Lies Still Told, page 3
Veronica stared at the scarred and scratched top of the wooden table. “I am a licensed cosmetologist. I want to have my own hair salon. I needed additional capital.”
“You wanted to borrow some money?” A.L. clarified.
“Yes.”
“And how did your dad respond to your request?” A.L. asked.
“He said that he didn’t think it was a good idea.”
“You said earlier that he wouldn’t discuss the question on the phone. So, he knew that you were going to ask him for a loan prior to making the drive up Route 39. He came all that way to tell you no. How did that make you feel?”
Veronica shrugged. “It simply confirmed things.”
“What specifically?” A.L. asked.
“That my father is a bastard. Always was, always will be. End of story. And apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
“Why do you say that?” Rena asked.
“A.L. said it was a homicide investigation. So Dad bought the farm. Cashed in his chips. Met his maker. Pissed off one too many people.”
“Let’s focus on that last one. Any thoughts on who else, besides you, was pissed at your dad?” A.L. asked.
“How would I know that?” Veronica asked.
Oldest trick in the book. Answer a question you don’t want to answer with a question.
“We understand that your mom lives right here in Wausau. Did you approach her for a loan as well?” A.L. asked, evidently choosing to move on.
“No.”
“Why not?” he pushed.
“I don’t know her financial situation. And while I thought my dad was a bastard, I could understand his motivation. What was good for Platt was good. Period. I didn’t get my mother. She was a fool, and she didn’t have any self-respect. Fatal flaws, in my opinion. I certainly wasn’t going to open a door to a relationship with her by asking for money.”
“Your father wouldn’t see it as an open door?” Rena asked.
“My father was just as happy as I was with the closed door between the two of us.”
Rena almost felt a little sorry for her.
“Where were you last night, Veronica?” A.L. asked.
“I was…here,” she said. “Lots of people saw me.”
“What time did you arrive?” A.L. asked. He was taking his own notes now.
“About nine.”
“And what time did you leave?” he asked.
“Closing time,” she said. “Know that song, A.L.? Closing Time?” She sang a few lines of it. She did not have a bad voice.
“Don’t know it,” A.L. interrupted. “What time did you leave?” he asked, repeating the original question.
“Two,” she said.
“You leave alone?” Rena asked.
“I did.”
“You drive?” she followed up.
“Yeah. And I probably wasn’t sober,” Veronica said. “You going to lock me up for that?”
“We generally don’t lock people up for stupidity after the fact,” Rena said.
“You go straight home?” A.L. asked, ignoring Rena’s comment.
“Yes. Christ, it’s less than five minutes away. One turn. I could do it in my sleep.”
“You went to work this morning at what time?” A.L. asked.
“Eight o’clock.”
“Anybody see you between two, when you left this bar, and eight, when you showed up for work?”
“I was sleeping. I’m fucking forty-one years old, A.L. I need some sleep. Otherwise, I look rode hard and put away wet, which isn’t what I’m going for.”
“Do you happen to know if your dad had a will or life insurance,” A.L. asked.
“If he does, I can’t imagine that I’m in it.” She laughed. Harshly. “Which is kind of a real bitch, isn’t it? That’s what parents are supposed to do, right? Leave their kids something. Should I feel guilty about that, A.L.?” Her tone had turned antagonistic. “Don’t you hope Francis has tucked a little something aside for you?”
He and Veronica were not in the same boat. “I’m interested in motive,” he said.
“Listen, I need a cigarette. If you got any more questions, ask them outside.” She shoved back her chair, making the legs scratch against the wood floor. She swung by her original barstool, grabbed her purse, her phone and her cigarettes in one swipe across the bar. Rena expected it was a move she’d made a thousand or so times.
They followed. When they got outside, A.L. handed Veronica a business card. “I think we’re done. If you think of anything else that may be helpful, please call me.”
“Oh, I’ll be sure to do that,” Veronica said. She lit a cigarette.
