Silent Justice (4 page)

Puttwater nodded and leaned back against the cruiser.

Hank spoke to King as they walked to their vehicles. “We have to find the maniac who did this, King. See what you can find out. In the meantime, I’d better see if Nina White has any next of kin and pay them a visit.”

“I’ll get on it, Hank.”

Hank watched King return to his vehicle and drive away before going to his Chevy. He figured the fastest way to find out more about Nina White was to visit the school office, which would undoubtedly have the information he needed to perform the uncomfortable task he now faced.

Chapter 6

Tuesday, 9:25 a.m.

JAKE EASED THE Firebird past the massive stone-and-wrought-iron gates and glanced up at the sprawling mansion where the McKinleys lived. It was set in the middle of five acres of prime real estate, exquisite landscaping extending in all directions. On the second floor, a huge balcony ran the entire width of the building, overlooking the front of the property.

He exchanged a glance with Annie. He wasn’t sure what she thought, but he knew this was a client who could pay. The value of the towering, French chateau-style home had to be in the millions. The four-car garage alone was bigger than their whole house.

He pulled up near the ten-foot-wide brick walkway and stopped the car. They got out and went up the walk, climbing onto a massive outdoor porch supported by a half dozen lofty pillars. Jake clanked the knocker on one of two solid oak doors and stood back.

The door swung open a moment later and a woman appeared in the doorway. Without the extra thirty pounds of weight, she would’ve been quite beautiful. And even with it, she would have no problem turning a few heads. Her long, wavy black hair alone was worth an admiring glance, as it framed a classic face, made up to perfection.

Jake and Annie introduced themselves and the woman motioned for them to enter. As they stepped inside the foyer, Jake gazed at the hardwood floor lining the main hallway, leading to a massive kitchen at the far end. To his right, a lavish double stairway soared upwards, probably to countless bedrooms.

Crystal McKinley’s long, perfectly fitted dress swished as she turned and led them through a wide arched doorway into a living room, extending from the front of the house to rear double doors facing the back of the property. She approached a group of overstuffed chairs, arranged in a circular pattern at the back of the room, and motioned for them to sit.

They sank into plush chairs and Jake glanced through the large rear windows. His eyes roved down a tiered, grassed area, past an Olympic-sized swimming pool, through a garden, to a tennis court beyond.

He turned back and faced Mrs. McKinley. She looked to be in her midforties and sat stiff-backed, her hands clasped together in her lap, her lips unsmiling.

The woman didn’t waste any time and got to the heart of her problem after the exchange of a few obligatory pleasantries.

“As I told you on the phone, I know my husband’s cheating on me,” she said, a dejected look crossing her face.

Jake took another glance around the opulent room. “Your husband’s a lawyer, Mrs. McKinley?”

“Yes. He’s a successful criminal defense lawyer. Mostly wealthy clients. He’s the managing partner at McKinley & Baker.”

A light dawned in Jake’s head. “I recognize the name now,” he said. He was well aware of the man. McKinley had taken the leadership role as a defense attorney on many high-profile cases and the man was almost unbeatable, though many of his clients were known to be on the shady side of the law.

“You mentioned you knew the … other woman?” Annie asked, removing a notepad and pen from her handbag. She made a note on an empty page.

A darkness appeared in Mrs. McKinley’s eyes. “Yes, I do. Her name’s Willow Taft and she’s a gold digger.”

Annie jotted the name in her notepad. “Do you have her address?”

Mrs. McKinley reached a hand toward Annie, pointing toward the notepad. “I can give you her address as well as the address and phone number of my husband’s firm.”

Annie handed the woman her pad and waited until Mrs. McKinley finished writing and handed it back.

Jake glanced over at the woman’s elegant cursive handwriting. She was obviously well educated. The woman had also written down a description of her husband’s favorite car, a red Mercedes Roadster—a convertible.

Annie spoke. “Mrs. McKinley, how can you be sure your husband is having an affair?”

