Murder in Buckhead, page 7
“Now who’s being weird?”
“Yeah, I know. We’re both weird. But remember, your weirdness rubbed off on me.”
“Right. I’ll let you go eat your dinner and talk to you soon.”
“Before you hang up, answer one question. Are you in trouble with the local sheriff?”
“Not yet. But he and Olmsted are tight. That’s why I’m leaving as soon as possible.”
“Jack?”
Why does he always call me Jack when he thinks it’s important? “I’ll fill you in later, Lawson.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Be careful down there.”
“You know I will.”
7:30 pm. Twenty-five minutes until the Greyhound Bus arrived. Could I make it? I had to. I’d already checked. There were no flights out of the small Anslow airport until tomorrow afternoon. I made a quick call to the Marriott Courtyard, reserved a room with guaranteed late check-in, then packed what few things I had, and checked out with a not too happy front desk clerk.
At 7:55 pm I was sitting on the nearly empty bus headed back to Atlanta. 3 hours and 44 minutes later I was standing in the bus terminal on Courtland Street where I hailed a taxi to the hotel.
My path forward was now clear cut. Another interview with Blaire, tomorrow, if at all possible. In my mind, she was the key to clearing a number of things up.
CHAPTER 9
Tuesday, March 26
In the morning, after a hot shower, I came down to breakfast and enjoyed a delicious three-egg vegetarian omelet with sourdough toast and two cups of black coffee. Over my second cup, I opened my MacBook Air and checked emails. Thinking about Rudy, was it time to bring him out from California? Not yet. Still a few things to do. Blaire was first on the list. A second interview was justified after my visit to Anslow. After my not-so-positive attitude regarding her concerns, I wanted and needed to gain her confidence. After all, her concerns were valid. The senator was at the crux of several murders, albeit his hired men committed the deeds.
Dialing Blaire’s number, I reached her voice mail.
“Blaire, this is Jack Ludefance. It’s important that we get together again and continue our talk. When you get this message, please call me to set up a meeting. Thank you. Have a great day.”
Not more than five minutes passed when my phone rang.
“Jack Ludefance.”
“It’s Blaire.”
“Blaire, thank you for getting back to me so quickly.”
“I was in the shower when you called. Again, I’m surprised. I had the impression that you weren’t going to come through for me. You must know you are the only hope I have, so I’m curious. What made you change your mind?”
“I’ve just come back from a very interesting visit to a town called Anslow.”
“Anslow?”
“Yes. I did quite a bit of digging on the senator and now realize your concerns are very valid.”
“Do you realize how dangerous that was?”
“You know about Anslow?”
“Yes, I know about Anslow.”
“I’m back in Atlanta at the same hotel. If you have the time, we do need to talk.”
“Sure. Just give me about an hour to dry off and get ready. You’re at the same Marriott as the last time we talked?”
“Same one. So, I’ll see you about noon in the lobby.”
“See you then.”
Just before noon, I went down to the lobby and found a quiet corner to wait and think. There was something about Blaire I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Personally, I now believe that the senator tried and is probably still trying to have her taken out. The question is, why?
I get this feeling that she acts all innocent, but in reality, she’s a manipulative bitch. The quirkiness of that statement is obviously contradictive. Oh, Mr. Ludefance, I was in the shower. I’ll get dried off and see you in an hour. The connotations of that statement couldn’t be clearer. Her sexual powers are always on and ready to attack and capture her prey’s weakness. That, I call, a bitch. But then, most females are like that. Especially when they are as beautiful as Blaire. And after learning what I did in Anslow, there was no question in my mind that she was in danger.
Now what are you doing Jack? Are you falling for the female power again? Hey, get a hold of yourself. You have very dangerous people to deal with. Don’t let Blaire’s sexuality get to you.
This time she made me wait. 12:10…12:20…
Finally, at 12:35 pm, the main lobby door opened and a very well-dressed female walked in. Blaire? I stood up and walked towards the woman. Blaire. She was looking down as she did the first time we met. When she finally straightened her head and looked up at me, those large, mesmerizing eyes met mine. She was dressed very conservatively. Classic white slacks and green silk shirt, with a matching green cashmere sweater. She certainly did know how to dress, unlike the last time when she revealed her body. This was a completely different Blaire.
“Blaire, thanks for coming!”
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“I’m sitting over there in the corner.”
As I led her back to the two chairs and table I asked, “Would you care for a refreshment or anything to eat?”
“Just water, thanks.”
“Be right back.”
Walking to the breakfast area, I poured a cup of black coffee for myself, then grabbed a Dasani from the cooler for Blaire and returned to the corner chairs.
“Jack, you don’t know how hopeful I am that you’re going to free me from my misery. I can’t go on living with this terror. I’m not sleeping and I’m constantly looking over my shoulder expecting the worst to happen.”
“Blaire, I believe you. Anslow was a wealth of information. I now know who the senator’s hired men are. You’re safe to tell me. I want to hear you say their names.”