A.L. and Rena walked to the SUV. When they were inside, Rena turned to A.L. “She’s hard to like.”
“Yeah. I don’t remember her that way.”
Rena was reviewing her notes. “We can check her phone, see if it was moving around last night. And, if necessary, the GPS in her vehicle.”
“I don’t think I surprised her too much when I told her it was a homicide.”
Rena waited. A.L. was thinking out loud.
“She obviously didn’t want to say who else might want bad things for her dad,” A.L. mused.
“It would have seemed logical for her to offer up at least a couple alternatives who might be better suspects than herself. What’s her motivation not to do that?”
“One, her alibi is strong. Two, she really doesn’t know. Or three, she’s afraid to.”
“Or four,” Rena said, “she wasn’t expecting us and didn’t have time to come up with someone.”
A.L. turned to look at her. “Do you consider her a suspect?”
“I think that she had a hostile relationship with a man who disappointed her only a few days before he ended up dead.”
A.L. let out a sigh. “Let’s go see Virginia, the ex-wife.”
Rena plugged the address into the GPS and they drove back into Wausau. The house was a cute brick bungalow on a street of cute brick bungalows. It was fully decked out for Christmas with lighted deer and a sleigh in the yard and icicle lights rimming the roof. They knocked on the door.
A woman cautiously opened it a few inches. “Virginia Trotter?” A.L. asked.
“Yes.”
“My name is Detective A.L. McKittridge. I grew up in Baywood.”
The woman did not smile. “I remember you, A.L. For goodness sakes, you used to stay over at my house on Friday nights. You’d bring that red bike of yours and raise hell with the other kids on the street. And I know why you’re here. I talked to Hank. He’s on his way to Baywood.”
A.L. turned to Rena. “This is my partner, Detective Morgan. Would you have a few minutes that we could speak with you?”
She stepped back. They walked in. The house smelled good, and Rena saw a candle burning on the red-brick fireplace. There was an artificial Christmas tree in the corner with the lights on. A big Nativity scene covered most of one end table.
Virginia motioned for them to have a seat. They took the couch. She sat in the recliner opposite of them.
“We’re investigating Platt’s death,” A.L. said.
“How long have you been with the police?” Virginia asked.
“Since college,” A.L. said. “I was in Madison for a while, then my wife and I, and our daughter, moved back to Baywood about ten years ago.”
“That’s about when I left,” she said. “Our paths must not have crossed. Your wife and you have just the one daughter, still?”
“Yes. She’s seventeen, a senior in high school. I’m divorced. My ex still lives in Baywood, though.”
A.L. was being more chatty than normal, and it made Rena realize that he was likely doing this in consideration of the relationship that he’d once had with Platt and his family. If he’d spent the night at their house, this woman had likely made him breakfast.
“Divorce is never easy,” she said. “Mine certainly wasn’t. Either of them. But it’s nice that you’re close to your daughter. And Baywood is a lovely community. I read the newspaper online, and I’m impressed with what the mayor is doing.”
They had not come to talk about community affairs. “When was the last time you saw Platt?” A.L. asked, bringing her back to the topic at hand.
She tapped the tip of her index finger against her lip. “I’ve been thinking about that since I heard the news. I guess it would have been Kara’s confirmation. That’s Hank’s oldest daughter. She’s fourteen. Hank and his wife had a little party at the house.”
“When was that?” Rena asked, taking notes.
“Last May. She had the prettiest dress. So tall and slim. Just a lovely girl.”
They had not come to talk about her grandchildren, and Rena got the sense that A.L. was getting restless. “So you’ve not seen or talked to Platt since May, roughly six months ago,” Rena summarized.
“That’s right,” Virginia said. “We’ve been divorced for a long time. Our children are all grown. There’s really no need for us to talk regularly.” She paused. “Still, I am very sorry to hear such sad news. Since our divorce, we’ve had an amicable relationship. He was my children’s father. That is something that never changes.”
