T. Lynn Ocean - Jersey Barnes 01 - Southern Fatality (8 page)

After a beat, Lolly’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand. What’s happening at Chesterfield Financial?”

“I don’t know,” I told her. “But Bill thought you needed to know that Samuel isn’t seeing someone else.”

“I guess. It was dumb to have even confided in that woman to begin with.” Lolly turned the full force of her crystal blue eyes on me. “She was just so … sympathetic.”

“Nosy would be more like it. She’s a social columnist. She’s a piranha.”

Reprimanded, Lolly remained silent.

“Look, Lolly, I don’t know you. But I do know Bill, and since you’re his friend, you’re my friend.” There was no gentle way to put it. “Being married to someone like Chesterfield is going to present challenges and people may try to take advantage of you. They’ll want your story, your money, and yes, at some point you may encounter a woman who wants your husband. But for now,
just focus on your marriage and be happy with your good fortune.”

“You’re right,” she said. “My mother told me the same thing. When I was little, I mean. She used to tell me to plan my strategy, like you do in a game of chess, before I acted on a thought. To know how it would turn out.” Lolly’s eyes were focused on a distant spot over my shoulder, as though her mind was far away. Suddenly, the pupils shrunk and she focused her gaze on me. “I never could figure out how to play chess. I’m not real smart, like Bill, or you. But I love Samuel so much. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. The thought of him with somebody else made me crazy. And, contrary to what people think, I didn’t marry him for—”

“The money.” I finished the thought for her, thinking she was trying hard to convince me that she was a good person. I finished my water and started on the ale.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I really didn’t marry him for the money. I don’t want to have all that money. There are other things much more important than money.”

I wondered if she was telling the truth. If given the opportunity, what person wouldn’t want to have millions upon millions of dollars at their disposal? Nobody that I knew.

“Well, you are where you are, in a new town with a new husband. If you love Chesterfield, you’ll deal with being his wife in a responsible manner. Running to the tabloids with accusations that he was cheating on you would not have been good.”

She looked ready to cry, and for a moment, I felt bad. Like I had just punished an innocent child. Or, like the time I popped Cracker on the snout hard enough to make him yelp because he’d snatched a peeled shrimp off of a customer’s plate at the Block. In both cases, they may have just been following instinct.

“I see your point. I just don’t know if I’ve got what it takes,” she confessed.

“Of course you do. Modeling isn’t an easy thing, and if you can learn the ropes enough to stick with that for ten years, then you can learn how to deal with being the wife of Samuel Chesterfield.”

Our salads arrived. Lolly asked for fresh ground pepper and grated Parmesan. “Now I can see why Bill loves you,” Lolly said after a miniature bite of romaine lettuce.

“Hmm?” I was here to talk about Chesterfield and Lolly, not my love life.

“Well, you’re pretty. But you’re also smart and you understand things, you know? Even if you do guzzle beer and follow people around and stuff.”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second to keep from rolling them upward. “Let’s get back to why we’re here.”

“Is Sammy in trouble?”

“I don’t know. But I am going to try to find out. And if it turns out that he is, well, we’ll just deal with it then. All right?”

She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“You trust me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to go run off and chat with the media?”

“No.”

“You understand that he’s not cheating on you?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” I said and purposely changed tack to catch her reaction. “By the way, where are your parents now? Are they still together?”

She looked startled. “Uh, they’re in Europe. Traveling.”

We finished our lunches and I wasn’t sure whether Lolly was better off after our little meeting or not. I hoped that I had helped her somehow, regardless of the outcome.

I walked Lolly to her car, a blue BMW, before climbing into my own vehicle. Feeling bad about dumping everything in her
lap, I decided to stop by the agency to see how Rita was holding up.

What was wrong with me? First I felt bad about scolding Lolly and then I’m suddenly feeling guilty about bailing out on my partner? I, Jersey Barnes, was developing a conscience? This was a first. As I navigated the roads, I wondered if I was approaching a midlife crisis. I hadn’t experienced the urge to run out and buy a red convertible sports car, get my eyelids done, or have an affair with a young college football hero. Although Bill was younger, I didn’t purposely date him because of his looks. Not entirely, anyway. I’d have to ask Ox about my new conscience sometime, get his take on things.

