The Wrong Woman, page 15
Adam relayed the information about the tension with Martin.
“Money is a powerful motivator,” Kendall agreed. “Especially if someone feels they’re getting the short end of the stick. I know Martin lives with his mom still. I would think he’d want to make enough money to get his own place.”
“If he saw Gwen as an obstacle to achieving his goal, could he have gotten mad enough to kill her?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t seem the type, but we both know once a level of rage is achieved, anyone can do anything.”
True statement. Even the most laid-back person could build up a lethal tantrum.
“But you haven’t ever noticed him being violent?”
Kendall snorted. “Have you ever been in the kitchen of a restaurant? They are notorious for being assholes and yelling at the waitstaff. They could put a line of expletives together that would make you and me blush—and cops can cuss with the best of them. I’ve seen both Ty and Martin lose control, but it never really amounted to being violent. Loud and uncalled for? Yes. But violent and aggressive—enough to kill a person? I never saw that.”
She had a point. People could yell and scream and be assholes, but it didn’t always equate to being murderous.
“Did you find anything interesting in Gwen’s business files?”
“Not really—at least, not in any of the documents—but I just started.”
“But?” She was leaving something out. “Something besides documents catch your attention?”
“The killer didn’t steal Gwen’s engagement ring,” she said. “I found it in a ring box at the back of her desk drawer.”
Well, that was unexpected news.
“Wait—” Adam grabbed his phone and brought up the picture of the ring he’d found in Gwen’s personal items. “I thought the black pearl ring was her engagement ring.”
“How do you know about the pearl ring?” Kendall asked.
He flipped the phone around so Kendall could see the screen. “It was in her personal effects.”
Kendall pointed at the picture. “That was an heirloom passed down to her when her grandmother died.”
Adam mulled the information over. “So, the killer didn’t steal the engagement ring.”
“Nope, it was in the back of her desk drawer.”
“Could she have been waiting to take it in to a jeweler to get it sized or something?”
Kendall shook her head. “No, that was done months ago.”
He placed his mug on the coffee table and sat back, letting the news percolate. “Did she and Butler break off their engagement?”
“Good question.” She looked a mix of sad and embarrassed. “I have no idea what was going on.”
Adam took a deep breath. He was not looking forward to the next line of questioning, but it had to be done. “I heard back from the ME.” He paused to see if she stopped him. She was a professional, but she was also grieving her best friend. Sometimes it was best not knowing all the gruesome details of someone’s death.
She nodded for him to proceed.
“Cardiac arrest brought on by electrocution.”
Her face paled. “What?”
“Apparently, some type of electric current passed through her breasts and caused her heart to stop pumping blood.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Time to drop the bomb. In for a penny, and all that crap. “Do you know if Gwen and Ty engaged in unusual sexual practices?”
“Like what, exactly?”
“Electrophilia?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Which is what?”
Adam read the explanation from the ME as they both squirmed in their seats—Adam still uncomfortable with the subject; Kendall, most likely not wanting to delve into her best friend’s sexual proclivities.
“Pffftttt.” Kendall exhaled loudly, then chuckled. “I can’t say no for sure, but I would be drop-dead surprised if they were into any of that. Ty may have wanted to shake things up in that area of the relationship, but I can’t see Gwen going that far. Some mild bondage, perhaps, but”—she waved her hand at his notes, her nose scrunched up—“no way.”
“Did Gwen talk to you about her sex life?”
“No, not really. What are you thinking?”
Adam leaned forward and picked his coffee mug up, taking a drink before proceeding. “They were messing around, didn’t fully understand the ramifications of the situation—”
“Gwen has a heart attack, and Ty freaks and dumps her body?” She leaned back into the couch and stared at the ceiling in contemplation. “I can see that more than I can see him intentionally killing her.” She lifted her head and gazed at him. “I mean, I know there was some tension between them lately. But that’s to be expected, I guess. Sometimes it can be hard to work with the one you play with.”
Adam leaned forward. “What kind of tension?”
“The business was booming, and Gwen had thoughts of expansion. Ty wanted to keep it small. I think they argued about it, but it was normal disagreements. I never got the feeling it was causing serious trouble.”
She ran her fingertip around the rim of her coffee mug. “Although, I guess I don’t really know what was going on with her these days. Apparently, she was upset enough at Ty to stop wearing her engagement ring. And I never even noticed.” She glanced up at him under a lock of hair that fell across her forehead. “Some friend I am, huh?”
Adam wasn’t getting into this type of conversation with her. He was the last person who should be waxing poetic on interpersonal relationships. He was clueless. And not a good emotional cheerleader.
He was really good at asking questions and investigating murders.
“Why do you think she didn’t tell you?” he asked.
She looked down and away. “I’ve been pretty self-absorbed in this case I’ve been working—a child abduction that turned out to be a runaway from a molester.”
The thought turned Adam’s stomach. He hated working cases involving kids. No way would he be able to work them day in and day out like Kendall.
“Knowing Gwen, she wouldn’t want to worry me when I needed to focus all my attention on finding the victim.” A small, sad smile played across her lips. “That’s just the sort of person she was.”
