Murder in Buckhead, page 4
“Detective Shamir Turner. Thanks. That’s a big help. And I am assuming the investigation was shut down because your husband exerted some of that influence he has with them?”
“Although it’s warranted, I’ll ignore your sarcasm. And yes. Your assumption is correct.”
“Well, then. Shall we continue tomorrow morning?”
“That will be fine. I’ve had a guest bedroom prepared for you and you are welcome to join me for dinner.”
“Mrs. Olmsted, I appreciate the hospitality, but I need to be alone to think about and consider everything you have told me tonight. Really, that is best. But I would appreciate if DeShawn could give me a ride to a hotel close by. That would be a big help.”
“Of course. I understand. I recommend the Tybee Island Inn as it’s only about twenty minutes from here. I’ll have DeShawn call and make a reservation then drive you over. It’s been a pleasure to meet you and I know you will find the answers for me. Goodnight, Mr. Ludefance.”
*****
The Tybee Island Inn was far more than just a hotel. I enjoyed a delicious dinner in an elegant dining room and my large room overlooked the beach and ocean beyond.
In the morning after a big breakfast, I decided to stretch my legs, take a walk down the beach, and explore the surroundings. I took off my shoes, squishing my toes in the sand. Nice, but nothing like Santa Rosaria’s sugar-fine white sand.
As I started walking, something hit the back of my neck. I looked down to see a bright blue Frisbee at my feet, then turned to see several horror-stricken teenage girls. I reached down, picked it up and threw it back into the wind with all the wrist power I could manage. For a moment, it stood perfectly still in the air, then began sailing in their direction.
They all watched as the Frisbee came closer. One of the girls reached out and grabbed it from mid-air. We began a game – the four of them on one side and me on the other. It was great for running, stretching, and leaping; not only for them but for me as well. They all took turns throwing that simple piece of blue plastic at me, all the while laughing at their attempts to whack my head off with it.
When they took a break from throwing it my way and began practicing catching the Frisbee behind their backs and under their legs, it wasn’t hard to notice that every one of these girls would soon grow into striking young women. They were completely unaware of how their leaping bodies accentuated their breasts and hips, and how it was sending me inadvertently down a path I knew I shouldn’t follow. Deciding that I’d had enough exercise, I thought it best to call it a morning before someone put me away where I could do no harm. I’d played a hard game and felt a sense of achievement. As the game broke up, they headed toward the ocean, and I walked back to the Tybee Island Inn.
After a shower, I decided not to interview Scarlet this morning. She’d given me more than enough information to get started and I needed some time to gather my own information and design a strategy. I also wanted to call my best friend Hiker, now sheriff of Santa Rosaria, as well as contact Detective Turner in Atlanta. I texted Scarlet with my decision, that I’d call soon to schedule another interview, adding that as of today I was officially on the clock. She texted me her approval and gave me the schedule for my flights back to Pensacola. A shuttle took me to the airport, there were no problems with my flights, and Uber took me safely back to the cottage.
Time to get to work.
CHAPTER 5
Friday-Saturday, March 22-23
Friday morning, I made a call to the Atlanta Police Department and was informed that Detective Shamir Turner worked out of Zone 2. My call was immediately transferred.
“Atlanta Police Department, Zone 2. How may I direct your call?”
“Good morning. My name is Jack Ludefance and I’d like to speak with Detective Turner, please.”
“Is he expecting your call?”
“No.”
“What is this in regard to?”
“I need to speak to Detective Turner in private.”
“Hold on a moment. I’ll ring his desk.”
Surprisingly, I wasn’t put on hold, and I could hear the exchange between the receptionist and Detective Turner.
“Detective? There’s someone on the line by the name of Ludefance who wants to talk with you.”
“Ludefance? He said his name was Ludefance?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Did he say what it’s about?”
“No, Sir. He said he wants to speak with you in private.”
“Put him through.”
There were several clicks.
“This is Detective Turner. What can I help you with Mr. Ludefance?”
“Detective Turner, I’m a PI from Santa Rosaria, Florida. Is there a way we can talk in private? I’d like to discuss the Buckhead suicide case.”
“Are you working on the case?”
“As of yesterday. I’ve been hired to investigate the case, yes.”
“Ah, very good. How soon can you get here?”
How soon could I get there?
“I’m currently in Santa Rosaria, but I can leave early tomorrow morning.”
“Can you make it by ten?”
“I doubt it. I need to make flight reservations. How about I call you as soon as I land?”
“I’ll be expecting your call.”
Logging into my Delta Air Lines account, I checked available flights for tomorrow morning. Nothing until the 9 am on which I snagged the last seat. I spent the rest of the day conducting some basic research on the Olmsteds, which coincided with the information DeShawn had given me. Nice to know I did have a source I could trust.
I also did a quick background check on Detective Turner. I wanted a head’s up as to who I would be working with. Nothing nefarious, in fact, he was highly respected in both the police force and in the community. Turner was known for closing cases quickly.