The woman sighed. “I went to his office a few days ago when he wasn’t there. I suspected it already, but I wasn’t sure, so I went through his desk drawers and found a box of condoms. Strange, yes, but not enough.” She sighed again, this time deep and long. “So I dug a little further and found photos of that woman. Provocative photos, if you know what I mean.”

“Do you know the woman?” Jake asked.

She nodded. “Yes, he had an affair with her a number of years ago and I thought it was long past. But it seems to have been renewed.”

“Are you sure they weren’t old photos?” Jake asked. “And he kept them for some reason?”

Mrs. McKinley shook her head. “I know he’s having an affair. Whenever I give him a hug, I smell strange perfume on him. And his suit jackets have that same smell almost every day.” She dropped her eyes. “And … we rarely make love anymore.”

Jake looked at Annie and raised his brows. The woman seemed to have lots of evidence and now she wanted some undeniable proof.

The distraught woman raised her eyes. “I … I don’t want a divorce. I love my husband and I know he loves me. I only want to put an end to this and get our marriage back on track.”

Annie spoke. “And you think confronting him with the proof will change him?”

“I hope it will. My husband is a good man, but I’m desperate.”

Jake wondered if the woman wanted to avoid a divorce to keep from disrupting her extravagant lifestyle, but a look into Mrs. McKinley’s saddened eyes made him change his mind. She seemed to be sincere, trying to soothe her broken heart.

Annie closed the notepad and tucked it into her handbag. “We’ll see what we can come up with as soon as possible.”

Mrs. McKinley reached to a stand beside her chair and retrieved an envelope. She handed it to Annie. “I hope you don’t mind cash? I can’t write you a check for obvious reasons. I need to keep this a secret … for now.”

Annie took the envelope, glanced inside, and thumbed quickly through the bills. “Unless this takes longer than we expect, this should be plenty.” She closed the envelope and dropped it into her handbag. “Do you want a receipt?”

Mrs. McKinley shook her head and smiled weakly. “You have a good reputation and I don’t want a paper trail. I don’t think a receipt will be necessary.”

“We’ll let you know how things go as we proceed,” Jake said and looked at Annie. “Anything else we need to know?”

“I believe we have enough information,” Annie said. She stood and faced Mrs. McKinley. “I’ll contact you if there’s anything else we need.”

Jake and Mrs. McKinley stood and the woman led them to the foyer. She opened the door and thanked them, hope in her eyes.

They stepped out onto the porch and the solid door closed behind them.

Inside the car, Annie turned to Jake and patted her handbag. “There’s ten thousand dollars in this envelope.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open. “This woman means business. She must be desperate.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Annie asked.

Jake grinned and started the Firebird. “You don’t have to worry about that. We’re never going to be in this situation.”

Annie looked at her watch. “What do you say about getting on this immediately? It’s still early and we’ve got all day.”

Jake laughed. “I’m game, but let’s not do it too quickly. We’ve got ten thousand dollars’ worth of time to use up.” He glanced over at Annie’s frown and lost his grin. “Just kidding. We’ll give her a refund if necessary.”

Chapter 7

Tuesday, 10:20 a.m.

HANK SAT IN the office of Richmond North High School, leaning forward in his chair, his hands cupped in front of him. He gazed around the busy room. The administrative staff went about their chores almost as though nothing had happened in the parking lot behind the school.

Occasionally, someone would give him a brief glance, then look away. Two or three would gather, put their heads together, then carry on with their business. Though no one had been informed who the unfortunate victim was, they knew why he was there. He wished he were somewhere else, but someone had to talk to Teddy White, and the unpleasant task always fell in his lap.

He was informed by the principal that Nina White’s husband was not at home but had answered his cell and would be in shortly, not to take care of his students, but to talk with the detective, who waited patiently, fidgeting with his hands.

Hank looked over as a man wearing a dark suit and a cinnamon-red tie walked past the counter and glanced around. The principal spied the man and waddled hurriedly across the floor, approaching him. The principal leaned in, spoke some quiet words, and pointed toward Hank, and the man looked Hank’s way.

Hank stood as the men approached.

“You may use my office,” the principal said.

Hank nodded at the principal and turned toward the unsmiling man. “Teddy White?”