CHAPTER
30
DAVE COLLINS WAS a tall, clean-cut guy with dark brown hair and biceps which stressed the fabric of his white dress shirt. The large box of liquor he placed on the bar was lifted with ease, as if it were filled with cotton candy, not sixty-plus pounds of expensive hooch.
After leaving Kendall’s, Adam made his way to The Oyster to interview the bartender.
“Anything happen out of the ordinary on Saturday night?” Adam asked.
“Uh, let me think … still trying to wrap my head around Gwen dying.” He snapped his finger and pointed at Adam. “Yeah, yeah, there was something. Gwen had to kick a drunk out of the bar.”
“And that was unusual?” That sort of thing happened frequently at the bars Adam went to.
“For this place, definitely.”
“So, what happened?”
“One of our regulars, who usually handles his liquor better, started getting obnoxious with the waitstaff. Gwen finally stepped in when he turned his drunk ass on the customers.” Collins shook his head and laughed. “It was sort of comical—for such a petite woman, Gwen has balls the size of an elephant. She got up in his face and talked real low, so only the people directly around them could hear, and told him there was a cab waiting outside to drive him home, courtesy of the restaurant, and that he had better leave before she called the police.”
Collins placed two bottles of vodka on the shelf opposite Adam. “That only made the poor sap start blubbering about how he would behave better, and please don’t kick him out forever—don’t remember the exact words, but you get the idea. When Gwen told him that her decision was final, he stood up, towering over Gwen, and told her she’d regret banning him. I grabbed his arm in case he tried anything, but Gwen?” He faced Adam and whistled, a smile on his face. “She stood her ground.”
“Sounds like you admired her?”
“Dude, I have mad respect for her.”
“Do you have a name to go along with the regular?”
“Uh, Jimmy something …” He tapped his finger on the bar. “Bell,” he exclaimed. “Jimmy Bell.”
“So, I’m assuming Mr. Bell left without further incident?”
“Yeah, I escorted him to the door and put him in the cab myself.”
“Seen him since?”
“Nope.”
“Things calm down after that?”
“Yeah, but it caused quite a frenzy in the bar. Everyone loves drama, right? And there was no shortage of customers reliving the harrowing experience of witnessing a drunk get angry and thrown out. I swear, you would’ve thought ol’ Jimmy had whipped out a gun and started aiming it at people, the way the stories morphed throughout the night.”
“And no doubt still are as they’re recounted at dinner parties where no one can challenge them on the veracity,” Adam added.
“Exactly.”
Adam closed up his notepad and slid a business card across the bar to Collins, pointing to it. “Think of anything, no matter how minor, give me a call.”
“Will do.” Collins slipped the card into his breast pocket.
Adam walked through the bar and was approaching the door when Collins called out to him. Adam turned as the man jogged up to him.
“Hey, I remembered something that happened earlier in the night.”
“What was that?”
“Gwen and a friend of hers, Quentin, were having a heated discussion in the bar. He was waiting for a to-go order, which isn’t uncommon—he and Kendall are always getting food to go—but, man, was he upset.”
“Do you know what about?” Adam recalled Novak being squirrelly when Adam spoke to him at Kendall’s house.
“No, but he was getting loud enough that Gwen was glancing around the bar to see if anyone was getting annoyed. Luckily, there weren’t many people in here at the time, and no one was really paying attention to them. Once the food arrived, Quentin pulled himself together and left.”
“What did Gwen do?”
Collins chuckled. “Rubbed her forehead and asked for the bottle of migraine meds we keep behind the bar.”
“Okay, thanks.” Adam shook the man’s hand and left.
So, Novak was having a heated discussion with Gwen the night she disappeared. Could whatever they were arguing about have pushed him to kill Gwen?
CHAPTER
31
Monday,
March 2,
8:32 AM
ADAM SWIVELED HIS chair and faced the murder board for Jenna Rose. Leaning back, he steepled his fingers and tapped them against his lips. His gaze traveled over the crime scene photos first, then the autopsy pics. Jenna had been raped. Sodomized with a pistol. The .22 caliber hollow point lodged in her spinal column. The shot had paralyzed her first and then, eventually, killed her. But that wasn’t the photo that stumped him. Something about Jenna Rose’s back seemed off.
The autopsy report had concluded the marks on her back were due to scratches, possibly from being dragged over the rough landscape around the trees on the tenth tee. But the determination wasn’t ringing true to Adam.
He pulled up the video from the golf course. The killer removed Jenna from the trunk. Carried her across the parking lot, over the closely cut grass, and dumped her under the tree. Then he stood there, looking at Jenna, before turning and walking back to his car.
He dumped her.
Adam jumped up, grabbed his coat and keys, and headed out the door. With any luck, Fran was not armpit deep in a dead body, and he could get her take on the marks. Fran hadn’t performed Jenna Rose’s autopsy—Jenna had been murdered while Fran was still on maternity leave. And it wasn’t that Adam didn’t trust her replacement; it was more he didn’t really know the man. Nestor Watson had been on loan from Grand Junction while Fran was gone. He was an odd sort of guy, not personable at all. One of those doctors who instantly believes anyone who didn’t attend medical school is an idiot, and therefore needed to slow his speech for simpletons. Complete with inane hand gestures.