Next, I made a quick call to Hiker, but he was out on a case and could not be disturbed. Filling him in would have to wait.
Last but not least, was a call Cindy to tell her our plans for the weekend were cancelled. She started to protest, but when I explained why, she settled down and wished me luck and a safe trip.
*****
Saturday morning, I packed my roll aboard and prepared my handgun for travel. Unlike my previous case in California, Florida does have reciprocity agreements with Georgia. After completing an on-line mail hold, I made sure all my important papers were in my hidden fire-proof safe, then called and scheduled Uber to take me to the airport. Since I wasn’t sure how long I’d be gone, I preferred to keep my car in the garage at the cottage.
Upon arriving at Hartsfield Atlanta Airport, I called Detective Turner to let him know I was on my way. He suggested I take the MARTA train which had a stop close to the precinct. I thought back to my experience with the ‘Tube’ in London. Sure, why not? If I could figure London out by train, I’m sure Atlanta would be a piece of cake.
A half-hour later I walked into the bustling precinct.
“Good morning, Sir. How may I help you?”
“My name is Jack Ludefance. I’m a PI from Florida and I’m here to see Detective Turner.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes. I spoke with him about a half-hour ago that I was on my way in.”
“I’ll give him a call to let him know you’re here. He’s the third door on the left down the main hall.”
“Thanks. By the way, I do conceal carry.”
“Do you have your firearm on you at this moment?”
“Yes.”
“If you’ll leave it with me along with your conceal carry permit.”
“Not a problem.”
I handed him my firearm and my permit. He handed me my visitor’s ID which I dutifully hung around my neck.
“One last question? Is it okay if I leave my roll aboard and backpack with you?”
“Of course. No problem.”
Heading toward the detective’s office, I found his door open and Turner on the phone. When he looked up and saw me, he waved me in. I sat down across from him as he finished his conversation. He then stood up and extended his hand.
“Detective Turner.”
Sitting back down he asked, “So, Jack Ludefance, what can I do you for?”
“As I mentioned yesterday, I’ve been hired to investigate one of your cases, the Buckhead suicide. I was advised that you were the detective who initially handled the case.”
“Yes, until it was closed as a suicide. There are two Mrs. Olmsteds. But it’s Mrs. Scarlet Olmsted that hired you, right?”
“It was. How did you know?”
“She did tell you I’m the one who recommended you?”
“Yes. When I first spoke with her, she told me she couldn’t reveal who it was, but once I officially took the case, she gave me your name. But, why me Detective Turner? There must be hundreds of PI’s here in the Atlanta area.”
“Been following you, Ludefance. You’ve garnered a great deal of attention with three high-profile cases. Brought each one to a successful close. So, I thought who better to recommend to a very sweet woman who’s just lost her only son and is married to a, excuse the expression, ‘prick.’”
“I’m beginning to like you, Detective. I’m assuming you know a lot of things about me besides just those three cases.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“I’m not surprised. There’s a great deal of public knowledge about my life out there. Some true, some fabricated, some completely false. You probably have quite a dossier on me.”
“Of course we do. But only the factual pertinent info. I assume you’ve spoken at length with Mrs. Olmsted. So, tell me what you think, Ludefance.”
“My mind is open at moment, Detective. All I can say at this point is that Mrs. Olmsted believes her son wouldn’t commit suicide. She firmly believes there was foul play in his death. What do you think?”
“I’m with her.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“My hands are tied, Ludefance. I’ve discussed Mrs. Olmsted’s concerns ad nauseam with my precinct boss, Commander Hugans. I was told not to pursue it and to drop any further investigation after it was officially closed as a suicide.”
“Why?”
“Senator Olmsted insisted.”
“Senator Olmsted. And that’s why she wants to keep my investigation quiet. So, tell me. How soon was it closed and who made the decision?”
“The following afternoon the decision was announced to us by our illustrious Chief of Police, Tremayne Dorcell. And the morning after that it was announced to the media.”
“Okay Detective, enlighten me. Why do you think it’s a homicide?”
“Instinct and Mrs. Olmsted. The only ‘evidence’ I have is the so-called ‘suicide note’ that was found under the coffee table. I had a handwriting expert examine it forensically. In his professional opinion it was either written by someone who is left-handed and possibly suicidal, or it was written by someone who is right-handed but wrote the note with their left hand to make it look like the person was possibly suicidal.”
“So, someone other than Casey was in that condo and wrote the note?”
“That’s my conclusion.”
“You have pictures?”
“Yes. But there’s nothing noteworthy on them.”
“Could I take a look at them?”
“Of course.”
Turner unlocked his bottom desk drawer, removed a file folder, and handed it to me. The folder was filled with 8x10 high resolution stills. I took my time going through them.
“Wow is all I can say. An immaculate residence. Nothing disturbed. Nothing to indicate anyone else was there to ‘help’ him commit suicide. According to what Mrs. Olmsted told me, her son was a perfectly normal, fun-loving, hard-working man. He loved his wife and they seemed happy. He had no personal issues other than the fact that he didn’t get along with his father. In fact, she said Casey never had any intention of being a part of or taking over any of his father’s businesses.”