She looked down, speaking in a whisper, “Dirty Bob…Smokey Jim.”
“And Anslow?”
“Anslow is their safe place to hide when things get to hot.”
“That’s a good start. From here on, I’m with you. I’ve decided to look seriously into your situation.”
She slowly lifted her head; tears filling her eyes as she nodded.
“But in order to do that I need to know from the very beginning how you became acquainted with Senator Olmsted. I need to know your entire history with him. How you became friends with Anna May Foster. It’s necessary for me to know all the facts to come up with a workable solution. Can you do that for me?”
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she nodded.
“Alright then. Take your time. Have a sip of water. It’s all going to be okay.”
She took several sips of the Dasani, then a deep breath.
“First of all, I want to apologize for my appearance the first time we met. To say I’m embarrassed would be an understatement. You see, I didn’t know you. Just like with most men, I tried to impress you with my body. Silly of me. Silly for most girls my age. I am sorry and I hope you’ll accept my apology. I want to clear that out of the way.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Thank you for that. All I want is to get along with people. I certainly don’t want any trouble. Yes, I’m fully aware of how I look. To tell you the truth, sometimes good-looking is a terrible curse. I meet very scary people who try and stare me down. I just want to be like everyone else and get on with my life.”
“Being as beautiful as you can be a curse. But, I’m afraid it’s a curse you’re going to have to live with. For me, my scar is my curse. People can’t help but stare. Sometimes I’m able to just blow it off, other times it gets to me. Each of us, in our own way, has something we need to get past. Now, with that out of the way, start from the beginning. How did you meet Senator Olmsted?”
She took a few more sips of water.
“During my years at Mercer University, I took classes for modeling where I learned how to walk the runway and how to pose for print. I was fortunate to find work that paid well enough to cover my tuition.
“After my graduation in December 2016, I did what many girls do. I found a local modeling agency here in Atlanta. They represented me, booking me for both print work and plenty of runway jobs. On one of my runway jobs I met Anna May Foster. We started talking and she told me about how she was working at the Gold Rush making really good money. I thought, why not? So, I applied using Anna May as a reference and was hired immediately.”
“When did this all happen?”
“I started work there in early 2017. That’s where I met Senator Olmsted.”
“When did you meet him?”
“March, I believe. He would hire me and Anna May to privately entertain him. Before you get judgmental, what we did wasn’t unusual. We had several personal clients that we’d do private entertaining for; nothing more than exotic dancing in a private room.
“Senator Olmsted and Anna May were already an item. After he met me, he came to all my runway shows. By May, I was his mistress as well. You see, there’s no way Senator Olmsted would take ‘NO’ for an answer.”
“You married his son. How did that come about?”
A tinge of anger crossed her face. “You’re getting ahead of my story.”
“Sorry…”
“At the time I became the senator’s mistress, I was seriously dating a really nice guy by the name of Brandon River. I loved him and all I wanted was to be Brandon’s wife. Even though being the senator’s mistress was exciting, it wasn’t what I pictured my life to be.
“About six months after the senator and I became an ‘item,’ Brandon had a terrible car accident and was killed. Supposedly he was going over 90 miles per hour when his car crashed into a light pole. The police report stated he didn’t have any brakes because his brake fluid line had ruptured. Rumors spread that the senator’s men somehow had a finger in it.”
“What happened then?”
“Silly of me, but I believed the rumors. I wanted revenge. So, I stopped seeing the senator. I wanted to hurt him; hurt him bad. But how? In the meantime, I found out that Anna May Foster had been murdered. Everyone knew it was the senator’s men. He’s always conveniently out of town when any dirty deed is done.”
“How do you know so much about the senator’s whereabouts?”
“He has a Lear jet he keeps at PDK.”
“PDK?”
“Peachtree DeKalb Airport. Anna May Foster and I have both flown in his plane. I know one of the guys that works there who keeps me up to date when the senator is in or out of town.”
“Why?”
“When he’s in town I’m in more danger than when he is out of town.”
“Not sure I follow the logic of that, but go on.”
“About Casey…I’d met the senator’s son several years ago. The idea came to me to use him as my revenge. Catch Casey’s heart and hurt him. It would be so easy. The problem was, the more I got to know Casey, the more I liked him, really liked him. That liking quickly turned into love on both sides. We quietly eloped before anyone could find out.”
“Did Casey have any idea you were his father’s mistress?”
“No. I never told him. Thankfully, he never had any idea. After we were married, Casey called his mother to inform her. She obviously told the senator because he immediately contacted me, wanting to see me. I told him not ever again; that if he tried, I would get a restraining order to keep him away. He laughed at me, called me a naive child, telling me a piece of paper wouldn’t keep him away.”
“Did you see the senator at all after you were married?”
“I managed to avoid all contact, except for one very unpleasant meeting.”