The Barnes Agency is located in what was previously a two-story residential home in the heart of Wilmington. If traffic was moving, it was only a ten-minute drive from the Block and would take just slightly longer to get there from Paddy’s Hollow. The agency’s central location also put it near the airport, which came in handy since Rita and I frequently traveled by air. Although the Wilmington airport was small and had very few direct flights to anywhere, the benefits of living in Wilmington more than made up for minor inconveniences.

I had just pulled into the flow of traffic when my cell rang. Few people had the number, so it was usually something important. Or Spud, needing a ride somewhere. Or Bill, just to say hello. Since I’d announced my retirement, he’d been keeping closer-than-usual tabs on me.

“You might want to check this out,” Trish told me when I answered. She was sitting inside the agency’s mobile surveillance unit, an old Chevy van with a variety of magnetic door signs and license tags. It was currently a TOOL-TEK HOME REPAIR van.

“Chesterfield just got a call on his wireless. It was his assistant,
Darlene, telling him that Eddie Flowers was found dead. Apparently, Flowers was one of Chesterfield’s top people. The vice president of accounting. He flew into Wilmington for some reason and got himself shot.”

I aimed the Benz in the direction of Chesterfield Financial and, during the drive, called Dirk at the police station to fish for information. He didn’t know anything, but made a few calls and dialed me back within minutes.

Flowers had been found dead inside his car. Apparently the man had gone to Taco Bell for a fast-food lunch. He purchased two burritos inside the store and returned to his car, where somebody put a bullet in his head at point-blank range. Either he’d rolled down the window to speak with the shooter or he’d been driving with it down to begin with. The deed was done in broad daylight. No witnesses came forward.

I don’t much believe in coincidences. I had no way to be sure, but my gut told me that the accountant’s murder was related to the flash drive I’d found. It was time to have a talk directly with Chesterfield.

The next morning
when I approached Chesterfield at his company’s Wilmington office, I posed as an investigator hired by Flowers’ family to help find the murderer. I wore a cheap navy suit with plain leather heels and carried a nondescript briefcase. I was Josephine Bell.

A distinguished man in his late fifties, Chesterfield was even more handsome up close and in person, with dark hair that had grayed at the temples and warm brown eyes covered by nearly invisible wire-framed glasses. An aura of energy surrounded him, radiating success.

“Thanks for seeing me without an appointment,” I began. “It’s so important to get on something like this immediately.”

“Well, Miss Bell—”

“Please, call me Josephine,” I interrupted with a smile.

“Josephine, I’ll help however I can. But I am curious about something.”

“What’s that?” I gave him my most friendly, trustworthy smile.

“The family has never heard of you.”

I’d underestimated him. He must’ve called to verify my alias during the ten minutes I’d been kept waiting in the lobby. In the immediate wake following a tragedy, most people didn’t take the time to
think
about anything. It usually hadn’t yet occurred to them to be suspicious; they just complied and did what they were told to do. But Samuel Chesterfield was not most people.

I decided to come clean. Sort of.

“I’ve obviously misjudged you,” I said frankly, “and for that I apologize.” Taking a chance on angering Lolly, I explained to Chesterfield how I’d come in contact with his wife and how she’d been suspicious of him having an affair.

“She’s been told that you are not seeing another woman,” I finished.

A surprised laugh escaped from his mouth. “My goodness, I can’t believe she suspected me of infidelity. Poor thing. Lolly is such a sweet one and I love her dearly, but she’s a bit … naïve sometimes.”

“Yes.”

“And, you are here now for what purpose?” he asked straightforwardly. I had given him my real name and the real story, but left out the fact that I’d rummaged through his home and found a mysterious data storage device. I also hadn’t questioned him about the odd lunch meetings I’d witnessed.

“It seems coincidental that Lolly said you’ve been acting strange and days later one of your vice presidents is murdered.”

“The police say it appears to be a failed carjacking and I’m sure their judgment is sound.” He leaned forward, elbows on the desk,
and touched his fingertips together. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here. Who’s paying you to continue with your little investigation? Surely not Lolly.”