“Yeah, exactly, Ludefance. This case bugs me to hell. The last time I spoke with my commander, we had a fierce argument. You know what he told me? ‘No more discussions, Turner. You don’t like the decision; you can always quit.’ That’s how messed up this whole thing is.”
“Jeez, Turner, that’s unbelievable. But what I don’t understand is why Senator Olmsted wants it covered up.”
“Well, I’m gonna give you my personal opinion on that. We had another case involving the senator and one of his girlfriends. She was found dead in late November 2017. The senator had an air-tight alibi. He was in Washington at the time of her death.”
“What?”
“As sure as I’m sitting here.”
“What happened?”
“Why? You thinking of looking into her case, too?”
“I’m not sure. Possibly. Who was she?”
“Her name was Anna May Foster.”
“Tell me about this Anna May Foster.”
“Ah, Anna May. Beautiful girl. Born and raised here in Atlanta. It was known all over town that she was the senator’s girlfriend. He bought her a Jaguar and paid all the expenses on her apartment. They had this very fancy arrangement; whenever the senator was in Atlanta, Anna May would tell her live-in boyfriend to go take a hike and when the senator left Atlanta the boyfriend would come back to the apartment. The senator even got her a role in a television series that was being filmed in the area. But, as with all fancy arrangements, she became a problem. It’s my belief the senator decided to do away with her.”
“Why? What problem?”
“Anna May got pregnant and wanted more money from the senator. There were several heated and very public disagreements between them. If she didn’t get more money, she would expose him as the father of her child. The next thing we knew, she was found dead. An autopsy confirmed she was pregnant.”
“Doesn’t that make it a double homicide?”
“It does. But we could never prove it was the senator who was responsible. In fact, no one was ever arrested in connection with the murder. Another dead-end case. And you don’t know me yet, but I loathe dead-end cases.”
“Can’t blame you there. How’d Anna May die?”
“She was found strangled. Her body had been dumped out by the railroad tracks over near the Gold Rush.”
“Good, God. That’s a brutal death.”
“It definitely was not a pretty sight.”
“So. What’s the Gold Rush?”
“It’s a strip club. Still open and going strong. She used to work there before the gig on the television show. It may not have been the senator, but I can assure you it had to be one of the senator’s, shall we say, ‘hired help.’”
“Is there anything else I should know about Anna May’s case?”
“Anna May Foster and Blaire Olmsted were besties.”
“Anna May and Blaire Olmsted were best friends? Interesting. What about Blaire? Where was she the day her husband died?”
“She told me that she’d spent the night with her ‘friend,’ and I use the word loosely, and then they’d gone to Perimeter Mall for an early lunch at the Cheesecake Factory during the time Casey supposedly jumped. Then they walked through the mall and she bought some mascara.”
“Tell me about this friend. You seem a bit perturbed.”
“I still am. When Blaire showed up at the condo building shortly after Casey’s body was discovered, she had a woman with her. She referred to her as her ‘friend’ and proceeded to give me her alibi. Two very strange things about this friend. First, when I asked her name, she was evasive as hell, then finally told me it was Kimberley Lettuce.”
“Kimberley Lettuce? What the hell?”
“Yup. I asked both Blaire Olmsted and her companion to give their contact information to one of the police officers. When it looked like they were going to just walk away, I had one of my detectives catch up with them and secure the information. But when I later checked Kimberley’s information, both the name and the contact number she gave were fake. The other strange thing is, no one working at the Cheesecake Factory remembers seeing Blaire or her friend. No one remembers serving them except for one waiter, who swears they were there. And believe me, the rest of them would know who she is. She’s quite something.”
“So how did you find this all out if the case was closed so quickly?”
Turner just smiled. What a sly devil he was.
“Can you give me the waiter’s name?”
“Jefferson Thomas.”
“Well, that’s a fake if I ever heard one. So do you have a suspicion Blaire was part of this?”
“Her alibi may stink, but she’s as clean as a whistle. She used to work at the Gold Rush with Anna May, but after her marriage to Casey, she cleaned up her act real well. Became the typical beautiful, devoted Buckhead wife.”
“And certainly the senator would have no reason to take out his own son…”
“None. They didn’t get along, but what father would do something like that to his only heir?”
“Well, Turner, here’s something interesting to add to the mix. Blaire called me last week and wanted to hire me to protect her.”
“What? Why?”
“She believes the senator is trying to have her killed.”
“Good Lord! What for?”
“He believes she had something to do with Casey Ray’s demise.”
“You don’t say. Why didn’t she come to us?”
“According to her, the Atlanta police are owned by the senator.”
“Huh. She does, does she? Look, Ludefance. We’re not ‘owned’ by anyone. However, the senator does have a great deal of influence not just in Atlanta, but in the entire state. He has, at times, applied pressure to gain an outcome to his advantage.”
