Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 6) (28 page)

Chapter 11

T
he sex dungeon reminded me of something out of a horror movie. Creepy as hell!

In the middle of the large room stood what looked like an old-fashioned operating table made of steel and iron. No blankets or pillows. Different types of ropes and whips were hanging from hooks on the walls. In one corner, suspended from the ceiling, was a rope with a noose dangling at the end. Atop a rustic wooden table were all manner of menacing devices.

Kristina circled the operating table with interest, as if she were inspecting a piece of furniture that she was considering buying. “He bought this on eBay last month. Paid several grand for it, in fact. Apparently it came from an insane asylum in Arizona that shut down in the 1950’s.”

“Mind if I take some pictures?” I showed her my cell phone.

“Be my guest. Just as long as you don’t take any of me.”

She stood to the side as I took a few shots of the whole room. “What about Julian’s family?” I asked.

“Not around here. His mom died giving birth to him so his dad raised him. Julian’s an only child.”

“Where does his dad live?”

“Florida. They don’t have a close relationship.”

“Getting back to Julian’s ex-wives, do you know what happened to his first wife? She died just a few months after they were married, right?”

Kristina’s face went blank as if that question had struck a nerve. “I don’t know all the details. Julian told me it was an accident. She slipped in the bathtub and hit her head. Julian wasn’t home when it happened.”

In one of the close-up shots I noticed an item under the operating table, so small I almost missed it. I crouched down to get a better look. “Hey, are you missing an earring?”

She crouched beside me and squinted at the item, just inches from my finger. She reached out and grabbed it, then held it close to her face to inspect. “No. I told you I’ve never spent time in this room. Looks like a real diamond, though.”

“Mind if I hold on to it?” I asked. “If it belongs to Sandra Dotson, it might explain a possible motive for Julian’s murder.”

Kristina didn’t seemed convinced. “Are you done with the pictures? I’d prefer to not spend any more time in this room than is necessary.”

“Yeah, I’m done here. Thanks for letting me do this.”

Back upstairs in the kitchen, she took my glass and placed it in the sink, a subtle hint that it was time for me to go. Her sudden coldness seemed a direct result of the earring discovery.

I looked her straight in the eye. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Kristina. Do you know who this earring belongs to?”

“No. But ...something just occurred to me. I forgot all about it until now.” She sat on the stool with the ring of keys in her lap, evading my stare. Finally, she removed another key from the ring and placed it on the counter between us. It was much smaller than the rest of the keys, and a weird shape. “I think you should take this.”

“What does it go to?’ I asked.

“There’s a safe that he keeps in his office downtown. A couple of weeks ago, Julian got drunk and started going on about some ridiculous business. A confession of sorts. I hadn’t taken him seriously then, but now...I had forgotten about it until now.”

I waited for her to continue.

She cleared her throat, nervously. “Look, I know Julian kept a lot of secrets from me. He kept secrets from everyone. To be honest, I don’t want to know what’s in that safe. I’m done thinking about it. I just want this mess to be over. I know that probably sounds selfish and heartless, but you have no idea how complicated Julian was. I’m done dealing with his drama.”

“Did he give you any clue as to what’s in the safe?”

“It’s probably a sex tape or nude photos of someone. Or maybe some dirt on one of his colleagues. Whatever it is, he was worried the wrong person might find it.”

“But he didn’t tell you.”

“No. I’d rather not go there. Can’t stand his colleagues at his work. They’re a bunch of fakes, and I’ve never cared for them. I’m pretty sure he was boning his secretary, too. Such a cliché.”

Since she had removed the small key from the ring and placed it on the counter, I assumed she wanted me to take it. “You didn’t mention any of this to the detective.”

“Like I said, it only occurred to me just now. It might not be pertinent to his death.”

“In a murder investigation, everything is pertinent.” I took the key, “but I’ll check it out if you want me to.”

“Give it to the cops or don’t.”

I didn’t understand why she trusted me, but I wasn’t going to back down. “How late will his office be open tonight?”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s after six, so I doubt anyone’s there. I’ll give them a call and tell them you’ll be stopping by first thing in the morning. Just to avoid the hassle.”

She speed dialed a number on her cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Kristina cleared her throat and said, “Hello Jessica, it’s Kristina Pike. I’m calling to let you know that someone will be by first thing in the morning to collect a few personal items from my husband’s office. I hope this won’t be a problem and thanks for your cooperation.”

“One last question, if you don’t mind?” I said.

She made a vague gesture for me to proceed.

“How many times did you go with Julian to the swing parties?”

She took a moment, apparently thinking it over. “Probably half a dozen times, why?”

“Did you enjoy it? Or did Julian pressure you to go?”

“I didn’t mind. It was kind of fun at first. After a while I realized that it wasn’t my scene.”

“What’s your impression of Zeb Nichols?”

An odd expression crossed her face. “What you’re really asking is, do I think he murdered my husband?”

“Did Zeb and Julian get along? Was there any animosity between them?”

Kristina rolled her eyes. “These are the same questions that the detective grilled me with this morning. Julian had a knack of rubbing people the wrong way, in every sense of that term. Most people in his life wanted to kill him for one reason or another. I don’t have enough time and energy to go down the long list.”

I could see I wasn’t going to get a straight answer about Zeb, and I could tell that Kristina had reached the end of her rope. “I should go and let you get some rest. I really appreciate your talking with me. I’ll give you a call tomorrow when we find out what’s inside the safe.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to know.” She walked me to the door without another word.