“No, she never paid me to begin with,” was all I said.

He leaned back in his chair. “Look, I’m a busy man. I don’t know what you’re after and I don’t have a good reason to cooperate with you. Yes, there’s been a tragic murder. Eddie was not only an officer of the company, he was a close friend. But none of this has anything to do with you.”

He had a good point. It wasn’t my business. Before leaving, I wrote my home phone number on a Barnes Agency business card and offered my hand. Surprising me, he shook it.

On my way out, I heard a secretary buzz Chesterfield on the intercom to say the maid needed him and it was an emergency. He picked up and listened briefly before letting the handset clatter to the floor. His face turned ashen and he looked as though he might get sick. I’d seen the same look on men before and it usually meant that something terribly bad had happened to someone they loved. I immediately thought of Lolly.

“Your wife?” I said.

He moved his head side to side in shocked, slow motion. “No, not Lolly. Jared. My son,” he said, not caring that I was a stranger. “He’s gone. There’s a note.”

I didn’t know if he meant gone as in suicide or gone as in missing.

“Kidnapped?”

“Maybe.”

I waited for him to ask for my help, but he didn’t. He was a cautious man. He had no idea who I was and, for all he knew, I could have been the kidnapper.

“Please leave,” he said and it was not a request. “I can assume that what you’ve just heard will be held in confidence?”

I nodded, noting that he slipped my business card into his pocket.

My
cell phone rang an hour later, while I was at the Block seeking companionship from Cracker.

“It’s Samuel Chesterfield,” he said.

“I thought you might call.”

“You’re not a licensed private investigator.”

“No, I’m not. Nobody in my agency is, and we do not advertise that we are,” I said. “Actually, we don’t advertise at all. A majority of our clients are carryovers from a previous career of mine.”

“With the government.”

“Your resourcefulness surprises me.”

“I was unable to ascertain what exactly it is that you did for the government. But you do have a most impressive background, Miss Barnes. At least what I could find of it. Quite a bit seems to be missing.” He had done his homework and he was quick. With the resources he had at his disposal, he could probably find out anything about anyone more quickly than I could. The difference was that I called in favors, while he simply put out the cash.

“Please, call me Jersey.”

“My son is missing, Jersey. It appears to be a kidnapping. Nobody has been notified because the note instructed that Jared would be shot if police were called.”

There was nothing for me to say, so I waited.

“I’m, ah, a little out of my league here,” he said and I heard a hint of desperation creep into an otherwise calm voice. “I can pay any amount to hire anyone for anything. But I have no idea who to hire or what to do. With your background, I figure you ought to at least be able to tell me who to call.”

This was a tough situation. Since it involved Samuel Chesterfield, the Feebies should be called, but as much as they tried, they couldn’t be invisible. A professional would spot FBI boys in a second, and might just carry out the death threat that was in the note. Although any kidnapper who killed their captive would lose their bargaining chip, so it was probably an empty threat. On the other hand, it may not have been an ordinary kidnapping. The murder, and now the missing son, were most likely tied to the computer data that Soup was working to decode. People, even billionaire financiers, just didn’t keep a database of United States residents’ Social Security information in a gym bag lying around on the floor of their penthouse condominium.

“I can’t give a recommendation until you level with me.”

“There’s nothing to level with you about. My son is missing. He’s a good boy and he wouldn’t just disappear like this.”

“Flowers?”

“I don’t know who killed him, or why. It had to have been a random thing.”

“Lolly’s suspicions?” I didn’t want to let on that I was formulating several of my own suspicions.

“Groundless. She may think I’ve been acting odd, but she doesn’t know me well. We’ve only been married less than a year.”

“You have several options,” I said carefully. “The local police, the sheriff’s office, the SBI—State Bureau of Investigation, private investigators … or all of the above. I can’t really say until I see the note, talk to some people, and get a line on who may have taken him. If, in fact, it really was a kidnapping. But generally speaking, you must notify the law in a situation like this. And since it’s you we’re talking about, I can pretty much guarantee the Feds will jump in. It’s very simple to make a case that the kidnapping of
your son could have national consequences, especially since he’s also an employee of your firm.”