Adam was not a fan of Dr. Watson.
Fran was in her office, staring at her computer, eyebrows squished together, her fingers racing over the keyboard. Adam tapped on the doorframe. She glanced up but said nothing. Adam had been here before. Best to just let her finish whatever she was doing. Interrupting her while in the middle of a thought would likely bring wrath down on him. And he needed her help.
The tapping ceased, and her gaze swung to him, a broad smile on her face. She exhaled and said, “Hey, Adam, what can I do for you?”
“I’m stumped on the Jenna Rose case and could use a second look at something, if you have the time.”
“What kind of second look?”
He handed the autopsy pic over to her. “Dr. Watson said these were scratches, most likely caused by being dragged along the ground.”
She picked up the picture and glanced at it, then typed on the computer. “Rose is the victim’s last name?”
“Yes.”
“And why don’t you believe those are scratches?”
“According to video surveillance at the scene, her body was dumped, not dragged.”
“Could’ve been an animal who dragged her after the killer left.”
“But wouldn’t there have been some type of bite mark or something? Besides, her body was found where it was dumped.”
Fran was ignoring him, her attention on the computer screen.
“I see what you mean,” she drew out each word. She waved him over. “Come take a look.”
Adam rounded the corner of the desk. The autopsy photo was easier to see on Fran’s twenty-seven-inch monitor. She had also apparently zoomed in to get a closer look. “If these were scratches, I would expect to see a sort of feathering effect. Some lines deeper than others, creating a variation on the colors—the deeper ones being darker—you get what I mean.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond. She used a pen to point to specific marks on the screen. “Some are perfectly straight lines. But even the ones that aren’t straight”—she pointed to a few lines that were curved in almost a semicircle—“they’re clean. These are marks made on purpose, with a razor or sharp knife.”
“Why?” Adam asked out loud.
Fran looked up at him with a sweet smile. “If I do your job, do I also get your pay?”
“Rhetorical question.”
“Oooo, such a big word.”
“It’s Dictionary dot com’s word of the day. I hoped I’d be able to use it in a sentence.”
“Happy I can provide the opportunity. It’s nice to see you’re still trying to improve your station in life.”
Adam laughed. This was a common theme between them. Fran was the most down-to-earth, nonpretentious doctor he had ever met. He had told her that once, and she had responded she’d have to work harder at being pompous in the future.
He took the picture from the desk and headed for the door. “Thanks, Fran.”
“I’m here to serve.”
He smiled and waved a goodbye, but she was already typing furiously on the keyboard, eyebrows knitted together.
CHAPTER
32
MORNING CAME WAY too early, and Kendall could’ve stayed another hour under the covers. She forced herself out of bed and headed straight to the shower. Nothing was going to help the dull ache that was her constant companion these days. But a nice, long, hot dousing might release some tension, and that was better than nothing. Somehow the warmth and the mindless act of washing her hair relaxed her, and she was able to mull over information in Gwen’s business files.
She dried her hair, dressed, and walked out to the kitchen. Grabbing the stack of reports she had gone over the previous night, she sifted through them while waiting for the coffee to brew.
Something wasn’t right—she just couldn’t put her finger on what. The balance sheet from the previous month showed a deduction of ten thousand dollars, but there was no explanation of why the money was withdrawn or what it had been used for.
Filled mug in hand, she headed into the living room and searched for the bank statements that coincided with the recent withdrawal. The statement from the previous month showed the deduction reflected on the balance sheet. The bank statement for the loan, however, didn’t show the amount being deducted. She grabbed the statement for the next month, but no withdrawal for that amount was listed there either, nor were there any withdrawals equaling that amount. She went through the previous month and found the same. No withdrawal.
Finally, a statement two months prior listed a deduction for ten thousand dollars. Dialing Adam’s number, she waited while it rang.
“Taylor.”
“It’s Kendall.” She could hear the buzz of a busy office in the background. “You at work?”
“Yes, just got in. Interviewed the bartender working the night Gwen disappeared.” He told Kendall about a drunk getting belligerent with Gwen and having to be escorted off the premises. “What’ve you been up to?”
“My ass in financial reports. There’s a reason I didn’t get any sort of math degree. Me and numbers are not always friends.”
Adam laughed, which made her smile. He was a good guy, and she liked him. Not as anything more than a friend. Although, the number of male friends she was acquiring was starting to alarm her.
“Well, I found something interesting, but it creates more questions than answers, unfortunately. Back in September, ten thousand dollars was withdrawn from the business account. That money was not listed on the ledger until November, two months later. It shows as a short-term loan paid out one day and repaid the next.”
“Odd.”
“That’s what I thought, but there’s more. I remembered seeing a withdrawal for that amount recently, and went back through the ledger. Sure enough, there’s a ten-thousand-dollar withdrawal, but this time the description is blank. Not a single notation as to what it could be. I went through the bank statements, and it was withdrawn on the date listed in the report, but I don’t see anything showing it was repaid—if it was another short-term loan.”