Sitting in my car, I took a deep breath, called the detective, and prayed he wouldn’t ream me out for visiting Julian’s wife on my own.

Chapter 12

W
hen I got home later that evening, my younger half-brother, Andrew, was sitting in the kitchen, having a beer with Carter. He had recently moved to Bridgeport to be closer to his dad and me. Since he was in between jobs, he had time on his hands and was often looking for things to do. He’d pop by every few days to hear about the cases we were working on.

“Sit down and take a load off,” Andrew said to me, handing me a cold bottle. “I brought some Chinese take-out, if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks. I’d like to have a drink first.” I joined the guys at the table and kicked off my shoes.

Andrew leaned close to me and held his hand up for me to slap it. “High five for getting the bullseye at target practice, by the way. Carter told me.”

I slapped his hand. “Yeah, well, target practice is one thing. In a real life situation, I wonder if I’d be calm enough to hit a hot air balloon ten feet away.”

“So, I guess now you have to get one of those ankle holsters to keep your pistol in a safe spot.”

“Nah,” I said. “I’ll just tuck it inside the waist of my jeans.”

Andrew seemed confused. “Why would you do that? The bad guys will see it poking out.”

He spoke as if he had experience with such things when, in actuality, he was an accountant. I decided to indulge my brother with a little show and tell. I removed my gun from my purse, stood up and slipped it inside my waist band of my jeans, under my shirt in the back. I raised my hands and did a full circle. “Now tell me honestly, can you tell I’m packing?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not with that baggy shirt.”

“I’ll show you my little trick.” I removed the gun and lifted my shirt. “See this little pocket I sewed to my jeans?”

Andrew inspected the pocket and chuckled. “You did that?”

“Yeah. Pretty cool, huh? The barrel fits nice and snug. This little guy isn’t going to fall out unless someone lifts me upside down and shakes me.”

Andrew slapped Carter’s arm. “Did you tell her to do that?”

Carter raised his hands. “Nope. It was all her idea.”

Andrew turned back to me, still sporting a dubious expression. “Well, aren’t you afraid the thing will go off? It could shoot your ass off.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “Please. If the safety is on, it’s not going to shoot my ass off.”

Andrew was getting quite a kick out this, I could tell. I guess I couldn’t blame him. Even I had a hard time believing this was my life.

Sarah Woods: a bona fide, gun-slinging chick.

“I’ll bet Carter wears an ankle holster,” Andrew said. “You used to be a cop. All cops wear holsters, am I right?”

“I used to,” Carter said, with a straight face. “Until I noticed little barrel sized pockets had been sewn into all my jeans.”

Andrew roared with laughter, his face turning beet red. I thought beer was going to come out of his nose he laughed so hard.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I said, “You joke around now, but just you wait and see. Someday my little pockets will come in handy. And then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

Once Andrew calmed down, he asked, “So, did you guys hear about that lawyer who croaked last night? The reporter said it was erotic asphyxiation. It happened at a swing party, can you believe it? How embarrassing.”

When Carter and I made no comment, Andrew figured it out. “Is that the new case you guys are working on? C’mon, you gotta share.”

I shook my head. “We’re not officially on the case, but we are involved. We’re not really allowed to talk about the details.”

He made a pouty face. “As if I’m going to say anything.”

Carter flashed me a warning glance, and I knew I couldn’t give in to Andrew’s taunting.  I made the motion of zipping my lips shut and he got the message.

“Fine,” he said, hands up in surrender. “I get it. It’s top secret, and I’m way below the pay grade.”

* * *

When Andrew left our house around eight, I was exhausted, but I wanted to show Carter the pictures I’d taken of Julian’s sex dungeon. I couldn’t very well do that with Andrew hanging around.

Carter winced as he flipped through the photos on my cell phone. “Hard to believe that anyone could get turned on by torture. What did James say when you called him?”

“He wasn’t thrilled that I had gone to Kristina on my own, but he seemed curious about the earring. I sent him all the photos.”

“Did you tell him about Julian’s safe?”

“Yeah. He’s going to meet us over at the law office first thing in the morning.”

Carter went behind my chair and began massaging my neck. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to melt into his hands.

“Before Andrew showed up tonight, I made some calls while I was digging into Zeb’s past,” he said. “I got some of the details of his arrest back in 2012. It happens to involve Madeline and the prostitution business.”

“Don’t tell me he got rough with one of the girls.”

“No. With one of the customers. He was a regular of Madeline’s, guy by the name of Richard Brown. Richard got carried away with Madeline one night. Gave her a black eye and a few broken ribs. When Zeb found out, he went ballistic. He put Mr. Brown in the hospital with a broken arm and collarbone. The guy pressed charges, and Zeb was arrested, but for whatever reason, the cops couldn’t exactly prove that Zeb was involved.”

“So, he walked?”

“Yep.”

“Well, it certainly makes sense why Zeb would have no qualms about killing Julian because he got rough with Madeline the week before.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Unfortunately, it seems like Zeb is very good at covering his tracks. I’d like to know how he got Sandra Dotson to lie for him about his alibi.”

All of a sudden, I wasn’t feeling so tired anymore. “Maybe we should go pay her a visit. Do we have her home address?”

“Now? It’s almost eight-thirty.”

“The only way we can catch Zeb in a lie, is if we can convince Sandra to recant her testimony. If she admits that Zeb left the room around the time of Julian’s death, the detective will have just cause to search his apartment. Or at least bring him in for another round of questioning.”

Carter checked his watch with a groan. “I can get the Dotson’s address, I suppose.”