“Do you have any idea who might have wished Platt harm?”
“Platt had an interesting assortment of friends,” she said. “It was often a source of conflict between us. I imagine you could ask your dad or your uncle Joe. I’m sure they’re in a better position to speculate than I am.”
“You ever hear anyone threaten Platt or hear him express concern about any of his friends?” A.L. said, letting her comment go by.
She shrugged. “I think Platt was afraid of Rocky Patou. I never heard Rocky threaten him, but I heard Platt say several times that only a fool crossed Rocky, and only a lucky fool lived to talk about it.”
Rena was unfamiliar with the name and couldn’t tell by A.L.’s reaction whether it meant something to him.
“Anybody else?”
She shrugged. “At the confirmation, Platt told me that he’d recently started dating again. Perhaps you’ll want to talk to her.”
“Her name?” Rena asked.
Virginia shook head. “I didn’t ask. Quite honestly, I didn’t care. We’ve both moved on.”
“You remarried, right?” A.L. asked.
“Yes. Toby Trotter. Nice guy, but I unfortunately discovered that all he wanted to do was fish and hunt.” She looked at Rena. “Never marry anyone from northern Wisconsin.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rena said.
“It wasn’t all bad,” Virginia said. “And I got a nice divorce settlement. Enabled me to move to Wausau, buy this house and not have to worry about old age too much.”
“How long ago was that?” A.L. asked.
“Five years. It will be five years in February. Horrible time of year to move,” she said, smiling.
“Was Platt providing any spousal support for you?” Rena asked.
She shook her head. “We were both working when we divorced. Both making about the same. We split the assets we had, and that was it.” She didn’t sound bitter, just matter-of-fact.
A.L. stood up, and Rena followed suit. “Thank you for your time, Virginia,” he said. “We appreciate it.” He took a couple steps toward the door and stopped, like he’d suddenly had a thought. Rena had seen the move before. This was calculated.
“Can you tell us where you were last night through early morning?” A.L. asked.
“I…uh…well, I was at the movies with a friend. And I spent the night at her house. I don’t like to drive at night anymore.”
“What’s your friend’s name?” Rena asked so that A.L. didn’t have to.
“Lily. Lily Hogan.”
“She lives in Wausau?” Rena followed up.
“She does.”
“Okay, thank you,” A.L. said. “By the way, we spoke with Veronica before we came over.”
“How is she?” Virginia asked.
“Okay,” A.L. said. “I understand the two of you aren’t in regular communication.”
Virginia offered a sad smile. “She’s finding her way. I’m hopeful things will not always be the same.”
Veronica had said that her mother was a fool, and she didn’t have any self-respect. Not the words of somebody looking to reconcile. But it wasn’t appropriate for either of them to tell Virginia not to hold her breath.
“Who landed in Wausau first?” Rena asked. “You or your daughter?”
“Veronica was already here.”
“And you followed her?” Rena asked.
“I didn’t follow her. After my divorce, I thought Wausau would be a nice place to live in central Wisconsin.”
“Were you and Veronica already estranged when you moved here?” A.L. asked, clearly seeing where Rena was going.
“I don’t really remember,” Virginia said. “It was a long time ago.”
“Well, we appreciate your time,” A.L. said. He turned to leave, and Rena followed him out the door.
They got back to the SUV, and he started it quickly and put the heat on high. “What do you think?” Rena asked.
“I think it’s odd that she can’t remember whether she and Veronica were already estranged when she moved to Wausau. It’s just five years ago.”
“And kind of a big thing,” Rena agreed.
“Her explanation that she and Platt had a friendly post-divorce relationship tracks with what I know about them. And I can remember my dad saying that Platt didn’t get hurt too badly in the divorce. I’m pretty sure he meant financially.”
“Do you know who Rocky Patou is?”
A.L. nodded. “He played cards once in a while.”
“Never told you to call him Uncle Rocky?” She was already keying information into her phone.
“Nope.”
