jake’s acquaintances drives a loud, light-colored truck?”

Concern flashed across Hailey’s face. “Why?”

“Just tell me.”

“His ex-boss, Matthew Dolan. He owns Evergreen Landscaping.”

“What was Jake’s relationship with Dolan?”

“They used to be friends. After the layoff, Matt cosigned a loan for Jake so he could buy some equipment to start his own tree-cutting business. But Jake had trouble making the payments.” Her shoulders slumped. “Matt eventually paid off the loan so it wouldn’t ruin his credit.”

“So Matt had hard feelings toward Jake?”

She nodded.

“Did he ever threaten him?”

“Not physically. He said he planned to take him to small-claims court. But I left Jake soon after that, so I don’t know what happened.”

“Where can we find Matthew Dolan?”

“He lives on Silver Lane, off River Road. He runs his business out of his home.” Hailey scooted to the edge of her chair and leaned toward Jackson. “I can’t believe Matt would kill him. Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”

“Do you know Matt personally?”

“I went to a couple of backyard parties at his house. He seemed nice.”

“Do you know Jake’s family?”

“Only his mother is here in Oregon, but yes, I know her.”

“Will you give me her contact information?” Talking to the victim’s mother was worthwhile because she might know about his recent activities. Jackson took a business card from his jacket and handed it to the widow. “Please call me if you have any questions or think of anything I should know.”

He nodded at the women in the living room as he left the house. In his car, he called headquarters and asked the desk clerk to run Matthew Dolan and his business through the database. Jackson learned his suspect had no criminal record, except a marijuana possession twelve years earlier. The desk clerk described him as “five-nine, one-eighty, with a wide forehead, reddish-blond hair, and a mustache.” Dolan’s landline and business number were the same.

Jackson called it, and a female voice answered. “Dolan residence and Evergreen Landscaping. How can I help you?”