The man leaned in slightly and spoke in a low, stiff voice. “Yes.”

“This way,” the principal said, motioning toward an office. Hank picked up his briefcase and they followed him, stepping inside the room. The principal left them alone and closed the door quietly.

Hank motioned toward one of two guest chairs on the near side of the desk. Teddy White sat down, crossed his legs, straightened his back, and looked at the detective.

Hank turned the other chair around, sat his briefcase on the floor beside the chair, and sat facing Teddy. The man was in his late forties, his thin face lined with worry. Perspiration gathered on his semi-bald head, his high brow wrinkled with growing fear. He remained silent, his eyes searching Hank’s face.

The cop leaned forward, struggling to find the right words, but they never seemed to come. He cleared his throat, leaned in, and spoke softly. “Mr. White, my name’s Detective Corning. I’m afraid I have to inform you …” Hank took a short breath. “It’s about your wife. She’s been killed.”

Teddy White sat unmoving, his worried face unchanged, his eyes glaring into Hank’s, trying to process what he just heard. Sometimes it could take awhile to sink in; it never went the same way twice.

Hank waited and watched.

The voice came at last, low, reserved, unemotional. “What happened?”

Hank sat back. “She was hit by a car. Run over.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “It happened last night in the parking lot.”

Teddy’s voice finally cracked. “Run over?”

Hank nodded.

Teddy leaned forward, pain now showing in his eyes. “On purpose?”

“It looks that way,” Hank said. “I’m very sorry.”

Teddy nodded slightly in recognition of Hank’s words. “I was afraid something happened when she didn’t come home last night. She’s dedicated to her students and often works late, occasionally until two or three in the morning.”

“When did you talk to her last?” Hank asked.

Teddy thought a moment, running his fingers through the thin, graying hair above one ear. “Perhaps eight o’clock last night. She called to tell me she would be working late and wasn’t sure what time she would be home.”

“When did you suspect … something was wrong?”

Teddy sighed deeply and sat back. “I went to bed without her at eleven o’clock. When I woke up at two in the morning, she still wasn’t home. I wasn’t worried at the time, but I didn’t sleep well after that. About five o’clock I gave her a call.” He dropped his head. “She didn’t answer. I’ve been on the phone ever since trying to track her down. When the principal called me awhile ago I feared the worst.”

Hank remained quiet, unsure what to say.

Teddy looked up. “Where’s my wife now?”

“They’ve taken her to the city morgue.” Hank hated to say that. It always sounded so cold. He added, “The medical examiner will inspect her, but the cause of death is clear.” Teddy looked distraught, so Hank added, “Your wife’s body is in good hands, Mr. White. She’ll be treated respectfully.”

The man’s lower lip trembled, his voice now shaking. “Do you know who did this?”

Hank tightened his lips and shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll do all we can. We have some leads and expect to find the person shortly.”

A tear escaped and rolled down the man’s face. He brushed it away and cleared his throat, his eyes roving unseeing around the office. Finally, he looked back at the detective and narrowed his eyes. “How could anyone do this?”

“That’s what we need to find out,” Hank said. “Do you have any idea at all who could be responsible?”

Teddy thought a moment, his head shaking slowly back and forth. “I can’t even begin to think who it might be. She had no enemies.” His voice broke again. “All she ever wanted to do was help people. Especially the students.” Another tear fell and was quickly brushed away.

Hank put a hand on Teddy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He held his hand there awhile and then sat back and sighed.

“Are you sure it was intentional?” Teddy asked, his voice trembling.

Hank’s face was grim. “I believe so.” He paused. “It looks like she was run over perhaps two or three times.”

Teddy’s eyes widened and he took a sharp breath, a growing anger in his eyes. Then his brow wrinkled and he asked slowly, “Two or three times?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Teddy closed his eyes and dropped his head back. When he opened them again, he looked intently at Hank. “What can I do to help? I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do,” Hank said. “Unless you can come up with a motive—a reason someone might want to kill your wife—there’s little else you can do.” He paused. “We’ll take care of it, Mr. White.”