“Then Casey came home early from his month stint in Kazakhstan and committed suicide. Somehow that doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me either. We were happy together. We even talked about having a child together. I still don’t understand what happened. One of life’s mysteries, I guess. The scary part for me was that I couldn’t even attend my own husband’s funeral. After that was over, I started seeing the senator’s men everywhere I went. It certainly isn’t a coincidence.”
“What about the senator?”
“The scary incident I mentioned? After one of my runway shows, the senator came to my dressing room, burst in, and said, ‘I will deal with you, you bitch.’ I’ve never been so scared in my entire life and I believe it’s only a matter of time before I end up like Anna May.”
She bent her head, “I don’t know what to do, Jack.”
“I promise you, I will figure something out. But you’ve got to understand how difficult it is to go after a sitting U.S. senator who has both clout and respect of his peers.”
“But who is a nasty, evil man outside of that environment. I know this is awkward to ask, but would you consider coming to stay with me? I’m sure the senator’s men know where I live. As I said, I’m scared it’s just a matter of time.”
“Blaire, I understand you’re scared, but it’s inappropriate for me to stay with you. It would only complicate things. I want to concentrate on the case, so I can’t have any distractions. You can call me any time, night or day, if you need me. You can call me if you remember anything else. Are you still living in your condo on Peachtree?”
“No. I couldn’t now that Casey’s gone. That along with it being easier for the real estate agent to show and potentially sell it. I’ve moved to another complex just down the street.”
“Is it gated?”
“No. But it does have security. Why?”
“Is there a way you can rent an apartment in a gated facility? I think that would be much safer than just security. You’d have the peace of mind of both gated and security on duty.”
“Jack, I just moved! You do know what that entails, right? I mean, even though I hired a professional crew to pack, move, and unpack everything, it’s still a tremendous amount of work! But, yes, if you think it would be best, I could look into it. I’m sure there are plenty around that area. Thanks for the advice.”
“Remember, if you think of anything else just give me a call.”
“Hmm…Actually there is something that’s been bothering me, but it may be nothing.”
“Let me be the one to decide that.”
“Well, it was back toward the end of January just before Casey was due home from his month overseas. One of the residents made a pass at me. This guy was drunk and quite obnoxious. I told him in no uncertain terms to get lost. When Casey returned, I told him what had happened. There was a nasty altercation in the lobby that ended with the guy taking a swing.”
“What did your husband do?”
“Decked him.”
“In the lobby?”
“Yes. Then came the threats.”
“Where was the security guard?”
“Watching. Ready to call the police. Which thankfully didn’t happen.”
“Do you know the guy’s name?”
“Liam Shanchezg, but I have no idea which unit he lives in.”
“No problem.”
“And this would have been early February?”
“Yes. So, do you think it’s something to check out?”
“Could be. Need to think about it though.”
“Well, okay. I do feel better now that we’ve talked.”
After we said our goodbyes, I went back up to my room and filled in more notes on our conversation. Also added the Gold Rush to the list of things to be checked out. That evening, I messaged Uber for a pickup at 7:30 pm. Return message stated a 10-minute arrival time by a white Toyota Prius.
“Where to, Mister?”
“Do you know of a decent Italian restaurant close by? Something other than Olive Garden? I mean Olive Garden’s okay, but I just want something different.”
“Well, I know a few… Pasta de Pulcinella, Boccalupa, La Tavola, Trottaria…all are within maybe a five-mile radius. They all serve great food, but pricy.”
“I’ll trust your judgment. I’d love to try them all, but take me to the first one you mentioned.”
“Pasta de Pulcinella it is…1123 Peachtree Walk NE. I’ll have you there in ten minutes.”
My usual Italian dinner, angel hair pasta with shrimp along with a Sam Adams beer, amply satisfied my appetite. I just can’t give up Italian dishes; they are my weakness. I know I should back off from pasta and get in shape, but whenever I have a case that seems to be going in the right direction, I indulge myself with my favorite dishes.
My intuition is pinging at the back of my brain that I’m on the right track as far as the senator goes. It’s a strong feeling. But a feeling is never enough. I needed solid evidence to deal with one of the most powerful senators in the U.S.
Going after someone like Senator Olmsted could also spell my demise. But, since when have I backed off dealing with dangerous people? Holler was one of them, but Holler was a military man. Senator Olmsted is a politician and a criminal. That makes him far more dangerous than Holler. No turning back now. I assured Blaire I’d try and find a solution and I’m going to proceed to wherever it leads to.
The questions remained. Why was the senator insisting that his son committed suicide? To protect himself? Or, to protect his son?
CHAPTER 10
Wednesday-Friday, March 27-29
Today would be delegated to following up on the other residents of the building. Investigating nearly 20 high-end condo owners and renters wouldn’t be a piece of cake, but something that needed to be done. First priority was obtaining a list. Detective Turner came to mind. His authority would break through any resistance from building security.
“Detective Turner.”
“Detective, this is Jack Ludefance. How’s your day going?”
“What do you want Ludefance?”
“Right to the point. You said you’d help if I needed something.”
“I did. What is it you need?”