She read what had popped up on her phone. “Limited record. Assault charge almost fifteen years ago.” She read some more, then looked up at A.L. “Oh, this is interesting.”
“What?”
“The person he assaulted was Platt Waymann.”
They were definitely going to want to talk to Rocky Patou.
“I’m going to see if I can find Lily Hogan,” Rena said, picking up her phone again. “Got her,” she said, just minutes later. “I might as well call her now.” She dialed and put it on speaker so that A.L. could hear the conversation.
“Hello.”
“Is this Lily Hogan?”
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Morgan with the Baywood, Wisconsin, Police Department. I also have my partner, Detective McKittridge on the line. We are investigating a police matter,” Rena added quickly.
It was good to get that out in the first fifteen seconds. Otherwise, they got hung up on a lot. People thought it was somebody calling for money.
“Do you have a few minutes for a couple questions?” Rena asked.
“I guess I do.”
“Thank you. Can you tell me the last time you saw Virginia Trotter?”
“I saw her last night. What’s this about?”
It was the right question. But the purpose of the call wasn’t to provide answers. “Can you tell me a little more about that?” Rena asked.
“We went to a movie.”
“What movie did you see?” Rena asked.
“An Affair to Remember.”
“The one with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr?” Rena asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s a classic.”
Lily Hogan did not reply. Maybe she wasn’t the chatty type. “And what happened after the movie?” Rena asked.
“We came back to my house, had something to eat, some wine. Virginia stayed over.”
“Can you tell me what time she left your house yesterday morning?”
“I…I don’t remember.”
“Before seven? After ten? Sometime in between?”
“Probably in between.”
Rena gave A.L. a side glance. He shrugged. Some witnesses were better than others, and she’d confirmed the important information.
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Hogan.”
Rena hung up and clicked some keys on her smartphone. “There’s a theater in Wausau that plays the classics. An Affair to Remember is showing now.”
A.L. nodded but didn’t say anything. They drove a few miles.
“I just can’t imagine living in the same town as my mother and never seeing her,” Rena said. “My gosh, don’t they ever just bump into one another buying a gallon of milk?”
“My guess is that if they ever happened to be in the same store, Veronica would beat a hasty retreat,” A.L. said.
“I think you’re right.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “It makes my own relationship with my dad look good.”
“I suppose. Now what?” Rena asked.
“When we get back to Baywood, I’ll drop you off at work. I’m going to go see my uncle Joe.”
Chapter Three
Joseph Adam McKittridge lived a simple life. He worked at the button factory, went to church, played cards with his buddies and thought the sun rose and set on A.L.’s shoulders. He’d been married once, years ago, but he and Aunt Lori had never had any kids. They’d gotten divorced when A.L. was in middle school. Aunt Lori had moved away, and Uncle Joe hadn’t seemed to miss her that much.
A.L. had spent more than one idle afternoon as a kid wishing Uncle Joe and his dad could switch places. Uncle Joe was fun. He’d taught A.L. how to ride a dirt bike, how to shoot pool and how to bet on the horses.
The interior of his house was painted white, and he didn’t seem to understand the concept of landscaping. He’d driven a Chevy his whole life, and the refrigerator in his garage was full of cheap beer. Right now, he was holding one in A.L.’s direction.
“Sure,” A.L. said. Now that Tess was around, he’d been drinking more wine. But he could still stomach bad beer, and he didn’t want to offend Uncle Joe. He also didn’t want to make a big deal about this being a work visit.
“How’s your girlfriend?” Uncle Joe asked.
“Tess is fine,” A.L. said. Some months ago, Tess had wanted to meet his family, and he’d had both his dad and Uncle Joe over for pizza. Had been a little worried that one or both men might say something about Tess’s left arm. Her prosthesis had not yet arrived. Had told each of them when he’d issued the invitation. Tess wants to meet you. I want you to meet her. She’s important to me. You should know that she’s missing part of her left arm.
